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dustysalmon · 8 days

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Show Me Yours And I'll Show You Mine - Asajj Ventress x Crosshair (Part 2)

AN: For the sake of not having our two protagonists perform public/voyeuristic sex, we’re all going to imagine that the clones were given cozy individual homes on Pabu, and are not all living aboard the same spaceship. Thank you for your understanding!

CW: smut; dom/sub dynamics, angst

Word count: 2.5k ⎮ Read on ao3 ⎮ Part 1

"Love what you’ve done with the place." Ventress says as she scans the area. It is mostly grey, and empty. She can’t muster any other word to better describe the place. Empty shelves, empty closets by the looks of it, blinds shut close. There might have been no one living there, there would be no difference. Crosshair is a soldier, after all; more than that, he’s a clone. Theoretically, they have no use for personal items, family pictures and the likes, although Ventress knows a few specimens who would beg to differ. But probably not Crosshair.

"Have you come here just to taunt me some more?" Ventress’ eyes roll to the back of her head in mild annoyance.

"Quit your whining and sit," she motions to the couch, "I’ll check on you." Crosshair’s eyebrows shoot up briefly.

"I said I was fine."

"Yes, and we’ve established that you’re a terrible liar. Now go on." He is ready to argue some more, but she offers him the same death stare she threw him earlier, just seconds before having him fall on his backside, and he has no desire for a repeat performance.

"Good boy."

Crosshair is very thankful for the small amount of light that the closed blinds allow in, because he can feel a hot blush running all the way from his cheeks to his neck. Miraculously, it appears Ventress hasn’t noticed. Kriffing hells, when did he ever let anyone under his skin like that. Dragging his feet, he walks to the couch. And waits. The irritation on her face brings him an inexplicable amount of joy, and a small smirk pulls lightly at his lips. It’s not often he gets to have the upper hand with this one, he will enjoy life’s little pleasures for as long as he can. Eventually, recognising that the enjoyment might hold up to getting his shit rocked for a third time, he lifts up his shirt. Ventress is so surprised that the man is actually capable of pulling a smile that she doesn’t even seem bothered by the whole thing. She simply takes a seat next to him on the couch.

"You froze."

"Excuse me?" He stops his movements, knowing precisely what she is referring to.

"While we were fighting. You had a clear opening," she says matter of factly, "and then you froze." There’s an indescribable expression painting his face, along with a certain darkness, as if he shut down completely. Suddenly he is very conscious of his unstable hand holding his shirt. If it wasn’t currently gripping the fabric so tight, he knows it would waver.

"I don’t want to talk about it." He says in a low tone. Now, Ventress might be a big tease when she wants to, but she also knows how to read the room. She nods and focuses back on the newly revealed expanse skin.

The scars on his body are not shocking to her, she has seen her fair share of violence and knows what war does to someone, both physically and mentally. It is more the amount and nature of his scars that baffle her. A lot of them are clearly from old battles, some blasters burns, a few cuts here and there, white criss crosses on his darker skin. Clearly the man has deviated from his initial sharp shooting duties more than once. Ventress can see the bruises of her own making, those will go away in a few days. A particular scar catches her attention. It’s not a wound one earns on the battlefield, that much is clear. This one is clean, surgical even, as if— yes, he was deliberately sliced open. Mechanically, Ventress lifts up the shirt to his upper torso, to reveal the gash in its entirety, running from navel to collarbone. She traces along the abused skin with one delicate finger, and feels him tremble under her touch. Ventress has heard all about the Empire test subjects, the pseudo scientific experiment on aliens, humans, she can only imagine what is done to very expendable clones. She looks up to find his light brown eyes already fixed on her, silently begging her not to ask.

It has been years since Crosshair has been touched, well, touched that way at least, with care, and no desire to harm. Quite different from the Empire’s claws digging into him the past few weeks, and throughout his life-time really. Property since before he was even created, thrown from one battle to another as a soldier, then from one cell to an operating chamber, and back to another cell after having been declared a traitor to the Empire.

