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Beg Your Pardon

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Bodhi fixed his door with a withering glare. He was comfortable. He was in bed. At this very moment, all the aches of the day were slowly bleeding out into his mattress. His door really should know better. And yet, the soft alert chime sounded again.

Bodhi groaned, tried to kick his blanket off, half-succeeded, attempted to get out of bed anyway, and then nearly planted head-first into the ground as he was tripped by his own blanket wrapped around his ankles. Traitor.

The door chimed again. Bodhi glared harder. He struggled to his feet and looked down, considering his own shirtless torso. Whoever it was was just going to have to deal with the fact that he was half-dressed. That’s what they get for knocking on his door at…

Bodhi looked over at the chrono. Eleven PM. Alright. Maybe not completely outside the bounds of polite society, but still, more than late enough to justify not putting a shirt on. Bodhi stalked his way over to the door and keyed it open.

A rumpled pilot in fighter-orange stood on the other side. As soon as the door opened he walked into the room, looking distracted as he ambled past Bodhi. Bodhi made a noise of affront. He was already tired. He just wanted to sleep. And now he had to deal with this...issue.

The issue’s pale skin was offset by the shadows under his eyes. His black hair was rumpled, showing distinct signs of uncared-for helmet-hair. He looked worried, with deep creases lining his forehead. He was listing slightly to one side and when he exhaled and Bodhi wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable smell of jet juice on the pilot’s breath.

“I’ve done something terrible,” the issue said, running his fingers through his hair. “Please don’t hate me.”

Well. This wasn’t the best beginning.

Bodhi looked at the pilot for a long moment, feeling exhaustion soak into his joints as he resigned himself to being awake for the time being.

“Hi,” Bodhi said, not managing to hide the frustration in his voice. “My name is Bodhi Rook. And you are?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh Force, you have no idea who I am.” He looked around, seeming to take stock of his surroundings for the first time. “I just walked into your room and you have no idea who I am.” The drunk pilot looked at Bodhi with pleading eyes, like it was Bodhi’s job to solve this particular mystery.

Bodhi cursed hotshot pilots and their uncanny ability to make shit someone else’s problem. “You could fix that, you know? You are the person who could tell me your name.”

“Wedge Antilles.” Wedge said and squared his shoulders like managing his name was some sort of major accomplishment.

“Alright, Wedge, did you actually want to tell me about the terrible thing, or just stand in the middle of my room all cryptic and ominous?”

“Shit. I didn’t tell you the thing.” Wedge collapsed, sitting down hard. On Bodhi’s bed.

Bodhi couldn’t help his groan of frustration. He stalked over to his closet, rummaged underneath his shirt drawer, and pulled out his bottle of Emergency Rum. It was a Kowakian vintage, and one of the first indulgences he had picked up after somehow living through his defection and Scarif.

You never knew when you were going to need the Emergency Rum.

“Oh, no, I don’t need more alcohol.” Wedge said, from his perch on Bodhi’s bed.

“No shit,” Bodhi said, grumpily. “This is for me. I am too sober to deal with you right now.” Bodhi unsealed the lid and took a deep drink directly from the bottle, flopping down in the chair across from the bed. “Alright, Wedge, are you ready to tell me why I’m having this conversation with you instead of sleeping?’

“I made a mistake.”

“Yes, you covered that.” Bodhi took another deep swig from the bottle, beginning to feel the warmth trace down his chest. He found himself feeling less murderous by the moment.

“Good.” Wedge lapsed into silence.

Though Bodhi wasn’t ready to rule out murder entirely. “And the mistake was…?”

“You’re the pilot. The Rogue One pilot.”

Bodhi tried to cover his wince. “No mistakes so far.”

Blaster fire and the smell of charred skin. Screams of the dying all around him and there was nothing more he could do, no way to stop, nothing—

Bodhi quickly took another drink of the Emergency Rum. When he set down the bottle and looked up again, Wedge sat there, hunched over, looking up at Bodhi through long dark eyelashes, black fringe falling across his forehead. Bodhi took a minute of wry self-reflection to realize that normally he would be kriffin’ delighted to have someone who looked like Wedge sitting on his bed.

