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Chapter Text

Captain Rex blushed as she slowly began unfastening the clasps of his armour. It was a fiddly job, but one which she took a great deal of pleasure in. Or perhaps, the pleasurable part was watching the Captain become more and more flustered the more of his protective shell was removed.

This wasn't their first carnal encounter, and yet the man seemed unable to get over his own awkwardness. She found it amusing, truth be told, and so endearingly wholesome that she came back time and again.

That being said, the clone always stopped her before she managed to strip him fully bare. He seemed to much prefer bringing her to a breathy orgasm using his mouth or fingers alone, not that she was complaining of course. He was methodical and thorough in that regard, and she enjoyed every second of the diligent attention that Rex lavished on her in the bedroom.

The chest plate fell to the floor with a dull thump. She leaned in to kiss him, her tongue tracing the delicious outline of his lips. Rex let out a muffled noise, which might have been a groan. She grinned against his mouth.

The pauldron and shoulder bells followed the cuirass, and Rex's kisses became deeper and more passionate the more of him that became exposed. They broke apart fleetingly while she tugged his upper blacks over his head, leaving him bare chested and vulnerable in the dim bedroom light. She traced her fingers across the broad expanse of muscle, finger nails running along the scars which laced the otherwise perfect flesh. Rex shivered at the contact, watching her movements with his mouth slightly open.

Her hands trailed lower, along the strip of blonde hair that ran down from his naval. They came to a halt on the codpiece of his armour. Glancing up at the Captain, she waited for a cue to continue, some indication that she was not taking things too far. Rex swallowed, his adams apple bobbing in his throat.

He nodded once.

The codpiece came away much easier than everything else, and she tossed it onto the floor with the now growing pile. The not inconsiderable bulge beneath Rex's blacks belied his arousal. She smiled, satisfied at the power she had over him. From a few kisses and featherlight touches, she'd succeeded in stoking his fire, and that thought alone was enough to send a thrill of excitement down her spine.

He didn't stop her. The rest of the armour fell away, until the man was wearing nothing but his black leggings, and the kama draped around his hips. She reached up to unfasten it, but halted before her fingers had wrapped around the buckle. Rex's chest was heaving, his cheeks were flushed, and his face was clammy. His pupils were blown wide with excitement, and his gaze roved hungrily over her own scantily clad form. And yet, he didn't pounce.

"Would you like me to stop?" she asked softly, reminded that he'd always seemed oddly body conscious in the past.

Rex shook his head.

"No," he replied, voice strained and hoarse. "But leave the kama on."

She obliged.

Chapter Text

Fox awoke in a cold sweat, heart racing as his eyes snapped wide. He sat upright with a gasp, flinching as the data pad that had been resting on his bare chest fell to the floor with a clatter.

He blinked away the last vestiges of sleepiness until his eyes came into focus. He was lying on his bunk in his private quarters on Coruscant. The bedside lamp was still lit, and pieces of flimsy were scattered on the bed clothes all around him. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut. Evidently, he'd fallen asleep whilst perusing the day's reports. Again.

Drawing a deep breath, Fox felt his pulse begin to slow. He often woke abruptly and in a panic to the sound of his own harsh breathing. Nightmares were a common occurrence amongst the clone troopers, and he was no exception.

Except that, on this occasion, bad dreams were not the reason for his sudden plunge into consciousness.

Glancing down, the bulge beneath his blacks was almost embarrassingly large, his manhood straining valiantly against the confines of the thin fabric. It twitched needily, pulling the garment even tighter.

Fox grunted and, with an almost reflexive familiarity, reached a hand down the front of his pants. Past experience had taught him that it was always best to take care of his bodily needs whenever he had the opportunity, lest he risk embarrassing himself by getting a boner during the morning briefing.

He gave his cock a squeeze for good measure, before pulling it out. The air was cool against his hot flesh and he shivered involuntarily. Fox settled back against the pillows, shoving aside a punch of reports with his free hand as his bunk creaked under his weight.

His hand glided down his shaft with a practiced eased, and he gave himself a few pumps to rouse himself into full mast. With short, firm strokes, Fox began to edge himself closer to that blissful release. He imagined that his hand was someone else's, elegant fingers stroking his length and eliciting soft hisses from his lips. His thumb pressed into the slit at the tip and he moaned softly at the delicious discomfort.

Fox frantically tapped into the bank of mental images that he usually saved for these occasions. He thought about the dress Senator Amidala had worn at the last gala. The way the thin, satin fabric had clung to her form. The way it had stretched around the outline of her ass. The way the swell of her breasts had strained at the seams, threatening to spill out that tantalising softness.

He imagined what those tits would look like glazed with his own cum.

Fox quickened his pace.

Below him, Senator Amidala pulled away from his cock with a soft pop. She titled her head to gaze up at him with those doey eyes, her lips wide and her chest heaving.

His cock twitched hungrily and he tightened his grip, the fingers of his free hand twisting into the sheets.

"What would you like from me, Commander?"

Fox bit off a groan, screwing his eyes shut to bring the mental image into sharper focus. He swallowed.

"Your cunt wrapped around my cock."

He wasn't certain whether he'd said the words out loud. He didn't care.

She gasped almost playfully, brown eyes going wide at his bluntness.

"And how could I refuse such a request?"

Fox's free hand moved to fondle his balls.

Amidala climbed on top of him, narrow legs straddling his hips. She sunk down onto his manhood with a sound of pure bliss, throwing her head back in ecstacy.

Fox bucked his hips, the bed springs creaking beneath him. His hand ached from where it was clamped around his shaft, but he didn't care.

She was riding him, hard and frantic, breasts jiggling as she enthusiastically impaled herself upon him.

Fox's breath came in harsh pants. The tension in his groin continued to build.

She squealed in a manner most unlike a Senator. He doubted anyone else had ever coaxed those noises from her.

He snapped.

White hot bliss erupted from his aching member, spurt after spurt coating his hand and his stomach. Fox rode out his high, eyes rolled into the back of his skull as he temporarily whited out.

When it finally ended, Fox butted his head against the pillow and let go of his now softening cock. Using a corner of the blanket, he cleaned himself up as best he could, rearranged his clothing, and plucked the data pad from the floor, regaining his composure as quickly as he'd lost it.

Chapter Text

You knew how much he hated it. And yet you couldn't resist any opportunity to rankle the stoic, abrasive sniper.

It was easy, so easy, and you knew exactly which buttons to press.

Crosshair stood in the doorway to the supply closet, his fists balled by his side. You could sense the waves of frustration rolling off of him, but you didn't need to turn away from the supply shelf to know that outwardly he gave nothing away.

"I said, put the data pad down."

His voice was almost warning, but not quite. Not yet.

"No."

He both loved and hated when you defied him. Which was why you did it. That, and the fact that the rewards for your insubordination were so worth it.

You went back to running through the inventory on your pad, suppressing a smirk.

"Put it down. Now."

You ignored him, instead pretending to be engrossed in the task at hand, despite the fact that your heart was racing double time.

"Girl."

There is was. The dangerous edge to his voice. The one you loved so much.

You finally turned to face him, laying the pad down on a shelf. His expression was neutral, and it was only the tightness around his eyes that gave away his emotions. You smiled innocently.

"Did you want something?"

He did, and you knew exactly what it was.

Crosshair's lips quirked into a sneer, and he plucked out the toothpick he'd been chewing and threw it to one side.

"You. On your knees. Now."

You feigned surprise, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

"I'm not sure I understand."

You did. How could you not. This had become an almost weekly occurrence.

Crosshair's smirk widened. This was exactly what he wanted, and you damned well knew it.

"You're going to take my cock in your mouth," he replied crassly, eyes dancing with barely veiled excitement. "And you're going to love every inch of it."

You kept your expression neutral, knowing full well that the chase was part of the fun for both of you.

"Is that so?" you asked in a challenging tone.

Crosshair pushed himself away from the door frame against which he had been leaning and sealed the door shut.

"It is."

He slunk towards you, like a predator sizing up its prey. You met his eyes levelly, refusing to back down. Crosshair came to a halt just in front of you, towering above you in an intimidating manner. Up close, you could smell his aftershave mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. He'd obviously just come from the training range.

"On your knees."

It wasn't a request. It was an order. And one which you did not follow.

"No."

His smirk widened, and his amber eyes narrowed. He closed the gap between you, his body brushing against yours.

"Now."

You returned the look of mirth with one of your own.

"Make me."

That was what he had been waiting for. No sooner had the words left your lips, than Crosshad grabbed you by the back of the head. His lips crashed into yours and he kissed you ferociously, teeth nipping and tongue lapping. You reciprocated the passion, moving with him as you fervently battled for dominance.

Crosshair pulled back, his grip on you tightened, and he shoved you roughly to your knees.

"Do as you're told," he growled, though there was no real menace in his voice. This whole thing was a game, and you were always willing to play along.

"Why should I?"

Crosshair's nimble fingers began working on the catches of his armour as you craned your head to look up at him.

"Because I gave you an order. And you will follow it."

The codpiece hit the floor with a dull thud, and you allowed your gaze to dart lower to admire the bulge down the front of his blacks. You wanted him, there was no denying that, and he wanted you, but you would make him work for it.

"Will I?"

Crosshair grunted in response, his eyes pinned to yours as he liberated his manhood from its fabric prison. It was as hard as ever, the tip flushed a deep red that contrasted with the silver barbel erupting from the tip. The piercing had always fascinated you, not least of all because you found it somewhat intimidating, much like the man himself.

Much as you wanted it in your mouth, you didn't immediately oblige.

"Open wide," Crosshair said after a few seconds, fisting his cock and lazily stroking it.

Still, you did not comply.

"Or what?" you asked defiantly, eyes narrowing in a challenge.

Crosshair grinned sickeningly, his member twitching from the thrill of it all. You expected more demands from him, but instead, the man curled his fingers around the back of your neck and plunged your face forwards. You gasped from the shock, your nose brushing against the silver thatch of hair crowning his erection.

"Now, open wide."

You finally gave in.

Crosshair's cock tasted of flesh and salt, with the faintest tang of washing powder. You swallowed as much of him as you could, until the piercing brushed against the back of your throat. You almost gagged, but the man did not stay lodged there for long. He drew back, slamming into your open mouth, fucking your face hard. Tears streamed from your eyes, and you moved to grasp his hips tightly, not to slow his pace, but to ground yourself. Your own excitement was growing, but you knew how this little game worked. You'd get your just reward, but only after Crosshair had had his.

Again and again he bucked into you, fingers twining into your hair as he silently egged you on. His body quivered and a few drops of sweat rolled from his forehead to splash against your cheeks.

It didn't take long to take the man over the edge, and he climaxed with a muffled grunt, hands tightening vice like around you as he released his load at the back of your throat. You swallowed every drop, hungrily licking him clean as he pulled out from you.

A hand patted you on the head and you looked up to see Crosshair grinning lopsidedly down at you.

"See? Following orders isn't so hard."

Chapter Text

Fives didn't even know her name.

Usually that sort of thing was important to him, but tonight he was a little too tipsy to care. It felt like an age since he had last spent any time in 79s, and after the recent string of gruelling missions, he was eager to let loose and live wildly.

And making out with the bar girl ticked all those boxes.

She was pretty, with dark hair and eyes and a tattoo of a star on her forehead. She smelt like freshly cut flowers, and tasted like peppermint, and the way she pawed at Fives' chest had him feeling giddy with excitement. He could almost forget that he was a soldier, losing himself in the push and pull of kissing her against the alley wall.

