Archive of Our Own

Cal feels like shit.

He must look like shit, too, if the commiserating glances everyone’s been giving him are any indication. Hell, even BD-1 has been giving him looks, which is especially impressive given their distinct lack of facial muscles to express themself with.

They’ve been in hyperspace for three days, still have four more to go, and Cal can’t fucking sleep, or at least can’t sleep well, because he left his favorite toy behind in his room on accident, and maybe it’s ridiculous but it kriffing works, and he’s… going a little crazy, maybe. Just a bit.

It started a couple of years ago, when he was on his own and stir-crazy and lonely. He'd passed out after jerking off with a dildo still in, and woke up feeling refreshed like he hadn’t felt in… well, maybe ever. Trial, error, and experimentation lead him to discover that he didn’t even need to come before falling asleep for the toy to be an effective sleep remedy— there’s just something about feeling so full… like he’s not alone.

He’d gone through a few options before he landed on his favorite. It’s silicone, a pretty gradient from pink to blue, thick, and the slim base of it curves perfectly against the shape of his cunt, like a plug made just for him. All he has to do is pull up his underwear to make extra certain that it won’t slip out during the night, and then he’s out cold in minutes.

He doesn’t sleep with it in every night, mind, but it’s… more often than he’ll admit to. Not that he’d ever admit to this habit to begin with.

Without it, though…

Cal feels like trash that’s been compacted by a gonk droid and spat back out. He’ll admit, he’s been unusually short and snippy with everyone else, and, well, the tension can only build up so much in a confined (albeit roomy) space like the Mantis’ interior.

It’s hard to say, given the lack of a proper day-night cycle while traveling through space and the dim half-lit state he has the room set to, but Cal’s pretty certain that it’s currently very, very late. At the very least, everyone else is asleep, including BD-1, who’s set to charge for the next several hours. For the record, Cal had laid down, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. Keyword "tried." He even kriffing meditated, to no avail.

Cal’s sitting on his cot in the engine room and futzing with some ‘saber parts— not his actual lightsaber, because he’s at least wise enough to recognize that he shouldn’t mindlessly handle his laser sword while exhausted— when his door slides open, followed by a polite knock on his doorframe.

Cal looks up to see Bode ducking down and peeking through the doorway, one hand resting against the upper part of the frame. He’s got his sleep clothes on— loose, soft pants and a black tank top. His hair is unstyled in a way Cal so rarely gets to see, dark strands falling down onto Bode's face rather than being strategically pushed back by pomade and hope. There’s also a furrow to Bode’s brow, like he’s worried about something.

He’s probably worried about Cal himself, though it takes Cal’s sleep-deprived brain a sluggish few moments to register that as a possibility.

Oh. Seems like Bode drew the short straw in terms of who was sent to check on him… or, and Cal feels that this is far more likely, he’s come to check on him because he’s just good like that. (Stars, Cal’s lucky to have a friend like him.)

"Hey, Scrapper," Bode greets, stepping inside of Cal’s little hideaway. "Can’t sleep, huh?"

Cal snorts. "No." He drops the parts he was fidgeting with into a box under his cot before bringing his knees to his chest, curling his arms around them.

"Is there… something on your mind?" asks Bode, his voice carefully unobtrusive and sounding as soft as his sleep-strewn hair. Blast it, Bode is just so… so... he really cares about Cal, in a way that's unfamiliar and makes Cal's heart skip a beat and trip over itself.

"No," Cal says quickly, because there isn't. Well. Aside from his debilitating crush on his closest friend. And the aching need for something in his… anyways.

"You sure?" Bode questions, brows furrowed. He does not look very convinced by Cal's admittedly unconvincing answer.

"Yeah," Cal says. "I just… can’t fall asleep, that’s all." There. That was truthful enough, albeit not the whole truth. His work here is done. Bode can leave him alone now, thanks.

"What’s different, then? You seem to get along just fine normally," Bode says. He walks over and sits by Cal on the cot, the flimsy excuse for a mattress dipping under his not-insubstantial weight. Oh, Bode is so not gonna leave, is he?

"Yeah, normally, when I—" Cal cuts himself off, closing his mouth with a clack of his teeth and a cringing wince. Shit.

