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jetii · 29 days ago

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Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Part One | Part Three

Pairing: Thorn x Senator!Reader / Thorn x fem!Reader

Words: 8,675 / 34,682

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! enemies to lovers kinda, forced proximity, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, so much arguing and flirting and banter, there's some spice in this part, smut in part 3

Summary: You're the most infuriating charge Commander Thorn has ever had the misfortune to babysit, and yet, you're also the one he finds himself falling for.

A/N: This is a three parter now oops! The slow burn was just too good.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

The next day is much of the same. Thorn stands guard outside your door, ignoring the looks that the troopers give him, and you spend most of the morning holed up in your room. The tension between the two of you is palpable, and it seems like everyone in the compound is aware of it. The guards whisper amongst themselves, casting furtive glances at Thorn, and even the staff seems uneasy.

The only one who doesn't seem affected by the situation is you. You attend meetings, chat with your advisors, and even have lunch with the Governor. Your behavior is nothing short of perfect, and Thorn finds it incredibly irritating. You're treating the incident like a minor inconvenience, and it's driving him mad. He can't stop thinking about the danger, and how close you had come to death.

The afternoon is no different, and Thorn spends his time pacing back and forth in the hallway while you attend yet another meeting. He's restless, and the silence is deafening. He's tired of standing guard, and he's tired of being ignored. He wants to talk to you, to yell at you, to make you see reason. But every time he tries, you brush him off or dismiss him.

Finally, after hours of waiting, you return to your room, and Thorn follows you inside. You don't even acknowledge his presence, and he has to stop himself from snapping.

"Senator," he says, his tone sharp.

You ignore him, moving over to your desk and sorting through the stack of datapads piled there. He lets out a huff of irritation and walks over to you, planting a hand on the desk and leaning in.

"Senator, we need to talk."

"No, we don't," you reply, your eyes scanning the screen.

"Yes, we do," he insists.

You glance up at him, arching a brow. "Is this going to be about the same thing we've been arguing about for the past three days?"

Thorn scowls. "Yes."

You shake your head and look back at the datapad. "There's nothing more to discuss, Commander. You've made your opinion very clear."

"Senator, please."

You sigh and put the datapad down, rubbing your forehead. "What do you want me to say, Commander? You're upset, and I understand that. But there's nothing more I can do. This is the way things are."

Thorn grits his teeth, his hand curling into a fist. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, but you can accept it," you say, your tone softening.

"I can't," he replies, his voice low.

"Commander—"

"Senator, I can't," he interrupts, his eyes locking on yours. "I can't accept that someone tried to kill you. I can't accept that I almost lost you. And I can't accept that there's nothing I can do about it."

Your eyes widen slightly, and you take a step back, your gaze flicking away from him. He sees your shoulders slump, and your expression softens. You're quiet for a moment, and then you look back at him, your eyes searching his.

"Why?"

Thorn hesitates, not sure how to answer. He doesn't want to lie, but he can't tell you the truth. If he does, he'll never be able to stop. He'll say too much, and he'll lose you forever.

"Because," he says, swallowing thickly, "you're important. To the Republic, and to the Chancellor. And I'm sworn to protect you. No matter what."

You study him for a moment, and he's worried that you're going to see through him. That you're going to see the truth, the feelings he's been trying so hard to suppress.

But instead, you nod, giving him a small smile. It’s not the smile he wants, not the one that makes his heart skip a beat, but it's enough.

"Thank you, Commander. Your dedication is admirable."

Thorn nods, forcing himself to return your smile. He doesn't feel dedicated. He feels like a liar, and a fraud. He's not doing this for the Republic, or for the Chancellor, or the Jedi or anyone else. He's doing it for you. Because he cares about you. Because he wants you to be safe. But he knows that's not what you want to hear, and it’s not something he can admit.

"I'm sorry," you say after a moment. "I know this is hard for you. But it's not something I can change."

You turn away from him, moving towards the window, and Thorn's eyes follow you. You stare out at the city below, your hands clasped behind your back, and Thorn watches as your expression changes.

“Senator—“

“I have a party to attend this evening,” you say, cutting him off, and he blinks, surprised by the sudden change in topic. You glance at him, and then you look away, your eyes drifting back to the window.

"A party?"

"Yes. It's an annual event, and I'm expected to attend," you explain, your voice distant. "The Governor has invited me personally."

"I wasn't aware," he says, his voice tight. "When were you planning to inform me?"

You shrug. "I'm informing you now."

"You can't go."

You turn, arching a brow. "Do I need permission?"

"No, but—"

"I'm going," you interrupt. There's a smile on your face, but it's cold, and Thorn realizes that he's losing his grip. You're slipping through his fingers, and he can't seem to stop it.

"Senator, please."

"I'm not discussing this, Commander," you say, your voice growing sharper. "It's my decision."

