If Catcher hadn’t known any better, he’d swear his General might be flirting with him.
He’d gotten chummy with the little woman ever since he’d been assigned to her squad. They were drinking buddies and occasionally, she came to him with complaints about how she thought the GAR was treating him and his brothers unfairly. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do about it, but he listened to her and let her vent when she’d come off of the battlefield half in tatters because she’d lost too many men. This one was a real piece of work, honestly. She didn’t seem to accept the idea that he and the other clones were meant to be war fodder. They’d been constructed to simply be tossed out onto a battlefield and die. They didn’t have the same rights as everyone else and they likely never would, even after the war ended. But hell if his General didn’t fight tooth and nail to keep every single kriffing one of them alive whenever possible.
It was actually kind of attractive.
She would lead charge no matter what the field plan was and she had wicked fast reflexes with that damn laser sword of hers. Not to mention what she could do with those little Force fingers. Catcher had seen her do this weird thing once where she threw her arm in the air and lifted about five B1 clankers off their feet, and then clamped her hand closed and crumpled those bolt buckets like they were made of paper. It was terrifying—yet fascinating—to watch. It’d had the rest of the squad talking for the rest of the night about what else she might be able to do with those abilities of hers. Some were tame and battle related; others bordered on being obscene and probably would have had them reprimanded if the wrong ears heard them. Catcher had remained relatively silent on the matter. He didn’t know how he felt about these Jedi and their wizard powers.
He had noticed that his General had strange behavioral patterns at times. She tended to be relatively docile around him, but if she got around General Skywalker she became an agitated mess. Those two were like a pair of pissed off cats, always circling each other and spitting vicious things at one another. And then—when they thought no one was watching—they would shoot each other these funny looks. He’d noticed that Skywalker tended to follow these looks up with little bumps to her person or the occasional tug to her hair. His General often responded with more blatant actions like the pass of a hand over his crotch while she walked by him—something that often caused the younger man to stalk after her like a damn predator—or bending over just enough in her blacks and Jedi robes combo to taunt the little bastard. She just about taunted every other warm-blooded male in the room while she was at it, but it was always Skywalker who was the main target.
Unless she was pursuing Kenobi.
That was a curious situation. His General often went very starry eyed around the much older Jedi, gazing at him and sopping up every little bit of attention he wanted to give her. He, in turn, seemed quite generous with his time when he was able to spare it—which didn’t seem to be as often as she would have liked. There were moments, Catcher had noticed, where he would literally stop everything he was doing and steal her away to Maker knew where. It usually happened whenever they’d come back from a particularly rough battle and his General seemed to be in a bad way. She would be stomping around with fire blazing in her eyes and Kenobi would come in and scoop her up and she would return hours later, sweet and soft and absolutely littered in lovebites and bruises. Catcher did not want to make any assumptions about anything that went on between her and either one of these men, but as time went on he found himself becoming more and more annoyed by this behavior.
It got worse when she started wearing the armor.
He had gotten used to her wearing the blacks beneath one of those weird cloth things that looked like a thick ribbon that had been crossed wrong. A tabard was what he was sure she’d called it. And then she slowly started adding pieces to her collection. It started with the bracers, then the boots, then the shoulder pads and bicep gauntlets. And then she started wearing the thigh gauntlets and knee pads and damn near everything but the torso plate and he’d started to lose his damn mind. He didn’t know if it was knowing that she could haul around the extra forty kilos on that petite frame of hers that did it, or just the sight of her packed into it—the outfitter had done some serious adjustments for the thigh gauntlets and the pelvic guard—but Maker, it made it difficult to concentrate. The kicker was that she still wore that stupid piece of cloth criss-crossed over her chest like it did anything to help. She’d left herself wide open for both enemy shots and the pervert brain of every damn trooper on the squad—himself included. Chatter of what she might look like without the top half of the body glove and just that stupid piece of material circulated and put images into Catcher’s mind that he couldn’t get rid of. It took over a week for him to look her in the eye again.
She still haunted his damn dreams like nobody’s business, though.
Things always started out innocent and then escalated into such filth that it had him waking up in the middle of the night ready to fuck a hole through a durasteel wall just to get some damn relief. He always had a hell of a time trying to deal with it quietly, too. Jacking off in the middle of a barrack full of his brothers was not only uncomfortable, it just felt wrong. He’d sometimes visit the showers or the refresher to get his business taken care of, but it wasn’t the same as what he wanted. What he wanted was to know what the warm weight of that woman felt like on top of him and just how soft those sweet thighs of hers were. He wanted to know if her tits truly made the perfect handful like they appeared they might and whether or not she tasted as sweet as she smelled. And that damn mouth of hers—Maker. He could crank himself off a few times just thinking about what it’d be like to feel those lips around his cock.
He always felt like such a sick fuck when he was done. Like he knew he shouldn’t think these things about such a sweet girl. But Catcher knew that girl had a side to her that was anything but sweet. He’d seen glimpses of it when she got around Kenobi and Skywalker and he’d seen it out on the battlefield. Hell if he didn’t want to see it for himself personally. He would never get the chance to. He knew that for certain. Jedi tended not to stray from their kind, it seemed. Something about attachments, according to the Captain. Although—there was the curious case of General Secura, but Bly insisted their relationship was purely platonic. She was apparently in love with some Nautolan Jedi and was just taking her sexual frustrations out on her Commander. Catcher thought the bastard ought to consider himself damn lucky. There were a lot of men in this army who would pay for even five minutes of General Secura’s attention, sexual or not.
General Tacor was no different, really.
“You look tired,” the soft, too sweet purr in his ear sent a chill down his back to a place that really didn’t need to be awake at a time like this. “Are you going to be ready when I need you, Commander?”
“Yes sir,” looking up from his meal tray to find the brunette standing just a bit too close, Catcher gave as professional of a smile as he possibly could, watching as she lowered herself onto the bench beside him. She had no meal tray. She reached over and helped herself to a piece of the breakfast biscuit sitting in one of the compartments of his instead. He was not going to stop her. Those pretty green eyes of hers watched him as she chewed the stolen food, a smile spreading across her lips before she gave his shoulder a bump.
“What’s her name?” Her brows gave a wolfish sort of wiggle and Catcher almost choked on the bite of toast he’d taken.
“I beg pardon, sir?”
“Oh come on,” slinging her leg over the bench to straddle it, the Jedi General propped her chin in her hand and broke off another piece of the biscuit. “I see this look all the time from the other Troopers. You’re all terrible for running around and breaking hearts, you know. Some women actually do look forward to waking up next to a warm body.”
Catcher didn’t say anything, but he did slide the meal tray closer to her to offer the rest of the breakfast biscuit to her. She took it and gave him one of those adoring smiles of hers that nearly made some sort of beastly sound rumble in his chest. Fuck, she was a pretty one. He turned his eyes away when she started eating as not to appear rude, and grunted when she gave him another nudge.
He wished she wouldn’t say his name like that. It always went straight to his dick and it always made it damn difficult for him to think about anything other than what other sorts of tones he might be able to get her to say it in. Sucking his teeth, he shifted his gaze back to her and offered a light smirk.
“I don’t kiss ‘n tell, Little Bit,”
“You’re no fun,” she made a face at him and stuffed what was left of the biscuit into her mouth. He turned away again so he wouldn’t think about how her cheek looked crammed full of food like that and shut his eyes to try and think of something—anything—vile enough that would make it easier for him to get up and walk away from the table. He did not expect her to scoot up closer to him and he certainly did not expect her to nestle her chin on top of his shoulder. He wished he wasn’t wearing the top half of his armor. It would be more comfortable for her and he’d be able to feel her warmth better through the blacks if he didn’t have the plastoid shell on. “She must’ve been fun if you’re this tired.”
He almost laughed outright. If she only fucking knew.
“Well, I should get going,” she stood suddenly and gave his chest a pat. “I have to meet with Master Kenobi for a quick briefing before we ship out.”
Ugh. He could feel his lip curling at the thought. She definitely noticed. Slender fingers suddenly slid up the back of his neck and into his hair, making him twist in his seat to look up and find her eyeing him with one of those damn soft looks of hers. She didn’t say anything, just gave his hair the tiniest tug as she let out a soft hm before letting go and stepping away.
“I will see you at the hangar,” she called, sounding nonchalant as ever. “You better have your head where it’s meant to be, Commander.”
“Yes sir,” he watched her as she left, damn sure that she was putting a little more sway into her step than usual. When she was gone, he blew out a harsh breath and scrubbed his hands over his face, cussing quietly. He had no idea what the hell that was about. Chummy or not, the girl typically kept her hands to herself. There had been the odd occasion when they got drunk together when she’d give the hoop in his ear a playful sort of flick, but she’d never gone and tugged his hair like that. Shit, he was going to have to take a quick trip into the refresher and get rid of this damn problem she’d left him with before he had to show up for duty. Doing what he could to readjust behind the codpiece, he got to his feet and grabbed his meal tray to take it up to the dish line before pivoting on his heel and walking straight out of the canteen to the shower hall.
Well, this could not have gone worse.
Catcher had been right where he was supposed to be, right up against General Tacor’s side with his DC-15S at the ready. She’d had that damn laser sword of hers out and she’d stepped in front of him, waving it around to keep him from getting hit by oncoming bolts. He’d shot around her and helped annihilate the oncoming onslaught of clankers. They’d done pretty damn well as a team, he thought. And then they had gotten separated because she moved faster than he could think sometimes and she’d ended up on one end of the battlefield while he remained on the other. There’d been a flood of enemy fire and he had found himself trapped in the middle of it. He was lucky he hadn’t died. Whatever the hell she’d done hadn’t killed him, but it’d fucked him up real good. Catcher couldn’t remember much other than bright bolts of red streaming across his vision and a nauseating tugging in his gut as he was dragged clear across the space that separated him from his General. He’d snapped his wrist somewhere along the line and taken a bolt to the shoulder. Really—he considered himself lucky, considering the alternative.
Now he was stuck up in medbay where the droids occasionally popped their metal heads in to see if he required anything. It was always the same damn answer to the same irritating question: no. He had his IV of whatever the hell was in the clear pouch and he was fine with just the pitcher of water that was just a little out of his reach. He hated the idea that his brothers were left to finish the job by themselves without him, but he would enjoy the peace and quiet of the sectioned off bed for at least a short while.
He was half asleep when he felt the edge of the bed dip like a cat had hopped up onto it.
Groaning, he lolled his head to blink the bleariness from his eyes and almost shot straight upright when he found his General perched beside him. She had little bruises on her cheek and the sorriest look in her eyes as she looked him over, lips pursed lightly in regret. She didn’t seem to notice that he’d opened his eyes until she had brought her gaze back to his face and she drew in a deep breath once she had.
“I am so sorry Catch,” oh—she did not need to sound so sad. “You weren’t behind me anymore. I got scared. I didn’t mean to drag you around like that.”
“Hey,” yeah, he could’ve used that water he couldn’t reach. “It’s all right, Little Bit. I’m alive, eh?”
“I got you shot.”
“I’ve been shot before.” He probably shouldn’t have been so nonchalant. It seemed to upset her even more. “Come on now, General. You probably saved my damn life by not leaving me out in the open like that.”
She did not look very convinced. Breathing out a sigh, Catcher sat up as much as he could without disturbing the bruises on his back and fixed her with a look.
“What’s this all about, hm?” He tried to smile as gently as he could but he wasn’t sure if his features changed much. The damn drugs they’d given him were pretty strong. “I’ve been hurt out there before. You know this.”
“It wasn’t my fault before.” He wished she wouldn’t do that damn thing with her mouth. It was hard to focus on being serious when she had her lips all pushed out and pouty like that.
“I was the one who wasn’t paying attention,” he chuckled weakly and shrugged. “I failed to follow orders, sir. I did not have my head where it was supposed to be.”
“Where was it?”
“Where was your head, Commander?”
“Well—I mean…” reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, Catcher scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It was on the battle, sir. I just couldn’t keep up with you. You move so damn quick sometimes it’s hard to stay so close, you know? I can’t keep my mind on the fight and on you at the same time, sir.”
“You don’t have to keep your mind on me, Catcher. That’s my job. I keep you safe.” That pout had turned into a mean little frown and her eyes had gone narrow right along with it.
“With all due respect, sir…” this one really boggled his brains sometimes. She was so sensitive when it came to protecting him and his brothers when she really ought to have been thinking about herself. Catcher and the other Troopers knew what they were for and why they were here. It was this one who seemed to have such a huge problem with accepting it. “That’s absolutely not your job.”
