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jetii · 24 days ago

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The New Deal

Part One

Pairing: Thorn x Senator Vale Ishani (OC)

Words: 13,256 / 27,656

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, secret relationship, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, fluff, feelings talk, so much flirting, dirty talk, manhandling, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), cum play, p in v sex, Thorn is submitting his application for trophy husband, and he has references

Summary: It's been a month since Thorn and Vale have returned to Coruscant from her home planet of Atrisia, and so far they've managed to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But Thorn can't help but want more than a few stolen moments in the dark, and he's ready to prove to Vale that it's worth it.

A/N: I have nothing to say to defend myself re: word count. I just like making the dolls kiss. A lot.

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As the dinner drags on, Thorn finds himself growing increasingly restless.

The conversations have devolved from polite small talk to petty gossip and political backstabbing, and he's starting to regret not sneaking Vale out when he had the chance. He's standing next to the window, his eyes constantly roving the room, but his mind has long since wandered.

He's lost track of how long it's been since they returned to the party from their tryst on the balcony, but the sun has set, and the sky has turned from a dark blue to a deep indigo. He can't help but glance at his chrono every few minutes, his foot tapping impatiently. The seconds tick by, and the party continues, and Vale is trapped, unable to leave.

The guests are growing rowdier, the senators and business owners all well into their cups. They're all drunk and loud, their voices filling the room, and a dull headache begins to throb in Thorn's temples. The food has run out, the kitchen staff have long since gone home, and the music has been switched off, leaving only the hum of conversation to fill the silence.

It's as clear of a signal as any that the party is over, and yet, the guests show no sign of leaving.

Thorn shifts his weight, his back aching, and his hand moves to the blaster at his hip, brushing against the familiar hilt. He's more than ready to escort the lot of them out. Hell, he's more than ready to shoot a few rounds into the ceiling and tell them all to leave.

But, as much as he'd like to, that would be a spectacularly bad idea.

The evening has been tense enough already, the guests and politicians both scrutinizing every interaction and trying to determine if they're getting a fair shake or not. They've all been watching him, too, and he knows he's been the topic of conversation more than once. It's not hard to imagine what they're saying. What is a member of the Coruscant Guard doing here? Why is she entertaining him? Why is she letting him stand there like a guard dog?

He's been trying his best to stay out of sight, to be as invisible as possible, and he's done a pretty good job. But the moment one of the Coruscanti businessmen stepped too close to Vale, he moved further into the room, positioning himself so he can see her without having to turn his head.

He's not sure how much longer he can take this.

As the guests move further into the room, their conversations growing louder, Thorn feels a surge of anger. They're getting comfortable, like they own the place, and they've made no effort to thank Vale for her hospitality.

His gaze flits across the room, landing on the woman in question as she moves through the room, mingling with the guests. She's always charming, always friendly, but there's a hint of fatigue in her expression, a weariness that hadn't been there before.

Vale looks beautiful, her smile dazzling and her hair immaculate, but Thorn can see the tightness around her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. She's putting on a brave face, trying to stay upbeat, and it makes his heart ache.

He tries not to think about what Trina had said to him during dinner, but it's hard. Vale is surrounded by people, by friends and colleagues and business partners, but none of them seem to care about her. They all talk over her, or talk around her, or ignore her entirely. She smiles politely, she makes small talk, she shakes hands and kisses cheeks, but no one is listening.

She deserves better than this. She deserves more than to be treated like a decoration, or an ornament, or a trophy. She's smart and funny and charming, and the people around her seem completely unaware of her brilliance. They only care about her name, or her title, or her influence, and none of them seem to have a genuine interest in who she is.

Thorn's seen how much effort she puts into her work, and the countless hours she spends preparing for Senate sessions, preparing speeches and researching bills and pouring over the Republic's budget. And yet, here she is, forced to play the part of the gracious hostess, while her guests treat her like a prop.

He can't understand why she would do this to herself. Why she would put up with it, and why she would let herself be used.

But then again, maybe he can.

Thorn glances at his chrono again, letting out a heavy sigh. It's almost midnight, well past the time the dinner was supposed to end. He's starting to wonder if Vale's guests are ever going to leave, and the idea that he's going to be stuck here all night, so close and yet so far away from her, is agonizing.

The thought of what he'd rather be doing instead is even worse.

"Are you okay, Commander?" Trina whispers, a hint of amusement in her voice as she approaches him.

"Yes," he hisses, his voice tight.

Her eyebrows raise at his tone, and he sighs, his shoulders slumping. "Sorry."

"It's alright," she says as she leans against the wall next to him. She's holding a glass of wine, and she takes a sip, her eyes flicking over his face. "I get it. This isn't exactly the most exciting thing."

"You can say that again," he grumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other again. He rolls his shoulders, trying to ease the ache in his lower back, and lets out a huff. "It's been hours. What are they doing?"

"Making deals, making threats, making alliances," she says, shrugging. "You know how it is."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, I do," he mutters, and she lets out a quiet laugh.

Trina glances around the room, her eyes darting from person to person, and her expression shifts from playful to concerned. Her gaze lands on Vale, who's laughing at something someone said, her arms wrapped around her torso, and Thorn's stomach twists.

"How's she doing?" he asks, keeping his voice low.

"She's alright.” She doesn't meet his gaze, her focus still on Vale, and her fingers tap a slow, steady rhythm on the side of her glass. "I'm not sure how much longer she's going to last."

"Yeah, me neither," he replies. His eyes flick back to his chrono, and his lips press into a thin line. "You'd think they'd have the decency to wrap it up soon."

Trina snorts. "Have you met politicians? They have no concept of decency."

He scoffs. She's right. It's almost as bad as dealing with criminals. He's seen his fair share of shady dealings and unethical behavior, but politicians are on another level entirely.

"That's the nature of the game," she says, her voice low. "They never want to be the first to leave, because they think it'll look bad. So they all hang out for as long as they can, hoping that the others will get tired and go home."

"That's stupid," he grunts.

"I know," she sighs. She pushes herself off the wall and starts walking towards the kitchen, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I think it’s time for dessert. Do you mind helping me? There's something I want to show you."

Thorn hesitates, glancing at Vale. She's talking to one of the businessmen, a younger man with a finely groomed beard, and a flash of jealousy courses through him. He knows she's only being friendly, that it's just her job, but the sight of the man looking at her, his eyes wandering down her body, makes him seethe.

"I should stay," he says, his grip on his blaster tightening. "I don't want her to be unguarded.”

"She'll be fine. Besides, I'll only need a few minutes," she says. "Come on. You look like you need a break."

"I can't," he protests, shaking his head.

"Sure you can. Come on. It'll be fun."

"No," he says. His gaze is still fixed on Vale, and he frowns, watching as the man leans in, his hand resting on her arm. "I need to stay here. With her."

"Commander, it's just for a few minutes," she presses. Trina pauses, taking a breath, and her voice drops. “Please. Trust me."

There's a pleading note in her voice, and Thorn can't help but turn to look at her. There's something in her eyes, something urgent and serious, and he feels his stomach flip.

He nods in reluctant agreement, and her shoulders sag.

"Come on," she says, nodding her head towards the kitchen.

He follows her, his gaze sweeping the room once more before they disappear behind the wall. The kitchen is empty, the counters still covered in dirty dishes and half-eaten plates of food, and the smell of cooking oil and spices hangs heavy in the air.

"So what is it you wanted to show me?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Trina closes the door behind them, locking it and placing her back against it.

"Okay. New plan," she says, her voice low. "Are you up for it?"

"Yes," he replies without hesitation.

"Good. Here's what we're going to do," she starts, setting her glass on the counter. She leans closer, and he mirrors her movement, lowering his head and listening intently. "We’re faking an emergency. We have a security issue, a breach, something like that. I don’t know, use your imagination. Whatever gets everyone to leave."

Thorn blinks. "What?"

"You heard me. You're the commanding officer, aren't you? You can make it an order. Make a scene. Tell them you have to check the whole building, top to bottom," she says. She glances over her shoulder, towards the door, and turns back to him. "Tell them you need them out. Now."

"You want me to lie? To these people?" he asks, his voice incredulous. "Didn't we already establish that I'm a terrible liar?"

"You'll be fine," she assures him. "Just improvise. You're doing your job. And you're protecting her. I'm sure they'll understand."

"You're asking a lot," he grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I know. But you're not really going to get her alone until these people leave, and they're not going to leave unless you force them to," she says as she gestures around the kitchen. "Besides, this is for her own good. It'll give her a chance to decompress."

He doesn't like the idea of lying, but Trina has a point. These people won't leave until they're ready, and Vale is exhausted. If she were his, really his, he'd make sure she was taken care of, that she was safe, and that she was happy. And right now, she's none of those things.

And he'll do whatever it takes to change that.

Maybe this is his chance. Maybe this is his opportunity to do what he can for her, to give her what she needs, and to show her that he's here.

"Look, do you want her or not?" Trina asks as she picks up her glass and drains the rest of the wine.

"Of course I do," he hisses, and her lips curve into a smug smile.

"Then do something about it," she says. "She wants you too, and she needs a break."

He lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze falling to the floor. He doesn't like lying, and he doesn't like pretending, but he'll do it for her. He'll do it if it means giving her a few minutes of peace.

"Fine. Let's do it," he mutters. "What's the plan?"

"The plan," she says with a mischievous grin, "is to scare the kriff out of these people."

Thorn can't help but snort, the prospect of a good, old-fashioned Coruscant Guard scare suddenly appealing.

"I can do that," he grunts. He cracks his knuckles, his mind racing, and a slow smirk spreads across his face. "I can definitely do that."

"Thought you might say that," she says, her grin growing. She turns back to the door, her hand on the knob, and looks at him. "Ready?"

Thorn follows her back into the living area, and the conversations die down as soon they step into the middle of the room. He scans the crowd, and the guests fall silent, their eyes moving from him to Trina, and back again. Vale looks at him, confusion and concern written on her face, and he gives her a subtle nod. He hopes she'll forgive him for this.

"Commander?" she says, her brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

"Senator, I'm afraid we have a problem," he says, his voice loud and firm. The guests exchange looks, and a few stand. He ignores them, focusing on Vale. "There's been a threat."

Vale's eyes widen. "A threat? What kind of threat?"

"I can't go into details," he says, glancing at the others. A few senators and businessmen have already moved towards the door, their faces pale. He looks back at her, and her lips press into a thin line. "But it's a credible threat. You need to evacuate. Now."

Vale stares at him, her jaw clenched, and he can see the wheels turning in her head. She's going to say no. He knows it. She's going to refuse, and she's going to call his bluff, and this whole thing is going to be ruined.

But instead, she just nods.

"Alright, everyone. I'm afraid we'll have to cut our evening short," she says, her voice steady and calm. The remaining guests let out groans and protests, and a few begin gathering their belongings. She rises to her feet, smoothing out her dress. "If you could please follow me. The Commander will show us the way."

"You can't be serious," Senator Taa grumbles, his eyes narrowing. "This is preposterous. No one is going to threaten a senator in her own apartment. It's—"

"Sir, with all due respect, I am not asking," Thorn interjects. He gestures towards the door, his voice taking on a harder edge. "There is a credible threat against Senator Ishani's life. And if you do not evacuate, I will escort you out myself. By force, if necessary."

The Senator lets out a noise of indignation, and Thorn takes a step towards him, his hand moving to the hilt of his blaster.

"Senator," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."

Taa scoffs, but he follows the other guests as they make their way out the front door. Trina leads them down the hall towards the turbolift, and Thorn brings up the rear, making sure no one is left behind. He can hear the guests grumbling, their voices carrying through the corridor, and he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

He stands to the side as the group piles into the lift before holding his arm out, keeping Vale from stepping in.

"Not you, Senator," he says. She glances at him, confusion and frustration flickering across her face. "You're staying with me. Trina. You take the rest downstairs. I'll escort the Senator."

"Are you sure?" Trina asks, her eyes moving between them.

"Yes. Get them out. Make sure everyone's accounted for. We'll take the stairs."," he replies. He gives her a nod, a silent 'thank you', and her lips twitch.

"Got it, Commander," she says. She flashes him a grin, and the lift doors slide shut, the murmur of panicked voices cutting off abruptly. And finally, they're alone.

For a moment, they're both silent. Thorn's not sure what to say, and he's not even sure where to start. But before he can speak, Vale whirls around and hits him on the shoulder, the sound of her hand smacking against the plastoid loud in the empty corridor.

"You are so full of shit," she says through clenched teeth, glaring at him. "Did you make all that up?"

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. His shoulder stings, and he rubs it, trying to soothe the pain. "It was the only way to get them to leave."

"And now everyone thinks there's a bomb in my apartment," she growls. She runs her fingers through her hair, pulling at the ends, and lets out a frustrated groan.

"I didn't say that," he argues.

"Might as well have," she huffs and rolls her eyes. She leans against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest, and she's quiet for a moment, her expression unreadable.

"Are you mad?"

"Yes," she replies, and he winces. "I'm furious."

"I'm sorry," he says again, his stomach twisting.

"No, you're not," Vale snaps. Her eyes narrow, and she lets out a heavy sigh. "So what's really going on?"

"There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine," he says as his hand settles on her shoulder. She glances at it, and he pulls away, tucking his hand behind his back. "I just—I wanted you to myself. For a little while. You were so sad earlier, and I just...I wanted to make you feel better. And Trina suggested that we fake an emergency, and I—"

"Trina suggested this?"

He nods.

"And you went along with it?"

He nods again.

"You two are terrible," she says, letting out a disbelieving laugh. She shakes her head, a grin spreading across her face, and Thorn's shoulders sag with relief. "Kriff, I can't believe you did this. And for what? Just so you could have me to yourself?"

"Well, yeah," he mumbles, his cheeks heating up. He looks away, unable to meet her gaze, and a lump forms in his throat. "And so you could have a night off. You seemed really tired. And stressed. And I just...I didn't want you to be miserable anymore."

She's silent for a long moment, and he feels his heart start to pound. This was a mistake. This was a terrible, stupid, ridiculous idea, and now he's going to get his ass handed to him by both Vale and the Chancellor, and—

"Thorn," she whispers, her voice gentle, and the sound of his name on her lips makes him melt. She moves closer, and her hand comes up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the lip of his armor. "I...no one's ever done anything like this for me before."

"What, intimidate a bunch of people? Yeah, well, I'm a cop. It's kind of my job," he replies, trying to keep his tone light, and she laughs, her forehead resting against his chest plate.

"That's not what I mean," she says. Vale lifts her head, looking up at him. "Just, I don't know. Taking care of me. Putting me first. Making sure I'm okay. No one's ever done that before. Not like this. Not without expecting anything in return."

"Oh," he breathes, his chest tightening. He doesn't know what to say. All he knows is that the idea of someone not caring for her, not loving her, makes him sick. She deserves more than this. More than what he can give her. But he'll try, if she'll let him. "That's..."

"Stupid?" she asks, glancing up at him. "I know."

"No, not stupid. Just sad," he says, his hand moving to her cheek. Her eyes close, and she lets out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. "You deserve better. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, well, you're the first person to think so," she replies, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "At least in a long time."

"Well, I think so," Thorn says. "I don't know how anyone could see you and not want to take care of you."

"Stop," she murmurs, her cheeks turning pink.

"Why? It's true," he tells her, and her blush deepens. He tugs his helmet off and lets it fall to the ground, his hands moving to cradle her face. Her eyes open, and his breath catches at the pain and uncertainty and loneliness reflected there. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "I think you deserve everything."

She laughs, a soft, broken sound that makes his chest ache, and she pulls away, her hand moving to her mouth as she wipes away a stray tear.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm just...really tired."

"Yeah, I bet," he says. His thumb brushes over her cheekbone, wiping away another tear. "How about you go take a bath or something? Get comfortable. And I'll, uh, clean up."

"What?" she says, blinking.

"Yeah, I'll clean up," he says, and she looks at him, her brow furrowing. "You know. Do some dishes. Wipe down the counters. Take out the trash. Stuff like that. It'll give you some time to decompress."

"Are you...are you offering to do my chores for me?" she asks, disbelief coloring her words.

"Uh, yes? Yes. That's exactly what I'm offering," he says. She shakes her head, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping her, and he frowns. "What? Do you not want me to?"

"I just can't believe this," she mutters.

"Can't believe what?"

"That you're offering to do chores for me. That you're being sweet and generous and thoughtful and just...you," she says, and Thorn feels his heart skip a beat. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I like you. Because I want you to be happy,” he replies, his voice soft. He presses another kiss to her forehead, and then her cheek, and then her temple, his lips trailing down her jaw. She lets out a soft noise, her eyes fluttering shut, and his hand slides from her cheek to the back of her neck, holding her in place. "You deserve to be taken care of. And I want to be the one to do it. If you'll let me."

Vale swallows, her mouth opening and closing, and a flush creeps up her neck and over her cheeks. Thorn smiles and presses another soft kiss to her lips, his thumb brushing her cheek. Her hands move to his chest, her fingers curling into his armor, and he wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

“I care about you. A lot,” he continues. He leans in, his forehead resting against hers. "And I just...I want you to be happy. Really happy. And I want to be the one who makes you happy."

"You do?"

"Of course," he replies, his eyes fluttering shut as her hands move up his chest, settling on his shoulders. "More than anything."

Her fingers dig into his armor, and his grip tightens, his pulse racing.

"Kriff, you're gonna make me cry," she murmurs, her voice cracking. She pulls away, wiping her eyes, and Thorn lets his hands drop, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides. "Sorry, I'm just—this is a lot."

"Yeah, it is," he agrees, his stomach churning.

"I don't...I don't know what to say," she admits. Her arms wrap around herself, and her shoulders hunch, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I...shit, I'm really bad at this."

"Bad at what?"

"Talking," she says, her nose wrinkling. She lets out a quiet laugh. "Being sincere, anyway.”

"You're doing fine," he says. His hands move to her waist, holding her gently, and her gaze returns to his. "Just take your time. We've got all night."

Vale smiles, a shy, uncertain smile that makes his stomach flip.

"Okay," she whispers. She takes a deep breath, and then another, her chest rising and falling. "Just, let me try and figure this out. It's...this is new."

"Take your time, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

She leans into him, her forehead resting against his shoulder, and her arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer. His hands slide down her sides, coming to rest on her hips, and he can feel her shaking, her muscles tense under his touch. He pulls her into a hug, holding her close, and her body relaxes, her shoulders slumping as she exhales.

"I don't know if I can do this," she mumbles into his armor. "I'm not...good at being open. With anyone. Especially not with—"

"Hey," he says, his fingers brushing through her hair. "It's okay. You don't have to explain."

She nods, her cheek rubbing against his plastoid, and he feels her arms tighten around his neck.

"I just...it's scary. Thinking about letting you in. About being with you. And not just because of my job, but because..."

"Because of what?"

"Because you make me feel things. Things I haven't felt in a long time. And it's overwhelming,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. "And it scares the hell out of me."