Thorn stares at you, his mind racing, and you hold his gaze. He wants to argue with you, but he knows it's futile. You've made up your mind, and there's no changing it. He's not going to get anywhere by continuing to fight with you.

"Fine," he says, his tone clipped. "I'll escort you."

"No need," you reply, and Thorn narrows his eyes.

"Yes, there is," he insists. "You're not going anywhere without me. Especially after what happened."

You sigh and shake your head. "It's a fundraiser. There will be hundreds of people there, as well as local authorities and security. It's hardly the place for an assassin."

"That's exactly why they'll go after you there," Thorn says, and you give him a look that he pointedly ignores. "If they know you're going to be there, then they'll see it as an opportunity. And they're right."

"Commander—"

"I'm not leaving your side," he interrupts, his voice rising. "Not now, not ever. And that's final."

Your eyes flash with anger, and Thorn has to suppress a grin. He may not have won the argument, but he's at least gotten your attention. You're glaring at him, your hands on your hips, and he can see the frustration written all over your face. It's a small victory, but it's something.

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes. "But only if you promise to behave."

"I'll be the perfect gentleman."

"You better be," you murmur. Your voice is low, and there's a hint of danger in your eyes. Thorn suppresses the urge to shiver.

"I always am," he says softly, and you chuckle. You give him a smile, a real one, and he knows that he's forgiven. For now, at least.

"We'll see about that," you say, and then you turn back to your desk, picking up one of the datapads and typing something into it. Thorn watches you, his heart pounding in his chest, and he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He's still mad, and he still thinks you're making a huge mistake, but he can't stay angry at you. Not when you look so beautiful, and not when you smile at him like that.

He wonders if you know what you do to him. If you have any idea how much he wants you.

He has a feeling that you do.

You glance at him, and Thorn clears his throat, forcing himself to look away.

"Relax, Commander," you tease. "It'll be fun."

"Fun," he echoes, the word tasting sour on his tongue.

"Yes," you say with a bright smile. "Fun. You should try it sometime."

"I'll leave that to you," he replies, and you let out a soft laugh. You walk past him, moving towards the room that holds your clothes, and Thorn turns, following you.

"You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself," you tell him as you reach the closet. You push open the door, stepping inside, and Thorn lingers in the doorway, watching as you begin rummaging through the racks of gowns and outfits.

"I'm not here to have fun," he says, his eyes sweeping over the room. He's not sure why you need so many clothes. What he’s seen you wear when you’re not in the spotlight is a far cry from the extravagant dresses that hang in the closet. He can't even imagine a use for most of them.

"Maybe not," you say, pausing and looking over your shoulder at him. "But it might help you loosen up a bit."

Thorn raises a brow. "Loosen up?"

"Yes," you say as you turn around to face him. "You're so tense all the time. It can't be good for you."

He shrugs, and leans against the doorframe. "Being tense is part of the job. Besides, I don't think it's a good idea to be... loose around you."

You tilt your head, a smile playing on your lips. "Oh? And why is that, Commander?"

He's tempted to tell you. To tell you everything. To admit that he can't stop thinking about you, that he wants you, that he dreams about touching you and tasting you. But he doesn't. He can't. So, instead, he shakes his head, giving you a tight smile.

"Because," he says simply. "You're trouble."

You laugh, turning back to the racks. "And what makes you think that?"

"I've seen the way you work," he says, his gaze following your movements. "You're a master manipulator. You're always one step ahead, and you know exactly what you're doing."

"What can I say?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. "I'm a politician. It's my job to manipulate people."

"You're more than that," he argues, and you pause, glancing at him.

"Is that a compliment, Commander?"

"Maybe."

You grin, and then you reach up, pulling a gown from the rack and holding it up to yourself. You turn, and the blue fabric swishes around your feet. “What do you think?”

Thorn frowns. "I'm not a fashion expert, Senator.”

"You don't have to be," you say with a laugh. “You gave me such a wonderful recommendation the other day, after all. I was hoping you'd offer some more advice."

Thorn feels his cheeks heat, and he glances away, a soft chuckle rising in his throat. He'd forgotten about the dress, and he's not sure what possessed him to suggest it. You did look beautiful in it, and the memory of you wearing it, the way the fabric had hugged your body, the way you had touched him as you bandaged the cut on his face, is enough to send his heart racing.

"I'll stick to my day job, thank you," he says, his voice barely audible. He clears his throat. “You’ve never cared for my opinion before, anyway."

"Perhaps I'm starting to value it," you say softly, and he turns his head, meeting your gaze. You stare at him for a moment, and then you look away, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Careful, Senator," he murmurs. "I might get used to it."

"I certainly hope so," you reply as you hang up the dress and resume your search. You reach for another, this one a deep red color. "How about this one?"

"It's nice," he says, and you scoff.

"Nice? That's the best you can do, Commander?"

He shrugs. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Be honest," you say, giving him a sly grin. "Which one would you rather see me in?"