But he wanted more. He craved more.

His hand slid from her waist, trailing down her stomach and coming to rest on the waistband of her trousers. She hummed approvingly into his mouth, pressing herself closer. Her breasts squashed against the chest plate of his armour, and Fives felt a twinge in his groin as his dick began straining uncomfortably against his codpiece.

His hand slid beneath her clothing, brushing against her warm flesh and she shivered at the intrusion, but did not push him away. His gloved fingers glided against her wetness, gently probing and teasing. She gasped into his mouth, shuffling her feet further apart and Fives did not hesitate to sieze the opportunity. His fingers delved into her, pumping slowly at first but building to a steady pace, the kind that practically had the girl whimpering.

His free hand moved to cup her face, gripping her jaw and pulling her deeper into his mouth. She complied hungrily, moulding to the shape of him and melting against him. His fingers idly twined in her hair, playing with the strands and tugging gently, teasingly. She responded with a hum of approval, and he continued, his hand moving to wrap around her throat.

The girl ground against the fingers which were fucking her and Fives' grip on her throat tightened.

"More."

A single word, breathy and barely audible.

Fives complied.

Fingers tightening, the girl finally broke their kiss with a gasp. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open. Fives could feel her pulse racing beneath his finger tips, in time with his own. He slackened his grasp for a moment, before tightening it again. He felt the girls cunt clench around his other hand, and he fucked her faster.

She gasped and whined and made all variety of noises that had a half drunk Fives almost cumming in his blacks. Part of him wouldn't have minded either, because at least it would have offered some relief to the unbearable pinching in his groin.

His palm flexed and he held harder, edging her closer to an orgasm which finally crested when he pressed his thumb into her throat. She gushed over his hands, soaking his gloves but he didn't care. His hand darted from beneath her pants to slither down the front of his armour, and it only took a few strokes to bring Fives to a short, sharp orgasm.

With a grunt of relief, he slumped forward and rested his head against the girl's shoulder. He had no idea who she was, but the memory of this night would keep him going for weeks to come.

Chapter Text

Bly watched the General as she leaned over the holo map.

Her head tails had fallen over her shoulders and swayed slightly as she shifted her feet. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and her lips pursed. He did his best to keep his gaze respectful, but it was impossible not to peek a glimpse of the curve of her breasts as she leaned a little closer. Bly suppressed a smirk and went back to studying the map. He'd seen the General naked many times, and he couldn't help but feel smug that she'd allowed him that privilege. Out of the million clones, she'd chosen him.

Aayla sighed, straightening and knuckling the small of her back.

"Perhaps we should pick this up tomorrow," she suggested in her rylothian accent.

Bly glanced through the flaps of the tent and saw that night had fallen, the sky dark and full of the twinkle of far-off suns. He nodded.

"Perhaps we should."

Aayla switched off the map, pushing herself away from the table.

"Do you still have duties to attend to?"

Although disguised innocently enough, Bly knew her true meaning by the question.

"No."

His heart began racing. He knew where this was going. The slightest quirk of her lips. She stood straight, planting her hands on her hips. Her eyes shifted towards the tent flap, and Bly allowed himself a small smile. Obediently, he pulled closed the flap.

No sooner had the claps sealed shut than a thin arm snaked around his waist.

"Remove your armour, Commander."

"Yes, General."

He turned to face her, a fire burning in his belly as he followed her order. She watched appreciatively while the pieces fell to the floor, and once he was stripped to his blacks, she gestured towards the chair by the desk. He sat. He waited. He watched.

Slowly, painfully slowly, she began unfastening her tunic. The garment fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Bly watched appreciatively as she wiggled her hips and the skirt fell away too. Her breasts jiggled slightly at the motion, and he licked his lips, spreading his legs further apart to alleviate the growing pressure in his groin. Her nipples were flushed a deep mauve, complimenting her blue skin. Bly let his eyes rove over her. Twi'lek women were, in his opinion, the most beautiful creatures in the entire galaxy, but Aayla was by the far the most perfect.

She stepped forward, hips swaying temptingly. He reached for her, his gloved hands trailing across her blue skin. Even beneath the fabric he could feel her softness, so damned inviting it was almost painful. Aayla shuffled closer until she was straddling his legs, where she lowered herself slowly.

Bly bit off a hiss as her weight ground against his erection. Hastily, he reached between them to drag out his dick, desperate to have her.

She complied.

The sound she made when she sunk down onto him was undeniably arousing. Bly twitched as her warm wetness enveloped his aching length. She was dripping for him, and he was throbbing for her.

It was frantic, desperate, and needy, as it usually was, and when it was over, Bly stood, pulling Aayla into his arms. He took her to her cot and laid her gently on top of the sheets. Laying there, glistening with sweat and glowing with the kind of euphoria that only he could bring, Bly concluded that she really was the most exquisite woman to ever draw breath.

Chapter Text

Colt watched the mandalorian as she tapped her glass against the bar and demanded another.

The seedy, outer rim cantina was rammed to the gunnels with clone troopers, most already several sheets to the wind, despite the earliness of the hour. Colt supposed it was inevitable, seeing as they been trapped on this campaign for weeks with little break in the monotonous fighting. Now that they'd liberated the town, the men deserved a reward.

He sipped his drink and cast his eye over the crowd. His gaze returned to the mandalorian. She sat alone, knocking back her beverage as though it were water. Her dark hair was cut short, almost masculine, but her face was slender and beautifully graceful. Her armour was painted grey and red, like his own. If that wasn't the universe speaking to him, then Colt didn't know what was.

He set down his drink, picked up his helmet, and approached the bar.

"Can I get you another?"

She scowled over her shoulder at him, eyes sharp in the dim light of the cantina. He refused to show that her scrutiny was making him uncomfortable.

"No."

Colt felt a trickle of disappointment, but he nodded regardless. Stepping away, he felt his face flush a little and hoped that none of his men had been close enough to bear witness to his rejection.

Deciding that perhaps it was best to return to his barracks, Colt shoved his bucket on his head and strode to the door. Outside, the night was balmy and filled with the chirping of insects, soft light spilling from the nearby houses. Colt drew a deep breath, though his helmet filtered out any actual smell, and headed off into the town.

He didn't make it very far.

A few paces from the cantina, a hand grabbed his arm from behind. With honed reflexes, he spun, drawing his pistols as he did so and raising them to confront whoever had grabbed him.

It was the mandalorian, her face hidden behind her helmet. She was armed, and yet her blaster was still holstered.

"Easy there, soldier," she said, her voice full of humour.

Colt hesitantly lowered his weapon, though it remained in his hand.

"What do you want?" he asked. Though they'd taken the city, a few Separatist agents may still remain.

She cocked her head to one side.

"I said I didn't want a drink. Not that I didn't want your company."

Something fluttered in Colt's chest.

Oh?" he asked, his mind frantically trying to come up with an answer.

"Perhaps we aught to get off the street?"

"And go where?"

She chuckled, a soft melodious noise.

"My apartment?"

This wasn't the first time someone had approached Colt with such a suggestion, but it still sent a thrill down his spine and a pulse to his nether regions regardless. He did not hesitate.

"Lead on."

They walked in companionable silence, which lasted to the door of her accommodation.

"Would you tell me your name, trooper, or would you prefer anonymity?"

Colt hesitated.

"Anonymity is fine with me."

She inclined her head, unlocking the door and gesturing for him to enter. He complied cautiously and with his hand resting on the handle of his pistol, but his concern was unwarranted. The small, single room space was empty of anything aside from an unreasonable amount of clutter.

The mandalorian stepped in after Colt and shut the door.

"You can leave your armour over there," she said, pointing towards a dresser beside the unmade bed.

Colt nodded, removing his helmet and setting it where instructed. He watched the woman carefully, but she did nothing save for passively observe.

Swiftly, efficiently, he stripped his armour until he was clad in nothing but his blacks. It was a little awkward, he thought, but this was only intended to be a casual encounter. After tonight, he would never see the woman again.

Colt took a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Once he was seated, the mandalorian stepped forward, pausing once she was standing before him. She reached up to remove her helmet, but halted when Colt grabbed her arm.

"Leave the armour on."

His heart raced a little faster when she nodded compliantly. His proposition at the bar hasn't been merely random. Colt had chosen her, singled her out of the crowd, for nothing more than the armour she wore. There was something so arousing about a woman in armour, and he had no intention of letting her take it off.

She swung a leg over, lowering herself to straddle his hips. Colt resisted the urge to grind frantically against her as his cock hardened.

It was quick, efficient and methodical.

Her cod piece was flung to one side, and Colt ripped a couple of fingers through her under suit.

She tugged down his leggings, springing free his manhood.

Colt manoeuvred her until her entrance was pressed against his throbbing length.

She didn't make a sound as she speared herself on him.

Colt let out a breathy sigh as he found a fingerhold on her cuirass.

He fucked her. She fucked him. Part of Colt wished he'd made her take the helmet off, if only to admire the look of bliss that he felt sure was plastered on her face.

It was brief and impersonal, a fleeting moment of pleasure in an otherwise unpleasant galaxy.

Chapter Text

Sev knew he shouldn't get distracted. But she was making it damned near impossible.

From their perch high on the cliff top, he adjusted his stance by a fraction and swept the slope of his rifle across the valley below. The road was dark and empty, not even so much as a creature stirring in the bushes

He waited. He watched. As he was trained to do.

Nothing. Only the night and the sound of the woman breathing beside him.

His helmet comm crackled to life.

"The convey is delayed. Await further orders."

"Shit," the woman grunted in frustration, setting down her binos.

Sev sighed, pushing himself away from his scope, but only by a few inches. He would not allow himself to unfurl from his spot until the mission was completed.

"What do we do now?"

"Await further orders," Sev replied flatly.

The woman scoffed.

"But it could be hours before the convey gets moving!"

"And?"

He didn't quite understand her point, and her petulant attitude was becoming tiresome. He cast a glance towards her out of the corner of his visor, her eyes shined in the darkness, but her expression obscured. He really hated when the higher ups decided that he should be in charge of babysitting the specialist. Especially when that specialist was a distraction.

The woman rolled onto her back to stare at the stars above.

"Perhaps we can find some way of entertaining ourselves?"

Sev lifted his rifle and re-positioned himself. Squinting through the scope was preferable to making small talk with this engineer that he barely knew.

So absorbed was he, that Sev almost fell off of the ledge in surprise when a hand started tugging at his belt.

"What the kriff are you doing?!" he yelped, dropping his weapon and twisting to face her.

She was close, close enough that he could see her white teeth flashing in the gloom.

"What do you think?"

Sev didn't know what to think. He wasn't even sure that he was capable of thinking at that moment. Taking his silence for some kind of approval, she reached out again and wrapped her thin fingers around his belt. Sev watched her as she rolled him slightly further over to allow her easier access.

She unbuckled his belt. He let her.

Sev felt a twitch in his groin. Despite his surprise and confusion, his cock seemed more than ready for whatever was about to happen.

He turned his attention back to the scope of his rifle. Despite the aching want that was coursing through him, he would be damned if he was prepared to let the seppies catch him with his pants down. Literally.

Her mouth was warm and wet as her lips wrapped around his member. Sev bit his own lip to keep any noises inside. He focused on a tree down in the valley below. It's limbs were bent and twisted by the elements, and although not particularly interesting, it was enough of a distraction to keep him from blowing his load too fast.

She hummed against him, pressing her tongue into the slit at the head of his cock. He remained frozen, heart pounding and every nerve in his body on fire. She swallowed even more of him and it took all of his self restraint not to buck his hips against her.

