#i say this with full confidence that if you want to play swtor you need to do the male smuggler run

[voiceemporium]

M! Smuggler in SWTOR voiced by Charles Maury Wallace Sterling

[hunnybadgerv]

Dr. Feel Good | SWTOR | Jedi Knight x Doc

Summary: Absence makes the heart … and other things … grow fonder.

a/n: Based on a prompt sent by @alyssalenko: “Leave your hand there. It feels good.”

Read on AO3

Dr. Feel Good

Amaryn slinked through the door, closing it quickly behind her in the hope that she might not wake Doc. The darkness snapped back around her, but she didn’t move at first, waiting to hear any movement or rustling. Crossing toward the dresser, she got her robe off and placed it on a peg. She unclasped her belt in silence and when it thudded against the material of the shelf, she froze. The rustle of the sheets pulled her attention back over her shoulder.

“Wasn’t expecting you back until morning.” His voice was a little hoarse, edged with tiredness.

She smiled widely, and turned more fully toward the sound of his voice. The darkness of their quarters welcomed her, his breathing guiding her toward him. Even without a sliver of light in their room, she could always find him, find his lips, his touch. This time though, she stopped and knelt on the side of the bed for Doc to find her first. His hand was warm on her cheek, but it was all the guide she needed. His lips brushed against hers and she inched farther onto the bed, her hands pressing across the soft sheets in search of the warmth of his body.

“Glad you’re early,” he added between long slow kisses. The traces of exhaustion she’d thought she heard in his voice were gone.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized.

“I wasn’t asleep yet.”

“You weren’t?” she asked as his lips teased down her neck.

“Nope.” He nipped at her jugular, making her shiver.

“What were you doing?”

He hummed, fingers teasing at the clasps of her blouse. “Thinking about you.”

Amaryn chuckled.

His nose skimmed her chin then brushed the tip of hers as his eyes met hers again. “I was,” he insisted.

The sheets were warmer near him. She let her hand continue its search. At first, she only realized that she had found him in the most general of senses.

“Hmm. Leave your hand there, sweetheart.”

Amaryn smiled against his mouth, but acquiesced. She moved her hand slowly, feeling out exactly where she touched him, though his cheeky comment gave her a clue. He groaned when she pressed her palm hard against the length of his erection firmly.

“You feel so good,” he added.

She kissed him again. “This what you were thinking about?”

He didn’t answer at first.

“Me, touching you like this?”

“Not quite,” he told her.

“Really?”

Doc shifted, his hand leaving her blouse for a moment. Then she felt the material of the sheet sliding between her hand and his cock. The moment she felt that velvety skin, the motion of the sheets stopped having removed the thin barrier keeping his flesh from hers.

“That’s a little closer to what I had in mind.”

Her access to him now wholly unhindered, she wrapped her hand around him softly and moved slowly. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“You know me, gorgeous. I’ve got a vivid imagination.”

She hummed against his lips.

“But before I can show you exactly what I was thinking about, I’ve got to get the rest of you out of these clothes.”

“Ah.” She bit her lip and pressed her hand against him more firmly.

He groaned into her mouth.

“Not even going to give me a hint?” Cupping his balls, she gave them a gentle squeeze before dragging her fingertips along his length again.

“You just going to tease me?”

“Of course, I am,” she said. She gasped when his hand grasped her breast and squeezed it hard.

“Two can play at that game.” Doc smiled, pinching her nipple and making her moan.

Amaryn leaned her forehead against his. “True. But I can take more of it than you.”

He chuckled and kissed her hard. His moan echoed in her mouth. “Your hands are so soft.”

“Yours are cold,” she taunted.

“Maybe this will help,” he chuckled, slipping his hand into her bra.

Her laughter followed. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips, enjoying their little game. She had missed him, his touch, his kiss, just the sound of his voice.

“You know what I really want?” With every word, his breath teased over her tingling lips.

“My pants off?” she muttered.

Doc pulled away slightly studying her face in the shadows; Amaryn froze for a moment. “I thought you said you weren’t a telepath.”

His playful statement relaxed her again and she closed the distance between them. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know what you like,” she stated with confidence, studying the way his grin made his eyes sparkle even in the low light.

“Think you have me figured out, do you?” Doc kissed her, easing toward her and guiding her back against the pillows.

She giggled as he pressed a kiss to her bare belly and toyed with her trousers. “I’d never make the mistake of thinking you couldn’t surprise me.”

“Smart and beautiful. I’m a lucky man.” Soft kisses were paired with sharp nips that made her wriggle wantonly beneath him.

When his hands fisted in her waistband, she lifted her hips. “Yes, you are,” she agreed with a laugh. While he tugged her trousers down her calves, she sat up and slipped off her blouse. His quick hands beat her to the clasp of her bra; he’d already taken her panties with her pants.

His lips captured hers, while his hands slid the last vestiges of her clothing off her. He leaned her back once more, settling his body against hers.

“This more along the lines of what you were thinking?” she teased against his neck between lingering kisses.

“Much closer.” He shifted his hips against her, pressing against her core with the measured motion.

“Guess you really missed me.”

“Always, beautiful.” He licked her nipple, teasing it hard with his mouth.

“Me, too.” She adored the feel of him against her. His hands on her body, one on her hip that he held tight as he rocked against her. The firm heat of him parting her and teasing against her clit.

When she came in, she’d just wanted to climb in bed and cuddle up against him and fall asleep. Now all she wanted was for him to stop toying with her and take her. “I want you.”

Doc hummed straightening against her and looking her in the eye. “Say it again.” It wasn’t a question, but an order. The commanding tone in his voice sent a shiver through her.

Amaryn smiled at him. “I,” she pressed a kiss against his chin, “want,” another kiss at the corner of his mouth, “you, Arch.” Her fingers threaded through the hair at his temples while she waited to see if her demand would be granted. Her skin tingled with anticipation.