If it were possible to mix a frown and a pout into one solid expression, General Tacor was a master at it. She sat there giving him such a pitiful look that Catcher nearly reached his good hand out to touch her face and try and soothe her. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t stupid. He didn’t know how she’d react to such a thing and he honestly didn’t know how his body would react to it, either. Every damn bone in his body could be shattered and his dick would still find some reason to rise to the occasion for her. Maker, she had him scrambled something fierce.
“But you’re my Commander,”
And there was that fucking tone again; that soft, saccharine purr that perfectly complimented her Coruscanti lilt and gave it just the right amount of kick to really stir something deep in his pelvis. He loved it and he loathed it at the same time. He was pretty damn sure she didn’t use this voice with Skywalker or Kenobi. No—she saved this one just for him. It drove him absolutely thermal to think about.
“And you’re my General,” he really needed to get to that pitcher of water. He was starting to sound like he’d been swallowing rocks. “You outrank me, sir. You’re more important when it comes to coming off the battleground in one piece.”
She got up from the bed then. Sprang up, really. Looking like an irritated cat with her eyes all narrow and her shoulders bunched up near her ears, Catcher half expected her to try throwing something at him. She gave him this watery sort of look and kicked the wheeled leg of his hospital bed before turning to storm out of the room, taking the soft smell of roses with her. Funny how she never seemed to lose that scent even after hours of pouring sweat out on the battlefield. When he heard the door to the medbay open and slide shut, Catcher settled back on the bed with a groan and rubbed his good hand across his face. Great job. He’d gone and pissed her off. Now she was probably going to track down one of the two bastard Jedi aboard this starship and take her frustrations out on them. Ugh. He didn’t want to think about it. Looking around for the call button he’d been given, he found it and pushed it and waited for the nurse droid to wheel itself over and peer around the curtain.
“I think I need another dose of those painkillers.”
He really wished she’d stop visiting him in his dreams.
She was so fucking soft and needy and damn compliant when she really wanted something from him. He’d hear her making sweet sounds in his head; say his name in that stupid tone of hers while he was balls-deep and had her pushed up against one of the fighters in the hangar. He could practically feel the heavy drag of those wicked nails of hers down the back of his neck sometimes and the sharp cut of her teeth in the side of his neck as she wrapped those lush thighs around him and whimpered that he was going to make her come.
And then he’d jolt awake in bed sporting an erection that throbbed like a fucking toothache. Tonight was no exception. It had taken him a minute to get his bearings and to realize the reason his head was swimming wasn’t because he’d had a few too many shots of rum. The damn painkillers were strong, weren’t they? Strong enough to make him not want to bother with hobbling off to the refresher or the shower hall to take care of the problem. Catcher felt a little dazed as he flipped back the blanket on his lap, dragging the hospital trousers out of his way and just barely remembering not to use his dominant hand to grab his cock. Fuck, this was going to be a damn chore without his good hand. Whatever. As long as the stupid medic droid stayed on the other side of the room and didn’t bother him, he didn’t give a single fuck.
It was hard to keep the growl from rising in his throat when he squeezed his fingers around the fucking thing, though. What the hell had she done to him this time? It just seemed to get worse every damn night. He was not friendly with himself as he worked his hand in slow, hard motions, honestly just wanting a bit of relief so he could get the fuck back to sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a full night that had gone uninterrupted by this shit. When working himself dry became irritating, he spit into his palm and tried again. This time, he was unable to help the sound he made and he stopped dead when he thought he heard the droid on the other side of the room make a chirping noise. He waited to hear the sound of its damn wheel approaching but when nothing happened, he started up again.
This was a little better. Not great, but he doubted he’d be able to find anything worth lubing up with in here. He was not using bacta salve. He’d heard a horror story or two about some idiot brothers of his who’d tried that and apparently it did not work the way it was supposed to. Plus, there was the smell. He was not about to run around with a dick that smelled of pineapple. Spit would do. Spit and the new collection of imagery his dreams had given him. Maker, she’d been wild this time. Something about being pissed off really kicked that woman into being a bossy, bitchy little thing that called every last shot and made demands of him that he’d been more than happy to meet. Catcher wasn’t much for being terribly rough with the faceless women he’d had encounters with but damn. Just damn. Little Bit could manhandle him like that any damn time she wanted as far as he was concerned.
He probably should have cared a little more that he was breathing as heavily as he was, and that he’d started making more noise than he’d initially meant to. But he was on the edge of a damn good orgasm when he brought his thumb to his mouth to wet it and rub it along the head of his cock the way his General seemed to like to do with her tongue. He was fucking himself into his palm, grunting and growling her name like a damn animal, when he happened to crack his eyelids and found a familiar pair of green eyes peeking at him from behind the privacy curtain. He really didn’t mean to make the sound he did but his body had decided to betray him then. The boiling pressure at the base of his spine rushed through him at the sight of her and came straight out of the end of his cock in hot spurts that landed on his belly. He couldn’t fucking stop moving his damn hand. Even when he started softening and each stroke was so sensitive it almost hurt; it was like he’d been put on autopilot.
Those sharp green eyes watched him for a moment or so longer before they turned away and left. He heard footsteps, then the door, and then he was letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Fuck the Maker. He had to wonder how long she’d been standing there, how much she’d heard. Never mind that—she’d fully seen him make a fucking mess of himself and heard him whimper like some kind of sad adolescent. That thought made him wonder how the hell he was supposed to clean up. It seemed a little rude to use the fucking blanket. There was a box of tissues near the pitcher. His body wasn’t in so much pain anymore. He could reach it if he shifted around enough. Going for it, he grabbed the box as well as the pitcher so he could finally get a damn drink of water into him. Snagging a small handful of tissues, Catcher grumbled at himself for being such a fucking idiot. What the hell kind of sick, depraved fool continued touching themselves in front of their General like that? What sort of sick, depraved fool jacked off to their General in the first place?
Huffing out a breath, he shook his head and tossed the tissue towards the trash bin—thankful he wouldn’t have to get up to actually put it inside when it neatly landed inside of it. Picking the pitcher up, he took a long drink and then tugged his sleeping trousers back up over his hips. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back to sleep tonight. Not without seeing those damn eyes of hers. Fuck. How the hell was he supposed to face her, now? Was it too late to be transferred to a new squad? For all he knew, she’d gone to complain to Cody to do just that. Thumping his head against the pillow, he contemplating calling the droid back over for more drugs and then thought better of it. He didn’t deserve the bliss of a drug-induced sleep. He deserved to wallow in this suffering for being such a foul pig. He would just have to force himself to sleep on his own and accept that he’d have to face whatever consequences came of it in the morning.
“What did you do to the General?” Karver asked when Catcher had been discharged the next morning.
“Eh? What are you talking about?” He’d been given a small medical relief of three days. Not the longest stretch of time, but enough to give his wrist time to stop feeling so damn sore whenever he moved it. Right now, he didn’t give a shit about the wrist. He was worried about what his brothers might know about what’d happened last night. “I didn’t do anything.”
“She went into medbay looking like she was two steps from crying last night and then came back out looking like she was ready to murder a man.” Karver shot his brother a look and smirked. “You didn’t go and tell her you weren’t important enough to pull off the field, did you? Coz you should know better than that, brother. That really sets a fire under her ass and you know it.”
Well, at least it didn’t sound like anyone knew about the other thing he’d done in medbay last night. That was something of a relief. Shaking his head, Catcher waved a hand and frowned.
“She’s gotta learn sometime that we’re not on the same level as these Jedi. Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment—I do. It’s nice to know at least someone gives a shit about us.” Working his jaw, he discreetly glanced around the canteen to see if he could spot her. Usually she was in here before him, mingling with some of the other Troopers or silently patrolling the center and outer walk area. She didn’t appear to be here at all. “She just gets so damn upset about it. I thought Jedi were supposed to be emotionless?”
“Dunno, man.” Karver turned his hand up and tilted his head, studying him. “General Skywalker seems to allow himself a bit of feeling out on the battlefield. It’s only natural, really. S’rough out there sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Why wasn’t she here? Had he really fucked up so badly that she’d flat out avoid him? Not that he’d blame her. He wouldn’t want to be around the bastard he’d caught saying his name while cranking one out.
“You good, brother?”
“Eh?” Looking back at Karver, he got a raised eyebrow and a concerned look.
“You seem out of it.” After a moment, the other clone smirked slowly. “You’re afraid you upset her, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’m still coming off the painkillers. Head’s a bit jacked, is all.”
“Oh come on,” jabbing an armored elbow into Catcher’s side, Karver chuckled quietly and flat out grinned. “It ain’t no secret that you’ve got eyes for the General. We’ve all heard you in the can. Oh, yeah—Little Bit. That’s good.”
“I’m gonna knock your fucking teeth out.” Catcher didn’t know whether he was mortified or pissed off.
“She’s in her quarters.” Still snickering, Karver turned back to his meal tray and took a large bite of his breakfast biscuit. “If you really want to apologize, just go talk to her. You’ve got more allowance to do so. You’re her Commander, after all.”
Getting up from the bench with a growl, Catcher swatted the back of the other man’s head and ignored the way he swore at him. Fucking nosey bastard. Now he had to wonder how many of the others had heard him and whether or not any of the chatter had made it to the higher ranks. It wasn’t as though it mattered; as long as everyone kept to business, most people were willing to turn a blind eye to whatever the Troopers—and sometimes the Jedi—got up to. But Catcher would have preferred to have kept this to himself. Maybe he ought to lop his damn hands off and ask for some kind of honorable discharge. No. That wouldn’t work. They’d just fix him with some kind of cybernetic replacement and send him back out like nothing had happened. It really wasn’t worth it. As he made his way down the corridor leading to where his General had taken up roost, he wondered if this was going to be worth it. He didn’t exactly know what to say to her. Hey, sorry for using you as spankbank fodder just didn’t sound right. Heaving a sigh when he found himself outside of her door, he raised a hand to knock and waited.
Taking the invitation, Catcher tapped the button to open the door and stepped in.
“General Tacor, I was hoping—” he stopped dead, feeling his jaw go slack when he spotted her. Standing in front of him in what appeared to be just that wide-sleeved wrap-around outer robe she wore on top of the other ridiculous layers of Jedi clothing, his General looked up at him with expectant eyes. She had her hair down. He’d never seen her with her hair down. It damn near hit the hem of the robe. Shit, the hem of the robe barely covered her ass—her bare ass. Those sweet, creamy thighs of hers that haunted him in the late hours of the night were on full display. The lightest little bruises ringed the tops at a strange angle and it took him a moment to realize that maybe the gauntlets hadn’t been modified as much as he’d thought. She had the stupid beige thing belted, but there was just enough of her tits on display to give him a good idea of what they’d look like without the linen covering them. Damn—damn. It had been a fucking terrible idea to come here.
He couldn’t unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He made some kind of stupid noise instead and waved his hand like an idiot, letting out a rush of breath as he tried to tear his eyes off of her and put them anywhere else in the room. The wall seemed nice. There was a weird dent in the side of it. He wondered if it’d been there for a while or if she’d thrown something and put it there.
His eyes flicked back to her like a magnet and found her with her hands propped on her hips. He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or concerned. He was trying too hard not to look anywhere but her face. The sway of material near her waist brought his gaze down long enough for him to realize that she was wearing panties. Where the hell was the back of the damn things? It’d looked like her entire ass was out.
“Sir,” he coughed out finally, wondering if she could tell that he was having a hard time breathing. “I wanted to apologize for… my behavior.”
“Your behavior?” Now she looked amused. That soft little mouth of hers quirked at the corner and she raised an eyebrow before crossing her arms. “What have you done now?”
“I…” Had he been seeing things? He’d been pretty fucked up on the drugs. For all he knew, he’d imagined seeing her in his room the night before. There was something about the look in her eyes though, like she was expecting him to say something specific. And he swore he’d seen her glance down at least once. Maybe he wasn’t crazy? “Sir… I didn’t mean to upset you yesterday.”
“I know how you feel about us clones and our purpose,” it was a little easier to breathe once he started talking about this sort of business. “I should have been a little more careful about what I said to you. I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate the things you do for us, sir. I do. I truly do. And I owe you a big one for saving my ass out there yesterday.”
The look in his General’s eye bled into something so gentle and awestruck that it made his chest tighten a little. That was new. Normally all of her cute faces went straight downward. But she stared at him with such a sense of adoration and wonder on her pretty face that it actually hurt to look at her. After a long moment of silence, she seemed to flinch and come back to herself, blinking a few times and turning her eyes to the floor.
“You don’t owe me anything, Catcher. You know that.” Oh—okay. He’d never heard that sort of roughness in her tone before. He wasn’t quite sure if she was going to cry or if she just needed to clear her throat.
