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Chapter Text

Kallus finally breathed when the loud sound of the pod closing confirmed he was safe.

Or at least as safe as one could be in an escape pod, in the middle of battle field.

He looked at the moving ships around him, the silence of space a violent contrast with the implosion he could see left and right, debris of spaceships floating in the chaos in front of him.

He briefly wondered what would have happened if he had indeed been thrown through the air lock. His body preserved for an eternity in the remnants of the battle. His rank not even ripped from his chest in sign he had been on the good side, just another imperial to pollute the Galaxy.

Maybe it would have been better. His "work" as Fulcrum had been worst than useless since it had ultimately led to the destruction of so many life, once again. Just as a corpse floated in front of his capsule, Kallus realised that as always his actions had led to destruction of life. Kallus had seen the official count of attributed death the Empire had registered on his file and he knew the number would have made blush many people in the Empire.

His hand continued to work on the controller, adjusting up and down, left and right to avoid any ships, debris and shots. He muttered, the best his body could do in these conditions. Not only did Thrawn — the bastard — had broken his kriffing leg on purpose, he had also inflicted a few internal bleading, ensuring Kallus would die if not attended fast enough. One of his trembling hand reached for the medpack, rumpaging through it as he desperaly looked for the shot of bacta. The serine was luckily still there and he stabbed his thigh through the fabric, the liquids immediately rushing through already bruised body.

His own yell resonated within the small space, the pain almost making him loose his vision as his body shook against the wall. He felt tears gather and he muttered another swear as he realised he would dehydrate faster if he was crying. He had already hurt the Galaxy and its people enough to even waist some of the last resources the Rebels had against The All Mighty Emperor.

He forced himself back up, his back hurting from the recent torture. He took one deep breath and focused on the console, his hand typing the Fulcrum frequency at the strongest the capsule could produce.

His position.

His breathing grew unstable, clear signal he was going into shock. He tightened his grip around the controls, a electric buzz ran through his veins and he started to feel cold.

He took a deep breath, just like training, grounding himself on the sound of the capsule, the feel of his gloves under his fingers, the weight of his armour on his shoulders. He tentatively hummed, hoping his own voice would ease his nerves and the low vibrations to relax his muscles.

His eyes continued to look around, his whole being begging to find ship he had hunted for cycles now, The Ghost. He could see some Rebel ships jump out of the battle and although relief to know that some had managed to escape, he couldn't bring himself to smile.

His respiration quickened when he could barely see any survivors left and realise he might as well just already open the air lock of his capsule now. He started to move his hand toward the button, his finger gently resting over it whilst his whole body continued to tense in pain.

He had to be sure.

He had to be sure his death would at least maybe be useful.

He would give them so many information, a list mainly.

The list of all recently sighted Lasats in the Galaxy.

Also once upon a time called Kallus personal kill list.

He almost threw up at the thought, remembering how the taste of death was so close to him, the ashy taste of the air suffocating him and pulling his lungs out as he coughed blood.

He focused on Garazeb, Zeb, he tried to correct himself as always since the Ice Moon Incident as some incompetent troopers had called it a few times. His eyes gain hope again when he saw a flash of that ship he had studied so well over the cycles. He closed them, now landing his future in the hands of the Aslas, allowing Them to decide

Kallus grabbed the console tighter, his legs trying their best to compensate for the poor artificial gravity of the ship. His hands started to hurt around the metal as he heard the noise around him.

Voices, all kinds of ones, mainly a man, deep voice. The kind that would raise the hair on his back ever since that kriffing incident on that random mood. His mind clung to the memories of soft fur under his fingers and how warm it had been. And those eyes, haunting his dreams and forcing him to change underwear in the morning.

He pushed those shameful wishes away and tried to also forget the nasty comments he had received, insinuating the worse from Garazeb (Zeb) and depicting him like an animal with sexual urges worth the cheapest holo-porn in the Galaxy. None was apparenly ready to learn that human's actually had higher sexual urges compared to Lasats.

The voices grew louder and Kallus tried to focus on what they were saying, something about a confirmation a human was on board. One of them was an Imperial droid, Kallus own voice mocked for that enough time to recognise it by heart.