“I named a squadron after you,” Wedge finally said.

Bodhi coughed, rum burning up his throat. “You named a squadron Bodhi?”

Wedge looked alarmed. “No!”

“Rook?”

“No! But...that’s not a bad name...no, it’s much worse.”

“I...really can’t think of anything worse than there being a Bodhi squadron. Wedge. Please. It’s nearly midnight. I am exhausted. I was in bed before you got here. Please, for the love of mercy, put me out of my misery. Why are you here?.”

“Rogue,” Wedge said quietly, looking miserable. “There’s going to be a Rogue squadron.”

The unique stink of the atmosphere ionizing, The sick green glow that whites out skin. The feeling of being translucent, of being burned away. The way the sky kicked and rolled in response to the concentrated power being poured into it. The…

Bodhi looked down at his bottle, more than willing to finish the whole thing rather than be left with his memories. His hand shook as he reached for the lid, carefully screwing the cap back on and setting it down on the desk. After a long moment of staring at the bottle, he got up, grabbed the bottle, and tucked it back in his shirt drawer.

As he pushed the drawer closed, he heard from his bed a quiet, “Yeah. Knew I fucked that one up.”

Bodhi took a shaky breath. “Rogue is just a word,” he said, not turning around. “I don't own it.”

“Bullshit.” Bodhi's mattress creaked as the pilot shifted. “It's a legacy. Your legacy. And it’s going to be staring you in the face now because I couldn't keep my fool mouth shut when the new squad got tipsy together and started brainstorming.”

Bodhi shook his head, put a small, false smile on his face before he turned around. “It’s fine. Flattering, even.”

The expression on Wedge's face indicated that Bodhi's false smile had been noticed. “No, it's not okay. It's one thing if you're dead. Appropriate. Honoring. Not if you're alive, and stuck hearing about it.”

“Well, I hope you're not planning on offing me to even out the score.” Bodhi said, edges of a real grin sneaking out the corners of his false smile. Wedge looked genuinely alarmed at the prospect. Bodhi couldn’t help but laugh a little at his face. “Seriously, Wedge, your drunk brain is just blowing this out of proportion.”

“No. I made a mistake. And I can't fix it. But I had to tell you.” There was an odd tone to his voice. Pleading. For what, Bodhi wasn't certain. Absolution, maybe.

Bodhi was tired from a hard day and shaky from hard memories, but he found he still had some kindness left in him.

He crossed the room, put his hand on Wedge’s shoulder. “I...appreciate the heads up. It's better for me to find out here, rather than in the middle of the hanger sometime. Thanks.”

Wedge looked up at Bodhi.

And.

Kriff.

Those eyelashes should be illegal. Should definitely be illegal on infuriating handsome men sitting on Bodhi's bed. Bodhi’s cock twitched, as his slightly-alcohol buzzed brain pointed out that Wedge's mouth was just about level with it.

Bodhi gave a little half-stumble away from Wedge, awkwardly twisting to sit down next to him, crossing his legs to cover any new topography in his lap.

Wedge didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. “I just feel like I should make it up somehow. You wanna name something after me?”

Bodhi chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“That means no. Seriously,” Wedge pointed a wobbly finger in the air to make his point, “there must be something. I could clean something for you!”

“We're fine, Wedge.”

“No...no...I...I could give you my holoplayer!”

Bodhi rubbed at his temples. “No...I don't need one of those. You are fine. Please, just take care of yourself and…”

“I could make you food. I set things on fire but—”

“No, no, I'm good—”

“I could find a pet for you—”

“Kriff, no, I don't want a pe—”

“Maybe a plant! I've got a ficus tree, his name is Chris, you'd love Ch—”

“Oh, stars, I would kill a plant please st—”

“I could give you a blowjob!”

