Chapter Text
You sighed and opened your eyes. The bed on which you sat cross-legged was wide and luxurious, as was the room, filled with marble tiles and sweeping gold curtains, many of which were framed around the four-poster bed.
It was more luxurious than you were used to, but it was discreet, and the hotel management had offered a discount. They seemed to be under the belief that a Jedi staying at their hotel was good for business, unofficial security in case anything went awry.
A small smile twitched your lips. Little did they know, where Jedi went, trouble inevitably followed. But at least they didn’t ask questions about why you needed to stay the night in the middle of Coruscant, not far from the Temple, and under an assumed name.
You reached for your comm on the nightstand and checked the chrono. Less than two hours before the… before your expected party arrived. You were too early, and the meditation you’d hoped to achieve before his arrival was a poor distraction for your nerves.
You’d fought entire armies of battle droids, even fought against Ventress once. And yet, the idea of having sex for the first time had you nearly running out the door.
It will be fine, you told yourself. Beings all over the galaxy have sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s an experience like any other.
And once it was over, you could finally return to your duties and stop this distracting fixation you couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how many times you meditated.
It’ll probably be mundane. Overexaggerated. Pleasant, but ultimately, forgettable.
A jamb rattled, but it wasn’t the front door. The quiet sound came from the balcony.
You remained still, head tilted as you focused on the being who had managed to sneak up to your balcony without detection. That wasn’t the most shocking part. The balcony was at least three hundred meters from the streets below, which no stairs or ladders could reach.
The balcony door swung open, and an imposing figure stood against the background of sparkling skyscrapers and starlight. A long coat, a wide brimmed hat, oxygen tubes, and the glint of pistols at his hips.
He strode into the room, his red eyes surveying the dim light. You’d forgotten to turn them back on after meditation.
You appraised him, curiosity overriding your nerves. He was a Duros, tall and lanky and scuffed at the edges. Was he supposed to look like that one bounty hunter? Something… Bane. Cad Bane. Yes, that was it.
The costume was immaculate from what you could tell, but you hadn’t purchased the roleplay package, simply going with the most basic option. Perhaps the service wanted your repeat business, but you didn’t plan to do this more than once.
“Cad Bane” looked you up and down, his attention lingering on your robes marking you as Jedi. You had placed your lightsaber in one of the drawers, not wanting to make the companion nervous at the sight of the weapon, but this one seemed anything but nervous. From his confident bearing to his excellent disguise, there was no doubting he was a professional.
That same stare followed you as you uncurled your legs and moved to the edge of the bed. You pulled off your boots and then stood, removing your heavy brown cloak. His eyes stayed on your hands and your face, and he never once blinked.
“You’re early,” you said, and that seemed to break him from his staring.
Surprisingly, he reached up and pinched the brim of his hat, tipping it toward you.
“I’m never late for a payday. And ye owe my client a lotta credits.”
His accent was rough, as rough as the man, and you guessed it was similar to what the real Cad Bane sounded like. Perhaps it was practice, or he might even be using a voice modulator.
You were still distracted by the voice when he moved again, and at first you thought he was going to the case on the nearby polished wood table. You’d paid half upfront, and the companion was expected to take the remainder with him once his job was done, but he ignored the case. Instead, he slowly circled you, those red eyes watchful.
“Weren’t expectin’ no Jedi to hand over the payment. We doin’ this or not?”
Well, apparently he wanted his payment up front too, or maybe it was part of the act. You went along with it, walked to the table and picked up the case.
“Right here.” You opened it and turned to show him the ingots inside, and immediately his weathered face creased into a scowl.
“You tryin’ to cheat me, or are Jedi too pious to count? Ye owe me a million credits, not a thousand.”
So, this was part of the roleplay scene. It made sense now, why they would pick someone so intimidating for a Jedi client. You could easily imagine living out a scene like this, trying to pay a local bounty hunter for intel with said bounty hunter trying to talk up the payment. A little thrill of excitement went up your spine, because you knew what came next in this hypothetical scenario.
The negotiation.
You closed the case, unbothered as you placed it behind you on the table, leaning your hips back against its edge as you crossed your arms.
“Perhaps there’s a way I can make up the difference. I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. Don’t you?”