Another pleased hum rumbled through him and he captured her lips in a deep kiss. She knew what would happen next as he moved against her. His body trembled against hers with the same want. The rock of his hips steepened and his hand slipped between them. He traced the tip of his cock against her and poised himself at her entrance. Only when he broke the kiss and had her full attention again did he ease into her.

He wanted to savor her reaction, she knew. He’d told her it was one of the things he could never get enough of. The unabashed way she moaned when he entered her; her eyes slipping closed, head falling back in a zealous enjoyment of him, them. A low hum hung in his throat and he bent his head to savor the thin skin of her throat as he moved slowly—easing out of her almost entirely only to steal another soft moan when he filled her again.

When Doc relinquished her neck, her hand slid from his shoulder to his cheek, guiding his mouth back to hers. She lavished him in slow, lingering kisses. They were lush and greedy, much like the way he moved inside her. The two of them lazed in every centimeter of connection they shared.

The Jedi clung to him; one hand anchored to the back of his neck as the other moved far more freely. When the snap of his hips sharpened, she grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper, or at least tried to. His hand on her hip gripped tight enough to bruise. It only made her pulse quicken, not that it wasn’t already racing fast enough to burst at the right provocation.

“Don’t stop,” she cooed, the words echoing into his open mouth as she squeezed his ass again. Her nails traced over the curve of his hip, then her fingers sneaked down between them with purpose.

She could read his breathing, the way his body moved and tightened against her. Though she knew there was no chance he would ever leave her unsatisfied, it did nothing to change the fact that she preferred the feeling of him inside her when she came. And that’s what she wanted in that moment—to lose herself with him. To give him every sensation her body could yield.

“Never,” he assured her.

Even if it wasn’t precisely accurate, the sentiment meant more than the reality.

Her tongue flicked against his top lip and Doc dove for her mouth again. Her finger moved in a perfect tight circle. His hand moved to her breast, teasing at her sensitive nipples because he knew it would spur her onward, bring her closer. Then his teeth grazed the ridges on her jaw, teasing a trail along her neck that left her mewling and arching against his body.

“Please,” she breathed, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He sucked at her collarbone. His rhythm relentless and steady. She could feel the telltale shift in his body. That almost desperate way he gasped for breath between kisses and bites. There was a difference in the way he felt inside her right before he came, and she was right there with him.

“Amaryn,” he growled against her lips before he kissed her hard again. “Aw, fuck.”

He knew the instant she climaxed—her body went rigid against him as she pressed herself flush to his body, as if in that moment they could find a way to meld into one. Then everything was lost in a haze of shuddering intensity. Her hips bucked up to meet him in a rhythm all their own. A rhythm that didn’t match the forceful thrust of his orgasm.

Doc stilled before she could manage it, dotting her chest, neck and collarbone, with soft kisses as she moved in some primal rhythm chasing the dregs of that exquisite sensation he sparked beneath her skin. Her grip on him softened as her body relaxed. Grabbing his chin, she pressed long deep kisses into his mouth.

“Insatiable,” he chuckled against her lips as she continued to move beneath him.

She laughed, smiling into the kiss with a soft content hum. “You only have yourself to blame.”

He settled against her more fully, once the hand that had been between them fell onto the bed. “Really?”

“You spoil me. Always let me have my fill and more.”

Doc traced his fingers over the line of her neck and along her jaw. “Couldn’t ever give you anything less than my all.”

“I know.” She blinked up at him, finally finding his gaze once more. Amaryn knew the truth of the statement and it went far beyond just the bedroom. Even though she was trained to face any threat, he still tried to protect her. Cared for her when everyone else assumed she was strong enough. A smile curved her lips and her fingers traced soft strokes along his bare skin. “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

Amid the darkness and shadows, his smile is only really noticeable in the way it makes his eyes dance. “I love you, too,” he reminds her. His kiss is firm and strong, just like the arm cradling her against him.

Their kiss broke only when he shifted ever so slightly to grab up the edge of the sheets and blanket. The movement might not have been graceful, but it worked to cover them enough to stave off a chill against their slick skin. For what it lacked in complete comfort, it made up in coziness. They barely moved, merely wrapping the other up in their arms and holding tight. Amaryn left one leg draped over his hip as they cuddled tightly beneath the thin silky sheet.

There was nowhere else in the entire galaxy she would rather be in that moment, or any other moment really. He was exactly what her weary soul needed just then. She buried her nose in the curve of his neck to hide from any possible streak of light that might pull her from her little slice of utopia. Doc pulled her closer, cradling her tightly in an embrace she could trust implicitly.

[hydrospanners]

somewhere we’ve not been before. After weeks of casual encounters and stolen moments, Doc and Rea finally go on a proper date. Or a date, anyway. Proper isn't really their style. SWTOR. F!Jedi Knight x Doc. Fluff with a dash of sin, only a little explicit. 4400 words. AO3. Also recommend listening to It’s Strange by Louis the Child if you are the sort to listen to music while reading. Shoutout to @meonlyred for beta services here.

He watches her from the door, leaning against the frame in that signature pose of his. Rea thinks there’s a smile hiding under that stupid mustache, but she doesn’t get a chance to look for it before she has to move.

  It’s a memory she’s fighting. A ghost with a lightsaber that hums in her mind as it passes through the place her head had just been. She sees the flash of red in her memory as she drops to one knee, rolling away from its reach. She remembers how the Sith stood behind her, how he raised his hand and she felt the rising crest of his power just a little too late.

  But this time she knows it’s coming. This time she turns, glances over her shoulder just in time to glimpse the lightning that sparks between his fingers. This time, she moves before it strikes her and she isn’t paralyzed by the electricity when he reaches for the detonator. This time, she twists, slides under the Sith’s guard in the blink of an eye. This time, she buries a saber in his spinal column before he can so much as move.

  She imagines the blink of shock, the way his jaw would slip open in surprise, how the power pulsing in his hand would fizzle. She imagines how it would feel to drive her other saber through his heart, to watch the light leave his eyes. How it would feel to watch the dark storm of him fizzle out into nothing. Into quiet.