"When you what, Cal?" Bode nudges, curiously pulling on this new lead. It gives Cal the impression of a krel shark who's scented blood in the water, or a hunting hound who's found a trail. Or, like his too-caring too-handsome best friend inadvertently trying to get him to divulge his most embarrassing secret.

Cal shakes his head no, like a petulant child.

"C’mon, man. Tell me. If there’s something I can do to help…" Bode trails off, frowning, his stupidly pretty dark eyes shining with concern. "I just hate seeing you like this. All… mopey, dull. Like someone’s put out your fire."

Cal pouts, mopingly. He’s definitely not mopey. He’s just tired.

"I left something behind in my room on Koboh, and I can’t sleep without it. That’s all," Cal explains, hoping that would be the end of it.

It's not, of course. Why would it ever be?

There's a beat of silence. Cal tenses in anticipation.

"And?" Bode presses, brows raised.

"And what?"

"Well, what is it you left behind?" he asks, his head tilting curiously in a manner that's admittedly very cute.

"I— just— it’s nothing," Cal sputters, feeling his face heat up as he thinks about the answer to that question. And visualizes said answer, and unbiddenly thinks about that answer being inside of him once again, and—

"Cal."

"It’s nothing!"

"Cal," Bode huffs, not unkindly, just… amused and exasperated. "Just tell me. Whatever it is, if it gets you to kriffing sleep for once, it can’t be that embarrassing."

Oh, but it is.

Fuck it. Fuck, whatever. What's the worst that could happen, the worst Bode could think of him? He's done more embarrassing things in front of the man he's kinda in love with, probably. Maybe. Possibly.

"I can’t sleep without… without something in me. Okay?" Cal grits out, ducking his head and definitively not making eye contact. His face feels like it's burning.

"Oh," Bode chokes, his voice strangled. "You mean— oh."

A risky, half-glaring glance back up treats Cal to the sight of Bode looking downright dumbfounded. The tips of his ears are red, his round eyes are wide, his kissable lips are slightly agape, and even the peaks of his strong handsome cheekbones are starting to flush. He's just… entirely stupefied, uncomposed, in a way Cal's never once seen from the put-together merc before.

Fuck. Nevermind. Cal's totally ruined everything.

(He thanks every little god that at least Bode isn't Force-sensitive… well, not that he'd really need the Force to tell just how mortified Cal is right now. His voice and his reddened face already spell it out clearly enough.)

"I know, it’s kriffing weird of me, you don’t have to say it."

"No— well, maybe a little— it’s just… that was definitely not what I thought you were gonna say," Bode gets out, chuckling a bit at the end. "So the thing you left behind…?"

"A toy. A dildo." Cal spits the words out quickly, as if that'll make it more bearable. Just like ripping a bacta patch off.

"Right. Okay."

"You can leave me to die now," Cal says miserably, burying his face further away into his curled-up knees. "Door’s right over there. Don’t bump your head on the way out."

Bode laughs, warm and amused. "Not going anywhere, scrap rat. Unless you actually wanna be alone right now?"

Cal stays damningly silent.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," Bode says, his voice sounding terribly, unfoundedly fond.

Cal can both hear and feel Bode's weight shift a bit on the cot. He's scooted closer, maybe, he thinks.

“You don’t have to answer, but… can I ask… why it helps you?” Bode’s voice is painfully gentle, in a way that Cal feels undeserving of, especially considering what he’d just admitted to. Cal does not look up from where he’s hiding away— if anything, he curls into himself further. He can just imagine Bode's stupidly handsome, kind face, and his stupidly soft, loose, fluffy hair, and him just sitting there right next to him, looking so… ugh. Bode's so good, and he makes it so easy to like him, it's unfair.

“I… ‘cause it makes me feel like I’m not sleeping alone,” Cal says, quiet as a snitmouse, like he’s confessing a sin. Somehow, this is almost more embarrassing than the first admission. Alright, admittedly, nothing could outdo the feeling of telling his best friend about his peculiar sleeping habits. This came pretty darn close to it, however.

Bode makes a soft noise at Cal's words, like a sort of… empathetic coo.

"I'm… I wish…" Bode starts, then stops. Huh. Bode never fumbles his words. Cal must've really stumped him with the whole cock warming a sex toy to cope thing.

