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Earnest Truth

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Baze knew Chirrut loved him. Knew that he made Chirrut laugh more than anyone else, that he was the only one who received that one particular smile of his, the one that made his eyes crinkle and showed his gums, knew it from Chirrut’s quiet confession that had dragged out his own desperate declaration. The months since then had been much the same as the rest of the time they’d known each other, but now with hand-holding, and pet names that made Baze blush all the way to his ears, and kissing. Force, the kissing.

He’d barely believed it when Chirrut kissed him. When they’d realised that their feelings were returned they’d just held each other, laughing and incredulous, until Chirrut had looked up at him from under his eyelashes and pressed a lingering kiss against the hot skin of Baze’s cheek. He’d done it to the other side before taking Baze’s face in his hands and slotting his lips against Baze’s, lingering but chaste. Baze had been so full of happiness there had barely been room for arousal.

But Chirrut was temptation incarnate. With his smooth golden skin and his sculpted muscles and the pout of his frankly obscene mouth. Baze could hardly help himself from kissing him harder, deeper as time went on, couldn’t help but explore the gorgeous planes of his upper body with his hands and, on a few incredible occasions, his mouth. But they’d never gone further, Baze’s shyness and the shiver that ran through Chirrut every time Baze’s hands wandered, or he shifted his weight to hover over him, stopping them.

Baze was just happy that Chirrut wanted him in some way, even if not the way he did Chirrut. He knew he wasn’t like Chirrut, his muscles less defined and covered in a layer of fat he just couldn’t shift, his features cruder and his ears… well, they were noticeable, particularly with the close-cropped haircuts they’d adopted as senior acolytes. The last thing he wanted to do was make Chirrut do something he didn’t want to, and the way Chirrut never went any further than Baze himself pushed would be enough, even without the way Chirrut flinched minutely under his roaming hands. Baze didn’t think so lowly of himself to think his touch disgusted Chirrut, but it seemed clear it was hardly welcome in that area, not when Chirrut was normally so demonstrative, holding his hand and ducking under his arm to nestle into his side.

So when Chirrut pinned him against the wall just inside his quarters and stole his breath, Baze was surprised. Surprised that Chirrut was initiating something more than gentle kisses, surprised that Chirrut kissed him so determinedly. He supposed that the determination was Chirrut’s resolution to put aside his own desires for Baze’s sake. That sinking thought was enough to distract him from the heat of Chirrut’s mouth, the press of his body against him. He couldn’t enjoy something Chirrut was forcing himself to do.

He let his hands drop from where they were clutching at Chirrut’s back to his hips, drawing back from Chirrut’s lips, a low frustrated whine pulled from Chirrut as he tried to follow Baze’s mouth with his own.

“Chir… Chirrut.” Baze had to clear his throat before he could speak. “You, you know you don’t have to do this?” He hesitated, fumbling for the words. “Um, I’m okay with it? I know you um, don’t want to do, this,” he continued, looking down meaningfully at their chests pressed tight together, “with me.”

Chirrut was looking directly at him, an indecipherable look on his face.

“I know I’m not exactly attractive, I’m… I’m not like you. I won’t be offended if you don’t… um, want me…” Baze trailed off, the blankness of Chirrut’s face only supporting his suspicions.

Chirrut made a spluttering noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head, almost as if in disbelief. His hands slid up from Baze’s shoulders to take hold of his ears; that he could grasp them so easily only reminded Baze of their prominence, a sliver of shame sliding down his spine.

“You. Fool. Baze. Malbus.” He enunciated each word distinct and measured, punctuated by the slight shake he gave Baze upon each one, and then shuffled forward, erasing the deliberate gap between their hips and slipping a leg between Baze’s, so that he was straddling one of Baze’s own thick thighs. Baze felt his breath catch in his throat. Chirrut was hard against him. Chirrut was aroused and looking directly into his face with his dick against Baze’s thigh, and his leg against Baze’s dick, and he wasn’t letting Baze look away by his grip on Baze’s ears, and Baze was sure that if his blood-flow had been otherwise diverted he would be blushing even more

“Baze. Breathe.” Chirrut looked faintly amused, his lips twitching upwards at the corners to reveal his gums. He was flushed as well, his cheeks pink and eyes dark.

