Day 1
Theme: Attraction
Prompts: ✧ armor off ✧ flirting ✧ secret glances ✧ first meeting ✧ first glimpse ✧
@clonexocweek
Word Count: 1858
Content: mentions of violence/death/assassination threats, Fox being self-deprecating, love at first sight, a sprinkle of lust at first sight, original planet/race, alternating POV
Mando'a Guide
di'kut - idiot
osik - shit
ka'ra - stars (ancient Mandalorian myth - ruling council of fallen kings)
The Princess Ieta of Kytu couldn’t be in safer hands or headed to a safer place. That’s what she was assured. She’d believed the kind Jedi Master who told her as much.
As she watched the unmoving form of the guardian sent with her to the safe house, curiosity toyed at the back of her mind.
She had heard of the valiant clone troopers, of course, and who hadn’t? It had been years since the war started, and propaganda promoting the “boys in white” had become commonplace.
She had also noticed that while the Jedi Generals had been given life and personality in the various gossip columns, the clone troopers were barely mentioned by name, if at all.
“Are you comfortable, your highness?” the clone asked, his helmet turned away from the streaking lights of hyperspace to see her over his shoulder.
“Quite, Commander,” she said, offering a kind smile.
He gave a nod. “I’m sure this isn’t the kind of transport you're used to,” he noted.
She suppressed a laugh. She wanted to tell him that her mother was a mechanic and her mom was a pilot, that she’d traveled in far less comfortable ships.
“Your concern is kind,” she answered more diplomatically. “I imagine this is far more comfortable than the alternative.”
They’d gotten the news right before they made the jump into hyperspace: the hotel room she would have occupied on Coruscant had exploded.
The Jedi knew where she was being hidden away, and the Commander, as he was the pilot, but she had no clue. She figured it was best that way.
After another few moments of making adjustments, the Commander stood, walking in front of her.
“Princess Ieta.” He dipped his head in a light bow. “We’ll be in hyperspace for another five standard days, your highness,” he said. “I’d recommend getting some rest.”
“Thank you, Commander,” she smiled.
“Your highness,” he repeated with another nod, before turning to walk further into the ship.
“Commander?”
He froze, then turned back around.
She flustered slightly under the intense, unchanging gaze of his helmet.
“Everything happened so quickly on Coruscant,” she explained. “And the thing is, I never learned anything about you beyond your rank. What is your name?
He didn’t answer for a moment, the void of his visor staring her down.
“CC-1010, your highness,” he murmured.
She blinked away a scowl. “Is that your only name?”
Another moment of silence. “Fox, your highness.”
“What a lovely name,” she remarked, smiling.
She was beginning to think Commander Fox didn’t often say much, given the pauses before he’d respond to her. Or that he chose his words very carefully.
“Thank you, your highness.”
“You don’t have to call me ‘your highness’ or anything,” she shrugged. “‘Princess Ieta’ is just a position, like a Senator, or a Marshal Commander.”
His helmet shifted at an almost unnoticeable tilt. “What would you prefer I call you, then, ma’am?”
“My name is Kara.”
Fox
As Fox made his way through the small ship into the tiny cargo bay, he cursed his life internally because, of course, she had the same name as the stars. She was quite possibly the most elegant person he’d ever seen, not to mention her beauty or her kindness, and her name sounded like a Mando’a word.
Di’kut. He needed to pull himself together. She was a karking princess.
A princess whom he was tasked with protecting for the foreseeable future, while her planet was under siege, and her life was being threatened.
He opened his kit, stretching the bed kit over a patch of the durasteel floor. The next five night cycles would be torture on his back. He wasn’t exactly a shiny anymore, but he supposed this was better than slumping forward on his desk over a cold cup of caf and an endless mass of formwork.
“Commander?”
Her melodic voice—osik, even her voice was pretty—carried through the doorway into the cargo bay.
“Yes, ma’am?” he said automatically.
“You’re not really going to sleep on the floor, are you?”
He blinked down at the bedding. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You should use the bed,” she hummed.
“That’s… kind of you, ma’am,” he said, feeling like he was walking a tightrope. “But I’ll be perfectly fine here. The quarters on this ship are for your use.”
“Don’t be silly,” she insisted. “It’s not as though I’ll be using it the entire time.”
He watched her, waiting for the punchline, but when none came, and her expression didn’t shift past the seemingly genuine concern that creased her brow, he simply nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Can I ask you to stop calling me ‘ma’am’?”
She had a good sabaac face, not dissimilar to those of the Senators he frequently worked around. If she had any deeper reaction beyond the soft smile that pulled at her lips, he couldn’t tell.
He tried not to think about the possibility of learning how to read those minute changes.
Or about the Princess’ lips.
Di’kut.
“You could, ma’am, but I doubt you’d get the result you’re looking for.”
“Hmm.” She crossed her arms in front of her, one hand lifted to rest at her lips.
Stop it.
“Ma’am?” he said after another moment.
“Hm? Oh, I was just thinking.”
A game, then, or maybe a test. Better to bite back the sarcastic comment and play it safe. They’d only known each other for a few hours.
“Ma’am?”
“I’m trying to decide whether you’re self-sacrificing or just stubborn,” she finally said.
“Can’t I be both?” came his reply before he could think better of it.
To his relief, she laughed, and the sound pulled at something inside him.
“I suppose we’ll see then,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away.
Kara
Kara swallowed down the butterflies that threatened to float up from her stomach. She supposed that if she had to be hidden away until the threats on her life were gone, she supposed she could have a little fun.