She sucked and swallowed and licked and mouthed until sweat began prickling through his blacks and his rifle trembled from the adrenaline. He held on as long as he could, and dawn had begun to light the horizon by the time that he finally conceded to that desperate urge. She swallowed every drop as he erupted into her eager mouth.

Once she'd wrung him dry, she rearranged his armour and rolled back over to her spot as though nothing had happened, leaving Sev breathless, flustered, and more satisfied than he'd been in an age.

Chapter Text

The sonic thrummed its rhythmic pulse, setting Echo's circuits tingling.

Before the citadel, he'd always preferred a wet shower, but since the explosion, the water always seemed to stiffen up his joints and leave him aching for days after. Reluctantly, he'd conceded that a sonic was more suited to his new mechanical body.

And, much as he hated to admit it, he rather enjoyed the way the pulsing made him feel...

It had to be the result of the components in his brain because he'd never had this kind of reaction to the sonic before. Echo had always just used it to get clean, that was the whole purpose of the exercise after all.

Leaning his forehead against the cool, metallic wall, Echo drew a deep breath and tilted his chin to stare down at himself. His manhood was at full attention, flushed and twitching impatiently for attention.

Echo complied.

He knew this routine well. He knew exactly how much pressure felt best, what pace got him off fastest, which rhythm worked for him. He didn't even need to fantasise anymore, like he had before. It was almost as if his body was preprogrammed and responding to all the cues he gave it.

His hips stuttered as he quickened his pace. Faster, harder, tighter. He paused long enough to spit into his palm, the lubrication making it easier to push himself to the brink of ecstacy.

And when he tipped over that delicious precipice, when raw, unadulterated pleasure burnt white hot through his veins, Echo could almost forget just how broken a man he really was.

Chapter Text

You glared at the Commander across the table, your fists clenched atop the plasteel surface and a grim expression plastered on your face.

"Again, Commander, I think this plan is flawed."

Wolffe bristled at the challenge to his authority. His mismatched eyes narrowed.

"And again, I have far more experience than you. We are attacking the fortress by the canyon."

"So your experience blinds you to the errors in your judgement?"

You knew it wasn't wise to confront the man. From past experience, such altercations had not been pleasant. Wolffe had a way of pulling you apart with only a few words, leaving you feeling as though you had been emotionally wrung out. But you were not prepared to die following some stupid plan that the clone had only half cooked up.

Wolffe stepped around the table, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. You did not back down, instead meeting his glare with one just as potent.

"I outrank you, Lieutenant," he said, spitting out the last word. "So don't you dare question my orders again."

His voice was dangerous, threatening, and you decided that perhaps it really wasn't wise to continue down this path. Hastily, you turned back to the map spread across the table, so as not to have to bear witness to Wolffe's smirk. He continued past you, bumping you with a shoulder.

"Good girl."

You both hated and loved when he called you that. Though you would never admit that fact out loud.

....................

He was infuriating. He was damned infuriating.

And he knew it.

You came to recognise that familiar twinkle in his eye when you challenged him.

He liked it.

Whatever need he had to win every battle, you were providing satisfaction to that desire. Even if it left you frustrated and fuming on more than one occasion. Arguing provided no relief, nor did shouting, swearing, or hitting things.

You thought the man would continue to grate on you until you finally snapped.

But everything changed one evening while the pair of you were staying late in the briefing room, discussing battle strategy for an upcoming mission.

Wolffe was contradicting you, as usual, pushing all your buttons in the hope of getting a reaction. And he did, though not the one he was expecting.

You weren't sure why you kissed him. Perhaps it was simply the only way you could think to get him to shut his mouth.

He froze when your lips touched, but quickly thawed and opened his mouth invitingly. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours.

Wolffe gripped your upper arms in a bruising grasp, so hard that you whimpered beneath him. He pulled back, eyes wild and frantic in the dim light of the briefing room.

"Get on the table," he said, voice low and gravelly.

You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the intensity in his eyes made you hesitate.

"Get on the table, Lieutenant."

You remained immobile, breath hitching in your chest. It wasn't that you didn't want him. On the contrary, the pulsing between your legs indicated that you did indeed desire the man. But you didn't want to concede so easily.

You said nothing. You stood your ground.

Wolffe's lips quirked at the edges, and his eyes took on a hungry look.

"Get on the table. That's an order."

You finally obliged, shuffling backwards until your backside connected with the surface. You hopped up and waited.

Wolffe moved closer until he was resting both hands on the table on either side of you, penning you in.

"Take off your uniform."

You glanced at the door behind him, which was shut but not locked. Wolffe ignored your concern and instead leaned towards you, his breath warm as it ghosted your face.

"Take off your uniform, Lieutenant."

Slowly, you unbuttoned your tunic, slipping out of it and tossing it to one side. You kicked off your boots, unfastened your trousers, and shimmied out of them, too, until you were wearing nothing but your underwear.

Wolffe's eyes roved over your bare flesh, hungrily devouring the sight.

"And the rest," he said authoritatively. "Take it all off."

Again, you glanced at the door.

"Someone might walk in."

Wolffe did not reply to your concern. In fact, he didn't seem to care at all.

"Take it off, Lieutenant."

It was an order, not a request. Usually, you felt an urge to disobey any and all of the man's orders, but this time, you were eager to comply.

Once you were bare, you shivered in the chill air, watching the clone expectantly. Wolffe was not at all shy in showing his desire, stripping off his codpiece and palming himself idly as he scrutinised your naked form.

"Lie back," he instructed.

You did as ordered.

Wolffe watched you for a moment, gauging your reaction. It was only when you nodded, giving your consent, that he approached.

He grasped your legs, parting them even further as he stepped between them. You felt his fingers teasing you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. He dipped inside of you, and you bucked your hips at the friction, desperate for more.

"Keep still."

You balled your hands into fists and mewled desperately as he continued his ministrations. Your body was trembling with desire and desperation by the time he finally withdrew. You let out a sound of disappointment, but the frustration was short-lived. Without warning, he thrust his cock inside you and you gasped.

Grasping your hips, Wolffe set a brutal pace, spearing you repeatedly with his manhood until the table creaked beneath you. The stimulation was enough to have you teetering on the brink within moments.

Wolffe, sensing you tightening around him, did not relinquish his pace.

"Scream for me," he said, sounding barely out of breath.

You screamed as you came. Again. And again. And again.

Finally, when you were shuddering from over stimulation, Wolffe buried himself deep within you and filled you to the brim. He held you still, pinning you down as he rocked himself through his own orgasm, only releasing you when he was finally spent.

You wiped sweat from your brow and tried to sit up, but your weary body would not allow for anything so vigorous. Wolffe watched you as he re affixed his armour, running a hand through his hair and straightening his appearance.

"Very good, Lieutenant," he said, giving your leg a pat of approval.

With that he was gone, leaving you breathless and reeling on the briefing table.

Chapter Text

Boss watched the woman dancing on the table.

He was transfixed, unable to look away as he slowly nursed his drink. The club was as busy as it usually was, though he appeared to be the only clone. Not that anyone would notice him, of course, not out of armour and dressed in civvies, with the hood of his jacket pulled up. It wasn't that he was ashamed to be here, but he certainly didn't want any of his men knowing his preferred hunting ground.

The pantoran woman spun around, her silvery hair trailing behind her. Boss felt his trousers tent a little at the way her breasts swayed, her mauve nipples contrasting so perfectly with her blue skin.

She finished her dance to the appreciative whistles of the other patrons. Boss didn't feel jealous, of course not. She wasn't his. He'd shared many steamy moments with her, but she still wasn't his. Protective, maybe, but not possessive. Everything was fleeting, and he'd learned long ago to simply enjoy the things that he had, no matter how brief.

Her eyes met his across the room, and she smiled, arching a suggestive eyebrow. The next girl arrived on the stage, and the pantoran walked off, still holding Boss' gaze. He picked up his drink. He sipped. He waited.

She joined him within a few minutes, her breasts now hidden (barely) beneath a thin, satin dress. It was almost pearlescent, shimmering as she walked across the club, floating behind her and giving her an ethereal quality. To Boss, she had always been a goddess at any rate.

Without waiting for an invitation, she swung her legs over to sit on his lap, taking his drink from him and knocking it back smoothly.

"Good evening, Boss," she said in her heavy accent, smiling at him.

"Lyra," he replied, inclining his head.

She peered at him beneath his hood, her teeth white, her beautiful skim soft looking, and her golden tattoos crinkling on her cheeks as she smiled.

"I did not expect to see you back so soon."

Boss huffed a laugh, discreetly casting his gaze around the room. Most of the patrons had their eyes glued to the new girl on the stage, while the remainder were engrossed in attempting to score one of the other many gorgeous women dotted about the lounge. He turned his attention back to Lyra.

"I did not expect to be back so soon."

She chuckled, a beautiful sound that rang in Boss' ears.

"Did I leave you wanting more, Commando?"

Boss' trousers tightened even further at the memory. By the way Lyra squirmed on his lap, she was aware of his arousal. Her eyes danced with unspoken promise.

"I see that I did."

She smiled, shifting until she was straddling his hips. Boss leaned back in his chair, watching with a smirk as she settled into position.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, suddenly remembering his manners.

Lyra shook her head, draping her arms around his neck and leaning forward in such a way that her breasts threatened to spill out of her sheer dress.

"Not now that I'm comfortable. I don't want you going anywhere."

She pretended to fidget into a more comfortable position, but Boss knew she was really using the opportunity to rile him up even more. He let her.

Slowly, she leaned in until her breath fluttered against his cheek.

"What is it that you desire this evening?" she asked suggestively.

Boss licked his lips. His cock hardened further.

"Lady's choice."

She laughed again, throwing her head back and warranting the brief attention of those nearest their table.

"I have a few ideas," she mused, her eyes taking on a mischievous quality. "That is, if you trust me?"

Boss nodded. It felt odd to admit that he trusted someone that wasn't one of his brothers.

"I do."

Her grin widened.

"Good."

She placed her hands on his chest, gently kneading the taught muscle beneath the grey tunic. Boss closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. Her hands slowly slid lower, until they were resting on his hips. He resisted the urge to grind against her. Lyra leaned closer, her lips brushing against his in a teasing half kiss. Boss found himself trailing after her as she pulled back. It was pathetic how needy he was for the woman.

With a satisfied sound, the pantoran lifted herself off of Boss' lap. He huffed in disappointment, though she only raised herself a few inches, just enough to fumble open his flies and tug off his belt.

A hot flush blossomed in his chest and his pulse picked up as she dragged out his manhood.

"Are we doing this here?" he asked, glancing about warily at the other patrons.

Lyra giggled, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Why not?"

Boss supposed that the room was quite dark. And all other eyes were currently fixed on the woman atop the stage, who was viciously grinding against the pole like her life depended on it.

Lyra took his silence for confirmation, and gave his cock a few lazy strokes, before sinking down on it. Boss sighed in satisfaction as she settled on him to the hilt, her cunt wet and warm as it clenched around him. He wasn't sure why the fact that she wasn't wearing underwear was so damned erotic.

Lyra began moving, slowly at first, hitching her hips, her golden eyes boring into his. Boss caressed her waist, relishing how soft and pliable she was.

Boss couldn't say how long it lasted. It could have been five minutes or an hour. He lost himself in the rhythm set by the woman above him, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her wet pussy around his aching cock. He couldn't tell if anybody saw what they were doing in that quiet corner of the club. And he didn't much care at any rate.

