#thorne is a good bodyguard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lavendermin · 22 days ago

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collar of thorns | blade

blade x reader, fem reader, bodyguard au

wc | 5.1k

genre | hurt and (a tiny bit of) comfort, nsfw, minors do not interact

warnings | implied toxic family dynamics, unhealthy dependency, brief previous torture mention, panic attacks, trauma, blood and brief violence, nudity, blade uses a shower head to get you off (if there’s a term for this lmk I’m drawing a blank rn)

note | mwah thank you to the bestest @nashusglasses for beta reading this 💗 this was supposed to be at most 2k but well… here we are ^^; love blade’s quiet but gentle girldad vibe with the stellaron hunters so this is a loose interpretation of that in a bodyguard au. very self indulgent with a sprinkle of comfort and mostly exploring their dynamics of an evolving relationship

His calculated actions are a conversation—one you have learned to follow, though not without a learning curve. Even in silence there’s more he tells you with a glance alone than words ever could.

It’s experience that Blade has accumulated as your bodyguard for quite a few years. No stranger to your mannerisms and higher quality of life coming from a family with powerful connections and flaunted status.

He knows you well, in his opinion. Head held high but a frail little thing weak in the knees from utter fear and paranoia. Pitiful, he thinks. Like a field mouse braving the jaws of a beast.

Despite being the black sheep of a renowned family, you’re no less a target as a vessel of valuable knowledge— information that some would go to great lengths to gain. No cost is too great, risk and reward leading many astray. Ultimately, it pulls you closer to unraveling. Time and time again.

—

There is protest— displeasure from attendants that arrive on behalf of the main family estate. You aren’t meant to be seen like this— bedridden and flawed and vulnerable.

The instruction was to wait. Wait until you have healed and could properly make yourself presentable. To save your family face, above all else.

But it’s your house, your rules.

The attendant continues to talk your ear off about why this is egregious and why the meeting should be postponed until months later when you’ve healed. It’s what the family ordered.

They might as well have ordered you dead, too. In your current state you’re no different than a deer in an open meadow, a thousand triggers waiting to be pulled.

“No.” Your gaze is blank as you side-eye the attendant by your bedside. “I want him to see— see exactly what my father signed him up for. If he is to be my guard, then he has to be able to handle all aspects of my life. What good is he to me if the unsightly is just that and nothing more?”

The attendant opens their mouth to oppose, but is interrupted by a knock on your room’s door as another attendant exchanges a hushed message. Upon their departure a tall figure is allowed inside— dark, silent.

Heavy is the atmosphere as he stands before you with an air that you can’t quite read. Blade, his name that was briefly provided by your father’s informant days prior.

“The family extends its gratitude for your gracious courtesy to meet with me on such short notice. Things haven’t been going as smoothly as my father would like. And that man does not trust me whatsoever to keep my mouth shut if the worst should happen.” You mutter something bitterly that Blade chooses not to dwell on. Sleepless paranoia has taken quite the toll on you. The dark circles under your eyes are quite unbecoming, though he doesn’t comment on it.

It’s none of his business— not until you tell him it is. Your word now commands him from the second he stepped into the room.

Blade sits across from you in a leather chair, unreadable with a rather guarded posture. His employer’s daughter— his task— is both what he expects and doesn’t expect.

There is a fear that keeps you alive and a defeat that splits your soul. A cacophony of unrest, a cocktail for an isolated soul.

“As you can see, he’s sorely mistaken,” you snort, dry and humorless. The days worth of agony are neatly dressed in gauze and fresh bandages, well on their way to become a blur of many such incidents to come. A recent incident— torture for information, he can only assume. “Regardless, my life is in your hands now.”

Blade nods, a simple acknowledgement. How easily he accepts to be by your side until your final breath.

“More than your duty,” you continue, “you are my trusted companion. My only companion.”

___

There’s little intel Blade could gather on attempts at your life, but that matters less to him from the second he’s hired. Those attempts would not prove successful, at whatever cost. They would only diminish further the longer he was your guard.

Duty-bound and distanced, he does not bother asking further about your past, and neither do you. You know he wouldn’t answer, and you’ve tried.

As a victim of circumstance, you are hard to blame.

Casual conversation is one-sided—a condition you’ve grown accustomed to. The microscopic changes of expression he allows are often response enough for you to carry conversation. You’ve long since stopped thinking too hard about it. No use breaking your heart over minor inconveniences like a petulant, rich brat.

In fact, not once have you heard him speak in your presence. Doesn’t need to, you think.

It’s easier to think that perhaps he holds resentment or dislikes his duty of protecting you. The lack of verbal conversation is often key to that. But Blade is very good at what he does—skilled in the art of reading people with a glance. His gentle gestures despite a blank, forlorn expression speak to the heart. Your heart.

It’s easy— liking him.

“There’s a restaurant that was highly recommended to me. Word of mouth from one of the Iris Family members during last month’s meeting,” you start casually. Sleep is just freshly rubbed from your eyes that morning.

Blade doesn’t respond, as expected, his hands steadily occupied with brushing your hair. Always gentle. More patient than you who yanks at any knots that form. You prefer it when he does it, liking the feeling of little jolts of electricity down your spine at the intimate action. It calms your nerves, he’s noted.

So, he indulges you.

There’s hesitance in your fidgeting hands as you peek at him through the vanity mirror from under your lashes. It easily betrays the stern facade you try to enact. You try your luck anyway. “It looked promising and would be a nice change of pace. I would like to try it out.”

Silence. His hand stills and his gaze is rather cold as he meets your eye. The air in the room shifts, a thick tension that’s palpable. You don’t even flinch.

“Bad idea, I take it. Well, I have an errand in the area regardless— the Oak Family contacted us not long ago and I’m being issued as the initial contact for a new business discussion. It would be an ideal use of our time if we can still pick up some food to bring back afterward.”

His hands resume their brushing, burning-red gaze now a dulled crimson as he focuses on not pulling your hair. A better idea, you take it, as he seems to relent to your veiled suggestion with a quiet sigh. The only clear sign you’ve learned means you won him over.

Blade knows well that you look for little ways to get some wiggle room of normalcy. You’ve never gotten used to this caged-bird life, bound to fear what lies beyond the golden enclosure of silk and honey. Perhaps he pities your cries, like birdsong that longs for a life that doesn’t suffocate you— a life that doesn’t hinge on every day and every interaction being a gamble.

If there is even a fraction of an illusion of that for you, he will turn a blind eye and let you lie to yourself. A moment is enough to soothe your aching heart.

Later in the day you depart for the city. A distraught feeling sits in the pit of your belly. An omen brought by a spike in anxiety that you force out of mind as Blade opens the passenger door for you.

It’s a silent ride across several towns to the location indicated. There’s doubt that gnaws at the back of your mind. Something didn’t seem right with the person that contacted you with the location details for this conference between families. You’ve become much too aware that you’re viewed as an expendable pawn of the family.

But, you’re sure Robin will be there. And a familiar face is just what you need for this to be less of a drag.

Blade seems to sense your hesitance. Wordlessly, he turns on the radio. You worry too much, he seems to criticize with the action. It helps all the same.

But… your spirits seem lighter, more optimistic. A moment of normalcy as you tune out and look out the window at passing city lights and a sun slowly tucking away behind never ending buildings. You’re a person, then.

Even if only briefly.

____

They say a common phenomenon occurs that allows you to register one small, redundant detail when in a state of sudden shock. And you remember it then, clear as day.

7:59 PM.

The time on your cracked phone screen just inches away from you.

The smell of iron and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. None of it registered quick enough before Blade yanked you harshly out of the way.

And yelling. Muffled and harsh.

Your body is cold with fear, frozen stiff in place. It’s a feeling you haven’t felt since you were a child.

You struggle to get back onto your feet, cowering back toward the alley wall. It gets harder to breathe as panic sets in when your eyes spot Blade clutching his side.

The situation deteriorates further, every passing second a blur of struggle and dark figures. It feels like every emotion is going to burst out of you in a scream. It’s an out-of-body experience, as if you’re watching your own body act on its own trying to put itself between Blade and the attackers.

“Don’t,” he commands—harsher still with urgency. “Stop.”

You freeze at the foreign sound of his voice. There’s no time to process it as crimson seeps through the fresh wound on his side.

You keep hearing his muffled voice tell you to run, run away. Through the pounding in your ears of adrenaline and fear you realize that’s your voice. Hoarse and frantically yelling, pleading for him to run away— you’re hurt, don’t fight anymore.

The rest is a blur as Blade drags you out of the alley, through crowds of nightlife and shoves you into the car. There’s no way of knowing if the pursuit was hot on your tails. It’s a risk Blade could not afford in his current state.

Your mind is numb with fear during the entire process. Every jolt from the roads he speeds through shoots pain through his body— a bloody manifestation of his inadequacy. He hisses and clutches his side, forced to drive with one hand. The sound tears you from your daze for a moment but forces you to experience the present.

There’s red on your hands, your clothes. The smell of iron is putrid as you desperately try to control your breathing. Bile is at your throat and you choke back a sob, like a pitiful kicked dog. You can’t afford to freak out right now and make things worse.

It’s disjointed how your body reacts compared to your mind. You’ve been through worse. You know that. This comfortable life laying low with your bodyguard has spoiled you. He has spoiled you. Your heart is merely a soft pearl now, layers of disjointed affections received and perceived through his tenderness. The base instinct overwrites everything else— all logic, all experience.

This is not normal, it reasons. This shouldn’t be normal.

You want desperately to silence the mind.

The car comes to a slow stop after miles of non-stop driving, and you’re painfully aware of the trembling in your hands. Though you try to hide them by folding them onto your lap, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Blade’s hand, calloused and marred with drying red, is steady as it closes over your fist. It commands your attention and the lump at your throat threatens to rip a sob from you.

It’s alright now, his piercing red eyes tell you. There’s a tenderness that comes through while his thumb rubs your knuckles to ease your anxiety. He lets his head fall back onto the headrest, a bitter chuckle filling the rigid silence.

Your voice trembles, breathy as it breaks with the urge to cry. “They could have killed you.”

Blade exhales through his nose, eyes still closed as he processes your distress.

“I’m expendable. You must live.” His tone is even, detached. It lacks the usual twinge of warmth and care. It’s as if he’s reading something scripted instead— attempting to avoid overstepping.

“You’re being dishonest with me. That’s not what you want to say. I–”

Your mouth presses into a thin line, his hand squeezing yours.

“I know my father sent them.” There isn’t even hurt in your voice, but a steady bitterness begins to burn at the hearth of your soul. It was high time they deemed you more of a liability than an actual member of the family. You shake your head, and with a deep breath you steady your nerves as best as you can. “That matters less right now. Let's get you cleaned up.”

Staying the night at a hotel much too far from home is less than ideal, but you’re aware Blade won’t risk walking right into another ambush that may be waiting at your doorstep. Best not to compromise the situation further.

Despite the tremble of your lip, your hands are steady and efficient as they work to help clean his wounds. You jolt as your phone vibrates with an incoming call, apologizing as you excuse yourself to the balcony. Blade quietly finishes dressing the cleaned wound on his side. He listens intently as you speak with an Oak Family member on the phone, quickly and quietly.

“No, no. We are safe now. Please keep alert. My contact sent you all available surveillance footage of the area shortly after we departed. We can discuss this further once I look into it. On behalf of,” you pause, a strain on your voice before you compose yourself, “on behalf of the family I apologize for the inconvenience. Thank you, Robin.”

Blade watches you intently from the side. There’s a facade of calm you’re trying desperately to keep up. Perhaps it’s the ‘fight or flight’ that’s still keeping you whole right now. For now, he keeps a close watch over you, every microexpression, every fidget.

There’s hesitance as his left palm rests on the bed. It doesn’t escape your detection as you close the sliding door.

“Give me your hand.” A beat and he relents, red gaze as intense as ever as he watches you kneel before him in silence. “You’re hurt here, too.”

He grunts as if inconvenienced, but lets you do as you please. Indulges you— always does.

With a patient crimson gaze, he observes you. Your heart has never felt so vulnerable than right now.

“It’s not perfect, and I’m no doctor, but…” You pause to look over your work.

Despite trembling hands and less-than-elegant bandaging, you gently bring his knuckles to your lips and press a kiss to each one. A childish gesture he didn’t see you as the type to do. That surely in your naive heart you believe a kiss will make it better— despite the blood and bruises.

And Blade— doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t stop you.

How selfishly he lets your heart devour him.

He gives a silent thanks and moves to sit away from you, making home on the couch with a wince as he adjusts to lay down. The lights are off now, save for your bedside lamp.

Even in the warmth of the lamplight, the feeling of being cold and isolated persists. Alone at the edge of the bed. You want to be selfish and order him to sleep on a proper bed— near you for your peace of mind.

Sleep, he tells you wordlessly with a glance. It’s been a long day.

You worry your lip all the same, seated at the edge of your bedside. Unmoving, tense— your mind reels, replaying the same thing over and over.

7:59 PM.

When the weapon just grazed over his heart and instead hit his side. When the smell of iron, cursed with beautiful crimson, nauseated you.

In the dark, your eyes adjust and watch as Blade’s breathing slows with sleep. It’s not normal— his breathing. The wrappings will only do so much while the pain persists. But by morning, the scar will be there, as if it had always been there. You don’t dare ask the details of why.

He’s spoiled you, surely. A comfortable life in his hands has made you soft. And you know this to be true, otherwise this attempt at your life would be nothing but another occurrence you hardly bat an eye to.

The gentleness he grants you unravels you faster.

No matter how close Blade is, you’re always alone. Even so, you choose to stay within his shadow. It’s warm— always warm.

And you crave him. Crave him in ways you should not entertain.

You don’t sleep much that night. The attempts on your life are few in recent years, but even more rare is successful bloodshed. The more dire incidents leave your nerves fried, a heavy pounding in your chest as adrenaline leaves your body tense and sleepless. Even with Blade’s watchful gaze keeping you safe, knowing he’s been injured by your carelessness only leaves you waking with a strangled gasp from guilt-ridden nightmares every hour.

The room is foreign as you try to adjust your sight to the dark bathed in a sliver of moonlight from a crack in the hotel room’s curtains.

This bed is not yours, this room is not yours. It’s not home, and this isn’t normal. The target is hot on your back— always under someone’s watchful eye. Never able to take a full breath without gasping and clawing at the anxiety closing its hands around your throat.

Your throat feels tight the more you think. In the dark, faces seem to morph into the details on the ceiling— mocking and shifting. All you can do is think in circles, worry your lips raw.

When you look over, you can just barely make out Blade’s dark figure laid on the sofa across from you. The bandages wrapped on his torso are salt in the wound as the guilt claws at your throat once more. Tears sting your eyes as the stress of it all finally reaches a breaking point.