"I don't want you to feel alone, Cal," Bode finally says, voice tinged with something undefinable.

Oh.

There's a long, drawn out moment of silence between them. The air is tense with… well, tension. Anticipation, maybe, though Cal can't imagine what for. For Cal to find a way to dig himself an even deeper hole, probably.

"You know… I could help with that," Bode says, all cool and casual, like he hasn't just offered— offered to—

Cal snaps his head back up. "What?"

No, really. What? Did he hear that right?

"I could help you out, if you want," Bode says again, like a direct quote out of one of Cal's most hidden and convoluted fantasies, if you ignore all of the humiliation it took to get here. Bode puts his big hands up placatingly; Cal tries not to stare at his muscular bare arms, and fails. "Or, we can forget I ever offered, and I’ll leave you to stew in your misery."

Cal’s eyes quickly (and hopefully inconspicuously) dart down to the lower half of Bode that he never lets himself look at for very long. It’s hard to say if it’s at half-mast or if Bode is just… showy. This manages to tell him nothing about Bode's honesty or lackthereof, and instead just makes him impossibly more flustered.

"You mean…?" Cal ask, trailing off, because how the hell is he going to phrase that? You mean you're really willing to take one for the team and stick your dick in me for the whole night? "You’re serious? You’re not fucking with me?"

"Well, I would be fucking with you, if you think about it—"

"Bode," Cal cuts him off. Bode chuckles again, and Cal can't help but laugh a bit as well, the load of the tension between them lightened.

"Yes, I’m serious," Bode says, a kind and genuine smile on his face in spite of the less-than-innocent circumstances. "And besides… it's not like letting you keep my cock warm would be a real hardship." Now that kind smile turns crooked and cocky.

Cal chokes a little at that being said so blatantly, and by Bode of all people, in that criminally handsome voice of his that he can never get enough of hearing.

"Something’s gonna be hard, that’s for sure," Cal mumbles without thinking, earning a laugh from Bode.

"So?"

"…Please. Just— please," Cal says, voice low, at this point nearly uncaring of whether or not he has to beg.

"Alright," Bode says, voice oddly quiet given what they'd just agreed to. Gentle, even. "Can you take your clothes off for me?"

"We're— you mean— like right now?" Cal stammers, eyes widening.

"No, I was thinking we'd let you go without sleep another whole night, just for kicks and giggles," Bode says flatly, and Cal snorts. "Yes, right now. That fine by you?" The corners of Bode's mouth twitch up into a soft, encouraging smile, one that has Cal's speeding heart tripping over itself and skipping a beat.

"Yeah. Yes," Cal says with a nod, maybe a little too obviously eager. He swallows, hard.

"So… your clothes? I mean, I could help with those too," Bode says, sounding sort of… flirty? And, well. He's about to put his dick in Cal's cunt. It might be weirder if he wasn't flirty. Still, that doesn't stop Cal's face from heating up even more than it already has.

Cal needs to maintain some amount of dignity and decorum, some small shred of plausible deniability regarding his devastating adoration for the man next to him, so he strips his own loose shirt off without any help. Then, acting braver than he feels, he shimmies his underwear and his sleep pants down in one go.

The engine room runs surprisingly chilly, and goosebumps crawl up his skin and make his hair stand on end. Cal tries to ignore the way his nipples pebble up from the cold. He pretends that his shiver is solely caused by the temperature, and not by Bode's heavy gaze on him.

Cal hears Bode's breath hitch, and— and maybe Cal's misinterpreting this, but… no, Bode is clearly, blatantly checking him out, eyes scanning over his bare body. He tries not to squirm under the scrutiny. Bode brings his bottom lip between his teeth, and Cal can't tell if the other man looks like he's calculating, or if he's hungry. Maybe both. Cal tamps his hopes down like he's smothering a flame. Or, at least, he tries to.

"You normally sleep on your side, yeah?" Bode asks. Huh. Cal's sorta touched he remembered that detail about him.

Cal nods, because his mouth is dry and his throat is feeling tight, all of a sudden.

"Alright. That’s perfect. Just lie down and relax for me, okay?"