“Can’t you ever just call me Iza?” There was that little pout he loved so much. She looked so frustrated with her brows knit together like that and her lips pushed up under her nose. “At least Little Bit is cute. I feel weird making you call me sir all the time.”
“It comes with the job, Iza.” He smiled slowly, unsure of how he felt letting her name roll off his tongue quite yet. He’d said it before, of course. Just not to her face.
“There is no one else in this room but us,” she threw her arms out to her sides and the panels of the robe slipped a fraction, exposing a sliver of her belly to his eyes. “You may drop the formalities.”
“Yes sir—Little Bit—Iza.”
“Yeah?” He was looking at that dent in the wall again. Fascinating thing, it was. You’d really have to whip something at a ridiculous speed to dent durasteel like that.
“Why don’t you seem to have an issue saying my name when you’re about to come?”
He was pretty sure someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. Someone had screwed with the airlock and the cold vacuum of space was about to kill them all. It would be so much kinder than what was actually happening right now. He’d hoped—prayed, even—that he had just been hallucinating. Those hadn’t been her eyes he’d seen. They were just a figment of his drug addled imagination. He’d wanted her so bad that he’d gone and visualized her standing there to watch him lose it all over his stomach like a fucking animal. But as he stood staring at the fucking dent in the wall of her sleeping quarters with her standing mere meters away in almost fucking nothing but a damn smile, he knew he was wrong. He was so, so wrong.
The press of hands against his chest startled him back to attention and he found that she’d crossed the room and was just a little too close now. He could smell her. That sweet, floral perfume of roses and something headier; like sweat but cleaner. Oh—he knew the scent of an aroused woman anywhere. Sweet merciful Maker—what had he caught her in the middle of?
“Breathe,” that teasing look was back. “You don’t want to have to spend another night in medbay, do you?”
He shook his head, finding that he’d been struck dumb once again. How did she do that? He was a damn soldier for fuck’s sake. He had seen some vicious shit—done some vicious shit—and yet this plush, petite devil of a woman could render him absolutely useless. Fuck, she was warm. She wasn’t even leaning on him and he could feel every last bit of her body heat through his greys. She could definitely feel the way his heart was racing in his chest, couldn’t she? Shit. He wished he knew how to control that.
“You need to sit before you pass out,” and then she was grabbing him by the front of his jacket and pulling him over to the bed. She sat him down at the edge of it and he almost melted into the touch of her hand when her fingers slipped into his hair. Maker—he was done for. Between being at eye-level with her pretty thighs and having her use such an affectionate touch, he was a lost fucking cause. His fate was sealed when she threw one of her legs across his lap and settled down on top of it, smiling as though this was the most normal thing she could ever do. It was nowhere near normal for a Jedi General to plant themselves in the lap of a Clone Commander so casually. Especially not when said Jedi General was barely clothed. Catcher heard himself make a pained noise and watched as a concerned look flickered across her face and she started lifting herself off of his legs.
“No—” he didn’t mean to reach for her like that. He didn’t mean to sound so damn desperate, either. Catcher was sure he looked like some kind of pathetic bastard making a move like that.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” She stayed hovering above his lap, looking conflicted. She hadn’t batted his hand away, he’d noticed.
“Trust me sweetheart,” Catcher laughed breathlessly and shook his head. “You haven’t.”
His General worked her jaw for a moment before she gingerly settled back down, shifting a little closer. Her concerned look softened into something more curious as she reached and started playing with the silver buttons holding his jacket shut. She seemed determined not to look at him, at least for a few minutes.
“You’re very gentle,” she said quietly, popping a few of the snaps near the top. “Most people would have just grabbed me.”
“I’m not most people,” he watched her as she worked the snaps open, beating back the wave of jealousy at the mere mention of most people. He didn’t want to hear about anyone else touching her. He already had to watch her flirt with Skywalker and Kenobi. That was enough. A brow quirked on his forehead when he noted the way she appeared to be fighting a smirk. Tilting his head to try and look at her, he gestured at her face. “What’s that for?”
“Nothing,” she shook her head and pressed her lips together even more, eventually pulling them downward in a forced frown that looked very amused. “You do know I can feel every shift in your emotions, right?”
Fuck the Maker. How could he forget that? These damn Jedi were demon wizards.
“That right?” He sucked his teeth and tried to focus on watching her get him out of his jacket. He didn’t know why she wanted him out of it, but if she wanted to take it off, she was free to take it off.
“Mm,” she’d reached the last snap and gave it a tug to pop it free before sliding those warm hands of hers across his abdomen. Catcher was pretty damn sure he purred. He made some sort of throaty noise he couldn’t describe. Whatever it was, she seemed to enjoy it. “I know when you’re happy and when you get jealous and when you feel sad.”
He wanted to argue that he never felt sad. It would be a weak one made up of some macho bullshit just to try and save face. He and his brothers were not supposed to wallow in those kinds of feelings, but sometimes the losses took their toll. She shifted on him again, moved in closer and moved her weight higher on his thighs. Her tricky little fingers found the hem of his under-tunic and started stroking the skin beneath it in slow passes that burned.
“I know when you get turned on, too.” Her pretty green eyes had tiny flecks of gold in them, he realized. Funny—they’d been close like this before and he’d never noticed. He couldn’t tell whether or not the smile on her lips was meant to tease or chide him. “You’re a horny little fuck, Catcher.”
Catcher choked on his next breath, unsure if he was supposed to laugh or not. He felt a swell of something that could have been shame but he wasn’t sure. He knew he was definitely on the embarrassed side. But there was something about hearing her talk like that that got to him. Had he ever heard her swear before? He couldn’t remember. Maybe when they were out on the battleground or if she was ridiculously drunk. But she certainly never said any shit like that.
“Are you all right?” She’d stopped petting his skin and was looking at him with genuine concern now. Man, she was pretty. Nodding like an idiot, he smiled and found himself leaning down to gently bump his head with hers. It was such a stupidly affectionate move. She was probably expecting him to kiss her. He would get to it. This felt more appropriate to do first. Like an instinct he couldn’t suppress.
“I’m fine, Little Bit,” he said as he leaned back, taking in that look of wonder she was giving him for the second time now. “Just watching.”
“What was that for?” Her voice was barely a whisper and she seemed so stunned that he wondered if he’d done something wrong.
“I’m sorry.” Catcher didn’t know what else to say. Even with the filth she’d spit at him, he hadn’t been able to help giving such an affectionate gesture. He started questioning whether or not he’d overstepped a boundary. Maybe she wanted to be the one to make all of the first moves and he’d just ruined that for her. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted him to interact with her at all. Catcher didn’t have much of an issue if she wanted to just sit on his lap and touch him. He wouldn’t have let her get this close if he didn’t approve.
“You…” she looked so lost staring at him like that. What had she expected out of him? That he was just going to see her dressed the way she was and turn into some rabid beast? Sure—his brain had gone to filth. It always went to filth when he saw her. But that didn’t mean he would go feral and jump her. Catcher liked to think he had a little more tact than that. “You’re so gentle.”
“You’ve said that, sweetheart,” he couldn’t help chuckling at her. He kind of felt bad that she seemed confused. Maybe she would’ve responded better to a kiss? “Is that a bad thing?”
“I…” she started to shake her head and shrug like she didn’t know how to answer. There was a look on her face like she wanted to say something but was holding back for the sake of not pissing him off. Yeah—he got it. Most people wouldn’t be so sweet with her.
“Do you not want me to be gentle?” It was a fair question. If softness triggered such a startled response from her, then maybe he’d just have to adjust to what she liked instead.
“No. Yes. Wait—” Holding a hand up like she needed a minute to gather her thoughts, the brunette shut her eyes and exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to stop.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable, Little Bit?” Another fair question, he thought.
“Not uncomfortable,” she shook her head. “Strange.”
“It doesn’t feel like just sex.” Well, at least she was honest. “I’m not used to… emotion.”
Ah. There it was. That was why she stuck with the Jedi. They could provide all the fun without any of the worry of attachment. And here he was, about to ruin all of that for her. It kind of made him feel like an asshole, honestly. He didn’t want to be the cause of any confliction for her.
“Do you want it to be just sex, Little Bit?” He didn’t know when he’d put his hand on her thigh. Her skin was just as soft as he’d imagined it would be—softer, even. As he swept his thumb in a slow arc across the surface of it, he watched about five different emotions flicker across her face before something unreadable settled in her eyes and she did that stupid frustrated pouty thing with her mouth.
“That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Catcher was pretty sure his eyebrows just about shot off of his forehead. That had been the last thing he’d expected to hear her say. He wanted to argue back that he didn’t really care much about fairness. He was pretty happy to just have the opportunity to be here like this with her at all. He was sure she knew that, if her talk of how she could feel all of his emotional shifts was true. Humming quietly, he lightly tapped his thumb against her thigh and flashed a faint smile.
“Guess we’re in a bit of a situation, eh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he adjusted himself on the bed, leaning back on his elbow when he realized using his bad hand to brace himself was a stupid idea. Looking at her from this angle was fucking torture. Especially when she was still giving him that conflicted look of hers. “I want to adjust to your needs, and you want to adjust to mine. We have to find some middle ground here, Little Bit.”
“I don’t want to deprive you of your feelings, Catcher.” She moved up on him again, settling dangerously close to the aching bulge at the front of his trousers. An inch or two more and she’d be nestled right up against the damn thing. “It’s unfair for me to ask that of you.”
“Do you really think I’ve never had emotionless sex, sweetheart?”
“How stupid do you think I am?” Bitch switch flipped. “I know it isn’t just your dick that is happy to see me when I come into a room, Catch. I told you—I can feel it when you’re happy and when you’re jealous. You think I haven’t noticed the very specific moments those emotions come into play? You think I don’t feel bad about it sometimes? I don’t want to put that sort of feeling into you.”
“You don’t want to make me happy?”
“No—that’s not—I do not want to upset you.” She tugged at his under-tunic in frustration and frowned, all traces of that pout completely erased. “It ruins my whole day when I know that I’ve done it. I cannot apologize for having needs, Catcher. But I’m sorry that you have to bear witness to the courting that takes place before it.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me for anything.” He hoped she couldn’t feel the weird pressure weighing down on his chest. Catcher didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it. “I have a basic idea of how this Jedi shit works. No attachments. I assume it means you’re supposed to stick to bedding each other for the sake of convenience. Not a big deal, sweetheart. I get it.”
“You don’t have to worry about me and my feelings. If it’s sex you want, you can have it.” He turned his hands up and smiled, hoping it wasn’t as bitter as it felt. Man—what the fuck was wrong with him? “I won’t be gentle anymore. I’m sorry if it caused any confliction for you.”
“I need them.”
“Excuse me?” Catcher really didn’t want to hear about how she needed Skywalker and Kenobi right now. If anything was going to make him go soft, it would be that.
“Your feelings,” Thank the fucking Maker. “I need them, Catch.”
He felt the confusion twisting his features and hoped she’d elaborate. When she simply sat there and stuck her bottom lip out at him, Catcher sat up again and lifted his hand to her cheek. She had a scar here; he vaguely remembered how she’d gotten it. One of their first battles together. Commando droid. He’d taken a nasty hit to the face from it—the scar ran deep along his chin—and she’d lost her damn mind. He’d been told she ripped it apart with her bare hands, a feat her Jedi Master was known for. She’d been clipped in the face with the shrapnel and left with the jagged-edged little dip beneath her eye. A badge, as his brothers would call it. Running his thumb over the mark, he tilted his head at her in silent question and almost flinched when her fingertips traced the deep line etched in his chin.
“I don’t want it to be just sex, Catcher,” she leaned into his touch and gazed up at him, a soft frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I want to be able to feel the things you feel.”
“You trying to tell me you want me to feed some kind of emotions addiction, Little Bit?” He was teasing. It was meant to just be a jest. But when she looked at him like she’d been slapped, he felt like an absolute asshole. Shaking his head, he leaned in and gave another one of those affectionate bumps to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so cruel.”
“I know you didn’t,”
“What do you need, Little Bit?” Still stroking his thumb against her cheek, Catcher smiled at her fondly and raised an eyebrow. “Coz I can fuck you into next week or I can keep being sweet to you. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Can you do both?”
He laughed outright, turning so he wasn’t cackling in her face. Dropping his head forward as he gave it a shake, he poked his tongue into his cheek and heaved a sigh. Looking back at her, he didn’t even bother trying to hide his amusement.
“Greedy thing, aren’t you?” He gave her chin a light pinch and watched her shrug.
“You’re the one asking what I need. I need both of those things.” She’d definitely mastered the art of nonchalance, this one. “What do you need, Catcher?”
