An exert from Infiltration, a Thrawn X Reader fanfic!
Find it on ao3 here! (And Wattpad above!)
It took me a minute to find his training room, but it turns out, it's literally right next to his office. He could have told me that, I huffed, as I walked in ten minutes late. I came to a halt.
He was battling a droid, and it was not a light sparring. Actually, I realized as a droid stood up from his fallen position slightly behind Thrawn, he was battling two droids. Where did he even get these things?
He was moving swiftly, very swiftly. I was taken off guard by just how quick and elegant his movements were. His blows rang out, the impacts shoving the droid back each time. He spun, blocking the second droid's attack, before sliding across the ground. My eyes narrowed. That was my trick. When he stood up, his eyes flickered over me before halting the droids with a term I didn't quite understand. Rock? Oh, Rukh, his weird little alien, perhaps.
I assumed the people in high command posts grew soft. I could easily take Tarkin in a fight, I'm sure. But Thrawn, apparently, stayed in great shape.
"Impressive, Admiral," I commented without emotion. "I'm not sure I'm quite up to your level," I added, though that wasn't true. It would be difficult, but an all-out duel with this man would be fairly even, I thought. The droids began walking away from him as he started toward me.
"I doubt that. You're rather late," he said, throwing me his metal staff.
"You could have told me your training room was by your office," I said, spinning the rod. I watched as he went to retrieve another for himself. He walked with poised purpose, and my eyes drifted down to his slightly swaying hips, his long legs, defined in his loose, well-worn workout pants. Everything about his walk screamed self-assurance.
"I figured you knew the layout of the Chimaera," he said in his usual tone. Was that a jab?
"You've modified the ship. It isn't like other Star Destroyers."
"All the more reason for you to understand her," he said. Actually, he had me there. The fact that I didn't know he had his own training room was rather surprising. I wondered what else I didn't know about the ship. I'd have to ask Kandria to send the team the blueprints.
As he approached me, he bowed, low and slow, his eyes never leaving mine. I copied the action. Then I struck out hard. He pushed the blow away effortlessly, immediately advancing with his own attack. I twisted the upper half of my body back, only my right foot leaving the ground, letting the swing fly past my face.
We went around and around, our breathing becoming heavier. Within a few minutes I stopped my stick just short of his neck, and he came back at me with twice the force. He pushed me back, his weapon moving at incredible speeds, until I knew I had no choice but to end my retreat. The wall was approaching quickly, and I couldn't get trapped. He was learning my fighting styles, evolving his own, exactly what I'd begun teaching my team so many years ago. I, however, had expected this, and had been keeping a steady style, hiding my own abilities to evolve. And I too, absorbed information on my opponent. Learning. Analyzing. Preparing.
I feigned a hit to his head—a move I'd attempted twice already—hoping he'd react as he had both times. He did, raising his staff to push my own up and away; but this time, my weapon wasn't there.
I changed courses at the perfect second, knowing he was too far in his momentous swing to do the same. My rod fell into a low, sweeping motion, knocking his legs out from underneath him. His hand reached out unexpectedly as he fell, pulling me down with him and slamming me on my back next to him. The breath shot out of my lungs, and I tried to roll away from him, searching for my weapon. Evidently, this was no casual duel. Energy was rushing through me like an endless river, and the air was thick with his as well.
He gripped my leg and turned me back just as I saw his fist coming toward me. I laughed a quick, humorless sound and moved my head to the left, gripping his fist before it hit the soft padding beneath me. I turned his wrist, and his body reacted, turning with it to prevent the sharp pain. My knee shot out, but his other forearm reached down, protecting his abdomen. Both of us were moving at lightning speeds, not thinking, only reacting.
I released my grip on his hand and again tried to roll away, but he reached out, his forearm wrapping across my chest. His strong arm yanked me toward him in a swift, powerful movement, holding me tightly against his chest. I could feel my chest rising and falling with choppy, gasping breaths under his arm, and felt his chest doing the same against my back. Before I could react, he spoke.
"You're impressive," he said. His voice was slightly ragged, but it was smooth and sultry, and I lit up with startling, unwelcome desire. I pushed it down, swallowing hard.
"You aren't," I said, taunting him.
With a crack, my head flew back, making contact with his forehead. He made a pained grunt, and his hold relaxed. I broke it, flying out from his grasp. I rolled to my knees, but he was already in motion. He tackled me, shoving me back to the ground. Gods he was quick. His hands reached out for my wrists, slamming them into the ground with force.
Before I even grasped what was happening, his lips were on mine. My body reacted before my mind could, my chest rising to meet his unrelenting body, our lips tangling together. My mind tried to object, and for once, I ignored it completely. His lips felt so good, they were hot and soft, and to my surprise, he tasted exquisite. I wanted to eat him up, my hatred forgotten. I almost moaned, pleasure enveloping me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, entirely lost in his burning lips. The large bulge that was now between my legs sent pleasure signals through my brain as a new, aching desire swept through me.
When he made a deep, guttural sound in reaction to our new position, my eyes shot open, and I remembered where I was, and who I was locking lips with. I pulled back, gasping for breath. My eyes met his, and I noted that they were wide and alive with passion. My body twitched involuntarily at the sight.
I tried to move my wrists, but he was still holding them tightly. He grinned, then pulled off of me, standing up. He reached down, helping me to my feet.
"What was that?" I asked, my eyes narrowed. My heart was racing, and I was aware of the warmth pooling between my thighs.
He leaned down and picked up my stick, before moving to his retrieve own. My eyes scanned his body as he turned and walked toward the rack at the other side of the room. My chest was still moving in quick, rough breaths, though it was no longer due to the intensity of the duel.
"I'm not sure yet," he said, his back to me. Again, my own body betrayed me, reacting to both his voice and his words. After he placed the weapons on the wall, he turned, heading toward the door.
"I need you and your team in conference room one in thirty minutes." He looked me up and down. "I'd suggest you shower," he said. I gawked at him, but he turned and left. I stood there, frozen. What the hell just happened? And why had I enjoyed it? And why was I left feeling empty now that it was over, and he was gone?