He swallows, his gaze dropping. "Senator—"

"Come on," you coax, and Thorn feels his cheeks burn. He takes a deep breath and looks up, meeting your eyes. They're twinkling with mischief, and he feels his resolve crumble.

"You're going to make me regret this, aren't you?"

You laugh as you hang the dress back up. "You know me so well."

He shakes his head, letting out a soft chuckle, and he steps into the room. You're a terrible influence on him, and he can't believe he's actually enjoying himself. He walks over to you, standing next to you as you continue searching the racks.

"How many of these do you have?"

"A few," you admit. "Most of them were gifts. I didn’t always have you to turn them down for me, you know."

Thorn nods, reaching up and pulling out a silver gown. He holds it up, studying it, and you tilt your head.

"I'd look like a chrome plated speeder."

A bark of laughter escapes him before he can stop it. "A very expensive one."

You snort, and Thorn feels a grin tugging at his lips. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this. How much he'd missed teasing and laughing with you. The past few days have been stressful, and the tension between the two of you has been unbearable. It's a relief to be back on friendly terms, even if the thought of you attending a party where an assassination attempt is a likely outcome still has his stomach tied in knots.

You turn, leaning against the rack, and Thorn sets the dress back, his gaze roaming over the others.

"Any suggestions, Commander?" you ask, and he gives a small shrug.

"I'm a little out of my depth here."

"Maybe so," you say, your eyes trailing over his face. "But you've got good taste."

Thorn's eyes narrow, and he studies the dresses again, searching for something that will please you. He knows he's being silly. It doesn't matter what you wear. But for some reason, he can't stand the thought of disappointing you.

Finally, his eyes land on a dark green gown. It's simple, elegant, and he can't help but think of how good you'll look in it. It's not too flashy, but it's flattering, and he can imagine the way the fabric will hug your curves.

"That one," he says, his voice rough. He nods his head toward the dress, and you move beside him, tilting your head.

"Hmm," you hum, reaching out and pulling the hanger from the rack. You hold the dress up to yourself, studying it, and then you nod. "I agree."

Thorn tries to hide his surprise. "You do?"

"Of course," you say, flashing him a smile. "You really do have excellent taste, Commander."

He smiles, pleased with himself, and then he catches himself and clears his throat. "Thank you."

"Now," you say, moving towards him. "Why don't you let me get ready, and then we can go have some fun?"

"Yes, Senator," he says, and you brush past him, exiting the closet and disappearing into the bathroom. The door closes behind you, and Thorn lets out a breath, closing his eyes. He feels giddy, like a cadet with a crush, and he has to take a moment to compose himself.

He can't believe he just did that. He can't believe you made him do that. It's bad enough that he's constantly fantasizing about you, but now he's actively encouraging it. What's worse, he's actually enjoying it.

He's helping you pick out dresses, for kriff's sake. That's something a lover does, and Thorn isn't your lover. He's not even sure if you're friends, let alone anything more. He should be ashamed of himself. He should be disciplined. He should be doing a million other things besides standing here, imagining what you'll look like in the dress he picked out.

The minutes drag by, and Thorn tries to keep himself busy. He checks the time, he cleans his armor, and he makes sure that his weapons are in working order. He pours over the layout of the party venue, noting possible entry points and escape routes. He does everything he can to distract himself, but it doesn't help. He can't stop wondering what you're doing, and how long it will take, and if the dress will look as good on you as he hopes it will.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door to the bathroom opens, and you step out. The green gown fits perfectly, and Thorn's breath catches in his throat. You're gorgeous, and he can't look away.

You're smiling at him, a playful look in your eyes, and you turn, showing off the backless design. There’s a clasp at the top, and he wonders how hard it would be to undo it. It doesn't seem too difficult, and he's almost certain that he could get it undone with one hand.

"Well?" you ask, looking over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

Thorn stares at you, speechless, and then he finds his voice. "It's... good," he says, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"Just good?" you tease, and he smiles.

"It's better than good," he says, his voice soft.

You turn, facing him, and you raise a brow. "How about 'incredible' or 'amazing' or 'breathtaking'?"

Thorn lets out a low laugh. "You're fishing for compliments, Senator."

"Perhaps," you say, smiling at him. “‘Gorgeous’ would work, too.”

He tilts his head, his gaze sweeping over your form. "I don't think there are enough words in the galaxy to describe how good you look."

Your eyes widen, and you blink, clearly taken aback. Thorn feels a swell of pride at the way your cheeks flush. He's never been one for flattery, but he can't deny the rush of satisfaction he gets from seeing your reaction.

"You're such a charmer, Commander," you say, a shy smile on your lips as you move closer to him. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Oh, I'm full of surprises," he says, and you laugh, a sound that makes his heart skip a beat. He stares at you, his pulse racing, and the two of you are silent for a moment, just taking each other in.