“I’m a very simple man, sweetheart,” there was no way he could keep from trailing his eyes up and down her form. “You’re pretty much supplying everything I need right about now.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. She just seemed to study him with those sweet green eyes of hers before letting out a quiet noise and moving up higher on him again. Catcher could hardly help himself when he realized she was shifting up to straddle his hips and he hoped he didn’t look like a fucking idiot when she settled right down on top of the erection in his military slacks. He really didn’t mean to grab her thigh the way that he did and he certainly hadn’t wanted the helpless sound he made to come out of his mouth. He shouldn’t have cussed at her, either. That was probably a little rude. But she was all sweet smiles as she made herself comfortable with a light wiggle of her hips—devil; she was the fucking devil—and rested her hands on his chest again.
He said something unintelligible and did his best to pull as much air into his lungs as he could. It wasn’t easy. Every time he moved he could feel the tiniest shift of her weight and it drove him nuts. Still, she just smiled at him like she was pleased with herself for having turned him into a mess like this.
“Am I too heavy?” She asked after he still couldn’t seem to get his breathing to even out.
“Fuck no,” Catcher shook his head and kept his hand anchored on her thigh as though it might keep her from moving. She seemed reasonably pleased with this too. That cat-like smile of hers only grew as she tilted her head and gave the tiniest forward nudge of her hips, making him growl and set his jaw as his fingers sank deep into the supple flesh of her thigh.
“I’m surprised the codpiece can hide this.” What a fucking brat. “Did they have to adjust your armor, too?”
“You better watch your mouth, Little Bit,” he had to let go of her before he added to the collection of bruises on her skin.
“I’m paying you a compliment.”
“You’re fucking with me, sweetheart.” Catcher laughed quietly and let his fingers twist in the hem of that silly robe she wore instead, another growl rising in his throat when she rocked forward a second time. “Since we’re on the subject—I see the armor isn’t very friendly to you, is it?”
“I manage,” she shrugged, sparing a quick glance to the tops of her thighs. “I do prefer the freedom of just the blacks, though.”
“Apparently it’s indecent to walk around without the lower armor, according to Captain Rex.”
A wide grin spread across his face before Catcher shook his head. Ah. So he hadn’t been the only one taking notice of the General and the way the body glove fit her. He couldn’t blame his brother for looking—though he might have a word or two for him for asking her to pour herself into the damn armor.
“What? Why are you smiling like that?”
“It’s only indecent when you’ve got choobs to show off, Little Bit,” he snickered, pursing his lips in an attempt to keep the grin from widening further. “I think the good Captain was getting distracted.”
“Distracted by what?”
“Oh—sweetheart,” either she honestly had no idea or she just wanted to hear him say it. “You do know how you look to the rest of the galaxy, right?”
“I have some idea, sure,” the brunette looked as though she didn’t understand what it had to do with anything and Catcher found it extremely endearing. For a woman who had no issue using her body to taunt, she sure as shit seemed blissfully ignorant about why it was so effective. “But I still don’t see what that has to do with me needing to wear lower body armor.”
“You’re very soft, sweetheart,” he pulled her closer to him as he said it, hoping she wouldn’t take offense. “The blacks show off everything as it is. It’s very hard to concentrate on business when you’re walking around with all your curvy bits jiggling. And you also have a set of thighs that look like they could crush a man’s skull.”
“Maker,” dropping his head to her shoulder, Catcher let out a harsh breath that bled into a laugh. “You’re a horrible tease.”
“Do you want me to crush your skull with my thighs, you weirdo?” She laughed, running her fingers along the back of his neck. He fought against a shiver and picked his head up to look at her.
“Not really,” he paused, and then— “But I’d still like to put my face between them, if you don’t mind.”
“And why would I mind?” She’d gone and scratched her nails down his neck, drawing a soft groan from him that he’d been unable to stop. At this point, Catcher had nearly given up on preventing any of the noises from coming out of him. He was just a little worried she’d go and think he was overly sensitive or something. Shrugging a shoulder he gave her what was probably a dumb looking smile and leaned in to—once again—affectionately bump his head against hers. This earned him a tiny giggle and a curious look. “Why do you do that?”
“Headbutt me like that.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, I think it’s cute,” she smiled and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I just can’t tell if you’re coming in for a kiss or not so it throws me off when you do that instead.”
“I don’t know why I do it,” it was an honest answer. Catcher hadn’t really been able to figure it out himself. He’d just had the strongest urge to keep giving these tiny little nudges against her forehead whenever his feelings got the better of him. Part of him wondered if it had anything to do with his genetic makeup. There was a lot he didn’t know about the man he’d been cloned from. The Kaminoans hadn’t really brought them up to speed on a ton of Mandalorian customs. Maybe this was one of them? Who the hell knew? “I’ve never had the urge to do it until now, honestly.”
She was giving him that sweet little look again and it put such a damn ache in his chest that Catcher didn’t know what to do with. Was this what it felt like to have a crush on someone? Maker, how juvenile. He knew he admired her for her combat skills and the way she so valiantly threw herself in harm’s way for the sake of keeping him and his brothers alive while fighting for galactic peace. It was blatantly obvious as well how he felt about the sight of her body—but he enjoyed her company, too. They’d been buddies first, after all. He couldn’t quite remember when it’d escalated to him noticing that she had an ass that looked like a peach or that her legs could probably kill a man. But he’d always thought she was pretty. She had a sweet smile and was always kind even when she had to put her General Boots on and be tough for the squad.
“What are you thinking about, Commander?” Yes he would lean into the fingertip she traced over his cheek, thank you very much. “You’ve gone so fluttery all of a sudden.”
“Just you, Little Bit,” he shrugged, watching as something softened in her eyes and made that look on her face even sweeter.
“Why do you call me that?” She sounded a bit shaky, like she was unsure of what was happening and just needed to keep the conversation going for the sake of not losing her grip on herself. “Not that it isn’t cute. You’ve just never told me what it means.”
Catcher blinked in surprise at the question. Honestly, he couldn’t quite remember why he’d started calling her that. In his head, he knew it had something to do with how she’d once mentioned all of the Troopers having strange nicknames. He was pretty sure they’d been drunk when they were discussing it. She’d asked about why he was called Catcher and he’d explained that it had to do with being quick on his feet—not quick enough, apparently—and he was almost sure she’d wondered out loud what sort of name she’d have if she were a clone. He’d never given her an answer. He’d just started calling her Little Bit. She was petite and it just seemed to fit her for some reason. Turning his hand up, he let out a short laugh and shrugged.
“I don’t know what it means.” He confessed. “It could mean a lot of things, I guess.”
“As long as it’s not short for Little Bitch, I don’t care.”
“No.” He shook his head, eyes going wide. “No, I would never. That’s not… that’s on a level of disrespect I could never… absolutely not.”
“Good.” She shifted on him again, looking a little surer of herself as she gave a light wiggle of her hips that had him exhaling a low growl from somewhere deep in his gut. “I think I’d have to actually crush your skull if it was.”
“You’re killing me enough as it is,” Catcher didn’t bother fighting the grin that spread across his lips. “But Maker—what a way to go.”
The brunette eyed him for a long moment before she leaned up and—quite tentatively—pressed her lips to his. Soft. So soft. That was the only thing he could think. Even when they pressed closer to one another and opened up to each other to deepen the kiss, all Catcher could think about was how fucking plush her mouth felt. Fuck, she could kiss like nobody’s business, too. Slow and deep and dizzying in a way that made him wonder if maybe the damn painkillers still hadn’t worn off yet. She tasted as sweet as he’d expected—sweeter, even—and he was content to skim and dance his tongue along hers until he’d filled his mouth with the taste of her. She added a second hand to the one already curled around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer until he was locked in place. He felt her draw his bottom lip into her mouth and suck at it, groaning heavily when she dragged her teeth over it and gave it a tug. His hands went to snatch her by the waist, pulling her in flush against his chest as he mimicked the move and earned a moan that made him shiver. He wanted more of that sound—needed it, even.
Too damn bad the comm-link on her table had other ideas.
“Fuck—really?” His General pulled back to stare at the blinking device, looking damn irritated as she dropped a hand from his head to run it through her hair. The device chirped again and Catcher leaned in, pressing a light kiss to her neck.
“Can you leave it?” He didn’t mean to sound so hopeful, but he hadn’t had enough of her yet. Not nearly enough. The brunette’s fingers gently scratched through his hair as she glared at the comm-link and tilted her head for him. When it chirped a third time, she reached a free hand out and did something with her fingers that had it floating into her hand.
“What?” She growled, clearly not bothered to let whoever was on the other side know that she was not happy to be interrupted.
“Ooooh, good morning to you too, sweetness.” Skywalker.
“I’m a little busy, Anakin.” She leaned back in Catcher’s lap and he began peppering kisses across her collarbone in an attempt to soothe her and distract himself. “What do you want?”
“What duty?” Licking her bottom lip, she shimmied her shoulders a bit to get the robe down, fingers tightening in his dark hair to encourage his kisses lower. “I’m grounded for three days.”
Catcher raised his eyebrows in silent question and got a smile in return. It did not last as her features twisted back to annoyance when the younger Jedi spoke again.
“Jedi duty, sweetness.” The little bastard sounded like he was grinning. Smug fuck. “You don’t get breaks from that.”
“I have to check on Catcher.” She bit down on her tongue and tried not to grin at the clone slowly making his way down between her tits. “Make sure he’s okay.”
“He was released from medbay this morning. I saw him in the canteen. I don’t know why you’re so worried, Iza. The man has been through worse than a broken wrist.”
The Jedi General tensed horribly and put a restraining hand on Catcher’s shoulder just as his lips were about to brush over one of her nipples. When he looked up, she was wearing that hard expression that suggested someone was about to get their ass kicked. Silently, he hoped it wouldn’t be him.
“He’s my Commander, Anakin. I have every right to worry about him. Especially when I’m the reason he was injured in the first place.”
“I still can’t believe you tried to ground your squad for a week over it. I’m surprised they granted you three days.”
“Because you wouldn’t try to get Rex grounded if he got injured?” She sat back on Catcher’s thighs and pulled the robe shut, completely distracted by the conversation now. “Don’t try and make me look like some kind of fool just because—”
“Listen—I get it. The guy gives you the tingles. It’s not like Obi-Wan and I don’t know. But it’s a little ridiculous to take yourself off the field for a whole week just because you broke the man’s wrist.”
“I got him shot, Anakin. He deserves a break.”
“I’d be careful, sweetness. It’s starting to sound like you’ve got a crush on the guy.” A chuckle was followed by a sigh and Catcher wished he could reach through and knock the little shit’s teeth out of his skull. “You have ten minutes to meet us at the cruiser. If you’re that worried about your Commander, you can always swing by the barracks when we get back.”
“I hate you.” She looked like she was going to cry. The hurt expression on her face just about killed him. “You’re such an asshole.”
The light on the comm-link flickered out and the brunette almost threw it across the room. Instead, she completely avoided his gaze and got up from his lap, pushing another button on the link and waiting.
“Hello darling,” Kenobi.
“Do I have to go?” She sounded choked now and a soft tut was heard on the other end.
“I’m sorry, darling. I’m afraid so.”
“I asked for time off, Obi-Wan,” Maker, she was really going to cry. Catcher was going to have to bear witness to her crumbling in front of him and he didn’t know how to help. He didn’t even know if she would let him. “You said you would let me stay behind.”
“I said you could stay off the field, my dear. I cannot control requests from the Council.”
“You may spend time with your Catcher when we return. We will not be gone long.” Well, at least he sounded like he cared about how she felt. Skywalker needed to have his manners checked.
“Yes sir,” she pinched her mouth shut and frowned at the floor, bringing her hand up to her face to hide it from Catcher.
“Don’t cry, darling. You will see him. Don’t let Anakin’s bullying get to you.”
“He’s so mean about it.” The gasping breath she took had Catcher reaching out to brush his fingers against her thigh, drawing her attention back to him for half a second. “He’s always so damn mean, Obi-Wan.”
“I know, darling. I will talk to him. For now—get dressed and we will meet you in the hangar.”
A quiet little hum followed before the link went silent once more and Catcher watched as his General dropped it to the floor. Both of her hands went to cover her face and he wasn’t sure if it was to hide the tears from him or if she felt some kind of shame for being exposed. Getting to his feet, he hesitated before lifting a hand to slide his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, grunting when she turned and planted her face against his chest. He didn’t say anything. He just put his arms around her and held her. Catcher didn’t know what the situation was between his General and the two Jedi. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But at least there was some comfort in knowing that at least one of them understood. It surprised him that it was Kenobi. He seemed like he’d be the one who followed the rules closer than Skywalker. Then again—he also seemed like the one who would genuinely care about Little Bit’s wants and needs, too.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled when she finally pulled back. “I don’t want to leave.”