“I don't need a…what?”

“I could go down on you.”

Bodhi blinked, not quite able to muster the firm denial Chris the ficus tree had warranted. “You are drunk. Please stop.”

“I could let you fly my X-Wing!” Wedge continued, not noticing the sudden lapse in Bodhi's certainty.

Bodhi rallied, “Wedge, I'm fine, really.”

“But…”

Bodhi felt the need to act quickly. The way things were heading he would be stuck with Wedge’s firstborn. “Listen, you are going to sleep this off, and if, in the morning, Sober Wedge still wants to make things up to me, we can talk about it then.”

Wedge crossed his arms. “Sober Wedge had better want to, or Sober Wedge is a jerk.” Wedge was interrupted by a large yawn. “I'll punch him.”

“You do that.” Bodhi stood up. “You know your way back to your room?”

Wedge nodded a drowsy affirmative.

“Right, I'm going to use the ‘fresher. Lock the door when you go to bed.” Bodhi beat a hasty retreat behind the ‘fresher door.

A Little Later

“Motherfucker,” Bodhi said with feeling.

Wedge, sprawled out on his bed, sound asleep, didn't twitch.

Bodhi considered his options. He could take Wedge back to his room, but Bodhi didn’t know where that was. He could ask Wedge’s friends, but Bodhi didn’t know where they were. He could wake Wedge up, shove him out the door, and hope that he was coherent enough to find his way back to his room on his own. But then he’d be vaguely worried about the upset pilot the whole evening. Besides, if he woke Wedge up he might start crying or something...the evening had been maudlin enough.

Fine.

Grumbling furiously, Bodhi crawled into his own bed, shoving Wedge’s limbs out of the way.


Bodhi took a certain amount of wrathful pleasure in watching Wedge wake up. Wedge moved from disoriented, to confused, to vaguely panicked, all before he opened his eyes. His morning seemed to get even worse as his eyes slid open, first wincing against the light, then fixing on Bodhi. Wedge’s mouth went slack as he stared at Bodhi, vague panic crystallizing into something approaching terror as he scrambled away from Bodhi, nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

Bodhi reached out and grabbed the front of his flight uniform before he could spill off the cot altogether. “Good morning. You fell asleep here. I decided it was too much trouble to wake you.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Wedge stuttered, looking around frantically. Bodhi suspected he might have ran off entirely if Bodhi hadn’t been gripping the front of his flight suit.

“Do you even remember what exactly you’re sorry for?” Bodhi was genuinely curious. Wedge’s current guilt seemed to be an all-purpose sort of guilt.

(Between his own complicit inaction in the face of the vast Imperial war machine and his unique insight into Cassian and Galen’s driving forces, Bodhi felt like he was a bit of an expert on the the many distinct vintages of guilt.)

“Not...entirely. But it's coming back.” Wedge curled in on himself slightly, a small despairing noise slipping from between his lips.

Bodhi released Wedge and leaned over the side of the bed, one hand reaching underneath. He stretched and wiggled, giving a soft “Ha!” as he hooked his fingers around the first aid kit. He flipped it open, rummaged through it, peeled off a painkiller patch and slapped it against Wedge's neck unceremoniously.

Wedge winced as the patch was applied, flinching away from Bodhi's hand. After a beat he seemed to realize what had just happened, then his whole body relaxed, giving a groan of relief as he sank against the mattress.

“Feel better?” Bodhi asked, propped up on one elbow and staring down at Wedge.

Wedge sighed. “Physically. I—” Wedge shook his head, starting to push himself up off the bed. “I’ll spare you my ongoing emotional crisis. I’ve been rude enough. I'll get out of your hair.”

Bodhi was amused by the stark difference between Drunk Wedge and Sober Wedge. Sober Wedge seemed considerably more uptight than Drunk Wedge, yet Bodhi wanted to murder him much less. He found he wanted to know Sober Wedge a little better.