Gara, Zeb was here, calling his name.

His chest shook in brief panic, wondering if maybe he should turn and open himself the door. His fingers hesistated, his back relaxing in Faith. He heard some loud clang and he couldn't say if it was someone hitting the door or The Ghost jumping. No one was yelling which meant they had not been hit, not yet.

He raised his hands in the air and briefly feared when he heard the door open from behind. Maybe the Rebels would assume he was hiding a bomb or something at that the whole thing was a whle trap?

He tensed when he heard his name again, "Kallus." The sounds of claw approached on the metalic floor, Zeb always relying too much on his left foot. He tried not to smile since he wasn't even sure why he wanted to smile in the first place. Either the potential relief of sweet death once he'd tell them everything or maybe the idea of seeing, he marked a paused as he smiled when he couldn't hear the deep and distinct vibrations of the bo-riffle, Garazeb, he finally ended his sentence.

Maybe Bridger had indeed came to rescue him and not test his new loyalty to the Rebellion.

He allowed the tears to gather in his eyes, knowing Ga, Zeb would share some of his water with him. His heartbeat increased and he felt like his head grew heavier as he allowed them to spill on the console.

The large hand touched his shoulder, the gesture so soft and warm compared to the past. Just like those dreams he kept having. Ever since he had made some research on Lasat's culture, trying to learn more about that mysterious Boosan Kerwa, although the real impacting one had been the more forbidden ones, on how Lasats would mate, what human would call sex. Their way, significantly more intimate than any solitary pleasures he had ever taken.

The hold increased slightly, inviting his trembling arms to lower around the fury shoulders, holding him tight and suddenly his inside were too hot for his skin. He remembered the significant amount of drug Thrawn had ordered to inject.

Zeb, he smiled, had just said something but the buzzing was too loud, blurring his vision and relaxing his pained face as he felt his eyes roll back behind his skull.

He tried to take a deep breath to calm his breaking chest, the coldness of his skin making him sleepy, or at least his body. He felt like a rag-doll, his body weighting nothing between those arms. Everythig moved around him and he felt like they were suddenly closer to the ground.

The soft embrace was still there, this time a small laugh from the Lasat resonating around them. Kallus suddenly hated his gloves for missing that could only be the softest thing he had ever felt against his cheek.

He gasped for air, his body not functioning properly, his back arching just like it would usually the night in his bunk, when no one would watch him, he'd rub his face against his pillow to muffle his sounds, gasps of pleasure this time. The musky smell of the Lasat filled his lungs and joined the blood already there, drowning him.

His hand reached for the large soft face and his fingers digged on the long beard, his thumb carefully rubbing the pulp against the sensitive skin of the Lasat. The lasat gasped and muttered a sweet Karabast as he briefly released Kallus in surprise. The strong grip immediately resumed bto catch him. But his eyes were too late, already lost in memories of an obscure article with a descriptive list of all the traditional Lasani hair pulling techniques reserved for mating.

He had felt ashamed the first time he had passed his hand through himself, learning all the sensitive part of his body and accidentaly orgasming hands-free.

Still he had started to incorporate some movements to his routines, his un-gloved hand holding the base of his hair tight and pulling away at the right moment, instantly making him come. He had eventually started to imagine the strong hand of the Lasat, most probably capable of grabbing his whole head if he wanted to.

He tried his best to show the 'Love about to be lost.' the manual had talked about, the one when you're saying goodbye to your past mate, in death or just lack of happiness.

Zeb was smiling, his teeth even more sharp than he had initially imagined. He couldn't say if his body spasmed in pain or pleasure, most probably both as the large hand reached for his hair and digged through the already messy hairgel, pulling at them and making Kallus yelp as his vision grew white and he felt something wet between his legs, the warmth spreading toward his chest.

His breathing stopped and everything felt peaceful for an instant, Kallus remembering some unrestful sleep in a room that wanted him dead. He reached for the darkness, his hand caressing the sensation of peace, wishing to spend the rest of his short life like this, held by Garazeb Orrelios, the man that changed his life.