He nods, his chin brushing against the top of her head, and he holds her closer, his lips pressed into a thin line. He understands. The feelings she's describing are the same ones that are twisting in his gut. The ones that make his chest hurt and his stomach flip. The ones that keep him up at night and haunt his dreams. The ones that make him wish things were different.

The ones that make him hope for a future together.

"I know," he says. His hand moves to the back of her head, his fingers running through her hair. He closes his eyes, and his voice drops to a murmur. "But maybe we can be scared together."

She lets out a choked laugh, her arms pulling him closer.

"Maybe we can," she says. She tilts her head back, her gaze meeting his. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes, a sadness that makes his heart ache, and she smiles, a sad, crooked smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "But it's not fair to you. You shouldn't have to put up with me. Not when I can't even commit to dating."

"Baby, come on," Thorn sighs.

"No, I'm serious. This isn't a life," she says, shaking her head. Her eyes fill with tears, and she blinks, trying to hold them back. "I can't ask you to live like this."

"You're not asking. I'm choosing," he replies. He wipes a stray tear from her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. "Look, I'm not expecting anything from you. You don't have to commit. You don't have to decide anything. And we can stop, if that's what you want. But I'm here. Right now. And I'm choosing to be here, for as long as you'll let me."

Vale sniffs, her hands moving to his chest plate, and she blinks away the last remnants of her tears, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He watches her, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her hip, and a shiver runs through her, her body trembling under his touch.

"You're really good at this," she whispers. "Talking."

"Thanks," he says, his tone playful. "It's not always my strong suit, but I think you bring out the best in me."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"Well, for one thing, you make me want to do stupid shit," he tells her, and her eyes widen. He chuckles. "And two, you make me feel like it's worth the risk. That if I have to lie and deceive and play a role, it's worth it, because at the end of the day, I get to spend time with you."

"You're crazy," she says, and he shrugs, his lips curving into a smirk.

"Maybe. But you make me crazy," he replies. He tugs her closer, his hand sliding around her waist, and her eyes flutter shut. "In a good way. The best way."

"Yeah?" she asks, her voice soft.

"Definitely," he murmurs. His hand moves to her face, cupping her cheek, and her eyes open, her gaze fixed on his. She looks tired, but there's a brightness in her expression, a warmth in her eyes, that makes his heart skip a beat.

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

"I know I'm not good at this," she says. She takes a deep breath, and then another, her fingers tapping on his chest plate. "And I know I'm not making things easy. But I want you to know that...I like spending time with you. More than anyone. And I care about you. A lot."

"That's all I need," Thorn whispers. He leans in, his lips brushing hers, and she presses up onto her toes, her hands moving to his cheeks. The kiss is soft and sweet and warm, and it makes him dizzy, his head spinning and his heart pounding. Her tongue slides over his lower lip, and he lets out a soft groan, his body responding to her touch.

Her fingers curl around his belt, bringing their bodies flush together, and he can't help but smile into the kiss, his hands sliding over her back. Her lips are still curved in a smile, and when she pulls away, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright.

“Okay, I’m convinced,” she breathes, her nose brushing against his. She licks her lips, a smirk tugging at her mouth. "We should do stupid shit more often."

"Yeah?" he murmurs against her lips. He can feel her smile grow, her teeth grazing his lip, and his hand moves down her spine, his fingers dipping below the waistband of her dress. She sucks in a sharp breath, her fingers digging into his armor, and her hips arch into his, a low groan escaping him.

"Mhm," she hums, and her tongue slips past his lips.

Vale’s arms wrap around his neck, and her legs come up, wrapping around his waist. He's caught off guard by the sudden shift in her, but he manages to keep his footing, his hands gripping her hips and urging her higher. She lets out a soft whimper, her body pressing against his, and her tongue delves deeper into his mouth, tasting him, savoring him.

He kisses her back, his hand cradling the back of her head and pulling her closer, his other hand supporting her ass. Her hips roll against his, her movements slow and deliberate, and a strangled moan escapes him. His cock is straining against his codpiece, aching for her touch, and he can't help but buck his hips into hers, desperate for some kind of release.

"Vale," he murmurs against her lips, trying to keep his voice steady. He breaks away from the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, and lets out a shaky breath. "Not that I don't want to, but you're exhausted. I'm not going to—"

"I'm fine," she pants. She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and then his cheek, and then his jaw, her lips dragging along his skin. "Just shut up and kiss me."

"Easy, sweetheart," he groans, and she lets out a low chuckle. Her tongue glides along his neck, and his cock throbs, his mind going blank.

"No," she whispers. Her teeth graze his throat, and he lets out a gasp. "Fuck me."

"You're—"

"Yes, I'm sure," she says, and his eyes snap open, his gaze meeting hers. “I want you. I’ve been wanting you all night. And if you don't do something about it, I'm going to go insane."

"Yeah?" he grunts, his heart pounding.

"Mhm," she hums, and her teeth sink into his skin, sucking a mark onto his neck. "Come on. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Inside. Upstairs. My room," she says, her mouth still moving against his neck. He can feel her smile, her lips curving up against his skin, and her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly. "I want to show you my bed.”

Thorn lets out a choked laugh. "Is that right?"

"Yep," she replies, pulling back and looking at him. Her eyes are dark and intense, and he swallows hard. "You did promise me everything, didn't you?"

"I did," he admits, his pulse racing.

"Good," she murmurs. She shifts her weight, her hips grinding against his, and his cock twitches. “And I intend to collect."

He stares at her, his eyes wide. He's not sure what to say. But when her lips curl into a grin, a devious, knowing smile, he knows he's lost.

"Okay. Yeah. Your room," he croaks, and he clears his throat. He shifts her weight, one arm curling under her ass to hold her steady. He takes a deep breath and bends his knees, scooping up his helmet with his free hand. "Let's go."

Vale lets out a soft laugh, her arms tightening around his neck, and he makes his way down the hall, towards the front door of the apartment.

The trip to her room seems to take forever. Every step is an effort, and his armor feels heavier than ever. He can't get there fast enough, and she's making it impossible. Her fingers are tangled in his hair, and her lips are pressed against his neck, and she keeps whispering all the things she's going to do to him. And all he can do is hold on and pray he doesn't drop her.

"You're gonna make me trip on the stairs, sweetheart," he growls as her hips rock against his, the motion torturously slow.

"Then hurry up," she murmurs, her mouth moving along his jaw.

"You're making it very difficult," he says. He stops, pausing on the landing, and turns his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "Hold on. I'm gonna put my helmet back on. So you'll stop distracting me."

"Aw," she says, pouting.

"Trust me, it's for the best," he mutters. He holds her with one arm, balancing her as she sits on his forearm, and pulls his helmet on, securing it to his head.

It helps. Slightly. But she pulls down the collar of his blacks and resumes kissing him, her tongue tracing along the column of his neck, and he stumbles. He barely manages to stay upright, and her laughter fills the air, the sound echoing off the walls.

"I'm going to drop you," he warns.

"No, you won't," she purrs, and her teeth nip at his skin, her tongue soothing the bite

"I might," he mutters, taking the steps two at a time.

Thorn makes it up the last flight of stairs without incident, and Vale points the way, guiding him down the hall. She's still kissing him, still touching him, and he can't stop the groan that slips past his lips as they pass a mirror, the sight of her on his arm nearly overwhelming him.

Finally after what seems like an eternity, they reach the door, and he shoves his way through, stumbling into her bedroom. Vale hits the control panel, and the lights turn on, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow.

He can’t help the noise of surprise that escapes him as he looks around the room. Compared to the rest of the apartment, with its pristine white walls and elegant furniture, Vale's bedroom is almost jarring. It's a mix of different jewel-toned colors and textures, and the effect is both chaotic and calming. There are paintings and sculptures lining the walls, and an enormous bed sits in the middle of the room, piled high with blankets and pillows.

It’s also a mess, with clothes draped over a velvet armchair in the corner and stacks of books and datapads piled haphazardly on the nightstands. And the sight of it makes him smile.

"It's a bit much, isn't it?"

"What? No, it's amazing," he says, and he means it. It's a perfect reflection of her, the real her that he’s come to know over the last few months, and the sight of it fills him with warmth. "I love it."

He doesn't get a chance to look around further. Vale is pulling at his helmet, trying to remove it, and he obliges, setting her down on the floor before pulling it off. She takes it from him and tosses it onto the nearby chair, and then her lips are on his, her hands tugging at the front of his chest plate.

"Off. Now," she mumbles against his mouth, and he nods, his fingers fumbling with the buckles and straps. She pushes his hands away, and he lets her work, watching her deftly unclasp each buckle. “There’s too many damn latches on this thing. Who designs these uniforms anyway?"

“You’ll have to take that one up with the Kaminoans,” he says, pulling off his gloves as she frees his pauldron from his shoulder and lets it drop to the floor.

“Maybe I will,” she grumbles, and she presses a quick kiss to his lips before kneeling down in front of him. “Senator Burtoni has some serious explaining to do."

Her hands run down his thighs and back up again, her fingers brushing the bulge of his codpiece, and a soft noise escapes him, his head spinning. She smiles, her tongue running over her lower lip, and her gaze meets his as she works at his belt, undoing the buckle.

“Please don’t talk about Senator Burtoni right now," he groans as his belt falls to the floor.

"Right," she laughs. "Sorry. I got a little distracted."

"S’okay," he says, his voice rough. He's never seen anything more arousing than the sight of her on her knees in front of him. Her dress has ridden up her thighs, exposing a long expanse of creamy tan skin, and her fingers are hooked in his belt loops, tugging his body closer. From where he stands, he can see down the front of her dress, and the swell of her breasts, pushed up and spilling out of the top of her bodice, is almost too much.

Her eyes meet his as she slides his codpiece off and sets it next to her, and the hungry look on her face makes his blood run hot. She doesn't break eye contact, her gaze fixed on him, and his hands curl into fists at his sides as she leans forward and mouths at the outline of his cock, her tongue tracing the rigid line through the fabric of his blacks.

"Fuck," he breathes. Her eyes flutter shut as her mouth moves lower, her teeth grazing the thick length of his shaft, and his hips jerk involuntarily, a low moan rumbling in his chest. "Don't do that. You're gonna make me come."

She pauses and pulls back, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Already? We're just getting started," she teases, and her fingers wrap around his ankles, pushing his boots off. "Take your greaves off."

He does as he's told, tugging off his leg armor and tossing it aside, and her hands move up his calves, over his knees and up his thighs, her fingers trailing along the muscles beneath the tight material. His breath catches in his throat as her fingers trace the outline of his cock once more, her thumb brushing over the head. A wet spot is spreading across the front of his blacks, the tip of his cock leaking and straining against the fabric, and she leans in and presses a kiss to the damp material, her tongue teasing his aching shaft.

His head spins and his legs shake, and he knows that if he doesn't sit down soon, he's going to fall. He looks around, trying to find somewhere to rest, but her hands are already pulling at the waistband of his blacks, sliding them over his hips and down his thighs, and his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach.

"Oh," she murmurs, her lips curving into a smirk, and her eyes flick up to meet his, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. "You weren't kidding."

"Nope," he groans.

Her thumb brushes over the slit, spreading the precum leaking from the head, and he bites back a groan, his hands clutching the bedpost. She leans in and presses a kiss to the base of his shaft, and his hips jerk forward, the soft brush of her lips and her warm breath sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. There’s a faint red mark left behind, the remnants of her lipstick smudged on his skin, and the sight of it is almost enough to send him over the edge.

Her tongue traces the vein running up the underside of his cock and swirls around the head before flicking over the sensitive skin of his slit. His grip on the bedpost tightens, his knuckles turning white, and a strangled moan escapes him, his body tensing.

She looks up at him as her lips close around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling lazily, and his hips jerk forward, thrusting deeper into her mouth. She gags and pulls back, a soft moan escaping her as her hand strokes his shaft, her tongue tracing the vein.

"I'm sorry," he pants. "I didn't mean—"

"Don't apologize," she says, shaking her head. "I liked it. I just wasn't expecting it."

She smiles and takes him in her mouth once more, her hand gripping the base of his cock. She works him slowly, taking him deeper with each bob of her head until he's buried in her throat, her lips wrapped tightly around him. Her tongue drags over the underside of his shaft, the tip tracing along the vein, and she swallows, her throat working around the head.

"Fuck," he groans, his head falling back. "Your mouth..."

She moans, the sound muffled by his cock, and his hips thrust forward, his eyes fluttering shut. He can feel her fingers dig into his thigh as her other hand moves between his legs, cupping his balls and rolling them gently in her palm. His eyes open, his gaze focused on her, and she stares up at him as her lips move along his shaft, her cheeks hollowed out.

“Vale, I’m gonna—fuck, you need to stop," he gasps. His cock twitches, and a fresh wave of precum leaks from the tip, coating her tongue. "I can't—it's too much."

She lets out another moan and swallows around the head of his cock, her eyes never leaving his. He's close, the tension building in his stomach and the tightness in his balls telling him that he won't last much longer, and he tries to pull away, his hands moving to her shoulders.

"Come on," she whispers, pulling off him with a wet pop. She licks her lips and strokes him, her hand twisting and gliding up and down his shaft. "Don't fight it. Let go."

"Fuck," he breathes, his grip on her shoulders tightening.

"You deserve this," she says. Her thumb runs over the tip of his cock, gathering the precum that's leaked out and spreading it along the length of his shaft. "Don't hold back. Give me what I want."

"But—"

"I've been waiting all night," she murmurs, and her hand speeds up, her fingers squeezing him tighter. He can’t help but groan, his hips bucking forward, his cock thrusting through the tight ring of her fist. "Please."

The plea is his undoing. He can't deny her anything, and the sight of her on her knees, begging him to come, is too much. His cock twitches, and a strangled moan escapes him, the sound echoing off the walls as his orgasm washes over him in a wave of heat and pleasure and relief. His head falls back, and his eyes squeeze shut, his hips jerking and thrusting wildly as his cock pulses, spilling onto her hand and the front of her dress.

For a moment, all he can do is stand there and pant, his heart racing and his pulse pounding. He's dimly aware of the feeling of her hand on his cock, milking him through his orgasm, and her other hand, gently squeezing his balls, but he can't seem to focus on anything else. All he can do is stand there, trying to catch his breath, his mind reeling from the intensity of his release.

Finally, his eyes open, and he looks down, his heart skipping a beat at the sight before him.

She's looking up at him, her face flushed and her lips curved into a sly smile, and his cum is dripping from her chin and the front of her dress, splattered across her chest. She looks like a goddess, and it takes everything he has not to drop to his knees and worship her.

"Kriff," he mutters, his voice hoarse. He offers her his hand, and she takes it, rising gracefully to her feet. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah," he croaks. He glances down, taking in the mess, and his cheeks flush. "I didn't mean to—I got your dress."

"Don't worry about it," she says, grinning. She holds her hand up, examining the sticky strands of his release covering her fingers. "It'll come out. Besides, I wanted you to."

"You did?"

"Mhm," she replies. Her tongue darts out, and she licks a stripe across her palm, gathering his release on her tongue. "I like the way you taste."

"Fuck," he hisses. He can't look away, his eyes locked on her mouth as she sucks her finger into her mouth and licks it clean, her tongue sliding over her knuckles. She makes a show of it, her tongue swirling and licking, and he can't take his eyes off her. It's obscene, and filthy, and kriffing perfect, and it makes his stomach flip and his spent cock twitch.

She pulls her fingers from her mouth, and a strand of saliva stretches between them. He leans in, catching her lips with his and tasting himself on her tongue. The kiss is heated and messy and desperate, and his hand moves to her neck, holding her in place as he plunders her mouth.

"So good," he murmurs against her lips. His fingers slide through her hair, and he cups the back of her head, kissing her deeply. "You're amazing. And perfect. And kriffing incredible."

She smiles, her nose wrinkling, and she pulls away, a small, amused sound escaping her. "That's the orgasm talking."

"No, it's not," he says. He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering on her skin. "I mean it."

"Well, in that case," she murmurs, and she pulls away, her lips curled into a playful smile. "How long do you need?"

"Not long," he says. He glances down at his cock, still half-hard, and grins. "You have that effect on me."

"Good. I need to get out of this dress," she replies, and she steps back, her fingers pulling at the sash around her waist. “And take this kriffing makeup off. I feel like a clown."

"I liked it. It was pretty," he says, and she rolls her eyes, untying the belt. He moves closer to her as it falls to the floor, his hand sliding up her back to find the zipper on the side of her dress. “Especially the lipstick."

"Oh yeah?" she breathes, her head tilting back. He pulls the zipper down, the dress parting to reveal her soft, brown skin, and he presses a soft kiss to her shoulder, his tongue darting out to taste her.

"Mhm," he hums. His lips trail along her shoulder and down her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin. "The red really suits you."

She smiles, a breathless laugh escaping her, and his hand slides under the dress, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it pool at her feet. He finds the clasp of her bra and unclips it, his fingers tracing over the straps and sliding them down her arms.

"Thanks," she whispers.

The bra joins the growing pile of clothes, and he steps back, his eyes moving greedily over her naked body. He's seen her like this before, in the dark, when her body was hidden by the shadows, and once in the moonlight of her quarters on Atrisia. But seeing her here, in her own space, where she's most comfortable, is something else entirely.

Her skin is lighter than his, a warm brown that's several shades darker than her hair, and her nipples are a dusky rose, hardening under his gaze. Her body is toned, her muscles firm and defined, but she's soft too, with wide hips and plush thighs, and the sight of her is almost as overwhelming as the first time.

He wants to kiss her. Everywhere. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head. He wants to worship her. He wants to show her what it's like to be cared for, and loved, and cherished. He wants to show her how special she is, and how worthy she is, and how deserving she is of all the good things in the galaxy.

He wants to make her his.

"Vale, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Thorn whispers.

Her cheeks turn pink, and she smiles, the shy expression making his heart ache.

"Thank you," she says. She turns and moves towards the refresher, and he watches her, his eyes tracing the curves of her body. Her ass is perfect, round and firm and full, and his hand itches to touch her, to run his fingers over her skin and sink into her flesh. She glances at him over her shoulder, and a smirk tugs at her lips. "Just give me a second, and then I'm all yours."

"Okay," he says, his voice thick with desire. He clears his throat and shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "You want a drink? While you get ready?"

"Sure. There's some whiskey and glasses in the cabinet," she calls over her shoulder. She disappears through the doorway, and he lets out a breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

He can't believe this is happening. It seems surreal. He feels like he's dreaming, like any moment, he'll wake up and she'll be gone, and he'll be alone in his bunk. But this is real. This is happening. And the knowledge makes his head spin.

His legs shake as he crosses the room, his feet nearly tangling in her discarded dress, and he stoops down, picking it up. He folds it carefully and sets it on the nearby dresser before moving towards the cabinet she mentioned, his gaze sweeping over the room.

There are shelves lining the walls, filled with books and knick-knacks and art. Some of the items are familiar, at least one painting that must be from the same artist as the one in her office, and a few of the sculptures remind him of the ones that he saw on her desk. But there's so much more. So many little pieces of her, little pieces of her life, spread out before him.