Chapter Text

Kix made a pretense of warming the stethoscope. Beneath him, the young woman squirmed.

"Lie still."

His authoritative tone was somewhat undermined by the fact that he was wearing absolutely nothing but a lab coat and the stethoscope. Regardless, she complied, laying back on the gurney, her chest heaving in anticipation. Kix smiled as he stepped forward, resting the stethoscope against her chest.

"Hmmm," he murmured absently.

Her heart was racing in her chest as he moved the scope about, from one side of her ribcage to the other. He made a point of brushing it against one of her nipples and she squealed, arching her back off of the mattress.

"Lie still," Kix instructed again, his voice stern and his manhood stiffening in interest at her exaggerated reaction.

He unplugged the stethoscope from his ears and set it to one side.

"Very good."

She keened at the praise, a shudder rippling her body. Kix grinned to himself as he reached for the pair of rubber gloves.

"You may feel a slight tingling sensation."

He tugged on the gloves with a snap, coating his hands with medical lube.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded eagerly. Kix swallowed down the animalistic groan that rose in his throat.

"Good."

He started slow, carefully inserting one finger into her, followed by another. She gasped at the intrusion, even though the fact that the digits slipped in so easily told him that she was more than ready for this.

"There. Is that uncomfortable?"

She shook her head vigorously, shifting her legs so that they were further apart. Kix treated himself to an appreciative look at her, spread out so welcomingly before him.

Slowly, he crooked his fingers.

"And how about that?"

She groaned, the sound sending a coursing wave of arousal through Kix's entire body. He dipped his fingers in deeper.

"And that?"

She threw her head back, mouth open and back arched needily.

"Stay still."

She didn't comply. She couldn't, once he started pumping into her with a steady rhythm.

"Am I going to have to restrain you?"

His cock jumped at the thought.

"Yes, Doctor!"

How could he refuse? Kix obliged, swiftly withdrawing to strap her hands and feet to the bed with leather straps. She gave a feeble, feigned attempt at freeing herself, before slumping back down. She could of course get out if she wanted to. Kix always gave his partners an out.

He was nothing if not considerate.

Chapter Text

You shivered as you watched Mayday shuffle the deck of cards.

It was cold, bitterly cold, despite the thermal layers that you wore beneath your uniform. You shuffled closer to the heat lamp, and took a sip from the mug of caf that you cradled in your hands.

Opposite you, Mayday did not seem at all phased by the chill, despite the fact that he was now down to his blacks and nothing else. Perhaps it was the long beard and thick mane of hair that kept him warm, or perhaps clones were simply made of sterner stuff.

"Another hand?"

You smiled at him and set down your mug.

"You don't have much more to lose," you replied with a smirk.

Mayday huffed a laugh. You were glad that you'd spent so much of your youth playing sabaac, because you really did not like the thought of having to remove any layers if you lost. Not for any other reason besides a desire to refrain from frostbite.

"I'll win this next one," the Commander stated with a quiet confidence, his amber eyes narrowing. "You'll see."

He did not, in fact, win the next round, leaving him wearing only his leggings and nothing else. You couldn't help but appreciate the thatch of hair on his broad expanse of chest. All clones looked the same, of course, but somehow Mayday always appeared more masculine to you. Perhaps it was his age, or perhaps his life had hardened him, but there was no denying that, whatever it was, it was a sexy quality.

Mayday stretched, making a show of flexing his muscles, as though you hadn't already been admiring them since he'd taken off his shirt. He watched you watching him, and his expression suddenly shifted to one of mischief.

"I have a proposition," he stated boldly, resting his hands on the top of his head.

You cocked your head to one side in intrigue.

"Go on?"

Mayday's smirk widened.

"One more hand. But we change the rules. If you win, I pull all your maintenance shifts for the next week."

"And if you win?" you asked curiously.

Mayday's eyes shouldered.

"I get to spend a night with you."

You felt a thrill run down your spine. There was no denying you were attracted to each other, but you would not have imagined the man to be so bold.

Something about the look in his eye made it impossible to say no.

"Deal."

....................

You lost on purpose.

You weren't sure if Mayday noticed, but you doubted anything got past him.

And so you found yourself being led by the hand to his quarters at the bottom level of the compound. It was warmer down here, or perhaps your beating heart and flushed skin was the cause of the warmth.

Mayday had a room all to himself, small like all the rest and sparsely furnished with a neatly made bunk, a desk and chair, and a locker on one wall. He shut the door behind you before turning to face you.

"Last chance," he said, setting his helmet on the desk. "You don't have to hold up your end if you don't want to."

You nodded and swallowed loudly.

"I want to."

He didn't hesitate. His lips were warm and soft against yours, and his beard tickled your face as he kissed you passionately. You felt hot and cold all over, your fingers gripping the chest plate of his armour as his ran down your back. He stripped you bare with the same methodical efficiency that he would a weapon that needed cleaning.

You shivered in the cool air, stepping backwards until your legs hit the bunk. You lowered yourself and waited and watched as the man removed his armour.

His erection was intimidating as he stepped towards you, flushed angrily, though you couldn't deny the thrill of arousal the sight sent through you. Mayday lowered himself to his knees before you, his lips ghosting your thigh. You moaned in anticipation, but the man did nothing more than tease.

After a few minutes, Mayday pulled back to peer up at you, his eyes hungry.

"Do you trust me?"

It was an odd question, but left you with butterflies in your stomach as you wondered why he would ask it.

"Yes."

Mayday blessed you with a lopsided smile.

"Good."

He rose to his feet, plucking up his helmet and turning it over in his broad hands. You watched, wondering what he had in mind.

Slowly, he began to unwind the bandages wrapped around the piece of armour, gathering the fabric in a loose loop. Once he'd unwound a sufficient amount, he returned to your side.

"Close your eyes."

You did as instructed, listening to the sound of your own heart pounding excitedly in the darkness. You felt a length of bandage being wound around your face, covering your eyes. Without sight, your other senses went into overdrive. You could smell the soft, soapy smell of the clone in front of you, feel every touch on your skin. Fire erupted over you as he pushed you gently backwards, pulling your arms above your head, where he fixed them to the bed frame with more bandages.

Once you were sufficiently fastened down, tightly but not so tightly that it was uncomfortable, you felt the bed dip as Mayday crawled on top of you. His breath was hot against your face, and you felt his length press into you needily.

You gasped as he brought you to the edge of an orgasm with his mouth and manhood in equal measure. It was blissful, and your body trembled as you waited eagerly for each next move. Mayday murmured words of encouragement into your ear as he dilligently fulfilled your needs, and it was only once you were well and truly spent that he allowed himself to satiatite his own appetite.

Afterwards, as you both lay in his bunk, the restraints and blindfolds removed and your head pillowed on his chest, as Mayday's fingers twining in your hair, you decided that perhaps you ought to lose at sabaac more often.

Chapter Text

Howzer was honoured when Cham and Eleni invited him into his circle. And even more honoured when they invited him into their bedroom.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and one which he very much enjoyed. It was one of the few opportunities when Howzer could forget about the war and all the horrors of the galaxy. Where he felt like a normal man for once.

Those moments were blissful, hours spent squashed between the couple while they pleasured him and nipped at his flesh. And by the end, Howzer felt as though he'd been rung out like a damned sponge, but in the nicest possible way.

One particular evening, after an exceptionally gruelling few days, Howzer found himself perched on the edge of the couple's bed, Eleni crouched between his thighs, and Cham pressed against his back.

"You are enjoying yourself, Captain?" Cham purred, his teeth grazing Howzer's neck.

Howzer sucked in a breath and let it out in a sigh.

"What gave it away?"

It was an insubordinate response, but they were equals in this room.

Cham chuckled, the sound sending a pulse through Howzer's cock, which twitched in Eleni's grasp. The woman pulled back with a soft pop, titling her chin to peer up at him.

"I think he is, dear heart," she purred in that beautiful Rylothian lilt, her green eyes large in the dimly lit room.

Cham laughed again, his lips brushing Howzer's throat.

"Do you enjoy my wife, Captain?" Cham murmured, his tongue darting out to lap a stripe down Howzer's hot flesh.

Howzer titled his head to watch the smile on Eleni's face grow wider. Her grasp on his manhood tightened, and she began pumping him slowly.

"Yes," he managed to rasp out, his voice cracking at the edges.

Eleni and Cham shared a look, and Howzer braced himself for what was about to happen.

"Well then, dear heart," Cham said, the desire heavy in his tone. "We'd better not disappoint him."

Chapter Text

She stared at herself in the refresher mirror, fixing her hair one last time and tugging her dress down a little lower so that it showed off her ample bust.

A knock at the door halted her preening, and she gave her appearance one last cursory glance, before switching off the light and leaving the room. She halted in the entryway, butterflies fluttering inside her as she drew a deep breath and opened the door.

He was as beautiful as the first time she'd seen him, and every other time since. Brown eyes dancing with untold playfulness, his dark hair slicked back and a grin always at the edge of his lips. Those lips were so soft, as she well knew, and it took a lot for her not to glance down at them.

"Ma'am," the clone said, tipping the rim of his wide brimmed hat at her, his teeth flashing mischievously as he studied her scantily clad form.

"Can I help you?" she asked innocently, her eyes wide and her mouth drawn into a pout.

Gregor's grin widened.

"I'm sure you can, ma'am."

She fought the urge to break character.

"Oh? What might a gentleman such as yourself be doing knocking on a young lady's door at this time of night.?"

Gregor tipped his hat again, leaning on the door frame in a casual pose.

"Forgive the intrusion," he said with feigned sincerity. "You see, miss, I'm the sheriff in these parts. And we've had word of a dangerous outlaw in the area."

She gasped, clapping her hand to her red painted lips in mock surprise.

"Oh my!"

"Young ladies like yourself aren't safe."

"Goldness, Sheriff!"

"Would you mind if I inspected the premises?" Gregor asked, taking off his hat and smoothing his hair. "Just to make sure things are safe?"

Her heart fluttered and she stepped aside.

"Of course."

"Thank you, ma'am."

He entered her home with a nod, twisting his hat in his hands as he strolled from room to room. She headed towards the bedroom, where she perched on the edge of the mattress, adjusting her bust and pulling her skirt up another few inches to that her crossed ankles were visible.

After a few minutes, Gregor strolled casually into the room, his eyes dancing in anticipation.

"All clear," he said, hooking the thumb of his spare hand behind his belt.

She sighed theatrically.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Don't mention it, miss." Gregor absently fiddled with the star pinned to his waistcoat. "But perhaps I'd better stay for a little while. Just in case."

She nodded.

"Of course."

He set his hat on her dresser and sat himself in the chair at the corner of her room. She rose to her feet.

"I was just about to get ready for bed," she said moving to the middle of the room. "It's awfully late."

Gregor's lips twitched and he shuffled his legs further apart, no doubt the alleviate the pinching in his groin.

"Don't mind me."

She made a pretense of turning away to her dresser, facing the mirror as she began to unfasten her hair. Slowly. Deliberately. Once the curls were hanging loosely about her shoulders, she removed her jewellery, setting it on the tray nearby. Gregor watched every move without saying a word.

Next, she slowly began to unbutton her corset. Temptingly. Teasingly. She let it fall to the floor, and stepped out of her dress without hesitation. She heard Gregor gasp softly from the corner but she ignored him, instead returning to the bed, where she lay down and sprawled across the covers, wearing nothing but her lacy underwaer.

"You don't look very comfortable, sheriff," she said, shooting the clone an innocent look.

She watched the man's Adams apple bob as he swallowed loudly.