It’s funny, he doesn’t recall having any particular reaction to Ventress grabbing at him and very much touching him earlier. This is oh so deliciously foreign, it burns him, and he wants more. He wants her to make it all go away, the pain, the memories of his cold and dark room back on Tantiss. He wants the warmth of her presence surrounding him, cradling him to sleep like a little boy. He must not get used to this, he knows that, but blast it, she is making it damn difficult. It’s not simply her touch, though, she is doing something with her hands, with her mind, he realises as a wave of calm runs through him. He feels his entire body relax, his breathing slowing down. He couldn’t explain or describe it, the only thing he is certain of at the moment is that he doesn’t want it to go away.

Halas, nothing lasts forever, that is especially true of the good things, and Crosshair feels her hand slip away. Only for Ventress to reach up and cup his jaw affectionately. He leans into it so easily and instantly, like a well-domesticated loth cat. Without a word, Ventress glides her fingertips over his mouth, grazing the surface of his now half parted lips before slipping her thumb inside slowly. Their eyes meet as he sticks out his tongue, swirling it lasciviously around her digit and sucking it back into his mouth. They keep this little game up for a few minutes, her thrusting in and out, sometimes switching to her middle and pointer finger while telling him how much of a good boy he is; him taking it all, occasionally humming and moaning with his mouth full.

Ventress straddles him effortlessly, elegantly even, as she seems to do with everything else, pulling his shirt up and off in the same motion. She reaches unceremoniously into his pants and boxers to find his hardening cock, and he gasps as she closes her fist around the velvet and warm skin. In no time, he is melting in her hands, his breathing ragged and eyes shut close as he tries not to explode right here and there.

"Look at me." A simple command, softly spoken yet he cannot ignore it, not with her intense gaze pinning him down, holding him there. She starts grinding herself against him, because there is no world in which he gets to have all the fun— all the while unfastening her shoulder straps and pulling her shirt and brassiere over her head. Crosshair is utterly transfixed, he is no virgin but it has been a while, and the sight of her rocking against him causes his brain to nearly short-circuit. Soon, he feels her hands at the back of his head, pulling him in, and before he knows it, his lips are wrapped around her nipple, licking and sucking tenderly on the sensitive flesh. Finally something to distract him from the fact that he has never been this hard in his entire life, and that he was seconds away from finishing before having truly started anything. It’s her turn to moan, and he’s not one to brag but he enjoys small victories. Most of all, he enjoys the flurry of praises that escape her lips, affections are so foreign to him, so rare, he had forgotten what it feels like to be handled so delicately, to be touched that way, coaxed into pleasure.

He releases her nipple and looks up at her, awaiting for her queue as to what is next, and to his surprise, she grabs his face and kisses him. It is hungry, messy, and deliciously addictive, having her tongue clashing against his while she is clawing at his back. He had wondered about that, kissing her, wondered if it was out of bounds, too intimate, something exclusively reserved for long-time lovers. He doesn’t know much about romance but he can definitely see why people are so tipsy about those things. For the moment, he is just glad that she took the initiative, she has been so very good at that so far.

They are both breathless by the time they finally part, chest heaving and drops of sweat trickling slowly between their bodies.

"Bed?" Ventress presses, only mildly disappointed in her lack of self-control.

"Yes, ma’am." Crosshair breathes, placing his hands under her thighs and standing from the couch as Ventress secures her strong legs around his hips.

Somehow he’s the one ending up with his back on the mattress, in the meantime, Ventress has already ridded herself of the remaining of her clothes and makes quick work of his. There’s no warning, no preamble when she grips his cock and sinks down on it in a single motion, filling herself to the brim, and he can’t say he recognises the sound that emerges from deep within his chest, something between an ecstatic moan and an panicked howl. It has been a while indeed. It doesn’t help that Ventress sets a vicious rhythm, riding him like a race varactyl on Utapau. Multiple times over, Crosshair attempts to regain control, to set his own pace, but she is absolutely relentless, unyielding. He should have known.

