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always win at this

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“Just get it over with,” hissed En’veshi, bent over and exposed atop an obscene heap of pillows. Her wrists were tightly bound with rope; her legs had been spread, carefully, and then cuffed to the metal poles Kaliyo had laid out. She couldn’t quite wriggle herself into a comfortable position, despite being supported by half a hotel’s worth of bedding—her elbows would undoubtedly be killing her tomorrow. “You’ve been at this far too long,” she said, “for someone who’s barely touched me.”

“It’s all in the preparation, agent,” purred Kaliyo, voice dripping with smugness. She trailed a gloved finger along En’veshi’s spine, still slick with the lubricant she’d used, and got an involuntary shiver in response. “You wouldn’t want it to hurt…”

En’veshi knew that kind of pain. She had endured it before, for the sake of her missions—the fumbling of people who’d only seen dirty holos. Once or twice it had left her in the medbay, sore and bleeding, while a med droid applied kolto somewhere inconvenient. And it had always been unpleasant, to say the least.

She would almost take it, at this point. Kaliyo had been suspiciously gentle with the lube, whispering such mockingly sweet things into En’veshi’s ear-cones as she worked it in. Her fingering had been a slow, pleasantly aching experience. And she was wearing a strap-on; clearly, though, En’veshi had been too optimistic in assuming she’d actually use it.

There was a brief, rubbery sound: gloves being changed, probably. En’veshi growled in quiet frustration. Be more careful, she’d said, after their last foray into this. Apparently she had gotten her wish.

Three fingers this time. En’veshi gave a low whine, all half-sated want—oh, Void, she thought, just put it in already, I’m ready, I’m more than ready. What she said, though, was, “Fuck you.”

“Aw, what’s wrong, pet? Not careful enough?”

Fuck you.”

“I love hearing you say that,” Kaliyo whispered, bending down over her. The strap-on pressed against En’veshi’s inner thigh. “We’ve been through a lot, agent, you and me. Played your little spy game, took every side for fools—good times.” Her free hand wandered up En’veshi’s body, squeezed one of her breasts, and that wouldn’t have done a thing for her if it hadn’t been so deliciously possessive. “But at the end of the day,” breathed Kaliyo, “you’re mine.”

It was—something that should have been an insult. And wasn’t, somehow. Kaliyo said you’re mine like En’veshi swore loyalty. She said it like she had no idea how to give without taking, like she wouldn’t have to learn, like she could still get back the power she’d given up; it was a lie they both knew far too well.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” En’veshi said, slow and sharp as the twist of a knife, matching Kaliyo’s smugness and exceeding it. In response she got a slap to the ass, and she made a noise like a contented feline at the lingering sting. “You’ll have to do a lot better than that,” she murmured, twisting to grin back at her. “You know what I can take.”

Kaliyo laughed and smacked her again, less harshly. “You’ll only get it if you’re good, agent.”

The fingers came out again. En’veshi’s lekku twitched. “Really, now?” she whispered. “Are you sure about that?”

“Oh, yes. In fact…” Kaliyo paused in mock thoughtfulness. “I think you’ll have to beg.”

Oh, Void, don’t you dare. “No.”

“Yes,” said Kaliyo, and her smirk was downright audible. “You want this, pet? Then beg me. Tell me how desperate you are, agent, and don’t skimp on the big words.” She leaned an elbow on En’veshi’s back, pushing her down into the pillows. “Use that smart mouth of yours for something interesting for a change.”

En’veshi considered it, for a horrible moment. This had gone on far too long already. Her ass was more prepared than a feast day meal by now; her slit was practically dripping. But she had her pride to think of. “What do you want,” she snapped, “Sith love poetry? Absolutely not.”

“Your loss.” Kaliyo stepped away from this operation’s focus—damn her—and sat down on En’veshi, because she was an insufferable bastard who was going to get knifed as soon as this was over. “You know, agent, you make a pretty comfy pillow. Maybe I’ll keep you like this.” She reached out and stroked one of En’veshi’s lekku, almost idly. “My very own living throne.”

“You’re about to be Queen of the Dead,” growled En’veshi.

“Mm, wouldn’t that be something? The slinky black dress, the fancy chair made of skulls… I think I’d keep my cushion, though. All those bones can’t be fun to sit on.”

“Get your scrawny ass off me, Kaliyo.” To demonstrate, En’veshi pulled together all the leverage she could—which was admittedly not very much—and arched her back, wriggling spitefully. The annoying, pointy pressure disappeared, replaced by a short stream of profanities, and she sank back down into the pillow pile with a self-satisfied expression. “Told you,” she said. Her body ached with impulse, and it was an effort not to try and rub herself off against the pillows—but there had been a struggle, and she had won.