It's strange. Standing in her room, surrounded by her things, feels oddly intimate. Like he's peeking into a secret world. A private space, where she's allowed only the people she trusts. And now he's a part of it.

He can't help but notice there are no pictures. No images of her family, or friends, or former lovers. Just the artwork, and the sculptures, and the books, and the little trinkets that he's not even sure the purpose of. It's as if the rest of the galaxy, everyone she's ever known, doesn't exist. Or doesn't matter.

And maybe it doesn't. Maybe this is enough. Maybe he's enough.

Thorn shakes his head and turns his attention to the cabinet. It's a small, ornate piece of furniture, carved from a dark wood and polished to a shine. He opens it and reaches inside, his hand closing around a glass decanter filled with amber liquid. Two crystal glasses, etched with elaborate patterns, are tucked in beside it.

He takes the bottle and the glasses and crosses the room, stepping into the refresher. The room is large, easily twice the size of his own, and it's just as impressive, with white marble tiles and dark wooden cabinets and a sunken tub big enough for three people. It's as messy as the rest of her room, with hair products and creams and powders littering the counter, and the sight of it makes him smile.

"Whiskey, huh? This any good?" he asks. He sets the glasses and bottle on the counter, next to a collection of various beauty products, and grabs the edge, hauling himself up.

Vale glances at him out of the corner of her eye, a washcloth pressed to her cheek. His gaze travels down her body, drinking her in, and his mouth goes dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"Uh, I think so," she says, and his eyes snap back to her face. She tosses the cloth into the sink, and turns, her eyebrow raising. "Why? Don't tell me you don't drink, Commander."

"No, no, I do," he replies, pouring a healthy amount of whiskey into each glass. He picks up one of the glasses, holding it out to her, and she smiles, crossing the room to accept it. "I just don't know much about the expensive stuff. I tend to stick with the swill they give us for free at 79s."

"Fair enough," she says, and her hand brushes his as she takes the glass, the simple touch sending a spark of electricity up his arm. "This is a gift from Senator Paulness. It's the kind of thing you get if you can't decide what to get someone."

"Not a fan?"

"Not particularly," she says, a grimace spreading across her face. "But I can't complain. Free alcohol is free alcohol."

"Cheers to that," he says. He lifts his glass and clinks it against hers, and then takes a sip.

The whiskey burns, but it's good. Smooth, with a hint of caramel, and a warmth spreads through him, his muscles relaxing. It's not his usual drink, but it's not bad. And as long as it's free, and Vale is next to him, naked, he's not going to say no.

He watches in fascination as she drinks from her glass and sets it aside before beginning to remove her jewelry. Her earrings come off one by one, followed by the bangles and rings on her wrists and fingers, and she places each piece carefully into a velvet box sitting open on the counter.

It's such a simple thing, watching her get ready for bed, and he doesn't want it to end. He likes seeing her like this, her guard down, her expression soft and open. He likes the intimacy of it. The quiet. The trust.

"How's the drink?" she asks, reaching behind her neck to unhook her necklace.

"It's good," he replies. He takes another sip, letting the liquid coat his tongue, and a pleasant warmth settles in his stomach. "Really good."

"Mm. Glad to hear it," she hums. Her fingers fumble with the clasp, and her brow furrows. "Shit. This thing is always getting stuck."

"Want some help?" he asks, setting his glass on the counter.

"No, it's fine. I've got it," she says, her gaze returning to the mirror. She tries again, her fingers tugging at the ends of the chain, but the clasp doesn't budge, and she lets out a quiet huff of frustration.

"Here, let me," he says, and he moves behind her, his hand brushing against hers. She sighs and drops her hands, and he takes the ends of the necklace, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp. "There. Easy."

"Thanks," she mumbles.

"Of course," he replies as he drops the necklace into the box with the rest of her jewelry. He places a kiss on the back of her neck before he begins to remove the pins from her hair. "What are boyfriends for?"

Vale lets out a small, strangled noise, and his heart skips a beat, his hand freezing in her hair. He hadn't meant to say that. The word slipped out, and now he's wondering if he's made a mistake. If it's too much.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have—it just came out," he stammers, and she lets out a low laugh, the sound washing over him like a wave.

"No, no, it's okay. It's good," she says. She shakes her head, and her eyes meet his in the mirror. They're wide and bright, and her lips are curled into a soft smile, her cheeks flushed. "I like it. It sounds...right."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yeah," she says, and her gaze returns to the mirror, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. "Boyfriend."

She says the word quietly, like she's testing it out, and his heart flutters, a warmth spreading through him. It does sound right, and he's surprised by how good it feels. How natural. Like it's supposed to be. Like it's meant to be.

"Well, good," he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the back of her neck. "Because you're my girlfriend."

"Good," she replies, her voice soft.

His hands move slowly, pulling out the pins and combs and other ornaments holding her hair in place, and she lets out a contented sigh, her eyes closing. He's not sure why, but there's something about the intimacy of the moment that's making his chest tight. Something about the way she's leaning against him. About the fact that she's allowing him to be here, in this moment.

It's not sexual. It's not passionate. It's not even particularly romantic. It's just a small, simple thing. A quiet, tender moment, between two people who care about each other. And it means more than anything.

"There. That's the last one," he says, dropping the last pin into the box. He runs his fingers through her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "All done."

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"No problem, sweetheart," he replies.

He pulls back, and she opens her eyes, her gaze meeting his in the mirror. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling, and he watches her, his hands settling on her waist.

"I'm really glad you're here," she says. Her eyes flutter shut, and her head falls back, resting against his chest. "And not just because I'm drunk, and horny, and have had the worst day ever."

"Oh yeah?" he asks, his fingers tracing idle patterns along her hips.

"Yeah," she whispers, her eyes opening once more. "I missed you. All week."

"Me too," he murmurs, and his hand slides up her back, coming to rest on her shoulder. He kneads the muscles there, working the knots out of her skin, and a small moan escapes her, her body relaxing into his.

"I didn't really have a plan for tonight," she admits, her voice barely audible. "I mean, I knew the dinner would be awful. But I wasn't sure about what would happen after. I didn't know if you'd want to stay, or—"

"Why wouldn't I want to stay?" Thorn asks. He pauses, his thumbs digging into a particularly tense muscle, and a strangled groan slips past her lips.

"Because it's late. And I'm a mess. And you have work tomorrow," she mumbles, her cheeks flushing. "I just...didn't want you to feel obligated or anything."

"Obligated," he repeats as his hands still, and she winces.

"Yes. Obligated. To sleep with me," she says. She looks away, her gaze dropping, and a nervous laugh escapes her. "Gods, it sounds even more stupid when I say it out loud. But it's just...I didn't want you to think that—"

"That you're just using me for sex?"

"Yes," Vale mutters, and she runs her hand through her hair. "Or that I expect sex, or anything else, from you. You're more than just a warm body to me. I hope you know that."

"I do. Of course, I do," he says, his hands settling on her waist. His thumbs rub soothing circles over her skin, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. "And for the record, I would love to stay. If you'll have me."

"I want you to," she breathes. She leans back against him, and his arms wrap around her, his nose nuzzling the crook of her neck.

"I'm glad. Because I want to stay," he murmurs. "With you. In your bed. Where we can cuddle and fall asleep together. Where I can wake up with you in my arms."

She lets out a quiet groan. "You're gonna make me cry, saying things like that."

"Good tears?"

"Yes," she says, smiling. Her hand finds his, and their fingers lace together. "The best."

Thorn smiles, his mouth pressing against her neck, and his tongue traces a line up to her ear. Her eyes flutter shut, her hair falling around her face as his teeth sink into her skin. He watches their reflection in the mirror, the image of them wrapped around each other making his heart skip. He can't help but marvel at how perfectly they fit together, how natural it feels to have her in his arms, his mouth on her skin.

He wonders how he ever thought this would be a bad idea. How he could ever have resisted the temptation of her. Because being with her, holding her, feeling her against him, is the best thing he's ever felt. And he doesn't know how he's going to be able to leave.

"Come on, baby. Let's go to bed," he whispers.

Vale nods, her eyes still closed.

He pulls away, and she turns towards him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. She tilts her head back, her gaze fixed on his, and her fingers trail over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His arms come up, wrapping around her, and he cups her cheek, his thumb running over the curve of her bottom lip.

She leans into his touch, her lips parting, and her tongue darts out and brushes over his finger. She pulls it into her mouth, sucking lightly, and he bites back a groan, his cock twitching. His fingers curl under her chin, and his other hand comes up, sliding through her hair before his mouth descends on hers.

The kiss is soft and slow, a gentle exploration. Their tongues slide together, the taste of the whiskey lingering on her tongue, and his heart pounds in his chest. He doesn't know what it is about her, but everything about her makes him feel alive. The way her tongue swirls over his. The way her teeth scrape over his lower lip. The way her hands grip his shoulders. It’s all so good. And it’s all so worth it.

"Come on," he murmurs against her lips. His hands slide down her back, and he grabs her ass, lifting her off the ground. She lets out a soft moan as her legs wrap around his waist, her arms draping over his shoulders, and he grins. "Time for bed."

She giggles, the sound sending a shiver up his spine, and he carries her out of the refresher, crossing the room to the massive bed that dominates the center of the space. He sets her down on the mattress and climbs up after her, his mouth returning to hers. She rolls onto her back, pulling him on top of her, and his hips slot between her thighs, his cock pressing against her warm, wet heat.

"Fuck," he groans as his erection slides along her slit, his tip catching on her entrance. His hands find her hips, and he rocks forward, teasing her. "You're so wet. Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she gasps. Her head falls back, exposing her neck, and his mouth closes over her pulse, his teeth scraping over her skin. "It's all for you."

"Good," he growls. His tongue slides over the spot, and he sucks, pulling the flesh between his teeth and marking her. He knows it's possessive. Needy. And he doesn't care. "You're mine."

"Yours," she breathes.

"That's right," he murmurs against her neck. He trails his lips up to her jaw and then her cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. His fingers grip her hip as his other hand moves up her side, brushing the underside of her breast before moving higher. "Every inch of you."

She whimpers, her hands clutching at his back. His thumb rubs over her nipple, and she arches into him, her back curving, her hips rocking against his. He grinds into her, his cock sliding between her slick folds, and his mouth moves lower, trailing kisses down her neck and across her chest. His tongue drags over her collarbone before dipping between the valley of her breasts.

"Thorn," she whines, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"What?"

"Don't tease," she pants. Her hands come up and bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer.

"No? You don't want me to tease you?" he asks, and his mouth moves lower, his tongue tracing over the swell of her breast. "You don't want me to take my time and show you how much I appreciate every part of your body? How amazing you are?"

"Later," she groans. "Right now, I need you inside me. Please."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, his mouth moving lower to suck a nipple in his mouth before releasing it with a wet pop. "Anything for my girlfriend."

"I'll remember you said that," she murmurs as her back arches, her hips thrusting up, trying to find him. "I'll hold you to it."

"You can," he promises. His hand slides up her thigh and over her stomach before coming to rest between her legs, his thumb rubbing over her clit. She lets out a muffled cry, her eyes squeezing shut, and her head falls back, her chest heaving. "You can get it in writing, if you want.”

She laughs softly and then lets out a low moan as his thumb moves lower and slides between her folds, gathering her wetness. He lifts his hand to his mouth and sucks her juices off his fingers before wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"I want to hear you," he murmurs against her lips. His hand moves between them, lining his cock up with her entrance, and she lets out a desperate, needy sound. "I want to feel you. All of you."

"Please," she whispers.

Her fingers curl in his hair, and he captures her mouth, kissing her deeply. His hips rock forward, pushing his cock into her tight, wet heat, and they moan into each other's mouths, their bodies molding together.

He moves slowly at first, his hips moving languidly, taking his time and savoring every sensation. Every slide of her walls. Every flutter of her muscles. Every little noise she makes. He commits it all to memory, knowing he's never going to forget a single moment of this.

Vale breaks the kiss and gasps, her hips rocking up to meet his thrusts. Her arms wrap around his neck, her hands cradling his head, and she pulls him down, her forehead pressing against his. Their eyes meet, and the intensity of her gaze makes his head spin, the desire he sees reflected there taking his breath away.

"Look at you," he breathes, his hips snapping against hers. "Kriffing perfect."

"So are you," she says. Her mouth opens, a desperate moan escaping her, and he picks up the pace, his thrusts growing deeper and harder, his balls slapping against her ass. "Thorn—kriff, you're so good. So fucking good."

"You too, sweetheart," he murmurs, and he presses a quick kiss to her mouth. His hands slide under her hips, gripping her ass and lifting her off the bed as he rises up onto his knees, her legs wrapping around his waist. "I've missed you so much.”

"Me too," she whimpers, her head falling back as she props herself up on her elbows. "I've missed having you inside me."

The confession has him thrusting faster, his hips pistoning, and her back curves, her body moving to meet his every thrust. The sounds of their coupling fill the room, the slap of their bodies echoing off the walls, and his hands grip her ass, spreading her wide.

His eyes move down her body and between them, his gaze locked on where they're joined, and his hips stutter, a choked moan escaping him. She's soaking wet, his cock shining with her arousal as he pounds into her, sliding easily in and out of her tight heat. Her slick is smeared across her inner thighs and dripping onto the sheets, and the sight of her glistening folds and his thick shaft stretching her open makes his cock throb.

"Gods, look at you," he pants, his gaze traveling up her body, admiring the view. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, her nipples hard and pink, and her face is flushed, her mouth hanging open, her lips swollen and wet. She looks like a goddess, her dark hair spread out on the pillow, and the sight of her nearly sends him over the edge. "You're a goddess."

She smiles and moans as her head falls back once more, her legs tightening around his waist.

"Keep talking," she gasps, her hips rolling up to meet his. "Please."

"You like that?" he growls. He fucks her harder, his fingers digging into her flesh, and his hands squeeze her ass, pulling her closer. "You like when I tell you how perfect you are? How good you feel? How much I want to fuck you until you can't walk straight?"

"Yes," she hisses, her body shaking.

"And how I want to wake up with my cock buried deep inside you?" he continues. He reaches between them and finds her clit, his thumb rubbing quick, firm circles around it, and her eyes roll back, a strangled groan slipping past her lips. "How I want to spend every night like this, filling you up? How I want to come home to you every night and worship you?"

"Oh fuck," she groans. Her back arches, and her head presses against the pillow, her hips rocking wildly, matching his thrusts. Her body is trembling, her thighs quivering, and her chest heaves, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I'm gonna—Thorn, I'm so close. Please."

"Let go," he orders. He leans over her, his hips slamming against hers, and her eyes fly open, locking on his. He can feel her tense, her body coiling tightly, and her muscles clench around him, sucking him deeper and pulling a groan from his lips. "Come for me."

"Thorn," she cries out as her orgasm slams into her. Her body spasms and shakes, her mouth opening in a silent scream. He fucks her through it, driving deep into her clenching channel and stroking her through her release, his thumb never leaving her clit. She whines and squirms under him, her body trembling and her pussy clenching around his cock.

"That's it, sweetheart. So good," he murmurs.

She's soaked, her arousal leaking from her and coating his thighs, and he can feel her clench around him. Her hips grind against his, her back arching off the bed as she chases her pleasure, and he groans, his thrusts speeding up, his own orgasm building. He's not going to last much longer. He can feel it. His balls are heavy and tight, his cock pulsing, and the familiar tension is starting to build, coiling tighter and tighter.

"Please, please," she pants. Her hands claw at his back, her nails raking over his skin. Her head falls to the side, her mouth opening in a quiet, desperate whimper, and her hips lift, her body seeking more, always more. "More."

"You want more?" he growls, his hips snapping forward. His pace is frantic, his movements rough and hard and fast, and she lets out a strangled cry, her eyes squeezing shut. "You're greedy."

“For you,” she gasps, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

He groans and shifts his weight, bearing down on her until her hips are pinned beneath him and his body is flush against hers. Her legs tighten around his waist, her ankles digging into his lower back, and his thrusts slow, each one deliberate and deep. Her breath hitches every time he bottoms out inside her, and her hips rock up, grinding against him, trying to draw him in deeper, her body craving his.

"Oh fuck, Thorn," she whimpers, her back arching, her chest pressing against his. Her body tenses, her muscles straining, and her head tips back, her mouth hanging open in a silent cry. "Please."

"What do you want?" he asks. He's close, the tension coiled in his belly ready to snap, but he’s determined to feel her come around him one more time before he loses himself in her. He wants her pleasure more than his own, and he knows it won't take much. She's already halfway there.

"You," she whines, and her head falls back, her eyes squeezing shut. "Kriff, please. Please, please—"

"Please what?"

"Come inside me," she gasps, and his hips stutter, a strangled moan ripping from his throat. Her muscles clench, her body pulling him deeper, and she's so wet, her pussy slick with her arousal, that his thrusts are loud and obscene. "Fill me up. Claim me."

"Fuck," he groans. His head drops forward and his mouth finds hers, his lips slanting over hers in a searing kiss. He can't resist her anymore, his body giving in to his own desires, and his hips snap forward, his thrusts speeding up, his movements turning frantic. "So fucking good. Mine."

"Yours," she gasps against his mouth.

He can feel her shudder beneath him as her orgasm hits her again, her muscles tightening around him, and the pressure that had been building finally snaps. He lets out a loud groan, and his release hits him like a wave, crashing over him and leaving him breathless. He grinds into her on one final thrust, pushing his cock as deep inside her as he can, and his hips jerk forward, his body shuddering as his cum spills into her, filling her completely.

"Fuck, Vale," he moans, his lips pressed against her neck. He can't seem to stop himself from grinding into her, his cock twitching and jerking as his release coats her insides and leaks out around him, staining the sheets. She feels incredible. So warm and wet and soft and perfect. He doesn't want it to end.

"Thorn," she whimpers. Her legs tighten around his waist as her body pulses around him, drawing every last drop from him, and her fingers clutch at his back, her nails digging into his skin. "Kriff, you feel so good."

"You're perfect," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "Everything about you. I've missed this. I've missed you."

"Me too," she gasps.

Her hands grip his shoulders, holding him close, and he lets his weight rest on her, his head resting against her shoulder, his forehead pressed to her neck. She smells like her usual perfume and the flowery soap she uses and something that's uniquely her. Something sweet and earthy and warm. He breathes her in, letting the scent wash over him, and his hands come up, tangling in her hair.

For a moment, all they can do is lie there, panting, their bodies entwined, trying to catch their breath. It's been a long time since he's felt like this. Completely relaxed and sated and at peace. And he never wants it to end. He wants to stay like this forever.

Eventually, he rolls over, pulling her with him and holding her close, her body resting on his chest. His hand strokes her hair and down her back, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, his heart fluttering as her breath tickles his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his fingers trailing up and down her spine before he presses his palm to her lower back and tugs her closer.