The clock reads midnight as you tiptoe to the bathroom.

The bathwater is just short of scalding when you step in. The feeling doesn’t even phase you, a welcome sensation as the steam surrounds you. Its temperature is a welcoming hug melting your stresses away little by little as you work your fingers into your tense shoulders. A sniffle here and there, shaky breaths accompanied by the sweet melodies of tears breaking the water’s surface.

For a while, you sit idly, watching water from the leaky faucet drip. With each drop, the echoing sound clears your mind and centers you.

Deep breath, hold it. Exhale. Repeat.

The door to the bathroom clicks open, heavy footsteps trailing in.

“I already knew you were awake, but I wish you would rest,” you mutter into your knees as you shrink into yourself.

He sits at the edge of the tub. Formality is left at the door, for your sake. You have nothing to hide from him, anyway. The flesh is nothing to hide, and you’re more ashamed to let his eyes gaze upon the want in your soul. Ugly and wretched.

“You care for me,” is all Blade says in the quiet echo of the bathroom. “Don’t.”

The silence that follows seeps into the water that is no longer warm. Your body sinks lower into the tub until your nose is just above the water. Heat sears the tips of your ears.

The pounding of your heart is deafening, louder still as his presence engulfs your senses.

You feel foolish and naive and your bones are tired of being within your flesh. Bound to carry a fool like you through every mistake.

The sound of water draining doesn’t faze you. He’s decided this is less healing than you wallowing in self-pity. It won’t do you any good. Believing him is easier when you’d rather not think.

You sit up and keep your gaze glued to the surface of the water. Not unable to meet his gaze— refusing to— as his words weigh heavy on your heart.

You would rather he squeeze your heart— drink it dry of the lifeblood that keeps it pumping. Maybe this isn’t love. Or isn’t what you need.

But you will yourself to not care. Have to.

Blade taps your shoulder, urging you to stand before you catch a cold the longer you stay in the lukewarm water. He sighs quietly when you shake your head petulantly.

You finally speak— a quiet, frail thing as your voice trembles ever so slightly. “You’re wrong. It’s more.”

The water sloshes and spills over the sides as you turn your body around. Your eyes meet full, crimson moons, and your heart remains strangely steady. Uncertainty claws at your nerves until they fray like ribbons.

The draining water weighs in the forefront of your mind like an hourglass waiting for your next move. And with each second his eyes crumble your resolve, seeing through you— peering into the soul of a frail little thing like you. He waits patiently for your next gamble.

You lean up, lips pressing against his. A forlorn warmth.

Not pushed away, not stopped. Blade indulges you. Always does.

A wordless answer.

“You don’t like it, but I love you,” you mutter against his lips when you pull away. “That won’t change easily.”

“I never said I don’t like it.”

You can’t meet his eyes when your fingers silently trace the bandage wrappings around his bare torso.

“It eats me alive to see you get hurt. I know it’s your job, but… I can still be a fool in love. Can’t I?”

When you chase his lips again, your body shivers. It’s difficult to tell if that comes as a result from the harsh, cold porcelain of the empty tub or his teeth sinking into your lip.

The water is running again when Blade pushes you away, your eyes unfocused and glassy. He makes your heart ache. You have yet to decide if it’s in a good way or a bad way.

“Is it pity?” you ask quietly. “The reason you kissed back?” There’s distress and hurt in your voice as Blade falls into routine, moving you about like a doll to finish what you inevitably will not.

No response. For once, you can’t read him.

Blade works silently as he runs hot water over your body with that delicate gentleness that has your heart yearning and longing for him to be forced into what you need. You swallow the greed— the selfishness— and tear out the vitals of that ugly beast before you go mad if he leaves.

Your back is to him as he uses the shower head to get the last remaining suds out of your hair. It pulls your focus for a moment, the feeling pleasant and distracting. Methods he already knows to soothe your tumultuous mind.

The water runs and he turns you around. The bandages around his torso are damp by now, your lingering gaze focusing on them as he finishes rinsing you in silence. The myriad of scars adorning his arms and torso bring a heavy feeling to your chest. You will the vile feeling away and focus on his fingers gently lathering up your hair. Keeping you sat makes the task more difficult— you know this. But the attention makes your heart lighter all the same.

Selfish. The thought brands itself on your back like a hot iron.

The water runs and runs along your thigh with a light pressure as he abandons the shower head and tilts your face up to finally look at him. His gaze is intense— worried in the way he searches your crestfallen expression. You’re sure you look pathetic like this, disappointment on your face.

But he kisses you.

Blade leans down and kisses you. Of his own volition, now, and it's soft and warm. So warm it singes the edges of the isolation that consumes you. And for a moment, salvation is what you feel.

“You’re stubborn,” he says, his breath warm as it fans your face. “I enjoy it. That’s my answer.”

You can’t help the pout on your lips. It pulls a hum of amusement from him.

“Enjoying the demise of my heart. You’re cruel.”

Your words have no bite. A ghost of a smile graces his lips and it brings a rush of emotion to your already starving heart.

Because you don’t know it, but he craves you. Fondly but desperately.

Where your family has thrown you to the side, he will hold you close. A greed of his own he has to battle— keep focused so it won’t consume him. So he won’t devour you whole.

A shiver runs through your body as he coaxes you back into the tub, and you think for a moment he’s back to keeping you at an arm’s length again. The cold of the porcelain is harsh on your back. You retain some shame, at least, and you go to cover your chest. It’s the feeling of being a lamb before the slaughter, pristine and loved.

“Sit still,” Blade commands, voice smooth and an octave lower as his arm pushes one of your legs apart to prop on the edge of the tub.

It's a welcome initiative that makes your face warm with a sudden meekness. You’re exposed and surely getting slick by the second with arousal dripping down your inner thigh. Spread and completely bare.

Your chest rises and falls at a quickening pace and you whimper in anticipation. Blade watches you almost curiously, as if he’s never heard these pathetic little sounds from your lips. There’s little that hasn’t been shared between you two with his intimate work as your bodyguard. His presence has been by your side nearly twenty four hours a day every day for the past few years. Still, this is a new low he is taking on with you.

Indulging you. Like he always does.

This is an inevitable shift in your relationship— one that has long since strayed from a purely professional stance. It never suited you both, at least that’s what you like to think.

His gaze like blood is trained onto your expression— every shift, every change, every wince. He wants to see them all, sear them into his memory like tomorrow isn’t promised.

Your body jolts and an obscene moan you can't manage to hold back bubbles up your throat as he holds the shower head just over your slick cunt. The water runs with a constant pressure that feels odd and overwhelmingly good. But your moans are much too loud, much too desperate. With a click, the flow changes and he rips a sharp gasp out of you as he aims the water at your throbbing clit.

Your body is thrashing, squirming against the porcelain but you don’t have it in you to tell him to stop. You don’t want him to stop. But this feeling is not him, and you want to be selfish and have him take all that remains. To have him take and take and fill and put you back together after he breaks you into irreplaceable pieces.

The squeeze of his hand on the tender flesh of your plush thigh is enough to have you panting and writhing. The feeling is isolated, the mere touch hot on your skin— scalding, even. His large hand sinks easily into the soft skin there, and you wish his touch alone would leave marks in his wake. To remind you that he’s still here, and you’ll both be alright.

The coiling feeling builds and builds, your walls clenching around nothing as your clit is assaulted by the constant stream of pressure. A whimper of frustration escapes your lips as your hips try to buck up to chase the feeling— begging for relief. He doesn’t spare you from cruelty, not when your expressions are a wonder to behold. You can’t even scream as an orgasm rips through you so suddenly, mouth agape as you twist and arch under his watchful gaze.

An expression twisted and contorted by bliss— Blade drinks up all your sounds and the sight of you undone. You squirm against his hold on your thigh as the feeling starts to toe into overstimulation. It’s too much of a good thing and you don’t know whether to beg him to stop or keep chasing the feeling of the coil tightly winding again.

The tears that adorn your lashes blur your peripheral, but you’re sure you see a wolfish grin on Blade’s expression.

Just short of coming undone again, he denies you a second completion. The stream of water slowly drips to a stop and you lay there catching your breath. Frustration sits in the pit of your belly as exhaustion finally settles on your limbs, eyelids heavy. For a moment you feel his lips on your temple— a brief, chaste gesture.

It’s silent as you get ready to sleep once more. By now it’s almost two in the morning, your tired body protesting the hour. But the air is no longer suffocating, and a lightness remains in your heart once more. The maw of the beast still looms over you but for now, the beating of two hearts quells your worries until morning.

His steps halt as you pull him along toward the bed.

“Sleep here,” you beg quietly. “It’ll be better for your wounds.”

Blade closes his eyes, forcing himself to disregard the want in your eyes. When you tug gently again he gives in, allowing you to do as you please. Just like always.

He cannot pleasure you how he wants, not tonight. You wouldn’t allow it with his wounds. All the same he relents when you urge him to sleep in a proper bed— to lay with you.

In the stillness of the dark, his hand searches for yours. You wonder for a moment if his fear of losing you rivals your own. For the sake of your heart, you’ll have to assume that much.

He fits easily into the crook of your neck and allows his lips to press tenderly where your shoulder meets your neck. The flesh dissolves under his tongue. You are left bare, a soul so desperately longing to be unsealed and seen and filled.

And he sees you. Blade fills you— with yearning and a wretched possessiveness unbecoming of you. But he fills you, nonetheless.

#mii writes #blade x reader #cw blood #nsf mii #cw panic attack #cw trauma #bodyguard au #fem reader #cw toxic family dynamic #cw unhealthy dependency #if I’m missing any tags lmk #I need to put blade under a microscope and study him #his character eludes me aghh #hurt/comfort

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jetii · 1 month ago

Text

Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Part One | Part Two

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

Words: 13,570 / 34,682

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! enemies to lovers kinda, forced proximity, bodyguard!Thorn, protective!Thorn, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), manhandling, spanking, marking, dirty talk, kind of a lot of dirty talk and most of it is so unserious, size kink?, Thorn is a cocky bastard but it's earned, he's actually very nice despite the tags, there's an epilogue

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

A/N: I have nothing to say but 🤭

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

"Well, Senator, it's been a pleasure," the Governor says.

Thorn forces himself not to roll his eyes. It's the last day of the week, and the final event you have to attend before returning to Coruscant. It's an evening dinner, and the guest list is filled with politicians and government officials and people Thorn has heard more than enough of over the last several days. Thankfully there have been no surprises, and the night has passed without incident. Now, everyone is exchanging pleasantries and saying their goodbyes.

You smile, the perfect image of politeness, and Thorn wants nothing more than to get the two of you out of here. You're clearly tired, and he can tell that the constant stream of socialization is wearing on you. He's surprised that you're able to maintain such a positive, energetic disposition. He would have lost his mind days ago.

"Thank you, Governor," you say, dipping your head. "It's been a wonderful visit, and I'm glad to have had the opportunity to work with you and your staff."

Thorn stifles a sigh. He's heard this same speech several times already, and he's had to listen to the others respond in turn. It's an endless cycle, one big charade, and Thorn is grateful that it's finally ending. He's ready to go home.

The Governor beams, a wide, genuine smile on his face. He claps you on the shoulder, a gesture that seems far too familiar, and Thorn has to resist the urge to push him away.

"Of course, Senator," the Governor says. "We've been honored to host you. I only hope that our hospitality has been satisfactory."

"It's been wonderful," you assure him, and Thorn nearly chokes.

You're lying through your teeth, and it's obvious. Two of his staff tried to assassinate you, and there's a very real threat against your life, and yet you're telling the man that it's been a great visit. He doesn't know whether to laugh or shake his head in disbelief.

"I've had a lovely time,” you say.

"Come back any time, my friend. It's always a pleasure having you here," the Governor replies, and you laugh, the sound low and melodic.

"Don’t say that, you’ll never get me to leave," you tease.

This time, Thorn does roll his eyes, grateful that his helmet is hiding his expression. The Governor lets out a loud laugh, clapping you on the back once again.

You take a step back, and Thorn takes a step forward, placing himself between the two of you. It's a subtle movement, one that the Governor doesn't seem to notice, but you glance at Thorn, a look of amusement and gratitude on your face.

"I wouldn't complain," the Governor laughs. He turns to Thorn, his gaze sweeping over him. "Take care of our Senator, Commander."

"With my life, sir," Thorn says, a note of steel in his voice.

"Good man," the Governor nods and turns back to you. "Safe travels, Senator. Let us know if there's anything else we can do."

"Thank you, Governor," you say. "Have a good night."

The Governor bids you farewell, and the two of you part ways, with Thorn trailing after you as you make your way through the crowd.

You stop, pausing to speak with a few more guests, and he takes the opportunity to look around the room, searching for any signs of danger. Things have been quiet since the attempt on your life, and he’d personally interrogated the would-be assassins to ensure there would be no more surprises, but that doesn't mean he's not going to remain vigilant.

There's a momentary break in the crowd, and you catch his eye, a tired, grateful smile on your face. It's the first time all night that the two of you have been able to lock eyes, and Thorn's stomach flutters. He's never been more thankful for a helmet, because he's pretty sure that his face is as red as his armor.

You nod, a subtle movement, and Thorn responds in kind before he turns his gaze back out at the crowd.

He doesn't have a name for what's happening between the two of you, and he's not sure what to call it. All he knows is that it's something. Something significant.

You're still pushing his buttons, still teasing him and testing his patience, but there's an undercurrent of something deeper. A respect, and an understanding, and a desire that makes his heart race. He doesn't want this to end, and the idea of returning to his old life, without you, is unbearable.

As the room starts to empty, and the staff begins cleaning up, Thorn notices that you're nowhere to be seen. His heart drops, his blood running cold, and he frantically scans the room, searching for any sign of you.

He spots you a moment later heading out into the gardens, and his shoulders sag with relief. He moves to follow you, and then hesitates, not sure if he should intrude. He doesn't want to bother you, and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. But the idea of leaving you alone is too much for him to handle, and he's out the door in an instant.

The gardens are empty, and the moonlight filters down through the trees, casting a soft glow on the stone path. The air is warm, and the sounds of the city are muted, and Thorn takes a deep breath as he tugs off his helmet, relishing in the peacefulness.

He can see your figure in the distance, and he picks up his pace, not wanting to lose sight of you. You're walking slowly, your back turned toward him, and he pauses, watching as the breeze catches your hair and the moonlight shines on your skin.

You look beautiful, and he’s struck by the sudden realization that this is the last time he's ever going to see you like this.