She liked winning.

“Ugh,” Kaliyo groaned. “Don’t give me that look. I might still walk away and leave you hanging.”

“No, you won’t,” said En’veshi. Her lekku wiggled enticingly. “You didn’t set all this up for nothing, did you?”

There was a pause; she imagined Kaliyo sweeping a critical eye across her body. “What will you do if I say yes, agent?”

“Call your bluff,” En’veshi said, voice low and breathy. If her hands weren’t bound, she would have pressed a thumb to the hollow of Kaliyo’s throat and smiled

There was a growl of frustration—Kaliyo’s, this time. “How does this always end with you getting everything you want?”

“Come on, now. I’m sure you also want to rut me like a fathier in heat.”

A pause, and then—“I’m going to make you beg, agent.” Kaliyo sounded… dangerously certain. It was very, very attractive, and she very much didn’t need to know that. “Someday, I’m going to figure out how, and when you’re breathless and gasping and can’t take any more—you’re going to ask me for it anyway.” It was a small miracle that Kaliyo bothered to lubricate the strap-on like she’d done her fingers, and a large one that she slid it into En’veshi’s ass with something resembling care. “You,” she said, with an experimental thrust, “are going to be way too far gone to stop yourself. It’s going to come out of your mouth like—‘oh, Kaliyo, yes, please fuck me, please fuck my oh-so-clever brains out.’” The strap-on wasn’t the thickest they owned, but it stretched En’veshi to a point just shy of pain; she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering, from trying to rub her slit against the pillows, but Kaliyo grabbed her hips and laughed. “No, agent, none of that. Not until I say.”

Nnnh,” said En’veshi, with a distinct lack of eloquence that at least didn’t come out as please. “Insufferable. You are…”

A harder thrust slipped into the rhythm. “I’m the worst, I know. That’s why you like me so much.”

“Yes. Don’t stop.” Please don’t stop.

“Needy brat,” said Kaliyo, a bit more fondly than either of them would have thought. Her strap-on dove slower, deeper; did she imagine it as exploration or conquest? It got her a strangled moan, either way, and not a deliberate one. “Remember when this started, agent? You played so prim and proper for your bosses, but I knew the truth.” She brought her hands into it, maneuvering En’veshi’s hips to pull her further onto the toy. “All those things you wanted and couldn’t have… how many of them were me?”

Enough. Enough to prove that this could be enjoyed for its own sake, not just as a prelude to cleaner victories. Enough that En’veshi didn’t think too much of garrotes, of choking Kaliyo against her bound hands, of all the brutal things she could do when a lover dropped their guard. “Don’t—push your luck,” she bit out. “I have other wants.”

“But I make you chase them.” Kaliyo leaned in closer, wrapping her arms around En’veshi’s waist. “You listen to me too much, you start thinking… why spend your life listening to a bunch of stuffed shirts? Why not take what you deserve?” She planted a kiss on her partner’s spine, teeth brushing skin—a reminder that she could bite, if she wanted to. (An admission that she didn’t quite want to.) “And then you did it,” she whispered, with vicarious glee. “You showed them all, agent, just like I knew you would. I said we’d go far, didn’t I? And you stole the fucking keys to the galaxy.”

A feverish haze nibbled at the edges of En’veshi’s mind, oh Void yes please curled up behind her tongue. She loved hearing that, more than she wanted to admit. “Flatterer,” she muttered. Ego really was a terrible vice…

“Whatever gets under your skin,” said Kaliyo, and—moved, jerking her hips and dragging En’veshi towards her and yes, Void yes, it hurt like… like something that broke metaphors. Like something too good for words. And then there were fingers pressing against one of En’veshi’s jil, treating it like a toy to play with, turning it into a nexus point of sharp pain-pleasure (no, stop, keep going, no, yes—) with a few harsh little tweaks.

It was—

It was a lot.

(Where’s your control, Cipher?)

En’veshi made an undignified noise and writhed in Kaliyo’s grip, unwilling to actually pull away but unable to stand it, gloriously undone. That mocking, analytical part of her scrabbled for purchase; there was something satisfying about forcing its grip loose. About letting go. About being used like a sleeve, except it was for her—she was the one getting all the attention here. Getting everything she wanted, as Kaliyo had put it. The cuffs bit into her ankles—the rope bit into her wrists—the synthetic cock plunged deeper in—

(she needed, she needed to control herself)

(but she didn’t want to, this time)

—and her mind blanked out.