You're close now, and Thorn can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. His gaze drops to your lips, and his fingers twitch, itching to touch you. But he doesn't. He's already gone too far, and if he lets himself go any further, there will be no coming back.

"Well, keep it up," you say, breaking the silence, and Thorn meets your eyes. "I could get used to this."

"Don't," he says lightly. "I don't want to ruin my reputation."

You grin, and then you turn, moving towards the door. Thorn watches you go, his eyes lingering on your exposed back, and he shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He's a dead man.

The fundraiser is held in a large banquet hall, and Thorn finds himself surrounded by an endless sea of people. The large room is decorated in lavish splendor, and guests are mingling amongst themselves, chatting and laughing. A small orchestra plays in the corner, and waiters carry trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres, circulating through the crowd. Everyone is dressed to impress, and the energy is light and carefree.

You, on the other hand, are not.

Thorn can tell that you're frustrated. Your jaw is clenched, and your shoulders are tense, and he's sure that it's his fault. He doesn't care, though. All that matters is keeping you safe, and if that means pissing you off, then he's fine with that. He'll take your anger over your death any day.

He hasn’t left your side since you arrived, and he's been following you around like a shadow. You've done your best to ignore him, talking and laughing with the guests, and while Thorn doesn't mind, he knows that the rest of the attendees are not as forgiving. They're wary of him, and he can't blame them. He's a big, armored man in a room full of politicians, and he's making no effort to blend in.

You've tried to ditch him, but he's managed to stay one step ahead of you, anticipating your moves. He's not about to let you out of his sight, and he's not about to let you wander off. You're not getting away from him that easily.

As the evening wears on, it's clear that you're growing increasingly irritated, but Thorn is enjoying himself. Or as much as he can be. For once, he's not the one who's on the back foot, and he's reveling in the way you're struggling to maintain your composure. You're usually so calm and collected, but now you're frustrated and annoyed, and he's finding it extremely entertaining.

"Would you relax?” you hiss, glancing up at him. You're both standing in a corner, near the buffet table, and Thorn is doing his best to keep an eye on the crowd.

"No," he replies, his gaze sweeping the room.

"You're making people nervous," you explain, and he can't help but smirk. His helmet tilts down to look at your face, and his amusement only grows when he sees the frown on your lips.

"Am I?"

"Yes," you say, rolling your eyes.

"I'm just doing my job," he says innocently.

"It's not your job to make everyone uncomfortable," you retort, and Thorn shrugs.

"Sorry," he says, not feeling the least bit sorry. "It's a side effect."

"Don't give me that," you snap. "I'm not an idiot. You're enjoying this."

He's not going to lie. He is. It's amusing, watching you try and maintain your composure, and the fact that he's the cause is even better. You're not used to not getting your way, and it's refreshing. Besides, it's nice to have the upper hand for once. He plans to take full advantage of it.

"You're being paranoid, Senator," he says, and you scoff, turning your attention back to the room. Someone catches your eye across the room, and you give a brilliant smile and gentle wave. They wave back, and you turn away, returning your attention to Thorn.

“I’m not the one who’s paranoid," you mutter. There’s a smile on your face, but Thorn can hear the annoyance in your voice. "This is a party, Commander. Not a battlefield."

He snorts. "With you around, they might as well be the same thing."

You glare at him, and he smirks.

"We’re going to be here for a while. Mingle."

"I'm not going anywhere.”

"I have a lot of important people to talk to, and you can’t hover over my shoulder the entire time," you say, a challenge in your tone.

He lifts his chin. "Watch me."

You glare at him, and he shrugs, not bothering to hide his amusement. You're angry, and frustrated, and he can't help but revel in it. He's been dealing with your shit for weeks, and he's not going to let you off the hook so easily.

"Wouldn't you rather be enjoying yourself, instead of standing here, staring at me?" you ask, trying a different tactic.

He scoffs. "Hardly."

"Commander," you say, your voice dropping low. You give him a heated look, and he swallows hard, his stomach twisting. "Please."

It's the first time you've asked nicely, and the sound of your voice saying the word is enough to make him pause. You're pleading with him, and while he knows it's only a tactic, a way to get him to bend to your will, he can't help but think about how much he'd like to hear you say that word again. In a different context. With less clothing.

He shakes his head, clearing the thought from his mind. "Nice try," he says, his voice rough. "But no."

You let out a frustrated noise, and Thorn snorts a laugh that hisses through the vocoder. He can see the wheels turning in your head, and he waits, curious to see what else you'll try.

"Fine," you say after a moment. "But don't blame me when this starts getting boring."

“Don’t worry, I find politics fascinating. I would love nothing more than to watch the next two hours pass in a blur of bureaucracy and nonsense,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Truly, it is my favorite part of this job."

You glare at him, and he gives you a smug look, even though you can't see it. He crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs, leaning closer.

"Go on," he challenges. "Entertain me."