She shoves him back onto the mattress at each of his attempts to straighten up, hands on his slick chest before finally pinning both his wrists on each side of his head while she keeps moving her hips back and forth at a nearly violent pace. He matches her thrust for thrust, jutting his pelvis up into her as deep as she will let him. Again, it’s a battle he will probably lose, but he is fine with that and decides to give it his all regardless. His resolve finally snaps when Ventress starts to clench around him, gripping his cock like a tight fist, and milking him from the inside. His orgasm overtakes him like a thunderstorm on Kamino, waves after waves of raw pleasure course through him. It is quite special sight, Ventress thinks, seeing this usually stoic clone utterly losing his composure, mumbling unintelligible curses while she is very much still fucking him through his climax to throw herself over the edge too. It doesn’t take long for her to collapse next to him, her chest heaving, and a satisfied smile on her face.

They lay side by side in the afterglow, Crosshair occasionally brushes a strand of her short hair away from her face, his fingertips lingering on her bone white skin. He is quite easy on the eyes, Ventress thinks, with his sharp cheekbones and features, his beautiful brown eyes, his rough exterior that she now knows conceals a vulnerable being, unique, and capable of so much more than what he was initially created for. She runs the back of her hand against the stubble on his cheeks, enjoying the little tingles it procures on her skin.

"Want me to get out of your hair?" Ventress asks, not particularly eager to retreat to her smaller, and rustic accommodation.

Crosshair works some saliva into his mouth, "You don’t have to go if you don’t want to," he says, lowering his eyes somewhere on the covers.

"I’m asking you. What do you want?" He knows exactly what she is trying to achieve here, if her wicked little smirk is any indication. All things considered, she has seen him come undone just a couple of minutes ago. Admitting that yes, actually, he enjoys the intimacy doesn’t make him weak, it makes him real. There’s no need to keep up appearances, not with her.

"I want…" Crosshair meets her eyes once more. "I wouldn’t mind if you stayed."

#the bad batch #asajj ventress #ct 9904 #crosshair #crosshair x ventress #star wars #tbb crosshair #tbb #tbb imagine #the bad batch imagine #fanfiction

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dustysalmon · 15 days

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Show Me Yours And I'll Show You Mine - Asajj Ventress x Crosshair (Part 1)

AN: Like many of you, the Harbinger episode gave me much to think about, and before I knew it, the Ventross ship was already sailing.

CW: None for this part, except for our two baddies having a bit of a rematch, and Ventress making Crosshair sweat a little bit. (They're just training, folks!... For now...)

Word count: 2.8k ⎮ Read on ao3 ⎮ Part 2

It is a beautiful day on Pabu, a sky so blue you can barely make out where it meets the see, not a single cloud on the horizon. A day like most days on the island, Ventress has come to notice, and the perfect opportunity for her to train and meditate on this quiet morning. Initially, the plan had been to find Omega, test her abilities and hop onto the next job. Business as usual. But a week had already gone by, and Ventress was in no hurry to set sail for another planet, and especially not to take another contract.

She picks a remote spot; her days of voluntary solitude as a Sith apprentice are far behind her, but she still enjoys the quiet. Perhaps now more than ever before. Calm is hard to come by in a life like hers, so she gives it her best effort to enjoy and cherish it whenever it comes her way. She sits with her legs crossed, eyes closed, her lightsaber placed carefully next to her. It’s a funny thing, how a mere object can bring such serenity and comfort to an individual. There is no qualms about the fact that she can survive well enough without it, but it’s part of her identity, a testament of her life’s work, of her successes, and her failures. They are indissociable.

Ventress shuts out the superfluous thoughts just like she knows how to, and turns her focus towards the life all around her. She aligns her breathing to the slow lulling of the waves against the shore, surrendering to its rhythm completely, until the rise and fall of her chest follows. Ever since her awareness of the Force, this has always been her favourite part, becoming the vessel of an entity much bigger than herself, and to let its essence flow within her. Letting go has always been difficult, after being controlled and manipulated from all ends, Ventress has had a compulsive need to control, both herself and others, more often than not. Here, it’s like standing on the edge of a precipice, unknown territory, until finally she reaches her goal. Complete serenity, a perfect sense of calm and control, over herself and the elements surrounding her. Balance. It has been a long journey, but she’s finally there.

