sekkritaus | Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

[ Sometimes she gets like this — sometimes even after they've hit hyperspace and the battle is lightyears away, some part of her lingers in that place, moody and violent. Some restless energy that still hasn't burned off. It makes her more prickly than she is even normally — gives her usual wryness a sharper edge, her quips a little cruelty. It's really only a matter of who's around to take the brunt of it.

She's still covered in blood and dirt. Red smeared bright on her cheek and sticking in her hair. Clinging under her nails. She's brisk with herself as she tugs her own shirt off, tossing it aside to expose the large gash on her side for her scrutiny. It looks worse than it is, and her Scythian physiology will do most of the work — which makes it more annoying than it is painful. ]

Next time? We do things my way.

[ The words are biting — not her usual dry taunting — and blatantly directed at Poe, who, in all honesty, can only be blamed as much as she herself can. ]

Your way, huh.

[ Poe doesn't actually sound all that annoyed. He's already ripping the flimsi off the adhesive side of the bacta patch, walking over and pressing it to the wound a lot more carefully that Andy herself would have applied it. Near immortality or not, there was no point leaving that open to the air. Then he was grabbing a washcloth, but really? Who was he kidding - Andy looked amazing, covered in blood. Even if she was annoyed. It hadn't been the first time she'd been moody after a battle. Which he - well, maybe 'got' was a strong word. But he wasn't surprised by it. ]

Pretty sure that whole last hour was your way, I'm not taking responsibly for that. Hand to hand combat isn't exactly my forte. [ Of course, it wouldn't have been necessary if Poe hadn't crashed the speeder into the warehouse, but at least he'd crashed on purpose that time.

He straddled her lap without so much as a by-your-leave, damp cloth already working to clean the blood from her throat. ]

[ Her eyebrows pinch a little when he smooths the bacta patch on - like she half considers arguing about it as if it would be more convenient for her to just bleed everywhere during the few days it would take for her body to heal itself. His proximity details the impulse though - funny, how he has this way of drawing all her attention, even when she’s doing her best to be aloof and irritable. Leaves her somewhere between annoyed with him and attracted to him - which, in all honestly, isn’t an entirely unfamiliar state of affairs.

He gets about a second to wipe the blood from her skin before she’s catching his wrist in a firm grip, stalling him. Her fingers tighten just briefly before letting go - a brief reprieve before she snags a handful of his shirt instead, pulling him down so that their faces are a scant inch apart. The words she utters into that small space come low and rough around the edges. ]

Don’t bother with that.

[ It would be a lot easier to argue if her lips weren't so close and he couldn't hear the low growl of a promise in her voice. If her grip on his wrist for that brief moment wasn't incredibly strong, and already sending his mind other places. Damn it, he was trying to be good.

Still, he felt like he had to argue for the sake of it.

...

Well... maybe mostly because she was fucking hot when she was annoyed with him. ]

No? Should I just let you wander around the ship like you put yourself through a meat grinder for a fun afternoon? [ His breathing was coming a little faster, though, a little harder, and he leaned in as if he was going to close that last inch, but stopped a hair's breath away. ]

Why, what should I bother with instead?

[ And he goes right back to cleaning because maybe then she'll grab his wrists again.

Look. It's a good plan. ]

Edited 2018-12-08 15:46 (UTC)

[ Trust Poe Dameron to rile her up when she's already like this — charged with that restless energy and literally covered in the blood of her enemies. But he's never lacked for nerve, and no matter how annoyed she gets, there's always a part of her that likes that about him. She might know a dozen ways to break a man's neck, but he always knows just how to get under her skin.

It's predictable when she catches his arm again, but her grip doesn't yield this time — it's hard, like her stare, putting pressure on the small bones of his wrist. For a moment, her expression is unreadable — but then the corner of her mouth quirks upward in a way that's a little unkind, her voice unrepentant and mocking when she responds: ]

I don't know. You could light me a cigarette. [ She tilts her head up, baring that bloody-streaked throat in at least half a challenge. ] Or you could quit asking useless questions and just go down on me already.

[ There's a heavy thump of arousal in his pulse as she catches his wrist, the grip right on the edge between discomfort and pain - which is right where he wants it, anyway. She gives her suggestions, and, honestly, it was right where he wanted to go anyway, but there's a large part of him that just wants to grunt "Make me." at her.