“I'm not going to send you packing down the hall stinking of yesterday's booze and still wearing your flightsuit. The rumors are going to be bad enough as it is. At least use the 'fresher before you go. I've got some clothes that should fit you.”

“I really should—”

“I think you'll find I'm much better at dealing with emotional crises when I've had enough sleep. Besides, we should probably be on the same page about last night, and I refuse to do that while you smell like an abandoned distillery.” Bodhi shoved at Wedge, wrinkling his nose.

“That hurts.” Wedge sat up slowly, seemed to be testing his stability.

“The truth often does.”

Something loosened in Wedge's shoulders and he chuckled. He stood up and Bodhi tensed for a moment, thinking he would head for the door. But he just ran his fingers through his hair and shuffled off toward the 'fresher.

Bodhi heard the water start up and considered getting out of bed as well. He gave a little stretch, before burrowing back under the covers. The bed was comfortable. He'd get up soon…

A polite cough jerked Bodhi back to consciousness. Wedge stood in the middle of his room, vaguely damp, wrapped in a towel. Wedge gave Bodhi a small smile. “You mentioned clothes? I can go back to my flight suit, no problem…”

“No!” Bodhi jerked back awake and scrambled out of bed, “No, it's fine, I've got some—Ah, I'm sorry, I must have fallen back asleep.” Bodhi went over to his dresser and started combing through it, gesturing vaguely behind him. “I know I've got something in here somewhere.”

Bodhi heard a creak as Wedge perched himself on Bodhi's mattress again. What was it with that man and Bodhi's bed? After a moment of settling, Wedge said, “So, I seem to remember a majority of last night. I am sorry about...all that. Both for my dumb naming decisions and for barging in on you. And for my inability to speak clearly. And for falling asleep on your bed.” Wedge gave a soft grunt of dismay, “I'm not normally like this.”

Bodhi couldn't help but laugh a bit as he emerged triumphant from his dresser with some workout clothes. “Really, it's fine. I was annoyed last night, but I got sleep, we are good.”

“Hey, I remember. You weren't annoyed, you were shaken. You think I don't know what that's like? One of fuckin’ three pilots to live through the Death Star, the only one that evacuated early...I know what it's like to have your worst day and your best day be all mixed together, and have it be a day that people are never, ever going to let you forget about. If there was anyone who should have known better…”

“Okay, this is getting a bit heavy for this early in the morning.” Bodhi threw the clothes at Wedge, hitting him in the face and startling him out of his melancholy. “So you said something before your brain caught up. Not a big deal. It's honestly kinda nice that Drunk Wedge thought it was so important that I know. And...it means a lot that you understand.”

Wedge grabbed the clothes, looking up at Bodhi with a relieved little smile. “Alright. I do still feel like I should make it up to you.” Wedge coughed, red rising on his cheeks as he looked to the side. “Going to have to amend the list of how I am willing to go about that though.”

A sly smile crept across Bodhi's face. “Thought you might.”

“Yes.” Wedge looked at Bodhi, seriously. “Chris is a loyal friend and ficus, and I can't believe Drunk Wedge was willing to give him away.”

Bodhi laughed. “Yeah...and?”

“And I would need to get squadron leader permission before I let you take the X-Wing out.” Wedge nodded, little grin on the side of his mouth. “Yeah, I think those are the major amendments. I mean, I recognize that it's really unlikely you want a pet right now, but I'm still willing to find you one.”

Bodhi swallowed, took a few steps closer to where Wedge sat, nearly naked, on the side of his bed. “Think you might be forgetting one. Maybe there's some gaps in your memory after all?”

“Nah.” Wedge gave Bodhi a slow once over and licked at his lips.

Bodhi felt himself heat up under that gaze, something almost like anticipation prickling along his skin. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that. The last time he'd still been wearing the Imperial Greys.

“Like I said, I pretty much remember everything.” He held out his hand, crooking two fingers in the universal, ‘Come here,’ gesture. “Want to know what else I remember?”

