Work Text:
Unlike many of its kind, the clone unit nicknamed "Dogma" did not cry or protest Krell's orders. It just bent over, blank-faced, and began to remove its armor and bodyglove with quick, efficient movements.
As he watched, Krell reclined in the softly padded chair of Umbaran design which he'd commandeered from what he presumed was the base's officer's mess. It was plush, comfortable, wide enough to accommodate his broad frame. And as to whether it was stable enough to hold more than just his body weight or not - he'd find out in a few minutes.
With its shell removed, the clone looked even smaller, its soft flesh and fragile physique on full display. It didn't make sense to Krell – that the Republic would have ordered an army of humans to fight for it. Why not one of Wookies, or Trandoshans – or Besalisks like himself?
Then again, Krell couldn't really complain. It satisfied one of his baser instincts to dig his claws into a clone's supple flesh, to lift its light body into his lap and impale it on his cock. To listen to its cries for mercy as it writhed, overcome by his superior physique. It was like devouring prey he’d hunted down himself.
"Slick yourself up," he drawled when ‘Dogma’ - what a ridiculous name - began shuffling its feet, maybe because it was bored or uneasy or whatever base emotions these creatures were able to feel. He reached for the bottle of lube on the low table beside the chair and threw it.
The clone caught it in both hands and wasted no time popping the cap open and squirting a generous amount onto its fingers. Krell grunted and looked on as it slipped its fingers between its legs and penetrated itself with not so much as a hitch in its breath. These clones were always so eager to get themselves sullied and dirty, eager to be splayed open by no matter what. Krell could probably have told this one to fuck itself on his lightsaber and it would have done so just to please him and itself.
"Both holes," he snapped when the clone pulled its fingers out and began straightening up.
Now that elicited a reaction - the faintest of blushes across the bridge of the clone’s nose as it stuck its dripping fingers into itself from behind.
This time, it took a little longer, but still not too long. Krell's lips curled up at the squelching sounds that were echoing around the room. Disgusting little creatures, these clones, yet they were the next best thing to what he desired to sate his appetites.
"Come here," he said when he saw that it was ready.
The clone unit obeyed, its back held straight and its arms stiff by its side. When Krell picked it up by the waist and lifted it onto his lap, he felt the tension in every line of its body. It didn't even break when he fisted his cock a few times before pulling the clone’s thighs apart to rest on either side of his hips. Then, he pushed it to lower its body in his lap.
At the first brush of his genitals against slick, flushed skin, his cock split along its middle seam and, twin tips undulating, began its search. It found two holes, one slightly tighter than the other, and set out to fill both of them.
The special lube he'd given the clone executed its service admirably, rendering the human muscle and tissue relaxed enough for Krell to penetrate without discomfort. Still, the clone was snug around him as he slid inside, just on the right side of tight. It had propped up its hands on his broad chest, and now, it pushed out a strained "Hhhngh" whenever he thrust in deeper, its face scrunching up as it visibly fought to keep breathing.
Otherwise, it remained silent. Not a plea, not a word of dissent.
Krell would have admired the clone, had he not felt like this was just one of the many things it owed him while in his service.
Not long after, he bottomed out. In his lap, the clone sat and shook, its chest heaving with choked-off breaths, its already ugly face with the nonsensical tattoo screwed up in a grimace. When Krell looked down, he could see its belly bulging out slightly where he was seated inside it.
Krell smiled. What a delectable sight, despite the ugliness of the creature itself. With two broad palms, he gripped the clone's thighs and began kneading their soft flesh, scratching it with his nails, drawing hair-thin lines of crimson blood across the tan skin. His other two arms hoisted the clone close by the waist and began the laborious task of bouncing it up and down on his split cock.
Now, at last, the clone cried out. A flush spread from its cheeks down its neck and flowered on its chest, almost black in the dim light of the room.
Krell leaned back and enjoyed the sensation of a squirming warm body clenching spasmodically around him.
Of course, he'd chosen this particular clone unit for the defect that allowed him to enjoy two holes at once. There were others in this battalion which he could have chosen - CT-7567 among them, that mouthy captain he’d begun to loathe; or that young trooper with the long hair over which the ARC trooper CT-5555 acted so protective - but it had been a long day, he was weary, and this particular clone had seemed like it would cause him the least hassle.
He would enjoy CT-7567 another time - a time when he would have conveniently mislaid the lube that now made it so easy to bounce the clone unit called 'Dogma' up and down on his cock. He was sure CT-7567 would produce an array of more interesting sounds, like wails, or sobs… much more enticing than the occasional whine the clone unit that was riding his cock now was emitting.
The thought made Krell's insides tense, and he glared up at the clone, imagining the tattoo on its face gone and its shaved hair many shades paler than the shade it was now.
Panting, the clone dropped its head back, exposing the long, lean, vulnerable line of its neck, and choked out a moan. Its hands scrabbled for purchase against Krell’s chest, finding none.
Krell came in the clone's insides which were gripping him tightly, like a bodyglove. He drew blood as he pulled the small, supple body flush against his own and dug his teeth into the soft flesh of a shoulder. It tasted sour on his palate, sweetened however by the pained cry that tumbled from the clone's lips.
He kept them in that position until his cock was finished pulsing. Then, he thrust the clone away and commanded, "Off."
The relaxing effects of the lube seemed to have worn off. Tears swam in the clone's eyes as it struggled to pull off, its insides tensing and rippling around Krell. When it was finally done, Krell's forked cock slipping free at last, it scrambled to get off his lap and take up position beside his chair, falling into parade rest.
Krell glanced at his spend speckling the creature's thighs and glowing a faint green before he turned away and began cleaning himself up.
Silence at his side. When Krell had finished wiping himself down and looked over, the clone was still standing there. Dark blood had oozed from the bite on its shoulder and run down over its chest and hips to mingle with Krell's come on its thighs.
Krell leered. "You may take your clothes and leave."
The clone flinched but didn't budge. There was a new set to its mouth Krell hadn't ever seen on it before, a determination he instantly disliked.
"What is it?" he grunted.
"Sir." For the first time since it had entered the room, the clone spoke. Its voice sounded small, shaky, yet firm. Obviously, it wanted something. "I just wanted to ask, sir - was I good, sir?"
Ah. That was what it wanted - a pat on the head, a sliver of commendation, a "well done". Krell huffed. This certainly was a first - usually, after he'd had a clone, it would slink from his quarters crying and limping to then avoid him forever afterwards.
Not this one, though. Krell hadn't been expecting to be surprised today, so for that alone, the clone deserved at least a small reward.
"Yes," he rumbled as he reached out and cupped the side of the clone's head - not tight enough to bruise, but tight enough to make clear that he could shatter it like a ripe egg if he was in the mood for it. "You were good. I might even call on you to serve me again if you continue to be good, soldier."
The clone bit its lip and released something that sounded suspiciously like a relieved sigh. Then, it lowered its eyes to look at the floor, suddenly shy, and muttered, "Thank you, sir. I will take my leave now, as you suggested."
Krell let his hand fall onto the chair's armrest and watched as the clone bent low, gathered its belongings, and finally limped out the door.
A glimpse of his own come painting its thighs was the last thing he saw of it before the door slid closed. Something warm, delectable spread through Krell's insides. He remembered how small the clone had felt in his grip, how vulnerable, and yet how easily it had given itself up to him, so unlike all its brethren…
The promise Krell had given to the clone had been meant to be nothing but empty words, but now, he had half a mind to keep it. Maybe, after he got Dooku's attention and was summoned to join his new master, he could take a souvenir with him - one he’d had enough time to train so it would continue to serve him very, very well.