You narrow your eyes, and then you let out a breath, smoothing down the front of your gown. The gown he picked out for you. Thorn follows the motion of your hands, watching as they trail down your body, and he swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

"You're impossible," you grumble.

"Only when I'm right," he replies, and you roll your eyes.

"If you're so insistent on watching, you should find a better spot. I can't imagine that standing right behind me is the most exciting view," you say, and Thorn tilts his head.

"I like the view just fine," he murmurs. The words are out of his mouth before he realizes it, and he curses himself, hoping that his voice didn't sound too suggestive. But when the anger in your eyes shifts into something far more wicked, he knows that his hope is in vain.

"Why, thank you, Commander. It's always nice to get compliments from a handsome man," you say sweetly, a teasing smile on your lips. You lean in closer, your hand resting lightly on his arm. You look him up and down, your gaze sweeping over his form, and Thorn feels a flush rising in his cheeks. "I like the view, too."

Thorn stares at you, his brain short-circuiting, and he tries not to react. But his body betrays him, and he can feel the heat in his face spreading to his ears and neck. He's having a hard time remembering why he's supposed to be annoyed with you, or why he can't take you against the nearest wall. The dress he chose is doing him no favors, either.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Save the flattery, Senator. It's not going to work."

You pout, but there's a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. "Oh? And what if I meant it?"

His heart skips a beat, and his gaze drops to your lips. You're standing so close, and all he wants to do is pull you against him, to taste the wine on your tongue and feel the warmth of your body.

"Then we'd both be in trouble," he says softly, and you grin.

"Would that be so bad?"

Yes. No. Yes.

Kriff.

He doesn't know anymore. His brain is filled with static, and he can't think clearly. The only thing that seems real is you, and the way your gaze is fixed on him, the way your fingers are tracing idle patterns on his arm.

"Senator," he grumbles, and your eyes crinkle at the edges. You give him a smile that's far too innocent for the way you're looking at him.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Whatever this is," he says, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

You raise a brow, tilting your head as your hand falls away. "I'm not doing anything."

"You're doing something," he growls, and you give him a coy smile.

"And what am I doing, exactly?"

"You're..."

Thorn trails off, not sure how to answer. He's not sure how to describe what's happening, but it's definitely not innocent. It's not the first time you've teased him, or tested his resolve, or even made a flirtatious comment toward him, but it's the first time you've done so with such...intent.

There's a heat in your eyes that's undeniable, and Thorn can't tell if it's genuine, or if it's just a tactic to get him to leave you alone. You're a master manipulator, after all, and you've been known to use your charm and beauty to get what you want. He wouldn't put it past you to use the same tactics on him.

You're dangerous, he thinks, tearing his eyes away from you and looking out at the crowd. You're dangerous, and he's walking a fine line. He needs to get a grip, and fast, or he's going to lose his mind.

"You're playing a game," he finally says, his voice hoarse. He refuses to look at you, but he can practically feel the way your smile widens.

"I am a politician," you tease, and Thorn's jaw clenches. "We all play games."

"And what’s the objective?" he asks, his gaze shifting back to you. You meet his eyes, your own filled with something he can't quite name. Something warm and inviting and enticing.

You lift a shoulder, the movement slow and graceful. "Isn't it obvious, Commander?"

Thorn swallows, his pulse racing. He wants to ask you, to push you for an answer, but he can't bring himself to do it. He's not sure if he's ready for what you'll say, or what it will mean. For him. For both of you.

"No," he finally admits, and you smile, a genuine one this time. There's something soft in your eyes, something warm and affectionate, and Thorn feels a rush of warmth in his chest.

"I guess you'll have to figure it out," you say, and then you turn away from him.

Your eyes land on a figure in the crowd, and Thorn can tell that you've found a new target. Your shoulders square, and a look of determination crosses your face, a bright smile on your lips.

You're back in politician mode, and the sudden change in demeanor is startling. You move through the crowd, weaving effortlessly through the guests, and Thorn follows, trailing a step behind. You greet everyone warmly, and they respond in kind, all smiles and laughter.

It's amazing, watching you work. You're charming and charismatic, and you seem to know exactly what to say to get the reaction you want. People flock to you, eager to please, and you encourage them, making them feel special. It's a show, but it's also an art, and Thorn can't help but be impressed.

He can't deny that there's something magnetic about you, and the more he watches, the more he's drawn to you. It's hard to believe that just moments ago, you were flirting with him, teasing him, making him want you. Now, you're all business, and it's clear that your goal is to win over the room.

It doesn't take long before you're surrounded by a group of politicians, all vying for your attention. They're chatting, discussing the latest news and gossip, and Thorn hangs back, watching silently. You seem to be enjoying yourself, and you're clearly in your element, but there's a tension in your shoulders that gives away the facade.

You're good, but he's better. He's been studying you, learning your tells, and now that he knows what to look for, it's easy to see through the mask. He can see the strain, the fatigue, and the subtle signs of boredom. You're putting on a show, and while everyone else is buying it, Thorn can see right through it.