Bodhi’s mouth went dry. “Um.” He tripped over himself a little as he walked, slowly coming within arms reach of Wedge. As he did, Wedge reached out his hand, taking Bodhi’s. He tugged Bodhi closer, Bodhi’s heartbeat pounding faster with every inch.

Wedge’s cocked his head to the side. “I seem to remember I was sitting here. And you were standing…,” he tugged Bodhi another step closer, and his voice dropping as he continued, “about here. Your hand was on my shoulder…” Wedge took Bodhi’s other hand, resting it on his shoulder again. “And I thought, ‘Kriff. He’s gorgeous. On top of everything else he’s gorgeous.’ And then you gave me this look.”

Bodhi’s mouth fell open slightly, his eyes going unfocused, overwhelmed. Wedge grinned up at him. “Yeah. That look. And I swear, Bodhi, it’s a miracle I didn’t start begging for your cock right then.”

Bodhi’s hand on Wedge’s shoulder spasmed, fingers digging into his shoulder. He found himself rather unable to speak. “Ah…”

Wedge grinned, “So no, Bodhi Rook, I don't intend to amend my list any further. I will happily suck you off.”

“Huh.” Bodhi's brain hadn't quite started working again. He looked down at his hand on Wedge's shoulder, then slowly released his grip, lifting it off.

Wedge looked a little disappointed, but let go of Bodhi’s hand almost immediately. “It’s just an offer, I w—”

Bodhi grabbed Wedge’s chin, and Wedge shut up, his eyes going wide. Bodhi ran his thumb slowly over Wedge’s lower lip. “Your mouth is beautiful.”

Wedge’s gave a shaky exhale and Bodhi felt hot breath over his thumb. He met Wedge's eyes and slowly pressed his thumb into Wedge’s mouth. Those perfect lips parted and Wedge gave a soft groan, his tongue running over the pad of Bodhi’s thumb.

The anticipation prickling over Bodhi’s skin crystallized into pure desire. Bodhi pushed himself closer, stepping between Wedge’s knees, nudging them apart and feeling the rustle of the towel against his legs. Bodhi didn’t break eye contact, Wedge stayed locked on him, brown eyes blowing wide with lust. Bodhi let the tension linger a moment longer, pressing his thumb against Wedge’s tongue.

Finally, he slowly pulled his thumb out of Wedge’s mouth, dragging at Wedge's lower lip as he did so. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Wedge’s hands came up to brush across the peak of Bodhi’s hipbones. Bodhi gave a soft grunt, hips canting towards Wedge. A small grin started to grow on Wedge’s face, “Yeah?”

Bodhi rested his hands on Wedge’s shoulders, “Yeah.”

Moving achingly slowly, Wedge hooked his fingers in the top of Bodhi’s pants. He dragged them down, leaning forward to press his mouth against the newly exposed skin. Lips chased skin down, down, until Bodhi sat exposed, sleep pants pudding around his ankles, Wedge’s breath hot against the side of his cock.

Bodhi dug his fingers into Wedge’s shoulders, seeking an anchor. “Yes. Wedge. Please.”

Wedge’s hands traced up his calves, grabbing around the back of Bodhi’s thighs. He lined his mouth up with Bodhi’s tip, sealing his lips around it, and slowly, slowly sank down.

It had been too long. Bodhi had forgotten how good this felt, the slow press of pleasure. His hands traced along the edges of Wedge's shoulders, travelling along and up until he cradled his fingers around the back of Wedge’s neck. Wedge worked him, hot and slow and, if his rumbles around Bodhi's cock were to be believed, deeply enjoying his work.

Bodhi tried to be a gentleman, keeping his hips in place and letting Wedge maneuver. This lasted until Wedge pulled off of him, mouth already red and messy, and said with a grin, “No need to be so restrained, Beautiful,” Wedge pressed an impulsive kiss to Bodhi’s thigh, “I’d like to see you let loose. I can take it.”