He closed his eyes and plunged, trusting Zeb would save him.

Chapter Text

Zeb looked at the sleeping agent on his bunk and figured he had no idea what Bogard had struck the man.

The Ghost was still on its way to the new Base, Yavin IV as it was apparently called. None of the people on board had ever been there and no one could really say how big that base was and who was leading it.

He took one deep breath and continued to walk in the small room, part of him annoyed he didn't have a bigger space to think, but also already terribly thankful to have the privacy of his bunk with no other refugees.

The ship was filled to the brink and all the voices and nervous smell of everyone was really not helping him.

He groaned loudly, not caring if it scared anyone outside. His eyes carefully snapped back to the resting human in his bed and he sighed in relief when the face was atill lifeless, the sound of his breathing barely loud enough to confirm he was still alive.

The topic of the new Base brought another level of fear at the sight of the grey uniform, realising he had no clue if his past promise would hold true and if the new Command would indeed treat him fairly.

Zeb sighed at the overwhelming flood of thoughts.

Everything was too much.

Already it had been too much ever since Lasan.

He had been able to numb the pain with the help of his new Family, yet it had never been enough to completely shut the dirty voices of the Bogans at night, whispering nasty things from the darkest part of his mind.

Reminding him of all the mistakes he had ever done, all the poeple he had ever lost.

He shook his head, not wanting to allow past grief to overthrow the current situation. He looked at the empty bunk of Ezra and realised that the teen had not claimed his bed, most probably prefering to let Zeb alone with Kallus.

Sudenly his legs felt weak and he crouched down near the head of his bed, wondering once again what happened in that silly imperial head to do such things. He had innitially thought it was a 'normal' or at least expected response for humans, since they seemed to be horny all of the time and usually for the smallest things.

It would have made sense for Kallus with how stressful the whole thing must have been for him, his body having clearly survived torture, and nasty ones compared to what Kanan had endured. Still, everyone's look when the past ISB agent had grabbed his face and kissed him in front of everyone. Luckily no one had been able to smell the salty and musky release the human had just done in his pants.

Already Zeb had needed to explain to a very suspicious and worried Hera why Zeb had pulled Kallus' hair, the gesture a simple response to the desperate attempt of a dying man to say goodbye. A promise he wouldn't let Kallus go. He had not really expected the brave man to know about such things and he knew he would have been offended for The Butcher to know such things about Zeb's culture if it had not been for their bound on Barhyn.

Or maybe that was the Prophecy already that had bounded them. Zeb finding Lira San on the condition that he saved The Warrior.

He looked at the soft face, for once paying attention to the small lips slightly parted, to the crusty hair and how they had been through enough to disturb his hair. The whole escape must have been very violent to achieve such feat, since their adventure on Barhyn had not even manaaged to disturb the hairstyle.

The blonde strand was long, longer than he had expected, graciously falling in front of closed eyes.

As his hand reached for the strand, soflty pushing it to the side, he couldn't help but think back on Kallus' gloved hand, doing the same gesture and rubbing his cheek.

The touch had been so foreign, so unexpected and yet somehow already missed.

He looked at the dark leather, wondering if Kallus had meant to touch Zeb in such a way or if maybe the human really was simply responding to adrenaline and would regret it.

Maybe he wouldn't even remember it.

Zeb smiled to himself, and maybe to Kallus too. He almost envied the ex-agent for potentially forgetting it. He knew the sound of Kallus yelp whilst the man apparently orgasm in his arm would not be something Zeb would ever forget.

He almost wanted to curse those damned human for invading the Galaxy and intovicating him with those dirty sexual thoughts.

Kallus was not even smelling like a proper Lasat, truly nothing should have been attractive for Zeb.

Yet he couldn't help it and somehow he reached for the immobile hand, his fingers trying their best to hold on the small and fragile appendage.

The leather was cold and smooth, finer than he had expected, the thin leather barely moving against Kallus' skin with how tight the whole thing was. He had never worn gloves himself and somehow the idea of needing to protect your hands was even more confusing than those shoes majority of the species were wearing.