"Yeah. I'm good," she replies. Her fingers splay across his chest, and her hand slides along his skin, her nails scraping lightly over his pecs and abs. She traces a small pattern over his chest before resting her palm above his heart, her fingers curling against his skin. "Better than good, actually."

"Good," he murmurs, and a contented sigh escapes her. Her lips brush over his collarbone and her nose nuzzles his neck, her body curling into his, and a warm, comfortable feeling settles over him, making him feel lighter than he has in a long time.

“Did you mean what you said? About coming home to me every night?" she asks, her voice low.

"Yes. Absolutely," he says. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in. "If you'll have me."

"I'd like that," she says, her lips brushing his neck, her breath warm on his skin. She presses another soft kiss to his shoulder and then his collarbone before shifting slightly, resting her head against his chest. "I'd like it a lot."

"So would I," he murmurs, and she smiles, her fingers tracing idle patterns over his chest.

They lie like that for a while, just holding each other, enjoying the closeness. There's no rush. No need to hurry or get dressed and leave. There's just the two of them, tangled together, and the soft, steady rhythm of their breathing.

He's never felt this comfortable before, and the realization makes his stomach flip, his heart skipping a beat. This is different than anything else he's experienced. It's new and exciting and scary and overwhelming. And it feels right.

"So,” Vale says after a few moments, her voice soft, and she props herself up on her elbow, her head resting in her hand, her gaze meeting his. "About those boyfriend duties."

"Oh.” He blinks, and then nods, smiling up at her. “Yeah. Of course. Whatever you need.”

"I'm just kidding. Mostly," she laughs, her hand moving up his neck and cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing over his stubble. "But I believe you owe me dessert."

"Oh, I do, do I?" he asks, and she grins, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Mhm," she murmurs. Her lips brush over his before pulling back, her gaze meeting his. "Or did you forget that you chased my guests out without giving them a chance to enjoy the cake?"

"How could I forget?” he laughs. His hands slide down her back and cup her ass, giving it a light squeeze, and she squeaks, her eyes widening. Thorn grins and gives her another quick squeeze before releasing her, his hands sliding up to her hips.

"So?"

"So," he murmurs. He kisses her again, and she lets out a quiet sigh, her tongue swiping across his bottom lip. "Let's clean up and get some dessert, then."

"Dessert," she breathes, her nose bumping against his. "Then more of this."

"Senator, you have yourself a deal.”

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

#thorn x oc #commander thorn x oc #thorn x vale #oc:vale #roy writes #i proofread this and hated everything and rewrote it and decided not to proofread it again sooo #here have whatever this is

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bekaterrier · 1 month ago

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Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and being kind to yourselves. 💜

@ameliapodcast S5 Part 2: When I was talking about S5 Part 1, I didn't mention the music, which has been absolutely incredible. Changing the theme music to match the episode's theme/time period is genius, and so well done! The idea of telling their stories in reverse is so interesting, and it's really having me think about how each disappearance would have impacted the ones we heard before. I still technically have 2-3 episodes left of this part, but I just had to say something now! 🐦‍🔥

@storiesfromylelmore Episode 212 - Being Puce: Season finale time!! I always love how straight up Keryth and Rion are with Elas. We won't give you permission to bully us just so you don't feel as bad about it. Good for them! And then their background adventure with the river monster was hilarious. That was such a great conversation between Elas and their mom. I think we've all had feelings like that before. And then Elas took a small step! They said no to Voran! I'm so proud of them!! Ruvyn knowing everything from their podcast and sitting on it is kinda terrifying. I'm sad that the season's over, but it was SO GOOD, and I can't wait for the next one!! ✨

@forgedbondspod Chapter 7: Dite and Phae texting through the first of many wedding rehearsals is adorable. Also as someone planning their own wedding, multiple wedding rehearsals sounds like a nightmare... I appreciate Calliope sharing the details of Zeus' glare for us! Also I love how the respective besties are so excited that Dite and Phae are becoming friends. The sound design for the forge scene was very good. 💍

@vestaclinicpod Episode 17 - Drifter: A new species this episode, Gralli from Pluto! I burst out laughing when I heard what this episode's patient had chosen for syr name - Goggles! Too cute! I too would like to hear more about Faye's family. More Professor backstory!! Finally!! It sounds like quite the mystery...I have many thoughts (mostly silly ones) about where they might have stored their consciousness... Also a very poignant line from Faye, "When is grief ever convenient?" ⚕️

@hinaypod Episode 49.2 - Snow Village: A flashback episode to early Donner and Murphy, so of course it made me sad. They love each other so much! But they can't work (then)! They (possibly) pretend they don't remember the super deep, emotional drunken conversation they had! Ahhh! 💔

@hauntnowpod Season 1: I am loving this ghost story! It was so cool thinking back to The Narrator and realizing she was telling the story to Eulalie. I like that we heard from both Eulalie and Frankie's perspectives. The sound design was really cool, conveying so many places and feelings, and the state that Frankie was in. The acting was also fantastic; I had to stop doing dishes and hold tears in when Parker was begging Eulalie to wake up. I hope they're able to save Frankie from the house and the ghost hunters! 👻

@monkeymanproductions' Waiting For October S1 Episode 4.5 - Frederick: We got to follow Frederick as they went on an adventure trying to find their place! One of the lines at the beginning brought me immediately to tears, "I wish Yvonne had stayed. She smells like home." 😭 Ishani was very good at bringing this kitty to life, and I had a lot of fun hearing the different shenanigans Frederick was getting into. I just hope they remember their way back and forth between worlds! 🐈

#audio drama sunday #the amelia project #stories from ylelmore #forged bonds podcast #forged bonds #the vesta clinic #vestaclinicpod #hi nay #hi nay podcast #the way we haunt now #waiting for october

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monkeymanproductions · 5 months ago

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We've got another casting announcement for you today with Ishani Kanetkar as Frederick! 🐈 Frederick is just an ordinary, everyday, tortoiseshell cat of average size, who can talk and has found their way to another world. They've got some very fun scenes that we cannot wait to share with you this season!

#waiting for october #queer podcast #supernatural podcast #audio drama #monkeyman productions

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random-marvel-kid · 7 months ago

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*hugs him from behind and tucks her face into the crook of his neck* My love? May I ask you something?

@ishani-khera

*turns around and hugs her too* If it's about the girl you're talking to I ready know

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arrangedaccident · 1 year ago

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seeing as it seems pretty clear that logan won’t get a contract extension by the end of the season unless he can start finishing ahead of alex i hope he just gets wildly reckless with his racing for the rest of the season. he either pulls off a miracle with risky decision making (good drama) or costs millions in damage to a team that wasn’t going to sign him anyway (also good drama)

#im an alex fan above everything but id love to see logan lose it a little #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #logan sargeant #ishani talking

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nyxe-dragonetti · 6 months ago

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// I am sobbing. SOBBING.

Anyways, fellas, I will have rehearsals this afternoon and will be gone until nighttime. And then because I am rehearsing with minimal breaks on two instruments in two orchestras I will likely go straight to bed. Do whatever you want, but if I wake up tomorrow morning with 9032819047975409857498571904875 notifications saying "Hey look bro you missed another capital roleplaying opportunity and Bolter's dead and Laurya's breaking down and Ishani's trying to revive Bolter by sacrificing herself again" I WILL BE NO BUENO DUDE. I SWEAR I WILL HAVE ANOTHER MENTAL BREAKDOWN-

I'm talking to y'all especially @thebolter1904 @goddess-of-birds @ishani-khera but I love you have fun :)

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w0rmdahl · 10 months ago

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the ring girl — MM

gif ©: magnusedom, mkayoung, ayoedebiris

film: monkey man (2024)

synopsis: tiger's temple never had a ring girl, nor one as straightforward as their first would turn out to be. however, unbeknownst to anyone who'd interacted with her in the workplace, she was no mere ring girl — at least she wouldn't be by the end.

word count: 3.7k

featuring: kid, (oc) ishani, tiger

warnings: (it's monkey man be fr) strong language, misogynistic themes

a/n: pssst! this was originally just an outline for me (similar to 'the beginning' for ilyily) but i wanted to provide backstory b4 i posted anything else for MM! hope you enjoy :)

he remembered the first time he saw her; the black sheep with her head down as she entered the locker room of the arena, a meager woman compared to the grimy crowd of men housed inside. like a lamb in the lions' den — or tiger's temple, perhaps — eyes would begin to collect on the anomaly in the room and people started to further notice the oddities of the situation, including himself as he peeled off the signature monkey mask. without the latex obstructing his view kid could now see the substantial gashes and bruises along her skin, the determination in her eyes as she walked herself right up to his boss, jaw clenching once he'd noticed her.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

"you're tiger, is that right?"

the greasy-haired man sneered. "and who the fuck are you?"

kid would slam his locker shut from his place across the room and, though he was all ready to go and rest for the night, he'd linger around to keep an eye on tiger whilst he spoke with the willful woman peering up at him through narrowed eyes.

"you need a ring girl." she said simply — matter-of-fact. "i need a job. maybe we could work something out."

tiger's face would screw up into a look of disbelief as he glanced around the audience surrounding to see the commotion, a mixed reaction from the crowd bringing his attention back to her. he'd mirror her folded arms and cocked brow before responding half as professional and twice as patronizing, utterly unsuspecting of the girls' smile that would follow.

"we don't need a ring girl."

the dark-haired woman almost chuckled. "course you do; why do you think ring girls exist?"

tiger now actually took a moment to ponder her query — the first, not the second. the second was obvious. but that was exactly why he paused; this random girl off the street was opting to be ogled at in a bad part of town just for a job. who knows, maybe it could even bring in new audience members — but his wildest ideas more focused on the limitations of her willingness. how far would she be willing to go for money?

a cagy smile would curl the boss's bitten lips before he laughed and swiped a misplaced hair behind his ear. "you..." he trailed off and shook the deceit from his thoughts, "you've got yourself a deal, there. come back tomorrow at 4 and we'll talk details."

she'd offer a mere nod before beginning to turn, halted by tiger's voice booming off the tile flooring once more. "wait! what the fuck is your name?" the woman casted her sharp gaze over her shoulder when the pseudonym left her mouth.

"ishani."

tiger would then be abandoned to stew in his suspicion about her as she exited the same way she came, leaving the room to erupt in conversations left utterly unheard by kid who'd exited out the back door as soon as ishani was out of sight. by the time he laid down with his eyes on the ceiling fan, the occurrences of the day wholly left his mind, replaced with the abrasive memories that kept his eyes open until the sun rose. and then, just like every day, he would return to the ring once more to be beaten until the crowd was happy — the only difference being the new ring girl wearing half as many clothes as when he'd last seen her and a smile that didn't convince the monkey man one bit.

the months that followed ishani's arrival took some adjusting to get used to. matches changed, payment changed, tiger changed. at first it was just getting used to a woman being in the building — especially one dressed the way ring girls did. the other men were like starved dogs in overheard conversations that had him keeping a closer eye on them — to the point that he began noticing each and every snide comment that accused of 'not belonging' and weird notes left from a 'secret admirer' on her mirror. it was all tough to stomach even for him so he couldn't begin to imagine how she felt walking home at night.

but then it was the audience that changed. sure, she was booed here and there at the beginning in favor of the actual fighting they'd come to bet on, but after a while she started gaining traction. there were men who'd come only to cheer when she stepped into the ring with that stupid sign, eagerly waiting by the back door until her shift was over to ask for her number or who to bet on next. there was even an incident where a sold-out show for two unpopular fighters was terminated early due to the absence of life in the crowd when ishani wasn't visible, but the important detail to tiger hadn't been the lack of enthusiasm for the actual fight, it was the attention and money he made without the fight.

the locker room became a slaughterhouse by the time tiger started favoring ishani. talks of how 'desirable' she was turned into how pesky she was, perverted smooches turned into arrogant scoffs, and all the while ishani remained totally uninterested in it all. she kept her head down and did what she had to do, which often entailed skimpier outfits than typical or (objectively worse) humoring the sweaty patrons for 900 rupees an hour. either way, she continuously endured the bitter tasks put forth day by day without ever making a fuss until finally, on an evening as regular as any other, she seemed to snap.

it came after an apparently tough day when she walked into the building with her hair tied in a rat's nest at the top of her head and dark circles under her eyes to emphasize the frown creased besides her nostrils. tiger had begun calling out to her as she swung open the door to her personal storage closet and, without uttering a word, slammed the door shut behind her. the peeved man would then look around to see if anyone else had witnessed this variation in her demeanor, naive to the eyes behind the monkey mask watching his every move under a microscope.

she was sour from that point on, the perpetual scornful knitting of her brows evident to anyone who cared to look from the beginning of her shift until the very end. she'd kept her mouth sewn shut the entire day even when tiger called her over before she could change and grab her stuff to leave the vile workplace — even when he'd asked her to 'have a drink' with a customer for another hour — even when said customer spilt his drink down her front. only when kid noticed the grubby hand on her thigh creeping inward did ishani finally release whatever had been caught on her tongue all day, her own drink now being thrown in his face.

"fuck off you worthless pig! keep your dirty dick in your pants and leave me the fuck alone!"

any and all conversations from lingering individuals in the vicinity would cease entirely upon hearing the howl released from the formerly well-mannered ring girl. caught in the sights of her boss and coworker for two entirely different reasons, ishani shot up from her seat to storm off from the man at the table, called after only by tiger as she made her way toward the locker rooms.

"ishani!"

she didn't even glance back at him, continuing her way out of the central arena to leave the bewildered audience behind as she disappeared into the employee-only section of the building. kid would catch himself rushing through any leftover tasks before he could go home with ishani in the forefront of his mind, holding on to the hope that he could run into her before she'd left and offer some sympathy for her day — only to find the locker room entirely empty when he grabbed his bag. with the release of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, he'd opt instead to simply keep an eye on her tomorrow and make sure she was alright, stepping out the back door with slumped, aching shoulders.

— and then, as he took in a deep breath of the fresh air on the second step, his eyes would be quicker than his mind to notice the figure in his peripheral. by the time he recognized her, ishani's attention was already on him, sitting slumped against the brick wall with a quirked brow at the lanky man on the eroding staircase.

finally, after months of mutual intrigue and accidental eye contact with the other who seemed to be watching when they weren't looking, kid and ishani would interact for the first time with a comfortable breeze between them and hushed voices under the twinkling stars.

"are you okay?" he'd asked sincerely. the wind brushed her hair from her cheeks as she replied, "yeah. all good." and yet, he could've sworn he'd noticed a glum cadence in her words.

"do you want me to call a taxi?"

"it's alright, but thank you." she produced a small smile identical to the other sad grins presented throughout the day. "just waiting for him to go home before i leave."

him — the man at the bar. kid was already leaning on his heel to turn back inside. "i can tell him to leave." he could almost see the rain clouds looming over her head begin to part as her downturned smile grew brighter, unalloyed while her shoulders straightened out.

"i'd appreciate that."

she spoke with the gratitude obvious in her sparkling eyes, and so, with the simple nod of his head, kid would then head back inside to oblige. he'd even go as far as to exit out the front door for his walk home just to make sure the perverse man didn't turn back around, all the while contemplating his limited interactions with the ring girl. unbeknownst to him, this decision would finally grace ishani with the first real smile she'd experienced in a long while, one that remained imprinted all the way home as if to remind herself how to do it.

the days following this incident would proceed as normal if not for the instances when their eyes caught from across the room once more, a different kind of smile on her lips than the one he’d grown used to. it caught him totally off guard the first time and left him utterly unsure of how to react or respond before she was whisked away by tiger to fulfill another duty in the day. however, by the second honest smile kid had become certain this wasn't just a fluke, mustering the courage and the will to push through the throbbing in his jaw as he replicated her grin. it wasn't nearly as genuine or convincing as ishani's, but it was there, and that's all that really mattered in her eyes.

day by day, little by little, kid and ishani's smile-laced glances would grow friendlier and friendlier despite their lack of communication — even getting to the point where others had begun to notice.

"making after work plans, there, kong?" cobra would snicker as he took a step closer to the beast on the other side of the ring.

"stop talking and hit me."

it wasn't until a little over two weeks after they'd spoken that ishani and the monkey man would be in contact with one another again, finding themselves interacting once more due to a complex work situation;

he was waiting against the wall of tiger’s perpetually locked office door when he’d noticed her enter the locker room — practically barging through the greasy guys with hands balled into fists as she walked right past him and up to tiger's office. she'd knock with heavy knuckles against the chipped oil paint and, after a brief pause, the door would swing open to reveal their hasty-looking employer with an astounded and somewhat irritated expression on his face.

"ishani," tiger hummed with condescension weaved in his tone "i don't suppose this could wait."

she stood her ground with a simple "no," replicating his low octave but without the distain present in her vocal cords. kid swore he could still sense it.

“alright,” their boss sighed and pulled the door open further to let her in. “grab a seat.”

before entering ishani would promptly glance over at the bloody man leaned into the wall beside her, a look of what he could only describe as sympathy creasing her features. this puzzling gesture urged him now to respond the only way he could — the only way they did — and earned her a comforting smile as she started to head inside. the minuscule flash of her grin appeared on her lips for only a second before she then disappeared from his view, completely failing to close the door behind her.

the monkey man wasted only a moment on internal debate before deciding to inch closer to the doorway and listen in, back pressed flat to the wall and eyes forward while he overheard their conversation. she must've left the door open for a reason, right?

"it's like i've told you before,” tiger spoke in an annoyed grumble “that isn't how business works, and that isn't how this is going to work — if it did work like that i'd be the richest person in the world tomorrow, but unfortunately company comes before personnel."

"all i'm asking is for you to stick to your word. i don't expect any favors. just respect."

"respect?" he asks with an exasperated thinness, a scoff caught in his throat. "respect you?"

ishani, on the other hand, is surprisingly calm despite her previous demeanor. “would you break a promise with someone you respect?” tiger finally scoffs.

“what promise, ishani? i never promise anything to anyone — especially not the ring girl with a fake name who prances around for money.”

kid can almost hear the smirk in her voice. “the ring girl whose made you an extra few thousand rupees every night? s’that the one you’re talking about? — because if so, that’s even more of a reason to keep your word.”

there is a beat before tigers response that left the eavesdropping man outside to ponder his own theories of what he was doing during this time. maybe he was pushing his tongue in his cheek to keep his big mouth from saying something he shouldn’t. maybe he was brushing his hair behind his ears as the thought of a cool and collected response. maybe —

“i don’t give hand-outs, ishani.”

on the contrary to his mulling, her answer was immediate. “that is such bullshit, man! you rig every match! how am i asking too much when you make me to stay late every night just to laugh at some sweaty guys' jokes? not to mention the other things you beg me to do. and yet i never complain and i never whine — which is why i asked you last week for my pay today. i need that money today, tiger.”

kids brows would furrow upon hearing this new information. he knew tiger did things under the table, of course, everyone did! most matches were rigged and he did ask ishani to sit with some overzealous customer just about every night, however her emphasis on other things caught his full attention, the implications nearly baring his teeth.