He managed to resist that impulse, but he doesn't manage to resist the last shred of space between them, wrist still caught in her grip as he pressed a hard kiss to her lips, and then another, lower, against her bloodied throat. He didn't mind the taste, really. Which was a little worrying, but - sleep with Andy enough and it just gets nostalgic.

His free hand slips down between them, but instead of going for her pants, goes for her pocket, instead, deftly opening up the packet while it was still in her pocket and then sitting back to slide the cigarette between her lips. ]

Think I'll go with both. [ He says with a smirk, fishing out the lighter, too, and - still one handed - flicking it on to light the cigarette. ]

Though you're going to have to get out of some of these clothes, and that's going to ruin the covered in blood aesthetic, so are you totally sure you want that? [ He looks nearly as smug as he does after he blows up eight ships in a row. Because yeah, he's pretty sure she wants that. ]

[ She's lived a long and bloody life — fought so many battles, almost died too many times. Had more lovers than she can remember now. After a while, nothing made her heart race anymore, not after all those centuries. Not before she met Poe. Now, just his kiss leaves her a little breathless. Just watching his hand move down between them makes her pulse quicken — and she can't help a wry exhale of amusement when she sees him go for her cigarettes instead. Tease.

But she must not mind that too much, even in this mood, because she obligingly parts her lips for the cigarette, pressing it there as he deftly lights it for her. Good hands, he has. She likes that too. ]

I'm sure you'll make the sacrifice worth it. [ Her wry reply comes with wisps of smoke. Finally, she lets go of his wrist, relieving him of her iron grip. She's not so deft as he is — she'll need both hands to undress. ] If not, I can always put them back on. [ She gives him a light, taunting pat on the cheek. ] Let me up before I change my mind.

You can always try, [ He replies, helpfully. But he does as she asks and slides himself off her lap. Sure, she could probably do this herself, but why do that when he can kneel down in front of her instead, hands moving to unclasp her belt. ]

[ She could probably do it herself, but why, when she'd much rather watch him do it? Her heavy-lidded eyes stay fixed on him as he kneels between her legs, and she gives herself a moment or two to smoke and appreciate the sight before she leans down to be a little helpful.

Casually, she draws the knife from her left boot. And then a second one from her right. Makes it easier to toe her shoes off. ]

Remind me again why I put up with all your damn sass, Dameron.

Because I've got nice hair and I know what to do with my tongue. [ He smirked, giving her an amused look as he tossed the belt aside, then helped her remove her boots.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inner seam of her trousers, just at the knee, as his hands went for the fastenings. Because no one fucking knows how they close any clothing in Star Wars. Whatever it was, practices hands made quick work of it, even as he pressed a few more kisses up that inner seam travelling up her inner thighs. ]

Because I'm the best damn pilot in the galaxy. [ Super humble, too. He glanced up at her, a mischevious glint in his eyes as he finished the last clasp, hands shifting to her waistband instead, gripping the cloth to start tugging it down her hips - though she's going to need to raise them for him to get much further. ]

And because I happily go down on you whenever you ask me to.

[ There is, of course, the small fact that she loves him to death. But yeah, she likes having the best pilot in the galaxy between her legs too - and he’s right, he definitely knows what to do with his tongue. Even if she seems to be doing little more than impassively smoking, just the thought of his mouth on her has a heat building between her thighs and ancitipation drawing those muscles tight. There’s no denying the want in her eyes as she watches him.

She lifts her hips obligingly for him, exhaling another mouthful of smoke on her mildly mocking answer: ]

Oh, is that all? [ Liberated of her pants, she sits with her knees casually apart, utterly unselfconscious. ] Amazing what a person will tolerate just to get good head from a cute pilot.

[ Look he knows better to pull out the "plus you love me" card.

He'd taken all the cloth he could grab - trousers, underclothes, all of it. He couldn't help but let out a breath - almost a sigh - a she got a good look at her, legs spread unabashedly. Not quite wide enough, though. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her knee as he nudged it open, his hands sliding down her thighs, fingers running over her hips and securing there as he trailed kisses against her skin. His own arousal was making his pulse pick up, his intention making his mouth water. Before he made it to the innermost part of her thigh, however, he changed track and leaned in to press a warm kiss to her flat stomach. ]

Think I'll have to work harder to make sure you do more than tolerate it. [ He pressed a kiss lower, even as he slipped one hand from her hip, pressing his palm against her as he slid it down between her legs, pressing it firmly enough against her to feel good but not firmly enough to be satisfying. He kept trailing kissed lower - pausing to nip at skin with his teeth - as his palm slowly began to grind against her. ]

[ There's probably a smartass quip just on the tip of her tongue, but his mouth and his hands are an eternal distraction to her — she only exhales as he kisses her skin, letting a few faint wisps of smoke escape instead of any harsh words. A tangible tension rises in her thighs as she presses her toes against the floor, looking for leverage to try and grind back against the pressure of his palm between her legs.