Baze couldn’t help but slide a hand up to catch one of Chirrut’s, bringing it down to press a kiss into the palm.

Chirrut let out a low shuddering breath before looking at Baze wickedly. And then he moved, rolling his hips forward to grind against Baze’s thigh. The moans dragged out of both of their throats were as closely tied together as they were, Chirrut’s breath warm against Baze’s face.

“You drive me fucking crazy, Baze. You’re… how can you think I don’t want you? You’re meant to be the smart one, and I haven’t exactly been subtle.”

Chirrut was frowning, a slight furrow between his eyebrows. Baze let go of Chirrut’s hand to smooth the lines on his forehead with a thumb, Chirrut’s hand settling possessive where the curve of Baze’s shoulder met his neck.

Chirrut leaned into the touch, letting his eyes brush closed for a moment. “I… I thought you weren’t ready. Or that this just wasn’t something you were interested in. I know you find it hard to say no to me, and I want you so kriffing much, I didn’t want to push you.”

Love welled up inside Baze for the ridiculous man leaning into his touch, and yes, still hard against his thigh, as some distant corner of his mind insistently reminded him.

He leant forward to kiss Chirrut, softly at first, wanting to convey everything he felt for him, but Chirrut licked into his mouth filthily and he was lost in the heat of Chirrut’s mouth, both of them breaking away only far enough to breathe.

“Please tell me you want to continue?” Baze had never heard Chirrut sound so desperate, so wrecked, panting against Baze’s neck. “Because, Force, if you don’t want to, please tell me now.”

Baze was helpless in the face of Chirrut’s sincerity, truth pouring earnest out of him into Chirrut’s short hair before he could even think to stop it. “I’ve never wanted something so much in my life.”

Chirrut’s answer was a series of sloppy, uncoordinated kisses along Baze’s neck, his hands fumbling at the ties of Baze’s tunic with none of his usual grace. He drew back with a triumphant sound, far enough to push the fabric off Baze’s shoulders, face flushed and hair sticking up slightly at the front. He looked utterly ridiculous, and the most beautiful thing Baze had ever seen. Forgoing the ties on his own tunic—tied loosely as always, Chirrut’s argument being that he worked for his muscles and people might as well be able to see them—Chirrut pulled it over his head, leaving him even more dishevelled, and stepped quickly back into Baze’s space.

Baze barely had chance to appreciate the admittedly familiar sight of Chirrut’s bare upper body before his mouth was taken again, Chirrut’s lips as demanding as his hands, travelling desperate over Baze as if a dam had broken now he had permission.

The curve of Chirrut’s waist and the lines of muscle along his sides and back led Baze’s own hands down to his ass, resting them against Chirrut’s lower back before an encouraging hum against his lips made him grab at Chirrut with both hands. He pulled Chirrut towards him, hitching him farther up his thigh, intoxicated by the feel of his hands spread wide across Chirrut’s ass, the flesh soft and yielding in comparison to the muscled leg pressing against his erection.

The noise Chirrut made, muffled into Baze’s mouth, was enough to make Baze’s cock twitch. Chirrut wriggled closer, pushing his thigh further between Baze’s.

“I liked that,” he confessed, his words slurred against Baze’s mouth, half-formed like the bubbling starblossom cakes made indistinct by the misted doors of the large ovens in the temple kitchens, like Baze’s thoughts struggling to rise against the magnetism of Chirrut’s body against his.

Nonetheless, a few managed to break free of Chirrut’s gravity.

“What did you like? This—” Baze pulled Chirrut closer to him by his ass, fingers reaching down to knead at the where the flesh met his thighs and curved inwards, ignoring the part of him that was astounded at his own daring. “—or this,” he said, grinding his hips hard back against Chirrut, biting back an embarrassing noise at the pressure.