In a matter of hours, you'll be back on the cruiser, and Thorn will return to his regular duties, and this chapter of his life will come to an end. And, even though he knew it was coming, the thought of it makes him feel hollow inside.

He doesn't want this to be the end, and yet, he doesn't know how to stop it.

Thorn takes a deep breath and starts down the path, making his way towards you. The sound of his boots crunching on the gravel causes you to turn, and you look up at him, a fallen flower twirling in your fingertips.

He catches a glimpse of a strange expression crossing your face, your eyes shining, and he frowns.

"What is it?"

You smile, shaking your head, and his frown deepens. You're looking at him with a sadness he’s never seen before, and he's not sure what to make of it. You're not wearing your usual mask, and he's not used to seeing such open emotion on your face.

"Nothing," you reply with a shrug. The look is gone as soon as it appears, and you turn your attention back to the flower, rolling it between your fingers.

"Tell me," he orders. His voice comes out harsher than he intended, and he winces.

You glance at him, raising a brow. "What's with the tone, Commander?"

"Just tell me," he says, softer this time.

You sigh and look away, your gaze sweeping over the garden. It's a warm day, and the scent of flowers drifts through the air. The two of you are standing in the middle of the courtyard, the sky a deep blue above you. It's easier to see the stars here than it is on Coruscant, and Thorn is reminded once again that he's far from home.

"This is it," you murmur.

"This is...what?"

"This is the last night," you say, and he swallows. "After tomorrow, we’ll be heading back on Coruscant, and then your assignment will be over."

He knows this. He's known it since the beginning. But hearing you say it is still like a punch in the gut.

“It is,” he says, his voice thick, and he looks down at his boots.

You're both quiet, and the tension between the two of you seems to grow. Thorn doesn't know what to say. He’s not sure if there's anything that can be said. He's not good at this sort of thing, and the last thing he wants to do is make a fool of himself.

"So we have one more night," you say, breaking the silence. Your voice is soft, and Thorn can hear the sadness in it. It makes his chest ache, and his throat tightens. "One more night before everything goes back to the way it was."

"Yes," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You take a deep breath, your chest rising and falling, and Thorn can't tear his eyes away. He's memorized the curve of your lips, the line of your jaw, the softness of your skin, and he's not sure if he'll ever get another chance to see it again. Not like this, at least.

You meet his gaze, and he sucks in a sharp breath, the air catching in his lungs.

"I just wanted to say that I had a lot of fun, Commander," you tell him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I'm glad the Chancellor saw fit to send you to protect me."

He feels the same, and more, and yet he can't bring himself to say the words. The fear, and the shame, is holding him back, and he hates himself for it.

"It's been my pleasure," he finally manages, the words feeling hollow. It's not enough, and yet, it's all he can give. He wants to say so much more, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he's not sure how to make them come out.

You tilt your head, looking at him with an amused smile, and you shake your head and laugh. "No, it hasn't."

Thorn stiffens, and he's not sure whether to be offended or embarrassed. It's true, he's hated this assignment from the very beginning, but that was before he got to know you. Before he saw the real you, and fell for you, and wanted nothing more than to be with you.

"Senator," he warns, and you chuckle.

"Commander, please. You can be honest with me, you know," you say lightly. "I won't mind. I can't imagine being forced to be the sole guard of an uppity senator was a very high priority for you. Especially when said senator has a habit of disappearing."

"You're not uppity," he tells you, and you snort, rolling your eyes. "You're not."

"You really are an awful liar, Commander."

"I'm not lying," he insists, and you give him a knowing look.

"So, why are you so keen to get out of here?" you ask, tilting your head. "You must be eager to get back to your usual duties. I'm sure it'll be a relief not to have to worry about me anymore."

"I'm not keen," he says, and you raise a brow. "It's just..."

He trails off, his words failing him. He's not sure how to explain what he's feeling, and the more he tries, the more frustrated he gets.

"What is it?" you prompt, and Thorn sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

When his hand drops, his mouth presses into a thin line, his eyes searching yours. "You want me to be honest?"

You nod.

"Fine.”

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, trying to ignore the way his heart is hammering in his chest. He has no idea where the sudden surge of bravery has come from, but he's determined to ride it out, no matter what happens.

“I hated this assignment. From the very beginning. It's been a pain in my ass, and a major distraction from my duties. I've had to deal with more bullshit in the last month than I have in my entire career, and I'm more than ready for it to be over," he admits, and your lips quirk up in amusement. "And it's been even worse because of you."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Me? What did I do?"

"Yes. You've made my life a living hell, Senator.” Thorn swallows hard, the words spilling out before he can stop them. "Because, every time I was near you, I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and wondering if you were okay, and wishing that things were different. You drive me crazy. You've always driven me crazy."

You stare at him, your mouth agape. Thorn is breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest, and his ears are ringing. He can't believe he's just confessed all that, and he can't believe he actually meant it. It's like a weight has been lifted off his chest, and he feels better than he has in weeks. But, now, the fear is setting in, and his stomach is tying itself in knots.

He's said too much, and he knows it. But, it's too late to take it back now.

You're still staring at him, and Thorn can't read the expression on your face. There’s a long silence, and he wonders if you're going to say anything, or if he's just screwed everything up. The suspense is killing him, and he's tempted to put his helmet back on just to escape the awkwardness.

After a moment, you close your mouth, and you look down, your eyelashes fluttering. Thorn watches as a smile spreads across your face and your cheeks turn pink.

A warm rush of relief washes over him, one that leaves him feeling lighter than air. He doesn't know what's going through your head, but he's pretty sure it's a good thing.

"You really are full of surprises, aren't you, Commander?"

Thorn shrugs, the corners of his lips quirking up. "Only when you're involved, Senator."

Your eyes crinkle, and a soft laugh leaves your lips. You shake your head, looking up at him with a fondness that makes his heart ache. He can’t fight the urge to reach out and touch you anymore, and so he does. He cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek, and you lean into his touch, the smile on your face growing.

"So, why are you so eager to leave? Is it because you can't stand being around me?" you tease, and Thorn laughs, the sound low and husky.

"No, I don't think that's it," he murmurs. "The problem is that I don't think I can stay away from you."

You tilt your head, the amusement on your face turning into something else, and Thorn can't tear his gaze away. You're looking at him, really looking at him, and he feels the world around him fade away.

"Then don't," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your words hang between the two of you, and Thorn finds himself leaning in, his heart racing. You're close, and his hand is still on your cheek, and all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss you.

And, for once, he lets himself do it.

His lips brush against yours, and you gasp, your body stiffening. Thorn’s stomach clenches, a rush of panic washing over him, but before he can pull away, your hands reach up, cupping his face.

He melts into the kiss, his free hand finding your hip, and he pulls you flush against him. You let out a soft moan as his tongue darts out to taste you, and he groans, his grip tightening as your hands grip his chest plate.

The two of you move together, the kiss turning from sweet and gentle, to heated and passionate. You taste sweet, like the dessert you'd eaten earlier, and he finds himself quickly getting lost in the way your lips move, in the feeling of your body pressed against his, in the sound of your soft gasps.

He's never felt this way before, and he never wants it to end.

You're the most incredible thing he's ever experienced, and he doesn't want to let you go.

You pull away, and Thorn can't help but chase your lips, a low whine escaping him. You laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then you take a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. He doesn’t let you go far, his hands still gripping your waist, and he searches your face, his heart hammering.

"That was..." you trail off, a dazed look in your eyes. Your cheeks are flushed, and your lips are swollen, and you're looking at him like you're seeing him for the first time. It makes his heart race, and a smug satisfaction settles over him. He did that.

He can't stop the laughter that bubbles up from his chest. "Incredible? Amazing?"

You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully, and his grin widens.

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, his voice soft and teasing.

You give him a stern look, but there's a smile tugging at your lips, and Thorn can't resist leaning down to capture your lips with his. You hum, leaning into him, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

You break the kiss, and Thorn leans his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I think we should save the rest for later, Commander," you murmur, and Thorn's heart skips a beat. He's not sure if he heard you correctly, but the way your fingers trace the edge of his jaw is all the confirmation he needs.

"Okay," he agrees quickly, his voice hoarse, and you give him a satisfied smirk.

"Good," you hum. Your thumb moves across his mouth, wiping the lipstick from his lips, and Thorn has to resist the urge to capture your finger between his teeth.

You press one last, lingering kiss against his mouth, and then pull away, stepping out of his arms. "Now, I should get back to my quarters. We can finish this there."

Thorn blinks, his eyes wide, and his jaw drops. He's not sure what to say, and he can only stare at you in shock. You've completely caught him off guard, and the confidence and boldness you're showing is enough to make him weak in the knees.

"We can?" he stammers, and you laugh.

"I think we both know that we've been dancing around each other for weeks now," you reply. "Don't act so surprised."

He can't deny it, and he doesn't try.

"Are you sure about this, Senator?"

You give him a wicked grin, and Thorn swallows hard, his stomach tightening.

"Of course," you say lightly. "You don't think I'd let you kiss me like that and then walk away, do you? No, Commander, I want the full experience."

He blinks, and then lets out a short, surprised laugh. You're shameless, and it's one of the things he likes most about you. He doesn't know how he got so lucky, or how this is even happening, but he's not about to back down from the challenge. Not when you're looking at him like that.

"And you think you can handle that?" he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. His hand trails down your side, brushing against the curve of your waist, and you shiver, a soft sigh leaving your lips.

"Oh, Commander," you breathe. "I know I can. Can you?"

Thorn's hand cups your chin, and he leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Oh, I'm sure I can handle whatever you've got, Senator."

You let out a shuddering breath, and he smiles triumphantly, feeling a thrill run down his spine.

"Well then," you purr, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "We’d better head back. We have some...negotiations to discuss."

Thorn laughs, the sound low and rumbling, and he offers you his arm. "Do we, now?"

"We do," you confirm as you loop your arm through his. "We’ll have to see if we can't reach a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"It could take a while, Senator," he teases. "You're a very stubborn woman. We could be here all night."

You let out a laugh, and the sound fills him with happiness. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, and he's not sure if he ever has.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, Commander."

The moment the door to your apartment closes behind the two of you, Thorn finds himself pushed up against it, his back slamming against the wood, and a gasp escapes him as your lips crash against his. His helmet clatters to the floor, forgotten, and his hands come to rest on your waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of your robes.

It's the middle of the night, and Thorn can barely see you in the darkness, the moonlight shining through the window casting the room in a dim, silvery light. The only other source of light is the soft glow of the city outside, and he feels like he's in another world, somewhere far away from reality.

It's a nice feeling, knowing that the two of you are alone, that there's nothing keeping you apart, and Thorn doesn't waste a second.

He tears off his gloves, and his hands slide under the hem of your robes, pushing them up. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his touch, and he can feel the heat of your body as his palms skim over the bare skin of your thighs. He squeezes your hips, drawing you closer to him, and a low moan slips from your lips.

You're both desperate, the need to feel each other's skin overwhelming. Your hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of him, and Thorn's skin feels hot, like he's burning up from the inside.

"Senator," he mutters, his mouth trailing along the line of your jaw. You hum, tilting your head back, giving him access to the column of your neck, and he doesn't hesitate, his lips skimming over your skin.

"Commander," you breathe, a breathless laugh escaping you when he bites down on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Your fingers curl in his hair, tugging sharply, and Thorn grunts, his hips bucking forward and grinding against you.

"You know, Senator, there are a lot of things that I've been thinking about," he tells you. His mouth presses against the curve of your shoulder, his hands slipping higher to brush over the curve of your ass. "A lot of things I've wanted to do with you."

You chuckle, a breathless sound that makes his blood heat. "Oh?”

Thorn noses aside the neckline of your dress, exposing the smooth skin of your shoulder, and his mouth immediately finds your collarbone, his tongue sweeping across it. "Mhm. I have a very active imagination, you know."

Your hips roll against his, and Thorn hisses, his grip tightening. Your lips brush against his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"Do tell, Commander," you whisper. "I want to hear all about it."

"All of it?" he asks, and you hum, nipping at his earlobe. His skin prickles, and he feels the shiver run down his spine.

"Every single thing."

"Well, first, I've thought a lot about what you'd feel like," he starts. His hand moves to your front, pushing the fabric aside until his fingers brush against the bare skin of your abdomen, and you inhale sharply, the muscles flexing under his touch. "What you'd sound like, when I touched you."

He moves his hand lower, his fingertips trailing along the edge of your panties. You bite your lip, and he pauses, searching your face. You're flushed, and your eyes are hooded, and Thorn swallows, his blood heating.

"Is that all?" you ask, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"I’m glad you asked, Senator," he says, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your underwear. You gasp, your hips bucking forward, grinding into his hand. He can feel how wet you are, and he bites back a groan. "Because I've had quite a few ideas lately."

"Oh, really?" you ask, your voice low. "Tell me, Commander, what else have you been thinking about?"

Thorn grins, and then, without warning, his hand slips into your underwear, his fingers sliding between your folds. You cry out, your body going tense, and Thorn's other hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He works his fingers slowly, his touch gentle and teasing, and your head falls back, your eyes fluttering shut.

"I've thought a lot about how you'd look, sitting on my face, with my tongue buried inside you," he whispers, his mouth moving along the curve of your jaw. Your breath hitches, and he bites back a smirk, his fingers continuing their slow exploration. “Or how you'd look on your knees, looking up at me with those pretty eyes of yours, begging for more."

You let out a low whine, and he can feel your thighs quivering, your hips rolling into his hand.

"I've thought about bending you over my desk, or pressing you against the window. Maybe even spreading you out on my bed, keeping you there until I'm satisfied."

You whimper, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders. His fingers rub tight circles around your clit, and you grind against him, a soft moan escaping you. You're soaking wet, dripping onto his hand, and the feel of it makes his cock throb.

"You have a filthy mind, Commander," you tease, and he grins, his nose nuzzling the spot behind your ear.

"I told you, I'm very creative," he says lightly. "And there's nothing I can't accomplish, if I put my mind to it."

"You are very dedicated, I'll give you that," you mumble, a soft moan escaping you when he finally pushes a finger inside of you. You're so wet that he has no trouble slipping another in, and your hips rock, a shuddering gasp escaping you. "Fuck."

He searches for that spot deep inside of you, his fingers curling, his eyes fixed on your face. He's watching you carefully, gauging your reactions, and when you let out a sharp cry, he knows he's found it. Thorn grins, his thumb pressing down on your clit, and your whole body stiffens, a breathless moan falling from your lips.

His free hand moves up to cup your chin, his thumb brushing against the seam of your lips. You open for him, and his thumb slips into your mouth, stroking the velvety heat of your tongue. A groan rumbles through his chest as you suck on his finger, your eyes locking with his.