You're smiling, but it's forced, and the look in your eyes is sharp and calculating. You're not as relaxed as you appear, and Thorn knows that the night has worn on you more than you're letting on. You glance in his direction, and when your eyes meet, he swears he sees something akin to relief cross your features. You blink, and the look is gone, but Thorn can't shake the feeling that something has changed between the two of you.

He watches as you continue to talk with the group, and a sense of protectiveness wells up inside him. He's not sure what's going on, or why you're putting on such a show, but he's not going to let anything happen to you. Not on his watch.

After several more minutes, the group starts to disperse, and Thorn moves forward, taking up his usual position beside you. You glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of something in your eyes before you look away, a smile still on your lips. He wonders if you're as relieved to have him nearby as he is.

"Are we done here?" he asks, his voice low.

"Almost," you reply, and he lets out a soft huff.

"What are you planning?"

You look at him, a smirk on your face. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He rolls his eyes, and then he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're not getting away from me that easily."

Your eyes widen, and you swallow hard, and Thorn feels a wave of satisfaction. He's got you now, and he's not letting go.

You stare at him, a mixture of emotions flashing across your face, and then you give him a coy smile, lifting your chin.

"We'll see about that," you hum. "I can be very resourceful."

"Not tonight," he growls.

You narrow your eyes, and then you turn, walking towards another group of people.

Thorn follows, and the two of you fall into an uneasy rhythm. You make your way through the crowd, talking and laughing with the other attendees, and Thorn trails along behind, a silent, ever-present shadow. You're charming, and charismatic, and while Thorn is impressed by your skill, he's also irritated.

You keep glancing at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and each time you do, his stomach twists and his blood heats. You're doing it on purpose, and it's working. You're pushing his buttons, and it's taking all his willpower to resist the temptation.

It's a dangerous game, but Thorn finds himself enjoying it. It's stupid, and he knows it, but he can't help but feel a little bit special.

You're the most powerful, beautiful woman in the room, and you're giving him attention. You're teasing him, and flirting with him, and driving him crazy, and the fact that you're the only one who can make him feel this way is both thrilling and terrifying.

It's wrong. You're his charge, and he's supposed to be protecting you, not fantasizing about all the things he wants to do with you. But he can't help it. Every time you look at him, or touch him, or say his name, it's like a switch is flipped inside him. His body reacts, and his mind goes blank, and he finds himself wanting more.

It's addicting, and he's not sure he can ever go back to the way things were before. The idea of it is painful, and he doesn't want to think about it.

So he doesn't.

Instead, he focuses on the present, and on the way you make him feel. He tries to ignore the guilt, and the shame, and the embarrassment, and he allows himself to get lost in the moment. You're the most captivating woman in the room, and you're choosing him, of all people, and he's not about to question it.

There's a small voice in the back of his mind, warning him that this is a bad idea, that it's wrong, and dangerous, and it's only going to end in heartbreak and pain. But he ignores it, and instead, he lets himself get swept up in the fantasy.

He imagines what it would be like, to kiss you, and hold you, and make love to you. He thinks about what it would feel like, to have your body pressed against his, to have you writhing underneath him, to have you begging for more.

And, more than anything, he thinks about what it would be like to call you his. To be able to hold your hand, and kiss you whenever he wanted, and wake up next to you every morning. To be the man who makes you laugh, and cry, and scream.

It's a nice dream, and Thorn lets himself live in it for a while. It's the only thing that keeps him from going insane, and it's the only thing that helps him forget about the reality of his situation. It's a fantasy, and it's never going to come true, but he's not going to deny himself the pleasure of imagining it.

The party ends without incident, with Thorn escorting you out. He can't help but notice the way your eyes linger on him, and the way you smile when he takes your hand, helping you into the speeder. It's the same as it always is, and yet, everything feels different. There's an energy between the two of you, and it's palpable. Thorn can feel it, and he's sure that you can, too.

The ride back to the compound is quiet, and Thorn finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from you. You're sitting across from him, your gaze fixed out the window, and your hands resting in your lap. He's not sure if you're thinking about him, or about the party, or about the attack, but whatever it is, it has a smile playing on your lips, and Thorn finds himself mirroring it.

He can't stop staring at you. He knows it's not appropriate, and he knows that you're not going to reciprocate, but he can't bring himself to care. You're gorgeous, and he's captivated. And, judging by the way you keep glancing at him, you know it, and you don't seem to mind.

The speeder arrives at the compound, and Thorn exits first, holding out a hand to help you. You smile, taking his hand and allowing him to guide you out of the vehicle. He holds onto your hand, his thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin, and you look up at him, the corners of your lips quirking up.

"Thank you, Commander," you say, your voice low.

Thorn nods, not trusting himself to speak. He doesn't know what he would say, anyway. His thoughts are all jumbled, and he's having a hard time focusing on anything other than the way your hand feels in his.

