He wasn’t jealous. Baze Malbus didn’t get jealous. He had better things to do with his time. He certainly didn’t think about Chirrut Îmwe’s mouth, or how good it would look wrapped around his dick, or how satisfying it would be to fuck him speechless, make those lips fall slack as he thrust deep inside him.
Maybe he thought about that a little. Not often. Only when he couldn’t sleep.
He definitely didn’t think about Chirrut taking others to his bed, or the noises he sometimes heard.
“Ask him to your bed,” Qrsa said bluntly one morning, and Baze inhaled oatmeal.
He coughed and sputtered as Jutlo pounded him on the back, skin mottling with alarm, until he could breathe again.
“I’m not—no. I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?” Qrsa looked puzzled, feelers flicking inquisitively.
“Because—” Because I don’t have experience. Because I don’t know what to do. Because he’d laugh at me. Look at him. Look at me. There’s no way. Because he never beds the same person more than once, and I want— “It doesn’t matter. I’m just not interested.”
Jutlo’s skin darkened to confused magenta. “But you are. I can smell—”
“Okay,” Baze interrupted. “I have to go now.”
He pushed away from the table and stood. Dodging around acolytes, he finally won free of the breakfast crowd and into the hall, where he drew a breath.
He had classes to attend, lessons to study, but all he could do was think about Chirrut. He was going mad, he thought distantly.
“Baze, wait up!”
Just what he needed. Baze stifled the groan as Chirrut hurried toward him, tucking his robes into place.
“Spar with me?” he asked.
“I have class,” Baze said bluntly.
“Fine,” Baze snapped. “After fourth bell.”
“Staves or hands?” Chirrut asked as Baze joined him in the center of the dojo.
“Hands,” Baze said. “Let me warm up—” Chirrut’s weight bowled him backward and Baze landed on his shoulders with a thud that knocked the air from him.
He bucked and dislodged Chirrut’s grip enough to work an arm between Chirrut’s thighs to break his hold. Flat on his back, Baze twisted his hips and managed to sling Chirrut over his head.
Scrambling to his feet, he spat dirt and glared at Chirrut, who was grinning as he rose.
“Your enemies aren’t going to wait for you to warm up,” he said, and circled Baze, hands up in the first position.
“You’re an asshole,” Baze muttered, and rushed him.
The skirmish was quick and dirty and before Baze knew it, Chirrut had him pinned in the soft dirt again, a knee between his shoulder blades and one of Baze’s arms pulled up behind his back.
“Don’t fight angry,” Chirrut said in his ear. “Get your blood up and you forget to think. You have to use your head.”
He let go and Baze rolled back to his feet, shaking out the kinks in his arm. This time, he took a deep breath and allowed the irritation to drain from him like water through sand, leaving him clearheaded and wary.
“Good,” Chirrut said.
“You can’t see me,” Baze couldn’t help pointing out. “How do you know?”
“Your breathing changed,” Chirrut said. He brought his hands up again and beckoned.
Punch, block, parry, dodge—Baze fell into the rhythm and let his muscle memory guide his hands, ducking and weaving until he landed a blow to Chirrut’s ribs that had him staggering backward, a hand against his side.
Baze bit back the instinctive apology at the smile blooming on Chirrut’s face.
“Good,” he repeated. “Again.”
Baze forgot the frustration itching at his skin, the worry that he wouldn’t pass the third duan, the confusing maelstrom of emotions he felt whenever he heard about another of Chirrut’s conquests, and lost himself in the give and take of the sparring, blocking or diverting Chirrut’s blows and even sometimes landing one of his own.
When the fifth bell rang, Baze barely heard it, but Chirrut danced backward, disengaging neatly and dropping his hands.
Baze straightened and looked up, coming back to himself. He was pleasantly tired, covered in sweat and dirt, muscles burning with what he’d put himself through.
“Come on,” Chirrut said, slapping Baze’s shoulder. “Let’s get clean.”