He turned the hand between his fingers, feeling the warmth spread between his ribs as he wondered just how often the man would remove them or if he always kept them. The sensation spread lower, his imagination already picturing Kallus in his bunk, touching himself with his gloves around his human shaft, the dark fabric surely a beautiful contrast against Kallus pale skin.

He couldn't help but smile when he looked at their joined hand and he realised that the colour was also going nicely with his own skin, enhancing his darker stripes.

His brain derailed to another part of his body that would go nicely with it and he almost fell backward when he felt his sheath wake up, moisture building up as his cock wanted to confirm his theory. He managed to get a grip on the box behind him and settled on his knees to stay near Kallus and ensure he had not woken up the injured man.

He rubbed his hand, groaned and decided that maybe it was better when the Bogans were whispering about his past and not about his future.

Chapter Text

The scratching was loud and somehow it felt like it the large finger was digging in Kallus' ear.

He opened his mouth, ready to complain and order the Lasat to immediately stop it. Instead of the word leaving his mouth, Kallus felt the cold rush back inside his body, realising it was stupid and useless to complain about such things.

He took instead a deep look at the Lasat next to him and Kallus couldn't avoid but notice how the large eyes of the beast looked worried.

"Mmh?" Zeb hummed when he finally noticed Kallus had been staring.

"Your ears." He barely managed to say between the clacking of his teeth.

"Your teeth." Garazeb snapped back but it didn't sound mean.

Not as much as usual at least.

"It's the cold." Kallus forced his mouth to say. "I," he struggled again, "can't control it."

It seemed that the clacking of his teeth grew louder after that because he could barely hear when Zeb finally responded "Me neither." as his fingers continued to scratch the furry skin.

The gesture seemed painful indeed and Kallus wondered how the Rebel could still have an ear with how sharp his claws usually were.

He tried his best to stop the clacking but it seemed to only make things worse, making him realise just how dire the situation now was.

The worse was the dark thoughts confirming that no one was coming for them. At least not the Empire.

He couldn't say how long they had been on that ice moon but his internal clock was clear on the fact it had been at least more than two rotations.

At least one more rotation than what was standard protocol for someone of his ranking. He couldn't hope for anyone to look for him pass that deadline, and how fitting was that word in the current setting, since he had been the one to remind everyone when a trooper had went missing during a mission.

It had been one of his first Quarterly Report upon his arrival on Lothal, already a few cycles ago now. Speaking of Quarterly Reports, he had yet to finish the current one and with his now sudden departure, the thing was bound to be late now.

He had pushed it the closest to the deadline in hope to finally add his success against the Lasat in it.

Now that he was looking at the small meteorite, the yellow deamed light absolutely not following Imprial protocols, he could only scoff at the stupidity and arrogance of the whole thing.

Of course he couldn't even really scoff with the "night" of the moon freezing his inside.

No one would care about his late report and most probably a horde of arrogant junior had been waiting for such thing so they'd get a promotion.

They really were recruiting anyone at ISB nowadays was all he could think on the matter. No wonder the Rebels were growing stronger and stronger everyday. The thing was spreading like a disease and his superiors were refusing to see the symptoms. Worse they were using the wrong medication and were making things worse.

And now he was going to die with a kriffing Rebels as last ally all because some stupid people in their too bright offices couldn't be arsed to listen to him on the ground.

"It's the nerves."

Kallus snapped his head away from the meteorite and instead focused on the imposing Lasat that had just talked, his shoulders now crunched on themselves and his teeth worrying that big plush lower lip.

"Pardon?" He tried to say, having already forgotten their previous conversations.

"My ear." Garazeb said as he continued to dig his finger in his pointy ear. "It's the nerves." The deep voice repeated and it sounded unsure.

Great, even the Rebel had lost hope to be saved. At least he would not mock Kallus again for being realistic on his survival chances.

Maybe they could kill each other and make it a painless death instead of the slow and painful one that was waiting for them.

He was about to open his mouth and ask if Garazeb wanted to kill him first but was stopped.

"I hope they managed to escape the Empire."

Kallus felt like something switched within him, maybe the last of his coherent braincell had froze finally at the idea Garazeb could be more worried about his Friends than himself.