"Do you like this, Senator?" he murmurs, his breath fanning across the skin of your neck, and you nod, a muffled whimper escaping you.

"Mhm," you groan, the word turning into a sharp gasp when he crooks his fingers again, his pace quickening.

He presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he growls. "Gonna make you feel so fucking good."

You whimper, and Thorn bites back a smirk, his hand gripping your chin, forcing your head up. Your eyes meet his, and he can see the desire burning in them, the way your pupils are blown wide with lust. His other hand speeds up, his thumb circling your clit, and your hips start to rock, matching his movements.

"You've been driving me crazy for months. But you knew that, didn't you?"

"I have," you admit, a breathless laugh escaping you. The sound turns into a soft moan as he thrusts his fingers deeper, and Thorn's hand tightens, his eyes never leaving yours.

"It was very cruel of you, Senator. Do you know how hard it was to stay focused when you kept making me blush? And all those little comments," he mutters, and your eyes flash with mischief, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. "You knew what you were doing, didn't you?"

You bite down on his thumb, and his eyes widen, a low groan leaving him. "I had a feeling."

He lets out a low, rumbling laugh. "So you've been trying to drive me crazy on purpose?"

"Yes, and it worked, didn't it?" you ask, and he grins, cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. You gasp, a shudder running through you, and he tugs on it, pulling your head back until his lips can brush against the shell of your ear.

"You have no idea," he breathes. "You have no fucking idea."

He pushes you backwards, and your back hits the wall with a soft thud. Thorn drops to his knees, his fingers still pumping into you, and he shoves your skirts aside so he can get a better look. He's rewarded with the sight of your slick-covered thighs, your soaked underwear stretched over his knuckles and he lets out a low groan.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes. His fingers slip out of you and slide over the damp fabric of your panties, and his thumb strokes over the swollen bundle of nerves, teasing you. "And so fucking wet. Look at how wet you are for me."

You let out a soft whimper and nod, your hands gripping the hem of your skirts. Thorn's eyes flicker to yours, and then he leans in, pressing his mouth against the fabric, his tongue swiping over it. You cry out, your knees buckling, and Thorn's hands grip your thighs, keeping you upright.

He sucks at the fabric, and the taste of you explodes on his tongue. You're sweet and tart and perfect, and he can't get enough. He can feel your clit throbbing beneath the fabric, and he moans, his tongue licking a hot, wet trail over it.

"So good," he whispers. "So fucking good."

He pulls back to tear your underwear down your legs, and then he quickly shoves his fingers back inside of you. His free hand grabs hold of your leg, lifting it up and draping it over his shoulder. You're spread open in front of him, and Thorn licks his lips, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you.

You're a vision. Your skin is flushed, your hair mussed, and your eyes are glazed over, half-lidded with pleasure. Your breasts heave, and the soft sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips fill his ears, the only other sound in the room the wet slap of his hand as it works inside you.

"I'm not gonna stop until you come on my face," he murmurs, and you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it sharply.

"Then what are you waiting for, Commander?" you taunt breathlessly.

His lips quirk, his eyes darkening.

"I guess I'm just waiting for you to beg."

"Don't hold your breath," you shoot back. Thorn chuckles and shakes his head.

"That's alright," he says. "We've got all night."

You glare down at him, and he meets your gaze, his lips curling into a smirk. He leans in, his nose nuzzling the crease of your thigh, and then his mouth closes over your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. Your body stiffens, and a loud cry escapes you, your foot digging into his back as your hands fist in his hair.

He's not gentle. There's nothing tender about the way his tongue is licking at the seam of your pussy, or the way his fingers are pistoning into you, or the way his teeth are scraping over the sensitive flesh.

He doesn't want to be gentle.

He wants to make sure that the next time you see him, every single time you look at him, you're reminded of how good it felt to have his mouth on you. You're going to remember the way he made you fall apart, and the feeling of his hands on you.

You're going to be ruined, and Thorn is going to make sure that no one else is ever going to be able to measure up.

"Fuck," you choke out, your voice raw, your chest heaving. He can't help but grin, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh, and you let out a sharp gasp. "Don't stop, don't you dare fucking stop."

"Come on, Senator," he growls, his fingers speeding up. He feels your cunt clench around him, and he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Come on my face. Show me how good I'm making you feel."

Your breath comes out in harsh pants, and he can tell that you're getting close. Your muscles are tensing, and your hips are jerking, and Thorn doubles his efforts, his mouth sucking hard on your clit.

"Ah, Commander!"

Your hips buck against his face, and your hands grip his hair, holding him in place. Your entire body tenses, your thighs quivering, and then, with a sharp cry, you come undone.

Thorn lets out a strangled laugh as you writhe and shudder above him. Your walls flutter around his fingers, and he can feel your release dripping down his wrist, coating his knuckles. He laps it up, his tongue dipping between your folds, and he can't help the way his hips grind into the floor, desperate for some friction.

He doesn't stop, even as you whimper and your body starts to tremble. He keeps going, his tongue working against your clit furiously. He can't get enough of the way you taste, and he doesn't want to stop. He could do this forever, he thinks. Just bury his face between your thighs and eat you out for hours, making you come over and over again.

You let out a sob, your body going taut as he pushes a third finger into you, stretching you open. He thrusts into you, his mouth working relentlessly, his teeth scraping over your clit. Your hips rock into him, grinding against his face, and Thorn grunts, his eyes locked on yours.

"Oh, oh, oh," you gasp, your voice strained. "Fucking hell, Thorn!

The sound of his name falling from your lips is enough to make him groan. He pulls his fingers out, and then immediately thrusts them back in, his mouth latching onto your clit. Your entire body shudders, and then you're coming again, a hoarse scream tearing from your throat.

He hums at the sound, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t expect you to be so vocal, and he can’t help but wonder if anyone can hear you. If the guards on duty can hear the way you're crying out for him, the way you're screaming his name.

He hopes they can. He hopes the entire damn city can.

"That's it, Senator," Thorn coos, his tongue gently lapping at the mess between your legs. You whimper, your hands pushing his face away, and he lets out a rumbling laugh, his nose skimming the inside of your thigh.

He presses one last kiss to the apex of your thighs before he sits back, admiring his work. Your skirts are rumpled and pushed up to your hips, exposing the smooth expanse of your trembling thighs, and you're gasping for air, your chest heaving. You look absolutely debauched, and the sight makes his blood heat.

Thorn grins, licking his lips, and he watches as your eyes lock onto the movement. “Did that live up to expectations, Senator?"

"Not bad, Commander," you pant. "I'm impressed."

"I told you, I always get the job done."

You laugh, the sound turning into a low moan when he removes his fingers from you, a thin line of slick connecting them to your cunt.

"I guess you did.”

He smirks, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. His tongue slides between the digits, and he sees your eyes darken, a breathless laugh escaping you.

"Are you satisfied, Senator?" he asks, his voice dropping, and your eyes glint, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"For now," you murmur.

He lets out a rumbling laugh, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

"Good. Now it's my turn,” he says, his nose skimming the line of your leg. He sees the way your cunt clenches, the way the muscles of your abdomen flex, and his smile widens. He wants to bury his face between your thighs again, but he has other plans.

"What did you have in mind, Commander?" you ask, your voice heavy with desire, and he gives noncommittal shrug, his hands sliding down the length of your legs, cupping the back of your knees.

“I’ll show you.”

Without waiting for a response, Thorn wraps his arms around your thighs, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You yelp, your hands gripping the edge of his breastplate, and he laughs. His hand slides under the hem of your skirt, his fingertips brushing against the curve of your ass, and he hums, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Commander!" you cry out as he slaps your ass, the sound echoing through the room. You let out a surprised squeak, and Thorn smirks, his palm smoothing over the stinging flesh.

"Senator, I can assure you that this is in the best interests of everyone," he says lightly, and you snort, slapping him gently upside the head. He chuckles, giving you another quick swat. He doesn’t miss the way your hips buck, the soft whine that falls from your lips.

"In the best interest of who?"

"You, for one. And me. And any poor souls that have the misfortune of having to deal with us," he tells you as he walks. “We're going to spend the rest of the night working things out, Senator. The sooner we reach a conclusion, the sooner everyone will be happy."

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"I knew you'd see it my way," he replies, his hands skimming over the curve of your ass, and then, without warning, his fingers dig into the backs of your thighs, and he lifts you, swinging you around.

You shriek, laughing and swatting at his armor, and he can't stop the smile that spreads across his face as he adjusts you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You're warm and pliant in his arms, and the feeling of your arms looping around his neck sends a shiver down his spine.

You look up at him, and his breath catches at the sight of the warmth in your eyes. He's never seen you like this, and he's definitely not used to seeing you this vulnerable. He can't help but be amazed at the trust you've put in him. It's a powerful feeling, knowing that someone like you, someone who could have anyone they wanted, is willing to let their guard down with him.

It's not a feeling he's particularly familiar with, but it's one he wants to get used to. He's tired of pretending, and he's tired of being afraid. He wants to know what it's like to be close to someone, and to be wanted, and he's never been more certain that you're the person he wants to experience that with.

He's spent months chasing you, and now, finally, he's caught you.

He can't imagine a better feeling.

Thorn carries you through the darkened apartment, his hands gripping your thighs, and you press kisses along his neck and jaw. Your lips are soft and warm, and he lets out a contented sigh, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s memorized the layout of the apartment, and he doesn’t need the lights to know where he's going. He can find his way to your bedroom in his sleep, and he's not surprised when his foot nudges open the door.

The curtains are open, and the moonlight spills through the window, bathing the room in a soft, silvery glow. He’s sure the view of the gardens would be beautiful, if he bothered to look. Right now, though, all he can focus on is the woman in his arms.

His gaze falls on the bed, and he feels a thrill of anticipation run through him. It's huge, bigger than any bed he's ever slept in, and covered in plush pillows and thick blankets. Thorn lets out a rumbling laugh, and then, without a word, he tosses you onto the mattress.

You bounce slightly, a soft squeak escaping you, and he takes a moment to admire the way your hair fans out beneath you, your robes slipping off your shoulder. You're gorgeous, and the sight of you lying in the middle of the bed, spread out for him, is almost too much for him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your eyes locking with his. "So what did you have in mind, Commander?"

"Strip," he orders, his hands coming to rest on the fastenings of his belt. "I want to see all of you."

You don't move, and he raises a brow, tilting his head.

"Unless you'd rather I tear those pretty robes off of you," he says, and something flashes across your face, your eyes darkening. "Which, honestly, I'm perfectly fine with. It's been a long day, and I'm not feeling very patient."

"You're awfully demanding, Commander," you murmur, and his lips quirk, his gaze fixed on yours. He drops his belt to the floor, his kama coming along with it, and his chestplate follows, his pauldrons and vambraces soon joining the pile.

"And you're not listening," he replies lightly, his voice dangerously low, and he watches as your eyes widen, your cheeks flushing. "Maybe I should show you just how serious I am, Senator."

"As much as I love the idea of you tearing my clothes off," you say softly, pushing yourself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, "I do quite like this dress. It's new."

"I like it too," he admits, his gaze following the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbone.

You chuckle, rising to your feet. "Good."

His eyes lock with yours, and Thorn swallows thickly, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He watches as you step forward, your hands moving to the fastenings of your dress, and his breath catches in his throat, his heart hammering in his chest. His fingers slip over his codpiece, his eyes following the movement of your hands. By the time he’s managed to unfasten the plates, he sees the top of your dress sliding off your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes. He can't help but stare, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin, and you let out a soft laugh, stepping out of the fabric, leaving you completely bare.

"What?" you ask, and Thorn doesn't respond, his mouth suddenly too dry.

"Maker," he mutters, and your smile widens.

"Like what you see, Commander?"

"You have no idea," he growls, his hands suddenly moving as fast as lightning, his armor dropping to the floor.

He's desperate, his body aching with need, and it doesn't take him long to shed his armor. The plates drop to the floor with a series of loud clanks, and Thorn doesn't bother looking down, his eyes locked on yours.

By the time he's pulled off his briefs, you've unhooked your bra and tossed it aside, and Thorn has to stop himself from lunging at you. His cock is throbbing, painfully hard, and the sight of your bare chest makes him feel lightheaded.

He moves quickly, his hands finding your waist, and he lifts you, your legs automatically wrapping around him, your hands cupping his face. You feel incredible, the soft skin of your body pressed against him, and for the first time, there's no armor, no titles, nothing separating the two of you.

And when your lips brush against his, the kiss is softer than anything he's experienced before. He sighs into the kiss, his arms tightening around you, and he feels your legs squeezing around his waist, a soft whimper falling from your lips.

"Senator," he breathes as you part, his nose brushing against yours, and you lean in, your forehead resting against his.

"I don't think we need those titles anymore," you whisper, and he nods, a small laugh escaping him.

"Yeah. Okay."

You lean in, and his lips meet yours once more. This time, the kiss is more urgent, and his hand slides to the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips. You taste like mint and spice, and the feeling of your mouth against his sends a shock of pleasure down his spine.

Your hands slide down his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and Thorn groans, his muscles tensing under your touch. You hum, nipping at his bottom lip, and then your hand slides lower, wrapping around his length, and Thorn's head drops back, a shuddering moan falling from his lips.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he chokes out, and you grin, your thumb rubbing against the head of his cock. "That's—"

You squeeze, and his hips buck, a sharp cry falling from his lips. His knees threaten to give out, and Thorn grunts, his body shaking.

"So big," you murmur, and a strangled laugh spills from his mouth, his eyes rolling back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he manages to croak. "I'll go easy on you."

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and Thorn grins.

"I'm kidding," he murmurs, and then, without warning, he pushes forward, pressing you into the mattress. Your back hits the soft covers, and Thorn climbs over you, his weight resting on his elbows.

Your hair fans out beneath you, the moonlight bathing the sheets, and he takes a moment to admire you again before he leans down, his lips trailing over your neck.

"Fuck, I could get used to this," he mumbles against your skin. Your hands tangle in his hair, and you arch beneath him, a soft moan escaping you.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhm," he hums, kissing along the curve of your shoulder, his hand coming up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple.

Your gasp turns into a whimper as he sucks a mark into the skin, and he can't help the swell of pride he feels, his gaze drifting to the mark. It’s a deep purple, stark against your skin, and Thorn finds himself smirking. You’ll have no trouble hiding it underneath your robes, but every time you move, every time you touch it, or when you catch a glimpse of it in the mirror, you're going to remember the way his mouth felt on you.

"You look good like this," he says, his voice thick with arousal, his hand drifting lower, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft moan escaping you.

"On the bed, or marked by you?"