This is not so bad, quiet meditation facing the sea on a day like this, she could get used to it. Ventress smiles dismissively at the idea. Have the years made her soft? Has spending time with Omega? She bats the thought away and recentralises her focus.

On occasion, a curious moon-yo comes to sniff around. They’re quite sociable creatures, although a little skittish. Ventress holds out her arm and the little green primate reaches with its hands to grab at it before climbing on her right shoulder. Friendlier creatures than the species found on Dathomir, that much is certain. She allows this little moment to gently pull out of her meditation. Time for some combat practice.

The yellow blade that gushes out of the lightsaber still feels foreign to Ventress, the confirmation of a new chapter in her life. She begins her usual routine, moving the weapon with fluid grace, form after form as the sun rises higher in the sky. Strike, parry, and repeat, all done with flawless precision and movements, the blade cutting through the air with a hum. Almost an hour passes before Ventress still herself, and takes a moment to really breathe, feeling the cool wind whisper through her short hair; and then resumes her training. For anyone watching, it looks like a dance, a very deadly dance, but not devoid of grace— some would even say beauty.

At least that is what Crosshair would say, as he quietly approaches Ventress’ space. He’s been watching her for a good two minutes now, and while he is no stranger to single combat, this is definitely not the clones’ preferred style. They were raised to operate as an army, units of thousands of clones, sent to the front lines to fall like pawns in a board game. There’s no beauty or grace in war, and right now, he feels the slightest amount of envy. What a privilege it is to look your opponent in the eye, to study them as they study you. No stray bullets, no booby traps or hidden mines. Only skill, observation, and sometimes respect, if you’re lucky.

Ventress is still facing away, to the sea. She knows he is here, standing a couple of feet away from her, and wonders if he knows, or simply doesn’t care that he is not as sneaky as he thinks he is. Let him have the benefit of the doubt, she smiles to herself. For several minutes, she gives no indication that she is aware of his presence, repeating the forms that have been drilled into her, first by Jedi Master Ky Narec, then by Count Dooku, with a little less patience and a decidedly more aggressive pedagogy, if you can call it that. She is a better fighter for it, there is no denying that, but the reminder of those years are still painful. Ventress has long accepted that this wound will never heal, and that she must move on, for her own sake.

Crosshair is still standing there watching, arms crossed, and clearly he doesn’t intend to make his presence known. Ventress quickly takes the hint. Those clones, utterly incapable of initiating anything without being told what to do. Ever the good little soldiers.

"Came here to learn a few things, clone?" She is well aware of how much they hate to be called that, and has no intention of letting him down easy; no particular reason. "Would you like me to slow down a little bit so you can keep up?"

"I don’t need to learn anything from you." Ventress throws him a quick questioning look before resuming her movements, which have become more and more complex since Crosshair arrived. All on purpose, of course.

"Seeing how our last encounter went, I’d beg to differ."

"You caught me on a bad day." He says with barely concealed bitterness. Also, he doesn’t believe a single word, but that’s an information he will keep to himself. Ventress scoffs.

"And I suppose your brothers too were having a bad day then?" She taunts between two sophisticated backflips. "Oh, let me guess, you are the best out of the three." The mockery in her tone stings this time, and it takes Crosshair a lot of effort not to show it. "Well that’s promising—"

"Has anybody ever told you that you talk too much?" He interrupts, chewing aggressively on his toothpick. She offers him the fakest of contemptuous smiles. "I’ve seen you fight now, I’ve seen your technique. You’re not infallible." Another summersault, and a fancy twirl in the air, for good measure. A reminder. See, this is what you’re up against, before Ventress finally puts all of her focus on the clone, walking slowly towards him. If he wants a challenge, he’s going to get one. Crosshair matches her step for step, a sense of boldness rising within him.