He laughed.

Nervously.

Painfully.

Uncontrollably.

The tears also came and he wondered since how long they had been there, waiting for an occasion to finally fall down his cold face, almost freezing immediately.

It mainly made him realise when was the last time he had done such thing, crying and laughing: Lasan.

A nervous breakdown as the medical droid had diagnosed.

Just like Onderon.

Another wave of laughter erupted from his chest at the realisation it was always those damned Lasat the thing was happening.

Warm arms wrapped around him and Kallus felt like suddenly he couldn't breath.

Everything was too much and too painful whilst being too numb.

He suddenly grew very aware he couldn't move, his legs already lost to the cold and his hand barely there anymore as Garazeb moved his body.

He wanted to yell but didn't know for sure he had managed to do it, maybe he was just crying then.

The whole thing was too similar to his first encounter and as he remembered the yell of his squadron, all begging for their lives, all more desperate with each of the men killed by the Lasat, Kallus suddenly could understand why they had done that.

The realisation made him laugh anew, regretting all those years of judging them for such things, knowing he had never bow to the beast.

He had kept his head high.

The large purple feet slowly approached, the claws digging in the ground as the toes dragged on the dirt.

He had not begged.

"You're the last one." The voice had said, so deep it couldn't be a human.

He couldn't beg.

"Will you beg for your miserable life?" It had asked, the air smelling of fresh blood and human release.

He would never beg.

"Never." He had managed to spat despite the loud ringing in his skull.

"Never." He repeated, the pain of his lost comrades finally leaving him through the tears.

The arm around hims grew more insistant, touching him and invading him.

He tried to curl to avoid them but his body didn't respond and he felt like a broken droid, his body heavy and useless.

The warmth suddenly burned him and this time he was sure he had yelled. The warmth came back to attack him so he yelled again, stronger this time.

Nothing happened.

The warmth stayed there, burning him everywhere and he could only sob and sometime yell when it was too much, which meant more or less all the time.

He didn't want to open his eyes, not wanting to see again that damned colour, ready to forget everything about that specie that seemed to haunt him.

Everything was suddenly dark.

Everything was suddenly silent.

He waited there, the burning now just another information joining the cold and the hunger and the tiredness.

Still he couldn't sleep or he'd die, he knew it.

So he waited instead, his eyes still closed.

He focused on the soft sound of the wind far away, the howling now almost singing.

He focused on the soft fur against his face, nuzzling his nose against the crook of a thick neck.

He continued to wait, almost feeling like a child cradled by his mother.

His fingers started to move, seeking the warmth like his life depended on it, and maybe it was.

A soft hum reverberated against him and Kallus suddenly realised he was still in Garazeb's arms, the Lasat sharing their body heat.

He hummed back, the most he could do with how tired he was.

The hand moved slightly and Kallus realised he was too exhausted to fight it so he just allowed it to gently stroke his hair, the large fingers covering his whole face.

He hummed again, this time in pleasure at the foreign sensation.

That seemed to please the Lasat, who also hummed in return, except the hum didn't stop this time and slowly shifted to a purr, or something similar to a Loth-cat if the thing had been as tall as a Lasat.

He couldn't say why, but he slowly felt like opening his eyes, maybe to confirm Garazeb was indeed the source of the sound and not one of those nasty beast.

Big green eyes looked at him, the most worried he had ever see someone look at him. He dumbly opened his mouth, too absorbed by the beauty of those eyes and how gentle they looked.

The big mouth opened, not to say something but to smile, timidly but gorgeously.

He smiled too, though it must have looked hideous in comparison.

His eyes couldn't help but snap to the side, toward the twitching ear. His hand did the same as his eyes and they reached out, his small gloved fingers curling around the malleable skin.

The purr grew louder and Kallus felt his smile grew wider.

"Easy." Zeb said, his voice so deep it could barely be heard over the rumble.

His finger approached the entrance and carefully rubbed it, hoping it was pleasant.