You release his hand, and Thorn lets out a soft sigh. He doesn't want to let go, and he's tempted to reach out and grab your hand again, but he resists the urge.

You start to walk towards the entrance, and Thorn follows, keeping pace with you. Burst and Knock greet the two of you, and then step aside, allowing you to enter.

Thorn trails behind you, his eyes glued to your form, and the sway of your hips. He can't stop thinking about what it would feel like, to bury himself inside you, to make you scream his name, and the images are so vivid, and so powerful, that he nearly trips over his own feet.

He manages to stay upright, but just barely. Burst lets out a snicker, and Knock turns his helmet skyward, shaking his head. Thorn feels his face burn, and he grumbles something under his breath, hurrying after you. He doesn't bother saying goodnight, and you don't bother acknowledging him. The door closes in his face, and he's left standing in the hallway, wondering what the hell just happened.

It's the first time in a long while that he doesn't sleep outside your door, and as he lays in his bed, his thoughts are full of you.

Thorn escorts you around the city over the next few days, sticking close by your side, and the tension between the two of you is palpable. You're not talking about the party, and neither is he, but there's no denying that something has shifted between the two of you. There's an awareness, and a heat, and a longing that can't be ignored.

You're flirting with him, openly and shamelessly, and Thorn can't help but flirt back. He's always been a bit of a smartass, and you seem to enjoy it, so he's not going to hold back.

The two of you are sitting in the speeder, heading towards the parliament building, and you're chatting away, regaling him with a story from the previous day. It's something silly and inconsequential, but Thorn is hanging on your every word. He loves listening to you talk, and he loves the way your face lights up when you're excited.

"You should have seen him," you laugh. "I've never seen a Devaronian turn that shade of red before."

Thorn chuckles, his eyes crinkling. "I can imagine."

"He was practically steaming," you say, shaking your head. "I thought he was going to burst into flames."

"It's not his fault," he says, and you give him a curious look. "You have that effect on people."

You raise a brow. "Oh, do I?"

"You know you do," he says, and you smirk, a playful gleam in your eyes.

"Maybe," you tease. "But I like hearing you say it."

Thorn tilts his head, his mouth quirking up at the corners. "Is that right?"

"It is," you hum. You lean forward, a smile playing on your lips, and he can't help but lean in as well, his elbows bracing on his knees. He's drawn to you like a magnet, and he doesn't bother resisting the pull.

He can't believe how brazen you're being, but he's not complaining. Whatever happened between the two of you at the party has emboldened you, and Thorn is more than happy to indulge you. While a part of him is screaming that this is a terrible idea, a larger, louder part is cheering him on. He's enjoying this, and he doesn't want it to stop.

"Are you flirting with me, Senator?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.

You laugh, and then you sit back, a grin on your face. "That depends, Commander," you say, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Is it working?"

Thorn chuckles, leaning back as well. "Keep trying."

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and a thrill runs through him. He can't believe he's actually flirting with you, but it feels so good, and it's been so long since anyone has shown him this kind of attention. And while it feels like he's walking on thin ice, he can't seem to stop himself. You look at him like he's the only man in the world, and he wants more. He wants all of it.

You stare at him for a moment, and then you laugh again, shaking your head. The sound is soft and sweet, and Thorn feels his stomach flutter. You're smiling at him, and he smiles back, and the tension in the air shifts into something less charged, and more warm and comfortable.

The speeder pulls up in front of the parliament building, and the driver announces your arrival. Thorn steps out first, offering you his hand, and you take it. Your fingers curl around his gloved ones, and you hold on tight, letting him guide you out of the vehicle.

As the two of you make your way inside, your hand finds its usual spot on his arm, and Thorn finds himself leaning into the touch. The gesture is familiar and comforting, and it makes his heart beat a little faster. He's always liked physical contact, and while his brothers aren't as tactile, you certainly are. And he likes the way it makes him feel. Safe and cared for. Wanted.

You enter the main chamber, and the debate begins. You take your usual spot, and Thorn stands nearby, watching as your planet's politicians argue back and forth. They're talking about security, and the latest reports of violence, and Thorn can't help but scoff. These people are supposed to be in charge, and yet they're arguing like children.

He glances at you, and you catch his eye, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He leans toward you, and you shift closer, tilting your head in his direction.

"They're a bunch of idiots, aren't they?" he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You smirk, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "They're not all idiots," you murmur, and Thorn raises a brow, amused. "Just most of them."

Thorn lets out a huff of laughter, and you bite your lip, trying to suppress a grin. He can't believe how comfortable you are with him now, compared to the beginning of the month. It's a stark contrast, and Thorn can't help but think about how nice it would be, to always have this version of you. The version who teases him, and makes him laugh, and gives him sly, knowing looks.