It’s a big mistake, and very petty on his part to even consider a rematch. She took on the three of them without so much as breaking a sweat just a couple days ago. He still has the marks to prove it, a couple of bruises here and there adorning his back and torso, and a nasty hit to his ego that’s not itching to go away. If he is being honest, she is the first opponent in a long time who has actually managed to physically hurt him in a straight fight. And as much as he loathes it, he can’t help but respect that. But clone’s pride being what it is…

"What’s the matter? Scared that I might get the better of you this time?" Thinking back, this is not even what he came here to do this morning. Truth be told, he doesn’t even know what brought him here. It’s like something pulled him in.

"Don’t make me laugh," Ventress scoffs, "you’ve read my file, clones are no match for me." A bit of a low blow, she realises as the words escape her mouth, but Crosshair doesn’t react to the cheap comment.

Crosshair tosses his toothpick aside. "I’m not like other clones."

They are facing each other now, just a few inches apart. And Ventress cannot deny it, there’s a fire in his light brown eyes, a glint that flirts right between boldness and insolence. Well, it doesn’t change the fact that he will lose, Ventress muses, but it’s something she likes to see in an opponent. The satisfaction of putting them back in their place is all the greater for it.

"No. No you’re not." She concedes. The yellow blade of her lightsaber disappears with a snap-hiss, and she clips it back to her belt. "Well then." They don’t need more than those two simple words to acknowledge that the fight is on

They circle each other up, carefully matching the other’s footsteps, like animal and prey, although it’s not yet clear which is which. Crosshair realises only now that he’s not wearing his armour, simply his black overalls, leaving him alarmingly vulnerable to Ventress’ blows, which he now knows to be very powerful. But he is nothing if a not thorough soldier, and he has actually learned a thing or two from watching Ventress fight Hunter and Wrecker. She is small, very thin and light on her feet, although unfortunately, being quite lithe himself, it’s not something he can use against her. On the matter of raw strength, he may be a man, but her lifelong training makes up for the differential that this detail may entail. Timing and precision then, two things he has come to master as a sharpshooter. For the rest, whatever she does, he will have to do it better.

Once more, he notices Ventress waits for him to make the first move. Crosshair gives in, but it’s the last time he promises himself. He throws a couple of punches her way, carefully keeping his guard up. This is more about testing the terrain and seeing how she reacts. They keep this up for a minute before the clone really starts going at her, with more speed and strength this time. Ventress parries some of his jabs, the rest she simply avoids with quick movements of her upper body. She is that good, and it’s already starting to irritate him. Mentally slapping himself to keep his head in the game, he continues his assault.

Left, right jab, he bounces on his feet to follow her movements but she circles around and docks all his blows effortlessly, her guard is not even up anymore, she is just moving her body around with inhuman speed and reflexes now. Ventress blocks one of his blows with her forearm, and counters in his stomach. It hurts, she has hit him there before, during their last fight, but somehow he manages to grab her arm and spin her around.

"Cute display," a smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, her tone laced with amusement, "but this is not a dance."

Crosshair barely has the time to register the mockery before he finds himself losing the upper hand. Indeed, if Ventress was difficult to get a grab on, she is even more difficult to hold onto. Sticking her own arm firmly behind her back, she pulls Crosshair against her with the motion, and uses their body weights against him to roll forward and extricate herself. So far, it is a perfect copy of their first fight, and Crosshair is no closer to finding a blind spot in her technique.

Ventress can see the gears spinning in his head, and picks this very moment to press her own attack, releasing a flurry of strikes down upon him with alluring speed. Despite his best efforts to parry and counter, Crosshair immediately finds himself stuck on the defensive, struggling to keep pace with the successive assaults. Ventress is absolutely ruthless, seizes every single opening, exploiting the slightest lapse in Crosshair's defenses. Her strikes find their mark almost every time with unerring accuracy. She is not only swift in her movements, but also quick at guessing what his next move will be. More often than not, Crosshair gets the unpleasant feeling that she’s working her little force-sensitive mind tricks on him; or maybe he is just trying to console himself.