Her test went well enough; at least she knew now that the Commander had a sense of humor and that maybe if she flirted, it wouldn’t be to a duracrete wall.
The one room that was separate from the rest of the ship—aside from the refresher—wasn’t much. A relatively small bed, a crate next to it as a makeshift nightstand, and her suitcase. The unmade bed did beckon to her; she hadn’t slept for nearly three standard days.
First, she’d see how the sonic shower is, then she'd rest.
She placed her ceremonial jewelry in her luggage, grabbed a set of warm, comfortable clothing, and slipped into the refresher.
She sighed as the waves of energy washed over her, feeling her muscles relax in the warmth.
Once she’d knocked all the grime loose, she took a cloth to her face, wiping away all the makeup customary for the Princess Ieta, leaving her face its natural pale blue. She tied her long white hair back in a simple braid.
As content with her appearance as she would be for the time, she stepped out of the refresher.
It wasn’t until a strong, armored arm was looped around her waist and a helmet mere inches away from hers that she realized she’d run directly into the immovable wall that was Commander Fox.
“Careful, ma’am,” his voice rumbled through the vocoder in his helmet.
Fox
“Gods below! I’m so sorry!” the Princess gasped.
Fox shrugged. He was used to it; some of the senate aides and even some of the senators would run into the Corries like they were a caf table you’d stub your toe on. “It’s no trouble.”
“No, I should’ve watched where I was going,” she said earnestly. “I’m sorry, Commander.”
He searched her face for the emptiness of the platitudes he sometimes received from others, but there was simply nothing but apologetic eyes and flushed cheeks.
She had cleaned away the costume-like makeup she’d been wearing. The gray that brushed across her lips and eyes and the white that lined them were gone, as were the dark symmetrical lines.
In their stead was clean, pale blue skin, dotted with tiny dark flecks across nearly every visible stretch of her.
Fox felt like he was seeing her—not her, the Princess Ieta of Kytu, but her, Kara—for the first time.
And by all the gods the natborns claimed to believe in, she was beautiful.
No, that wasn’t good enough.
She was radiant. She was glorious. She was… still in his arms.
Kriffing di’kut.
“I-it’s nothing,” he reiterated, putting her upright again and pulling his arms away.
“Well,” she murmured. “Thank you for not letting me fall.”
“Of course.”
She gave a small nod and smile, and started to walk away, only to pause and glance back at him. “Commander?”
“Yes?” Kriff, his voice nearly cracked.
“You forgot to call me ‘ma’am’.”
Kriffing di’kut!
To his relief—and uncomfortable tugging at the knot in his gut—she laughed as the door slid shut.
Kara
Kara leaned against the door as soon as it slid shut. Stars, what was she doing? Her heart should not be fluttering like this. She didn’t know this man. She’d been assured of his character and good nature, but in the end, he was practically a stranger. All her instincts pointed towards exercising caution and gathering information until she could make an informed decision, and yet…
Maybe she just wanted to see where the limit lay.
She’d heard the clones were handsome, and the few she’d met on Coruscant certainly confirmed the theory. It was easy to see the ways they differentiated themselves. Different haircuts, different hair colors, different tattoos, different patterns of paint on their armor.
And that armor. Something about it drew her in, made her want to know how they looked beneath the ever-present gear. She wanted to know how he looked without it.
Fox
Fox was no stranger to insomnia. He failed to fall asleep more often than he succeeded, and when he did sleep, he was usually riddled with nightmares, but instead of the usual formwork and chaotic siblings that kept his mind busy when he was supposed to be sleeping, it was just her.
Her laugh echoed through his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her smile and the faint lilac blush that stretched over her freckled cheeks.
He was so close to her. He wished he hadn’t been wearing his bucket.
Wait, what?
That was new. He’d never wanted to be without his helmet around any other natborn before.
He’d been told by his vode that he’d get in less trouble if he could learn to control his expressions, and he had improved since he was a cadet, but he knew that he didn’t have to if he just wore his bucket.
He sat up and tentatively pulled his helmet off, setting it gently on the floor.
He pushed back the errant curls that had fallen over his eyes.
Maybe she’d like his messy hair. Maybe she wouldn’t be scared of the scar that stretched across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose—or any of the rest of them, for that matter.
Day 4
Theme: Confession
Prompts: ✧ look at me ✧ let me in ✧ whispered ✧ after a fight ✧ I love you ✧
@clonexocweek
Word Count: 211
Content: Another, but much shorter, smut chapter. Too Much Smut; Didn't Read: more sex and then the comm beeps to signal that they can return to Coruscant.
Kara
“Kriffing hells,” Fox groaned beneath her. “Kara, ‘m not gonna last if you keep that up.”
“I want it, Fox,” she panted, keeping her pace as she bounced atop him. He wasn’t painfully big, but he was long enough that riding him was something of a workout. And the depth he hit within her made her dizzy. “You gonna give me your cum?”
“Kriff, you’ve got such a dirty mouth for a princess,” he managed between grunts and moans.
She smirked, leaning forward to catch his bottom lip between her teeth, keeping her hips snapping down against his. “Cum, Fox,” she pleaded. “I need it.”
“Cyar’ika, your implant—”
“Should be good for another month,” she said. “Give me your cum, Fox. I want it inside my cunt.”
“Kriff,” Fox growled, his hands gripping her hips so hard she was certain she’d find new bruises atop the old ones. He fucked up into her, meeting her stroke for stroke. “I’m kriffing cumming—ah!”
He slammed her down against him, and she could feel it as he painted her walls with rope after rope of his seed. She groaned.
“Kriffing— kriff, you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess.”