"i can't give you your pay tonight. best i can do is friday."

"friday?" ishani repeats, her volume raised higher than before "it's tuesday, tiger — how am i going to eat tonight? how will i wash my clothes tomorrow? what am i supposed to do until friday?"

"honestly, i don't know, but i believe you'll figure it out. now, i have somewhere to be, so i will see you tomorrow." tiger's annoyance is now outwardly apparent in his voice.

"that's it? i should just go fuck myself then?"

"if that's what you wish to call it, sure; go fuck yourself — now get out of my office."

from around the corner kid can hear a chair screeching as its legs skid against the ground before landing with a thud. then, ishani's swift but heavy footsteps, her face beet red as she exited the office in the same manner as she had arrived. and before kid even has the chance to do or say anything, tiger is peeking his head out to see who else had been looming around to speak with him.

"you come to make demands, too?"

make demands. he noted tiger's verbiage before shaking his head.

"all right, let's get this over with."

kid would almost hobble out the back door for a cigarette after his match when he’d noticed ishani already two steps ahead, mid-drag as she looked over to see who'd stumbled into her alone time. of course it was the monkey man — who else? she exhaled the smoke before speaking.

"i always feel sorry for kong. looks painful."

her voice seemed so much softer when directed at him, though maybe that was just the foreignness of them actually speaking to one another. kid took a moment to respond while restraining a wince from the shift in weight as he worked down the second step. “don't feel sorry, kong's 'the beast.'" ishani shifted to face him when he arrived at the third.

"is he, though? or is that just how he's made out to be?"

kid would have to pause once more in order to work through what she was saying — what the true meaning was hidden in the ambiguity — and more importantly what he was going to say back. he’d watch her take another drag with her eyes fixed on him, finally making it down to the final step before deciding to mirror her intentional vagueness. “does it matter by this point?”

the warm twinkle in her eyes ran cold upon hearing this response, now more of a troubled glint as she pulled her gaze from his silhouette trudging to lean against the brick. from her peripheral she could see him fishing for something in his pockets and her own free hand would subconsciously slip into hers, the other bringing the menthol back to her lips. “i think so…” she’d trail off, and for a moment, that was that.

and then he was the one to suddenly speak, his tone barely over a whisper after a long exhale of billowing smoke. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“why’d you leave the door open?”

a deceitful smirk graced her lips as she took another drag in what he assumed was an act to postpone her answer. “because.” ishani hummed lowly, “i didn’t want you to think i was soft.”

this took him aback entirely. of all hypotheses he had conjured up over the last two hours to explain her varying demeanor, this was not one of them, didn't even make the list. kid's adams apple bobbed while he swallowed the hesitance in his vocal cords, her gaze returning to his just in time to catch this quirk.

"i don't."

the warmth in her eyes would return again after these words left his mouth, and though she would only smile in that sincere manner she had revealed all those days ago, it felt as though she wanted to say something; the corners of her lips twitching as her eyes flicked between his. how awfully he wished to hear it — her thoughts on his rare transparency — but ishani would remain utterly silent with the grin on her face fighting to show teeth. kid would grow timid quickly under the pressure of her gaze and silence, unintentionally prodding him to abruptly blurt out what he'd been poring over since the moment he'd left tiger's office.

“do you know ‘kings?’ the elite club in uptown mumbai?”

ishani’s brows furrowed as she shook her head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“well…” he took a breath in an attempt to navigate how to go about this, each explanation coming off worse and worse. he looked off to the skyline. “all the wealthy businessmen go there to pay for girls to laugh at their shitty jokes. if anyone could do it..."

there was a beat before her response that left kid out in the cold for the few milliseconds it took her to find what to say, the anxiety in his chest rising until an entirely unfamiliar sound eased his swirling worries, light and harmonious in the night chirping with crickets. he'd glance back over at ishani to find her restraining the giggles emitting from her throat with her pointer on her lips, eyes now looking back up at him as she smiled.

"you trying to pimp me out?"

her apparent delight would grow along with her grin as she watched his face flush with the unsure and somewhat nervous chuckles falling from his split lips. "that is what it sounds like, huh?" he'd look away to ash the dwindling cigarette between his trembling fingers "just wanna help, is all. promise."

ishani turned towards him even more now, inadvertently catching his full and undivided attention, though she simply pressed the butt of her dead cigarette into the brick. "see?" she spoke sweetly — knowingly as she took half a step toward the back door with a vivid twinkle in her eye, "kong's not as bad as people make him out to be."

and with that, she turned, filter in hand as she monitored him all the way to the back door. with her fingertips grazing the rusted handle ishani would offer one last salute towards the monkey man before finally heading back inside, leaving him alone against the brick to ponder their interactions once more. the absence of her response had his suspicion snowballing on how she'd taken the offer and, with another puff of tobacco, kid found himself accepting her subtle rejection.

— so imagine his shock the next day when he'd exited the kings' kitchen for a breath of fresh air only to find ishani doing the same.

"hey," she'd smile, a familiar glow in her gaze on the dumbfounded man "funny seeing you here."

#[ kid ]#kid ✶ ishani #dev patel #monkey man #monkey man 2024 #monkey man fanfiction #dev patel x reader #dev patel fanfic #dev patel imagines #dev patel imagine #oc community #oc creation #ocs #oc #my ocs #oc x canon

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estsolcity · 12 days ago

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visuals. interactions. pinterest.

( simone ashley, 30, woman, she/her ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that ISHANI RAMSAY is a FARMER that works in SECTOR 2. That must be why they’re INDEPENDENT and DISTRUSTFUL. If you ask me, they remind me of waking up at dawn, harvesting eggs & vegatables, being woken up by a rooster, an angel & devil on your shoulder. They are affiliated with NOBODY.

✕ ⸻ BASICS

⸻ FULL NAME: ISHANI RAMSAY ⸻ BIRTHDAY: April 2nd ⸻ ZODIAC: Aries ⸻ AGE: 30 years old ⸻ GENDER: cis female ⸻ PRONOUNS: she/her ⸻ SEXUAL & ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: bisexual & biromantic ⸻ SCARS / TATTOOS / PIERCINGS: tbd ⸻ OCCUPATION: Farmer of sector 2 ⸻ FAMILY: Dodge Ramsay (42, mutant).

✕ ⸻ BIO

to be updated & perfected more in the future

✕ ⸻ WANTED CONNECTIONS

open to anything

seth's "gf" -- moreso she thinks they're in a relationship, he just goes along with it + he is the father of her unborn baby

a mutant (or two) that helps her farming, making her farm functional for society.

✕ ⸻ HEADCANONS

Early Riser: Ishani wakes up at the crack of dawn, no matter how exhausted she is. She doesn't need an alarm; her body just knows when it’s time to work. The farm doesn't wait.

Dirt Under Her Nails: No matter how much she washes up, her hands are never fully clean. There’s always a bit of earth clinging to her, like it refuses to let her go.

Talks to Her Plants: She whispers encouragement to her crops and apologizes when she has to uproot them. She doesn’t even think about it—it’s just second nature. She knows exactly what they need, & they never betray her trust.

Cooks in Big Batches: She doesn't like waste, so when she cooks, she makes enough for multiple meals. If someone drops by, she’ll feed them without hesitation.

Journal of the Seasons: Ishani marks in her journal when crops flourish & when they fail. She doesn't trust nature, but she respects it.

Knows How to Fight: Farming in Sol City means dealing with thieves, raiders, and desperate scavengers. Ishani is not afraid to get her hands dirty—literally and figuratively.

Carries a Hidden Blade – She has a small sickle tucked into her belt or boots at all times. It’s mostly for farm work, but she wouldn’t hesitate to use it if needed. A gift from Dodge, back when they lived together.

Can Identify Poisonous Plants: From her farming knowledge, she can tell which plants are safe to eat, medicinal, or deadly—a skill that has saved her life before.

Gives Strays a Place to Stay – Whether it’s mutants on the run or injured animals, Ishani always finds a way to shelter those in need, even if she acts like she doesn’t care.

Can’t Sit Still – Even when she’s "relaxing," she’s fidgeting with something—tying knots, rolling a seed between her fingers, or sharpening a tool.

Smells Like the Earth: No matter how much she washes, there’s always a faint scent of soil, sun-warmed grass, and something green about her. It clings to her like a second skin.

Good with a Needle & Thread: Whether it’s patching up a torn sleeve or stitching a wound, she’s steady-handed and precise, though she grumbles about doing it.

Drinks Her Coffee Black: No sugar, no cream. Just bitter and strong, like she prefers her mornings.

Soft Spot for Children: She pretends she doesn’t, but she’ll go out of her way to make sure the local kids have food, shelter, and safety. She just won’t make a big deal about it.

Fixes Things Without Being Asked: A broken gate, a leaky roof, a busted tool—if she sees something that needs fixing, she just does it. No need for thanks.

Secretly Loves Music, But Can’t Dance – She’ll listen to music while working, humming under her breath, but if someone tries to get her to dance? Absolutely not. Feet stay planted.

Ridiculously Good at Darts: No one knows why, but she can hit the bullseye every time. Probably has something to do with years of throwing tools at pests.

Swears in Multiple Languages: She’s picked up curses from traders, scavengers, books, and travelers. Sometimes she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

Hates Sweets, Loves Salty Snacks: If she’s snacking, it’s something crunchy and salty. Give her jerky or roasted seeds over cake any day.

Talks to Her Sickle Like It’s an Old Friend: When no one’s around, she mutters things like, “Well, let’s see what trouble we’re getting into today.”

Collects Interesting Rocks: If she spots a weirdly shaped or colorful stone, she pockets it without thinking.

Lowkey Loves Cloud-Watching: She’ll never admit it, but sometimes she pauses during the day just to look at the sky.

Unironically Enjoys Bad Jokes: The cornier, the better. She might roll her eyes, but she’s definitely holding back a laugh.

Can Mimic a Perfect Whistle: Bird calls, warning signals, you name it—she’s got an impressive whistle range.

✕ ⸻ QUESTIONNARE

how do they feel about living in sol city? have they always lived there or did they travel from another settlement?

Ishani was not born in Sol City—she grew up in the same rural, all-human settlement as Dodge, where their wealthy family had lived for generations. However, she left by choice, while Dodge left out of obligation. She came to Sol City in her early twenties, searching for independence and purpose. Farming in the city’s harsh conditions is difficult, but she takes pride in cultivating life in a place that often feels like it’s falling apart. She doesn’t necessarily love Sol City, but it’s where she built her life, and she refuses to abandon it. She doesn’t romanticize the city, but she believes in making the best of what she has. She’s too stubborn to leave, even when things get rough. Sol City is her home now, whether she likes it or not.

do they trust the council’s leadership?why or why not?

As a farmer, Ishani witnesses firsthand how the Council hoards resources, making life harder for those who actually keep the city running. She resents their strict regulations, unfair taxes, and lack of support for agricultural workers. The Council isn’t interested in fixing Sol City’s problems—only in maintaining power. Ishani believes they’d rather let people starve than admit their policies are failing. Coming from a wealthy, human family, Ishani grew up hearing the truth behind closed doors. She knows how the Council twists narratives, silences dissent, and maintains a false image of order. At the end of the day, Ishani doesn’t believe in the Council or their vision for Sol City. If they fell tomorrow, she wouldn’t shed a tear—she’d just keep farming, keep surviving, and keep building something real.

if they chose their sector and profession, why did they make that choice? if they didn’t, why not? were they happy with their assignment or not?

Yes, Ishani chose to become a farmer and established her own land. Ishani wouldn’t trade her profession for anything—but that doesn’t mean she isn’t angry at how much harder the system makes it for people like her.

what’s one object that they always keep on their person?

A folded cloth pouch of seeds. Why? It’s a simple yet meaningful item—a symbol of resilience, survival, and hope. No matter where she is, she likes knowing she has the potential to grow life in her hands. What’s Inside? The pouch holds a mix of heirloom seeds, including: - Mustard seeds (a nod to her heritage) - Rice grains (a staple crop she wishes she could grow more of) - Medicinal herbs (like holy basil and fenugreek) If you ever see Ishani idly rolling something between her fingers, it’s probably a seed, reminding herself that even in the harshest conditions, life can still grow.

#*ir.visual

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jetii · 1 month ago

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The New Deal

Part Two

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Intimacy

Pairing: Thorn x Senator Vale Ishani (OC)

Words: 14,400/27,656

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, secret relationship, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, accidental love confessions, so much flirting and innuendo, dirty talk, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), it is the expected level of freak for these two, part 2 even more so

A/N: I don't know what it is about writing these two that turns me into a monster, but I felt like a woman possessed. There was supposed to be plot here...somewhere...

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist | Thorn and Vale Masterlist

Thorn isn't sure how much longer he can keep getting away with this.

The truth is, he knows that he's in way over his head. That this isn't a good idea. That this can only end in heartbreak, and pain, and a whole host of other problems that he really doesn't want to deal with. And yet, the temptation is too great, and he can't bring himself to walk away.

So instead, he spends his days hiding his relationship, his nights sneaking out of the barracks to spend time with Vale, and his free time trying to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do.

It's not the most productive use of his time, and Thorn knows that his brothers are starting to notice. They've asked him more than once why he's been spending so much time away from the barracks, and he's given them the same answer: extra training. He can't help but feel guilty, especially when he knows that they're not buying it, but he's not sure how else to explain what he's doing.

The truth is, Thorn's not sure he understands what he's doing.

It's been a month since the two of them returned from Atrisia, and things have only gotten more complicated. They'd managed to keep things quiet on the cruiser, but once they were back on Coruscant, the rules had changed.

Vale has been busy, dealing with the fallout of the assassination attempt and the upcoming election season, and Thorn has been splitting his time between his regular duties and acting as Vale's personal guard. The latter isn't something he would normally do, but the Chancellor has insisted, and Vale hasn't protested.

The fact that he's now in the position to protect her is a huge weight off his shoulders. Thorn had spent most of his time on the cruiser worrying about her safety and wondering if the attempt on her life would be repeated. Knowing that she has him there, watching her back, has done a lot to ease his mind.

But even with the extra time together, things have still been complicated, and they've only managed to steal a handful of moments alone together.

Today is no different.

Vale has had no less than four meetings with the Chancellor this past week, and her schedule has been filled with a seemingly endless list of events and appearances. Thorn's days have been just as busy. With the Senate in session, he's been tasked with assisting with the security detail for several events and conferences, and his nights have been filled with patrols and security checks.

Today, he's been assigned a shift in the Senate Rotunda, and while his job is mostly standing around making sure no one was plotting a surprise assassination attempt, he doesn't mind. It's an easy assignment, and he likes the view.

Vale's platform is right in his line of sight, and it's the perfect vantage point for watching her. She looks regal standing there, her hands braced on the edge of the platform, her voice echoing through the chamber. Her robes are a dark, rich blue, and her hair is twisted up into an intricate bun, the light catching the golden threads woven throughout it.

Not that he's paying attention to any of that, of course. He's not supposed to be noticing those things.

No, Thorn is supposed to be watching the room. Which is exactly what he's doing. And if his gaze wanders back to Vale every few minutes, it's not for any reason other than keeping her safe. That's his job, and he's taking it seriously.

That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

Thorn can't help but feel like he's been on a rollercoaster over the past few weeks. First, the tension, and the longing, and the frustration, and now, this. This strange, uncertain, and undefined thing that's developed between the two of them. He doesn't have a name for it, and he's not sure if he's ready to call it what he wants it to be.

He doesn't even know what he wants. Or at least, he doesn't know how to get it.

Because he knows what he wants. It's the same thing he's wanted since the day he first met her. He wants her. All of her. Not just her body, or her attention, or her time.

He wants all of her. Every last part of her.

And he's never wanted anything more.

The thing is, Thorn's never had trouble going after what he wants. If he wants something, he usually just goes for it. But with Vale, things are different. She's a senator, and the daughter of a wealthy, influential family, and she's been raised with all the privileges and opportunities that come with her birthright. She's got a whole galaxy of suitors to choose from, and Thorn's well aware that he doesn't exactly have a lot to offer.

He's a clone. An expendable soldier who was created for the sole purpose of dying for the Republic. He doesn't have any rights, or any possessions, and the only thing he has to his name is his service record. He's not a bad looking man, and his brothers have always told him he has a decent sense of humor, but when compared to the galaxy full of senators and nobles and celebrities who are throwing themselves at her, he's not exactly a prize.

And yet, here she is, standing right in front of him, her eyes locked with his, a soft smile on her lips.

It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense.

Vale tilts her head, a silent question on her face, and Thorn inclines his head slightly, a subtle nod. She nods back, and then her gaze moves back to the Chancellor, and Thorn lets out a soft sigh.

It's going to be a long day.

The sound of the bell echoes through the chamber, signaling the end of the session, and Thorn straightens up, his hands falling to his belt. The senators and their aides file out, but Vale remains seated, her attention on the datapad in her hand.

Thorn glances around the chamber before he slowly makes his way toward her, his boots clicking against the polished floor. When he reaches her, he stops, waiting patiently. She doesn't look up, but Thorn knows she's aware of him. He can tell by the way her lips twitch and the way her breathing changes, just slightly.

He waits, letting the tension build, before he speaks.

"Senator."

"Commander," she replies. She taps a few more times on her datapad and finally glances over her shoulder at him, a smile playing on her lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Thorn looks around the chamber again, tracking the movement of the other senators. Most have already left, but a few are lingering, talking in small groups or packing up their things.

It's not unusual for him to be near Vale during a meeting. In fact, it's his job. But the idea of being seen in such close proximity, especially when there's no danger present, makes his skin prickle.

He lowers his voice, leaning in to speak in her ear. "No reason. Just wanted to check in on you. See how you're doing."

Her smile widens, and Thorn's stomach flips.

"You're sweet," she whispers. Her gaze darts from person to person, and Thorn follows her lead, his eyes scanning the room, cataloging everyone's positions. They're relatively isolated, and while he knows the cameras are watching, there's no way anyone could overhear their conversation.

"I'm trying," he murmurs, and she lets out a soft laugh.

"You didn't have to come over here just to check up on me."

"Yes I did," he tells her. "I wanted to."

"Did you now?"

"Yes."

Vale hums, turning her head to look at him, her gaze drifting over his body. His skin warms, and his heart races. He loves it when she looks at him like that. Loves it when she lets him know what she's thinking, what she's feeling. It's the closest thing to an admission he'll get from her, and it's enough. For now.

She leans back in her chair, and he swallows, his gaze dropping to her lips. She's wearing red lipstick, a shade that's a near exact match for the red of his armor. He's not sure if she chose it on purpose or if it's a coincidence, but either way, it makes him feel possessive. Like she's wearing a part of hi, claiming him in a way.

"Commander," she says, her voice a soft purr. "Do you have something to say to me?"

"I do, Senator," he breathes. He takes a step forward, rounding her chair until he's standing before her, and he clenches his hands into fists behind his back. "I have a lot of things to say."

"Oh? Like what?"

He bends at the waist, a slight bow, and she raises a brow. "Things I shouldn't."