Cal obliges, opting to face the wall away from Bode so he doesn't keel over and die from seeing Bode stare so intently at him. Still, he swears he can feel the heavy weight of Bode's eyes on him, despite his best efforts to ignore it.

Relax for me, Bode had said, like it's supposed to be easy. Cal is ass-naked in front of his best friend who he's crushing hard on, and said best friend just agreed to— to let him keep his cock warm. No, he definitely does not relax.

Cal doesn't know what to expect from here, what Bode's plans for him are. Is he going to be quick, and just… force his way in? Surely not— Bode would never.

A big, warm hand touches Cal's back. A bare hand. Bode's not wearing his gloves, fuck, how come Cal didn’t notice sooner? Now he sorta wishes he'd gotten a better look.

He’s always been captivated by Bode’s hands— their sureness, their dexterity, their size. On more than one occasion, he’s nearly been caught staring at them while Bode meticulously cleaned his blaster. He cherishes each and every time Bode touches him, clapping a hand on his shoulder or pulling him in for a half-hug; Cal is constantly marveling at how, no matter where on his body Bode touches, his massive hands always seem to eclipse Cal’s form, overtaking him entirely.

Bode traces over his skin in mindless patterns. Maybe he's connecting the dots of his freckles as if he's making constellations, like Cal so badly wants to do to Bode's own beauty-marked skin. Or… maybe he just wants the tension to leave Cal, so he can slip in more easily. Tough, when the beautiful man Cal's in love with is touching his bare skin with bare hands.

The mattress dips as Bode moves closer to Cal. The hand on his back slides up and into his hair, and Cal can't stop a hitched-breath gasp from leaving his lips. Bode hums as he pets through Cal's hair, and it feels amazing, and Cal is trying to burn this memory into his mind— and yet, the tension still does not leave Cal entirely.

Much less so when he feels a finger from Bode's other hand probing at his slit.

Cal freezes up entirely, and jerks away on instinct. Fuck, he wants it, craves it— he'd just been surprised, that's all.

"I told you to relax, Cal," Bode says, almost chidingly. "Just breathe for me." And there's those two words again— for me. As if Cal wouldn't obey the command if it were coming from anyone but Bode… and, yeah, admittedly, he probably wouldn't. But it really is Bode, and his rough voice, and his steady, calloused hands…

One of said hands comes in again, brushing against his folds, almost just… petting, like he had with his hair. Fuck, Cal's so wet just from Bode barely touching him, it's almost embarrassing.

"You're soaking," Bode says, and Cal can't quite put a word to the emotion he hears in Bode's voice just then. He's soon too distracted to consider it further by a single thick digit of Bode's hand— the index, he thinks— moving forward and slipping in, Cal's wet entrance offering no resistance.

"Nnn, ah, Bode," Cal cries out, not that he'd meant to do so. He doesn't mean to squeeze around Bode's finger so tightly either, but it's too late now. He thinks he hears Bode chuckle (in amusement? Fondness? Kriff, he can't think straight) at his little noises.

Fuck, Cal feels like he's in a bad holoporn right now just by thinking this, but even one of Bode's damn fingers is already so much. It's more than when Cal fingers himself, anyways. He loves Bode's broad hands, has savored every split-second glimpse he's gotten of them without the gloves on, and they feel just as good as he'd imagined. Just as big.

"You always this tight inside, Scrapper?" Bode asks as he curls his finger into Cal, sounding almost awed, and Cal can't tell if that question is genuine or— or if Bode is dirty-talking him. Either way, Cal's pretty sure those words and Bode's tone when he said them are going to be seared into his brain forever.

He's saved from having to answer by Bode pulling back and slipping a second, equally thick finger into his eager, greedy cunt. They thrust in and out in a steady, assured pace, stretching him in a way he hasn't gotten to feel properly since before they set off from Koboh. Kriff. Cal makes a wordless noise somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and his face heats up at how pathetic he must sound, at how his desperate clenching gives away how needy he feels.

If the whines from his mouth didn't give him away, then the wet, sloppy sounds from his pussy surely do.

From behind him, faintly, he hears Bode swear under his breath, so… Cal's either doing something very right, or something very, very wrong.