"Both," he says with a chuckle. Thorn feels his heart skip a beat, his cock twitching. The image of you, splayed out on the bed, covered in his marks, is a very appealing one. “I could do this for days. Cover every inch of your body."

"Maybe next time," you tell him, and he raises a brow, his lips trailing over the valley of your breasts.

"Next time?"

"Unless you're opposed to it, Commander."

"I am not," he growls, his fingers brushing over the seam of your cunt. "Definitely not opposed to that."

You shiver, your thighs parting, and Thorn lets out soft breath, his gaze drifting to the apex of your thighs. He can't believe he's actually here, that you're letting him touch you. It's been months since the first time he saw you, and while he's imagined this moment more times than he'd care to admit, none of his fantasies can compare to the real thing.

"I'm glad we're on the same page, then," you say lightly, and Thorn can't help but chuckle, his fingers dipping between your folds.

"Senator, I'm not sure if I've made myself clear," he starts, his fingertips sliding through the slick dripping down your pussy. You let out a strangled moan as he spreads it along the swollen lips, his thumb teasing the throbbing bud of nerves.

"But I am very interested in there being a next time. And the time after that. And the time after that. As many times as you want. In fact, I'm willing to work on a very generous schedule, and I'm open to negotiation. But only with you. So please, Senator," he says, his thumb pressing against your clit. Your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan falling from your lips, and he grins. "Be reasonable."

Your eyes flash, a breathless laugh spilling from your lips. "I'll have to take it under advisement. You've made a very compelling case, Commander."

"Oh, that was just the opening argument. Now," he continues, his fingers circling your clit, his other hand reaching between the two of you and grabbing his cock. His eyes lock with yours as he rubs the head against your dripping slit, and a whimper spills from your lips.

"Let's see how the rest of the debate goes."

Your response is a gasp, a sharp moan escaping you when the head of his cock dips into your entrance. Your hips rock forward, taking more of him in, and Thorn bites back a groan, his fingers tightening on his cock.

He wants to take his time, wants to tease you, wants to push you right to the edge and make you beg for it.

But he can't. Not tonight.

The thought of being inside you, the heat of your body surrounding him, is too much. He needs to know what it feels like, needs to feel you around him.

And judging from the look on your face, the way your eyes are fixed on the space where the two of you are connected, you need it just as much as he does.

Thorn doesn't waste any more time.

With a slow, steady push, he slides inside of you, his head dropping forward, a choked groan escaping him. You're so fucking warm and wet and perfect, and it takes everything in him not to slam his hips into yours. He wants to, he really fucking does, but he's also trying to be careful.

He hears you whimper, and his gaze moves to your face, his brow furrowing when he sees the wince.

"Oh," he says softly, and his hand moves to the curve of your hip, his thumb stroking the soft skin. "You're so fucking tight, sweetheart. Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, a breathless laugh escaping you. You're flushed, a sheen of sweat covering your skin, and Thorn doesn't move, doesn't push in further. He waits, his hand caressing your hip, his eyes searching your face. "I'm just not used to..."

"Big?" he supplies with a smirk, and you roll your eyes, a huff escaping you.

"No. Well, yes. But it's been a while."

“Ah," he hums, and then he leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Do you want me to be gentle?"

"No," you say, shaking your head.

His brow furrows, his head tilting to the side. "No?"

"I want you to fuck me, Thorn," you murmur, and his throat bobs. He feels the way your cunt clenches around him, the way your body tenses, and a strangled groan leaves him. "Please."

It's the please that does it.

It's the way the word falls from your lips so softly, so desperately, that has him snapping his hips forward. A choked moan spills from his lips as he pushes deeper, and he can't stop himself, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

You're so warm and tight, and it's all he can do to keep still, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He can feel your body adjusting to his size, can feel your muscles clenching around him, and he grits his teeth, his nails digging into the soft skin of your thigh as he hitches it around his waist.

"Fucking hell," he breathes, and he feels you squeeze around him, your back arching.

"Maker, you're big," you mumble, and Thorn's lips curl into a smirk, his hand moving to cup the back of your knee.

"Told you.”

You roll your eyes, and he chuckles, kissing along the line of your jaw as he pushes your leg up higher.

"Just relax," he whispers against the column of your throat. "You can take it."

He hears a muffled noise come from your throat, and then suddenly he's buried inside of you.

You both groan, the sound filling the room, and Thorn's hand tightens, his hips grinding against yours. He keeps the pace slow and steady, not wanting to overwhelm you, but soon, you're pushing back against him, a soft whimper falling from your lips.

The noise sends a shiver down his spine, and he can't stop himself. He starts to move faster, pulling out farther, his mouth hot on your throat.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he purrs, and he sees the way your body reacts, the way your legs wrap around his waist, urging him deeper. "Like you were made for me."

Your hand grips the nape of his neck, and a sharp hiss escapes him as your nails bite into his skin. His hips snap forward, the head of his cock rubbing against the spot deep inside of you, and you let out a low cry, a strangled sob escaping you.

He watches, enraptured, as the last of the tension melts away, and then you're wrapping yourself around him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist, and he loses himself.

You're so tight, so warm, so perfect, and Thorn can't believe it's taken him this long to get his hands on you. The feeling of you squeezing around him, the sounds spilling from your lips, are more than enough to drive him crazy, but there's something about the way you're looking at him that makes him ache. There's so much warmth and trust in your eyes and he can't help but think that it's for him. Just him.

"Fuck," he breathes, and his hips start to rock faster, harder, his lips crashing into yours. "You feel so fucking good, sweetheart."

He's always prided himself on his self control, on his ability to stay calm and rational, but you're turning everything upside down. All he can think about is you, all he wants is you. He doesn't want to stop, doesn't want to slow down, doesn't want to be anywhere else.

"Fuck, Thorn, yes, yes, yes, yes," you chant with each thrust. His hips speed up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and his fingers dig into your hips, the mattress squeaking beneath the two of you. Your eyes are closed, your head thrown back, and Thorn can't stop staring at you.

He's close. So close.

"Say my name again," he growls, his tongue tracing a path along the line of your throat.

"Thorn," you moan, and he feels his heart clench, his lips curling.

He's never heard anything sweeter.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your hands gripping his hair, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his mouth latching onto the soft skin.

"Are you gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he breathes, and your legs tighten around his waist, a loud cry escaping you. "I want to hear you scream my name. Come for me, let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

A sharp cry falls from your lips, and Thorn's pace falters. He's so close, so fucking close, and he's desperate to hear you say his name. It's all he can think about, all he wants to hear.

"You're not going to let me hear the end of this, are you?" you mumble with a breathless laugh. Your lips curl into a smirk, and Thorn laughs too.

"Not a chance."

He kisses you again, and then his hands slide down the length of your thighs, gripping your knees and pushing them apart. His hips snap forward, his cock bottoming out inside of you. You let out a surprised squeak, and then he's pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into you.

“Oh, fuck, Thorn!" you scream, and his lips curl into a smug grin, his chest puffing up with pride.

He's never been one to gloat, but right now, he can't help it. He's not just satisfied.

He's fucking elated.

"That's what I wanted to hear," he growls, his voice thick with lust, and then he's pushing in deep once more. His hand drops between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit. Your back arches under his touch, and your hands moving to grip his biceps, your nails digging into the taut muscle. He lets out a low groan, his hips speeding up, and his gaze travels down your body, his eyes fixing on the spot where the two of you are connected.

He's not sure what it is about it, but the sight of his cock buried inside you, the way the head of his cock is sliding in and out of your body, is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He doesn't want to come first, but seeing you stretched open, seeing how deep he's able to go, is making it hard to hold back.

He wants to feel it. Wants to see your body tightening around him, wants to see you come undone.

And when he rubs his thumb against your clit, his other hand moving to your breast and his mouth latching onto the column of your throat, you give him exactly what he wants.

"Fuck, Thorn!"

The words spill from your lips as you come, and Thorn groans, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. Your cunt is squeezing around him, and it's too much. He can’t move, can barely breathe, can barely think.

He manages to hold out for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between the place where the two of you are connected, your release spilling around his cock, and your face, your eyes wide, your lips parted.

Then, with a sharp cry, he falls over the edge, and everything goes white as he spills inside you. He hears you gasp, feels your arms wrap around him, and his own arms come up to wrap around your waist. His head drops down, his forehead pressing against the skin of your neck, and he moans, his hips jerking forward as the last of his release spurts from his cock.

It's intense.

His mind is spinning, his head swimming. His whole body is tingling, and his breath is coming in short, ragged pants.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, buried inside you, his breathing slowly returning to normal, but eventually, he manages to push himself up onto his elbows, his eyes locking with yours.

"Hi," you say, and Thorn smiles, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Hi," he mumbles, and then his gaze drifts to the mess he's made, and his cheeks burn. "Sorry about that. I should have asked. Or pulled out. I wasn't thinking."

"Don't apologize," you tell him, your hand cupping his cheek. "I wasn't either. And I didn't expect you to. It's fine."

"Okay," he says, and then he smiles, his gaze drifting over your face, the flush on your cheeks, the way your hair is fanned out beneath you. "Are you okay? Are you sore?"

"Not too bad," you say with a soft smile. Thorn can't help but grin wider, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck.

"Good," he hums, and then he pulls out of you, his cock falling limply against his thigh. He's still half hard, and he can feel his pulse pounding, his skin heating up, the urge to sink into you again already starting to rise. His hips rock forward, his cock dragging through the mess he's made, and he bites back a groan.

"Do you need anything?" Thorn asks as his thumb strokes the smooth skin of your stomach, his gaze fixed on yours. "A glass of water? A bath? Food? Anything?"

"I'm fine, Thorn," you assure him, and he smiles, leaning down and kissing you again.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you say, laughing softly. “How about you?"

"I'm perfect," he replies. It’s true. He can't remember the last time he's felt this good. His body is loose and relaxed, his mind blissfully empty. He doesn't think he's ever been this happy.

"Perfect?" you echo with a laugh. "You seem awfully sure of yourself."

"Well, I just fucked the hottest, most brilliant, and definitely the sexiest senator in the entire galaxy," he says, his hands skimming up your sides, his fingers tracing patterns over the swell of your breasts. "So yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm perfect."

"Smooth," you tell him. "That was smooth. How did I not notice that before?"

"I guess you've just never paid attention," he says lightly, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"Oh, I was paying attention," you murmur, and Thorn grins, his gaze locked on yours. The words send a shiver down his spine, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He feels the way you melt against him, and his cock twitches, the muscles of his abdomen flexing.

He can't believe how easy this is. He's never imagined it would be like this, not with you. He's spent months thinking about it, dreaming about what it would be like, wondering what you'd say, what you'd do. He's thought about everything. But he's never imagined that it would be this effortless. That the two of you would click this quickly. That it would feel this natural.

But then again, the two of you have been dancing around each other for a long time, and maybe it shouldn't be surprising. Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

Thorn dips his head, his lips trailing down your jaw, his tongue darting out and tracing a path down the line of your throat. He hears you sigh, and his lips curl into a smirk, his teeth scraping against the smooth skin.

“Are you tired?” he asks as he presses a soft kiss to the hollow of your throat.

"No," you reply with a soft chuckle. “You?”

“Not even a little bit," he murmurs. Your hand reaches out, stroking the side of his face, and he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm.

You grin, and Thorn feels his heart flutter.

"Good," you say, and then he's being rolled over. You straddle his lap, a mischievous look on your face as your eyes lock with his. Thorn's breath catches in his throat. "Now, Commander, I believe you mentioned having an open schedule? I was hoping we could discuss the terms of my proposal."

His lips curl into a grin. "I'm listening."

Thorn isn’t really a fan of parties.

They tend to be loud, and crowded, and full of people who have nothing better to do than get drunk and gossip.

He's not much of a drinker, and his social life consists mostly of spending time with the other Commanders. And while he has no problem talking to strangers, he finds the political aspect of these kinds of gatherings tedious, and the constant stream of politicians makes him a bit uncomfortable. He’s wearing his dress uniform, which is tight and stuffy, and his boots are polished to a mirror finish, and the idea of having to spend the rest of the night standing around, making small talk with people he doesn't really care about is the last thing he wants to do.

But, for you, he's willing to make an exception.

"Senator," he greets you with a nod, his hands clasped behind his back. You come to a stop in front of him and offer him a warm smile, inclining your head.

"Commander."

"You look lovely," he murmurs, and he doesn't miss the way your cheeks turn pink.

"Thank you," you say, your lips curling into a smirk. "So do you."

He chuckles, his eyes still roaming over your body.

The dress you're wearing is beautiful. It's a deep red, the fabric shimmering in the light, and he knows that the color matches his armor perfectly. It hugs your figure in all the right places, the neckline dipping down to reveal the smooth skin of your chest, and he can't help but imagine how good the fabric will look pooled on the floor.

He's not even trying to be subtle anymore.

He's not ashamed.

The two of you have spent the past three months getting to know each other. You've gone out for drinks, spent hours in your office and his, and nights holed up in your apartment. You've gone to dinner, taken walks through the gardens, and watched countless holofilms.

He's met your friends, introduced you to the other Commanders, and he's had more sex in the past three months than he's had in the entirety of his life.

He's happier than he's ever been, and he doesn't care who knows it.

"I hope you've been enjoying yourself," you say, and Thorn smirks, unable to tear his eyes away from the exposed skin.

"Well, Senator, I've been having a wonderful time," he murmurs, and he sees your eyes darken as his gaze flicks back up, a shiver running through you. "And it just keeps getting better and better."

"Commander," you say softly, a smile curling at the corner of your mouth. "This is a public event. We're supposed to be acting like professionals. And here you are, being so inappropriate."

"Ah, Senator," he says with a grin, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "There's nothing professional about the way I want to bend you over the nearest flat surface and fuck you senseless."

Your cheeks flush as you freeze, your lips parting, and Thorn’s smirk widens against your hand.

He's come to realize that, as much as you enjoy the flirting and teasing, the part that gets you going the most is when he's bold. When he's not afraid to tell you what he wants, not afraid to take what he wants. When he tells you how badly he needs to taste you, when he shows you just how much he craves you, the effect it has on you is immediate, and it's something he's grown very fond of.

You're usually so collected, so poised. The idea that he can make you melt like this, can break through the polished exterior and see the woman underneath, the woman that only he gets to see, is a heady feeling.

And Thorn can't get enough.

"Careful, Commander," you chide him, but there's no heat behind it.

You both know the rules. As much as the two of you may enjoy pushing the limits, neither of you are willing to compromise your professionalism, and neither of you are willing to put the other at risk. You have a reputation to uphold, and while it's not exactly illegal for the two of you to be together, it would be frowned upon, and it would be easy for the press to twist the story and create a scandal.

So the rules are simple.