"Well, go on. I'm waiting," she urges, and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. She's always like this, and he's never sure if he's more annoyed or turned on by it. Probably both.

He looks over his shoulder. The room is empty, save for a handful of aides and a couple of the maintenance staff. There's no one nearby, and the chance of anyone hearing them is minimal. Still, he keeps his voice low, just in case.

"I miss you," he says. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, and the coy smile on her face momentarily falters. "And I can't stand being apart from you for another minute."

She blinks, and Thorn bites the inside of his cheek. They've had this conversation before, and each time, it's ended with one or both of them frustrated and angry and wanting more than they can have. Neither of them has brought up the future. Neither of them has said the word 'relationship'. And neither of them has dared to talk about what they are. What they could be.

It's a mess, and it's only getting messier.

"I miss you too, Commander," she whispers, and he watches as the mask slides back into place, the playful, teasing facade she wears around everyone else coming back full force. Her hand slides up his thigh, her palm pressing against the inside of his leg, and Thorn sucks in a breath, his hands flexing behind his back.

"But there's nothing we can do about it. Not right now, at least," she tells him, her nails scraping lightly against his armor.

He lets out a frustrated huff, his jaw clenching. "I'm serious, Vale.”

Her eyes widen, and her hand freezes. Thorn's not sure why he used her name, or where the sudden surge of bravery came from. But he knows that it's important, and he knows that he means it.

They've been using each other's titles since returning to Coruscant, a necessary precaution. But now, it feels wrong, almost like an insult. It's not who they are, and it's not who they are to each other. He's Thorn, and she's Vale, and the distance between them has gone too far, and for too long.

"I hate not being able to see you. I hate not being able to talk to you. It's driving me crazy. You're driving me crazy," he growls. He's not sure if he's more frustrated with her or himself, and the words pour out of him, fueled by a desperation he can't contain.

Her face softens, the teasing, coy expression replaced with a tender, understanding look. Her hand falls away, folding in her lap, and Thorn immediately misses the contact.

"I know. I'm sorry, Thorn," she murmurs. She looks around, her eyes sweeping over the chamber, and then her gaze meets his once more. Her shoulders slump, and Thorn realizes that she's just as conflicted and unsure as he is. "I'm not trying to push you away."

He shakes his head. He doesn't want an apology. He just wants to be with her. He knows it's a terrible idea, and he knows that they should end things, but he can't bring himself to do it. He doesn't want to walk away. And deep down, he knows that she doesn't want to, either.

"I know," he says. "But it doesn't change the fact that I miss you."

She gives him a rueful smile, and his heart twists in his chest.

"I miss you, too," she says softly. "And I wish we could see each other more. I hate having to sneak around. It's ridiculous."

He can't help but chuckle. It's not funny, not really, but it's true. It is ridiculous. And it's getting worse. Every time he sees her, it's harder and harder to walk away. And every time he has to leave, the pain of being separated is worse than the last.

"It is," he agrees. "It's the worst."

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. "The absolute worst."

Thorn sighs, the sound heavy. He looks down at his boots, trying to gather his thoughts.

"We'll figure something out," he says. "We have to."

"I hope so," she murmurs. "Because I'm not sure how much longer I can go without seeing you."

"Me, either," he admits with a sigh. "I'm going crazy, not being able to touch you."

He feels her gaze on him, and he risks a glance. He immediately regrets it when he sees the smirk on her face.

"Touch me, huh?" she asks, a teasing note in her voice. "Is that all you want to do?"

Thorn rolls his eyes. She's always like this, and he should be used to it by now. But every time she flirts with him, every time she teases him, it's like the first time. And he's helpless to resist.

"You're the worst," he mutters. "And no, it's not. I want to do a lot more than just touch you."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

He can't help but groan. He's tempted to tell her. To whisper all the dirty, filthy things he's been imagining, all the things he wants to do to her. But the thought of saying them out loud, of risking being overheard, is too much for him.

"Like nothing, because I'm on duty, and you're about to leave," he grumbles.

"Aw, that's no fun."

"That's what you get," he replies. He straightens and adjusts his stance, his gaze sweeping the chamber again. He doesn't have much time, and he's wasting it. He should be focusing on his job, not flirting with the senator. "I should get going. I have a briefing in an hour, and I need to get ready."

Vale nods, her teeth running over her lower lip. Thorn's eyes are immediately drawn to the motion, and he forces himself to look away, a soft groan escaping him.

"You're not making this any easier, Vale," he mumbles as he turns and starts to walk away, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He doesn't make it more than two steps before her voice stops him in his tracks.

"What are you doing tonight?” she asks, her voice so quiet he almost misses it. His head whips back to her, and he sees her watching him, a small, hopeful smile on her lips.

He's confused. Normally, she doesn't ask him things like this. Normally, she tells him what time she wants him to show up, and where she wants him to meet her. And normally, he doesn't protest, because he knows he'll show up, anyway.

"I...Nothing," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, even though his pulse is pounding.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing that I can't reschedule," he clarifies quickly. He knows he's not fooling anyone. Especially not her.

"Well,” she starts, a slow, playful smile spreading across her face. "In that case, I’ll be hosting a small dinner party for some members of the Finance Committee tonight, and I could use the company for the night. And after. Interested?"

Thorn's eyebrows shoot up. This is the last thing he was expecting. But it's also the perfect opportunity. A few hours at a stuffy party as her guard, and the rest of the night together. It's the best they're going to get. But still, he can't help but tease her.

"Oh, really?" he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest. "And what kind of company are you looking for?"

"A strong, handsome man who can keep me safe," she replies. She pretends to examine her nails, and Thorn bites back a laugh. "I have a lot of enemies, you know."

"I'm aware, Senator," he replies dryly. "I've had a front row seat for most of them."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Details."

The laugh escapes from his lips, a short, sharp sound, and her eyes dart up, a grin spreading across her face.

"So you're just looking for someone to make sure no one tries to poison your wine again?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, though the memory still sends a shiver down his spine.

Her aide had been the one to notice that one, and Thorn had to suffer a lecture from Fox on how the security at her events had better be airtight, or else. It had been a mess, and Thorn had made sure to double-check the food and drink at every single one of Vale's events after. And she complained about it. Endlessly.

"Well, that's part of the job," she says with a shrug. "But I'm also hoping you'll stay and keep me company after. If you're available, that is."

"I'll have to check my schedule," he teases, and Vale rolls her eyes. She rises to her feet, smoothing her robes, and her hands linger on her hips, the movement drawing Thorn's attention. He watches as her fingers trail over the fabric, skimming along the curve of her waist, and he can't tear his gaze away.

"Fine, I'll find someone else," she says, pretending to be offended. She reaches for her datapad, but Thorn snatches it away, holding it out of her reach. She pouts. "Rude."

"Senator, please. There's no need for such drastic measures," he tells her as he lowers the datapad, tapping the screen and opening the calendar. He pretends to scroll through her appointments, trying to keep his amusement from showing. “I'm sure I can work you in."

She gives him a sly look. "How accommodating."

"Only the best for you, Senator," he replies. He hands her the datapad, and Vale smirks.

"See that it is, Commander. I'll expect you at 18:00 tonight," she orders. Thorn snaps his heels together, and he gives her a quick salute.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," she says, her eyes sparkling. She brushes past him, her hand trailing over his forearm. "I'll see you later, Commander."

"Count on it," he growls, and her lips quirk up into a mischievous grin.

"I'm looking forward to it," she says. She turns and walks away, and Thorn is helpless to do anything but watch her go, the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears.

As soon as she's out of sight, he lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep up this charade. He doesn't know how much longer they'll have, or if there's any chance of this working out. But the fact that she's willing to try means everything. And for now, that's enough.

He'll take what he can get.

Vale’s apartment is the kind of luxury that can only be afforded by a high-ranking member of the Republic Senate.

It's located in one of the most exclusive districts on Coruscant, and it's easily one of the most luxurious buildings on the planet. The furniture is expensive, the walls covered in artwork that he can't begin to understand, and the view from the windows is nothing short of spectacular. It's a far cry from his barracks, and even further from Kamino.

The apartment is huge, easily bigger than his entire squad's quarters, and yet it feels empty. Like a showroom rather than a home. It's clean, and modern, and elegant, and completely devoid of any personality.

Vale’s aide Trina, a Rutian Twi’Lek who has been working with her since before her election, and who he’s pretty sure despises him, has been running around the apartment for the past half-hour, barking orders at servers and rearranging the decorations. He hasn't been paying attention, instead opting to stand in the corner out of the way and try not to feel completely overwhelmed.

He's nervous.

It's a new feeling, and not one he's used to. He’s been here once before, but that was only for a few minutes, and the situation was far more dire. The place had been swarming with police and members of the Guard, and Thorn had spent most of his time keeping everyone from trampling on evidence and making sure that Vale was okay. Now he's standing in the living room, and there's no imminent danger, and Vale's not bleeding out on the couch.

The night’s still young, though.

He's still wearing his armor, and he’s grateful for that. It hides his nerves, and he needs every bit of confidence he can get. Vale is still getting ready, and he's not sure what to do but stand around and wait. He's already gone over the security details for the party, and he's already double checked the guest list, and now he's just trying to occupy his time.

He's never felt so out of his element, and he doesn't like it.

“Can I help?” he asks as Trina moves past him.

She glances up, her brow furrowing. He's sure that she thinks he's an idiot, and maybe she's right. But the least he can do is try. He still feels a little guilty for Vale neglecting to tell her anything about his presence until he arrived, and the last thing he wants is to make it worse.

Trina had walked into the living room and immediately dropped her datapa, a surprised, and slightly horrified, expression on her face when she saw him. Vale had quickly explained that she'd invited Thorn to be her bodyguard for the evening, and that he was staying. And from the look on Trina's face, that's not a common occurrence. Or maybe it is, and that's the problem. He's not sure.

Then Vale had disappeared into her bedroom, and Thorn had been left with her aide. And the caterers. And the servers. And the bartender. It's been an interesting evening, and it's not even started.

Trina looks him up and down. He shifts, and she lets out a huff.

"No thank you, Commander," she says stiffly.

“Are you sure? I can help with the decorations. Or moving things around.” He nods toward the dining room. “The table is crooked."

"The table is not crooked," she tells him firmly. She turns her head, and her eyes widen. "Oh, kriff."

Thorn grins. "I'll fix it."

She lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes, and Thorn walks past her, heading into the dining room. It's a massive room, the floor-to-ceiling windows providing a stunning view of the city. The table is long, easily large enough to fit a dozen people, and it's decorated with a centerpiece of flowers and candles. He aligns it properly, careful not to disturb the arrangement. When he's satisfied, he turns to Trina, who's watching him with a look of begrudging respect.

"Better?"

"Much," she says, shaking her head. She glances at the table and smiles. "Thank you, Commander."

He shrugs. "Anytime."

She studies him, and he has the sudden urge to squirm under her gaze. Her arms cross over her chest, her eyes squinting as if she can see through his helmet.

"So," she says, dragging out the word. "Why are you here?"

He blinks. That's a good question. One that he's been asking himself for the last month.

"To protect Senator Ishani," he answers, but it sounds wrong. He knows that's not why, not anymore, but he's not sure what else to say. And judging by the look on her face, she can tell.

"Protect her, huh?" she asks, raising a brow. "I thought that's what the rest of the Guard is for. Why did she need you specifically?"

"She doesn't," he says. "She wanted me here.".

"She did?" she asks, sounding surprised.

He nods. "Yes."

"Huh," she murmurs, her brow furrowing. Her arms fall, and she braces her hands on her hips, tilting her head. "Well, that's new."

"Is it?" he asks. He tries to ignore the flutter of excitement in his chest. If she's inviting him to these things, that means something, right? Even if he’s supposed to stand guard for the evening, it still means something. Right?

"Yeah," she says. "She doesn't usually have people over. Let alone ask a member of the Guard to be here. I'm pretty sure this is the first time."

"It is?"

"Yep," she says, popping the p. “She usually just sits and pretends to enjoy herself until she can go hide in her room."

Thorn feels a flash of concern. That doesn't sound like Vale. She seems to thrive off these kinds of things, the parties and the galas and the endless parade of social events. To hear her aide tell it, it's her own personal hell.

"I thought she liked this stuff."

"No, she hates it," she tells him. Her tone is casual, as if this is something everyone knows. "But she knows how to put on a show."

Thorn has no idea what to say. He's suddenly struck with the image of Vale, alone in her apartment, surrounded by strangers. Of her, putting on a show for them, for him. The thought makes his stomach churn.

He doesn't know Vale, not really. He knows what she likes, and he knows what she doesn't like, and he knows how to make her laugh. But other than that, he's still not entirely sure what's real and what's not. Is the woman who's throwing a dinner party for her colleagues and political allies the same one who's sneaking off to cantina on the lower levels, just to talk with him? Or is she the woman who's laughing at Senator Orn Free Taa's awful jokes, all the while planning his political demise? Or is she both, and neither, and everything in between?

He has no idea, and it bothers him more than he cares to admit.

"I don't get it," she says, tilting her head.

"Get what?"

"You," she tells him.

He feels a flicker of panic.

"What do you mean?" he asks carefully, his voice even, his posture relaxed.

"You're not the usual kind of person she brings to these things," she explains, waving her hand around the room. "Usually, it's some guy she meets at a club, or a Senator, or a businessman. But you're not any of those things."

"No, I'm not," he agrees. He has no idea where she's going with this, and the fact that she's talking about Vale's love life, or lack thereof, isn't helping. He tries not to think about it, tries not to let the jealousy creep up. But he can't help it. “I’m her guard. For the night, at least."

Trina pauses, and Thorn gets the distinct impression that she's trying not to laugh.

"Commander, I've worked for Senator Ishani for five years, and the only time I've seen her happy is when you're around," she tells him. She shakes her head. "Trust me, if she could bring you to every single dinner party and gala, she would."

His heart skips a beat, and his mind races, trying to process what she's telling him.

"Really?" he asks, his voice low and hesitant.

"Really," she confirms. She glances over her shoulder, and then she takes a step closer, lowering her voice. "I'm pretty sure that's why you're here, Commander. Not for your ability to fix tables."

"Oh," he says, letting out a weak laugh.

She smirks. "Besides, she's been happier lately. She hasn't smiled that much since she was elected."

Thorn shifts, his hand clenching and unclenching behind his back. He doesn't know what to say, or what he should say. Probably nothing, if he was smart. But he's not, not when it comes to Vale, and the way Trina's looking at him tells him that he's already in too deep.

"She deserves to be happy," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, she does." She looks at him, and he swears he can see something akin to respect in her eyes. "So if you hurt her, I'll have you killed."

“I would never,” he replies emphatically, the words slipping out before he can think better of them. Trina raises an eyebrow, and Thorn quickly amends, "That is, I would never let anyone hurt her, if I could help it. I’m not—we’re not—this isn't—"

“Save it for someone dumb enough to believe you, Commander. We both know that's not true,” she interrupts with a wave of her hand, and Thorn snaps his mouth shut. He's not sure how this went from a polite conversation about furniture to him getting the shovel talk, but he has a sinking feeling that Trina knows exactly what's going on.

He’s about to protest further, but he's cut off by the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen. He and Trina look at each other, and she rolls her eyes, letting out an annoyed huff.

"Karking idiots," she mutters. She shakes her head and strides out of the room, her heels clacking on the hardwood. “Hey!”

Thorn takes a deep breath, shaking out his hands, and tries to steady his nerves. His palms are sweaty, and his heart is racing. He can't remember the last time he was this nervous.

This is stupid. This is his job. He should be calm, cool, and collected. Instead, he's standing in the dining room trying not to lose his mind over a girl. A girl who's not even his.

He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. In, out, in, out. He closes his eyes, counting down from ten. When he opens them again, he's calmer, and his mind is clearer. He can do this. A few hours of playing bodyguard, and he gets to spend the rest of the night with Vale. It's worth it.

"Senator!" a voice calls from the kitchen.

"Coming!"

The sound of footsteps draws Thorn's attention, and he looks up to see Vale descending the staircase.

And just like that, his nerves return.

She's dressed in a black silk gown, the fabric clinging to her curves, and his eyes roam over her body, taking in every inch. The dress is simple, but stunning, and the neckline is low enough to reveal a tantalizing amount of tanned skin. Her hair is pulled back, a few loose curls framing her face, and her lips are painted the same shade of red as earlier. He's certain now that she chose the color on purpose.

He can't help but stare. He's seen her in formal wear plenty of times, but each time, it takes his breath away. This is no exception. If anything, this is the best.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she mutters as she hurries down the stairs, blowing a hair out of her face. She's not looking where she's going, her eyes fixed on the datapad in her hand, and Thorn's hands itch to reach out and steady her.

"Watch your step," he says, and she waves him off.

"I got it, Commander," she says distractedly. "Thank you."

"Vale," he says sharply, making her head snap up. Her eyes widen, and Thorn's heart skips a beat. He's usually better about using her title, especially when they're in public. But seeing her like this, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, he can't help himself.

"Sorry, Thorn," she replies, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. She descends the final step into the living room, and her eyes dart to him. "Hi."

"Hi," he says, low and soft, and he can't hide the smile in his voice.

He looks her up and down, drinking her in, and he's hit with a wave of emotion that he's not expecting. It's more than lust, more than desire, and it's more than admiration. It's something deeper, something that's been building between them for weeks now. Something that he doesn't have a name for, something that's terrifying, and overwhelming, and intoxicating.

She stops a few feet away from him, a shy smile on her face. He can see she's not wearing her heels yet, and it's such a small thing, but it's the first time she's seemed anything other than completely put together. It's cute. And it makes his chest ache.

"So, what do you think?" she asks, gesturing to her dress. She turns, showing off the way the dress hugs her curves. It's an innocent enough gesture, but the way her hips sway and the way the fabric shifts has Thorn swallowing hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"You look great," he says honestly. It's not a strong enough word, but it's all he can think of.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, thank you, Commander," she says. If he looks close enough, and he is, he can see a blush staining her cheeks.

"That's a good color on you," he adds.

"Color?" she asks. She runs a hand over the skirt of her dress, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle, and Thorn's eyes follow the motion. "It's black."

He steps closer, the distance between them shrinking. He's careful not to touch her, not to let his armor brush against her bare skin, and he keeps his hands clasped behind his back.

"I meant the lipstick," he murmurs. "I like it. It suits you."

Vale looks up at him through her lashes, her gaze heated. "You noticed."

"I did," he says. His eyes dart to her lips, and then back up. "Hard not to. It's the same color as my armor."

"Oh, is it?" she asks, feigning surprise. "How coincidental."

"Yeah, funny that," he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He braces his hand on the railing next to her, leaning down, his face inches from hers. "I wonder how that happened."

"Who knows?" she says, and her lips quirk up. She's not even trying to hide the smirk. "Maybe you can get a closer look later."

"Maybe," he rumbles, and she lets out a shuddering breath, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He can't help but grin.