  Rea trades her sabers for a towel and dabs at her sweat-slicked face. What’s done is done. Dwelling on it won’t bring back the dead.

  “You look awfully nice,” she says over the new scar on her shoulder.

  “Nice?” Doc huffs from the doorframe. “I think you mean ‘devastatingly handsome.’”

  Rea turns, raking her eyes over the lean lines of his body. With the way his suit is tailored, she’d say ‘devastatingly handsome’ is a serious undersell. He looks starsdamned delicious, the pearly gleam of his skin all the more striking against the wine-red fabric and crosh hide trim. The sleek silhouette is modern and elegant and he wears it naturally as anything, completely at home in the luxury of it.

  He couldn’t look more out of place on her ship if he tried. “Too handsome for the Renegade,” she agrees. “Hot date tonight?”

  He is definitely smiling under that stupid moustache. “Well, that depends,” he says.

  “Depends on what?” It’s not like he needs her permission to practice his charm on someone else. They don’t have that kind of a thing.

  “On how fast you can clean up, Gorgeous.”

# # #

Turns out Junior was right about her clothes. There’s nothing in Rea’s wardrobe but beat up combat suits, battered armor, and frayed leatheris jackets, all in shades of black and brown and grey. Makes him wish he’d gone for the little blue number instead of the shimmery silver one. Stars know she looks good in everything (and especially good in nothing) but she needs a little color in her life.

  “You know this is weird, right?” She shouts from the ‘fresher, where she’s cleaning and dressing faster than he’d imagined a person could. It’s a testament to Doc’s will that he’s firmly planted on her bed, even knowing she’s standing there in nothing but her underwear--and maybe not even that--with her skin glowing and fresh from the sonic. Warm and supple, soft as velvet...

  “It’s thoughtful,” he shouts back. “And charming.”

  “This dress is tailored, Doc. How do you even know my measurements?”

  “Hours of careful study.” Her laughter echoes against the close, metallic walls of the ‘fresher. “Not to rush you, Beautiful, but I did make a reservation. Had to bribe a guy and everything.”

  “Bribe?” Her head peeks out of the doorframe, blue eyes narrowed at him. “With whose credits?”

  For someone who burns through money like a fire through hyperdrive fuel, his Jedi can be pretty stingy. She won’t hesitate to lavish the droids in expensive upgrades or shower Red in those stealth field generators she’s always breaking, but when it comes to the little pleasures in life, Rea’s tighter than the Hutt cartel.

  “Why don’t you let ol’ Doc worry about that? Just for tonight.”

  Her gaze turns even sharper. “You holding out on me, Kimble?”

  She likes to remind him, now and again, that she knows his full name and isn’t afraid to use it. As if he could forget.

  “I would never. Now scoot, Gorgeous. We’ve got fifteen minutes before fashionably late is just late.���

# # #

She doesn’t miss how the waiter’s eyes linger on her date’s mouth. How they follow every stretch and quirk of Doc’s lips, how they caress the sharp line of his shoulders and revel in the elegant movement of his hands. From the shit-eating grin he shoots her as the kid stammers through the wine list, Rea guesses Doc hasn’t missed it either.

  Well. Two can play at that game.

  “I’m not much of a wine girl,” she laments, settling her elbows on the table and folding her arms beneath her breasts as she flutters her eyelashes up at their waiter. His wide eyes dutifully follow the plunging neckline of her gown to the swell of her cleavage, ghosting over the curve of her biceps too as he takes a gulp of air. “But I love to experiment with new things, and you seem like a man with experience. Do you have anything I might like?”

  His cheeks burn to an even darker scarlet and he tugs at the high collar of his uniform, trying desperately to redirect his gaze from her breasts to her eyes. It doesn’t seem to be working.

  “I, um--You, uh, might--Well--” Whatever tenuous grasp the kid had on his feelings evaporates as she leans forward, staring up at him like he’s the most interesting man in the world. His desire rushes out of him in waves, swallowing up everyone in his orbit. Rea can feel it taking root in her, spreading through her like warm honey in her veins. It makes it hard to keep her eyes on this adorable Zeltron kid instead of the man she really wants, but she always has loved a challenge.

  Rea crosses her legs to the side of the table, making sure the waiter gets a good view, and hums a sound of encouragement.

  “Why don’t you just surprise us?” Doc’s voice cuts through the haze, startling the kid out of his lusty stupor. Not that looking Doc’s way is any kind of improvement on the waiter’s predicament. From the look on his face, he’s as captivated by her date’s lazy grin as Rea is.

  She prefers it that way, she decides. A challenge is no fun if it’s too easy to win.

  The waiter stumbles through some kind of assent and leaves their table on unsteady legs. Rea watches him leave with keen eyes, digging deep with her own senses, beneath the attraction and the awe and the nerves, searching for any hint that their aggressive interest is making him actually uncomfortable. She doesn’t find anything but a hopeful, horny kid who can’t believe his own luck.

  When she turns back to Doc, he’s grinning at her with the most obvious delight. It’s the kind of look that would make a lesser woman go weak at the knees. The kind that leaves her fighting the urge to grab him by the lapels and devour him whole, right here in the middle of this swanky mobster restaurant.

  Instead, she gives him a knowing smile and shakes her head, toying with the rim of her water glass. “He’s a little young,” she tells him, just to be sure they’re on the same page. The kid is a year or two past twenty if she’s any judge, which is fine, but there’s something in his wide-eyed awe that leaves her feeling queasy. Like he wouldn’t be able to say no, even if he really wanted to.

  Nothing sexy about that.

  “Seems like he could use some confidence,” Doc agrees, his dark eyes boring into her. “I think we can probably help with that.”

  “Some of us more than others,” she grins, tossing her artfully tousled hair.

  “Wanna bet on that?”

  “You have to ask?”