Then Wedge swallowed him down to the root, so quick and smooth that Bodhi couldn’t help his shout, hips jerking.

Things were far less polite, after that. Bodhi got his hands up in Wedge’s hair, shining black falling over golden brown, holding Wedge against him as he pressed into his mouth. Bodhi became aware he was talking, muttering senseless affirmations as he pushed. Bodhi's hips moved, first in rhythm, then in desperation, chasing rising pleasure that came as his awareness narrowed. Background faded out as so much noise, and the most important thing—the only important thing—was the feeling of the slide, the heat, the pressure, the—

Bodhi pulled back, “I'm going to—”

Wedge followed him forward, taking Bodhi back into his mouth, arms tightening around his thighs. Wedge worked the flat of his tongue against the sensitive spot at the base of the head, once, twice, three times…

And Bodhi came with a shout, tension releasing all at once as his cock pulsed in Wedge's mouth, his body curling over Wedge's. His hands slid out of Wedge's hair, resting on his shoulders, half embracing, half keeping Bodhi from falling over. Wedges arms were braced against the back of Bodhi's thighs, and Bodhi felt as solid as he ever had, supported and held through his contact with Wedge.

Bodhi let himself have the luxury of holding on to Wedge as he shivered through his orgasm, the slow return to reality made all the more pleasant by the feeling of warm skin against his body.

Wedge slowly leaned back, Bodhi's cock falling out of his mouth. His hands didn't leave the back of Bodhi's legs. He looked up at Bodhi through those felonious eyelashes, mouth reddened and wrecked.

Bodhi let out a heartfelt groan and leaned down, pulling Wedge into a kiss. It was an odd first kiss, Bodhi lazy with pleasure while Wedge was desperate, syrup meeting spice. Bodhi pressed his tongue into Wedge, shivered at the taste of himself in Wedge's mouth.

With one hand he reached past Wedge, fumbling until he found a pillow. He took a step back, breaking the kiss...and nearly tripped over his sleep pants. He kicked them to the side and turned back, taking a moment to enjoy the look of Wedge, breath heaving, hands resting on the edge of the bed, legs fallen apart, looking thoroughly debaucherous, only kept from total indecency by the towel tenting over his cock, somehow still covering the relevant bits.

Time to fix that.

Bodhi tossed the pillow between Wedge's legs and sank to kneeling.

“You don't have to...I don't expect—” Wedge tripped over his words at the same time his legs pushed even further apart and he slid closer to the edge of the bed.

“I know.” Bodhi said, untucking the corner of the towel and taking his turn to look up at Wedge. He smirked a little, “But if you think I'm letting you have all the fun…”

Wedge laughed, gesturing for Bodhi to proceed.

Bodhi pushed the towel off of Wedge, for a long moment just looking at him, fingers teasing along hipbones, not moving yet.

Wedge gave a little whine. “Fuck. Bodhi. Come on. Do you want me to beg?”

Bodhi grinned and leaned forward opening his mouth and exhaling, watching Wedge's cock twitch at the sensation. Then Bodhi leaned back again, meeting Wedge's eyes. “Yes.”

Wedge's eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck. Okay.” Wedge took a shaky breath, “Please Bodhi. Please...put your mouth on me.” After a slightly hesitant start he picked up, words coming faster and more frantic, “I want you so much. Kriff, you on your knees is so hot I can't think. Please, stars, I need some relief, please, pl—”

Wedge begged beautifully, Bodhi thought, as he hunched down and licked a long stripe up the underside of Wedge's cock. Wedge’s pleading choked off and he gasped, knuckles turning white as he grabbed the bedsheets.

Bodhi had never enjoyed sucking cock for its own sake. The stretch of his lips and the hot-hard-silk feeling in his mouth was pleasant enough, but hardly worth the fuss in isolation. But Bodhi had always enjoyed making people happy and there were few things that brought so much joy as Bodhi on his knees for an appreciative audience.