When it's business, it's business. You're Senator, he's Commander, and you keep the lines drawn. You don't touch, don't flirt, don't do anything that would raise eyebrows or make people suspicious. The only people who know about the two of you are your friends and the other Commanders, and Thorn is confident that they can keep their mouths shut. Even if Fox had nearly passed out from shock when he'd found out.

As soon as the work is done, though, all bets are off. As soon as the two of you are alone, he doesn't hold back. And neither do you.

And, after three months, the lines have become blurred. The distinction between personal and professional is starting to fade. It's becoming more and more difficult to keep things strictly business. But the two of you manage.

For now.

"Senator," he says with a smirk. "I'm always careful."

Your gaze travels over him, a small smile curling at the corners of your lips, and Thorn feels a thrill run through him. There's a spark in your eyes, a heat that's simmering beneath the surface. He knows what you're thinking, and he can't blame you.

The two of you are alone. Well, as alone as you can be, considering there are hundreds of people milling around. But no one is paying attention, and Thorn can't resist the urge.

His hand turns to lace his fingers with yours, his grip firm. He doesn't move, doesn't take his eyes off you. He sees your cheeks flush, and your eyes widen.

"Senator," he says softly. You glance around, your gaze shifting from side to side. There's no one close enough to notice, and your lips curl into a smile, your fingers squeezing his.

"Commander," you reply. He squeezes your hand back, his eyes roaming over your face.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Your blush deepens, your eyes darting down, and you laugh. "You have, actually."

He hums, a low sound that rumbles in the back of his throat. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand, his gaze moving over the room. No one's looking, no one's paying attention. He doesn't have to worry about the others finding out.

"And have I mentioned how much I love the way you look in red?"

"Only a few times," you say with a grin. His lips twitch into a smile, and he steps forward, tightening his grip.

"Well, I do."

You laugh, and he feels a rush of affection surge through him. He's always loved the way you laugh, the way your whole face lights up. You have a great sense of humor, and Thorn finds himself laughing more and more, a result of your wit, and his growing fondness for you.

It's not just the sex.

Although the sex is definitely a huge part of it.

He loves talking to you, loves spending time with you. Loves seeing the way your face lights up when he walks in, the way you look at him when he kisses you, the way your eyes narrow when you're working. He loves the way you tease him, the way you push his buttons. The way you challenge him. The way you make him laugh.

He doesn't know how he's managed to find someone who makes him feel like this. But he's not about to complain. There isn’t a day that goes by where he isn’t grateful for the chance that brought the two of you together, and for the fact that he got his head out of his ass long enough to pursue it.

He doesn't think he's ever been this happy. And he can't imagine that feeling fading anytime soon.

"Thorn," you say softly, and his eyes lock with yours. "It's been three months. How are you still making me feel like this?"

He chuckles, a wry smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I could ask the same thing about you."

"Yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah," he says with a nod. He glances around the room once more before he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. He sees you freeze, your eyes going wide, and his lips curl into a smile.

"You know," he whispers, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "there are quite a few empty rooms in this building."

You shiver, your teeth catching your bottom lip, and he chuckles. "And what are you proposing, Commander?"

His grip tightens on your hand, and he feels your fingers dig into his palm. His lips brush against the skin behind your ear, and a soft whimper leaves your mouth.

"A very thorough and detailed demonstration of just how much I appreciate that color on you," he murmurs. He takes a moment to admire the blush coloring your cheeks. "If you're interested."

"Oh, I am," you say, your voice trembling slightly. Your eyes flick down to his mouth, and then back up to meet his. "Are you sure you're willing to risk it?"

"Sweetheart," he murmurs, a smile curving his lips, and then he lets go of your hand, his palm brushing down the length of your arm. "I'm always willing to risk it for you."

Your eyes narrow, a wicked smirk twisting at the corner of your mouth, and you turn and look over your shoulder. Thorn raises an eyebrow.

"Then you won’t mind dancing with me first," you say lightly.

Thorn freezes. His heart stutters. His eyes snap open.

"What?"

"Dancing," you say simply. "It's a pretty basic concept. Two people move in sync to music. Have you heard of it?"

“I’m familiar with the concept," he replies dryly. “I'm just not sure why you want to do it. Especially here."

"We're at a party, Thorn," you say with a grin. "It's what people do."

"But it's not what we do," he points out. He's not a dancer. In fact, he's never danced before. He has no idea what to do, no idea where to put his hands, or how to move. And the idea of doing it in front of all these people when there’s so much at stake is making him uncomfortable. "Why can't we just go somewhere private?"

"Because I'm having fun," you say with a shrug. Your expression is neutral, and there's a glint in your eye, and Thorn realizes that you're trying to mess with him. That you're pushing his buttons.

He narrows his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I see. You're playing games."

“Me? Play games? Never."

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. He should have seen this coming. He should have known that you would push the envelope. He's spent the past three months testing the boundaries, and he can't fault you for returning the favor.

Besides, there's something about the way you're smirking up at him, the challenge shining in your eyes, that makes him want to prove himself. Makes him want to show you just how bold he can be.

“You’re serious?” he asks. You nod, a smile curving your lips.

"Absolutely."

Thorn sighs. His heart pounds, his pulse racing, and he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking to the crowd. He can't believe he's actually considering it. Can't believe that he's seriously contemplating doing something so reckless, something so stupid. Something so completely insane. He can’t believe you’re asking him to dance in the middle of a crowded ballroom as if there aren’t hundreds of eyes watching, as if people aren't constantly talking and judging.

He can't believe he's even thinking about it.

But then again, maybe he should.

Maybe this is what the two of you need. Maybe this is the best way to finally make the lines between personal and professional disappear. Maybe it's the best way to prove that he's serious. That he's in this. That you're more important to him than any of it.

It's a risk. A big risk.

“You know, Commander," you say, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, and his heart flutters, "you don’t have to do it if you don't want to."

He swallows, his throat tightening, and his eyes meet yours.

Your gaze is warm, and soft, and full of affection. And for a moment, Thorn is overwhelmed.

This is it.

This is the moment.

He can see the emotion written across your face, can feel the intensity of your gaze, and he can't help the wave of love that surges through him. He can't hold back. Not anymore. Not now. Not after everything.

His heart beats faster, his stomach knotting. He knows he should think about this, should take his time, should consider his next move.

But he can't.

It's now or never.

Thorn’s lips curl into a smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's short, and sweet, and chaste, but it's the first time the two of you have kissed in public. The first time the two of you have let anyone see just how close the two of you are.

His lips brush against yours, and then he pulls away, his eyes searching your face.

"No," he says slowly. "I want to. I really, really want to."

He takes a deep breath, his gaze sweeping over the room. He sees the people milling about, the senators, the delegates, the dignitaries, and he can't help but smirk. It's like a challenge, and he can't resist.

"Just promise me you'll tell me if I step on your feet," he says lightly. You grin, a spark of mischief flashing in your eyes, and then his hand is taking yours, pulling you towards the dance floor

He feels the eyes of the crowd following him as he leads you through the room. He knows that they're wondering what's going on. Why one of the clone Commanders is escorting a senator onto the dance floor. Why he's smiling. Why you're laughing. He knows they're wondering why the two of you are standing so close.

But he doesn't care.

All he cares about is the way you're looking at him.

"Thorn," you murmur, and his grip tightens on your waist, his free hand grasping yours. He checks to make sure he’s got it right, and then his eyes meet yours, his heart hammering against his chest. "You don't have to do this. You can change your mind."

"I know," he says, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "I don't want to."

"Okay," you whisper, a soft smile gracing your lips.

"Hey," he says softly, and you look up at him, your gaze locking with his. "I love you."

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat, and for a moment, Thorn panics. Maybe he's gone too far. Maybe he's moved too fast. Maybe you weren't ready to hear it.

But then your smile widens, a light chuckle leaving your mouth, and you lean up, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. "I love you too."

His chest tightens, and he laughs, his forehead dropping down to press against yours. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then the two of you begin to move.

You're graceful as always, and he's pleased to discover that, while he may not be a dancer, he's not terrible. And while the music is loud, and the room is full, it's almost like the two of you are the only ones there.

The world falls away. The lights dim. The crowd disappears. It's just the two of you, holding each other, swaying in time to the music.

Thorn looks down at you, a soft smile on his lips, and he leans in, his mouth brushing against yours. Your lips part under his touch, and his tongue darts out, teasing, tasting, and then he pulls away.

"We should do this more often," you murmur. He smiles, his nose brushing against yours.

"You have a habit of making me do things I wouldn't normally do.”

You chuckle. "It's a gift."

"I think it's more than that," he says, and you grin.

"What do you mean?"

"I think," he says, his thumb stroking along your waist, "that you're just so irresistible that I can't help myself."

Your gaze drifts to his mouth, your tongue darting out and running over your bottom lip, and Thorn smirks.

"I think that might be the case for both of us," you say with a smirk. Thorn laughs, shaking his head.

"Senator, are you saying that you can't help yourself around me?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Well then," he murmurs, his hand squeezing yours, and then he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, "we should probably find one of those empty rooms and make good on my proposal."

You laugh, a low, sultry sound, and Thorn feels his blood heating, his skin tingling. His fingers tighten on your waist, and his hips press against yours.

"I think that's an excellent idea, Commander."

His lips brush against the skin just below your ear, and then he pulls back, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "Let's go, Senator."

The two of you move off the dance floor, heading towards the back of the room, and Thorn glances over his shoulder.

There are eyes watching, whispers spreading, and he knows that, come morning, the two of you are going to be the talk of the city. He's going to be fielding calls from his fellow Commanders and the Chancellor, and there's going to be a mountain of paperwork and questions and interviews. There's going to be a media circus, and he knows that the next few weeks are going to be a nightmare.

But for once, he doesn't care.

Because he loves you, and you love him, and that's all that matters.

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

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

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

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

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

@marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish

@floofyroro @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @meshlajetii

#commander thorn #commander thorn x reader #thorn x reader #coruscant guard #the clone wars #clone x reader #tcw thorn #tcw thorn x reader #roy writes #500 follower celebration #cheesy ending but idc #putting this to bed before i decide to write even more #sorry to Fox for posting this on his day #wait it's also #corrieweek #???#so much is happening

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sapphicbookclub · 11 months ago

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This Gilded Abyss by Rebecca Thorne

Sergeant Nix Marr is a damn good soldier. She’s also desperate to leave her haunted past deep in the bioluminescent ocean, buried alongside her best friend, Quian. So, when Subarch Kessandra, Valkesh’s favorite royal–and Nix’s loathed ex–requests Nix’s help investigating a massacre in the abyssal city of Fall, Nix refuses. Vehemently.

She should have known Kessandra would fight back.

Consigned as Kessandra’s bodyguard, Nix grudgingly boards the Luminosity, a luxurious submersible that offers the only transportation to Fall. But Kessandra wasn’t truthful–surprise, surprise–and her “investigation” isn’t about the massacre, but rather what caused it: an illness that incites its victims into a violent craze.

When another royal is brutally murdered, Nix and Kess realize the disease has spread–and no one on the Luminosity is safe. If they’re going to survive until Fall, they’ll have to trust each other… but considering Kessandra is responsible for Quian’s death, that won’t be easy.

Genres: fantasy, horror, romance

Order from Blackwell's here and get free worldwide shipping!

#sapphic books #lgbt books #wlw books #booklr #book recs #fantasy

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kotemf · 1 month ago

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An endless supply of homemade meals and knit sweaters for the Coruscant Guard

It all started when Cringe helped a random old lade cross a busy street.

It was Cringe's second day on Coruscant and he was patrolling on one of the upper levels along with Rys. When he saw an old granny with a cane afraid to step into the street, he didn't hesitate to help. That's why they were there, right? To help people.

So he helped this lady cross the street, she thanked him and Cringe wanted to leave.

"Not so fast, young man. Why don't you walk with me to my apartment, I have some cake."

Cringe wasn't sure why she wanted him to go home with her and he also wasn't sure why the information about having cake - that was a nat-born meal, wasn't it? - was relevant but refusing this old lady felt rude. So he went along with it.

He was grateful that he did. Apparently, the cake was relevant. Cringe got to eat as much of it as he could and got the rest packed in a box to take back to the barracks. The lady was good company, too. She was very lonely, her husband died five years ago and her only son moved away and was so focused on career he hardly took time to call her once in a while. She invited Cringe to come over again. And who was Cringe to refuse?

There was something going on in the mess hall. There was a huge group of troopers around one of the tables. They were sharing something and looked like they were having fun. What was it? Spice, maybe?

"Commander!" One of the shinies, Cringe, noticed Fox looking at them. "Do you want some?"

Honestly, Fox could do with some good stuff. "Sure."

He didn't get spice. He didn't even get a death stick. He got a tiny piece of cake with pink frosting. Where the kriff did they even get that?

Thorn was sitting at the reception desk in the Coruscant Guard headquarters. He hated reception duty. It was all about explaining irritated senators that no, it wasn't the Guard's job to stand at their speeder to make sure no one scratched it and that if they needed a bodyguard, they had to fill a request and then wait for a clone officer to authorize it, and no they couldn't just barge in and take two troopers.

"Next!" he called out after the last senator left.

"Hello."

Thorn closed his eyes under his helmet, the opened them again. Either he was going crazy or there was an ancient, smiling lady in front of him. Not their typical visitor.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Glitch."

Thorn has never been good at remembering names but it sounded like a clone name. Did some poor shiny offend this lady? "I'm sorry, he is unavailable at the moment."

"Then give him this, please."

"Of course, ma'am," Thorn said instinctively as he examined the rather large package the lady put on the counter.

"Thank you, dear."

Before Thorn could process that, the lady was gone. Curious, he peaked inside the package. It wasn't everyday that a trooper received a gift. He hoped it wasn't a bomb or something like that.

"Hey guys, do you know where Glitch might be?" Thorn asked a group of troopers in the barracks as soon as his shift was over.

"Over there, playing cards."

Thorn thanked him quickly before jogging over to the gamblers. He saw one of them quickly hiding something in his pocket. Fox didn't mind playing sabacc in the slightest but he didn't like it when troopers bet things, whether it were rare credits or just supplies like ration bars. Thorn didn't really know what the troopers were betting, if they lost their blasters in sabacc, well, that wasn't Thorn's problem. But being a commander, he wasn't trusted not to tell Fox.

"Commander."

"At ease. I have a package for Glitch."

"That's me, sir."

Thorn handed the shiny his package. He still didn't quite know what the contents were, he didn't peak that much. The only thing he knew was that there was something white and soft.

Thorn watched the shiny unpack two fluffy sweaters and various containers of nat-born food. What the heck?