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you join me?"

Gregor blinked once, twice, before his resolve crumbled and he broke character. Surging to his feet, he was by her bedside in two strides, towering over her as he gazed down hungrily.

"Kriffing hells, meshla," he murmured tightly. "You look amazing."

She was honestly surprised he'd lasted as long as he had. Although Gregor professed to be into role play, he never seemed able to run the scenario through to completion. As soon as there was a flash of titty, he was done.

She smiled at him, throwing herself backwards onto the bed so that her hair fanned about her.

"Thank you, sheriff."

Gregor licked his lips.

"I don't wanna be sheriff anymore."

He ripped the star from his chest, throwing it into the corner. His waistcoat followed shortly after, along with his shirt, pants,and boots. He was standing fully at attention by the time he straightened, his length hard, red, and flushed with excitement.

"Oh my!" she gasped, continuing with the narrative as long as possible.

Gregor grinned crooked, glancing down at his pride on full display and setting his hands on his hips.

"D'ya like what you see?" he asked cheekily, playfully.

Her smile widened. Subtly, she spread her legs a little further apart.

"What do you think?"

He chuckled, a bright, beautiful noise that made her want him even more. Swiftly, he lowered himself to the bed and straddled her, pinning her to the sheets with his bulk.

"I think you've earned a reward, miss," he said, his grin widening even further. "For being such a good citizen."

She gasped as he thrust into her, all thoughts of foreplay forgotten. It was rough and needy and charged with a desire so deep that it pitted her core. She arched her back as he drove relentlessly into her, nails running down his spine as she held on for dear life. He tore at her undergarments, shredding the lace in his desire to touch more of her.

When it was finally over, when they both lay drained and breathless on the sweat soaked sheets, Gregor let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"I love you, meshla."

She smiled and nuzzled into his cheat.

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

Dogma liked feeling powerless.

It was a bizarre contrast to how he preferred to live his day to day life. Control and proprietary were things he prided himself on. He knew exactly where and how he fitted into the galaxy. And he liked that.

And yet, he still enjoyed every opportunity he could find to let go. To be someone other than who he was. To feel weak and worthless and feeble.

He liked it. He enjoyed it. He craved it.

The lasaat at the bar was a worthy choice. Tall, broad, powerfully built. The sort Dogma not only preferred, but actively sought out.

And so he found himself, splayed on a narrow, lumpy bed in a cheap hotel room, his legs spread wide as the lasaat ruthlessly pounded into him. His hands were pinned above his head by one of the man's paws, the other digging into his thigh as he gripped him hard. He felt sure he would be bruised by the morning, but he wasn't sure he cared.

Dogma whimpered like a wounded animal, though the sound was bourn of pleasure rather than pain. He loved these moments, when he could feel utterly powerless beneath somebody twice his strength. It got him off faster than anything else in the entire galaxy.

Chapter Text

You loved the way the clone wore his armour. It was imposing, formidable, and sexy as hell.

You'd first caught sight of him disembarking from a shuttle on Coruscant. Despite the thousands of clones that came through the maintenance apron every single day, he'd caught your eye, enough that you'd lifted your head from the engine you'd been working on to watch him as he passed.

That's how it had begun. And from that day, you seemed to run into the clone every which way you turned. In the canteen, in the armoury, at the clone bar, everywhere you went, there he was. It became almost funny after a while, and part of you began wondering if the clone was following you. It was silly, and you knew the thought should have filled you with concern if it was true, but you actually found the notion quite exhilarating.

After the seventh or eighth run in, you finally spoke.

It was late one evening, and you'd just gotten off from a very long and arduous shift. Heading into your favourite cantina, you took your usual seat by the bar and ordered a beer. You'd barely taken two sips before somebody took the seat beside you.

"We seem to keep running into each other."

His voice was full of humour, and you turned your head to spot the familiar white and grey armour. You smiled, suddenly flustered.

"Certainly seems that way," you admitted with a nervous laugh, taking a swig of beer to hide your embarrassment.

He huffed a chuckle.

"You're a mechanic, right?"

You nodded.

"Yup. And you're a Commando?"

"Sure am. Of Delta Squad." The clone held out his hand for you to shake it. "The name's Scorch."

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, while the bartender brought the trooper his drink. You watched as the clone removed his helmet and set it on the bar beside him. He was handsome, with a mop of unruly black hair and several scars criss crossing his tanned face.

"So, what brings you down to this level?" you asked politely, trying not to stare.

Scorch swallowed half his pint in one gulp.

"Oh, y'know," he replied with a shrug. "We're on leave. And this seemed like as good a place as any to get drunk."

From personal experience, you certainly knew that for truth. Scorch studied your face for a moment, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Can I get you a drink?"

....................

It was late, almost closing time, and you were several sheets to the wind.

Scorch, who had kept pace with you, was just as tipsy, though it manifested itself in nothing more than a slight slurring of his words and a rosy hue to his cheeks. Somehow, it made him even more appealing, and you found yourself shuffling closer to him along the bar.

"That's a funny story," you remarked with a high-pitched giggle, resting your hand on the man's arm. It was perhaps bold, but you were too drunk to care.

Scorch preened at your words and barked a laugh, knocking back the remainder of his beverage.

"Ha! You don't know the half of it!"

You liked the way his smile pulled at the scars on his face. It made him look more ruggedly handsome.

"I'd like to hear more," you said, absently playing with your hair. "I need a good laugh every now and then."

Nearby, somebody cleared their throat.

"Ahem," said the bartender, looking bored and a bit annoyed. "Sorry to interrupt, but we're about to close."

"Oh!" You glanced at your chrono and saw that it was indeed nearly midnight.

Scorch met your eye and raised a brow.

"I guess the evening's over."

"I guess so."

Outside, the night was cool, and the street by the bar was more or less deserted, though the noise of nearby traffic told you that the tranquillity was merely a delusion. You drew a deep breath as you tugged on your jacket, glancing at Scorch as he shoved his helmet on his head.

"Well, this was fun," the man said, his voice sounding odd through the modulator in his helmet.

You nodded your head.

"It was."

Scorch shifted his feet as though embarrassed.

"Maybe we could do it again next time I rotate back to Coruscant."

You felt hot and cold all over, and thanked the dim lighting which you hoped would hide your blush.

"I'd like that."

You both stood awkwardly for a few moments, before Scorch broke the silence.

"Well, I'd better be going," he said briskly, though he sounded forlorn. "Do you need me to walk you home?"

You shook your head.

"No, I'm just around the corner. I'll be fine."

He nodded.

"Well, good night, I guess."

"Good night, Scorch."

You weren't sure exactly why you kissed him, particularly as he was wearing his helmet, and it was admittedly very weird to plant your lips on the cool pasteel. He froze at the gesture, and you almost immediately pulled back.

"I'm sorry," you stuttered, eyes wide."

Scorch laughed, and for one horrible moment, you thought he would begin mocking you.

"It's fine," he replied with a chuckle. "It's actually quite a compliment."

You flushed even further and decided it was time to leave. You'd barely turned around before Scorch grabbed your arm.

"Hey, don't go," he said, playfully tugging your sleeve.

You halted and faced him, peeking out from under your lashes. Scorch cocked his head to one side and tugged you closer. You went with the movement, craning your neck to look up at him. It was impossible to know his expression beneath his helmet, and that was a little unnerving.

Scorch let go of your sleeve, glancing about the empty street and lowering his voice regardless.

"You don't have to go home if you don't want to."

His voice was heavy with an unspoken suggestion. Your heart fluttered, and you blushed even more.

It was a testament to how drunk you were that you agreed without thought.

Scorch led you into an alleyway beside the bar, which was dark and secluded from prying eyes. Not the most glamorous of locations, but exciting none the less. He pressed you to the wall, his hands reaching up to remove his helmet.

"Wait," you said, licking your lips nervously.

Scorch froze, as though expecting you to call a halt to proceedings. Instead, you reached up to take his hands in yours.

"Leave the helmet on."

You weren't sure why you asked. Perhaps because you somehow felt less self-conscious when you couldn't see his face. Scorch chuckled, moving to grip your hips tightly.

"If that's what you want."

It was. And with his helmet on, the man had to rely on touch alone to get your juices flowing. His fingers alternated between fondling roughly and teasing almost tenderly. You pressed your forehead into his armour as his hands moved lower, one slipping inside the waistband of your uniform.

You gasped as his fingers roughly probed you, testing your boundaries as he grunted approvingly. Another finger joined the first, and within moments, you found yourself grinding against him. You considered returning the favour, but you weren't sure you would be able to relinquish your tight grip on his armour as it felt like the only thing keeping you upright.

Just as you neared that tantalising precipice, Scorch withdrew, coaxing a wistful sigh from your lips. The sound rapidly morphed in a yelp of surprise when he roughly spun you around so that your face was pressed into the wall of the alley.

"Any objections, darlin'?" the man behind you purred as he began tugging down your trousers.

You shook your head.

"None from me."

He chuckled, nudging your legs further apart as he removed his codpiece and dropped it to the floor. After a bit of manoeuvring, Scorch finally sank into you, filling you to the brim and eliciting a filthy string of expletives from your mouth.

He gave a few tentative thrusts before deciding that you were good and ready for him. The pace he set was frantic and determined and you could barely draw breath as Scorch pounded into you, crushing you against the wall as he fucked you roughly in that alleyway. He didn't slow for your first orgasm, and barely did for the second. As you neared your third, you could tell that the man was almost at the end of his tether. His thrusts had become sloppy and he panted through his helmet.

Finally, Scorch pumped once, twice, and buried himself inside you as he filled you with his release. The sensation was enough to bring a third trembling orgasm to your already overstimulated body.

Scorch held you there until you had both finished shaking, and it was only then that he withdrew, flipping you round to face him. With a satisfied sigh, he leaned forward to rest his helmeted forehead against your sweaty one.

"Well," he said with a chuckle. "This was not how I expected my evening to go."

Chapter Text

Wrecker loved how small she felt in his arms.

He was so accustomed to being large and clumsy but somehow, the tiny woman never made him feel that way. She fitted so perfectly around his body that it was almost made to be. She was half his size and probably a quarter his weight, and yet with enough personality to fill a lamda. She was feisty, and never missed the opportunity to verbally spar with Crosshair whenever she got the chance.

All in all, Wrecker was completely and totally in love with the woman. And boy, did he love showing it.

Nothing compared to fucking her, ploughing into her softness with his hard length while she squealed and clawed at him like a feral tooka and begged for more. He obliged, always, because he loved the look she made when he came inside her. He loved hearing her moan out his name and tell him how big he was and how good he felt. He loved the tightness of her cunt clenching around him and the way her small breasts bounced up and down during their vigorous activities.

Those long, steamy nights in her small apartment on the lower levels of Coruscant were etched forever in Wrecker's memory, and he cherished her for that. Laying on the lumpy mattress while she rode his huge cock with merry abandon, he didn't think anything could ever feel this good.

Chapter Text

Boba leaned back in the pilot's chair as he watched the woman step out of her thin, skimpy dress.

She was quite beautiful, or at least beautiful, by the standards of whatever backwater moon he'd landed on. Tall, slim, with golden hair gathered in silky waves about her shoulders, her skin was tanned, not unlike his own, but lacking the weathered and scarred quality of his own hide.

Beneath the garment, she was totally bare. The sight sent a pulse of arousal to Boba’s nether regions. He watched her breasts and hips sway as she sashayed towards him.

"And how may I pleasure you this evening?" she asked in a sultry voice, batting her eyelashes at him.