And Wedge was very appreciative. He was trying to be quiet and failing at it, sharp and soft noises in turn breaking through. His hips pushed forward, tipping to give Bodhi better access. He never grabbed at Bodhi, instead, one hand came up and trembling fingers ran down the side of his face, “Beautiful, you’re so—perfect, Force, you make me feel so good...I can't—”

Bodhi couldn't help pulling off and pressing a messy kiss to the side of Wedge's hand. He turned to get back to work when Wedge stopped him, hand around the back of his head as he pulled Bodhi up into a proper kiss, groaning a little as he tightened his hold, embrace awkward in this position, but genuine.

He was hopelessly charmed by this disaster of a pilot. Bodhi gave a small internal sigh. He foresaw many more nights in the future where he was stuck pushing tipsy limbs out of the way so he could sleep.

He found he really didn't mind the idea.

Bodhi pulled back, “I was in the middle of something.” He smiled over at Wedge, softening the exasperated words with amused affection. He darted back in and pressed a quick kiss against Wedge's nose.

Then the hinge of Wedge’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone, down to his chest. Bodhi wiggled a hand in between him and Wedge as he fastened a mouth around one pink nipple. Wedge made a noise that landed somewhere between a squeak and a whine as Bodhi worried the nipple with his teeth while his hand took a tight grip on Wedge and worked him up and down.

The only warning Bodhi got was a ragged gasp, the Wedge was coming, splattering all over Bodhi’s chest and thighs. Bodhi’s other hand braced around the back of Wedge, pressing tight against him. Wedge hunched over, wrapping his arms around Bodhi, burying his head in the crook of Bodhi’s neck.

Bodhi wasn’t the only one who craved skin after sex, apparently. He pressed idle kisses into Wedge’s chest as he ran his hand up and down Wedge’s back. Bodhi loved this moment, being invited into the shaking vulnerability that came with someone else’s release.

Eventually Wedge pulled his head back, giving a shamed little chuckle as he moved away. “Sorry, should have warned you, that’s a sensitive spot for me.”

Bodhi grinned. “Good to know.” He leaned forward and licking the nipple again, quick short lap.

Wedge gave a sharp exhale, pulling away. “Oversensitive, right now.”

Bodhi gave a gentle kiss of apology to Wedge’s chest, then groaned as he heaved himself to his feet, standing in the V of Wedge’s legs. Bodhi looked down at his chest, shaking his head a little at the mess there.

“Ah, I am sorry about that. Shit. Let me just…” Wedge shifted and pulled the towel out from underneath him. Bodhi held out his hand, but Wedge just shook his head, reaching up and gently working to clean Bodhi off.

Bodhi smiled in appreciation, “I’m more than willing to be spoiled, just, give me a second…” He moved around Wedge’s knee, sitting down next to him before stretching out on his back, letting Wedge continue his work.

Wedge was smiling as he leaned over and resumed his cleaning. “So...we have a bit of a problem.”

Bodhi tensed a little and looked over at Wedge. Wedge still looked relaxed, so whatever it was clearly wasn’t that big of a deal. Wedge continued, “That was supposed to even us out but then you went and gave me fantastic fuckin’ head, so we’re all unbalanced again.”

Bodhi laughed, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning towards Wedge. “Well then, Mr. Antilles, I suppose you’re going to have to try again, see if you can’t get it right next time.”

The smile that crept across Wedge’s face was small, but so honest it took Bodhi’s breath away. “Really?” Wedge asked.

Bodhi couldn’t help but smile back. “Really. I’m oddly fond of you, disaster that you are.”

Wedge ducked his head, flush rising on his cheeks again, “I swear, I’m not this bad normally.”

“Well, stick around and prove it.” Bodhi felt vulnerable, saying it so plainly. Want twisted in his chest and he realized just how badly he hoped Wedge would take him up on the offer.

Wedge looked up again—something akin to wonder on his face. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Bodhi’s lips.

“I will.”