Finally, low and wry and a little rough around the edges: ]

Is teasing me your idea of working harder?

[ As if she doesn't like it plenty. ]

Yeup. [ A smug, knowing glint of a smile in his eyes when he glanced up at her. He shifted himself down a little further, pressing a kiss just above the heel of his palm, still slowly grinding. ]

Anticipation is half the fun.

[ Another kiss, his hair brushing his hand as he turned his head, lips running against her inner thigh. He could feel her temperature rising, and his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh as his palm twisted, thumb replacing the pressure with a lot more focus, in a long teasing stroke over her. ]

Why, you got somewhere else to be?

[ Maybe there's a little irony in this — how she'll shrug off being shot, but can't help the small shiver that races up her spine when his thumb presses just so against her clit. She might like to act like her skin is thicker than a zakkeg's hide, but she's already a little breathless and getting wet — just from that faint scrape of teeth, those soft kisses, the teasing stroke of his thumb. She's even forgotten about her cigarette, letting it dwindle between her fingers as all her attention rests on Poe between her legs.

Her teeth catch briefly on her lower lip as she shifts her hips restlessly, delaying her answer by a noticeable half-beat. ]

I think your smart-ass mouth has somewhere else to be.

[ For someone that spends most of his time wanting to go real fast everywhere, Poe is surprisingly methodical about this. He doesn't want to give her a short build up and a quick release. Not when they actually have some time. He wants to pull her right to the edge a dozen times over so that when she finally cums, it makes her whole body shudder and shake with pleasure.

It's not a solely altruistic gesture.

He can feel the heat radiating from her, and as his thumb starts pressing against her clit in teasing, tight circles - a slow but building rythym - he lets a finger slide testingly between her folds, immediately gratified to find it slides easily, already slick.

It's not like he's unaffected, either. Her arousal is quickly building his own, though he ignores the way his pants are growing far too tight. ]

I'm getting there. [ His voice a little quieter, a little rougher, as he teases with his thumb and fingers, still too light to really be satisfying, but it's definitely getting him going.

Finally, he can't resist, and with something like a sigh he leans in, pressing a warm, open mouthed kiss against her before moving his thumb and letting his tongue take over its duties. He doesn't pull his hand away, though, a finger still sliding against her wet heat, teasing as if about to enter her but never quite doing it. ]

[ The tide of his exhale against her skin only makes her all the more aware of how wet she already is. Anticipation draws her stomach tight in that brief moment before his tongue presses against her clit — then she inhales audibly, dragging in a wavering breath as her eyebrows pinch together. ]

Fuck.

[ It's an emphatic little murmur that escapes her as she tangles her free hand in Poe's hair, grasping just slightly too tight, tugging at the roots. Maybe she means for it to come out wryly when she speaks, but it's too thin, too breathless: ]

I swear you'll be the death of me. [ She sinks lower in her seat, looking for the leverage to grind up against his mouth. ] Come on. Fingers too.

[ He chuckles, which makes the task at hand a little more difficult, but only for a second. He's a little too occupied for a witty reply, since that would mean he'd have to pull away from what he was doing for an entire three seconds, which is three seconds too long, in his opinion.

He does as she asks, but entirely too slowly, ducking his head a little to run his tongue against her and the tips of his fingers, though she's more than wet enough to need any added lubrication. Honestly, he just wants to lose himself in the taste of her. His mouth returns to her clit as he slides the first finger in, far too easily, and he can feel his cock throb with sympathetic need as he starts to move it within her. His tongue and lips are solely focused on that bud, however, lapping and sucking with just a little too little pressure, though it's building steadily.