# # #

The waiter leaves his number with the check. Doc knew which way this was gonna go by the third drink--the kid was so captivated by Rea’s neckline a Miraluka would’ve seen it--but that doesn’t make giving up his hard-earned credits any easier. Especially looking as good as he does tonight.

  He’d really thought he was getting somewhere with that thing about the kid’s smile, too.

  “Don’t take it too hard,” Rea consoles him, her grin only a little smug. “This dress of yours did most of the work.”

  The shimmering fabric of it shifts against her thighs as she stands, outlining every mouth-watering swell and curve of her. Doc indulges himself in a long, thorough look before conceding. “You may have had an unfair advantage.”

  It isn’t exactly comforting, knowing how little effort it took for her to win. Would it really have been so hard for the kid to give his holonet ID to both of the absurdly attractive people trying to seduce him? It’s what Doc would’ve done.

  Rea pats his arm, laughing. “You can wear it next time.”

  Despite the bruises on his ego, Doc finds himself grinning. “Next time,” he agrees. He isn’t sure she meant that as promise of another date (she didn’t and he knows it) but he decides it doesn’t matter. There’s this place on Coruscant he’s dying to show her, and forgiveness is more his style than permission anyway.

# # #

Doc can’t wait to see her face when he hands her the bottle.

  It’s almost too easy, lifting the keycard from the salesgirl’s pocket. Falling all over him like she is, running her hands over every part of him above the belt, pressing her whole body against his. Finding creative ways to display her extremely ample cleavage.

  She’s a pretty enough girl, another Zeltron like most of the Cartel’s front line, all wide eyes, perfect curls, and symmetry. Not as young as she wants him to think, with her fluttering lashes and manufactured blushes, but she has the sort of perfect, dewy skin to pull it off. And a voluptuous, exaggerated figure to distract anyone who isn’t convinced. Too exaggerated to be achieved without surgical assistance.

  But Doc isn’t buying what she’s selling. Not tonight.

  “I wonder if you accommodate private tastings?” He asks the girl in a whisper, rounding out the Huttese in his best Imperial drawl. “My Master has very particular taste, and I like to be quite—“ he pauses significantly, looking deep into her violet eyes “—thorough in my work. I like to focus and take my time. To really explore every note and flavor.”

  “Good wine is best when savored,” the salesgirl agrees, running her hand up the lapel of his suit. “I’m sure I can arrange something for you, Mr. Quinn.”

  “Doctor, actually. And thank you.”

  “A doctor? I do love a man who’s good with his hands.” She flutters her eyelashes at him again, and Doc’s surprised to find himself not at all enticed by the blush she wears so well. She plucks at his jacket playfully before she turns, throwing a sultry look over her shoulder as she crooks her finger at him. “Right this way, Doctor Quinn.”

  The cellar is empty, which makes the whole thing much easier. The salesgirl doesn’t ask for explanations when he drapes a towel over her eyes, tying it securely at the back of her head. She doesn’t try to stop him when he slips the very expensive bottle of champagne from her hands.

  She doesn’t notice he’s gone until the door hisses shut behind him.

  He locks her in with her own keycard. He doubts there’s any kind of emergency release or intercom inside the cellar—Hutts aren’t known for their concerns about employee safety—but Doc doesn’t wait to find out. After deactivating the security tag in the label, he ruffles his hair and undoes his shirt just enough to suggest he’d received some quality customer service. No one tries to stop him as he saunters out of the shop, one bottle of champagne and three juicy secrets richer.

# # #

It’s cold on the casino’s roof, the air thick and sharp, and the violent neon lights cast everything in a harsh, sickly glow. Everything except him, of course. It’s a testament to his beauty that even a Nar Shaddaa night looks good on him.

  “A bet’s a bet, Gorgeous.” Doc twists the cork from the champagne bottle with one practiced move. He swirls the bottle under his nose and gives a contented sigh. “Shame to drink this without proper glasses, though.”

  “Fizzy wine is fizzy wine,” she says. Rea’s always been more of a liquor girl.

  Doc just shakes his head. “Can’t believe I’m wasting this on someone who thinks ‘fizzy wine is fizzy wine’.” He sips at the bottle twice before passing it off.

  She’d refuse, let him have it to himself, except he went to all the trouble of stealing it. (It was considerably less trouble than she’d expected when she bet he couldn’t.)

  “Well?” He looks at her expectantly.

  “Sure is fizzy,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She passes the bottle back with a hearty burp. It’ll take more than a fancy dress to take the Corellia out of her.

  “Can’t figure out if I hate or love how you make every stupid thing you do seem so damn sexy.”

  “Right back at you, Handsome.” She shoots a particularly wounded look at that fucking mustache.

  He laughs, then sips again from the champagne, savoring the dry bitterness of it. “So you ready to pay up now?”

  “Deal’s a deal,” she says. “And we Corellians always pay our debts.”

  Doc snorts, because he’s known her long enough to know better by now. “How’s the shoulder?” He asks, glancing sideways at the shiny, still-pink scar.

  “You really want to waste a question finding out?”

  He grins. “Stingy, aren’t you?”

  “When it matters.”

  “Fine.” Doc turns his attention back to the neon cityscape around them. It’s loud and bright and smells like shit, but he seems to relish it as much as she does. “You keep saying how you weren’t always a Jedi, but you never say what you did before. Time to fess up, Beautiful.”

  “I was a smuggler,” Rea admits easily, the old aches so faint she hardly even feels them. “Well, a kid who played smuggler really. My aunt and her crew did the real work. I mostly watched the door, but they let me feel like it was important.”

  Doc raises a brow. “Hard to imagine you just watching a door. Even as a kid.”

  “Yeah.” Rea smiles. “I wasn’t a very good smuggler.”

  “That why you took a vow of celibacy?”

  “Nah. The Jedi thing was Rhese’s idea.” She glances at him. “And that’s two. Better choose your third question wisely.”