Gingerly, maybe reluctantly, Bode pulls his fingers out from Cal's heat. "Think you're good, Cal," Bode murmurs, and surely by that he means loose enough for my dick to slide in, but then—

"Yeah, you're very good, aren't you," Bode says, voice still low, and he pets his dry hand up his side. Cal shivers again, and he can't pretend it's from the cold this time, not when Bode's lit such a fire in him. Holy shit, Bode is touching him, praising him, after he fingered him open. Cal could die now, and die happy. He can't yet, though— he still needs Bode's— he still needs Bode.

Cal hears, and feels, Bode stand up for a moment, then the shuffling of fabric. Which means— Bode's gotten naked. Bode's naked now, and crawling back into bed with him.

Bode pulls the blankets that were ruched up at the foot of the bed over them both, the softness almost like a balm to Cal's nerves. He must make another needy noise, because Bode gently shushes him, his bare hand returning to rub up and down his side, a light touch on his waist.

And he can feel— that's— that's Bode's cock pressing against his ass cheek, searing hot and hard as durasteel. Surely it's not actually as big as it feels like it is, right? Bode's everything is running warm, the rest of his bare skin just centims from Cal's own, and Cal is trying so so hard to be good and not tense up again.

Bode makes it difficult, though, when he takes his hand away and uses it to feed his cock into Cal's cunt instead.

He doesn't catch at first, sliding through his folds instead, bumping against the back of Cal's t-dick, and— kriff, he really is big. Cal bites his lip, bites back any other sounds he's so tempted to make. Instead, he tilts his hips and arches his back, squirming backwards and meeting Bode halfway, until—

Fuck, fuck yes, Bode is inside of him, and even just the tip is fucking huge. The stretch alone is completely shorting out any thoughts Cal might've deigned to have in that moment. And the fact that Bode didn't even kriffing ask about condoms… he must know by now that Cal's sterile, sure, but there's just something about Bode fucking him raw and the risk of it taking— not that they're fucking, exactly, not really. But it's enough for Cal. It's everything, in fact.

"There we are, there we go," Bode says, voice strained. He's— he doesn't just slide in the rest of the way immediately, like Cal had expected him to. It's almost like he's savoring this. Or, more likely, he's just being considerate to Cal's cunt and how much it can take all at once.

Cal can take it, though. Cal can take him. He rocks his hips backwards, getting him just the tiniest bit deeper, hoping he'll get the hint. Bode doesn't say anything, but his breath hitches, and Cal feels his fingers dig into his side. Fuck— shit— Bode's doing him a favor, he shouldn't be so selfish— but he can't help it. Bode's thick cock is, apparently, pushing out all of his brain cells in the process of making room for itself. He's being reduced to a desperate and needy thing, in a way he only lets himself indulge in when he's alone with his toys.

It's funny— Cal feels less like Bode's length is replacing his usual toy, and far more like Cal himself is becoming Bode's toy.

Slowly, surely, steadily, Bode slides further in. Cal keeps thinking that there's no way there can be more, and somehow there always kriffing is, his best friend carving a space for himself inside of Cal. When he finally, finally bottoms out, wiry hair and warm skin pressing against his ass, Cal lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding— although it comes out more like a moan.

Cal is so fucking full.

He hardly has a chance to catch his breath before Bode is shifting again— not pulling out, but getting the rest of his body even closer. Cal can feel every single burning inch of Bode’s form pressing against his own, his bare chest hot against the skin of Cal's back. He's slipping an arm under Cal's pillow and neck, and another overtop of him. Bode's bigass arm wraps the whole way up Cal's torso— like a kriffing seatbelt, ha— and Cal feels so… so small, and protected, and safe.

Cal relaxes into the all-consuming warmth of it, Bode flush against him and surrounding him wholly.

The only sounds in the room now are their shared breathing and the ever-present hum of the Mantis's engine. Bode's strong arm squeezes him briefly, like a quick hug; Cal practically melts even further into it, if such a thing is even possible, like he's just a puddle of tired limbs.

Cal holds himself back from letting out a hysteric, disbelieving laugh, but only barely. Shit, it feels like this is a dream come true.

"You okay, Scrapper?" Bode whispers, so close to Cal's ear it almost makes him shiver again.