The showers were empty, which Baze was distantly thankful for, in the small part of his mind that retained rational thought. The rest of him was consumed with stealing surreptitious looks at Chirrut’s lithe form as he stripped off and dropped his dirty clothes in a careless pile.
Chirrut’s body was golden brown, kissed by sun and dotted with freckles that Baze itched to explore, the muscles sliding under his sleek skin as he turned on the water and stepped under it.
“Just gonna stand there, or are you gonna join me?” he asked, eyes closed and face tilted up into the spray.
Baze swallowed hard. “I—what?”
Chirrut held out a hand.
Wordlessly, as in a trance, Baze took his clothes off and stepped into the shower stall. It was cramped, the little room not built for two, and Baze nearly choked on his tongue as Chirrut turned and pressed himself up against Baze’s front.
“I—oh gods, Chirrut, I don’t—”
“You want me,” Chirrut said, looping his arms around Baze’s neck. “Maybe even as much as I want you.”
“More, probably,” Baze whispered, hands coming up to cradle Chirrut’s waist, and Chirrut laughed, head falling back to expose that swanlike throat.
“Not sure that’s possible,” he said when he’d sobered. “But what’s holding you back? Why haven’t you made a move?”
His body heat was distracting, the wet slide of his chest and thighs against Baze’s making him harden helplessly, and Baze struggled for words through the haze of arousal.
“I’m—I… Chirrut—wait. What do you mean, ‘not sure that’s possible’?”
For the first time, Chirrut looked startled. “Have you not seen yourself, Baze?”
“Don’t mock me,” Baze said. He let go of Chirrut’s waist and took a step back, bumping into the shower wall as frustration welled inside him. “I know I don’t compare, okay, I’m stocky and plain and boring, just—forget it.”
Chirrut caught his arm as Baze tried to turn. There was horror on his face.
“Baze. How could you think—”
Baze pulled his arm out of Chirrut’s hand but Chirrut made a noise and reached for him, catching Baze’s face and pulling him down into a scorching kiss.
Baze gasped into it, opening for his mouth as Chirrut went on tiptoe, arms around Baze’s neck again and wet fingers in his hair.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against Baze’s mouth.
Baze tried to shake his head but Chirrut caught and held his chin, pressing between his lips again with quick, soft sweeps of his tongue.
“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated as he broke the kiss.
“You’re blind,” Baze said, almost laughing.
Chirrut hummed. “You’re the blind one if you can’t see it. Let me show you.”
“We’re alone,” Chirrut pointed out.
“Yeah,” Baze said, rubbing his face. “But someone could walk in.”
Chirrut pulled away again. He looked thoughtful. “You’re right. Besides, I think I’d like to lay you down and appreciate you properly.”
Baze shivered, and Chirrut grinned.
The next few minutes were a confusing jumble of dragging clothes onto wet bodies, laughing and shushing each other, Chirrut groping at Baze as he struggled to tie his pants and Baze batting his hand away, muffling laughter.
Then they were hurrying down the hall toward Chirrut’s bedroom, Baze’s hand in Chirrut’s, allowing himself to be towed along.
Chirrut tugged him through the door and kicked it shut behind them. He didn’t give Baze time to examine the space he found himself in, pushing him up against the closed door and capturing his mouth again with a growl.
Baze went with it, Chirrut’s hands all over him, making his head spin and groin throb. Chirrut pulled his tunic up and off, then peeled Baze’s pants down, damp from the shower, and dropped it all in a sodden heap on the floor.
Naked, Baze fought the urge to cover his belly, his chest, his thick thighs, but Chirrut barely paused. He went back on his toes for another kiss that Baze gave willingly, flattening his hands on Baze’s chest.
“Bed,” he husked. “I need to memorize you.”
Baze shuddered all over and stumbled for the bed as Chirrut yanked his own clothes off and then caught up to him, crowding him backward until Baze sat down hard on the mattress.