  Doc grins at her, his eyes sweeping slow and hungry from her head to her toes. She thinks again how entirely unfair it is that neon looks so damn good playing across his pearly skin. Even the fucking mustache looks good in the Nar Shaddaa lights. She buries her hands beneath her thighs and wonders how he expects her to behave when he’s sitting so close, looking like that? She wonders whether he made time in all his plans for the thing she’s been dying to do since she first laid eyes on him in that suit.

  “All right, Gorgeous. Last question.” His voice drops to that low timber she likes best, warm and smooth and rich as honey. “What’re you wearing under that dress?”

  It’s like he can read her starsdamned mind. Rea grins madly, too thrilled to be sultry, and leans forward just so, letting the thin strap of her gown slip from her shoulder. “Be easier to show than tell,” she purrs.

  Behaving is overrated anyway.

# # #

One of the perks of luxury speeders is the spacious, plush seating. It’s probably the most comfortable place they’ve ever fucked, and definitely the best-smelling. It also has the perk of being their transportation for the night, so Rea can’t run off on him as soon as she’s got what she came for.

  “You know the city pretty well for a delicate Core flower,” she says, once their breathing evens out. He’s learning that she doesn’t care much for silence, his Jedi.

  “Lived here for a bit after med school. Did your dossiers not tell you?”

  “You’re really holding onto that, aren’t you?”

  “What can I say? I like for things to happen organically. Anything you wanna know, Ol’ Doc will tell you. No need to root around in my extranet history.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groans. “It’s just standard procedure. I do the same thing to anyone who sets foot on my ship. I did the same thing to my own fucking brother. Of course I checked up on you! I barely knew you, and you’re clearly too charming to be trusted.”

  “Ouch, Gorgeous.”

  She rolls on her side to look him in the eyes, every warm, naked inch of her pressed firmly against every warm, naked inch of him. She doesn’t share his respect for their circumstances and is very serious when she says, “I’m in the middle of some fate-of-the-whole-Republic shit right now, Kimble. If you’re waiting on me to apologize for vetting you, you’ll be waiting a long fucking time.”

  “Noted,” he says, running a hand over the curve of her hip. She’s still damp with sweat and damn near glowing in the cabin lights. He trails his fingers down her thigh as he drinks her in. Doc is a man who knows his priorities, and tonight, this is his only concern. He’s not about to risk another conversation about all that weight she’s carrying around on her masterfully sculpted shoulders. Not tonight. “Now let’s go back to the part about my irresistible charm.”

  “Irresistible?” Rea laughs. “I never said anything about irresistible.”

  Doc slides his hand around to the inside of her thigh, stroking his way up the expanse of warm, velvety skin. “You’ll be saying it soon, Beautiful.”

  Priorities.

# # #

When she pictures Doc’s life before her, before Balmorra and the war, she pictures lots of clean lines and open spaces. Neutral colors, organic wood. Sullust leather and polished stone. Plenty of sumptuous throws and a few exotic trinkets with exotic stories to match. She pictured luxury and comfort. Warmth. Indulgence. Charm.

  His place on Nar Shaddaa is nothing like Rea pictured.

  “I can’t even imagine you here,” she admits, looking around his old bolthole, slack-jawed and shocked. It’s a cramped little place, dated and dirty, thick with the kind of grime that can only be cleansed by fire. Exactly the sort of place she would choose for herself, the sort of place she grew up in. The sort of place she always pictured him being repulsed by.

  But it is undeniably his space. What can be cleaned is clean, and what few belongings he dared to leave here, unattended, are neat and well-ordered. A place for everything and everything in its place, just like on the Renegade.

  Doc leans against the doorframe in that way again, arms crossed and bemused. “I guess there’s more to ol’ Doc than your dossiers can tell you, Gorgeous.”

  She feels a roiling in her belly, a little spark of fear, shying away from the unknown. And somewhere in the back of her mind, Rea hears the old familiar refrain, in a voice that sounds more hers than Ranna’s with every passing day. Everyone will betray you if you give them the chance. The words are hardly more than a whisper, and when the pleasant rush of good food and good sex and shameless, uninhibited fun threatens to drown it out entirely, she decides to let it.

  Whatever he’s hiding, whatever depths Teeseven’s intel didn’t manage to reach, Rea finds she’s willing to gamble on him. Archiban Frodrick Kimble may be a lying sneak, but he’s her lying sneak.

  “I can’t have you hiding things from me, Kimble,” she frowns, shooting for serious and missing the mark by lightyears. She leans back against the cheap, blocky sofa, drumming her fingers against the rough upholstery. “You’ve forced my hand. For the safety of the galaxy, I’m gonna have to investigate you. Thoroughly.”

  Doc raises his hands in an open-palmed gesture of surrender that somehow doesn’t look quite as supplicating as it should with the way he’s smirking. “You can investigate me for as long and as often as you want, Gorgeous.”

  “In that case, Doctor, drop your pants.”

# # #

He rolls his wrist, turning another of her bones to jelly and Rea can’t believe she went this long without knowing he could do this.

  “Don’t tell me they teach this in medical school.”

  “Well, I was in medical school when I learned it,” Doc says, and she can hear his smile even if she can’t see it right now. “Met this Falleen at a benefit. They could do things with their hands that you wouldn’t believe.”

  Rea sighs as his palm kneads at the tightly coiled muscle in her shoulder, the oil on her skin warming under his touch. “Falleen are so sexy.”

  “You say that about everyone.”

  “Just stating facts, Archiban. I can’t help facts.”

  He laughs, and she wishes she could see the way it makes his face glow, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. She can’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed, so weightless and warm. So… content.

  His thumbs dig into the muscles along her spine, and Rea damn near purrs.

  With the things he’s doing to her body, she doesn’t think she can be blamed when she asks for a happy ending.

  # # #

  “In a walker?”

  Rea takes another swig from the bottle.

  “In a prison cell?”

  She drinks again.

  “At a funeral?”

  “Does it count if I wasn’t attending the funeral? I was just spying on it from the room next door.”

