Took You Long Enough: Kit Fisto x Reader

                                    

                                          
A/N: sort of requested by blondebucky - also, reader is a Nautolan too so can understand Kit's special pheromone tendril language
Warnings: kit fisto's abs, swearing, kissing, water and swimming,
Word count: 1262
You jump at the knock on your door. Kit, no doubt. You can sense the excitement he's emmitting, the eager joy unique to your fellow Nautolan when the two of you are about to go for a swim. It's not often that both of you are on Coruscant at the same time, and you'll take any chance you can get to spend a few moments with each other. To be honest, you wouldn't be surprised if he's jumping up and down outside your door, in nothing but his swimming trunks, scandalising anyone passing by. Your cheeks warm - you're used to Kit's toned body by now, but your want for him comes paired with a deeper feeling, an emotion forbidden to Jedi like you.
Grabbing your towel, you bound through the doorway and find yourself dazzled by Kit's smile, his large eyes shimmering with sheer enthusiasm as he presents you with his signature grin. He leans against the wall, hands jauntily on his hips, in his swimming trunks, a robe haphazardly pulled over. The brown fabric is not quite closed, and the narrow parting at the front reveals a sliver of smooth green skin which your eyes slip far too easily over.
'Took you long enough, sweet,' he teases, and you smack his shoulder.
'I take as long as I want, Fisto.'
He laughs. 'Well, let's make you hurry. Last one in the pool is bantha fodder.'
He sprints off in a flash of brown robes, his green tendrils flying out behing him. Muttering a very not Jedi - ish curse under your breath, you sprint after Kit, hoping no senators lurk in the corridors to catch sight of two Nautolans in swimming wear racing through the hallways. Or worse, Master Windu. You're pretty sure he wouldn't approve of two high ranking Jedi careering around like younglings.
Skidding around a corner, you catch sight of the longest of Kit's tendrils just disappearing down the corridor. Maker, either he's gotten faster since you last raced, or you're getting slower. Determined to catch up, you put on a burst of speed and run after him, dodging past a droid and darting left, smiling to yourself as you tumble down an old set of stairs.
It's your secret shortcut - one you found quite recently, when a youngling knocked your lightsaber from your belt. You'd accidentally activated an old door and found the stairwell, a direct passage to what must have been some old chamber but is now you and Kit's playground - a massive room taken up with one thing and one thing only - a pool.
Shooting through another doorway, you shuck off your outer robes as you run, picking up speed across the tiled floor until you launch yourself into the air with a whoop. You land neatly in the water with barely a splash, bubbles rising around you in silver spheres as your gills open. Taking a moment underwater, you allow yourself to sink to the bottom, dragging your fingers along the bottom of the pool, letting the water muffle all the sounds above, letting it calm you and clear your mind.
With strong, practiced strokes, you swim back to the surface, shaking out your tendrils in a spray of glimmering droplets as you surface. Glancing around, you see that Kit hasn't arrived yet, and with a smirk, you drop below again, emptying your lungs of air so you sink like a stone. Once you hit the bottom, you cross your legs and sit there, on the pool floor, just waiting.
Barely moments later, you hear a muted splash and Kit appears just in front of you. His tendrils stream behind him, and the shock on his face is mirrored by the surprise in his pheromones at you presence. Devilishly, you grin, tilting your head and wagging a finger at him.
'Took you long enough, Fisto,' you say, throwing his words back at him.
He huffs, swimming over to you. 'Teach me your secrets, sweet. How'd you slip past me?'
You laugh. 'That's for me to know, and you to not find out.'
Getting your feet under you, you push them against the pool floor and shoot towards the surface, Kit not far behind. His head bursts up right next to yours, and you grin over at him, eyes dancing as he flicks water at you. He looks beautiful on land, but here, in his element, he's fucking stunning. Water traces down his ridges of muscle, dripping down his tendrils and slipping over his skin. A droplet lands in the space between his collar bones, and you have to clamp down hard on your pheromones before he senses how much you want to just dip your head and lick it off, to taste the sweet salt of his skin and hear his deep laugh.
'You still in there?'
Your head snaps up. 'Why would I not be, Kit?'
He narrows his eyes. 'What were you thinking about, sweet?'
'Nothing,' you say - too quickly.
'Mhmm,' he hums, but seems to let it go.
Dipping below your eye line, he disappears, and you feel the slight change in water current as he swims somewhere below you, before a strong hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you down. You laugh, hooking your leg around his neck, so his head rests in the crook of your knee. Spiralling down under the surface, you glance down and catch his eyes.
He looks up at you, and the expression on his face makes your heart ache. It's the awed gaze of a padawan to their master, yet also the wise gaze of a master to their padawan. It's sweet, sweet adoration, and yet beneath it, there's something deeper, something firey, something burning, his chin resting against your skin, his tendrils floating around him like a halo, his lips still upturned in the traces of a smile. He's glorious.
If you were breathing air, you'd have choked. You've never caught him looking at you like that, never seen such pure emotion in his eyes. The galaxy seems to have stopped, seems to have fallen away around you, so it's only you and Kit, the water bridging the gap between you, joining you, surrounding you. Trance like, eyes locked on his, you reach down, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone with your fingertips. Your pinky finger accidentally brushes one of his tendrils, and -
And suddenly all of the feelings he's emmitting subconsciously register in your brain, and the two of you crash into each other, hands roaming over warm skin as your limbs tangle, your bodies pressing together as if they were never separate. His lips taste like home, like the comforting gloom of the sea floor and the gentle press of water against your skin, like silver bubbles and luminescent waves.
There's only a few things that you can fathom right now: he loves you, he wants you, and you love him and want him too.
It's those things that stay in your mind. Not the infernal Jedi Code, not the war, not the Jedi Council, not the Republic, not the Senate, not the Separatists, not even the Sith - no, just Kit, just Kit and his hot mouth and his wandering hands as he kisses you, seven feet underwater.
And then he pulls back, the corners of his glorious mouth pulling into a grin as your hand trails down his abdomen and over the ridges of muscle, pausing when your fingertips to catch in his waistband. His obsidian eyes dance, a whirlpool of passion.
'Took us long enough, didn't it, sweet?'