“Chirrut,” he gasped. “Chirrut, wait, please—”
“What is it?” Chirrut asked, lifting his head. “Are you alright?”
“I’m—” Baze swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally said baldly.
Silence fell and Baze closed his eyes in mortification. Of course Chirrut wouldn’t want to—long fingers touched his face and Baze looked up as Chirrut stepped between his knees.
“Are you telling me you’re a virgin, Baze?” he murmured.
Baze gulped and nodded against Chirrut’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he managed. “I didn’t mean to—”
Chirrut gently covered his mouth. “Are you sure you want me to be your first time?”
Baze felt his eyes widen and he nodded, quick and urgent.
A smile spread across Chirrut’s face. “Lucky, lucky me,” he whispered, and bent to kiss him. “Let me make you feel good, Baze. May I?”
Baze couldn’t breathe for the arousal careening through him, but he managed another nod.
“If you need to stop,” Chirrut continued, “for any reason, just say so, okay? It can be a lot to process.”
“Okay,” Baze said. “Please will you kiss me again?”
Chirrut laughed and cupped his upturned face, peppering kisses across Baze’s nose and cheeks. “Gods above and below, you are so beautiful, I can’t believe I get to do this.”
Greatly daring, Baze ran his hands up the backs of Chirrut’s thighs, feeling the firm muscle and crisp, curling hairs.
Chirrut’s mouth settled on his again, softer this time, less aggressive. There was wonder in the way he explored Baze with lips and tongue, and Baze closed his eyes and sank into it, like a stone through clear water.
He went willingly when Chirrut pushed him gently onto his back and settled above him, between Baze’s spread knees.
“I—what do you want me to do?” Baze asked, a little helplessly.
“Lie back and enjoy this,” Chirrut said. “Let me learn your body. Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” Baze managed.
A smile lit Chirrut’s face and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Baze’s pectoral. “You are so solid,” he murmured against the skin. “You’re my favorite to spar with, you know that?”
Baze shook his head. “Why?”
Chirrut moved across Baze’s chest and kissed the tip of his nipple, then sucked it lightly into his mouth, making Baze jerk. It was a minute before he let go with a wet pop and blew on it. Baze jammed a hand against his mouth to muffle the noise.
“Don’t,” Chirrut said, moving to the other nipple. “I want—I need to hear your noises, Baze, please don’t hide them.”
Baze groaned, deep in his chest, as Chirrut bit down, then laved the sting with his tongue. He was so hard he ached, balls tight and begging for release. It took him a minute to realize Chirrut hadn’t answered his question, and he fought his way through the fog.
“Why do you—ah—like to spar with me?”
Chirrut splayed a hand, hot and solid, across Baze’s ribs. “Feel that?”
“The fat?” Baze asked.
“Under that,” Chirrut said. “Pure muscle underneath. You’re an oak tree, Baze, impossible to uproot. You could toss me around like a sapling if you ever let yourself embrace your own strength.”
He sat back between Baze’s knees again, hands on his inner thighs. He smoothed his palms over the tender skin, clearly delighting in the way Baze shivered at his touch.
“Chirrut,” Baze managed. “I think I’m dying.”
Chirrut’s laugh was beautiful, bright and clear, and any other time, Baze would have delighted in it. As it was—he ached.
“No,” Chirrut said immediately. “No, I want to.”
“Then will you get on with—ah—”
Chirrut’s mouth was there, engulfing the head of Baze’s cock, blazing hot and wet, and Baze couldn’t help the buck of his hips.
Chirrut gagged as Baze’s shaft hit the back of his throat and he swallowed around the intrusion.
Baze swore, thick and filthy, and reached down to wipe the tear from Chirrut’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he managed. “I didn’t—”
Chirrut hummed, the vibration rocketing through Baze’s body, and wrapped his fist around the bottom of Baze’s cock, stroking in time with his mouth.