The session drags on, and Thorn tries not to fall asleep. He's bored out of his mind, and the politicians are going back and forth, tossing around ideas and arguments that don't make any sense. One of them proposes a new security measure, and another shoots it down, and the third brings up an old regulation that was scrapped years ago. It's a mess, and he doesn't understand why anyone would ever want to be a part of it.

He lets out a sigh, and you glance at him, amusement dancing in your eyes. He gives you a helpless look, and you smirk, a playful look on your face.

"Something to share?" you whisper, and Thorn lets out a huff.

"These debates are a waste of time," he grumbles.

"Maybe," you hum. "But they're necessary. This is how we get things done."

"You're smarter than them," he says, and you shrug.

"So are you," you reply, and Thorn feels a rush of warmth in his chest. He's not used to people seeing him for anything other than his size, or his strength, or his ability to fight. "What do you suggest?"

He's taken aback, and he hesitates, not sure what to say. He's not used to being asked his opinion, and he's certainly not used to his suggestions being considered. But you're looking at him with genuine curiosity, and he knows that you're not patronizing him.

"Security sweeps," he says, and you raise a brow, urging him to continue. "Increase the number of patrols, and add more checkpoints. We noticed a spike in crime along the western district a couple weeks ago, so that's where they need to focus their attention."

"What else?"

"More cameras," he says. "They're helpful, and the footage can be reviewed by officers. If something seems off, or if a particular person is spotted multiple times, then they can investigate."

You nod, a thoughtful expression on your face. "Interesting. What else?"

He tells you about some of the other ideas he's had, and you listen, a look of concentration on your face. You whisper back and forth, the conversation continuing in low, hushed tones, and Thorn feels a surge of pride. He's not sure why you're interested in his opinion, but he's happy to share it. And when you stand and clear your throat, raising your hand to interrupt the current speaker, he can't help but grin.

"Yes, Senator?" the Speaker says, his eyes wide. The room falls silent, and all eyes are on you.

"We have a suggestion," you say, gesturing toward Thorn. "A better use of our resources."

"We?" the Speaker repeats, confusion in his voice. He glances at Thorn, and then back at you.

"Commander Thorn has been assisting me with my safety, and he's been paying close attention to the reports and crime statistics," you say, a note of pride in your voice. "He's one of the best the Coruscant Guard has to offer, and he has some valuable insight that would be in your best interest to hear."

The Speaker stares at you, and then he turns to Thorn, a skeptical look on his face. Thorn straightens, his chest puffing out a little. He can feel the eyes of the other politicians on him, and he tries not to let it get to him. You're vouching for him, and he's not about to let you down.

"Very well," the Speaker says, a dismissive tone in his voice. "What are your suggestions, Commander?"

Thorn lays out his plan, his voice strong and confident. He explains the security measures he's proposed, and the reasoning behind them. He highlights the areas that have seen the most criminal activity, the places that would benefit the most from additional surveillance, and he points out the flaws in the current system.

The Speaker listens, and the other politicians murmur amongst themselves, their faces thoughtful. When Thorn finishes, the Speaker nods, a slight smile on his face.

"Thank you, Commander," he says. "We'll take your suggestions into consideration."

Thorn inclines his head, and then he steps back, resuming his place behind your chair. You look at him over your shoulder, a smile on your face, and a hint of pride in your eyes, and Thorn can't help but feel a swell of affection.

It's a small thing, but it means the world to him.

Later that evening, as he's escorting you back to the compound, you tell him about a new idea you've come up with. He listens as you discuss the logistics, and he offers suggestions and feedback, and you bounce ideas off each other, testing out different scenarios and outcomes. It's refreshing, having someone to talk to who isn't his brothers, who actually cares about what he has to say. He likes feeling useful, and he likes feeling respected. And, most of all, he likes the fact that it's coming from you.

You're not the person he thought you were, and Thorn finds himself feeling a sense of gratitude and appreciation for the time he's spent with you. It's been difficult, at times maddening, but it's also been one of the best experiences of his life. You've pushed him, and challenged him, and forced him to grow, and he can't help but admire you for it.

It's a strange thing, feeling this way about someone. It's overwhelming and confusing, but there's also a sense of clarity and comfort that comes with it. Thorn isn't sure what to make of it. All he knows is that he doesn't want it to end.

But the truth is, he doesn't have a choice.

The realization that hits him hard as he escorts you back to your quarters. He hadn't been keeping track of the days, not anymore, but he knows that his time is running out.

Your time on your home planet is coming to an end, and soon they’ll all be back on the cruiser. Then, Thorn won't have the luxury of being so close to you. He'll be expected to return to his regular duties, and you'll go back to your normal life, and the thought of it is nearly enough to make him sick.

He doesn't want things to change, and he doesn't want to lose the budding connection the two of you have. But, more than anything, he wants to be able to tell you how he feels. He wants to be able to tell you that he's falling for you, and that he wants to be with you, and that he'd do anything for you.

He just doesn't know how.

And the truth is, he's not even sure if he's brave enough to try.

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