Boba smirked. He could think of a dozen things he wanted the woman to do to him, but he only had her for a couple of hours.

"Perhaps I'd like to pleasure you."

Her elegant brow raised and her full lips quirked into a smile.

"How generous."

Perhaps, on the surface, but Boba only offered because past experience had taught him that selfless behaviour was usually rewarded with an extra hour or two, free of charge.

He rose to his feet, slowly sauntering towards the woman. He paused just before her, drawing a deep breath and devouring her perfume. A little sickly for his taste, but she smelled better than his own musk at the very least. He reached out a gloved hand and ran it down her side.

"In the chair," he instructed, jerking his head.

She obliged, brushing past him to sink into the seat, spreading her legs wide and offering him a view of her cunt. He found it hard to tear his eyes away from it, his erection throbbing wistfully as he knelt by the chair. Tugging off his gloves with his teeth, he tossed them to the floor and ran his fingers down her thighs. She titled her hips invitingly. He wanted to fuck her, badly, but he would wait.

"Tell me," Boba said as he planted a kiss on that soft flesh. "Have you entertained many other bounty hunters?"

She ran her nails over his bald head and purred.

"A few," she admitted, titling his chin up so that he met her dark eyes. "But I'm sure your weapon will be just as impressive as all the others."

His weapon pressed against the codpiece of his armour, and he chuckled.

"Oh, I know how to handle my blaster."

She shifted in the seat, hooking one ankle over Boba’s shoulder.

"I'm sure you do."

He pressed another kiss into her thigh, an idea forming in his mind.

"You'll be satisfied, I can promise you that," he said, as one hand reached for the pistol holstered at his hip.

The woman stiffened at the sight of the gun, no doubt expecting trouble, but Boba hastily unloaded it and kicked aside the magazine.

"You'd be amazed what I can do with this thing," he murmured, resting the muzzle on her thigh.

The woman watched, still wary but no longer afraid. Boba smiled as he slid the blaster towards her womanhood.

"I can make people scream with it."

Gently, he pressed the barrel into her folds. She hissed, parting her lips in surprise.

"Make them cry out for their God."

The tip of his blaster probed her entrance. She gasped softly, fingers grasping the arms of the chair.

"Make them beg."

He thrust the weapon into her with a firm, even pressure. The woman drew a sharp breath in, though it was a sound of pleasure rather than pain.

Boba grinned to himself. He might only have two hours, but he intended to enjoy every second of it.

Chapter Text

Jesse sat with his back to the headboard, pillows propped behind him as he waited patiently.

Well, perhaps not patiently.

His cock was already beginning to tent the thin bed sheets draped over his waist. He gave it a lazy squeeze, grinning to himself in anticipation.

He knew exactly what was coming.

The door to the refresher slid open and his head turned towards the noise. She stepped into the room, a shy smile on her lips, and her white facial markings glowing in the dim light. She was dressed in a fluffy white bath robe, which hung loosely on her curvaceous frame.

Jesse took a moment to admire the woman that he called his.

"Do you like what you see, trooper?" Dera asked with a little wiggle of her hips.

Jesse chuckled, shifting to give his rapidly swelling cock more space.

"Always, mesh'la."

She laughed, her hands wrapping around the cords of the gown.

"Then I'm sure you'll like this too."

She let the robe fall to the ground. Beneath, she was wearing a lacy corset and matching underwear, blue and white to match the stripes on her lekku. Her breasts were pushed up and almost spilling out of the top, and the garment was almost see-through, so that her pert nipples were barely concealed.

Jesse didn't think it was possible for him to get any harder.

The togrutta made a show of slowly walking towards him, running her hands over her body as she did so.

"What's the matter? Tooka got your tongue?"

Jesse realised his jaw was practically on his lap and he hastily shut it with a snap.

"For once, yes." His eyes roved over her form. "Kriff, you look amazing."

She leaned to rest her palms on the mattress, stooping in a way that very nearly made her tits fall into his face. Jesse swallowed, unconsciously reaching beneath the blanket to grab his shaft.

"Well, I'm glad you approve."

Jesse did. He really did.

She slunk up the bed towards him, her blue eyes wide and predatory. She paused once she was hovering over him.

"Let's get rid of this, shall we?"

Dera plucked off the blanket and threw it to the floor, leaving Jesse exposed, his flesh pebbling with excitement and his manhood throbbing in his grasp. The tip was flushed and leaking in anticipation, something which the woman didn't fail to notice.

"Awww," she said with a mocking pout. "Is somebody struggling to contain himself?"

"I always am around you."

It was the truth, after all.

Dera swung her leg over to straddle his lap, pressing his manhood between her thighs. Jesse sucked a breath through clenched teeth, desperately resisting the urge to grind against her. He really did struggle to contain himself around her. Especially when she looked like this.

With a sigh, he reached out to fiddle with the lacy corset. There really was nothing sexier than a woman in underwear. Particularly when that underwear was barely concealing anything. At all.

Jesse's fingers found the lace holding the thing together, and he tugged it loose, not fully, but enough that her breasts began spilling out of it. He leaned forward, burying his face into that softness, pressing his lips to her skin. It felt like he was going to kriffing burst, but he'd hold on. For her.

Dera squealed as his stubbly chin tickled her, writhing on top of him. Jesse keened into the friction, pulling her closer to him. She let him, nuzzling the top of his head, before finally pulling back.

"OK, stud," she said with a playful smile. "You've been quite patient enough."

Lifting herself off of him, she paused to line him up, before sinking down on him. Jesse groaned like an animal as his cock sheathed itself in her warm, tight wetness. She kept going until he was balls deep into her, and only when she couldn't go any further did she begin to move. Slowly at first, deliberately teasing him, and leaving Jesse panting and clinging to her tightly. She picked up the pace, her tits bounding enthusiastically as she rode him hard, fucking him into the mattress like her life depended on it. Sweat beaded on Jesse's body, and he fought hard to hold on, desperate for it to last as long as possible.

Dera finally came with a scream, throwing her head back and clenching around him. Jesse followed less than a second later, the relief almost too much to bear.

Afterwards, as they lay tangled in the sweat soaked sheets, Dera chuckled into his chest.

"I always knew you were an underwear man."

Chapter Text

Keeli moved away from the camp, heading towards the brush and scrub, his helmet tucked under one arm.

He lit the cigarette as soon as he was out of view, taking a long, blissful drag. It wasn't forbidden, per se, but was often regarded as an unpleasant vice. And Keeli didn't like anybody thinking that he was flawed in any way.

He headed to his usual spot, a few hundreds yards from his tent in a small clearing amongst the forest. At the centre, there was a large boulder, which posed as a reasonably comfortable seat while he enjoyed his nicotine fix. It was a peaceful spot, and more than anything, Keeli enjoyed those few brief moments of solitude.

Except that, today, the area was already occupied.

The woman sitting cross-legged atop the rock was vaguely familiar to him, and he supposed he must have seen her around the camp before. Her hair was raven black, gathered in a high pony tail at the top of her head. You wore the standard, grey overall that most of the civvies wore, though the top half of hers was unfastened, the arms tied around her waist to reveal the black vest she wore beneath. Leaning back on the rock, her eyes were closed, and a cigarette was jammed between her pursed lips.

She must have heard Keeli approach because she cracked one grey eye. Her frown turned into a look of alarm when she recognised the marks of rank on Keeli's armour. She stared at him and he stared at her, both wary of the other. Eventually, the girl cleared her throat.

"Are you just here for the scenery?" she asked in an almost, but not quite, tone of sarcasm.

Keeli blinked slowly, breaking out of his trance.

"I'm here for the same reason you are," he replied a little gruffly.

The woman smiled, stretched, and scooched over to make room for him. Keeli hesitated for a moment, eventually deciding that he might as well sit rather than stand like an idiot. He settled on the edge of the rock, leaving a respectable distance between them, and took a drag of his cigarette.

They sat in silence for a moment before the woman spoke.

"Didn't know clones were allowed to smoke," she said with a lopsided grin.

Keeli shot her a scowl.

"We're not."

"Ah. A rebel."

He shrugged, twirling the cigarette absently in his fingers.

"Not really. I just like it."

She huffed, admiring the glowing end of her own smoke.

"Me, got a dreadful oral fixation. Tried chewing gum, but that wasn't for me."

Keeli nodded, having tried that alternative himself some time ago.

"It's not as satisfying."

Her eyes took on a mischievous quality, and she nodded.

"No, it's not."

Keeli turned away, but the woman continued to watch him. He finished his cigarette and snubbed the end on the rock, hiding the butt in one of his belt pouches.

"Well, must get back."

"Must you?" she asked, putting out her own and raising an eyebrow.

Keeli supposed that he didn't, though he wasn't quite sure what the woman wanted. Perhaps she just desired company, or perhaps she had something more unsavoury in mind. There was only one way to determine which.

"No. But why do you ask me to stay?"

Her smile widened, and her eyes twinkled.

"Because I was hoping for a hook up."

Keeli felt as though he'd been hit over the head with something heavy. He considered himself a man well versed in romantic liasons, but he'd never had someone outright ask him for sex.

"Uh," was all he could say, his jaw halfway to the floor.

Her expression faltered, and she cleared her throat to hide her embarrassment.

"Of course, if you're not attracted to me, that's fine."

She lowered her gaze and fumbled in her pocket for another cigarette. Keeli hastily composed himself, running a hand over his stubbly head.

"No! No, it's not that at all."

She was attractive, certainly, more than attractive, if he was being honest. She watched him with those twinkly eyes, and he felt something fluttering around his innards.

"You caught me off guard, that's all."

She relaxed a little, her posture becoming less tense.

"So is that a yes, or a no?"

"Yes."

He replied instinctively before his mind had even processed the response.

The woman smiled once again, uncrossing her legs invitingly.

"Come on now, soldier," she said with a smirk. "Let's see how far that oral fixation really goes."

Chapter Text

Tup sat in the corner of 79s, his untouched drink on the table before him.

It was loud, the music pounding at his eardrums, almost to the point of overstimulating. Around him, his brothers ground and gyrated with whichever partner they had selected for the evening. Even the Captain had left him, seeking out Commanders Cody and Wolffe for a catch up. And so Tup was alone.

It wasn't that he didn't want to join in. On the contrary, he'd never witnessed anything like this before, and he desperately wanted to be a part of it. But he was young and inexperienced and lacked the confidence of the other troopers.

Across the room, he locked eyes with a beautiful young nautolan woman. She was deep in conversation with her friend, her black eyes dancing and a smile on her full lips. She glanced at him, just a casual glance, but one which made Tup feel hot and cold at the same time. He hastily buried his face in his drink to hide the blush.

....................

The evening was not even close to winding down, but Tup was about ready to head back to his bunk.

Much as he didn't mind people watching, it was getting tiring sitting on his own while his brothers made out with attractive women. Not to mention the way it made Tup's armour pinch around the groin.

With a sigh, he drained his glass and rose to his feet.

"Going so soon?"

Tup rounded on the speaker, caught off guard. Staring back at him was the young nautolan woman he'd locked eyes with earlier. She was shorter than he'd expected, only coming up to his shoulder, and she had to crane her neck to smile up at him.

"Oh," he stammered, felling a flush rise in his cheeks. "Um, yeah."

The nautolan pouted, folding her arms as though she were sulking.

"Pity. I was coming to keep you company."

Tup opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Oh."

He was really kriffing bad at this. He'd never actually spoken to a woman before, and it was glaringly obvious. The nautolan didn't seem to mind however, and she chuckled at his embarrassment.