It sent lightning rippling along Baze’s nerves, pleasure gathering in a molten ball at the base of his spine, and all too soon, his back bowed and he fisted his hands in the covers, unable to even gasp a warning before spilling in heavy spurts down Chirrut’s throat.
Chirrut swallowed it all, eyes closed, and gentled Baze through the aftershocks in slow strokes, until Baze collapsed back onto the bed and dragged in air.
Only then did Chirrut let Baze’s softening cock slip from his mouth to press sloppy kisses along the shaft, paying special attention to the head, running his tongue along the ridges and dipping it into the slit until Baze twitched, overstimulated, and pulled Chirrut up and into a kiss.
He tasted his release on Chirrut’s tongue, sharp and bitter, and it stole the breath from his lungs, that Chirrut wanted this, wanted him, somehow found him desirable—beautiful, even.
Chirrut was heavy on top of him, the hard length of his erection caught in the groove of Baze’s hip, and Baze cradled the back of his head and pulled him closer as Chirrut rolled his hips with a bitten off gasp.
“Do you think,” Chirrut managed, breaking away and dropping his face to the crook of Baze’s neck, “do you think some time you’d be willing to fuck me?”
Baze groaned and reached down to grasp Chirrut’s ass, fingers biting in as Chirrut thrust against him. “Gods, yes,” he whispered.
“I want—Baze, can I—”
“Anything,” Baze said, almost drunk with exhilaration, “anything, Chirrut, what is it?”
Chirrut broke away briefly and lunged for a small tube on the nightstand Baze hadn’t noticed. “I want—here, put your legs together.”
Baze obeyed and Chirrut slicked up his own cock and then settled on top of him and slipped his shaft between Baze’s thighs.
Baze caught his breath at the look on Chirrut’s face and pressed his legs closer together as Chirrut rolled his hips down.
“Oh,” Chirrut gasped. “Oh, Baze, I—”
“Is it good?” Baze whispered.
Chirrut dropped his face back to the crook of Baze’s neck, breath puffing hot on his skin. His voice was muffled when he spoke.
“So good,” he groaned. “So—Baze—so beautiful, so perfect, I can’t—”
“Let it go,” Baze crooned. “Let me see it.”
Chirrut stiffened and his shaft pulsed wetly between Baze’s thighs, hips jerking in helpless thrusts. His breath was ragged as he collapsed on Baze’s chest, shoulders quivering with the force of his aftershocks.
Baze stroked his hair, tenderness filling him. Chirrut panted in sharp, short breaths, sprawled in a boneless heap over Baze’s body, and it was a while before they stirred.
Finally, though, Chirrut lifted his head enough to kiss Baze’s jaw.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for giving me that, Baze.”
Baze swept his hands along Chirrut’s sides, feeling muscle over bone, and smiled.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” Chirrut said, pressing another kiss to Baze’s jaw, then down his throat.
“How long?” Baze said.
Chirrut hummed against his skin. “Ages.”
Baze laughed, cupping the back of his skull. “Will it be awkward between us, now?”
“Why would it be?”
Baze lifted a shoulder, suddenly unsure. “I just meant… because I know you don’t ever bed the same person twice, will it bother you, to spar with me now?”
Chirrut pulled away so abruptly he fell off Baze’s chest. Startled, Baze propped himself on his elbows as Chirrut scrambled to his knees beside him.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Chirrut said. He put a hand on Baze’s chest, splaying his fingers wide. “Remember?”
Baze cast his mind back. “The—oh. When you said you wanted me to—f-fuck you?” He could feel a blush rising in his cheeks, but Chirrut smiled, wide and beautiful. He leaned in, close enough Baze could feel his breath, but not quite touching.
“I want you, Baze Malbus, for as long as you want me back,” he whispered.
Baze closed his eyes briefly, overcome. “That’ll be… a very long time,” he said, and caught the back of Chirrut’s neck to pull him down the rest of the way, feeling Chirrut’s laugh against his mouth and reveling in it.