sekkritaus | Rex / Andy / Poe Freelance Heroes AU

[ It was thanks purely for already having come once earlier that he can throw himself fully into this, now. He moans against her breast as she moves, sucking on the nipple and pulling at it with his teeth. But the harder she rides the less ability he has to do anything but watch - falling back against the chair so he can see her better. ]

Fuck, if this is my last meal...

[ He doesn't finish the thought, but it does occur to him that he would very much like to see this woman ride him like this as long as the universe allowed him. He makes a mental note to look her up after his job - like a good luck charm - and see if he can't take her out properly.

Or, you know, fuck her in an alley again because honestly he'd take what he could get, at this point.

Still watching, lips parted, breathing heavy, he reached out to trail a hand down her midrift, further down, until with a practiced thumb he could rub her clit as she rode him.

He just had to be careful not to watch too closely to wear he disappeared inside her or he was going to lose it, second time or no. And the only way he wanted to lose it, right now, was feeling her come around him. ]

[ She moves on him with her whole body, holding back nothing. All that forceful tension, how the muscles of her stomach tighten and release in cycles as she rocks her hips against him roughly, spurred on by his hand between her thighs. She's chasing that cliff's edge, driving herself towards it relentlessly on his cock as she sinks down onto him again and again. It's good, it's so fucking good —

Her hand releases its bruising grip on his wrist so she can get an arm around his shoulders to hold him closer, her soft breasts pressing up against him as she leans to kiss him, hot and hungry. The breathless sounds she makes are half-stifled by her mouth on his, every little moan matched up with each time his dick slides up deep inside her. ]

Ah — fuck. [ Tension builds at the base of her spine. She can feel how her heart pounds violently in her chest, the loud pulse of her own heartbeat drowning out everything before the brilliant, white hot pleasure of her orgasm leaves her shuddering in his lap, her body tightening down on him as she digs her nails into his back with a convulsing grip. ] Fuck.

[ He meets the kiss with a powerful hunger, arms wrapping tightly around her, holding on while she drove herself down again and again.

When she came, her body squeezed him so tight that he felt like she would have pushed him right out, but instead the angle meant she just clamped down hard while he was buried inside her. He moaned, helplessly, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train, absolutely unstoppable, and his hips snapped hard upward, fingers digging into her as he emptied himself deep inside her.

He shuddered through wave after wave of intense, perfect pleasure, before his muscles finally released. He sank back into the chair, his cock still buried despite how over sensitive it felt, a sheen of sweat glistening over his skin as his eyes felt closed. ]

Fuck...

[ He whispered to himself, cock still twitching as it slowly tried to retract itself. ]

Fuck, you can do that any time...

[ She needs a minute. Just to catch her breath. Her heart is still beating too hard against the inside of her ribs, and her limbs feel like fucking molasses — so she's just gonna sit a second, resting with her forehead against his shoulder and her hands loosely anchored on his upper arms. She'll move in a second — because it's entirely too intimate to linger, sitting there with the last residual twitches working their way out of her body and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as the tide of his breathing starts to even out.

It feels like an eternity before she finally gets herself to move. She lifts her hips, exhaling audibly as his cock slips free of her, leaving behind just a little trail of white from soft, flushed folds down the inside of one thigh.

With a quiet wryness: ]

Getting ahead of yourself again.

[ He doesn't seem in a rush to get up, just gazing at her with a lazy satisfaction, happily and openly oggling her as she stands. ]

Like I said, part of the job.

Just putting the offer out there. [ He points up, gesturing to the ship as a whole. ]

Black One.

[ Then to himself. ] Poe Dameron.

[ She knows it's coming — he starts to open his mouth and she knows he's going to tell her his name. Like there's any chance at all she'd ever use it. Like she isn't leaving first thing in the morning and never, ever looking back. Was that a nice fuck? Sure. Sure it was. Better than nice even. And she's not opposed to going a few more times before tomorrow.

But she doesn't need to know his name to fuck him. And honestly? She doesn't want to know. ]

Don't do that.

[ She sighs as she withdraws. Turning her back to him, she leans down to pick up her clothes from the floor, digging through her pockets for a cigarette. She gives herself a second to light up and take a drag before she goes on: ]

Babe, that's not what I'm here for.

[ If he's disappointed - and he is, he's a little disappointed - he doesn't show it, still watching her. He takes another few seconds before giving an exaggerated stretch and padding over to his own clothes. ]

Whatever you say, Hot Stuff.