“Hey,” smiling, he dipped his head and gave a tiny nudge to her forehead before kissing her. “I understand, sweetheart. I’m not upset. I can take care of this myself for now.”
“You can stay here and do it,” she let out a shivery breath and waved a hand, using the sleeve of her robe to dry her eyes. “Better than trying to hide in the showers.”
“You know about that?”
Her eyes fixed on him for a moment, still very damp with tears despite her efforts, and a tiny smile made her lips wobble and turn upward.
“I do now.” She let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “I’ll say it again—you’re a horny little fuck.”
“Not always.” This would teach him to keep his damn mouth shut. Giving her a curious look, he watched the way she started to turn pink as though she were reading his mind. Catcher only smiled at her and bumped his forehead into hers, sighing quietly. “You should get dressed. I’d hate to know you pissed off Kenobi.”
“Skywalker can get fucked with his little laser sword.” Grumbling, the clone made a face. “I don’t like the way he talks to you.”
“I’ve noticed,” she dropped a kiss to his chin and pulled back with some reluctance. “I’m not defending him, but he isn’t always like that. I think he’s jealous.”
“I don’t care what he is. He should know better than to speak to you like that. If I didn’t know any better—”
“Catcher,” pausing in the middle of picking the bottom half of her body glove off the floor she looked back at him and shot him a conflicted sort of expression. After a moment or so, she stuck her thumbs in the sides of the panties she wore and pulled them down, tossing them in his direction. They hit his chest and he caught them before they fell to the ground. Warm. A little damp. His dick throbbed at the idea that she was about to run around without them on. “Feel free to use those to clean up. Unless you prefer to get it all over yourself again?”
“So I wasn’t hallucinating?”
“Oh no,” she laughed as she tugged the bottoms on and shrugged out of the robe. Catcher groaned internally at the sight of her bare tits. They definitely looked like they’d make the perfect handful. It took quite a bit of restraint for him not to cross the space between them and see for himself. He almost pouted when she pulled the top half of the blacks on and worked her fingers around the pressure seam. “It was very real, Catch. I was minding my own damn business on my way to bed when I got this feeling, see. So I decided to check up on you and got quite the eyeful.”
“How long… how long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to see you do that thing with your thumb.” She wiggled hers at him and grinned, donning the various layers of her robes before she shot a dirty look at the panels of armor. Shaking her head like she’d decided not to bother, she went for a pair of boots in the corner and sighed. “Anyway—I was going to just leave you alone but then you started saying my name. I didn’t mean to scare you, by the way. You looked very startled when you saw me.”
“It’s not every day your General walks in on you cranking one out, sir.” He paused and then shook his head. “Sorry, habit.”
“It’s all right.” Smiling at him, she came back over and slid her arms around his waist, tipping her head up and poking her bottom lip out. “I can’t reach to do the cute forehead thing.”
He laughed. She was fucking adorable. Lowering his head for her, Catcher closed his eyes with a soft smile when the brunette gently bumped her head against his before she kissed him.
“I’ll see you later. I promise. We’ll finish this.” Her fingers slid beneath the hem of his under-tunic and smoothed along his skin. “And you better start calling me Iza. I’ll make it an order.”
“Okay,” he pretended to be exasperated, grinning to be sure to let her know it was in jest. “I’ll do that. Do me a favor and punch Skywalker in the mouth for me.”
“Maybe,” she stole another kiss before she pulled away and patted his chest, pointing at the panties he still held. “Have fun with those. You can keep them when you’re done, if you want.”
It had gotten late and Iza hadn’t come back yet from wherever the Jedi had dragged her off to. Catcher had been unable to keep himself awake past a certain point beyond supper because of the lingering effects of the drugs and because of what he’d gone and done to himself after her departure. He hadn’t allowed himself to use her panties as a cleanup rag, but he’d definitely used them to help himself along. Being in her bed helped quite a bit as well. He wished he could’ve stayed there but it would’ve looked strange if he didn’t return to the barracks. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but he knew for sure what had woken him up. The sensation of something warm and a bit heavy settling down on his chest startled him straight out of a dream he’d been having—something sweet and not sinful for once—and he found himself utterly confused to feel something equally warm and soft on either side of his face. Skin. He was pretty sure it was skin. It was so damn dark in these barracks and his instincts were telling him to throw whatever the fuck it was off of him. The slow slide of fingers through his hair stirred him completely out of sleep and as his eyes adjusted, he looked up to find his General parked on his chest like it was no big deal.
“Little Bit, what the fuck?” He whispered, trying not to alert his brothers to her presence. Was she even wearing pants? He couldn’t lift his head up enough to see. It sure as shit didn’t feel like it.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke as though there was no one else in the room with them. Was she trying to wake everyone up? “Did I scare you?”
“You think?” Reaching around one of the thighs bracketing his head, Catcher rubbed a palm over his face and stared up at her. “What are you doing?”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Eh? Because I don’t want to wake anyone up, that’s why.”
“There’s no one else here. They’ve been cleared out.”
“Cleared…” He picked his head up again and tried to look around, making her laugh and shift back on him so he could see. Indeed, every bunk in the place was empty. Strange. He’d never seen one of these rooms dead empty before. Looking back up at her, he raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”
“Obi-Wan did it.” She played with his hair and cast a soft smile down at him. “He ordered everyone out under the guise that you needed absolute peace to heal.”
“That’s a bunch of bantha shit. They’re gonna see right through it, you realize?”
“Oh—probably.” Iza nodded and snickered. “Especially since the Stars definitely saw me come in here.”
“You’re trouble,” rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Catcher turned to look at her legs and then back up at her. “What’s all this, eh? You planning to sit on my face while I’m asleep?”
“While the thought did cross my mind for a fleeting second,” the smile on her lips was wicked and stirred something awake deep in his pelvis. “I’d much prefer it if you were awake and consenting. I don’t think we’re at the point yet when I can wake you up with that sort of fiendish behavior.”
“I’m gonna be real honest with you, sweetheart—I’d be more than happy to wake up with you parked on my face.”
“I had a feeling,” giggling quietly, she gave a soft hum and lightly twisted his hair around her fingers. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I ended up having to do a quick side job for my former master. It’s one of those things I’m not really allowed to say no to.”
“That’s all right, Little Bit,” he smiled and distractedly ran his fingers along the top of one of her thighs. “I only turned in early because of the narc hangover.”
“Mm,” she pursed her lips at him. “You sure it’s not because of the mess you left in my trash bin?”
He sucked his teeth and wished he was able to look anywhere else but directly at her. Thank the Maker the room was as dark as it was. He had a horrible feeling he might actually be turning red. A tug to his hair had his eyes shifting forward again and he found her with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, an almost unreadable look on her face.
“What? What’s that look for?” He asked.
“You’re breathing on me.”
“Uh huh,” he didn’t know what she was getting at. “Kinda happens when you go and sit on a man’s chest like this, sweetheart.”
“I’m still not wearing panties, Catcher.”
And just like that, he was fully awake and alert. He hadn’t even noticed because he hadn’t really looked. Besides, she had that damn cloth ribbon thing on. It covered her enough to obscure his view. Eyeing her a moment, he purposely heaved a breath and turned to lightly drag his cheek against the inside of her thigh. He was pretty sure he had a fair bit of stubble on his face. He hadn’t shaved today. Hadn’t really felt like it. Judging by the way she squirmed and whimpered—he was correct. Grinning like an absolute asshole, he did it again and grunted when she pressed her legs together against the sides of his face.
“Catcher,” she was giving him such a damn look. “That tickles.”
“I’m sorry,” no he wasn’t. “You weren’t kidding. You’ve got some strong legs, Little Bit.”
“You’re the one that wanted his face between them.”
“That’s true,” turning as much as he could, he kept his eyes on her as he parted his lips and gave a careful bite to one thigh. Above him, the brunette whined and squirmed again, pouting down at him.
“Catch,” oh—he had her. She’d likely start pleading next.
“What is it, Little Bit?” Giving another slow drag of his teeth, he followed it with a pass of his tongue and growled low when she shifted forward to bring herself closer to his mouth. She still wasn’t close enough and she’d trapped him so he couldn’t lift his head. This little brat. “I can’t reach, you know. Tongue doesn’t go that far.”
Iza growled right back at him and grabbed one of the crossbar supports of the bunk, pulling herself forward and adjusting her stance over him. She damn near cracked her head open on the top bunk when she straightened, appearing to shake it off before she was nudging her hips forward to tempt him. He needed none of her goading. Sliding his hands along the sides of her legs, he hooked his fingers over the crook where her hips joined her thighs and pulled her down onto his mouth. He would not stop the savage growl that rose in his throat at the first taste of her, tongue sweeping slow and deep while she let out a soft and needy sound above him. The hand in his hair flattened against the top of his head and then flexed around the strands again and he swore he felt her shiver when he pulled her down even closer and teased her clit with the end of his tongue. Sweet fucking Maker, she was wet, and seemed to be getting wetter by the damn second the longer he dragged the flat of his tongue against her. Her hips would jump when he’d focus on certain spots or slide his tongue inside of her and he couldn’t help snickering quietly at the way she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to push down or lift away from him. He became aware that she’d taken her fingers out of his hair and was grabbing hold of the crossbar support with both hands now, having finally found a rhythm to work herself against his mouth that she liked.
She cussed at him quietly and bashed her head again when he gave a tentative suck to her flesh. He’d looked up at her after that to silently ask if she was all right. She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing in harsh pants, murmuring commands for him to use more pressure with his tongue or to lighten it when her thighs started to shiver. She seemed to really enjoy it when he made his quiet noises of appreciation to her praise. And when he was pretty sure she was getting ready to come, he focused all of his attention to her clit. Rubbing soft circles and hard passes and the occasional flutter, he nearly grinned against her when she sagged against the crossbar support and ground herself against his mouth while his name escaped in a cry that echoed through the barracks. He held her to him as he continued the slower passes all the way through her climax, letting out an irritated growl when she pulled off of him and knelt to hover above him, wheezing into her arms and occasionally twitching with a soft whimper. Turning his head, he kissed along the inside of her thigh and was rewarded with a slow drag of nails over his scalp.
“Fuck, Catcher,” she whined, gasping when he lifted his head and gave a dragging pass of his tongue. “Please—give me a minute.”
“Sensitive?” He teased, running his fingers up along the inside of her thigh. Iza nodded at him and he grinned smugly, letting out a thoughtful hum before lightly brushing his fingertips against her slick flesh. She jumped, but didn’t immediately protest until he got closer to her clit.
“Okay, okay,” chuckling, he slipped them lower again and bit down on the end of his tongue before pressing them into her.
“Oh Force,” she set her thighs further apart and he took that as an invitation to continue. Sinking them in further, Catcher looked up to watch her and blew out a quiet breath when she moaned and tightened around them.
“Maker, Little Bit,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill me,” resting her head against her arms, Iza breathed in shivery gasps as the clone began working his fingers in and out slowly, occasionally rubbing against a stupidly sensitive patch of nerves on the highest wall of her cunt. Biting down on her wrist to muffle a heavy cry, the brunette tried to keep from twisting her hips and flinched away when he tried brushing the pad of his thumb near her clit. “Catcher, for fuck’s sake!”
“Come on now,” he teased, shifting beneath her to lift up on an elbow and press kisses to her belly. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I swear, I’m gonna—” she stopped mid-threat when the warm, wet slide of his tongue passed over her flesh. She should’ve expected it, all things considered. But it sent such a sharp sensation through her that all she could do was drop her head forward and shake. His fingers were so damn deep, too. He was going to break her. She took to counting the pumps of his fingers and the passes of his tongue, working out the rhythm to try and distract herself from how hard her body was trembling. It didn’t help much. He’d gotten about ten decent laps in before she lost it again, pounding her fist against the crossbar and shouting into the crook of her arm while her hips moved of their own accord. She begged, pleaded for him to stop and after a few more delicate passes, he finally did. She twitched and whimpered when he kissed her and she felt him moving out from underneath her, his arms going around her waist to haul her away from the crossbar back against his chest.
“Hey,” Catcher took note of the stream of tears that ran down Iza’s cheeks and lifted a hand to gently wipe them away. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Too much,” she squeezed her thighs together and curled up against him, shutting her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. “You’re a damn animal.”
“Listen,” he nuzzled at the side of her neck and chuckled quietly. “When you get the chance to live out a fantasy, you have to take advantage of it a little.”
“You had fantasies of overstimulating me until I begged for mercy?”
“No,” Catcher grinned. “I had fantasies about making you come on my tongue until you begged for mercy, though. I honestly didn’t expect you to give up so easily.”