It's hard to keep teasing her, though, his own arousal overcoming his humor, and he groans against her as he slides a second finger in alongside the first. ]

[ Andy's being selfish — basking in the way it feels to have his clever mouth between her thighs, letting that feeling carve away the sharp edge that the last fight left her with. That first finger slides inside her easy as sin, just a little distraction from the attention he's paying to her clit — that damn teasing pressure, keeping her on the edge and looking for more.

She can feel the low noise he makes as much as that second finger when it presses inside, and both make her tense up with want, her body tightening down around his fingers as her own hand tightens in his hair. ]

Harder. [ The angle must be good, because she lets her head fall back against the wall behind her, baring that bloody throat as a rough, breathless sound escapes her. ] Come on, Poe — harder.

[ He feels her body tense and tighten and any remaining restraint he had breaks completely. Harder, she demands, and he instantly obeys - no longer holding back with his tongue or his lips or the way his fingers start moving in her like they are directly tied to his cock. In a way, they are, because every clench of muscle around them makes the blood surge south, his hips rolling against air in a vain attempt to get any friction as he fucks her with his mouth and hand as well as he knows how.

It isn't patience or anything close that keeps him chasing her pleasure. Every breathless sound, every hitch of her breath and tiny grunt is a direct conduit to his own pleasure.

He wonders, vaguely, if he could make himself come just by getting her off.

Probably not, but damn if he wouldn't try-- ]

[ Gods — yes. That's how she wants it. All that teasing building up to a satisfyingly hard pace, hard enough that she can hear how wet he has her — with his mouth and his hand, but the sight of him too, all the ways he fills her senses with they're like this. She watches him between her thighs with heavy-lidded eyes until that tension draws to a peak, her fingers twisting harshly in his hair as her thighs tighten up and her expression, so often stoic, falls into something honest and unguarded. Her lips part on a soft, strained syllable as she bends forward over him, holding out for another split second before her hips twitch and she shudders — ]

Fuck. [ It's a reverent whisper more than a curse. ] Oh, fuck. Poe.

[ The sharp tug on his hair is his first warning - one that he loves, sending a bolt of arousal straight down his spine. He doesn't let up, actually increasing the intensity - probably a little too hard, a little too rough, but he's chasing her pleasure as best he can.

His name falls from her lips and he feels it - her thighs quivering against him as a sudden pulse of tension grips his fingers in rolling waves. He moans against her as he rides it out, trying to draw it out as long as he can, though he lets up on the pressure gradually as the waves come a little slower. He doesn't pull back until he's sure that shudder was the final one, licking his fingers clean before pressing clumsy kisses against her thigh as he sat back on his heels. He can't help himself, though, his hand going straight to his cock as soon as it was free, leaning his head against her and closing his eyes as he started roughly stroking himself. ]

Force, I love you, Andy... [ It's barely audible, half a moan, as if he's speaking to himself rather than to her. ]

[ She might be more of a mess now than she was when he started cleaning her up — sitting there with her legs open, skin glistening with wetness from his mouth and her own arousal, barely kept to some remote standard of modesty by nothing but her bra and that damn bacta patch. There's still a tiny bit of her cigarette left too — enough for her to lift to her lips and get one good pull off of before she flicks the stub aside. Her voice is low and warm and lazy when she answers in a wisp of smoke: ]

I know you do.

[ Her reciprocation remains unspoken. Instead, she leans forward to nudge his hand aside with her foot before he can get too far. ]

Hey. You wanna save that for me, hot shot?

[ He didn't expect to hear it, or need to - even acknowledgement of his own feelings was more than she gave on her bad days. It was enough to spread warmth through his chest.

His eyes flickered open with a soft grunt as she pushed his hand away with a foot, before looking up at her with a smile that was somewhere between apologetic and smug. ]

Sorry. Not my fault that you are incredibly hot.

[ He didn't try to put his hand back, instead letting it rest on her knee as he turned his head to press a warm kiss to her thigh. ]

[ That earns a small, wry smile. She tilts her head at him in consideration, her dark eyes at a leisurely half-mast. ]

Flatterer. [ Her foot lifts to brace against the front of his shoulder, pushing him back a little in a way that's somewhere between mean and playful. It makes room for her to stand though, stripping the rest of the way as she does — leaving her nothing but long hair and blood-smeared skin. ] You say such sweet things when you're horny.

[ Mildly then, with a meaningful downward glance: ]

So. Should we do something with that?

poe & andy: UP TO THEIR USUAL SHIT AGAIN

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