"Guh… good, yeah," Cal answers intelligently, his voice only a little bit tight.

"Good," Bode purrs, unmistakably nuzzling into the soft hairs at the back of Cal's head. The intimacy of it all sends a rush of warmth through him. Fuck, if Cal just… forgets about the circumstances they're in, he could almost pretend that they're…

But, no. This is good. He'll take what he can get.

Cal can feel himself nodding off already, like he's kriffing trained himself to equate feeling full with getting sleepy. He clenches up experimentally, just to kind of… relish the feeling, to savor the thickness splitting his cunt open.

Fuck. How can he possibly go back to toys after this, now that he knows what Bode feels like?

Bode lets out a sound at Cal clenching down, something between a whimper and a moan, almost bitten back in time. Almost, but not quite— he's not quiet enough for Cal to have missed it.

A thought occurs to Cal. It's only fair, right? A favor for a favor.

"Bode," Cal starts, finding his voice amidst the fog in his brain. "You can… you can fuck me, if you wanna." Bode makes a small, choked noise, one that he only hears because Bode is right behind him. Worried he's been misunderstood, Cal helpfully clarifies, "you can come in me. As much as you want. I don’t mind."

"I— Cal. You can’t just say that," Bode says, the tone of his voice undefinable to Cal's sleep-addled mind.

"But I mean it," Cal says. His restraint and shyness has fallen away, replaced with a bare-hearted earnestness only achievable when half-asleep. "Might as well. Jus’… don’t wake me up, mmkay?"

"Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart. You really want me to?" Bode asks, and Cal lets out a pleased hum of approval. In case that's not enough, though, he says one last thing before he's too unconscious to speak:

"Please… want you," he says, the words nearly slurring together in his state. There. That ought to do it.

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he feels the press of Bode's lips on the back of his neck, just then.

Satisfied, Cal drifts off to sleep, his consciousness slipping away into a void-dark ocean that welcomes him with open arms. His dreams are a pleasant, hazy blend of pleasure, warmth, and the hulking body of his best friend pinning him down and having his way with him.

Cal's breaths slow and even out shockingly quickly. He's gone fully limp and relaxed, in a way that Bode's unsure he's ever gotten to see in the high-wired Jedi, let alone feel. Cal is fully surrendered in his arms.

Bode remains still for an admirably long time. He's a patient man. Has to be, in his line of work, like a stealth predator lying in wait to ambush its prey.

Even he has his limits, though, and… Cal said he could. Cal wants him to.

Bode plants kisses on the back of the boy's freckled neck and shoulder, an act too soft for how depraved what he's doing is. What he's going to do. But Cal had asked, and Bode will deliver.

He ruts forward languidly, slowly, almost lazily to start. Fuck, he's so damn tight, holding onto him like a vice. It's like he can't stand to be apart from Bode just for the split second it takes for him to draw his hips back ever-so-slightly. It’s flattering, how Cal’s eager little cunt can’t help but to try and keep him in, pull him deeper, even while the rest of him stays limp with sleep.

Sure enough, Cal doesn’t stir, beyond a little sigh.

Bode's impressed that Cal took him as easily as he did. He's not a braggart, but he knows damn well he isn't small, not in any way. He wonders, faintly, how big Cal's usual toy must be. He wonders if he's who Cal's been imagining with him, whenever he took the time to slip his toy in at night. It wouldn't be at all surprising, with the way the boy stares at him.

He runs a broad hand over the flat plane of Cal’s stomach, feeling it expand and contract with each breath in, then feeling it tense when he grinds his cock in. Cal’s hips tilt back, as if he’s trying to get Bode even deeper. It’s like his body is instinctually responding to Bode’s thrusts, shallow as they are. So being a slut does come naturally to Cal— who knew?

Bode wonders if… it's a risk he wouldn't usually take, but with Cal fully passed out like this…

It's nearly too easy to lower his guard and push up against Cal's Force presence with his own, their edges meshing together. Just as Bode's curled protectively around Cal's body, his aura does the same, blanketing the other man's sunlit warmth in Bode's cool ocean waters.