Glitch, of course, visited the kind lady to thank her. He left with a huge box of cookies and an invitation to come over for dinner.

The dinners became a regular occurrence. It didn't take long and Glitch got asked to call her grandma. He even had the honor of meeting the bingo club and was also told to start bringing friends. Grandma and her friends from bingo were furious when they found out the Guard only got to eat ration bars and that they were always freezing because there was no heating in the barracks.

All troopers had sweaters now. They were warm and soft, not like their blacks. And grandma and her friends from the knitting club even took time to make each trooper who came to talk to them their custom sweater that matched their armor. They even convinced grandma to knit a sweater with fox for their grumpy commander.

Somehow, the whole thing ended the war.

The world had no idea why numerous complaints about the treatment of clones were coming to the senate from a senior house and a knitting club for lonely grandmas of all places. They had no idea how the chancellor later revealed Sith lord happened to get stabbed to death with knitting needless or why a surprising number of clones from the Guard decided to go help out to old people now that they were free of all things they could've chosen.

But the Corries knew. They knew and they would never tell.

#star wars #clone wars #coruscant guard #corrieweek #corrieweek2024 #fix it fic #adoption #sort of #the corries have a grandma now #fan fiction #star wars fan fiction

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enretrogue · 10 months ago

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𝗗𝗘𝗖𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟭)

.☘︎ ݁˖ = BLACK/POC WORKS | 23' FIC REC M.LIST

PEAKY BLINDERS

ALFIE SOLOMONS

Destiny — @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away

A Brother For Cyril ⎢ Part Two — @muneca-lemon-steppa

You Love Is Enough — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Evenings At Home — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Good Girl — @ukrainianmotherfucker

Interviews For New Beginnings ⎢ Part 2 ⎢ Part 3 ⎢ Part 4 ⎢ Part 5 ⎢ Part 6 — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Kisses For Bad Days — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Change Of Plans — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Married Life w/ Alfie Solomons HCs — @muneca-lemon-steppa

All Kinds of Trouble — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Overstimulation + Praise Kink — @fandom-puff

Rum and Soap — @dearshleby

Always — @muneca-lemon-steppa

MICHAEL GRAY

Show You How Much I Love You — @roguerogerss

I Can Imagine — @xoxoavenger

THOMAS SHELBY

At the End of the Day — @lis-likes-fics

The Complaint — @look-at-the-soul

Midnight Interlude — @awritesthings1

Gone with the Leaves — @awritesthings1

Numbers — @mrkdvidal1989

Train Left - Moments Passed — @mrkdvidal1989

Ignoble Sins — @cillmequick

Empty Promises — @fallatyourfeet

You Have More To Lose Than You Take — @mrkdvidal1989

Bloodstained Hands — @mrkdvidal1989

Look At Me — @simplyundeniable98

Time After Time Chapter 13 — @all-mirth-no-matter

A Moment of Happiness — @gypsy-girl-08

Christmas Lights — @mrkdvidal1989

First Christmas — @acewritesfics

Eye Fucking Each Other — @mrkdvidal1989

All I Need — @gypsy-girl-08

Promotion — @acewritesfics

No Man Works Alone — @muneca-lemon-steppa

TRIPLE FRONTIER

BENNY MILLER

The Best One — @theewokingdead

Are You On Mute? ⎢ Part Two — @rhoorl

Ask Prompt — @bullet-prooflove

Are You Going To Be Quiet? — @rhoorl

FRANCISCO “FRANKIE” “CATFISH” MORALES

Bluffing Season — @beskarandblasters

Mesmerized — @endlessthxxghts

New Year’s Day — @hellishjoel

My Home Is You — @chronically-ghosted

Stars — @trulybetty

Need You — @endlessthxxghts

Cravings ⎢ Crash ⎢ Insatiable — @pedge-page

Merry Christmas Cariño — @joelsflannel

All I Want For Christmas — @morallyinept

WILL MILLER

When Sleep Comes Easy — @laurfilijames

Just A Little Push — @missdictatorme

Kinktober 2023: Sexual Exhaustion — @gosmigenergy

Clusterfuck — @velicibeewords

All I Want — @laurfilijames

TRIPLE FRONTIER BOYS

Company — @pimosworld

The Story of Us Masterlist — @pimosworld

TSOU AU ⎢ Never Have I Ever ⎢ Down The Rabbit Hole ⎢ Santa’s A Homewrecker — @pimosworld

What Benny Doesn’t Know Masterlist — @backtothefanfiction

THE GRAY MAN

SIERRA SIX/COURT GENTRY

The Nurse Series ⎢ 2 ⎢ 3 ⎢ 4 ⎢ 5 ⎢ 6 ⎢ 7 — @heresthestorymorningglory

The Spy Next Door — @renren-006

Homework Problems — @renren-006

Wide Open Spaces — @elusivewildflower

Hurt You — @j4desblurbs

Bodyguard!Sierra Six — @wiidvw .☘︎ ݁˖

Safe Hands — @hollandstrophyhusband

Bodyguard!Sierra Six — @wiidvw .☘︎ ݁˖

Aftercare w. Sierra Six — @ken-dom

Bodyguard!Sierra Six — @wiidvw .☘︎ ݁˖

BATMOM

See You Soon (+ Jason Todd) — @reveluving

Batmom’s Biggest Fan — @silly-thinkings

The Bat in the Shadows ⎢ Part 2 ⎢ Part 3 — @ynscrazylife

Long Overdue Masterlist — @apocalypse-shuffle

Love Thorns All Over This Rose ⎢ Part Two — @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms

Harmony (+Dick Grayson) — @soriseerakyra

Batprank ⎢ Part Two — @ciaraswritings

Unexpected — @ciaraswritings

Ballet (ft. Cass Cain) — @reveluving

I Want To See My Little Boy (ft. Damian Wayne) — @dragon-chica

BRUCE WAYNE/BATMAN

Gossip and Galas — @ciaraswritings

DICK GRAYSON/NIGHTWING

The Graysons — @hannibals-favourite-meal

BATSIS

Alleviate The Pain (Platonic!Dick Grayson) — @pugh-pugh-pugh-pugh

#navigation

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im-poltergeist · 4 months ago

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Towers and Thorns (Fanfic vers)

tags: bodyguard!Ghost x royal!reader, older Ghost, first fic, might be crappy idk, multiple parts, might be nsfw down the line, english is not my first language so feel free to correct me. 🌻

Part 1 🌻 Part 2 🌻 Part 3

"Do you have to keep bending the rules", he asks from the doorway to your room. You scoff at the question.

"This is hardly bending the rules. The skirt is just above knee length", you answer, glaring at the balaclava clad man stood before you.

"Not sure I agree with that, your highness", his cold eyes scanning your figure. You groan and shove him out the door. Whats the matter with him anyway.

You walk over to your closet and stare at the skirts. Apparently the light blue one you had on was "inappropriate". You pick out a white, patterned one instead and hope that it is acceptable. You roll your eyes. The bodyguard you had before him, before Ghost, wouldn't have batted an eye at that skirt. But at the same time he was off fucking a maid in some linnen closet while Marshall ambushed you in that corridor and kissed you. The memory makes you shudder.

Marshall seems to think that he is entitled to you. Just because your parents didn't say an outright no when his parents talked about marriage, he's disgusting.

You tried to tell your father that you didn't want the kiss and that Marshall kissed you without your consent but he wouldn't have it. "Think about how this could reflect on your mother reputation. Sneaking off, kissing boys." That's what he had to say about the matter. Speaking about you as if you were a young, rebellious teenager. You are, in fact, an adult. You had been for a good while now. You had gone through your teen years without any major scandals. The same couldn't be said for your cousins.

You open the door and are faced with arms crossed over a broad chest clad by a black t-shirt, tight enough to reveal strong shoulders and muscular arms, and cold eyes staring down at you from the gap in his balaclava.

"Better", you ask, eyes narrowing.

"Much", he replies and steps aside.

Ghost opens the door to the dining hall for you and you nod a thank you to him. Your father is sat near the end of the table,, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. He looks up as you enter.

"Good morning Dad. Good morning Gaz", you say to the dark-skinned man stood behind him.

"Important day today", your father replies, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Im aware", you sit down at the chair opposite his. You scoop a spoonful of scrambled eggs and another of bacon down on to your plate.

"Make sure to behave. We don't need the President or the American press to get the wrong impression", he reminds you for what feels like the hundredth time this week.

"I know", you acknowledge, eyes fixed on your plate. Fork moving the eggs around aimlessly.

"Good. We can't afford a scandal", your father adds and rises from his chair. Hand nudging your shoulder as he walks past you and out of the door. Gaz a few steps behind him. The door shuts with a dull thud. You drop your fork on to your plate with a clink and put your head in your hands. Why does he always always talk about you like you're an accident waiting to happen. You feel Ghosts eyes burning in to your back.

"You don't have to just stand there, you know. You can sit down", you turn your head to look at him. His brown eyes meeting yours before walking slowly over towards the chair next to yours. Pulling it out and turning it so that he faces you. He sits down. Arms crossed over his chest and one of his leggs resting on his knee. You pour some water in to your glass and do the same to his. Ghosts eyes still boring in to yours. You sigh.

"Whats the matter", you ask him. Something clearly occupying his mind.

"Do you have a drinking problem or something, your highness", he questions you.

"What? No", you shriek. How could he think such a thing.

"A guy just kissed me at the last event and my dad thinks Im going to go into a late teenage rebellion. Besides, you would have notised if I had a drinking problem by now", you continue shaking your head.

"Guess you're right", he replies. His voice having and unreadable tone. Your eyes move towards the grandfather clock at the other end of the room. It reads half past ten. Shit. You stand up and the chair almost tips behind you. Ghost rises, eyes darting around the room to find the source of your sudden move.

"Im gonna be late", You clarify and hurry out the door. Ghost a few steps behind you.

You make it to the front door with less than a minute to spare. Your parents are stood talking and turn around when you approach with quick steps. You come to a halt behind them. Smiling at your mother. She smiles back and turns towards the men beside the door. Gaz and Price are on either side of the door. Ready to follow their queens order. Your mother nods to them and the doors open. You face the light erupting from the gap and put on a smile that you hope looks natural. The forgotten breakfast on your plate makes itself reminded as your stomach churns. You feel Ghosts eyes burn into the back of your head and you step outside into the light.

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cantareincminor · 2 months ago

Note

How would a TwiYor identity reveal happen if Handler was the one assigned as Thorn Princess’ target, but WISE had warning but no one knew who would target her?

Ah, interesting question! Let me spitball a few scenarios:

Twilight is assigned as a bodyguard: Perhaps he and Nightfall and a few other agents would be on rotation watching Sylvia's back. By coincidence he would be on watch the night Thorn Princess makes her move. Then he and Sylvia would both find out that Yor is Thorn Princess. Perhaps both of them would be in disguise, so she wouldn't know that Loid is Twilight. With Twilight and Sylvia combining forces, they might be able to escape her successfully. And then Sylvia and Twilight would have a massive argument about what to do next. Does he go home and continue to play house with an assassin? Does he abort Strix right away and leave Yor to wonder what happened to Loid? He would probably argue for the former because he's already compromised. He would argue that he could best monitor Thorn Princess by continuing the farce. And perhaps find out more about Garden.

Twilight follows her: Similar to the one above, with a few differences. Twilight is not a bodyguard, but perhaps he hears of the approximate date and time that the attack will happen. He then notices Yor leaving the house or that she made an excuse about staying out late. Or, Anya warns him with one of Bond's visions. And he ends up following Yor and realizes that she is Thorn Princess.

Bad ending: Sylvia dies: Despite Sylvia's vast expertise and all the precautions WISE takes, Thorn Princess is just too good and still manages to kill her. But it isn't an easy kill. Sylvia recognizes Yor and is able to compose an encrypted message or somehow leave behind evidence of who she is for Twilight to find. In the aftermath of WISE losing its leader, in the dearth of options, Twilight is forced to step into the role of interim handler. He becomes Thorn Princess' new target. He has already taken Anya and fled Park Avenue. Since he knows Yor well, he's able to plan ahead and orchestrate a meeting of his choosing. It's an emotional showdown and identity reveal conversation which may end in a detente.

Spoiler for Orpheus under the cut:

One of my earlier outlines for Orpheus had a scenario where Sylvia dies in the ambush. And Twilight has to take her place as commanding officer of WISE, and leave his family. The fic would have then split into parallel paths of Twilight's journey trying to pick up the pieces at WISE and figure out how to heal Yuri and reconcile with Yor, vs. Yor staying with Anya, slowly coming to terms with who Loid truly is mostly with Anya's support, and deciding to find him no matter what it takes.

#spy x family #writing #fanfic #twiyor #yor forger #loid forger #agent twilight #sylvia sherwood

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lunarw0rks · 1 year ago

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Old Bones | Epilogue

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.

Warning(s): mild angst & language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: The long-procrastinated final chapter of this series. Thank you for all the patience and support, for those who wanted this resolution.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ˖⁺‧₊˚ ask box ˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist ꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST

Epilogue

It wasn’t paradise. It wasn’t heaven. It wasn’t an excursion.

But it was all there, right before your eyes. The void of civilization — the tranquility of nature; both cruel and unrelenting, yet the closest to nirvana a human eye can see. The images you viewed through a screen were nowhere near as breathtaking as the sight in front of you.

The quaint lake house was nestled within a dense forest, the trees caked in bitter frost that traveled its way to your warm and exposed flesh. Then there was the lake, the breathtaking centerpiece in your irises. Shimmering hues of aquamarine and sage, swashing and dribbling across the rocky shore with every pass of its mellow waves. The body of water stretched for miles, farther than your eye could see. It was trees, dirt, moss, the lake, and the azure sky encasing it all.

This is what you needed, what you craved whilst cooped up in your torn-up residence. Not solitude from fleeing, not this time. Voluntary isolation was all it was in its purest, most natural form. Though you weren’t alone on this getaway, you wasted hours gazing at the unparalleled allure of the wilderness.

You had no ties anymore. No thorned ring on your left hand, no financial strain keeping you overworked until a hopeless retirement. Freedom was the newest taste on the tip of your tongue, passionate and liberating. Most significantly, Simon found a close second on that list of novel freedoms.

The lakehouse itself is charming; too charming for this type of funereal retreat.

Updated, almost completely modernized on the inside with spendy furniture and new fixtures. The wooden exterior that stretches to the inside is its only peculiarity, aside from the backwoods you’re staring at. Stained with warm, earthy tones that have weathered for who knows how long. Whoever renovated the land must’ve seen the same character in it that you did — how its very appearance hints at an enduring history with the land.