  Doc lifts his brow. “It counts, but I have questions.”

  She shrugs. “I’m a good multi-tasker.”

  “What about in zero g?”

  Rea just smiles, raising the bottle to him before tipping it back and draining the rest of the whiskey. He watches the movement of her throat as she swallows. Lets his eyes linger on her lips, wrapped around the mouth of the bottle.

  Damn.

  “How does that even work?” He asks, ignoring how the words get a little stuck in his throat.

  “I could show you.” She gives him one of his favorite grins, all wickedness and light. “But it would probably just make you sick. Some things you really do need the Force to appreciate.”

  “You been with a lot of other Jedi, then?” He isn’t exactly an expert, but Doc’s met enough of her coworkers to know the Order’s reputation for celibacy is pretty well-earned. Rea is exceptional in that way. In a lot of ways.

  “A few. Mostly when I was younger. Been with a couple of Sith too.” She shrugs. “It’s like I said. Everyone is sexy. It really can’t be helped.”

  Doc finds it hard to argue with that, even if he’s been too preoccupied with sharp blue eyes and sculpted muscles to look anywhere else lately. He wonders if she’s had the same problem, but he isn’t sure if he really wants the answer. He can’t decide what answer he wants to hear.

  A beam of light passes overhead before he can settle on anything, and Rea is suddenly climbing over him, tearing the out the belly of the control panel with her bare hands. His mouth goes a little dry as he watches her ripping at the wires, ignoring the sparks as she snaps and ties and rearranges. So clever and deft and sure.

  The engine hums to life just as the doors swish open. Someone shouts in gutteral Huttese—“There they are!”—and Ejesh’s guards start to pour into the darkened garage, all of them gleaming in garish gold armor and pointing their blaster rifles right at the speeder they’re apparently stealing.

  Rea’s fingers wrap around the throttle, her expression pure focus, eyes alight with exhilaration, and Doc is too captivated with the sight to even notice the world falling away around them. They explode out of the garage and into open air, flipping nose to tail before gliding easily into traffic.

  She is magnificent in that moment, hair whipping wildly in the wind, skin damn near glowing in the neon lights, laughing over the hum of the engine and the distant echo of blaster fire. Doc finds himself laughing with her, his heart hammering erratically as they speed into the night. As she turns that heart-stopping smile on him.

  “Where to, Handsome?”

  # # #

She lingers over him, foreheads pressed together, her hands fisted in the sheets by his head. He is panting beneath her, caressing her hips and waist and thighs, stroking her lightly where they are still joined. Bringing her down slowly, drawing out her pleasure as much as he can.

  This is the fourth time she’s had him today, and she can’t help thinking how different it is.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, breathless.

  “Yeah,” Rea agrees. Smiles. “Fuck.”

  She’s still quivering as she rises off of him, collapsing boneless against the sheets. His hands follow her, fingertips brushing featherlight along her clavicle, along the delicate underside of her arm. The touch is electric to her still-sensitive skin, stoking the heat inside her.

  “You, uh—“ Archiban says, still gasping for breath between words. “You need—Can I—More?”

  “No.” She brings his hand to her lips, kissing the back of it. Her body is still reaching, still warm and slick and incandescent. She could. She could rise and rise and rise again. He would lift her up as many times as she liked, even if he couldn’t join her at the peak.

  But Rea finds she doesn’t want to tumble over that edge if he isn’t falling with her. Not tonight. Not after the extraordinary thing that just happened between them. Something slow, something savoring and deliberate. Electrifying. Intense.

  Beautiful.

  Rea can’t remember the last time she felt the stars burning inside her.

  She lets herself relax into the comfort of her bed, into the warm body tucked around her, and the cool scratchy sheets beneath her. Sheets he hates, but apparently not enough to keep him away. “Hell of a date you planned, Kimble.”

  She tilts her head to find him grinning down at her, looking smug despite the flush to his cheeks. “I know.”

  “You sure can show a Jedi a good time.”

  “I’d say that I tried, but we both know it just comes naturally.”

  “But only four times,” she adds, grinning back and nudging him with her hip.

  He rolls his eyes. “If you want mo--”

  “I got everything I wanted,” she is quick to cut him off, her tone a touch more serious than she planned. “It was good, Archiban. Extraordinary. Better than I have the words to describe.”

  He bypasses the perfect opening to tease her about her limited vocabulary and brings their joined hands to his lips instead, pressing delicate little kisses to her knuckles as he holds her gaze. It’s the kind of tenderness she ordinarily finds suffocating but--Well, she’s not a droid, is she? And it’s been so long since anyone handled her with gentleness.

  Rea swallows down a sudden surge of emotion, turning her head so he can’t bore into her with those dark eyes. “So why’d you bring me back here of all places? I figured you booked some kinda fantasy suite, some place with chocolates on the pillows and vibrating beds.”

  Archiban laughs. “That’s a great idea for when you take me on a date,” he says, sounding very certain of that happening, “but tonight was for you, Gorgeous. And you aren’t gonna enjoy yourself if you’re checking under the bed for mines.”

  And she realizes for the first time that she is relaxed. That every muscle in her body feels like warm molasses and she hasn’t glanced at the door once. Hasn’t itched for her lightsaber or jumped at an out-of-place noise. That somewhere along the way, she stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Fuck,” she says, waiting wide-eyed for a spike of panic. For the walls to start closing in, for the heat between their bodies to turn unbearable. For the tension to creep up her spine and the escape routes to start mapping themselves in her mind.

  But it doesn’t happen. Instead Rea lays there, half-curled around him and half-sprawled on top of him, their hearts beating in time, and feels nothing but comfort and pleasure and happiness. Honest to stars happiness.

  Archiban Kimble, she is finding, is much more dangerous than she ever guessed. And the thing about Rea?

  She can’t help chasing danger.

[jedimasteramell]

Fives Times, Cael & Astra

Original Characters // SWTOR // SFW

The four times Cael missed Astra’s birthday, and the one time he didn’t.

