#savanto

[wantonwhale]

Preview: Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

(Smut-adjacent; abuse of safe words)

“No marks above the uniform,” Eli said more firmly than he'd ever said anything to the admiral.

It was a low bar.

Savit grabbed Eli roughly by the hair and dragged his face up toward his—but never quite to his level. “What, think that alien can't smell me on you?” he asked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Maybe it couldn’t.

Eli glared at him and Savit relented, releasing his grip. “Fine,” he said, brushing his hands on his white tunic. “If you’re good, I won't have to leave any marks.”

That was banthashit and they both knew it.

Savit tilted his head at Eli’s hardening expression, a knowing smile curling his lip. “You know your safe word, Lieutenant Commander,” he chided. “Perhaps try using it for once, yes?”

Eli did know it.

It was the word Savit had assigned him.

It was a safe word in name only, really, because it was also the one word Savit knew Eli would never, ever use when they were together like this:

Thrawn. 

But all the same, Savit always fucked him like he was trying to rip that name from his throat like he dragged music out of an orchestra.