The big green eyes closed and Kallus would have missed them already if it was not for the slacked jaw that lowered in pleasure, confirming he could go deeper, exploring the orifice and feeling the warmth spread inside his body as the Lasat held him tighter, flushing their body closer.

The act was simple and yet it felt the most intimate Kallus had ever been with anyone, safe in someone's arm and focusing his whole mind on pleasuring someone else.

He should have killed Garazeb in that cave earlier and then killed himself, that would have been inline with Imperial Protocol.

Yet here, in the Rebel's arms, warm and protected, Kallus couldn't see any better way to live his last hours.

Chapter Text

"Just stop it." Kallus muttered as he could barely breath against the tight walls of the compactor.

"I can't help it Kal'" the Lasat lamented himself and a pitiful whine escaped the plush lips once again.

Of course the sound resonated like crazy and now on top of knowing he'd die crushed in a big pile of shit, next to his obvious crush (also past nemesis, I'm responsible for the genocide of his people) Garazeb Orrelios, howling like a fucking Loth-wolf (not that he personally experienced the sound but Zeb had talked about it enough time that Kallus could still not fully apprehend the fact Zeb had seen deities (twice?)).

"Zeb!" He yelled back, panic rising at the same level the disgusting mud was raising, now above their midriff.

"'M sorry." Zeb of course profusely apologised, or at least Kallus could imagine, the purple ears lowering and his mouth curling downward.

He'd never get to see them anymore, he realised as the heavy blockade they had built earlier snapped, the walls moving far too quickly for Kallus liking without the resistance.

"Zeb!" He yelled again, this time panic overflowing his senses.

The warm back of the Lasat hit his own and he sighed in relief. Brief relief since his legs hit the walls and started to push, his arms intuitively reaching for Zeb for mutual support.

The synchronise movement was not much but it was evidence of the energy they had developed recently.

Kallus had tried to deny it in the past but now that he was going to die, he did in fact needed to admit that he had fell hard for the man and that now it would just be too late.

It was already hard to believe they were friends. The words was still strange and somehow it still seemed like it was not enough.

"Zeb!" He tried to yell but it sounded like a cry.

"Kal'" Zeb responded seriously and Kallus felt like he could burst any second now if he was to die without confessing, so instead he just opened his mouth again.

"I love you." The words were out and already he sort of regretting them. "I mean, not like love love but,"

"Me too!" Zeb yelled back and Kallus would have thought he hallucinated them if it wasn't for the deep vibration on his back, confirming the Lasat had indeed spoken.

The wall increased in strength and Kallus felt the bones in his leg threaten, forcing him to stop the pushing. Zeb felt it and as their body pressed together, they turned to face each others.

Kallus hand was about to reach Zeb's face and he realised it was covered in disgusting stinky fluids.

Zeb didn't ask himself the same thing and Kallus felt the liquid drool down his neck, invading the space between his omoplates.

"Zeb." The name left his lips in a whisper and he decided that he didn't have enough time to remove his gloves.

He dug his fingers in Zeb's fur, rubbing it just like he knew Lasat's kissed and maybe he had started to sob when Zeb returned the gesture.

"I'm sorry," Kallus felt the tears run down his face and the urgent need to spill what was weighting on his conscious. "About La~"

His words died in his mouth when Zeb pressed his lips against Kallus, effectively shutting him up in a deep human kiss. He hummed in surprise and pleasure as their body started to get squeezed together but the compactor, sealing their desperate fate.

Kallus tries to look back just one last time, to admire Zeb, his ears, his small nose, his plush lips, those eyes, …

"Say you love me again." Zeb said, his ears low and bashful so Kallus executed himself and hugged the Lasat with all the strength of a soon to die man.

"I love you Zeb." He muttered. "I love you so fucking much." He buried his face in the crook of Zeb's neck, hoping to at least find some comfort.

The arms around him also tightened, just like everything else.

He closed his eyes and readied himself for the next few painful seconds to come, their bodies now pressing painfully against each others, crushing their bones together.

Kallus briefly wondered if maybe Zeb would die first, he hoped for it, not wanting Zeb to go through the pain of seeing him die.

The Lasat had already seems enough people dead, he deserved better than this.