He just… stared. And stared. And then a smile crept on his face, mean and sharp.
“Unless ye got a crateful of ingots hidden in those robes, then no, ye can’t make up the difference, Master Jedi.”
He growled out the title as if it was filth in his mouth. Distain, animosity, a clear dislike of who and what you were, but his eyes… there was something in them. Curiosity.
It was the only assurance you had that this was just an act, because his tone and demeanor radiated hostility. He was almost too good at his role.
He didn’t move at your approach, and he didn’t blink when you ran a finger up the inner edge of his duster.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
He didn’t answer this time, his unnerving eyes simply watching. And it was unnerving. Facing down a battalion of droidekas was less intimidating than being under that baleful gaze. Where did they find this man? He could take up the mantle of bounty hunter instead of companion, and you wouldn’t have known the difference.
Careful not to dislodge the air tank on his back connected to the oxygen tubes, you tugged at his duster, trying to slide it over his shoulders. But it was firmly attached to the tank, so you moved on to his vest, beginning to undo the latch at his throat when he grabbed both your wrists, his hold as tight as iron.
You looked up at him, uncertainty poking at your mind. You couldn’t get a read on him, his mental shields unusually strong, the strongest you’d sensed from a non-Force user.
You quietly said, “Or we can stop here. No reason to continue if both of us aren’t comfortable, right?”
He tilted his head as he considered you. And then he backed you into one of the posts of the canopy bed, the strength from his thin frame deceiving. Your back pressed to the wood, he released one of your wrists and took your chin in his long fingers, his eyes half-lidded, like a nexu comfortable and assured it was the biggest predator in the room.
“Lemme think about it.”
You relaxed. It was still part of the game; you hadn’t yet crossed any unspoken rules or boundaries. You opened your mouth to offer your relieved agreement but never got the chance. With the point of his finger, he tilted your chin upward, and pressed his lips against yours.
You froze, every thought ground to a halt. Even your muscles went rigid, your breath caught in your throat. And then you nearly startled when his tongue licked across the seam of your lips before sliding into your mouth.
The companion was… surprisingly gentle. You expected him to continue the rough, hardened bounty hunter act, but his hand moved into your hair, holding the back of your head, and you simply melted. There was no other word for it.
When he parted from your mouth too soon, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling strangely warm and intoxicated. Is this why so many species touched their mouths together? You’d hadn’t understood why, had thought it couldn’t be more special than any other kind of touch. You had severely underestimated the effects of kissing.
“Word of advice,” he said, his lips tantalizingly close, his breath warm over your skin. “If yer gonna seduce someone, use what’s suited to yer skillset. The aggressive approach wasn’t workin’ for ya.”
“No?”
Your response was muddled and slow, the pleasant sensation still heavy on your body, as if he’d poisoned you through his lips.
“No. Yer sweet. That’s yer angle.”
He leaned in, this time sucking on your lower lip before running his tongue across it, the touch sending sparks through your body.
“Ye taste sweet, too.”
You tried to close the distance and felt a brief pressure on your lips before he pulled away, chuckling at your impatience. His mouth glided down your jaw and neck, and you felt a hint of those sharp teeth you’d glimpsed, and something electric and hot crackled through your abdomen.
You gripped his coat to steady yourself, the press of your bodies unintentional. The companion let out a low growl, his hands at your hips in a bruising grip.
“Get outta those robes. Now.”
You almost sighed in relief, both at the fact this was finally happening, and at being given direction. You were in unfamiliar territory and wanted him to take the lead, trusting him to guide you.
Despite being the one to tell you to get undressed, his dexterous fingers found the latches and clips holding your robes and tabards together, and you were impressed how easily he did it. Jedi garments weren’t the easiest to disrobe in a hurry, but you supposed he must have experience with undressing all sorts of species and outfits.
It was only after the robes and tabards were piled on the floor that he stepped back, his eyes appraising the only pieces you had left: a matching pair of lacy black underwear and bralette, the latter designed to cup and push up your breasts.
“So, that’s what Jedi wear under those robes,” he mused, his eyes narrowed and his mouth curled in wry humor.