“… both? Both is good,” came Chirrut’s reply, shuddered out against Baze’s neck. It took a moment for the words to register in Baze’s fogged mind, but laughter barked out of him when he recognised them.

“Did, did you just quote at me? Now? And that holofilm as well?”

There was a sheepish silence. “… No?” Chirrut tried, lifting his head to meet Baze’s eyes. But his lips were quivering and he quickly joined Baze in laughter, collapsing against his chest. “It seemed appropriate!”

Baze felt more of his nerves dissipate at the familiar sound. This was Chirrut, who had made it clear he wanted Baze as much as Baze wanted Chirrut, who had been his best friend for nearly as long as he could remember. And who was now walking backwards towards the bed, pulling Baze along with him by the back of his breeches, refusing to unwrap his arms from around Baze for even the time it took to cross the room.

The room spun and the bed seemed to rise up to meet his back as Chirrut suddenly turned Baze around, tripping him neatly to land sprawled across it, Baze confused as ever by how spacious the senior acolyte beds were.

“Hmm, that worked better than I expected,” Chirrut said, smugness and surprise permeating both his tone and the little wriggle as he pulled his trousers and underwear off.

Baze couldn’t respond, his words swallowed by the shadow of the jut of Chirrut’s hipbones, the scattering of hair at the tops of his thighs, growing darker around the base of his cock. He was erect, his cock slanted slightly to the side. Absently, still focused on the new expanse of skin bared to him, Baze noticed that Chirrut’s head was tilted in the same direction as his cock as he stared at Baze (and Baze tried his best not to draw back from his gaze, not when Chirrut was looking at him like he was sweet bao and Chirrut was starving) and couldn’t help the surge of affection that bubbled up inside him.

Hands that seemed to burn his skin like brands through the fabric of his trousers settled on Baze’s hips, tugging imploringly at the waistband.

“Can I?”

Baze nodded in response, lifting his hips clumsily to help Chirrut strip him bare. As exposed as he should’ve felt—as he thought he would’ve felt, as Chirrut’s seeming reluctance would’ve made him—he felt comfortable, powerful, lying sprawled naked on the bed. Chirrut’s throat bobbed as he looked at him, his hands twitching at his sides as if desperate to touch him, but still not sure if it would be welcomed.

Seeing his own insecurity reflected back on Chirrut suddenly made everything easier. Baze had always been braver on someone else’s behalf.

“Chirrut. Come here.” His words were soft but confident, but still Chirrut seemed to hesitate. “It’s cold.” Not that Baze felt it, not with desire still burning beneath his skin, but it spurred Chirrut into movement; he crawled awkwardly over Baze to support himself on hands and knees above him.

Baze let his hands rest on Chirrut’s thighs, sliding around the back to rest at the ticklish skin at the back of his knee, drawing a giggle out of him at the sensation. And then Chirrut was kissing him, laughing into his mouth, and it was like something clicked, like something had fallen into place, the way it had when Baze had finally learnt the fifteenth kata.

Chirrut drew back enough to separate their mouths, but kept his forehead against Baze’s, his smile wide and eyes ever-so-slightly crossed from trying to look so closely at him.

“Hello there.”

“Hi.” Baze’s voice was as breathless as Chirrut’s.

But then he forgot what breathing even was as Chirrut slowly, so slowly, their eyes locked the whole time, lowered himself down to rest fully against Baze, his thighs spreading Baze’s own legs wide. He rolled his hips, the same sinuous movement he’d used on Baze against the wall. Baze couldn’t stop the moan that huffed out of him as their groins pressed together, the feeling so much more intense without their clothes between them, Chirrut’s breath warm and panting against Baze’s face; his expression twisted with pleasure in a way that should be ridiculous but just made Baze pull him closer, hands frantic on the taut muscle of his thighs and ass.

For a few, dizzying thrusts Chirrut kept to the same rapid pace, the muscle in his arms corded and tense as he supported his weight. But then, contrary as ever, he seemingly found some patience for the first time in his life. He slowed the movement of his hips, grinning down at Baze.