Cal's usual fire is reduced to gentle embers and stardust when he's unconscious. This is just to make sure Cal stays asleep, Bode tells himself— that's all. That's definitely the only reason he lets himself reach out. Not because Bode wants to test and see what speed and motions cause little sparks of pleasure to flare up in the boy's slumbering presence, and absolutely not because Bode hasn't touched another Jedi like this in so, so horribly long.

Fuck, it's insane how much trust Cal puts in him. It's insane how much Bode sort of likes it.

Bode smooths his hand over Cal’s side, brushing into the dip of his slim waist, before grabbing a hold of his hip. He pulls back just a bit more, thrusts in just a bit harder, and Cal lets out a quiet, breathy, distinct moan.

Bode freezes, stilling his movements. He holds his breath and listens. The boy in his arms is murmuring, mumbling, nearly incoherent, but then…

"Mmmnn, Bode…" Cal suddenly moans, his voice soft and longing. Slurred, barely intelligible, but he'd definitely just said… kark. Did Bode wake Cal up?

But… no, couldn't be. He's still nothing more than sparks and embers in the Force.

Right. Of course. Cal usually talks in his sleep— that's just normal for him. And, apparently, that includes saying Bode's name. His scrapper's crying out for Bode in his dreams.

Fuck, he can't pretend to feel normal about that.

"Yeah, sweetheart? You like my cock that much?" Bode murmurs, right near Cal's ear, his breath shifting stray strands of copper hair.

"Bode," Cal cries again, heady and unrestrained, "please…"

How can Bode say no to that? Short answer: he can't. No sane man could, not when they're already buried balls deep in such a tight, warm, fuckable little hole.

"Thought so. Fuck, knew you'd make a perfect toy for me," he growls under his breath, fucking into Cal once again. He's harsher than before, much harsher, since it evidently won't wake his sleeping beauty up; he's learned tonight that Cal can be an exquisitely deep sleeper, so long as he's given the proper incentive.

Bode presses his face into Cal’s nape, breathing him in— his citrusy soap, the ozonic scent from his lightsaber, and something else that’s just uniquely Cal.

"You're such a slut," Bode hisses, "just for me. No one else could fill you like this, and you know it."

Bode feels more than a little foolish talking to himself like he is, but then Cal cries out for him again and clenches around him so sweetly, and he quickly decides it's not foolish at all. Maybe Cal can hear him in his kriffing dreams— who knows? And besides, it's not like he'd ever get the chance to say these things when Cal's awake.

(He could, though. He could say these things to Cal when he's awake. Cal would absolutely say yes to anything Bode asked or offered— the kid's had a naive little crush on Bode since damn near day one, and thinks that they're close friends besides that. Bode could tell him to jump, and Cal would just ask how high. He's so, so damn trusting. Trusts Bode enough to let him curl up against his sleeping, vulnerable form, keeping his back to him like he won't stab it.

Bode doesn't know why this makes his gut twist the way it does.)

When he snaps his hips forward, as deep as he can possibly get in this position, Cal arches into it. His lithe body's so fucking yielding and pliant— is he always like this? Or is it just 'cause he's unconscious, that his guard is down?

Bode bets he can probably break him in, force his insides to mold to his shape, make sure Cal's perfect body always stays this good and tight and obedient…

He tightens his free arm's grip around that slutty little waist, his cock throbbing as he continues to rock forward. The tight, twitching heat is truly getting to him. He's losing his rhythm just a smidge, and his next thrust has just a bit too much force behind it.

"Nnn, ah— daddy," the boy in his arms mumbles, like the words had been punched out of him by Bode's movement.

Bode nearly freezes in place again. Nearly. Surely he heard him wrong, or it's just… wishful thinking on his part—

"Daddy, please, please," Cal sobs, louder and unmistakably this time, his voice devolving into nonsensical, pathetic noises at the end.

Bode has to stop and go still again this time, lest he come right on the spot, in a hair-trigger way he's never had an issue with before tonight. He buries his face into Cal's hair, taking a second to breathe.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Okay. No— no, this is far more than okay.

Like the skilled operative he is, Bode takes this newly acquired knowledge about his mark and adapts his role accordingly.

"Yeah, you're daddy's, aren't you? All mine," Bode groans, the words coming to his tongue so easily. "You take daddy's cock so well, 's like you were made for this."