Your skin heated. No, this definitely wasn’t what a Jedi wore under their robes, usually opting for body gloves or skintight underclothes. But you decided that wouldn’t be appropriate for a night with a brothel worker, and had bought the lingerie pieces yourself. You’d never owned anything so delicate and sensual, and with those eyes hungrily tracing your skin, you knew the purchase had been worth it.
“Go on.” He leaned back against the table with its case of ingots, taking a toothpick out of a pack on his belt and fixing it to his mouth. With his other hand, he pulled first one, then both of his pistols from their holsters, placing them on the table behind him. At your curious look at the removal of his props, he added with a smirk, “Don’t take my blasters to bed unless I plan on usin’ ‘em. And you’re gonna be sweet for me, won’t you, darlin’?”
You were unable to meet his gaze while he spoke to you in that purring tone, not when you were so bare before him, and you nodded your head. You reached behind you and fumbled with the latch to your bra, and when it stayed firmly in place, you flicked it open without touching it. At least your grasp on the Force was still strong, because your body was its own willful thing, a tremble moving up your legs and spine.
You were doing this. You were actually doing this. You were going to have sex, with a complete stranger, someone whose name you didn’t even know. You were going to—
Once you dropped your bra to the floor, your fingers were trembling too hard for you to properly grab the waistband of your panties. But then another pair of hands covered yours, fingers long and delicate and assured.
“Ye got the stink of fear all over ya,” his low voice dipped in your ear. “Finally decided to come to yer senses?”
You shook your head, no longer in the mood for games and playing pretend.
“That’s not it. I… I’ve never… This is my first…”
You couldn’t finish, shame closing your throat. You’d told yourself you wouldn’t feel ashamed, that there was nothing wrong about what you were doing.
“Yer first…?”
“Time.”
He went silent for so long that you looked up, a mistake as he stood too close, his hands still covering your hips.
“Yer a virgin.”
“Yes.”
Were you supposed to tell the brothel beforehand? No, no, of course you were supposed to tell them. They’d made you fill out an extensive questionnaire on your preferences and tastes (most of which you’d answered “unknown”), so it only made sense they would want to know if this was your first sexual encounter.
Swallowing your pride, an apology written all over your face, you said, “I’m sorry. We can stop here, call the whole thing off if you want—”
He picked you up by the back of your thighs, hooked your legs around his waist, and swiftly lowered you into the middle of the bed in a movement so smooth it took away your breath. His mouth claimed yours, rough and fast, the words slipping out in a rough growl.
“Yer outta yer mind if ye think I don’t want ye just like this.”
He sounded like he meant it, like he didn’t have a different client every night, servicing them just like he was about to service you. As if you were actually something special, something unique, and he was loathe to part with it.
“Okay,” you gasped when he moved his mouth from your lips down to your throat. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’ll… I’ll do it. I want it.”
“Want what.”
You could feel the smile against your throat, his hands moving down to your hips where only a thin black piece of cloth separated you. Well, that and his layers of armorweave and leather. You tugged at his vest zipper again, but that only made him grab your wrists to trap them between your chests.
“Never knew you lot to be tongue-tied.” He slipped his hand down the curve of your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping past the waistband of your underwear to tease just above your sex. “Fact, this might be the first time I’ve met a bashful Jedi.”
You growled in your throat, frustrated and uncomfortable from the now soaked piece of cloth sticking to your skin.
“And I’ve never met a bounty hunter that likes to play instead of finishing the job.”
“Haven’t met many bounty hunters, have ye?”
You let out another frustrated noise, and he smiled. Actually smiled. It was a strange thing to see on such a rough face, but it lifted away the harsh edges and the years from his features. It also made you wonder how old he was. Certainly on the older side, which was a surprise, as you’d expected someone young and supple. You actually found you preferred this more.
“I’ve met a few. Just… not like this.”
“I’ll bet.”
Again, his smile reminded you of a self-satisfied tooka, but when the curve of those fangs revealed themselves, a strange flush warmed your belly. Tired of the teasing, you pried your trapped hands out from between your chests and cupped his face in your palms.
His eyes widened in surprise, and for a second, you wondered what the point of that was. The game was over, wasn’t it? You were going to have sex, he would take his money, and then it would be done. What was the point of pretending now?
And then you decided, you didn’t care. You kissed him hard, careful with your hands with the body glove and oxygen tubing in the way, but careless with your mouth, your lips demanding and almost angry.