Sorry @uldren-sov this was so late lol, happy extra-extra-belated birthday

————

i.

Balmorra is nothing but pitted earth, colicoid slime, and a pervasive sensation of frustration bordering on hopelessness; from the Balmorrans and Imperials both. After more than three weeks here, Cael could go another life without experiencing any more of it. Maybe if he could get more sleep it would help.

How painfully ironic that Baras was using him to hunt down his own loose ends embedded in the Republic? The murder of Rylon’s son stung him somewhere under the impassivity he’d been trained in. A Sith would have done it, and that what he was now wasn’t he? Astra had disapproved, as she did of many of his decisions. It’d been months since they met on Korriban and she remained as evasive to his scrutiny as she was to attacks during battle. And yet despite that, or mayhaps in spite of it, he’d yet to shake her. Astra had a game of her own, and he’d yet to figure if it was in his interest to play it with her or leave the board all together.

As if summoned, Cael heard her melodic drawl. “Lucien, there you are.”

“Astra.” He greeted curtly, stiffening as she brushed her fingers across his arm, mentally damning that the reaction was not entirely an act. Of every impulse he could restrain, the way he felt about being touched escaped his control more often than he was comfortable with.

She smiled in response, the barest hint of teeth feline and tsked. “It wouldn’t hurt you to pretend you weren’t so petulant all the time.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, scoffing, though his retort curled the corner of his mouth. “And what would you do if I weren’t so?”

Astra’s eyes narrowed wickedly and she flicked her hair back, golden jewelry sparking in the glow of the morning. “Fall into another’s heroic arms I suppose.”

At the memory of the other day, he summoned a flush to his cheeks. Let her think she had any power over him, that she knew who the ‘real’ Lucien was. The gesture seemed to satisfy Astra who rolled her neck and walked away towards her dashade. As she went, Cael watched and mused. For him to truly trick her, he needed to know her, and yet after months he knew nothing personal: not a last name, not an age, not even the planet she grew up on.

Seems his choice was to play the game.

ii.

A fast flight from Dromund Kaas with a half-dead Astra was not how Cael planned on continuing his day.

He’d meant to arrive with gusto, a lord, confidant, working past his months of fumbling through Alderaan and Nar Shaddaa. But all that went out the window taking her to safety, half guiding, half carrying her to his ship. She muttered things like ‘Thanaton’ ‘punishment for Zash’ and ‘doesn’t know I’m alive’. Part of him even wanted to believe the glimmer of recognition in her eyes was of appreciation as he led her up the gangplank and order Quinn to take off

Even after they cleared atmo, and the inertia shifted with the jump to lightspeed, the little twist in Cael’s heart hadn’t subsided. Keeping his expression a stern mask of unconcern, his thoughts kept slipping back to Astra asleep in his quarters.

He’d fallen so far into this game, times like these he cursed under the lull of the engines how distracted he’d become from the bigger picture. Astra came to him. She’d never done that before. In truth, he’d been the one that needed her assistance, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that had they not met on Korriban she’d have come this far regardless. Crafty, charming, an impressive actress, she’d survive, for it seemed that was what she did.

The knot in his chest tightened uncomfortably. A slick blade of cold guilt he had to toss away. Now was not the time to consider any of this. He should have never gotten this close to begin with, not to apoint where her memory wormed into his thoughts, when her smile and teasing glare was enough to blow him off course.

If Master Sen knew he’d order her death and Cael would have to comply, eliminate Astra before she became a sympathetic person in his eyes. There would be no deep questions, no pursuit of her past, no extraneous interest, or so Cael resolved himself.

Just why did that knife keep turning?

iii.

Strange how much Corellia reminded him of Balmorra, or maybe not strange at all, the carnage, separated by space and stars replicated itself over and over on each world with a breathable atmosphere. Strange how he’d gotten so used to the smoke, sounds of distant buildings tumbling to the ground, the chorus of screams and blaster fire, and the bodies in the millions; so much so that it didn’t faze him anymore. He wished he could attribute it to his composure as a Jedi, but that was a lie. A part of him had died somewhere.

Shame the rest of him refused to follow suit.

A huff from behind him, signaled Astra’s arrival, having followed him out of the spaceport. He readjusted his composure as she stopped next to him, arms crossed and her own expression unreadable as she stared out over the burning city. In her winged armor, glowing with the hazy orange-reds of the sunset and the fleeting light glittering off her jewelry, she looked like an angel of death to him. The fire in her golden eyes matched the flames eating at the city.

His heart stirred, a painful tightening of the only emotion he seemed to feel these days: guilt. Guilt for lying to her, guilt for planning to disassemble everything she and the rest of the Empire worked for. Guilt for falling in love with her and letting her see it.

Seeming to have resolved herself, Astra looked up to him, a cat-like expression on her face, and something else maybe. “Just this last place and we’ll be through with Thanaton and Baras.” Cured of the crippling effects the Sith spirits had on her body, fearlessly ready to win the Kaggath, her devious spark had come back in full. Her fingers danced up his arm, and while he stiffened, just as he always had, no longer was it from inexperience or reluctance. Though that part of him was true enough, she always seemed to enjoy that boyish aspect of Lucien. “Try not to look so excited.”

Cael summoned a small smile just for her, and Astra accepted it, strolling down the ramp towards the Imperial outpost. There was a confidence in her he wished he could mirror, and only the smallest spark of curiosity of what she’d been planning when he caught up with her in the spaceport. Only one way to find out. He followed after her, a large, dark shadow in her wake.

The ringing of her comm brought her to a pause, answering it to the miniature blue aspect of the Moff she’d allied herself with.

“My Lord,” Pyron bowed “we’ve found out more concerning Darth Thanaton’s apprentice, if you choose so, I believe he could be swayed to reveal his master’s plans. He has not been the Darth’s apprentice for very long.”

Astra’s smile was wicked. “Thank you Pyron.” Bowing once more the holo disappeared. “What a productive day this is turning out to be, Thanaton must have known it was my birthday.”