“You’re very enthusiastic.” Iza let out a laugh and shook her head. “It’s hard to maintain any sort of control when someone’s going at you like they need you to survive.”
Catcher’s grin widened even more and became wolfish. He didn’t say anything. He just shrugged when she looked up at him and grunted when she gave a light swat to his shoulder.
“I can be,” his grin softened considerably and he ran his fingers through her hair, careful when he passed over the top of her scalp. “How’s your head?”
“You don’t waste any damn time, do you?”
“No—Little Bit,” laughing, Catcher poked his tongue against the inside of his bottom lip and shot her a look. “You hit your head. Twice, I believe. Are you all right? These bunks aren’t very forgiving.”
“Did I?” Iza blinked like she hadn’t noticed and reached up to press her fingers against the top of her head, looking surprised when she found a tender spot. “Huh. I didn’t notice. I’m used to hitting my head on things.”
“Do I want to know?”
“You’ve seen me on the battlefield, Catch,” she turned a hand up and flicked her fingers dismissively. “I get hit with clanker parts all the time. Drives Unk nuts when I come back with blood all over the place. Can you believe Rex tried to convince the outfitter to give me a helmet?”
“Yes, actually,” giving her a concerned look, Catcher planted a kiss to the top of her head. “Maker, Little Bit.”
“Listen buckethead,” tipping her head back on his shoulder to give him a look, Iza pursed her lips. “Don’t give me any lip about it. I’m a Jedi. I can take the pain. It’s good fuel for combat, anyway.”
“Did you just call me buckethead?” He wasn’t entirely sure if he was offended or not. “That’s a little rude coming from you.”
“There are worse things I could call you, Catcher,”
“Please don’t call me any of them.”
“I won’t,” she sighed and twisted in his arms to face him, watching the way he raised an eyebrow at her. “Hi,”
“You gonna lay back for me or…?”
“You gonna take off that ribbon thing you have on?” Smirking, Catcher shifted a little to prop himself on his elbows. He had to fight against a laugh when Iza frowned at him.
“How many times do I have to tell you it’s not a ribbon? It’s a tabard and it’s part of the uniform.” She’d started pulling it off as she grumbled at him, the top half of the body glove she still wore going along with it. For a moment, Catcher just sat there and admired her, a dopey ass look on his face. Iza pursed her lips at him and scooted closer, pressing up flush against his chest and hovering her mouth over his. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
Humming, Catcher leaned up and gave her head a gentle bump with his, still smiling like a fucking idiot.
There was that damn soft look of awe again. This time it was accompanied by the fact that Catcher could feel her heart starting to race in her chest and suddenly—he understood. Bringing a hand up to brush his knuckles against her face, his smile softened when she leaned into the touch and he chuckled lowly when she tilted forward to knock her forehead into his. They both closed their eyes for a short while and he spent the time slowly running his hand along her cheek while she nuzzled at his nose and fiddled with the hem of his under-tunic. Tipping his head, he leaned in and kissed her gently, a little surprised at how quickly she opened up to him. She kissed him differently than she had before. There was none of the urgency or teasing. It was all tenderness and the kind of softness that made his chest clench. For someone who wasn’t supposed to express any emotion, she sure as hell had a talent for finding ways of doing it. The hand on her cheek smoothed back into her hair, drew her closer. The kiss deepened and Catcher heard himself groaning when her hands skimmed up along his thighs. The time for sweetness was apparently over. He was actually a little reluctant to let it go.
“You’re overdressed,” damn her voice was rough. “Get some of this off,”
“Yes sir,” shooting her a cheeky smirk, Catcher started with the under-tunic, almost wishing he hadn’t when her eyes settled on the bacta patch still stuck to his shoulder where he’d been clipped. Shit. He’d forgotten about the damn thing. He was pretty sure he could remove it now but when he went to peel it off, she stopped him.
“What the hell are you doing? Leave that alone.” She looked so fucking concerned about it. He didn’t have the heart to argue with her. Nodding, he reached out to pull her close again and kissed the center of her forehead in an attempt to soothe her. He really didn’t like making her upset like that.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Catcher,” she blew out a breath and shook her head. “Just… leave it.”
“Hey,” tipping her chin up, he stroked her jaw lightly and tilted his head in question. “You know you need to stop blaming yourself, right?”
“I’ll place the blame wherever I want to.”
“Then you better start placing it on the idiot who got himself shot, sweetheart,” he smirked, earning himself a frown. “Don’t do that. Don’t make that face at me, Little Bit.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” All right, that was fair. “Get your damn pants off, Catch.”
“You do it if you want them off so bad.”
Iza gave him a look and then started poking her bottom lip out in that damn pout of hers. Shaking his head at her as he fought back the urge to break out into a smile, Catcher waved a finger and then tapped it against her lower lip.
“Why do you do this? Eh? Why do you do this to me?”
“Catcher,” Oh and now she was going to use that sweet tone with him on top of it. He could swear she’d done more than just feel his emotional switches. The little brat had gone and read all of his damn thoughts while she was at it. Still fighting back the smile, he laughed shortly.
“That is not an answer, sweetheart. That’s a damn dirty move is what that is.”
“Commander…” Maker. She’d gone and pressed that button. She’d also shifted around so her arms were pushing her tits together in a way that was fucking distracting.
“You’re a brat.” Catcher muttered, moving to unbutton the trousers. Easing them down over his hips, he gave her a nudge to get her to move so he could take them all the way off, dropping them on the floor and giving her a damn look when he was done. “Better, General?”
Iza didn’t say anything. She appeared to be busy with quietly taking in his appearance. At first, Catcher wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Upon realizing he’d pretty much sat there and done the same to her, he relaxed a bit. It was just unnerving not knowing where her eyes were really looking and what might be going on in her head. He jumped a little when she eventually smoothed one of her hands over his thigh and wished he hadn’t looked so damn surprised by the move. She, however, just smiled at him and shifted closer to press tiny kisses along his uninjured shoulder. Well, he supposed it was better than no reaction at all. It didn’t make him any less curious about her thoughts, but at the same time—it probably wasn’t any of his business what she thought of his naked body. At least she hadn’t laughed. That was a good sign.
“You’re nervous,” damn Jedi devil wizardry. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” tilting his head against hers, he smiled when she looked up like she didn’t quite believe him. “Really.”
“Catch,” she nestled up even closer and he groaned low at the feel of her velvet-soft skin pressing up against his. “Do you want me to tell you that you’re pretty, too?”
He let out the stupidest damn noise. A cross between a cough and a laugh that had him dropping his head and looking away from her. She was a scary creature, his General. Far too intuitive for her own good. He tried like hell not to chuckle or give any other sort of sign that she’d made him flustered, but the damage had been done. He felt her move in enough for him to have to part his legs so she could rest comfortably, her arms bracing on either side of his torso as she leaned on his chest and nuzzled her face into the side of his neck. He had to try and ignore the fact that his cock was pressing into the softness of her belly, but damn—that was probably more distracting than anything else. Especially since she rubbed against him every single time she breathed. The burn of her full lips trailing along his throat had him sliding his eyes shut and groaning heavily and Catcher couldn’t help himself as he slipped an arm around her waist to pull her even tighter against his form.
“Pretty is not the word I would use for you,” she’d worked her mouth upward and now the edges of her teeth were taunting the earring he wore, tugging the little hoop playfully until he growled at her. “Perfect has a nice ring to it.”
“You’re fucking with me again,” it was hard to laugh when she was teasing him like this. “I’m a mirror image, sweetheart. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the parts are all the same as what everyone else has.”
“Mm,” she shook her head and nipped at the curve of his jaw. “You’re different.”
“I’m a clone, sweetheart.”
“But you’re mine.”
Catcher felt like she’d knocked the air out of him. Startled, he turned to look at her and found her smiling at him in that sweet way of hers. He knew he had to look like an idiot staring at her the way he was but Maker, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how else he’d be expected to look at her after being blindsided like that. It put such a strange sense of confusion in him while also filling his chest with an almost painful, tight warmth that made it difficult to breathe. He was sure she felt every ounce of it, too. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her to know she’d knocked him into a weird panic like that. The gentle touch of a hand in the center of his chest made him regain focus and he could practically hear her telling him to breathe. She hadn’t said anything; just rubbed her palm in little passes while she rested her cheek on his shoulder and continued smiling up at him.
“Yours?” He said finally, wondering why his throat felt like someone’s hand had wrapped around it.
“You…” but she wasn’t supposed to have attachments or express emotions, he thought? How could she claim he was hers if these things were not allowed? He didn’t want her going against the rules of her Order. They were already toeing a pretty fine line just sleeping together. Trying to find enough sense to speak, Catcher ran his hand through his hair and tried not to look as confused as he felt. “But… Little Bit…”
“Catcher,” the hand on his chest began making soothing passes across the entire surface and she picked her head up to kiss his cheek. “Are you all right?”
“Won’t you be in trouble?” Turning his eyes to her, he tilted his head lightly and frowned. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”
“If you think I’m the only Jedi in the entire Order to ever have feelings for another person, you’re mistaken. Also very adorably naïve. They do not teach you enough about Jedi on Kamino, do they?”
“It wasn’t really the main focus, no.”
“It’s all about secrecy and maintaining balance within yourself when you have feelings for someone. The Jedi don’t discourage emotions, but we’re not supposed to hold onto them. I’ve never been much of a fan of that.” She gave a quiet hum and nudged her forehead against his. “I wasn’t sure what I was feeling from you. I didn’t know if it was just a lust thing like some of the others, or if you truly cared. The fact that you’ve been so gentle and affectionate kind of sealed it. I would’ve kept it to myself if I thought you just wanted sex.”
“Now see,” he shifted to look at her better, sliding his hand up along her back. “That would be unfair to you.”
“It is what it is, Catch.”
“It’s a good thing you’re not a… what do you Jedi call us? Non-sensitive. Because we’d be dancing around this forever.”
“Even Force Sensitives don’t always know what feelings mean, Catcher,” Iza shot him a pointed look and sighed. “Yours are confusing sometimes. I think, even to you.”
“I’ve never had feelings like this so—yeah. You’re not wrong there, Little Bit.” Catcher gave a dry laugh, still unable to do much more than look at her in awe. “Is this why you said you needed my feelings?”
“You could say that.”
“Well,” turning his hand up, he offered a quick smile and tilted his head. “They’re all yours.”
Catcher swore the little gold flecks in her eyes lit up like stars when he said it. He knew the rest of her face had definitely brightened. The way she rushed forward to knock her forehead into his startled him a bit and maybe her hurried kiss was a bit on the rough side, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. No, he was more than happy to settle in for one of her deep, deliberate kisses that had the fire in his belly burning hot all over again. The longer they kissed, the messier they seemed to get until it was all lips and tongue and heavy breathing. Iza had started pawing a hand along his side, fingers questing slowly along the lines of muscle etched beneath his skin. When she’d reached the slight V defined along his pelvis, he couldn’t stop the quiet snicker that gusted past his lips into her mouth. He wouldn’t call himself ticklish, but her touch was so light that it made a weird shiver run up his back. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She’d lifted herself away from his torso and was sweeping her fingers across his pelvis, choosing to linger just below his navel and torment him with those slow passes.
“As long as you don’t break it or bite it, you can do whatever the hell you want.” Might as well get that out of the way. He was too damn antsy to sit back and be tentative about it. At first, Iza just stared at him in stunned silence. And then she was letting out a loud laugh and pressing her face to his shoulder to try and smother it. He swore he thought he heard her snort, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Well okay then,” she wasted no time at all moving her touch lower and Catcher found himself holding his breath. The slow slide of her delicate fingers wrapping around the base of his cock had him letting all of the air out of his lungs in a heavy growl that seemed to startle the brunette. She stared at him with wide eyes, lips twitching like she was fighting not to smirk at the sound. Tilting her head, she raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Mm,” he nodded, dark eyes watching her carefully. They held each other’s gazes for a beat or two before Iza gave an experimental squeeze and moved her fist up along the length, pausing below the head before gliding back down. Catcher’s features seemed to harden even more as he stared at her, his eyes staying locked on her face. She was familiar with the feral expression, but it looked so foreign on his face. She half expected him to put a hand over hers and show her how he wanted her to do it. He didn’t. He allowed her to go at the pace she wanted to go at, though she could see tiny flickers of impatience in his eyes when she continued avoiding the blunt tip. It probably seemed unfair in comparison to how he’d jumped right in to getting her off with his mouth. Iza wasn’t really looking to get him off—not right away. He was growling at her steadily, she realized. Every time he exhaled he let out this deep, quiet rumble that threatened to kickstart her arousal all over again. Force, he made some fun noises. Smiling perhaps a bit too sweetly, Iza leaned up and brushed her open mouth against his, teasing the point of her tongue over his bottom lip. She heard a sound like a snarl and suddenly he was kissing her hard enough to bruise.