You wanted something real. And if you couldn’t have that, you’d at least make it memorable.
His response was immediate and absolute; the companion ripped off the remaining piece of lingerie, tore them clean off, and pressed his hips hard to yours. You groaned into his mouth, something hard and warm trapped underneath the layers of his clothing. It might be pretend, but at least the reaction you could elicit from his body was real.
You expected him to immediately move to the main act, but instead, his fingers slipped further down, lightly toying with your labia and clit, as if gently stroking an animal.
You broke the kiss to arch your back, and he took advantage of your exposed neck, nipping the skin as he found your opening and carefully pressed against it.
“You’re going to… get your gloves wet,” you stammered, your voice odd and breathy. You remembered the fingerless gloves, and you didn’t know why the thought of them being ruined concerned you. Your brain was an amorphous mess of unconnected thoughts and babbling words, as if his hands on your body had managed to short circuit the synapses in your brain.
“Don’t care,” he mumbled into your skin, and as if to prove it, he pushed the long pad of his finger into your entrance.
You shuddered so hard it was almost a jerk, and he gently hushed you, petting your hip with his other hand as if calming a spooked fathier.
“Relax. I got ya.”
His finger pushed further inside, stopping where the edge of the glove began, and crooked his finger. The pad of his finger stroked something previously unknown to you, and you bucked your hips against his hand, a strangled gasp in your throat.
He chuckled and continued the stroking motion. But it was his thumb pressing against your clit that had your eyes close and your toes curl. It was already more pleasure than you’d ever experienced, it was hard to imagine there could possibly be more.
But there was, building deep in your gut as he moved his fingers in tandem, stroking and rubbing and plying you open until you were mindless with sensation.
And then he removed his fingers, and it all stopped. You panted, stunned, your sex throbbing with the sudden aching emptiness. But he drew up his fingers, and you saw how slicked they were before he slid one into his mouth.
He hummed in apparent pleasure at the taste, and you were suddenly jealous of those fingers and the attention they were getting. You took his thumb, the one that was still wet from the slickness of your clit, and ran your tongue along it, tasting yourself on his skin.
His eyes blazed with something that was almost frightening, and then he jerked out of your grip, his hand disappearing as you heard the sound of a zipper being pulled.
Something hot and surprisingly wet slid between her legs and over your abdomen, and your eyes went wide at the realization of what it was. And that it was far, far too large.
But despite the heat in his eyes and the frustration that leaked through his mental shields, he was careful, rubbing the length of his strangely shaped cock against your labia.
And then he pushed both your legs up until they hooked around his shoulders, opening you up and spreading you wide for him, and the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance.
You were soaking wet, aching and nearly in tears from your own desperate frustration, wanting something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, and you said, “I can endure the pain.”
Some of the lust-filled haze cleared from his eyes, and there seemed to be something else there. A wistfulness you didn’t understand.
“I know.”
And then he pushed, and you wondered if you’d spoken too soon. His cock, tapered at the edge but textured strangely along the shaft, stretched you open far past the point of pain. But you endured it, having endured far worse, until he was fully sheathed inside you, his hips flat against yours.
The pain throbbed in time with your heartbeat, but your face stayed expressionless, and you kept your breathing as steady as you could. And you were glad you did; the companion searched your face as if trying to find something, his own sabacc-face very good, and only the faint strain you sensed past his shields and the tautness of his body told you that he was fighting off his pleasure to remain as still as possible.
Finally, he let out a huff of air, a faint shadow of a smirk on his lips.
“Jedi,” was all he said. And then he kissed you, demanding and distracting, the pain between your legs fading into a dull throb, and then blossoming into a warm ache.
He knew you were ready when you moved your hips against his, clumsy and inexperienced, and he gripped your hip tight to keep you still. At your frustrated noise, he simply grinned, pulled out no more than an inch, and thrust back into you.
Stars and galaxies danced before your eyes, and you were gone, lost as he continued to thrust and rock into your body. You understood the point of this now, why people sought this out since the beginning of time. The thrum of your skin vibrating with pleasure and ecstasy was new, but the sensation of being outside yourself, losing yourself to something more, was not. It was as close to feeling one with the Force as possible without actually dying and crossing to the other side.