"Perhaps we could sit for a little while?"

He nodded. He really didn't have to leave after all. The young woman squeezed past him to sit at his booth, making a show of brushing heavily up against him. Tup felt himself stiffen beneath his codpiece. He swallowed loudly, hastily plonking himself in the booth so as to avoid looking awkward.

"So, trooper," said the woman, arranging her tendrils sp that they hung comfortably. "What's your name?"

It took Tup a minute to remember what his name was.

"It's, err, Tup. Tup's my name."

She giggled at his fluster, which only made it worse.

"It's nice to meet you, Tup," she said with a warm smile. "My name is Nalmeera."

He awkwardly shook her proffered hand, wishing he wasn't wearing his gloves so that he could appreciate her warmth. Nalmeera giggled at what was undoubtedly a goofy look on his face, leaning one elbow on the table so that she could watch him.

"This is your first time in 79s, isn't it?"

Tup grimaced and smiled sheepishly.

"Is it that obvious?"

She chuckled, reaching to grip his forearm.

"I won't tell."

She studied him for a moment, the lighting dancing across her pale blue skin.

"I'm guessing this is your first time anywhere," she said not unkindly. "You look awfully young for a trooper."

Tup supposed that he did when compared to the others. His face lacked the weathered hardness of the men that had been seasoned by battle. He'd only been out of Kamino a few short weeks, after all.

He nodded.

Nalmeera's eyes took on a playful quality, dancing with something akin to mischief.

"Your friends all seem to be having a good time. But you're here all alone."

Tup glanced at the dancefloor just in time to see Hardcase twirling his date around in his arms, while Fives had his tongue shoved down the throat of his.

"I'm just observing," he replied, feeling his face heat up again.

"Ah, I see," said the nautolan with a teasing poke to his ribs. "Watching and learning."

He nodded before realising the meaning of her words.

"No!" Tup insisted, his face flushing. "Not like that!"

"It's far better to learn through practice," she continued, ignoring his statement.

Her hand came to rest on Tup's thigh, and his mind momentarily short circuited. All he could do was stare at the contact, dumbfounded, heart racing.

"Is this OK?"

Tup felt giddy, and it had nothing to do with the drink.

"Yes," he replied quickly.

"Good."

Her fingers found their way between his thigh plate and knee guard, and she squeezed. Tup was just scrambling for something to say to break the tension when Nalmeera leaned across and planted her lips to his. He froze, unable to react. Her lips were soft and warm, and his hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before his body reacted of its own accord. He kissed her back, moving his mouth against hers in a dance which was unfamiliar to him, but pleasurable none the less.

The woman deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and Tup reciprocated. She tasted pleasant, sweet, and he wanted more.

Pulling the girl onto his lap, Tup allowed his hands to move to her waist, gripping her flesh tightly. The persistent throbbing between his legs intensified, and he felt himself hardening within his armour. Body ablaze with desire, Tup kissed Nalmeera until his lips started to go numb. She hummed into his mouth, spurring him on, and he dragged her against him. The friction her body provided against his was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he wanted more. He craved more.

Tup gripped the woman so hard his fingers hurt. The aching in his groin was almost to the point of being painful, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

The pressure grew and grew until Tup finally snapped. His manhood throbbed, releasing his load to paint the inside of his blacks. He moaned breathily, riding out his high hungrily. It wasn't his first orgasm, though his previous self explorations were nothing compared to the bliss that washed over him with Nalmeera perched on his lap.

Chapter Text

She was close, that much Thorn knew by the way her cunt clenched around his cock.

He pounded into her furiously, the bed springs creaking under the intensity of their fucking. His eyes bored into hers, daring her to look away though she did not. Her fingernails raked down his back, drawing blood, and the pain spurred him on.

She arched her back, hooked her ankles around his hips and dragged him into her as she came. Thorn obliged, angling himself to drive as deep as he could, squeezing out every last drop of pleasure from her tired body before he finally succumbed to his own inevitable release.

Later, as they lay in the twisted, sweaty sheets, dizzy in the post euphoric bliss, the young woman rolled onto her side and perched on one elbow.

"That was something, trooper," she said with a grin, her hair tousled and her eyes hazy.

Thorn grunted, preening at the compliment.

"I aim to please."

"You certainly do that."

She reached out a slender finger to run it down his side, tracing the multitude of scars that marked his skin. He watched her, cocking an arm behind his head, as she trailed across the broad expanse of his chest. There she paused, running a thumb against the dozen or so tattoo's that were etched into the left hand side of his ribcage.

She leaned closer, squinting in the darkness as she read through the names.

"What's this? The names of all your ex girlfriends?"

She chuckled teasingly. Thorn shrugged and turned away.

"Yeah, something like that."

It was an odd ritual he had, marking himself with the name of every woman he'd ever let close to him. Most people would consider it bragging, but to Thorn it was much deeper than that. Life was tough, brutal at times, and it gave him comfort to have something to remind him of the good times. And he was perpetually grateful to the women that had let him share in those moments.

Beside him, the girl finished tracing the last letter.

"Will I make it onto that list?" she asked teasingly, her eyes bright in the half darkness.

Thorn rolled onto his side to face her. She really was quite lovely, but after tonight he would never see her again.

"What's your name?" he asked, leaning in to plant a kiss on her neck as his manhood began to swell once again.

Chapter Text

You lay back on the mound of pillows as you watched the man standing at the foot of the bed strip off his armour.

Hunter's smouldering eyes never left yours, not even for a second. His gaze was intense, predatory, hungry, roving over your bound form as you lay tied to the bed frame by the red bandana.

Once he was stripped completely bare, his manhood flushed and erect, he stooped to his discarded gear and rummaged for a few seconds, before rising with his vibro blade in his hand.

"Are you sure about this, sweetheart?" the man asked as he knelt on the end of the bed.

You nodded, parting your legs invitingly.

"Yes. I trust you.".

His expression softened, but only briefly. In a heartbeat, his handsome face had taken on that desperate look again. You felt a flutter somewhere behind your naval and a pulsing heat between your thighs.

Slowly, almost painfully so, Hunter slunk up the bed towards you, his captive prey. His nose trailed along the fabric of your tunic, and he took a deep breath as he nuzzled into your neck.

"I can smell how much you want me."

The statement sent your arousal to the next level. You moaned softly, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together.

Hunter chuckled, his smirk pulling at his tattoo.

"Let's get you outta these clothes, darlin'"

The huskiness of his voice sent you into overdrive. You felt something cold press against your skin at your ankles and looked down in time to see Hunter's vibro knife gliding through the fabric of your trousers, followed by your tunic. The cloth fell away in tattered shreds, leaving you in your undergarments.

At the sight of your bare flesh, Hunter growled in his throat.

"So beautiful," he purred, pressing a whiskery kiss to your thigh. "So perfect."

You keened at the contact, arching your back towards him.

"Don't tease," you begged, face flushed.

Hunter chuckled, his eyes dancing as he crouched over you.

"As you wish."

You knew what to expect, but even so, it was a shock when you felt the hilt of his knife probing your entrance. Reflexively, you parted your legs, allowing him better access as he slowly thrust the handle into you. He stopped just short of the blade, and you watched, chest heaving, as he drew the weapon back out again just as slowly.

Abruptly, he thrust into you again, eliciting a squeal of delight, and again, and again. The hilt slipped easily into your wetness, and the vibrations pulsing down the blade and into the shaft were better than any vibrator. You tried to pish into his thrusting, desperate for more, but the bindings held you tight in place. All you could do was gasp and moan and tremble as Hunter's knife pushed you closer to an orgasm.

You finally peaked when the man dug his nails into your thigh, gripping tightly and holding you steady. The tingling overwhelmed you, curling your toes and forcing the breath from your lungs. Hunter watched you intently as you came, slowing his pace and finally withdrawing the blade once you began to tremble from overstimulation. With a huff, he brought the knife to his face, inspecting the now slippery handle.

"That's my girl."

You watched as his tongue lapped at the wetness, cleaning the hilt, until he was finally satisfied, and tossed the weapon aside.

The look in his eye was almost feral,

"Now it's my turn."

Chapter Text

It was becoming something of a habit now.

After their first encounter in the medical storage locker, Havoc seemed to somehow find his way into the medbay at least once a week. The excuses he made were quite entertaining.

"I, err, accidentally slipped in the shower," he'd say, unfastening his pants to show her the bruise on his backside.

Or, another classic:

"I was training in the gym and I think I strained a muscle."

She always somehow managed to keep a straight face while she diligently inspected whatever 'injury' he'd sustained. And afterwards, they would always end up fucking, either in a storage locker, or back at her quarters.

It had almost become a tradition.

On this particular evening, she was alone in the infirmary, writing up her final few reports. She heard the door slide open, though she didn't immediately look up.

"Can I help you?"

The sound of somebody clearing their throat made her lift her gaze.

"I've done something to my leg, Doc. Hurts real bad."

Havoc's eyes were wide and innocent looking, though she didn't buy the charade for one moment.

"I'm sure you have," she replied, setting down her data pad and raising an eyebrow.

"Honestly, Doc."

She fought to hold back her smile.

"On the bed."

Havoc's smirk widened.

"Thought you'd never ask."

The man began stripping off his armour, and by the time she'd risen to her feet and made her way over to the bed, he was in his blacks and lying prone on the mattress. She kept her eyes averted from the bulge down the front of his trousers.

"Now, which leg?"

Havoc pointed to his right, high up his thigh.

"Do you think it'll have to come off?" he asked with a pout.

She couldn't contain her amusement then, letting out a giggle.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, trooper."

Slowly, she ran her hand up his leg, beginning at his ankle, and stopping just short of his groin.

"Does this hurt?"

Havoc shook his head.

"No."

She squeezed the muscle of his thigh, kneading his flesh with her fingers.

"How abou this?"

Havoc shook his head, eyes watching her hands intently. Humming in feigned concern, she moved her palm to the inside of his leg.

"Here?"

Havoc sucked in a sharp breath as her fingertips brushed against his straining erection.

"It's a little higher up."

Glancing at the door, she pressed her hand into his crotch and squeezed. The man hissed, sinking back onto the mattress with a sigh.

"I can see this is causing you some discomfort," she said with feigned concern.

"It really is," Havoc replied with a brisk nod. "What do you recommend, Doc?"

She fixed a very serious expression on her face.

"There is one treatment I can think of. Bit it's very controversial."

The tent in Havoc's pants grew and he swallowed loudly.

"I don't mind controversial."

"Good. Then lie back and relax, trooper."

Swiftly, she stripped off her trousers, leaving herself in just her lab coat. Havoc watched appreciatively, the smirk on his face sickening. With a heave, she hopped up onto the gurney, positioning herself so that she was straddling his hips, his manhood nestled between her thighs.

"Hmmm, Doc," the clone murmured, his hands reaching for her waist. "Looking good up there."

She rolled her eyes, reaching between them to tug down his leggings, just enough the free him. Havoc groaned as she lowered herself onto him, sinking down on his cock to the hilt.

"I know," she replied with a cocky half smile.

She began slow, rocking her hips against him, but within minutes she was riding him hard, bouncing on his cock as she chased her release. Havoc muttered a constant stream of expletives, praise, and unintelligible noise as she fucked him into the mattress. He peaked with a growl, and she followed almost immediately after, heart pounding as her toes curled and she almost forgot to breath.

Spent, she flopped forward, carefully resting her head on the man's heaving chest. He was warm and comfortingly solid, and for a few brief moments she forgot the world outside the medbay doors.