[ No point arguing it. He shouldn't even feel disappointed, right? Right. ]

Well, I'm going to make myself some caf. So if you're here for that, you're welcome to a cup.

[ He pads past her towards the kitchenette further back in the ship, right past the still-lowered ramp out into the hangar. ]

[ She follows after him at her own pace, only bothering to shrug on her shirt for some semblance of modesty before wandering into the kitchenette with wisps of smoke trailing behind her. ]

Sure. [ Leaning against the doorway, she puffs away as she watches him. ] I'll take a cup.

[ Mildly then, and half in invitation: ]

Show me where your 'fresher is, after?

[ He didn't even get his clothes on, he's just carrying them - tossing them over the back of a stool when he gets into the kitchenette and starts making caf.

He was not sulking, he wasn't, but there was definitely a little brightness that came back into his expression at the question/invitation, and he glance up at her with a smug amusement as he started pouring out cups. ]

It's a pretty small one. Tight space.

[ Dryly, without missing a beat: ]

Can't be any tighter than the pilot's seat.

[ She watches him move around with a little of her own amusement — just seeing the way he perks up, and finding herself just a tiny bit endeared by it. Okay. She likes him more than most of her one night stands — she can admit that, privately. ]

Besides, isn't maneuvering tight spaces what you're good at?

[ He finishes pouring the cups and holds one out to her, grinning now, all hurt apparently forgotten. ]

Sounds like an accurate description of my abilities.

Not totally sure how much use the lower half of me is going to be for a little while, but, I'm sure I can find a way to make sure you enjoy your fresher anyway. [ If his fingers moved a little lewdly threw the handle of his mug, well, no one could blame him. ]

[ She doesn't miss the gesture. The corner of her mouth quirks up ever so slightly as she accepts her mug from him and lifts it to her lips. ]

I'll give you one thing. [ Dryly: ] You really tempt a girl to stick the fuck around.

[ Her other hand lifts her cigarette to her mouth. ]

Might have to make this an overnighter.

[ He cocked an eyebrow, just one, looking far more smug. ]

Hey, you're welcome to it. I'll even make breakfast. Though fair warning, I'll be heading out pretty early for a job.

But until then, feel free to make use of whatever you want. [ A glimmer in his eye. ] Or whoever.

[ She shrugs noncommittally over another sip of caf. It isn't likely she'll still be around come breakfast time — she has her own job to get to, in the morning, and she isn't the type to linger once the sun's up — but there's no reason to spoil the mood. She kind of likes it when he looks all pleased with himself like that — as if making this particular notch on the bedpost is something to be proud of.

Dryly: ]

Shouldn't you be resting up for your gig? [ Says Andy, the hypocrite who clearly isn't concerned about resting before her own high-risk gig tomorrow. ] Or are you such a good pilot that you can fuck all night and still fly smooth?

I'm such a good pilot that we could fuck all night, gouge my eye out and remove and arm and I'd still fly better than 90% of the rest of the Galaxy.

[ Humble, much. ]

But hey. This counts as resting. Even if I wasn't planning on making you cum so hard that you pass out.

[ She rolls her eyes a little, but there's a faint upward turn in her mouth that betrays her amusement. It's almost a shame she's not going to get to see him fly. Either he really is that good, or he's terrible, with no possibility of it being anything in between — and given the way he fucks? Probably the former. ]

Think I'd rather have you with both eyes and both arms. [ She finishes off her caf before setting the mug down on the counter and dousing her dwindling cigarette in the scant liquid remaining at the bottom. ] Seems like my chances of cumming so hard I pass out are slightly better that way.

[ They had, in the end, passed out - naked on Poe's slightly-too-small bed, the blanket tangled up in their feet. Poe only woke up because BB-8 whistled an alarm for him, from the hall.

It was still fucking early, but he groaned and dragged himself out of bed, fumbling around for his pants. ]

You want food? I've only got about twenty minutes before I gotta start getting ready for this gig, but I can heat something up for you.

[ Andy isn't usually one to sleep in after a one night stand, but to be fair, it feels like she got off about half a dozen times between the alley and his bed, so if she's a little slower to rise than normal, she can't really be blamed. It takes her a few extra minutes to get out of bed, all tousled hair and bleary eyed. Fuck. Speaking of gigs — ]

Can't stay.