"Commander, are you flirting with me?" she teases.

"Maybe," he drawls, his hand curling around the railing. He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but he knows he can't. Not yet. And especially not here. "But if I was, you wouldn't complain, would you?"

"No," she breathes.

He lets his hand trail down the banister, his knuckles brushing against the fabric of her dress, and she shivers. Her skin is warm, and he can smell her perfume, the scent filling his nose. He's tempted to bury his face in the curve of her neck and breathe her in, but he resists. Barely.

"Good," he growls, and Vale swallows hard, her eyes dark. He clears his throat, taking a step back and clasping his hands behind his back. "Are you ready?"

She blinks, a hint of disappointment in her gaze, and her mouth opens, but she doesn't speak. She seems to remember herself, her eyes darting around the room, and he can tell she's remembering their surroundings.

"I, um, I'm almost ready," she says, shaking her head. Her cheeks flush, and Thorn's tempted to tease her. He doesn't, but he wants to. "I just need to finish my hair, and grab my shoes, and, uh, yeah. Almost ready."

She looks flustered, and Thorn can't help but chuckle. It's cute.

"Alright, well, don't let me distract you," he tells her. She gives him a mock glare, her hand finding his chest, and she pushes him backwards. He grunts, stumbling, and she lets out a breathy laugh.

"Give me two minutes," she says, and her hand lingers, her fingertips trailing over his plastoid armor.

"I'll give you one," he replies. "You've already taken two hours."

"Oh, please, I'm worth the wait."

"Don't I know it," he mutters, and her eyes sparkle, a smirk on her face. He lets out a sigh. "Go, before you're late to your own party."

"Be right back," she says, flashing him a smile over her shoulder as she turns slowly. He reaches out and swats her ass, and she lets out a yelp, a surprised laugh escaping her. "Commander!"

"Go," he orders, pointing toward the staircase.

"Fine," she replies as she throws her hands in the air. Thorn watches her go, his gaze fixed on the sway of her hips and the curve of her ass. When she's out of sight, he leans back against the banister, a sigh escaping his lips.

This is going to be a long night.

The dinner party is, much like every event that Vale has attended in the past six months, a complete and utter disaster.

But unlike most of the others, Thorn is not entirely miserable.

He's had worse jobs, and this one is pretty easy. There are no threats, no imminent danger, and he's mostly just standing around, which means his brain is free to wander. And it's definitely wandered.

Vale has spent the majority of the night sitting at the far end of the table, making polite conversation and pretending to be interested in the political ramblings of her guests. She's good at it, the act, but Thorn can tell she's not really paying attention. He's not, either. Not with her sitting so close.

He's standing off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the room. Her guests had made a fuss when they arrived, insisting that it wasn't necessary, and he'd insisted just as firmly that it was. Vale hadn't said a word, simply nodding along. But Thorn had seen the way her lips twitched, and he had known that she was trying not to laugh as he went toe to toe with Senator Taa, who seemed convinced that the whole thing was an insult to his honor.

Now, he's just watching the people around him, doing his best to stay out of their way, his attention diverted between Vale and the servers coming in and out of the kitchen. He's keeping an eye on her, making sure she doesn't choke on a bite of food, or get poisoned, or any of the other things that could potentially kill her. But more importantly, he's also watching the way the light reflects off her tan skin, and the way her eyes sparkle, and the way her lips wrap around the stem of her wine glass.

And most importantly, he's counting down the minutes until the dinner is over and they can have some semblance of privacy.

Vale had warned him that these kinds of events would be long and tedious, but Thorn hadn't really believed her. She had given him a look when he'd told her as much, and she had promised him that it would be awful. She had been right.

It's been an hour, and his brain has officially started to melt. He's not even sure what they're talking about anymore. It's something about taxation rates, or maybe tariffs, or possibly the price of durasteel. Or maybe it's all three. Whatever it is, it's boring.

He can tell Vale is bored, too. Her posture is rigid, and her expression is tense. Every so often, she'll shift in her chair, her hand reaching for her wine glass, her lips wrapping around the rim, and he'll lose his train of thought. The movement is practiced, her movements slow and seductive, and he has no doubt that she's doing it on purpose.

She's a menace.

The senator sitting across from her, a man he can't remember the name of, is droning on about something, and Vale nods politely. Her gaze meets Thorn's, and her lips twitch, her eyes dancing with mischief. She licks her lips, and he sucks in a breath.

Karking hell.

Thorn shifts, his hands clasped behind his back, his fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm on his vambrace. Vale looks away, but not before her eyes roam over his body, and he's pretty sure that she's trying to kill him. He's not sure how much longer he can do this.

“Hey,” a voice whispers from the kitchen, and he turns his head slightly. Trina is standing in the doorway, gesturing for him. He glances back at Vale, but she's still absorbed in her conversation, and he moves toward the Twi'lek.

“Yeah?” he asks warily. She's been giving him weird looks all night, and he's not sure if she's plotting his murder or not. It's hard to tell with her.

She pulls him into the kitchen, and his stomach sinks. This is not a good sign.

She pushes him further into the room, and the staff members pause, looking up from their work. He's never been inside the kitchen before, and it's a lot nicer than he was expecting. It's huge, with counters and shelves lined with equipment that he's never seen before. A team of staff members are moving around the space, preparing and cooking the food, and the whole room smells amazing.

Trina leads him to a corner of the room, where the others can't hear, and his heart starts racing.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. He can't think of a single reason for him to be here. Unless Vale is hurt. Or worse.

"You're staring," she whispers, and his brow furrows.

"What?"

"You're staring," she repeats. "At Senator Ishani."

"I'm supposed to watch her," he replies, his voice thick. "It's my job."

"No, you're supposed to watch her _back_ ," she corrects, rolling her eyes. She steps around him and opens the fridge, rummaging through the contents. "Not her front."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mutters. He can feel the blush rising on his cheeks, and his armor suddenly feels too tight. "I'm just doing my job."

She pulls a covered plate out of the fridge and places it on the counter. Her head tilts to the side, a skeptical look on her face, and she gives him a once-over, her eyes narrowing.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying," he says, but his voice cracks.

"Yes, you are," she says. "And it's obvious."

"I'm not!" he exclaims, a little louder than he'd intended. He glances over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one else heard. "I'm not. I'm just doing my job, like the rest of the Guard."

“Are they as bad at lying as you are?” she asks dryly.

He frowns. She has a point. None of his brothers are particularly good liars, and Thorn has a bad habit of being too honest. It's one of the many reasons Fox doesn't trust him with any kind of covert missions, why he's the last choice for undercover work. But the idea that it's somehow obvious, that he can't hide his feelings, is disconcerting.

He tries to play it off, but his voice is strained when he says, "I'm not lying."

She gives him a pointed look, and he shifts uncomfortably, the silence stretching out between them. He looks at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but her, and the seconds drag on, the tension mounting. Finally, she sighs, and she lifts the lid off the plate, grabbing a fork and handing it to him.

"Here. Take this," she orders, pushing the plate towards him, and he takes it without thinking, the fork clutched tightly in his fist.

"Why?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"Because Senator Ishani asked me to," she tells him, a note of amusement in her voice. She looks him up and down. "She said you hadn't eaten, and she didn't want you to starve."

"Really?" He can't hide the surprise in his voice. Vale had mentioned that the meal would be simple, a few appetizers and a few choice selections, but nothing substantial, and he'd been expecting to wait until later to eat. The idea that she's concerned enough to have him brought a plate is...unexpected, and oddly touching.

"Yeah," she replies. "She said that you needed to keep your strength up. I didn't ask why."

Thorn feels the blush creep up his neck, his cheeks heating, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Oh, uh, right," he mumbles, his mind immediately going to all the different reasons why Vale might want him to keep his strength up. Reasons that have nothing to do with his duties as a member of the Coruscant Guard, and everything to do with what they'll be doing later.

"Right," she echoes, and her voice is thick with amusement.

He's tempted to walk out of the room, to ignore the fact that she knows, and the fact that she's obviously amused by the whole thing. But his stomach growls, the noise echoing loudly in the quiet kitchen, and he's reminded of the fact that he hasn't eaten since before his shift ended, nearly six hours ago. He'd skipped the mess hall, instead heading straight to Vale's apartment, and he'd been too nervous to think about food.

"Well, I should, uh, I should probably eat, then," he mutters, looking down at the plate.

"You probably should," she says. She leans back against the counter, a small smirk on her lips.

He glances over at the other staff, who’re all making an effort to appear busy, before he pulls off his helmet and sets it on the counter. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and he runs a hand through the curls, brushing them out of his face.

Trina studies him, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Huh. You're cute," she says, and he snorts.

"Thanks," he says dryly as he looks down at the plate in his hands. The food is a selection of cold appetizers, the same ones that were served at the start of the evening, and his mouth waters at the sight.

He's not used to having so many options, not when most of his meals consist of ration packs and protein slurries. This is a luxury, and one he doesn't often get to indulge in. Vale has been trying to change that, bringing him food, and treats, and even a cake, once, and it's nice, but he doesn't always have the time, or the appetite, for them.

He spears a piece of what he thinks is fish and pops it into his mouth, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Kriff, that's good."

"I know," Trina says smugly. "My cousin owns the place."

"It's amazing," he says around a mouthful. "Thank you."

She gives him a wry grin. "Don't thank me. Thank her."

He nods, looking over her shoulder at Vale, who's still engaged in her conversation, a polite smile on her face. Her gaze finds his, and the smile turns genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and he can't help but smile back. He gives her a wave, and she looks away, ducking her head, a blush staining her cheeks.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?" Trina asks, drawing his attention, and he nearly chokes on his food.

"W-what?" he sputters. He reaches for a glass of water on the counter and downs it, trying to regain his composure.

"How long have you and the Senator been sleeping together?" she asks, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and he almost chokes again.

"We're not—we haven't—" he splutters, his face flushing. He wants to say that they're not sleeping together, but the words won't come out, and the look she's giving him tells him that she's not buying it, anyway. "We're not seeing each other. I mean, not officially. Not really. We're just, uh, we're friends. Sort of. I think. Maybe."

He takes another bite, hoping to keep himself from rambling. He chews slowly, his gaze fixed on his plate, and when he finally looks up, Trina is staring at him, a bemused expression on her face.

"Huh," she murmurs. She leans against the counter, her fingers drumming on the granite. "Interesting."

"What is?"

"Nothing," she says, shaking her head, and her lekku sway behind her back. "Just...you really like her, don't you?"

He looks back at Vale, who's laughing at something someone said, her nose wrinkling. His heart aches, and he knows that his feelings are written all over his face. There's no use denying it, not to Trina, not to himself.

"Yeah," he admits, his voice soft. "I really, really do."

"That's good. She needs someone," she replies, her tone surprisingly sincere.

Thorn turns, studying her face. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes, and he can't help but wonder what she's thinking. She looks worried, her brow creased and her mouth set in a frown, and Thorn gets the sense that there's more to her concern than just his and Vale's relationship.

"Everything okay?" he asks quietly. “Is she okay?"

"No. I mean, yes. She's fine," she says quickly. She sighs, and her expression softens. "She's just...lonely. That's all."

"Lonely?"

"It's hard, being in her position," she says. She gestures around the kitchen. "All of this is hard. It's not fun. She has to put on a show, pretend to be someone she's not, just so people will like her. Just so they'll listen to her."

Thorn nods. He's seen it first-hand. He's seen the way she changes, the way she shifts, when she's speaking in the Senate, or at a conference, or at a dinner. She becomes something else, someone else, and it's not the person he knows. Or not the person he's starting to know. The one who laughs at his jokes, and steals his food, and smiles at him like he's the only thing that matters. The one he's falling in love with.

"She's been through a lot. More than most people," Trina continues. She glances back at Vale, who's now leaning forward, listening intently to a senator's rambling story. "And sometimes, it gets to her. She puts on a brave face, but it's hard."

"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice hesitant. He's not sure if he's allowed to ask, or if he's allowed to pry, and he's not sure how much he wants to know. But the urge to find out is too strong, and the words spill out before he can stop them.

She gives him a look. "Commander, how long have you known her?"

"About a year, give or take a few months," he answers, his voice unsure. It feels longer, and he's not sure when it happened. When he went from not knowing her to needing her. To wanting her.

"And in that time, has she ever mentioned her family?" she asks, and his stomach twists.

"No," he admits.

"Her childhood? Her past? Anything?"

He shakes his head, feeling a twinge of guilt. The truth is, he knows next to nothing about Vale's life. Sure, he knows her favorite foods, and her favorite holofilms, and her favorite music. He knows that she likes her caf black, and he knows that her favorite color is blue, and he knows that her birthday is in two weeks. But he doesn't know where she grew up, or what her parents were like, or anything else.

He doesn't know her. Not really. And it's not for lack of asking.

He's tried, many times, to get her to open up, but she's always managed to dodge the questions, or change the subject, or give him some non-answer. It's frustrating, and if he's honest, it hurts. He's bared his soul to her, told her things that he's never told anyone else, and yet, she still keeps him at arm's length.

"Not really," he tells her, his voice heavy with regret. "No."

She nods, as if she was expecting his answer, and a small, sad smile tugs at her lips.

"She doesn't have much left," she says softly. "Just me, and her job, and whatever this is."

She gestures between the two of them, and his throat tightens. Whatever this is.

"And you make her happy," she says, her voice firm, and her gaze flickers over his face. "So, don't screw it up."

He blinks, caught off-guard by the bluntness of her statement. "What?"

"Commander, I've known her for years, and I've never seen her smile as much as she has these last few weeks," she explains, a hint of warning in her tone. "So, whatever this is, whatever you're doing, just...don't screw it up."

"I wouldn't," he promises. He looks down at his plate, and his gaze flickers to Vale, who's laughing at something a senator said. "I would never."

"Good," she replies, nodding, and a faint smile crosses her lips. "Because, for what it's worth, I think you're good for her. And I think she's good for you. So just, be patient with her, alright? She'll come around. Just give her time."

"I will," he says. "For as long as she'll have me."

Trina lets out a laugh. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

“It’s hard not to,” he replies, unable to keep the defensiveness from his voice. He can't help it. Vale has a way of drawing him in, of making him want things he can't have. Of making him want her, and only her, and no one else. “When someone like her gives you their attention, it's hard not to fall in love with them."

Trina stares at him, and Thorn realizes, with a flash of horror, what he's just said.

"Uh, I mean," he stammers, his face flushing, and he takes a step back, bumping into the counter behind him. "I didn't—"

"Did you just say—"

"I said nothing," he interrupts quickly, his heart racing. He can feel the panic building, and his hands tremble as he reaches for his helmet, his mind scrambling for an excuse. For anything. "I didn't say anything."

"Right. Nothing," she replies, her expression a mixture of surprise and amusement, and Thorn wants nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear. "My lips are sealed."

"Yeah, well, it was just a figure of speech, you know, uh, a phrase, so, yeah," he mutters, and he's sure that his face is beet red by now. The implications of what he's just said are hitting him, and he's starting to panic. He can't believe he let that slip. He's going to get himself killed, and his brothers will probably laugh at his funeral.

Thorn tugs his helmet back on, letting out a sigh. This was a terrible idea. The whole thing. From start to finish.

"Thanks for the food," he mumbles, and Trina smirks.

"Sure. Anytime," she replies, her eyes sparkling, and Thorn turns away, walking out of the kitchen as quickly as he can without drawing attention.

The guests have moved into the living room, and the conversation has switched from business to gossip. The group is seated on the couches and chairs, the servers moving through the room, taking drink orders. Vale is sitting on the couch surrounded by a handful of senators and business owners, all vying for her attention. They're talking over each other, their voices overlapping and filling the room, and she's staring into her near-empty glass of wine, a bored expression on her face. Thorn can't blame her. There's nothing worse than listening to politicians try to one-up each other.

Trina steps into the middle of the group, holding the bottle of wine high above her head. "More wine, anyone?"

"Yes!" a few voices call out.

"Excellent," she says, grinning.

She refills everyone's glasses, and Thorn moves to stand next to the couch, his hands clasped behind his back. He can feel her eyes on him, but he doesn't dare meet her gaze, and he focuses his attention on the wall behind her, keeping his face carefully blank. He's not sure what to say, or how to act, and he's still not over his slip-up in the kitchen.

He doesn't even know if he's in love with her. All he knows is that he can't stop thinking about her, and he's missed her when they're apart, and the idea of her dating anyone else makes him sick. He can't stop himself from wondering if she's okay, and what she's doing, and who she's with. And he can't imagine a life without her.

But he's not sure that's the same thing.

Trina passes Vale a glass of wine, and her fingers brush against her hand. The gesture is subtle, a practiced movement, and Thorn knows it's a signal. But the effect is instantaneous, and he watches as she straightens, her posture perfect, her head held high. Her face transforms, the polite smile becoming genuine, and her eyes light up, the sparkle returning to her gaze.

Thorn has never seen anything like it. It's like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly, she's not the bored politician anymore. She's someone else, someone brighter, and Thorn has the strangest urge to protect her, to shield her from the crowd and their prying eyes, and their greedy hands. To wrap her in his arms and keep her safe, from them, from herself, and from anything else that might threaten to harm her.

“Senator, a moment please," he says, leaning over the back of the couch, and Vale tilts her head back, her eyes meeting his.

"What is it, Commander?"

"Can we speak in private for a moment?" he asks, his voice low, and she frowns, a hint of concern flashing across her face. "It's urgent."

"Oh," she murmurs, her mouth forming a perfect O. She sits up straighter, her brows furrowing, and Thorn knows she's trying to decide if she should play along or not. He nods, just a slight tilt of his head, and her lips twitch.

"Oh, alright," she says. She stands, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress, and flashes a smile at the group. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

"By all means, Senator," one of the politicians, an older man with a long, narrow face, says. "Please, attend to your duties. We'll be here when you return."

"Thank you, Senator," she replies, a sweet smile on her face. It doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll try not to be too long."

Thorn takes a step back, his hand resting on the hilt of his blaster, and Vale follows, a confused look on her face. He leads her to the balcony doors and opens them, holding them open for her before turning and shutting them firmly behind him. He doesn't want any distractions, and he doesn't want anyone interrupting them.

Vale moves away from him, leaning against the railing and looking out at the city, and Thorn lets out a breath. The night is warm, the air sticky and humid, and the noise from the city below drifts up towards them. It's surprisingly quiet, despite the sounds of traffic and chatter and music floating up to them, and for a moment, he just watches her.

He's still not entirely sure why he did it, why he interrupted her. He's not even sure what he wants to say. It's just a feeling, a nagging in the back of his mind, and a need to make sure she's okay.

"Everything alright?" she asks as she turns to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Her expression is carefully neutral, a perfect mask, and he can't help but wonder how many times she's had to pretend, had to lie, had to put on a show, all for the sake of being seen. He wonders if anyone's ever noticed, if anyone's ever asked. Or if they've all just assumed she's fine, that everything is okay, because why wouldn't it be? She's Senator Ishani.