One of his hands came up to grasp the side of her head and hold her in place and she—in a rather thoughtless moment—brought her free hand up to shift its placement beneath her jaw against her neck. He didn’t notice for a good few moments, far too caught up in sucking at her tongue and continuing to breathe harsh sounds into her mouth. When he did realize that she’d moved his hand, he pulled back and stared at her before lifting it away, giving a startled look.
“What… the hell, Little Bit?”
Iza paused, confused. It’d never occurred to her that he might not be interested in that kink as much as she was. Shaking her head, she gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders and waved her hand.
“You don’t have to. I just… you were already holding on and I—”
“Look—” Maker, she’d really shaken him half out of the mood, hadn’t she? “I don’t give a shit what you do with those two, okay? I’ve seen the way you look after you run off with Kenobi. But that’s not my thing, Little Bit. I’ll happily toss you around and play rough, but I’m not—that’s not my thing.”
“I’m sorry.” It felt strange apologizing to him while holding his cock in her hand. Iza let go and put her hand in her lap. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck,” slinging an arm around her, he pulled her to him and pressed an absurdly gentle kiss to her lips, working his way down her neck. “Don’t be upset, Little Bit. I’m not upset. You just surprised me.”
“I should have asked,” Iza tilted her head for him, running her hand along his thigh. “I told you before—I’m not used to someone so damn gentle.”
“I am not gentle,” Catcher laughed against her skin and nipped it as if to prove a point. “There are just some things I’m not into.”
Pulling back to look at her, Catcher tipped his head and cupped her face in his hands. A brow went up as a light smirk curled the corner of his mouth and he shot her a look.
“You want me to get rough with you, sweetheart? I’ll get rough with you.”
“Not if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
“No—the choking thing makes me uncomfortable.” He tapped his finger against her bottom lip and leaned in to plant kisses all over her face. “But I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk if that’s what you want.”
Iza let out a harsh breath and stared at him, tutting softly.
“No you won’t.” Her tone was challenging, the look on her face matching it perfectly. Catcher paused in his kisses and stared back at her, almost unsure if he ought to take the challenge or not. After a moment, he grunted and gave a quick bump of his forehead into hers, nipping her bottom lip and pulling back.
“I mean… if you don’t want me to,” he waved a hand dismissively. He barely kept the smile off his face, though it was evident in his eyes as he watched her. “I’ll just give you the typical ride and be done with it.”
“See?” Iza rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in mock annoyance. “You’re all talk. Which is real disappointing—because you’ve got a nice cock, Catch. I’m sure it’s great at a slow and easy pace. I’ll be sure to let you know.”
He was shaking his head slowly as she spoke, that smile finally spreading across his lips as he let out a heavy rush of breath. This little brat. Sucking his teeth, he tried to appear as nonchalant as possible as he leaned back on his elbows and looked her over.
“You don’t want to do that, Little Bit,” he warned, giving her hip a nudge with his knee. “You were overwhelmed by my mouth. Keep pushing. See what happens.”
“That’s the problem, Catcher,” she crawled forward, leaning into his chest as she ghosted the tips of her fingers along the length of his cock. “You’re all mouth.” Looking him dead in the eye, Iza brought her thumb to her lips and wet it with a fair amount of saliva, watching the way his features shifted when she reached down again and took him in her hand. Slowly, she brushed the slick pad of her thumb in arcs over the very tip of the head the way she’d seen him do the night before, eyes lighting up when he made a strangled noise and pushed his hips up into her hand. “Yeah, Catch? Is that how you like it?”
“Fuck—Iza!” Catcher twisted his hips beneath the touch, torn between pulling away and pushing further into it. He caught the surprise in her face when he used her name and whimpered as she started to press-rub. “Sweetheart—sweetheart please.”
“You’re saying my name already. You gonna come?” She slowed her passes, pausing long enough to further dampen her thumb. When he didn’t immediately answer, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed to get his attention. “Catcher.”
“You gotta stop, sweetheart,” he really didn’t want to make her but if she kept it up at the pace and pressure she was using, he was absolutely going to lose it. Shaking his head at her, he blew out a heavy breath and tried to refrain from taking hold of her wrist. “You’ll be waiting longer if you don’t stop.”
“Hm,” the contemplative little hum was followed by a few more quick sweeps before she stopped entirely, popping her thumb into her mouth to suck the bit of precum from her skin. “All right,”
“Maker, Little Bit,” Catcher dropped back onto the bunk, rubbing his palms over his face as he tried to catch his breath and think of anything except the violent need he had to come. He felt her moving over him, felt the soft brush of her belly against the sensitive head of his cock, and immediately went to snatch her by the waist and lift her up and away from it. Whatever came out of his mouth was unintelligible and probably made up of mostly swear words, but he didn’t care. His arms trembled lightly as he set her on his stomach for the time being, looking up to find her pinching her mouth in an effort not to laugh. Shaking his head, he waved a finger at her and huffed. “Devil. You’re the damn devil.”
“I might be.” She grinned and leaned down to kiss the end of his nose. “You changed your tone quick. That’s a neat little trick, by the way.”
“That’s not…” resting his hands on her hips, he gave her an exasperated look. “I don’t do it nearly as viciously as you.”
“Maybe you should?”
“Iza,” Catcher laughed breathlessly and gave her hips a squeeze. “You know how you complained about too much? That’s borderline too much, sweetheart.”
“I would apologize, but I don’t want to.”
He scoffed at her. He didn’t know how else to react to that. The two of them fell silent for a short while after that, Iza spending some time just running her fingers along Catcher’s chest while he traced mindless shapes over her thighs. Soon enough, she was leaning over him again to steal a deep kiss. Groaning into it, Catcher was happy to keep it relatively slow and sloppy while he blindly slid his fingers up her sides and finally got his hands on her tits. Ah-hah. He’d been right. They made the perfect handful for him. He smiled against her lips when he heard her whine softly and felt her lean into the touch, forefinger and thumb finding the hard tips of her nipples to gently pinch and tug. Breaking away from the kiss, he sat up enough to close his mouth over one pointed peak, sucking in strong pulls as he dragged his tongue in circles around it. Iza buried her fingers into his hair, tugging at it when he set the edges of his teeth against her nipple and teased it with light nibbles that made her shiver. Her breathing came in heavy puffs that fanned out across his cheeks when he switched to her other breast, and she whimpered when he dropped a hand and tucked it between her thighs. His touch was light and slow, causing her hips to buck forward.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmured as he kissed and sucked at her tits. “You are slick,”
“Uh huh,” she was going to smack him if he didn’t put his fingers in her or at least offer to fuck her finally. “Catch.”
“Soon.” He flicked his tongue against a nipple, kissed it, then caught it between his teeth to give it a tug. “Busy.”
Iza let out an impatient noise and pulled at his hair, drawing his attention long enough for him to pull back and look up at her. She poked her bottom lip out in a pout and Catcher sucked in a slow breath. Damn it. She’d likely use the damn voice next. Popping his fingers into his mouth, he narrowed his eyes at her and raised an eyebrow.
“What, sweetheart?” If she was going to pout, he was going to milk it. “What do you want?”
She wriggled on him and whined needily, her bottom lip poking out even further. He snorted at her and leaned in to tease his tongue around one nipple, sucking it between his lips. Letting it go with an audible, wet pop, he glanced back up at her and sighed.
“That means nothing to me, you know.” He shifted under her to mock her wiggling. “Means nothing.”
“Catcher, for fuck’s sake—fuck me!”
“Oh,” the clone made a face like he finally understood what she was getting at, nodding along and smiling. His features hardened to something far more predatory and he wrapped an arm around her to roll her beneath him on the bunk. He damn near rolled them both out of the bunk, but managed to scoot them back into place without too much fuss. Taking hold of the backs of her knees, he parted her legs and—as a second thought—pushed them up to encourage her to rest her ankles on his shoulders. Iza watched him with wide eyes as he knelt up and started rubbing the length of his cock against her, whimpering quietly.
“Please…?” He grinned like an absolute fiend, rocking his hips forward to tease the head of his cock against her clit.
“Commander,” Iza kicked her feet a little and wiggled as much as she could curled up the way she was. It wasn’t the answer he’d been looking for, but hell if he wasn’t going to take it. With a harsh sounding snarl, Catcher pressed himself to the slick entrance of her cunt and slowly eased inside. He had to pause almost instantly, blowing out a breath and brushing one of her legs off of his shoulder as if that might help ease the way she squeezed him. It did not. Setting his jaw, he took his time sinking into her, letting out little grunts and pausing every so often until he’d managed to work himself to the hilt.
“Sweet mother of the Maker,” he grasped at her thighs, not sure what else he was meant to hold onto at the moment, and dropped his head forward. Yeah—he’d expected her to be a tight piece of work but fuck. Even with as wet as she was, his General exceeded his expectations immensely. Beneath him, Iza breathed in shallow heaves of her chest and silently wondered what the fuck was taking him so damn long to move. Giving another impatient noise, she nudged her hips up and tried squeezing her thighs together. She got a shaky moan and a palm pressed flat against her belly in response. “You—you wait.”
“Little Bit,” his hazel-tinged eyes fixed on her and sent a strange chill down her back. “You have to give me a minute.”
“Come on, Catch,” Iza really shouldn’t have whined like that and she knew it.
“Sweetheart,” he bit down on his tongue and swallowed hard. “You won’t stop squeezing me.”
Oh. Well, she didn’t know how to stop that. Still, she gave a tiny pout and settled back with a light thump of her head against the bunk mattress. Staring up at the bars above them, she tried to relax and think of something other than the fact that she felt so damn full of him. There was almost no warning given at all when he drew his hips back slowly and rocked forward hard enough to jolt her out of her thoughts and make her grab for the blanket beneath her. The sound she made was half of a gasp and half of a startled moan that got caught on its way out of her throat and Iza arched her back up as much as she could.
“Are you all right?” His voice had gone rough and deepened an octave or two than normal and he sounded as though he hadn’t even wanted to ask. She nodded quickly, wetting her bottom lip with her tongue as she reached to give his hip a light pat to encourage him to keep going. He did. The next hard roll made her hips jump and her thighs shiver where they rested on his chest. Stars above, he was deep. When he continued like he intended to pick up the pace, she set her fingers against his hips again and he stilled. “Little Bit?”
“Can I put my legs down?”
“Of course,” sliding his hands along her thighs, Catcher slid her ankles off of his shoulders and let her wind them around his waist instead. Raising an eyebrow, he reached up and brushed his thumb against her chin. “Better?”
“Yeah,” she nodded and shut her eyes on a moan when he rocked into her, a grin spreading across her lips. “Much.”
Good. He gave her another few careful lunges before grasping her hips and picking up the pace, grunting lowly each time their hips met. Fuck, she was a treat to watch. Depending on how quick or hard he thrust into her, Iza would twist and arch beneath him, letting out tiny cries and moans that would probably haunt his dreams for months to come. She’d squeeze those gorgeous legs around him whenever he hit the perfect spot, and when she mindlessly dropped her hands back onto the bed, he leaned over her and grabbed them to pin them to the mattress. Her eyes opened in surprise, but she didn’t object. Instead, she just stared him down for a moment before pushing her hips up into the next hard roll of his pelvis and shot him that challenging look of hers. Clearly, she’d relaxed enough to try taunting him.
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at her, grinning slowly. “You sure you wanna play, Little Bit?”
“You promised to fuck me until I couldn’t walk,” she reminded him, meeting him halfway into his next thrust. “I better not leave this barrack disappointed, Catch.”
“You won’t be able to leave, sweetheart, if you keep that up.”
“You’re all mouth.”
Catcher paused and gave her a look, silently asking if she was sure she wanted to play this game. When she simply smiled and wiggled her hips into him, he let out a quiet snarl and pulled out entirely.
He cut her off as he took hold of one of her hips and—quite carelessly—flipped her over onto her belly. Grunting at the less-than-gentle action, the brunette pushed herself up on her arms and shot him a look over her shoulders. He ignored it. Smiling lightly, he reached up and ran his hand from her cheek to her neck and down to her shoulder. With one good shove, he had her resting with her chest pressed to the cot and her ass stuck up in the air. Moving so he was knelt behind her, Catcher listened to the slight increase in his General’s breathing before stroking his hand down her back and along her thigh. Slowly, he leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back as he slipped that hand between her legs, feeling her wriggle her hips at the touch. He chuckled to himself when she began to whine and parted her legs a bit more to allow him better access. Dipping his head, he nuzzled the spot behind her ear and gently nipped the shell.