To his mortification, Baze couldn’t help the whine he let out at the reduction of friction, using his grip on Chirrut to leverage his own thrusts, trying to increase the pace again. It had felt so good, Chirrut spread out over him, between his legs, some—but not all, not enough, some part of him thought—of his weight a comforting pressure against him. When Chirrut still didn’t speed up, Baze shifted his hands higher up to Chirrut’s back, wrapping his legs around Chirrut’s hips. The move pulled them even closer together, or would’ve if Chirrut just moved. Frustrated, Baze shifted his weight, preparing to roll them over with a grappling technique he didn’t bother trying to hide.

Instead of matching Baze’s pace again or rolling with the move, Chirrut just sat back on his haunches, drawing out of reach of Baze’s hands and removing his pressure completely. Baze would’ve felt worried at Chirrut pulling away if it wasn’t for the look on Chirrut’s face, the way he ran his hands reverently down Baze’s chest, toying briefly with his nipples.

Back up to Baze’s shoulders, Chirrut followed Baze’s arms down to grasp his wrists with his long fingers. He wrenched them up towards Baze’s head, throwing his weight forward for leverage, pinning Baze’s hands to the bed with his own, their arms bracketing Baze’s face.

Baze surprised himself with just how loud he moaned at that, the noise torn out of him by the fiery hand that seemed to seize him. Chirrut was pressing his full weight onto Baze now, holding his arms down against the sheets in a punishing grip that Baze really, really, really wanted to stay, his groin heavy, perfect pressure against Baze’s erection. His legs were still splayed open around Chirrut’s hips, one hooked lazily around his ass, the other flat against the bed, pinned down by the angle of Chirrut’s hip and one of his muscular thighs.

When Baze opened his eyes—and he couldn’t even remember closing them—Chirrut’s were dark above him. Baze watched his throat work, the swallow audible even if he hadn’t been looking.

“You… you liked that then? This?” Chirrut leaned his weight even more onto Baze, muscle turning to durasteel.

Even through the haze of heat that had descended on Baze he could feel his skin flushing, starting at his face and flowing down his neck and chest. He nodded, voice hoarse as he replied. “Um, yes. Yes.”

Chirrut’s eyes seemed to get impossibly darker, and his hips jerked forward seemingly of their own accord; the sudden friction sent Baze’s head tipping back against the sheets, hips arching to chase the feeling. “Shit, shit that’s hot.”

He leant forward and mouthed at Baze’s neck, teeth sharp in a way that made Baze shiver, before he tore away and rummaged in the drawer of the small cupboard to the side of the bed. Turning back to him with a triumphant noise, Chirrut brandished a bottle of lube like a weapon. Gasping at the sudden coldness of it squirting against his cock and balls—“Sorry, sorry,” Chirrut laughed—Baze’s gasp morphed into a moan at the touch of Chirrut’s hand around both of them, strokes smooth and slippery with the lube; Chirrut’s free hand gathered Baze’s wrists above his head, pinning him down again in a hold Baze didn’t even think of fighting.

Baze felt like he should be embarrassed by the low whimpering noises he let out, at how much he liked Chirrut’s weight holding him down. Despite how desperate he was to touch Chirrut, the hold on his arms felt so good. But he wasn’t embarrassed. Didn’t want to be. Not with Chirrut panting into his neck, his hand moving clumsily between them, talking softly because of course he didn't shut up even now.

“You’re so beautiful Baze, so beautiful, I wish you could see yourself. I’ve wanted you for so long, how could I not?”

Baze half wanted to squirm away from it all because surely Chirrut didn’t mean it, was just saying it, but Chirrut’s hand on his wrists stopped him, the idea of it more than the hold itself rooting him to the bed.

“You’re so… so big,” Chirrut almost growled. “So solid, so pretty, my Baze.”