He pauses, his hand still on the door, and checks to make sure that no one is watching. As soon as he's satisfied that no one is paying any attention, he walks over to her and pulls off his helmet.

Her eyes widen, and a slow smile spreads across her face. She doesn't try to hide her reaction, and it warms his heart.

"Hi," he says, his voice soft, and she lets out a sigh.

"Hi," she breathes.

He places his helmet on the table next to him and reaches for her hand. He tangles their fingers together, and her lips part, her cheeks turning pink. She looks up at him through her lashes, her gaze dark and heated, and he steps closer, crowding her against the railing.

"How's your night going?" he asks, his voice low, and her breath hitches.

"It's alright," she murmurs, her free hand settling on his chest plate.

"Yeah? Nothing interesting happening?"

"Nothing, really," she tells him, and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. "A lot of talking, a lot of wine. But it's a bit boring. How was the kitchen?"

"It was fine," he says, shrugging.

"Did you like the food? Trina's cousin is the head chef," she says, her voice light. She looks nervous, a slight tremor in her voice, and he squeezes her hand gently. "If there was anything you didn't like, you can let me know. I can talk to him, see if he can add something for next time."

"It was great," he assures her, his voice sincere, and a small smile crosses her face. "Really great. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that."

"It's the least I could do," she says, waving him off. "After all, I did drag you here against your will."

"You didn't drag me," he protests, his brow furrowing, and she arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. He lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of her palm. "I volunteered."

"Yeah, but not for this," she says, glancing back into the room through the sliver of a window in the door, where they can just make out the shapes of the guests inside. He can see the tension in her shoulders, the crease in her brow, and he runs his thumb along her knuckles. "I know how boring these things can be."

"You don't have to apologize, Vale," he tells her, and her eyes dart back to his. He reaches up with his free hand and caresses her cheek with his thumb, careful not to press hard enough to disturb her makeup. She leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and her hand wraps around his wrist. He leans down, his nose brushing against hers. "And I meant it. You're worth the wait."

She swallows hard, a shuddering breath escaping her lips, and Thorn can feel his heart hammering in his chest, the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

"What did you need to tell me?" she whispers, her breath ghosting across his face, and he fights the urge to kiss her, to throw her over his shoulder and take her upstairs, to hell with the dinner party and the guests and whatever the fuck else is happening right now.

"I..." he starts, but the words die on his lips.

_I needed to make sure you're okay. I needed to see you. I needed to make sure they weren't giving you a hard time. I wanted an excuse to talk to you. I needed to hold your hand. I need you._

"Are you okay?” he asks instead.

She blinks, surprise flickering across her face, and her lips part.

"Yeah. Why?" she asks, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Are you?"

He lets out a sigh. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"That doesn't sound convincing," she says. Her hand trails down his forearm and comes to rest on his waist, and he can feel the warmth of her palm through the plastoid. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just—" he starts, but he stops, not sure what to say. How can he tell her what Trina said without breaking her trust? How can he tell her how much he cares about her, without revealing too much? How can he make her see that he's right here, that he's not going anywhere, that he's not going to leave her?

He doesn't know.

"You just looked like you needed a break," he says, the lie slipping out before he can catch it. "That's all."

"I do need a break," she murmurs. She looks over his shoulder, at the door, and her lips twist. She lets out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know why I agreed to host this thing."

"Because it'll look good," he replies. He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and her eyes drift shut. He loves seeing her like this, unguarded and relaxed, and he wishes they were anywhere but here. "And because it'll help you get reelected."

She grimaces. "It's going to look like I'm trying to cozy up to the rich and powerful."

"Which you're not?" he teases.

"No, I am," she says, her nose wrinkling. She huffs and shakes her head. "It's a thin line, and I'm not always sure where it is. But sometimes, like tonight, it feels like I'm drowning in it."

He looks at her, the sadness in her eyes, the tiredness in her expression, and his stomach churns. He doesn't know much about the politics of the Senate, or the Republic, or even the Coruscant Guard, but he's learned that most people, even the good ones, are willing to compromise their values for their careers. But Vale isn't. And while it makes his job harder, and his life more complicated, it also makes him like her even more, if that's possible.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs, his hand moving down her neck and settling on her shoulder. He squeezes gently, his fingers digging into the tense muscles, and she lets out a soft groan.

“What are you sorry for?”

"That you have to do this. You deserve better," he says, his voice thick, and she lets out a breathy laugh.

"Well, aren't you sweet?" she says, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I'm serious," he says, and she meets his gaze, her eyes searching his face. He runs his thumb along her collarbone, a gentle caress, and she shivers. "Vale, if you need to leave, just say the word."

"You mean, skip my own dinner party?" she asks, a teasing note in her voice.

"If that's what you want," he replies, his voice firm, and her lips twitch. "If it'll make you happy."

"You would do that for me?"

"I would do anything for you," he says. The words come easily, falling from his lips like they've been waiting to be spoken. And maybe they have. He's not sure when he decided this, or when he knew, but he does. He knows.

Her eyes widen, surprise evident in her gaze, and her mouth drops open, a soft gasp escaping her. Thorn knows he's probably said too much, revealed too much, but he doesn't care. He's tired of hiding his feelings, of pretending he doesn't want her, doesn't need her, doesn't love her.

He's never been good at lying. Not to himself, and certainly not to others, and especially not to her.

She doesn't say anything, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant noise of the city, and the pounding of his heart. He can feel her staring at him, her gaze fixed on his face, and he holds his breath. Finally, she sighs and looks down.

"Well, that's not fair. Now I really want to leave," she says with a pout, and Thorn laughs, a weight lifting off his chest.

“Then let’s go. I’ll sneak you out,” he says, grinning. He leans down, his mouth inches from hers. "We'll have a whole night to ourselves."

"You can’t sneak me out of my own apartment," she protests, her eyes darting to his lips. "And I have a dinner party to host."

"Sure, I can. Come on. You've spent enough time with these people," he says. He glances back inside. The party is still in full swing, and no one seems to have noticed that they're gone. "You've made your rounds, and you've played host. And I know you'd rather be anywhere else right now. So let's go."

"And where would we go, Commander?" she asks. She reaches up and wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His arm wraps around her waist, and she smirks. "Back to your barracks? So you can show me your bed?"

"I would, yeah," he growls.

He pulls her flush against him, his grip tightening on her waist. She lets out a little gasp, and he presses his face to her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent surrounds him, filling his nose, and his eyes flutter shut, his mouth watering at the thought of kissing her, touching her, tasting her.

"And what would you do to me there?" she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching in his blacks.

"What wouldn't I do?" he rasps. He presses a kiss to her pulse point, his lips trailing along her skin, and she tilts her head back, her body going lax in his arms. His teeth scrape against her collarbone, and she shudders, her nails digging into his scalp. "I'd show you how good I can be. How well I can take care of you."

She lets out a little whimper, her eyes fluttering shut.

"You would, huh?" she murmurs, her breath hitching as he trails his lips down across the tops of her breasts, his tongue dipping into the valley between them. "You think you can make me feel good?"

"I know I can," he replies, his voice confident. His hand slides down her body, coming to rest on her ass, and he squeezes, eliciting a surprised squeal from her. She lets out a giggle, and his lips twitch. “If you'll let me."

"You're not going to distract me with sex, Commander," she whispers. She runs her hands down his chest, her fingertips tracing over his armor, and she pats his breastplate. "I'm a professional."

"Me too. And I don't mix business with pleasure," he replies, smirking. He leans down and presses his lips to hers, a gentle, chaste kiss that makes her let out a small noise of frustration. "Unless my charge gives me permission, that is."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yep," he says, popping the 'p'. He pulls back, looking down at her. "So are you going to let me have you, Senator?"

Her eyes lock onto his, and he feels his breath catch. Her expression is open and vulnerable, the dark pools of her irises glittering with want, and her lips part. For the first time since they met, she looks unsure, her usual confidence missing, and Thorn knows it's a big step. It's a risk, a dangerous one, and the choice is hers.

He can't take it for her, and he can't make it for her, and he would never force her to do something she's not ready for. All he can do is ask, and wait, and hope.

"Yes, Thorn. You can have me," she whispers.

His heart skips a beat.

She said his name.

_His_ name. Not his rank, or his designation, but his name. Like it's something precious, like it's something sacred, like it's something that's just hers. It's not the first time, but it feels different. More meaningful. More intimate, like a promise, a commitment.

It's everything.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hoarse, and she nods, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she says. Her hand finds his and squeezes gently, her touch warm and reassuring. “But I can’t leave. Not yet. So if we could just..."

He nods, understanding immediately. "Want me to take care of you?"

"Would you?" she asks, her cheeks turning pink. "I wouldn't ask, but—"

"Hey," he interrupts, lifting her chin with his finger. Her gaze flits between his, and he can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the worry that he'll say no. But the last thing he wants to do is deny her. Not when she's been so good to him. "Of course, I will. Always. All you have to do is ask."

She smiles. It's a shy, tentative smile, and it's one he hasn't seen before. She's always confident, always sure of herself, but there's something different about this smile. It's not the smile of a senator, or a politician, or a socialite. It's the smile of a woman who's just as scared and nervous as he is.

"Okay," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Okay. That would, um, that would be great. Thank you."

He nods, letting out a soft laugh, and his hands drop to her hips. He lifts her easily, turning and backing her up against the wall next to the door, and her breath hitches. His hands move down, his palms brushing against her thighs, and she lets out a quiet gasp.

"Thorn," she whispers.

"I got you, baby," he says, his voice low and soothing. He reaches for the hem of her dress and pushes it up, his fingertips grazing over her skin. He can feel her shiver, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Just relax."

He drops to his knees, ignoring the twinge of pain in his back and the ache in his joints, and he nudges her legs apart. She spreads them, letting him settle between them, and he looks up at her.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his hand sliding up her inner thigh. He has half a mind to remove his gloves, but the other half, the hornier half, is too impatient to bother. "Can you keep quiet for me?"

"Yes," she breathes, her head tilting back and her eyes fluttering shut. "Yes, sir."

The words send a jolt through him, and he presses his forehead against her thigh, a shuddering breath escaping him. She knows how much he likes that, how much it affects him, and she's not afraid to use it against him. And she knows that if he's not careful, he's going to end up making a mess of his blacks and be forced to spend the rest of the night uncomfortable and frustrated.

"Kriff, baby, you can't say things like that," he mutters, and she lets out a husky chuckle.

"Why not?"

He gives her a light swat on her thigh, and her laughter turns into a squeak.

"Because I can't concentrate," he grumbles, his voice thick, and he rubs the spot where he struck her, his thumb drawing small circles over the red mark that's already forming. He wants to kiss it, wants to lick and suck and bite, but now's not the time. He has other priorities.

Thorn grabs the waistband of her underwear, yanking them down and letting them pool around her ankles. He lifts one foot, then the other, helping her step out of them, and he tucks the black lace into the pouch on his belt. She looks at him, a hint of surprise in her expression, and he grins.

"Commander, are you—"

"Shh," he hushes her as he leans in, his breath hot on her thigh, his hands tugging her dress up and baring her pussy. She squirms, her hips bucking slightly, and he rests his hands on her thighs, holding her still. "Don't move."

"Don't shush me," she says, her voice strained. “I—“

Vale lets out a soft cry as he presses his lips to her, his tongue slipping between her folds. The fabric of her dress falls back over his shoulders as his hands slide up her legs, and he wraps his arms around her thighs, holding her still. She tastes sweet and tangy, and a low growl escapes his throat as he buries his face in her cunt, his tongue darting out to lick and tease and taste her.

"Kriff, Thorn," she moans. He hums, and she shivers, her body going rigid. "Yes."

He pulls her closer, his fingers digging into the pliant flesh of her thighs, and he laps at her clit, slow, languid strokes that have her gasping for air. He can hear the muffled sounds of the dinner party through the doors, and he's reminded of where they are, of who she is, and how many people would disapprove of her being caught like this, with a member of the Coruscant Guard buried between her legs. It makes him feel powerful, in a way, and he can't help but smirk against her, a swell of pride rising in his chest.

"Fuck, you're good at that," she breathes, her fingers threading through his curls, and his eyes roll back in his head.

He loves doing this, and he especially loves doing it for her. He loves the way she squirms, the way she whines, and the way her hips jerk against his mouth. He loves how wet she gets, and how she moans his name, and how she pulls his hair.

But most of all, he loves that he's the only one who gets to see her like this. The only one who gets to hear her, the only one who gets to feel her, the only one who gets to taste her. The thought alone makes him harder, and he's half tempted to pull her down onto his lap and bury himself inside her.

But he's determined to do this for her, to bring her the pleasure she deserves, and nothing more. And as soon as the party is over, he's going to take her upstairs, and they're going to finish what they started.

He pulls away, his nose rubbing against her clit, and she groans, her thighs trembling.

"Oh, fuck," she whispers.

"Yeah? You like that?" he murmurs, nuzzling her. He glances up at her, and his breath catches. Her head is tilted back, her eyes shut, and her chest is heaving, her breasts threatening to spill out of her dress. Her mouth is hanging open, a moan falling from her lips, and his cock throbs, his balls aching. "You look so pretty like this, baby."

"Shut up," she pants, and he chuckles. Her hand rests on the back of his neck, urging him closer, and her hips rock forward, grinding against his face. "Keep going."

He obeys, his tongue returning to her clit. He alternates between soft, slow licks and hard, rough ones, and she lets out a choked gasp, her grip tightening in his hair.

"F-faster," she pleads, her voice shaking. "Please. Thorn."

"Whatever you want," he breathes, and he dives back in, his tongue circling her clit, the tip teasing and flicking and rubbing. Her legs begin to tremble, and she grinds against his face, her hand clutching the back of his neck. He’s forced to tighten his grip on her thighs, holding her in place, and a low moan escapes her.

"So good," she groans, and he pulls her closer, his mouth latched onto her clit. "You're so good."

He can't help but preen a little. He loves her praise, loves the way it makes him feel, the way it fills his chest with warmth. She doesn't give it easily, and he cherishes it, savoring the words like a fine wine.

She tugs at his hair, and a strangled moan rises in his throat. He's painfully hard now, his cock straining against his blacks, and he's grateful for the layer of plastoid covering his arousal. But the friction is torturous, and he rocks his hips, rubbing himself against the inside of his leg.

"Oh, shit," she breathes, and he realizes she can see him, can see his hand wrapped around her thigh, his hips jerking. She lets out a shaky laugh. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Fuck yeah, I am," he mumbles against her. His eyes flicker up to hers, and she bites her lip. "Are you?"

She nods, her eyes locked onto his, and he grins.

"Good," he whispers.

He sucks her clit between his lips, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud, and she whimpers, her back arching. He can feel her body stiffen, and her breathing grows ragged, her chest heaving. She's close, he can tell, and he redoubles his efforts, his tongue swirling and teasing and lapping at her, his nose bumping against her clit with every pass.

"I'm...I'm..." she chokes out, her words fading into a groan, and he can feel her shaking, her muscles tightening.

She comes with a shudder, her legs threatening to buckle, and Thorn holds her steady, his hands gripping her hips. She slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, and he keeps licking, his tongue dipping between her folds. He can feel her pulsing under his tongue, her pussy clenching around nothing, and he lets out a low moan, his cock throbbing.

He doesn't stop until she's stopped trembling, and he pulls away, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. He presses a gentle kiss to her clit, and she squeaks, a shiver running through her.

"There. That should hold you for a while," he says. He sits back on his heels, looking up at her.

Her chest is still heaving, her breasts threatening to spill out of her dress, and her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted. Her head rolls back, and her eyes flutter open, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. She looks gorgeous, thoroughly fucked and satisfied, and Thorn has never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

She lets out a breathless, shaky laugh, and Thorn can't help but join her.

"Good?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Mhm," she mumbles, and her hand moves from his neck to his head. She runs her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down as his lips press a trail of soft kisses along her thigh. "Really, really good."

"Glad to hear it," he murmurs.

"You're good," she says, a soft giggle escaping her. She's still breathing hard, her chest rising and falling, and her eyes are glassy. "Too good."

"Nah," he says, his tone playful. He gives her hip a light squeeze and rises, his knees cracking as he straightens. He adjusts her dress, pulling it down and smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'm just trying to impress you."

"Consider me impressed," she replies, smirking.

She leans in and presses a kiss to his jaw, and his eyes close, a soft sigh escaping him. Her hands find his belt, and he watches her, his heart pounding.

"Let me—"

"No," he says, his voice firm. He grips her wrist, stopping her, and she blinks, her eyes wide. "You don't have to do that."

"But you're..." she starts, and he shakes his head.

"I'm fine," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He releases her hand, and she looks down, her cheeks turning pink. "Hey. Look at me."

She lifts her gaze, meeting his, and he smiles.

"We're good, right?" he asks, his voice soft. He lifts his hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek.

She nods. "Yeah. We're good."

"Okay. Then I'm okay. More than okay. Really," he assures her, and she swallows, a frown tugging at her lips. "Hey, none of that. None of that sadness. Or guilt. Or whatever that look is. Okay?"

"Okay," she says. Her lips curve into a smile, but there's a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "I just feel bad."

"Well, don't," he tells her. He reaches down and takes her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. "I don't. Trust me, baby. This is the highlight of my day."

She laughs, a bright, bubbly sound that makes his chest swell with pride. "Highlight, huh?"

"Yeah. Definitely," he says, grinning. "You look amazing, by the way. Really beautiful. Did I tell you that already?"

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up. You're a flatterer."

"Nope. Just being honest," he says, his eyes drifting over her body. "Seriously. I'm the luckiest guy in the world right now."

“Stop,” she whines.

"Nah. It's true," he replies. He looks back at the door, where the muffled sounds of conversation can still be heard, and lets out a sigh. "As much as I want to stay here and keep you all to myself, I think you need to get back. Before they miss you."

"Right. Yeah," she says. She steps away, straightening her dress.

Thorn reaches up and fixes her hair, his hands moving deftly. It takes him a moment, but he manages to get it mostly back in place. She smooths out the front of her dress and adjusts her cleavage, and he lets out a small, appreciative hum. He picks up his helmet, turning it so she can see her reflection in the visor, and she wipes the smeared lipstick at the corner of her mouth before giving him a grateful smile.

"Okay. Ready?" he asks, and she gives a reluctant nod.

She steps towards the balcony doors, pausing and turning back to him. Her brow is furrowed, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth.

"Um, Thorn?"

"Yeah, baby?"

“Can I have my underwear back?"

He smirks as he tugs his helmet back on. The taste and smell of her linger on his tongue, and he licks his lips, savoring the sweetness. He'll be breathing in her scent for the rest of the night, and the thought alone makes him giddy, his cock twitching in his blacks.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and deep. He pulls his blaster out, checking the charge, and gestures towards the balcony doors. "I want you thinking about what I'm going to do to you later."

Her eyes widen, and a blush creeps up her neck, turning her skin a pretty shade of pink. "And what's that, Commander?"

He holsters his blaster and looks at her. "Everything."