“You sure you want to keep taunting me, Little Bit?” He sank his fingers as deep as he could get them, pumping slowly. "That isn't a very smart idea, sweetheart."
“Ne’tra is the safe word. Hurry the fuck up.” Iza breathed, pushing her hips back with a heavy moan. Her head dropped forward when he found some sensitive spot inside of her and plied it slowly, her hands stretching out in front of her to grab the lower cross support of the bunk. She heard him snicker quietly before he pressed his lips to the side of her neck. He shifted behind her, withdrew his fingers, and then took her again in a single swift movement without any damn warning whatsoever. Iza nearly screamed as she arched back into him, her cheek pressing against one of her arms as her toes curled with every intense, powerful thrust he put into her. He switched it up every few thrusts, too. Slow, slow, quick and ruthless, back to slow—and then mix it up with hard, body jolting thrusts that drew desperate cries out of her and made her shiver all over. His hands had clamped down on her thighs and shifted them, spread them further apart and lifted her back tighter against his pelvis to work him deeper. The sharp sting of a palm against her ass, or his teeth sinking into her shoulder were welcomed little shocks of pain that made her squeal and moan and beg mindlessly beneath him.
“Catch…” she twisted under him as much as his hold would allow, knuckles white as they gripped the cross support desperately. “Catcher, I can’t…”
Catcher’s thoughts were similar. She was just such a tight, sweet piece of work and her muscles seemed to spasm around him. He wanted to feel them constrict. He knew it definitely would be his finish too, but he wasn’t going to let loose until she did first. He would wait and he would make her scream herself raw first. His palms were sweaty as he lifted one from her thigh, and moved it down under her belly. She let out a new arousing high note as he slid it down her stomach, through the fine hairs, and down to rub wetly over the small nub hidden there. Her breathing increased to sharp, quick pants and she cussed at him as she tightened hard around his cock. Burying her face against her arms, Iza shakily shouted out her release in a mixture of his name and praise laced with more swearing. Behind her, Catcher grinned like an absolute animal, continuing to rub his fingers around her clit while her hips bucked and twisted and she squeezed him like a vice. Leaning over her, he braced his free hand on the mattress and gave a hard knock of his head against hers before half-snarling her name in her ear, pounding his hips into her one last time as he poured himself into her in white-hot jets of heat.
His arm shook horribly as he tried to stay hovering above her, panting into her shoulder. Slowly—carefully—he pulled out of her and dropped onto the cot beside her, immediately winding his arm around her waist to haul her against his chest. Neither of them said anything for a while as they tried to get the air back into their lungs. Occasionally, Catcher would bury his face against the crook of her neck or press kisses all over her shoulder. In turn, Iza let out soft little hums of contentment and would lightly bump her head against his in return. When enough time had passed for them to have nearly fallen asleep, Iza stirred beside him and turned over to look at him. Her green eyes were still glassy and her cheeks were flushed and slightly sticky with sweat, but she looked damn satisfied and that was enough for him. Smiling down at her, Catcher dipped his head with the intention of kissing her and laughed when she met him halfway with a solid knock of her forehead.
“I was gonna kiss you that time, Little Bit,” he snickered, turning onto his side with a grunt. “But I’ll take the headbutt.”
“You’d better take it.” She snorted and shifted to nestle closer to him, bringing her hand up to brush her fingers against the peeling bacta patch on his shoulder. Making a face when it wouldn’t smooth back down, she cautiously peeled it back the rest of the way and sighed at the sight of the light bit of scar tissue left behind.
“Hey,” he pushed his lips against her forehead and took the patch from her, tossing it onto the floor. “You stop that.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Is this how you feel whenever you look at my face?” Catcher asked, watching the confused expression sink into her features. Reaching up, he tapped the scar on his chin and raised an eyebrow. “You were there when this happened too. Do you blame yourself for it?”
“I might. Sometimes.”
“You know I’m the idiot who didn’t have their sunbonnet on, right?”
“I’ve seen what commandos do to Trooper armor. It wouldn’t have done much good anyway.”
“Little Bit.” Giving a frustrated look, Catcher pursed his mouth lightly and sighed. “Yeah—well then it’s my fault you’ve got your badge.”
“No it’s not.” Iza’s face scrunched in a scowl. “You didn’t bash half my face in.”
“Excuse me?” He’d been told it was shrapnel that had clipped her. Iza snorted and shrugged a shoulder.
“I didn’t feel it much. Ask Obi-Wan. He’s the one that had to drag me out of the battle because I kept going. I told you—I hit my head a lot. I don’t notice half the time.”
“But—your face, Little Bit?”
“I was mad, Catcher. We’re really not supposed to give into those emotions, you know. There’s a reason. But I was…” Iza blew out a breath and laughed bitterly. “You know I don’t share the same sentiment a lot of people do about you clones being expendable. What the fuck was I supposed to do? My brand new commander just had his face split open by a fucking bolt bucket—I should’ve protected him better. That’s all I was thinking. I’m a Jedi. I’m a protector. I’ve failed him. Then the next thing I know, I’m waking up in medbay fresh from a bacta tank and I’ve got the entire squad cheering about my apparent heroics.”
“You don’t remember it?”
“I remember getting your blood all over the place. That’s why I stopped wearing the robes.”
“Except your little ribbon thing.” He smiled teasingly and got a mildly irritated look in response. Leaning over, Catcher rested his head against hers and kissed her nose. “You didn’t fail me, sweetheart.”
“Maybe not,” Iza brushed her fingertip over the scar on his chin. “But I sure pissed off a couple people. I think my master was one of the few people who wasn’t completely furious.”
“I’ve met your master. He’s… a very intimidating man.”
“He can be.” She shrugged and smirked faintly. “Especially when you factor in how strong he really is and how he presents himself. I was privileged to be allowed to be his apprentice. He had some reservations about me becoming a General, though.”
“Because of your temper?” Catcher teased.
“Yes, actually,” looking up, Iza laughed shortly. “He understands that I know how to ground myself. He does not know my methods. I think he would immediately have my title stripped if he did. But he’s always been a bit concerned with how I feel about the GAR.”
“May I ask a question?”
“Why put yourself in the position to command a battalion if you hate the army so much?” It was an honest question. Catcher was just curious.
“Someone has to make sure you stay alive.” Iza shrugged as if it were that simple. “Master Plo shares the same sentiments but he’s far more casual about it. A lot of the other Jedi share the same thoughts, honestly. They just do a really shitty job of trying.” Pausing, she frowned. “My master’s one complaint about me is that I’ve always had a hard time letting go of things easily. It takes time for me, but I can do it. Honestly, I think he just had me Knighted to shut me up and because we’re at war. I don’t think he believed I was truly ready.”
“You know, we clones aren’t supposed to hold onto our losses either. We’re bred to just keep moving.” Shrugging a shoulder, Catcher reached up and brushed a bit of hair off of her face. “But I don’t think you can really take that out of someone. It always comes back to haunt you whether you want it to or not. So, I understand, Little Bit. I understand not wanting that on your chest.”
Iza gave a watery little smile and laughed, rolling her eyes and covering her face with a hand.
“What a fucking conversation to have after sex,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Thanks for the excellent fuck, love. Let’s talk about our feelings on the military.”
Catcher let out a loud bark of laughter, turning his head so he wasn’t cackling in her face. When his laughter had died down, he pulled her to him and bowed his head to kiss her, humming in amusement.
“If it’s any consolation, it’s probably the most interesting conversation I’ve had after sex.”
“It’s not really appropriate. Not when I should be telling you how good you were. You were amazing, by the way.”
“I appreciate that, sweetheart,” he smirked faintly and smoothed his palms along her back. “You were pretty damn fantastic yourself.”
“I appreciate that. Listen to you. Mister I’ll fuck you into next week.” Iza grinned and snickered, poking the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “You can be smug. It’s allowed.”
“I would be, but I’m exhausted.”
“Oh—so no Round Two?”
Catcher picked his head up and stared at her. Sucking his teeth, he snorted.
“You need to give a man time to recover, sweetheart. And there’s no telling when the others will be allowed back in here.”
“We’ll move to my room, then.” Iza shrugged like she didn’t care one way or the other. “The bed’s bigger anyway. Though—” she tipped her head up and reached to tap the crossbar support. “It doesn’t have these neat bars to hold onto. These are useful.”
“It also doesn’t have a top bunk that you can smash your head on.” Chuckling, Catcher slid his fingers into her hair and brought her in to kiss the top of her head. “We’ll rest for a little while and then I think we can move into your room, Little Bit. My brothers deserve to get some sleep.”
“Okay.” Making a face at him, Iza’s features softened into a sweet smile before she gave him an affectionate bump of her head. “But you’re carrying me. I’m pretty sure my legs are not going to support me anymore.”
“I told you.” Tapping the end of her nose with a finger, Catcher grinned. “I’m not all mouth, sweetheart.”
“Be quiet, Catcher.”
Exhausted was not strong enough of a word to describe how Catcher felt when he sat down in the canteen the next day. He ignored the looks he was getting from his fellow squad members and ran his fingers through his dark hair, propping his cheek in his palm as he took lazy bites of his food. Thank the Maker he still had a few days of sick leave. His General had worn him down to absolutely nothing and he was pretty sure she’d been full of energy when she’d gotten up for her meditation crap that morning. Picking up his mug of caf, he caught the eye of one of the Stars and grunted, getting a vicious grin in return.
“Long night?” Popper asked, the tattoo on his face twitching as his brow quirked upward.
“Eh?” The question took a moment to sink in before Catcher sat up straighter and waved him off. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb, Catch,” Karver chimed in, dropping down on the bench beside him. “We know.”
“I dunno what you think you know.” Picking the fried protato off of his breakfast biscuit, Catcher shrugged his shoulder.
“The whole fuckin’ battalion knows, brother.”
Turning tired eyes to the clone beside him, Catcher blinked a few times and grunted again. He would have gone and continued denying that he knew anything about what they were talking about had a familiar shadow not been cast over his shoulder.
“What are we talking about, boys?” Iza’s professional tone made the other two squad members stiffen in their seats and clear their throats.
“Nothing, sir,” Popper answered, doing his best to keep a straight face. “Just asking the Commander why he looks so tired.”
Setting her hand on his shoulder, Iza pulled Catcher’s attention to her and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re supposed to be getting rest, Commander,” there was a sparkle to her eye that Catcher was sure the others couldn’t detect. “You’re useless to me if you’re worn out and injured.”
“Yes sir,” he had no idea how he managed to keep such a neutral face. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“The two of you are dismissed,” Iza waved her fingers at the other two clones, keeping her eyes on Catcher while they exchanged a look and took their meal trays elsewhere. When they were gone, the brunette softened her features and sat down on the bench. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he smiled lazily and nudged his meal tray toward her to offer her the other half of his breakfast biscuit. “Just tired.”
“I have some things I have to do today,” picking up the sandwich, Iza took the piece of protato he’d removed and stuffed it back in, taking a bite. “I want you to use my room to rest. I mean it when I say you’re no good to me if you’re worn out like this.”
“It’s your fault, Little Bit,” laughing breathlessly, he shook his head. “You’re damn insatiable, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.” Smiling, she leaned forward and gently knocked her head into his before getting to her feet. Pointing the biscuit at him, she gave him a serious look. “I mean it, Commander. Get some fucking sleep.”
“Yes sir,” Catcher smiled at her affectionately and watched as she nodded in satisfaction and took a bite of the sandwich before walking off.
“Maker above,” Karver’s voice nearly had him falling off the bench seat. “Did she just… are you two…?”
“Didn’t she dismiss you?” Catcher glared at his brother and raked his fingers through his hair. Well, he was certainly awake now.
“Mirshmure'cya.” Karver let out a short laugh and folded his arms over his chest.
“Keldabe kiss. Mando thing. I didn’t know Jedi did it too.”
“Is that, uh, some kind of custom?” Picking up his mug, Catcher took a long drink and eyed his brother over the top. Karver looked at him for a long moment and squinted.
“You let her headbutt you and you don’t know what that means?” When Catcher just continued staring at him, Karver let out a low whistle and sat down. “Brother, that’s a thing Mando couples do. That’s the gentle version of a kov'nyn. You know—the skull bashing shit that Ze likes to do. Usually you see it done with a helmet. I would think you’d know this, considering.”
“I never paid attention to the origin of our genetics, you know that.” He was going to need more caf.
“So…” Karver looked as though he wasn’t going to budge until he got an answer. “You and the General…?”
Shifting his gaze toward his brother, Catcher snorted and got to his feet to walk over to the caf machine.
“You know me better than that, Karver.” He turned, grinning. “I don’t kiss 'n tell.”