His blush was surely brighter than a master’s robe by this point, but Baze didn’t want Chirrut to stop. Just the opposite in fact. He wanted more, wanted Chirrut to praise him and pin him and claim him, and judging by the frustrated noises Chirrut was making as he tried to get a better angle with the hand between while still holding Baze down, so did he.

“Can I, can I try something?” For the first time since he’d pinned Baze Chirrut sounded hesitant. Baze wanted to agree straight away, to promise that he’d let Chirrut do whatever he wanted, but he knew that this was important. Chirrut wanted this, Baze wanted this, and he trusted Chirrut, knew that Chirrut had to trust that he meant what he said in return.

When he tried to speak his throat felt like it was stuck. He had to clear it before he could reply, trying to make his voice sound as certain as he felt, even if he wasn’t quite sure he succeeded. “Please. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something. But everything you’ve been doing is… good. Um, really good.”

“You too.” Chirrut’s answer was reflexive, the kind that made Baze tell servers that he hoped they had a nice meal too, and it was so jarring that Chirrut’s awkward face fitted perfectly.

Neither of them tried to hold back their laughter. Chirrut was still laughing as he got his hands under Baze, flipping him over in one great heave, and Baze’s gasp at the manhandling caught him mid-peal. Then Chirrut was lying over him again, his weight spread over Baze’s back. There was a few seconds of awkward fumbling as Chirrut squirted more lube between them before he moved to hold down Baze’s hands again, already held loosely by his head, and then oh, Chirrut’s cock was hard against his ass, sliding between his cheeks.

Weight pinning him down; the friction of the sheets beneath him against his cock; the way Chirrut’s dick was rubbing along his taint, pressure against the sensitive rim of his asshole sending sparks of pleasure through him—Baze felt like one of his fantasies was playing out in real life. It felt even better than he could ever imagine. Chirrut’s breath ghosted across the back of his neck, ragged pants that Baze barely heard over his own breathing, and the obvious proof that Chirrut was into this as much as Baze made him feel bold.

“I’ve… I’ve thought about this. About you fucking me. Properly I mean.” He was going to stop there, already feeling he had said too much, but Chirrut’s hips jerked forward, his voice dropping low and hoarse.

“Me too,” he said, dropping a kiss between Baze’s shoulders, licking at the sweat beaded there. “I’m sure you’ve heard people talking, even if knowing you, you don’t believe them, but your ass is fucking spectacular. Like, Force-sent.”

Despite himself, Baze laughed. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight, like he did most of the time he spent with Chirrut, and he wondered why he thought this would be so different. “I’m pretty sure that’s blasph—” He cut off mid-word, melting into the bed at the feel of Chirrut’s teeth sunk into his neck. Scrambling for his train of thought, he flexed his fingers, cramped from where he’d been holding the sheets in a desperate grip.

“That’s blasphemous. But I can’t lecture you. I’ve spent more than one meditation session thinking about you. About… your hands and your chest and your thighs. And then—” Baze dropped his voice, making Chirrut lean in even closer, releasing one of Baze’s wrists to instead wind a hand through his hair, holding but not pulling—“I’ve gone back to my room and touched myself, thought about your dick with my fingers inside me.”

Chirrut shouted at that. He stilled above Baze, his body trembling against him, and when he spoke his voice was strained and shook just as much as his body. “If you keep talking like that I’m going to come. Like, right now.”

Baze would be lying if that didn’t appeal to him, the thought of Chirrut’s come smeared between his cheeks. He wriggled beneath Chirrut, who had seemingly managed to regain some control, if the distracting way he was running his hands down Baze’s sides was any indication, groping at Baze’s waist and thighs.

“Soon. I promise.” Chirrut’s voice was almost soothing if not for the fact his hips had started moving again, pressing Baze into the bed, and the sensations surrounding Baze were almost overwhelming. “This is… even better than I could ever imagine.”

Hearing his own thoughts in Chirrut’s mouth was reassuring in a way Baze couldn’t quite describe.

“You look—fuck—you’re all red and flushed and I’ve never seen something so gorgeous. You outshine kyber.”