And when your peak crested and broke, you cried out, holding onto your companion and giving yourself over to him, wishing you knew his name to call him by it.
Neither did he call you by yours, which you were glad for as he only knew the fictitious version, and instead he lowered his lips to the muscle between your neck and shoulder, and bit down hard. You cried out again, in another orgasm or the same one that never seemed to end, and his cock inside you seemed to thicken.
With a curse, he pulled out at the last moment, his length hard and throbbing as he spilled onto your stomach, the fluid surprisingly cool instead of the warmth you expected. It was a soothing balm against your heated skin.
Your body sluggish and tingling, something like affection bubbled up inside you, and you lifted your head and pressed your lips to his. It was his job, you understood that, but he was still a living being, connected in the Force as you were. Which meant you weren’t strangers, not really, and you were grateful for the experience you’d shared.
And just like that, whatever cracks that had appeared in his mental shield slammed shut, his expression closed off as he broke the kiss. He moved your legs off his shoulders, his actions not unkind but absent of their previous sensuality.
Right, you thought. Business concluded.
The sudden raw, stinging pain in your chest rose without warning, and you ignored it and turned onto your side. You’d paid for the full night, you were damn well going to use it.
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya.”
“Likewise,” you said evenly, as if the pleasure you’d felt a moment ago hadn’t been entirely mind-altering. As if the experience itself hadn’t shifted your entire perspective permanently.
He didn’t leave immediately, and you sensed his attention on your body, but with how tightly his shields held, you couldn’t tell if it was curiosity, or lust, or pity. Most likely, the latter.
And then he was gone, out the way he’d come through the balcony door, the faint hiss of the rockets on his boots propelling him away from the landing. You didn’t know why he didn’t use the door now that he no longer had to pretend.
You curled up, the afterglow fading into a vague cold emptiness you didn’t understand. The aftereffects of the chemicals flooding your system, probably. You would feel better after a shower.
You startled awake at the series of knocks on your door. Rushing out of bed, you winced at the dried mess on your pelvis, having dozed off before you had that shower. Pulling on your brown cloak and wrapping it tight around your naked body, you didn’t sense much time had passed since you fell asleep.
Opening the door, you blinked and shielded your eyes from the sudden change in light. When your eyes adjusted, you found a blue Twi’lek standing next to a white-gold protocol droid in the hallway.
“Master Jedi?” the droid asked.
“Yes?” Your skin heated at the idea someone had complained about the noise, but it was the Twi’lek who spoke next.
“Forgive the intrusion.” He paused, taking in your ruffled appearance with an arched, painted brow. And then his gaze settled on your neck, specifically a point that ached but you couldn’t immediately recall why. “I’m your companion for the evening. But… if you wish to reschedule our appointment—”
You blinked, and only then did you take in his appearance. Delicate gold circlets spaced along his lekku, his outfit tailored to fit his appealing, muscled frame, his arms bare and featuring similar circlets to the ones on his head.
“I’m sorry?” Your voice was faint, your brain only static. “You’re… you’re my companion?”
The Twi’lek and droid exchange a questioning glance before he answered.
“I am. Is something amiss?”
Yes. Yes, something was very amiss.
“No, not at all. I, uh… will no longer require your services for the evening. I apologize, and I will, ah, compensate you for the inconvenience. You can keep the deposit, too, of course.”
The Twi’lek still looked confused, even a little alarmed, especially as his gaze kept roaming to the spot on your neck, but the protocol droid replied with its programmed perkiness.
“Very good, madam. We are grateful for your patronage, and please remember to leave a positive review—”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to do that, thank you, goodbye.”
You shut the door in their surprised faces and braced against its surface as you tried to swallow your panic. And then remembering the Twi’lek’s stare, you darted to the bathroom.
The lights blinded you when you switched them on, but you ignored the discomfort and stared at your reflection in frozen horror. Dried blood had trickled down from the twin puncture wounds between your shoulder and neck. Right where your companion had bitten you.
No. Not your companion.
Your trained grace and balance abandoning you, you stumbled to the table where the case of ingots still sat. You opened it, blinking in confusion, not one of them missing.
Across their surface rested a note written in scratchy, scrawling ink.
It’s on the house.