The noises Cal's making right now sound straight out of a shitty holoporn he'd smuggled in past his Master's watchful eye as a senior padawan. If he gets any louder than this, Bode will have to find a way to shut him up, as much as he would loathe to. Maybe he can suck on his daddy's fingers without waking up…

"That's it, Scrapper, that's it, baby. You're so sweet and tight for daddy." Bode can't help the grin that pulls at his lips, his teeth bared sharp and glinting in the dimly lit room. He can't help it either when he drives in a little harder, a little meaner.

Cal doesn't mind, though, if the way he's squeezing up is any indication.

"Good boy," Bode moans, filth and nonsense still spilling from his lips without conscious thought. He's getting careless. He doesn't care. "Such a pretty slut for daddy. Gotta make you fall asleep around me every night. You'd take it so well, my good little toy."

His boy is writhing and making these breathy little whimpers, so much so that Bode once again fears Cal's woken up. He doesn't stop fucking him, though, in spite of that worry. He can't stop.

And he's so glad he didn't, because soon enough, Cal's noises come to a peak. His cunt's started spasming around Bode's length like he's trying to milk Bode's dick for all it's worth, and his presence is starlight. For a euphoric moment, Bode can almost pretend that Cal's reaching back to him in the Force— and then he goes limp and boneless again, save for his heaving breaths.

Cal… Cal just came around his cock in his sleep.

Cal just came because of Bode, and stayed asleep.

In an effort not to lose his damn mind at this fact, Bode loses all of his self-control instead. He tightens his hold and fucks into Cal brutally, chasing his own release. His hips stutter, any rhythm he had falling to the wayside, while white-hot sparks of pleasure form deep in his gut.

Fuck, his scrapper's sleep-laxed cunt is still so tight and perfect, even after coming, and Bode can't imagine how he'd feel when he's awake— and the fact that Cal kriffing trusts Bode enough to let him do this, to be vulnerable for him, it makes something in him ache— he's so close, his hips speed up, and he bites his lip so he doesn't cry out too loudly, and risk waking the precious boy in his arms— he'll never admit it aloud, but Bode's so happy, so honored that he gets to be the one who takes care of Cal, to watch his six and to patch his wounds and to care for him like this, helping him rest and giving him nothing but pleasure, and Cal's so good but Bode's not, and yet, despite it all, he loves Cal—

His climax builds up slowly, gently, and then abruptly hits him all at once, crashing over him like an ocean's wake.

Bode makes a strangled, choked-back noise when he comes, his orgasm lasting long and hard and filling up Cal's pussy with a silky, soft slick. He grinds his cock in further, just to feel his own cum around his length, and to fuck it in even deeper.

He stays inside of Cal because that's what he'd promised to do, but also to keep his spend plugged inside where it belongs. Marking Cal as his, only his, some primal part of him thinks, unbidden.

When the aftershocks wear off, though, realization followed by ice cold dread washes over Bode and takes the place of his euphoria.

He's… he's in love with Cal. He's in love with Cal Kestis.

Bode actually cares about him, about his well-being, about whether or not he's able to get enough sleep at night. At some point, and it's scaring him that he can't pinpoint exactly when, his act became far more than just an act. It became real.

Oh, Force damn him to hell and back.

Good fucking going, Akuna, you dumb bastard— you fell for it.

Whether he's done it consciously it or not— and Bode is certain the answer is not— Cal has been wearing down Bode's tough-as-durasteel walls, his self-control, inch by inch by painstaking inch. Even Bode, keen-eyed and self-aware as he usually is, as he has to be, didn't notice until now. Not until it was too late.

His cock, which had never gone fully soft, inexplicably throbs in the searing, velvety heat that still surrounds him, like a friendly reminder of his own innumerable fuckups.

Maybe…

Maybe if he fucks Cal again, he can just… forget about this realization. Maybe he just needs to— to get it out of his system.

Ha. That idea might be even more idiotic than him falling for his own ruse to begin with. He may be damn good at lying, but he's never been able to fool himself.

Still, while he's here, he might as well…

"Nnnh… more… please, daddy?" Cal murmurs sleepily, nearly inaudibly, like he's reading Bode's thoughts.

See? His boy asked so politely— it would be cruel not to.