Chapter Text

Tech adjusted his goggles as he stared down at you.

It was almost unnatural how unperturbed the man was at the sight of you laying completely naked on the bunk, legs propped on his shoulders, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat and hair tousled.

"Hmm," Tech murmured, watching your expression as he lazily thrust the vibrator inside of you. "Your level of enjoyment for this device seems lesser than the previous one."

You whimpered needily as he withdrew the toy, carefully leaning over to set it on the small table beside the bed.

"Would you like to revert to that one, or move onto the next?"

"Next."

He nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"Would you like to choose, or shall I?"

"You."

The longer this went on, the harder it was becoming to speak.

Tech murmured in approval, his gloved hand hovering over the array on the table.

"Perhaps this one?"

He selected one of his own creations, a short, stubby device fashioned from the handle of a screw driver. You whimpered, nodding hastily.

Tech smirked as he lowered his hand between your thighs. You felt the cold metal tease at your entrance and gasped, arching your back. Slowly, the man inserted the contraption into you, stretching you wide. Methodically, he began pumping it into you, studying your expression and body language intently as he waited for cues. Your fingers gripped his armour, which he had yet to take off, and you held on tight as he slowly fucked you with the screwdriver handle.

Just before you reached the crest of that delightful wave, he withdrew with a hum.

"I believe that I may ne able to improve this design," he said, studying the dildo and arching an eyebrow.

You groaned, hot and needy, as the man rose to his feet and headed towards his workbench. You adored Tech, but sometimes his need for perfection drove you to the brink of insanity.

Chapter Text

CX-2 watched the woman squirm beneath him.

He had no idea what her name was, but he'd bought an evening of her time, and he intended to enjoy every second of it. Cocking his helmeted head to one side, he watched her face contort with pleasure as he thrust deeply and repeatedly into her. He himself was very much enjoying the whole ordeal, though outwardly it was impossible to tell.

The woman clawed at his armour, tugging at him as she prompted him to go harder. But he did not.

Instead, he pulled out, reaching down a gloved hand to tease at her cunt, circling her clit in a way that had her arching her back off of the bed.

"Yes!"

She moaned copisously, jibbering away as he melted her mind with his ministrations. His own body was aching for a release, but he could last a while longer. And besides, he liked watching her writhe underneath him.

He paid close attention to her body language, slowing and withdrawing when he sensed her close to the edge. Intermittently, he fucked her, just to offer himself a bit of physical stimulation.

CX-2 grinned to himself beneath his helmet. The night was young, and he would have her begging for a release by the end.

Chapter Text

Hardcase massaged his cock and leaned back in the chair as he watched the two woman kissing on the bed.

Both were topless, wearing nothing but their lacy panties. They kissed deeply, passionately, eyes closed and tongues lapping as they explored the others body. They knelt on the mattress, positioned to give Hardcase a clear view. Which he very much appreciated.

The dark haired girl hummed in appreciation as the blonde reached up to fondle her breasts. She arched her back, cracking one eye to make sure Hardcase was watching.

He squeezed himself harder, appreciating the show.

One of the ladies slipped her hand inside the undergarments of the other, and even from across the room, Hardcase could hear the wet sound as she began working her friend.

A surge of arousal rippled through him and he finally rose to his feet.

"Room for one more?"

Chapter Text

Sinker stared at his own reflection in the floor to length mirror. His body was bare and his legs spread as he sat in the chair, arms bounty behind his wrist with pink fluffy hand cuffs.

It was an utterly ridiculous position to be in, and he was glad that none of his brothers would ever see him like this. But the hard length jutting from between his thighs betrayed his guilty enjoyment of the situation.

Behind him, the woman stepped up, her red painted lips pulled into a smirk. The kind that promised untold mischief and sent a hot throb of arousal to Sinker's nether regions.

"I do enjoy seeing you like this," she purred, resting her hands on his shoulders.

Sinker smiled at her reflection.

"That's why I do it, baby."

She chuckled, a light, beautiful sound. Her hands slunk lower, wrapping around his chest, and Sinker watched the reflection squeeze the plentiful muscle there. Sinker's flesh pebbled under the contact, and he hummed approvingly.

She leaned in to plant a kiss in the crook of his neck, and he nuzzled her back, drinking in the warm smell of her. He watched the reflection of her as her hands moved further still, coming to rest on his hips.

Sinker shuddered, waiting for her to continue, but she did not. He bit off a groan, his cock twitching needly.

"Don't tease," he said hoarsely, shifting himself in the hopes to prompt her into more.

Again, she laughed.

"But that's half the fun."

Sinker really did groan then.

"Please," he said, his arousal outweighing the shame he felt for begging.

Behind him, she hummed thoughtfully.

"Ok. Seeing as you've been such a good boy so far."

The hands of the woman in the mirror finally gave him what he wanted. She took his length in her right, while her left stroked his thigh.

Sinker watched as she pumped his cock, adding a little twist at the end, just how he liked it. His reflected expression was one of wild hunger, and he strained fruitlessly against the binders, desperate for more. She obliged.

It was satisfying to watch himself cum in her grasp, streaks of white painting his stomach and her hand as he covered them both in his release. She continued to work him as he erupted and didn't stop once he was finished.

"Good boy," she purred in his ear. He was surprisingly, still hard. "But I think you still have a little more in you."

Chapter Text

Cody's gaze was fixed on you as you stood in the briefing room, head cocked to one side and arms folded across your chest. It was a wonder the man could hear anything General Kenobi was saying, but you supposed that perhaps he had a more apt ability to multitask that the majority of the male species.

You ignored him, as always. At least in front of prying eyes. Behind closed doors, it was a different matter...

"Does everyone understand their assignments?" Kenobi asked, winding up the briefing.

A murmur of 'yes' and 'affirmative's from around the room. The jedi smiled a tight-lipped smile.

"Excellent. We depart at 0600 tomorrow."

You didn't even make it to your quarters before Cody accosted you, grasping your arm and dragging you into the closest supply cupboard. You went willingly, allowing him to shove you inside and seal the door behind you both.

"Cyarika," the Commander said, placing his hands on your hips and smiling down at you. "I missed you."

You smiled in return, fingers grasping the front of his armour. It truly had been far too long since you'd last seen him.

"I missed you too."

His eyes darted down at you, and his lips quirked at the corners.

"I like the uniform," he said with an appreciative murmur. "The last time I saw you, you were still wearing overalls."

You tugged at the grey fabric and chuckled.

"Yeah. I prefer the overalls, honestly. Didn't have to worry so much about keeping them clean."

Cody took a half step closer, a definite smirk etched on his face.

"Oh, I definitely prefer the uniform."

You gave his arm a playful slap, to which he gasped with mock indignation.

"Assaulting a commanding officer is a serious offence, y'know," he said, though he was unable to keep a straight face.

You hummed in response.

"So is fucking a commanding officer. But what are you gonna do about that?"

Cody's eyes took on a hungry look and he licked his lips.

"Absolutely nothing."

His mouth met yours, and he kissed you deeply, passionately, his lips warm and soft and his tongue dancing with yours. You reached up to begin unbuttoning your tunic, but the man stopped you, gripping your hand tightly.

"Leave the uniform on," he said, voice hoarse.

You complied, letting your arm fall to your side. It truly had been too long. But you had no doubt Cody would be more than willing to make up for lost time.

Chapter Text

Hound cast a wary glance behind him before kneeling on the floor beside his bunk. The barracks were empty, but he certainly didn't want any of his brothers to see him.

Once satisfied that he was alone, he carefully unlocked his chest, reaching in to pull out a small, cardboard box. Holding it tightly, he sat on the edge of his mattress.

Carefully, he removed the lid, setting it to one side. Inside was stashed a dozen or so pairs of ladies undergarments, ranging from shorts to lacy thongs, in various colours and sizes. A surge of arousal rippled through Hound at the sight, and he once again cast a wary look at the door.

He set the box down on the lid and plucked out the top pair of black lace panties. They'd come from a Twi'lek woman he'd met at a bar one night, and who had given him a night of passion in a rented hotel room. He'd slunk away the next morning while she was still sleeping, though not before taking his souvenir.

Running the fabric through his fingers, the memory sent another spike of arousal straight to his groin, enough that his manhood began tenting his blacks. With a groan, he gave himself a squeeze.

He remembered how good she felt, riding him ruthlessly that night, the sound of flesh on flesh and her screams of pleasure almost deafening. The hand not fondling the underwear slipped beneath his blacks.

Her skin had been golden yellow, adorned with beautiful white markings at the tips of her lekku. She'd smelt like spring flowers and gin, an intoxicating odour.

Hound brought the panties to his nose and drew a breath, the scent still present. His cock ached and he pumped himself harder.

That night had been utter heaven, and she'd let him cum inside her not once but twice.

Precum began oozing from his manhood at the memory and he bit his lip.

She'd even given him head in the shower when he'd tried to wash himself off, and he'd painted her white with his release, creating more patterns across her glistening skin.

Hound finally snapped, his orgasm short and sharp and intense. When he was finally finished, he bundled up the underwear, threw it back in the box which he tucked under his bed once again. Ready for next time.

Chapter Text

Waxer nuzzled into your neck as he finished, sucking kisses into the flesh and giving a few final thrusts until he was finally satiated.

Pulling out, he flopped boneslessly on the bed beside you, both dazed in the post euphoric bliss.

"How was that, mesh'la?" Waxer asked with a crooked grin, his eyes dancing.

You nodded, barely able to breathe, let alone speak. Waxer chuckled.

"I'll take that as a positive," he said, rolling over to the edge of the mattress.

With a grunt, the man rose to his feet, plucking your white fluffy dressing gown from where it hung on the back of the door. He pulled the garment on, looking utterly ridiculous, but not seeming to care.

The man disappeared into the refresher, returning a moment later with a flannel and a glass of water.

"Here," he said, kneeling beside you and slipping his hand under your head. "Rehydrate."

You did as instructed, taking a few large gulps to wet your parched throat. Once you were done, Waxer set the glass aside and nodded approvingly.

"Good girl."

Gently, he slid his hand up your calf, gently parting your legs, while the hand holding the flannel began wiping you down. It was warm and soothing and you felt yourself relax even more. By the time he was finished, you were already half asleep, and you barely even registered the dip of the mattress as he lay down beside you.

....................

You awoke to the smell of bacon wafting through the bedroom. You opened your eyes to see daylight streaming through the windows, and the bed empty beside you.

Sitting up, you yawned loudly, stretching the kinks out of your muscles and sweeping a strand of hair from your face.

Evidently hearing the sounds of you stirring, Waxer's head popped around the doorway to the kitchen.

"You're awake!" he said with a grin.

You nodded groggily.

"I'm awake."

Stay there, mesh'la. I'll be right in."

Settling back into the pillows with a sigh, you waited. A minute later, the clone emerged from the kitchen, carrying a stray in both hands, which he set on the nightstand.

"Breakfast is served!"

He stood there proudly, hands on hips and a grin stretching from ear to ear. He was dressed in nothing but a frilly apron, the one your grandmother had given you for your birthday years ago. It was both funny and heartwarming at the same time.

Suppressing a giggle, you turned towards the tray, which was ladened with bacon, eggs and toast, some of which looked a little on the burnt side. There was also a pot of steaming caf, and cutlery to accompany the feast.

"You made me breakfast?" you asked with genuine warmth.

Waxer nodded, sitting down beside you.

"I did."

"That's so sweet!"

Waxer blushed a little and ran a hand over his bald head.

"Yeah, well, you're worth it, mesh'la."