The final crunch never came and instead they both heard a loud "clonk", indicating the machine had stopped.

It felt like hours but it couldn't be more than seconds, they simply looked at each others, confused but mostly relieved.

"Specters four!" The com link blasted in the small space and another wave of relief washed over them. "Do you copy?"

The rest of their teammates had gone through with their mission and had managed to save them.

Kallus couldn't say which one started to laugh first, maybe it was Zeb, or maybe it was him. Still they embraced in the uncomfortable small space.

"Yes!" They both laughed like mad men as Zeb pushed the button to respond.

Their hands seemed still just as desperate to touch each others as they were minutes ago and they roamed against their wet bodies, the sewage liquid slowly seeping away and lowering around them.

Kallus yelped when he felt the large hand reach out for his ass, the fingers covering his whole meat and digging in it.

Just as the sound escaped his lips, he felt the hard pressure of Garazeb's groin against him, oh so warm and tempting.

The idea of Zeb hard against him had exactly the reaction he expected on his body and his hips started to thrust in the tight space.

"Kal'" the sound of his name made him shiver and his own hands started to move like they were possessed, seeking some wet fur and hard muscles.

They mainly grabbed the growing shape under the yellow (now brown) tunic and he gasped again when he felt it move under his fingers, the pulsations going straight to his own cock.

"I need you." Was all the confirmation Kallus needed from Zeb as he unzipped the tight garnement and wrapped his fingers around the beautiful purple shaft.

The angle was awkward for his neck but he needed to see his hand against Zeb, not wanting to forget the mental picture.

"My gloves." He suddenly realised, the normally noble black leather now torn and covered in suspicious liquid against Zeb most probably delicate organ. "Let me remove them."

"Nah." Zeb immediately urged, his whole body twitching and forcing Kallus' against the wall. "Keep them."

Kallus felt his eyebrow raise in question but still didn't let go of the warm shaft, pushing and drooling of some unknown substance, most probably pre-cum.

He swirled his hand around the head, smearing some of that glistening and sticky liquid, taking his time to look at Zeb's face as the Lasat hummed and groaned at the touch.

"Like that?" He murmured, his nose nuzzling in that dirty fur, the musky smell filing his senses.

"Yeah. Fuck Kal', t'feels so good." Zeb moaned and Kallus felt like his own erection was starting to find the proper rythm against the large body, the wet fabric clinging to his skin.

"V'been wanting to do that since morning." The Lasat zcontinued to mumbled, lost in pleasure and Kallus continued to pinch and flick the sensitive nudges. "Karabast, you're so sexy in that uniform."

Kallus had not expected this admission but somehow it made the fabric on his skin easier to wear, the dark colours of the Empire a disgusting reminder of his past life.

"You dirty boy." Kallus growled in the sensitive ear and Zeb's body shook under his, a whine escaping that plush mouth. Part of him hesitated and he decided he'd blame adrenaline when he braced himself for his next words, said with the poshest accent he could manage. "Rebel Scum."

Garazeb groaned loudly, almost deafening Kallus in the tight soace and the whole shaft swelled between his fingers. Just as it spasmed of pleasure, a heavy white substance covered his arm and his clothes.

Kallus couldn't help but smile at the sight of Zeb in pleasure, holding him so tight and rubbing their body against each others as he continued to chase his own orgasm.

He could feel it nearing the overwhelming stage where nothing is enough and yet everything is pleasure and suddenly the large tongue of the Lasat ran across his neck. Kallus couldn't help but yelp as he came hard, his hips twitching and shaking as his leg almost gave up.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, their hands still tiredly exploring their dirty and spent bodies. Finally the walls moved away and they felt like they could breath again.

"Could have picked a better first date." Kallus snorted at the sight of them, their clothes disgusting from the garbage collector and their activity.

"I dunno, wouldn't be against repeating it." Zeb laughed softly.

"Do we need to get me a spare uniform?" He couldn't avoid making the joke, the adrenaline of their near death followed by unexpected orgasm not yet down again.

"At least the gloves." Zeb smile grew wide and infectious and Kallus decided to kiss it again for good measures.