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dustysalmon · 13 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."

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