On the wooden porch, you nursed a mug and maintained your deliberating gaze. Behind you, the screen door creaked open, “y’ alright? Bloody freezing out here.” Simon spoke, and you turned around with a disconcerted jerk. In truth, you had forgotten how long it’d been, and time had escaped you.

You had spaced his presence completely. Ironic, considering you were the one who urged him to accompany you. Although it was understandable, considering the burly man was as stealthy as a mouse.

“I’m okay.” You muted, giving him your best attempt at a smile. “Thank you, Si.” That was a new one. But it felt right when you said it.

His boots hit the wood with soft thumps as he approached, as quiet as a brute could be on a creaky deck. As the door closed behind him, the loose snow built up on the overhang scattered and fell. Simon dusted off the lounge chair parallel to you and seated himself, taking in the same sight you were currently. “Don’t know why you bother. The view is the same from the window.” You turn your head, spotting the natural bounce of his leg, as if he was always in a state of unrest.

You shrug your shoulders, unsure of the reason yourself, “guess I’m savoring it. Can’t stay here forever, can we?” He responds with a whispered scoff, showing his agreement. Isolation wasn’t what he wanted, despite how he loathed humanity.

He needed the sounds of the people, the city, to feel even an ounce of being a part of them. Whether he knew it or not, Simon himself wasn’t sure either. “Suppose not. It’s too… peaceful.” His speech wavered whilst looking for the right word.

“I think we deserve some peace.” You reply, despite the irony of all the blood and grief it took to get here.

Simon fell silent again, for several seconds. The hand on his thigh began twitching a bit, his fingers stimming in a patterned motion — the way they always did when he contemplated. You had been looking at the view again until his stillness was noticeable.

“You do, sweetheart.” He affirmed before you opened your mouth again, fingers going motionless with relief.

In your chest, you felt a tinge of resentment. Questions began to buzz again, pertaining to the twisted connection you two had gotten stuck in. What the hell were you doing? Where was this going? What did he want? All those pesky answers far, far away in the distance — with no promise of ever catching up with them.

But you felt it. Every atom and bit of what you had been through with him, and what it meant. It wasn’t analytical. It was human, this need to never part with him. To think, when this all began, you envisioned a life of recluse and romantic aversion until your wrinkled body went cold.

You weren’t corrupted, or if you were, it didn’t trouble him. For that, you were plunged into the constant unease of feelings. It was the closest experience to hell on Earth; being in love with him felt worse than fearing the man you thought you were.

“What do you want? After this?” You forced out the words, despite not wishing to speak another to him. It wasn’t a series of questions — they were accusations. Perhaps pushing him out would be better than letting him in, but that didn’t seem so easy. Your heart couldn’t differentiate love and hate; they were synonymous.

The change in tone didn’t phase him. It couldn’t, it was part of the bargain, and he knew it. “Don’t know.” He huffed, standing up from his chair with a grunt.

You weren’t satisfied with the answer. How could you be? Two words? There weren’t enough in all the languages to express how you felt. The mug in your hands was set on the outdoor table, followed by a shuffle of your footing.

Now, you stood in front of him with furrowed brows. “You don’t know? So, what? I go back to the city, live in that damn house, and forget everything you did for me?”

“If that’s what you want.” Simon unquestioned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his bomber jacket. His nonchalance was going to be the death of you.

You rubbed your temple and let out a hefty sigh, expecting to see him gone when you looked up again. He wasn’t; he was still there, a doleful demeanor written all over him. “What does that mean, Simon? You, wandering around the city until you get yourself killed? I don’t want to forget you or remember you that way.”

“Then don’t.” He snapped, yet didn’t take on a stance of annoyance. “You want me in the bloody city with you? I’ll go. You want me to piss off? Say the words.” Your mouth hung open slightly, lips wavering as you sputtered.

His brows furrowed, the same as yours, but his feelings were different. It wasn’t a mix of love and hate; it was yearning. A complex, agonizing yearning that he had ceased in fighting. “I hate the bloody city, but I don’t hate you.” Simon added, sending the conversation into silence again. For him, it was the closest you’d get to those three words. Though, they might as well have had the same meaning.

Instead of retorting, your tense shoulders relaxed, as did your parted lips. You finally had your answer — still complicated — but an answer. It was the future, the path you knew you were coming back home on.

To be followed back into the city, having another half to fill the empty space of the lonely house. And how it’d eventually be furnished to your liking, dazzled with the selections you’d circled in the catalog. Put together and posed by Simon himself, and thanked with a kiss. Breaking in the fireplace, spending holidays as if they weren’t holidays at all, preventing any reminder of the sour memories you both had.

The chest you rest your head on, steady and synced with the putter of your heart. The organ isn’t healed, forever cracked and pumping to his rhythm. The hand resting on your shoulder, scarred and twitching while he contemplates what you’ll have for dinner. His pressing thoughts are trivial, coming a long way from war and life-or-death.

Of all the lives impacted by those hands, the one he’d saved mattered most.

TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme @tooruen @cran-berry-vodka @arctichotch @neadivana

#mw2 #call of duty #mw2 fanfic #simon riley #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 x reader

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wings-of-fire-confessions · 7 months ago

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ultimate ship confession lets go (well not really but here's what i think):

cleril: isn't in a great place right now, but it has potential to be good. i like them a little more platonically. people need to stop ignoring peril's character development omg.

glorybringer: i'm too tired to care at this point. this has been debated to death.

blacier: it's kind of cute (well, the fandom version is; canon is more toxic and that's less of my thing. good for you if you like that though). no strong opinions.

jamapple: POSSIBLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE SHIPS 💖💖💖💖 they got their spotlight in OND BOOK and that's all they needed to win me over. the flashback to them snuggling in the hammock????? MY HEARTTTTT 💕💕💕💕💞

mastermind x chameleon: i have seen this shipped maybe twice. and i can't get it out of my head. it's just so interesting to me.

winter x kinkajou: wait...... maybe? a part of me thinks they could be cute, but most of me says pass.

ripnami: somewhat has potential; is currently very boring and questionable. i'm not against tsunami having a love interest, but i'm loosing faith in riptide. riptide i KNOW you can become interesting please do literally anything before you bore me to death.

lunatail: they're adorable together!!! obsessed with them omg. people need to talk about them more (for my sake).

clearsight x sunstreak: no opinions; seems fine. i feel like most of the people who hate this ship hate it because they wanted clearsight and darkstalker to get together. which. 🤨

moonbli: it's just okay. a little cute, slightly bland. could get better as they develop their relationship.

quinter: i normally love these types of dynamics, but i'm not interested in quinter? no idea why. i guess like them more platonically.

sunnyflight: uhhh no. don't like this one. i think sunny kindly shutting starflight down and him being okay with that is very refreshing.

whiteout x thoughtful: i feel like people forget about them a lot..... and i can see why. i really think it's cute how they're both artists, but they just don't have much momentum.

glacier x boa: i find this one is more compelling than blacier. glacier crying when she heard boa's backstory... girl me too.

smolder x thorn: i started to appreciate this one so much more when i read smolder's section in the guidebook. that man was a sopping wet disaster. hope they're happy together. i really like them.

sunnyspeaker: seems very cute! no strong opinions. i'd feel a little bad for starflight lmao.

mangrove x orchid: 💖💖💖💖💖💖 I LOVE THEM AND I NEED TO KNOW HOW THEY'RE DOING.

anemone x tamarin: anemone SERIOUSLY needs a good influence, so i think tamarin would be good for her. i'm very curious and i want to see their relationship develop.

winterwatcher: ehhhhhh. i can see the vision, but the vision isn't for me.

scarlet x burn: no. love LOOSES 🔥🔥🔥 the only love for burn is BLOODSHED.

starspeaker: it's cute. that's it. idk. i used to not like them together, but now i think they're fine.

sunlow: 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 THEMMMM!!!! the flashback to their first meeting had me giggling and kicking my feet.

darksight: no. their relationship was very interesting and complex and well written, but from a shipping standpoint??? no way in HELL.

kinkajou x moon: it's cute! no strong opinions. stuck between whether i would like them more as friends or lovers.

clearsight x listener: fun to entertain, but i like them better as friends. if clearsight stayed on pyrrhia, listener would've turned her into a wine mom and they would gossip.

lynxfall: no strong opinions. they're both gay as hell and seem right for each other, but i'm just not really interested. again, no idea why.

anemone x pike: i DO like the bodyguard trope... but anemone x tamarin has more potential in my eyes.

blicket: kind of a guilty pleasure for me....... YES it was rushed but they're really cute this each other. luna imagining that wedding tapestry of them...... melting my heart.

umber x qibli: sounds cute. i like the idea of umber crushing on qibli and then finding someone else though.

turtlejou: meh. has a little potential, but is mostly boring to me. i appreciate how kinkajou was honest with turtle about her feelings at the end.

blister x morrowseer: idk. if they were married i think they would try to poison kill each other 24/7.

carnelian x moon: ehhhh, not for me. i don't like it that much. maybe because carnelian is kind of an eh character to me (SORRYYY i know a lot of you guys are carnelian girlies).

fathom x indigo: glad they got a happy ending. wish we got to see them interact a liiiiiiiiitle more, but i like them.

pertle: no. they're besties and you can't change my mind.

snowfall x sky: thought about this one for a while...... but..... ehhhhhhhhhhhhh...... no.

coral x blister: no.

jambringer: again, very fun to entertain; i can see the vision. but i can't abandon the jamapple ship 😤

arcticslayer: probably one of the most realistic relationships in the book. very conflicted about them. i think they were more attracted to the ideas of each other. maybe.

ok i KNOW there's more ships but i'm cutting it off here because this is getting long. also i haven't read the winglets so idk what's going on over there.

if you're hurt by my opinions and want to rage over them, you're a baby. ship whatever you want (so long as it's not really really weird); i do NOT care.

#wings of fire confessions #wof confessions #wof #wings of fire #shipping

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cc1010fox · 9 months ago

Text

Episode 8 Wolffe, while shuffling into the room with a cam: Sorry. The guys want another episode while they're aw--Is that a tubie? Fox, wide-eyed like he's been caught: ...No? Wolffe, zooming in on the tubie and smiling at the collective, "Awww!" resonating in his ears: Is that your tubie? Fox: You really think I did anything with a natborn woman? Wolffe: ...Then whose--? Thorn, after walking in: Whose tubie is that? Fox: Faryn's... Thorn: Isn't that one of your bodyguards? Fox: Yeah. He broke him out of the Temple for the day, but some dirtbag earned himself a march to the prison. I offered to do it myself, but Faryn insisted he wouldn't let having his son for the day interfere with his job. Thorn, smiling: I think he just wanted his son to bond with his boss~. Cody, through the speaker: Is this part of the episode? Rex, also through the speaker: Shhh! Fox, after clearing his throat: Thorn, nau'ika, you know I love you, right? Wolffe: Here it comes! The absent Cody, Rex, and Bly: Shhh! Thorn: Uh oh...That's a bad sign... Fox: No, I...just wanted to tell you that. It has nothing to do with anything. I just want you to know I love you. With everything that makes me me, I love you. Honestly, that love comes from the best parts of me...which says a lot about how I feel about you... Thorn, with a hand over his heart: ...Fox... Rex: Wolffe, pan the camera down. Wolffe, doing as told: Like that? Rex, clearly more interested in the tubie: Look at the little--Hi, little guy! Cody, look at his-- Bly: Guys, the episode! Fox, shifting the tubie to his other hip when he gets a little fussy: No matter what happens to me, or between us, never forget that, ok? Thorn, touching Fox's cheek, then promptly taking the tubie away from him to pat him on the back to try to calm him down: Fox, I-- Wolffe: Hey, Thorn, I can take the tubie. Thorn, after handing the tubie to Wolffe: Fox, I...love you so much...The fact that this decision is hard for you scares me... Cody: For kriff--Wolffe, why'd you have to give the tubie the camera? All I can see is the inside of his mouth! Wolffe: He wanted it! Look at how happy he is! Rex: Awww! It doesn't have any detachable parts, right? Bly: WHAT'S HAPPENING BETWEEN FOX AND THORN!? Thorn: Are you really having that hard of a time with it? Fox: ...I wish I wasn't, nau'ika...You deserve better than this... Thorn, resting a hand on Fox's cheek, not that anyone but Wolffe can see: Stop that...I get to decide what I deserve, ok? I deserve this honesty from you...and I think I deserve something else too... Fox: Something else? Bly: DID I JUST HEAR THAT!? Cody: WOLFFE, AIM THE CAMERA AT THEM! Rex: DON'T YOU DARE TAKE IT AWAY FROM OUR NEPHEW! Wolffe: ...I'm trying so hard to keep my emotions in check so I don't scare the tubie. Thorn: Yes...Give me a few days. You'll see what I mean. Fox: Now I'm scared... Thorn: Don't be. This is a good thing. I promise. Wolffe, after waiting about three minutes: Wait...Is that it? Fox: I mean...I don't really have any reason to-- Wolffe: THAT'S STILL A CLIFFHANGER! Fox, after taking the tubie from Wolffe since the outburst made him cry: Get out. Thorn: How could you, Wolffe? Rex: You're the worst ba'vodu. Cody: Out of line, Wolffe. Bly: But...what's going to happen to Fox and-- Wolffe: Wh--I--M-my camera... Fox: You owe him your camera. Wolffe: ...Fine...

Episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

#Commander Fox #Commander Thorn #Commander Wolffe #Commander Cody #Captain Rex #Commander Bly #Vencuyanir ‖ Queue

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jetii · 1 month ago

Text

Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

Part One | Part Three

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

Words: 8,675 / 34,682

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

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

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

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

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

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

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

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

"Senator," he says, his tone sharp.

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

"Senator, we need to talk."

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

"Yes, we do," he insists.

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

Thorn scowls. "Yes."

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

"Senator, please."

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

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

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

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

"Commander—"

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Senator—“

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

"A party?"

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

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

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

"You can't go."

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

"No, but—"

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

"Senator, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Commander—"

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

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

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

"I'll be the perfect gentleman."

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

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

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

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

He has a feeling that you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thorn raises a brow. "Loosen up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that a compliment, Commander?"

"Maybe."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows, his gaze dropping. "Senator—"

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

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

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

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

"How many of these do you have?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's a dead man.

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

You, on the other hand, are not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I?"

"Yes," you say, rolling your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glare at him, and he smirks.

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

"I'm not going anywhere.”

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

He lifts his chin. "Watch me."

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

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

He scoffs. "Hardly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're impossible," you grumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would that be so bad?"

Yes. No. Yes.

Kriff.

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

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

"Yes, Commander?"

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

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

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

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

"And what am I doing, exactly?"

"You're..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you planning?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Not tonight," he growls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he doesn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What else?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just doesn't know how.

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