With each blow, she pushes him further back until he’s cornered against a rock. He faints an error in his footing, and surprisingly, Ventress takes the bait rather easily— eager to end the fight as quickly as possible, no doubt. This is a one-time opportunity, he realises that, and so he gets to work. He dodges the first punch, the second, and feels the air sweep along the side of his face as the fist flies by, a little too close for comfort. Her left flank is open, if he can land a well-placed punch there and knock the wind out of her… But suddenly he feels it, the tremor strikes him like a thousand needles. His right hand flinches in midair, his fist loosens as he struggles to hold it up.

It all goes very fast then, Ventress shoves him hard and away from her, and throws two nasty kicks to his lower abdomen before sending him reeling to the ground, on his knees, his arm twisted behind his back.

"Yield." Her voice is calm as she issues the order, her breathing even despite the effort. Crosshair is a different story.

"No," he grunts in pain, but it’s not just physical. He hates that this part of him is slowing him down, it makes him a liability, and it could cost him in the future. It could cost her brother’s lives… Omega’s. "No," he says again with resolve, which Ventress only interprets as foolish pride.

"Have it your way." She sighs before releasing him. As he barely manages to roll away, he is suddenly gripped by an invisible force that lifts him off the ground. He grips uselessly at his throat, trying to grab at something that is not really there, his feet kicking the air in vain. It is such an odd sensation, like fighting all the elements at once. He feels utterly powerless, and he despises it. No, he will not let himself be strangled into unconsciousness, not a chance.

"Okay—," he gasps, "you win."

Crosshair hits the ground with a thud, his hand rubbing his neck.

"You cheated," he says reproachfully.

"You were being unreasonable," Ventress counters, matching his tone. "You were willing to let me break your arm, over what, pride?"

"It’s not—"

"There’s no shame in defeat."

"Easy to say when you find yourself on the winning end." Crosshair grumbles, attempting to stand up.

"A point." She offers him her hand, which he accepts after a slight hesitation. "Damage?" Crosshair got to his feet with difficulty, holding onto his left flank and shaking his head no.

"You clones are terrible liars." She says matter of factly rather than reproachfully as she looks him over, extending her hand to the one at his midsection. "Let me have a look."

"I’m good." The clone visibly flinches as if he’d been burnt.

"Seriously?" It seemed that Crosshair was more angry than embarrassed after careful consideration. Cute. Ventress tried to keep her smile to herself, unsuccessfully.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"Seeing grown men utterly incapable of accepting defeat? Always." Her grin had only grown wider.

"That’s— I’m not— forget it." As his eyes come to focus on nothing on the ground, Ventress looks at him, really looks at him. He is truly upset, but it is longer clear if it is about the defeat or something else, perhaps something more personal. She herself wasn’t particularly adamant to show her battle scars, or any scars for that matter. Some wore them proudly, for others, it was a testament of their weakness, forever carved in the skin. Crosshair looked like the kind of man who had seen a lot; done a lot. And suffered a lot. Most clones had, she knew, many because of her part in the Separatist war.

"Let me see you home at least." She half offers and asks. Years ago, she wouldn’t have lingered or even looked back twice to help an injured enemy. But that was before. She likes to think that she is a different person now, hopefully a better one too. It doesn’t erase all the bad at all, but it is a start. And besides, this clone is truly intriguing, and hardly an enemy.

Crosshair eyes her suspiciously, looking for any sign of malice or ill intent. He sees none, and nods silently before making his way up the bay, Ventress on his heels, occasionally holding a hand near his lower back as they make their way up, just in case. He doesn’t shy away from the touch this time, which Ventress assumes is because he simply hasn’t noticed. And if he has, well, that’s a start.

That's it for now, folks! Part 2 will be coming shortly with some much needed, um, comfort...

#the bad batch #asajj ventress #ct 9904 #crosshair #asajj ventress x crosshair #crosshair x asajj ventress #star wars #fanfiction #the bad batch imagine

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