“That’s definitely blasphemous,” Baze gasped, squirming desperately because it was all too much and yet not quite enough.

Taking one of Baze’s earlobes between his teeth, Chirrut chuckled evilly. “Payback.”

When he pulled back, Baze made a protesting noise in his throat, but Chirrut simply got his hands under Baze’s hips, coaxing him up onto his hands and knees; Baze felt floppy and boneless, but he used Chirrut’s hold on him to ground himself. Baze’s thighs and Chirrut’s cock were already slippery enough with lube that when Chirrut thrust between his thighs his cock slid smoothly, brushing up against Baze’s balls. After a few hard, dizzying thrusts that sent his head lolling down without the strength to hold it up, one of Chirrut’s hands grabbed at his ass instead, kneading at it like some kind of felinoid. Suddenly, he could hear Chirrut laughing, shaking with the force of it.

“I… I appreciate all of your assets, Baze, but this is definitely one of my favourites,” he choked out, somehow still managing to keep the rhythm of his thrusts in a show of multi-tasking that Baze would be jealous of if it wasn’t making him feel so fucking good.

Please, Chirrut. Just, fuck me.” Baze didn’t even care he was begging. Chirrut pulled him upright, grabbing at his chin to kiss him, a hard, claiming kiss that knocked Baze off balance enough that even if he’d wanted to resist the push on his back he wouldn’t have been able to. His face was shoved into the bed with each thrust between his thighs, Chirrut’s weight pushing him down. When Chirrut reached around to stroke him Baze felt like he was going to explode, the movements of Chirrut’s hand around his cock clumsy and out of sync with his thrusts, but still sending him closer and closer to the edge.

“Can I, can I come?” He barely managed to mumble his question into the sheets, Chirrut’s strangled “Yes,” almost lost to the rushing in Baze’s ears as he came. The feeling of Chirrut coming between his thighs, against his balls, had him spurting weakly over Chirrut’s fist one more time; Chirrut was making a low noise in the back of his throat, somehow breathy despite its solidity. Baze loved it. Loved Chirrut, loved that he’d made him sound like that, loved the feeling of Chirrut collapsed on top of him.

They lay there for what must’ve been a few minutes, Baze still lost in the haze of his orgasm, in the comforting weight of Chirrut breathing against his back.

“We need to clean up,” said Chirrut at last, reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Baze said, or at least he meant to. What actually came out was a groan that he hoped conveyed his agreement, or at least his intention to not move for approximately the rest of the year.

“I’m moving.”


“Right now.”


“… uggggggghhhhhh.” Chirrut rolled off of him with a petulant noise, dropping a kiss on his nose as he went. “You’re lucky I want to look after you.”

He came back with a damp cloth, wiping Baze clean and turning him over to finish the job, dotting kisses across Baze’s skin as he went. When he’d done, Baze pulled him close, mumbling “Come here,” into his collarbone despite the fact Chirrut had already curled around him.

“So, I’m pretty sure we just invented sex.”

“And love. Don’t forget that,” Baze yawned tiredly, nuzzling into Chirrut. His silly, overdramatic, wonderful Chirrut.

“Yep, definitely.” Chirrut’s voice was slowing too, a yawn catching him mid-word. He pulled the covers up around them, wriggling his cold, bony feet to rest against Baze’s shins. “We deserve a nap.”

Baze almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he spoke again, his voice a whisper in the comfortable silence of the room.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And, you know, want you. A lot. In case you hadn’t figured that out from all of… that.” Chirrut made a vague gesture in the direction of where he’d thrown the cloth, partially turning it into a lewd gesture as he brought his arm into the cocoon of blankets.

“I um, kind of worked it out,” Baze said, struggling not to laugh. “Now, shhhh.”

For once, Chirrut let him have the last word, closing his eyes with a happy hum. Baze let his own eyes slide closed, not quite believing everything that had happened—everything, and yet nothing, had changed. But Baze had Chirrut, in his heart, and in his arms, and the rest could be sorted out later. For now, Baze was going to sleep.