Part of him registered that, mapped the date. Before he got his mouth working, she had already walked off, leaving him with little more than a glance over her pauldroned shoulder.

Next year… He’d say it next year…

He’d be lying to himself if he thought he ever had that chance.

iv.

“I can never tell with you Jedi, is it stoicism or moodiness?” Jonas Balkar swiveled casually on his bar stool, his languid glance around the room hiding his professional vigilance. He’d dragged Cael out to one of his favored dives, one with just the right ambiance as he put it. Which was Jonas speak for ‘good booze, good music, real dancers, and at least 5 escape points’.

Cael stared into his untouched glass, like the thick amber liquid could give him some new kind of insight. He reached up to run a hand through his hair, only to be met with the short strands of his recent haircut. One of the only things that changed since he’d returned to SIS and the Republic.

“You can never tell with Theron either.” Cael countered, making the same instinctual sweep around the cantina Jonas had.

The other spy raised a humored eyebrow and downed the remains of his drink. “Shan is easy, because he’s always both.” Jonas glanced at Cael’s untouched drink but said nothing as he waved the bar droid over for another.

“He was raised like me, at least for a time, so what do you think that says?” Strumming his fingers on the bartop, Cael fought off the darkness that crept up on him when he least expected it, pretending like everything was fine for another night.

Not that Jonas bought it. “That says you jedi are all irascible philosophers with one facial expression.” He humphed, amused at his own retort.

Absently swirling the glass for maybe the eighth time that night, Cael’s heart suddenly quickened at the fleeting glimpse of vermillion skin. Stomach in his throat, he turned in time to watch a red-skinned twi’lek wrap her arms around neck of a fellow patron. When she kissed them, Cael’s gut turned to lead, that pang in his chest that refused to heal, a burning knot. He set his elbows on the counter and covered his mouth with his hands.

Having followed the fleeting moment, Jonas scrutinized him and finished his newest drink. Though he might have never read Cael’s report, and Director Trant had made the subject highly classified, that didn’t mean Balker couldn’t read Cael himself. “I thought you weren’t supposed to form attachments.” He whispered in genuine sympathy.

“Today is her birthday.” Cael admitted, tongue suddenly too heavy and awkward in his mouth. He hadn’t spoken about her aloud in months, the mere memories the subject summoned enough to demand his reticence. “Three years, I never knew, never wished her happy birthday. I… I never asked.”

Jonas pushed Cael’s glass closer towards him. “You’ll get to, someday.”

And with such comforting conviction, the sweet lie almost tasted real.

v.

Morning sunlight chased the mist deeper into the forests on Odessen. The fresh scent of earth and dewey stone combined with the way the balanced Force cradled everything on the planet was enough to blanket Cael with one of the most profound senses of peace he’d experienced in a long long time.

There was only one place where he felt more alive, more confident, more right: being beside Astra.

She’d gotten up earlier than him, a gentle surprise. It wasn’t her movement or noise that roused him, but the caress of the bond between them. It remained, of all he had seen, the most improbable chance. The Force had bonded the two of them, an unbreakable tie that ebbed unhurriedly along like the waves that lapped at a ponds edge. So many things had come to clarity when they learned of it, and those understandings had settled flawlessly into place when she accepted it.

Cael couldn’t stop the smile that the reflection brought to his lips. It had only taken ten years, but now he knew that the part of him he thought had died, the piece that was missing: it was accepting his love for her, and all the good and bad moments, the wondrous and ill decisions, that brought with it.

“Morning.” He found her in the hanger, breathing in time to the life awakening across the planet, knowing she sensed him long before he even spoke. Astra slipped softly from her meditation, turning her brilliant eyes on him. They narrowed with affection as she smiled.

“Good morning to you too sleepy-head.” Graceful red fingers rose to run through his hair, unwinding the little tufts that tangled in his sleep.

He kissed the top of her head, settling into the calm that just came from being at her side. “Happy Birthday Astra.”

The red-skinned sith looked up in shock, yellow eyes wide. “How did you know it was my birthday?”

Cael grinned at her. “How accusatory,” he teased, “were you planning on not telling me?”

Astra’s eyes rolled theatrically, her hands on his hips. “It’s not that… and that wasn’t the answer to my question.”

“I’ve known for a long time… since Corellia.” Cael’s eyes clouded with the bittersweet memories for a second before Astra’s touch drew him out. “You said it so casually, and I, well, I hadn’t been in a good place. For a long time it was one of the few things I truly knew about you. There was so much I never asked, so much I selfishly ignored. I’ve wanted to say that for seven years now, finally got my chance. I’m sorry I don’t have a present.”

Wrapping him in a tight embrace, the bond conveyed what words couldn’t: a kittenish mix of affection, amusement, and melancholy.

Astra’s cheek rested against his collarbone and she nuzzled him a moment before turning her eyes up to his, gold melding with gold. A part of her wanted to be painfully sentimental, to say that him being here was enough, but rather she grinned, cupping the side of his face in her hand, tilting him down towards her. “I can think of so many presents you can give me, and in so many positions.

Blood immediately shot to Cael’s cheeks turning nearly as crimson as she was. Never was he going to get used to that teasing from her; or control the way he reacted to it.

Astra laughed, a charming and heartened purr, dragging him closer to press an adoring kiss to his lips. She felt his affection surge down their bond in time with his arms drawing her ever closer.

Breaking for air, Cael’s cheeks still scarlet, she laughed once more, overcome by the swelling of emotions in her heart and the breathlessness in her lungs. “You being here is enough.” Okay maybe she could be a bit cliched. “But if it’s really so pressing, I find my legs are just not strong enough to stand, you’ll have to carry me around all day.”

Cael smiled broadly, swooping in to kiss her with the same motion that swept her up into his arms. There was not removing the doe-eyed tenderness from his eyes and foolish grin off his face. Stars, how he loved her. “I think that can be arranged.”