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you’ve lost track of time.
which is something that you already get used to. or so you think. this ship has become your home long ago. you’ve spent most of your time here than outside. meditating, improving your skills, making sure that you are ready and better than before as you landed on another foreign planet.
this time, however, is different.
“look at me.” a rough voice whispering into your ear brought you back to reality.
you could barely look at yourself in the mirror. qimir got you on this lap with your legs spread out wide, naked and drenched in sweat. your back is plastered to his bare chest, with his knuckles deep inside your soaking cunt. your chest is pounding, out of breath. he’s panting too, blowing hot breath near your ear. when his eyes meet yours in the mirror, your knees are weak again at the sight of his dark gaze behind the wet strands of his hair. and you probably would have fallen off the bed, if it wasn’t for his strong arm holding you by your stomach, locking your bodies together.
“come on, give me another.”
that is an order, not a request.
“i can’t—” you choke out. “i can’t, please.”
“i’m not asking.” he curls his fingers inside you, making you gasp. you squeeze his thigh, your nails digging half-crescent shapes into his skin until it draws blood. he hisses.
“i can’t…. qimir, please.” you beg him again for mercy. he already made you come more than you could remember. and there’s no signs of him stopping anytime soon.
you are not sure if you’re excited for what’s more to come or terrified.
“should have thought twice before bratting out on me, huh?” he mocks you, pulling a smirk.
he’s right. you brought this upon yourself anyway. you are not sure what you were even thinking. you thought you were making the right decision by going against him after watching the massacre that he committed against the jedis back on khofar. but no. you forgot who he is, and what he’s capable of. khofar was a reminder, a lesson, a punishment. and so is this. you’re way too deep into this. there is no escaping him. ever.
and honestly you’re not sure if you even want to.
his hand on your stomach moves to grip your chin again. your eyes meet his again in the mirror, and your hips tremble at the intensity of his gaze. pupils blown wide, his cock is rock-hard under you, still slick and wet with your saliva after he fucked your throat earlier. deep down, you’re happy that he desires you as much as you want him.
“see how you’re soaking my fingers, baby? remember how hard you came earlier? still wanna leave me when i’m the only one who could make you feel this good?” he says, taking on his usual low and calm tone but nobody would expect the absolute filth that leaves his lips. neither did you. sometimes you're so used to the innocent smuggler persona that he puts on in front of other people, that you forget what the real him really is like.
you prefer him like this. honest and unassuming. calm but dangerous. he knows exactly what he wants, and is determined to get it.
what you and he have was casual. you’re a force user, with a lightsaber that he gifted to you himself, helping him with his mission as a payback for everything he has done for you. but over time, the line is beginning to blur. you are not sure what to call this anymore.
and he’s right. he makes you feel safe and alive in his own weird and twisted way. and dirty, is what he has corrupted you into. ruinous. filthy. shameless. desperate for him.
remembering the nights you’ve spent together, naked bodies tangled up on his bed, his hands leaving trails of fire on your skin, hot mouth whispering dark promises of what he’s going to do to you those nights, his handprint leaving red marks on your ass, you could barely recognize yourself in those memories. you are a different person now, than the first time he meets you.
“i’m sorry.” was all you could say, finally.
“i don’t want your “sorry”. i want you to come for me again. that’s how you apologize to me.” he orders again as he pumps up his fingers, slowly. the sweet sound of your moans fill up the quarters and the way your legs are shaking are enough to make him add a third finger before picking up his pace.
his lips latch onto your neck, kissing and leaving trails of purple bruises on your skin, marking you as his, so that wherever you go, wherever you are, before you could even think about betraying him again, you'd be reminded that you are his, in every sense of word. he took you in when you had nothing and were all alone, inviting you to his ship, giving you a place to sleep, for a small price of helping him in his quest. he knew that you already belong to him, the moment he hears you moaning his name in the next room in the middle of the night while you were touching yourself. you’re his, the moment his lips connected to yours. you’re his, when he spanks you when you two got back to his ship earlier as a punishment for trying to betray him.
you’re still his, as he fucks his fingers inside you right now. you watch through the mirror how his long fingers almost disappear into your cunt. wet squelching sounds and skin against skin mixed with the melody of your ragged breath and moans, along with his dirty words and promises filling up the room, bringing you closer to the edge.
“i’m—”
“beg for it.” he cuts you off, knowing well you’re almost there. he uses the force to stimulate your clit, adding more pleasure but not enough to push you over.
“beg for it. tell me you’ve learnt your lesson.”
you nod quickly. “i did. i— i shouldn’t have betrayed you. i’m sorry. please let me come again. i need it.”
a deep chuckle escapes from his throat, probably finding your desperation amusing. you don’t blame him. you hate how pathetic you become whenever he’s got himself inside you anyway, but it’s always so worth it. he loves it when you’re like this anyway, and you love that he loves it.
“where are your manners, sweetheart?”
you swallow, knowing what he means.
“please, master.”
the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly, because that’s what you’ve always been calling him in your everyday life before all of…. this. you are not even sure how it found its way to your intimate times probably because you are not used to calling qimir anything other than master. but of course, he loves it. and now whenever you call him with that title during the day, you will always find yourself subconsciously rubbing your thighs together, remembering the nights like these, where he had you completely at his mercy.
“please, master, what? tell me what you want.”
“i want to come, master, please”.
“good girl. good fucking girl.” he coos. “you’re so good only when you want something from me, aren’t you?” he calls you out, and all you could do is whine in return. it’s embarrassing, how he can read you like an open book. but then again of course, he’s right.
“come for me, sweetheart. soaked my fucking fingers.” he commands as he slams his three fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot each time while the invisible stimulation on your clit increases.
you don’t need to be told twice. your body shakes violently, already screaming his name as you come on his hand. he kisses your neck, whispering praises and encouragement into your ear.
“come here.” he suddenly grabs the back your head, yanking your head upward so you’re staring up at him. he brings his fingers that are drenched with your come to your lips.
“taste yourself.”
again, you obey quickly. you open your mouth, and his thrust his fingers inside. you swirl your tongue, tasting yourself on his digit, licking them clean, all while keeping eye contact with him. then, feeling a little brave, your cheeks hollow out as you suck on his fingers. qimir’s eyes darken, a low groan escapes his throat at the sight of your eagerness.
“such a dirty little slut. you fucking love this, don’t you?” he says before pulling his fingers from your mouth, creating a loud pop sound.
“come here. i’m not done with you yet.” he says, pushing you back on his bed, spreading your legs wide as he positions himself in between them.