[ Her voice is still a little rough from sleep when she answers, wandering around looking for where her clothes ended up. In the interest of time, she ends up borrowing a shirt without asking, pulling on her jacket over it and doing a bit of a hop-and-tug to get her trousers on. Her fly's still down when she starts heading for the ramp, smoothing her hair back into some semblance of a ponytail as she goes.

She almost blows right by him but — hell. Something makes her pause. She looks at him a second, then leans in to press a fleeting kiss to his mouth. ]

See you around, hot shot.

[ An ironic choice of words, maybe, considering she never plans on seeing him again. ]

[ He grins, content with the kiss, though he leans in to grab her waist before she can escape. ]

Careful there, [ He murmurs, zipping up her fly and then giving her a friendly smack on the ass. ] Don't want them to catch you with your pants down.

[ He gives a casual salute as he steps back. ]

Catch you later, hot stuff.

[ Once she was gone, he called out for BB-8 and immediately began running checks over the ship. Half an hour later he was back on the streets, a darker jacket on and a scarf around his throat and mouth as he blended into the crowd. The meet point was an old house, abandoned, and he slipped inside with the password to go meet whoever else he was supposed to go with on this mission. The room was empty when he arrived, or at least he thought it was, before he noted the figure in the corner. ]

Hey. Dameron. I'm the pilo--

[ Only as his eyes adjusted to the light he recognized her and blinked stupidly. ]

Uh--

[ It's a dimly lit space, and she's got her hood up, but there's the warm glow from the tip of her cigarette to cast a little light on her distinctive features — that unforgivingly straight nose, those sharp dark eyes, hard to forget even if they hadn't spent most of last night inches from each other's faces.

She looks up at the sound of his voice, meets his gaze for one long stunned second, and abruptly turns away with a cough as she chokes on smoke. ]

What the f— [ This is not how this is supposed to go. Did he just say he's the pilot? She's fucked up. Shit. Shit. ] What the hell are you doing here? [ Even though she knows the answer to that question. It all makes stupid sense now: Same fucking gig. ] No. We're not doing this. No way in hell.

I'm the pilot. [ He repeats, a little louder, in case it was her hearing that was the problem. (He knew it wasn't.) But he was bristling already. ]

What? Hey, look, I signed up for this gig weeks ago, and it's not getting off the ground without me, so, just settle down.

Fine. Then I fucking quit.

[ As if she could. Like there aren’t contracts involved and money paid up front. Bad enough that she’s got a bounty on her head already - the last thing she needs is a reputation for bailing on her jobs too. Everybody wants to hire a Scythian - but nobody likes a thug who doesn’t follow through. Lose-lose. She doesn’t know what to do about this. Her rule is one night only. No names. No nothing. Definitely no working together afterwards. How the hell is she supposed to concentrate with him around anyway?

Fuck.

Andy sinks into a crouch with her arms hanging loosely in defeat over her knees and her head bent as she groans in frustration. ]

There has to be a couple dozen pilots on this planet alone. They couldn’t have picked a different one?

Because I'm the best one. [ A little testily, and a little hurt. He'd actually been hoping to see her again, but her reaction wasn't the one he was expecting.

Fucking damn it. He should have pegged it when she refused the whole names thing. His expression darkened. ]

No one else on this rock can do what we'll need to do - probably no one else in this sector. And of the handful of guys that could try it, none of them are stupid enough to.

[ He crossed the room to where someone had left a caf pot brewing, and poured himself a cup. ]

So get over it, hot stuff. You're stuck with me.

[ To say that she absolutely didn't want to see him again wouldn't be completely honest — but she knows how she is. She knows that she has to stick to her stupid shitty rules to keep herself safe. And this is fucking it all up.

She rubs a finger between her eyebrows for a second before sighing wearily, standing up with some effort and approaching to pick up a mug for herself. One hand holds her cup out expectantly while the other lifts her cigarette back towards her mouth — a familiar sight, maybe, after that morning, though her mood is definitely more sour now than it was then. ]

Fuck it. We'll probably die anyway.

[ He looked at her cup, and very nearly refused to pour her one out of pure pettiness, the hesitation obvious, but then he grunted lowly and reached over to pour it out. ]

That's the spirit. [ Extremely mildly. When her cup was full, he put the thing back where it had come from and then turned to lean against the counter, nursing his cup. ]

Why the hell do you think I was looking for such a thorough last meal, otherwise?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject