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Little Deaths - chapter 4 -
🕑 Added 2021-09-11 19:13:40 +0000 UTCHere is the next installment for my WIP fic. There are 6 chapters planned, so we are more than halfway done now! This features my favorite Star Wars planet, Hoth, and is so far the longest chapter I believe. Lots of delicious angst here and oh yeah they have sex about it. Enjoy!
TW : rough oral sex, talk of death, talk of killing, mild sub/dom elements, dirty talk, possible humiliation/shame talk
Promotion never came for Kallus, but increased fulcrum missions did, now that he had a ship of his own and a meager crew that rotated every few months, except for D4 that is. But someone had been promoted eventually in Rebel Intelligence to handle the fulcrum agents, replacing Draven nearly two years ago, an ordinary looking man by the ordinary name of Antilles. He always ended their debriefs with a ‘good lad’ for his efforts, something a much older man might say, which always seemed odd since Kallus was pretty certain they were of similar age.
Tonight was no different. Antilles had nodded gravely, pursed his lips and placed a hand on Kallus’ shoulder, as if that would help him with anything. “Had to be done, he would have talked. Get some R&R while you can. I’ll see you in a rotation, there’s a good lad.”
He didn’t deserve that token addendum, not with how he utterly failed his mission. He wasn't good.
Kallus walked numbly through Echo Base, which was not a good thing to do in the winding, narrow catacombs in the ice. He’s pretty sure he made several wrong turns, too lost in his thoughts to remember the way back to his ship. The frozen halls weren’t busy, the night cycle well underway, and while the Rebellion never slept, most kept to a somewhat normal schedule. This made it harder to navigate, with no one to ask or follow behind blindly.
After an hour of his trek, Kallus finally ended up in a secluded strip of corridor, just at the edge of one of the hangers. There were a few sounds of tinkering and bustle out in the crowded area; crowded not so much in terms of people, but of the smaller freighters and fighters of the Rebellion’s dwindling fleet, crammed like puzzle pieces inside the shelter of the large blast door. The Glimmer was there, at the fringes, being one of the last to arrive before they closed the doors for the night.
Kallus stopped himself from continuing into the hanger and stood behind a corner, just out of sight; so he was surrounded only by icy walls.
Thinking about it, after all the years and all the things he'd been through, after all that he had done, Kallus was surprised he had lasted this long before it all seemed too much to compartmentalize. He clenched his gloved fists and he broke.
He punched the icy, unyielding wall. He punched it again and again until he slapped a gloved palm against the surface and covered his mouth with his parka’s sleeve and bit down hard as he screamed into it. For the first time in a long time, Kallus cried tears of anger and grief.
He should have known, he should have known.
“I can do good for the Rebellion, here, report back anything relevant to you.” The boy, for fuck’s sake probably no older than twenty, had said to him. And Kallus, the proud fool that he was, had agreed; had remembered his own kriffing words: I can do more good here, and agreed.
He should have insisted that the boy defect, then and there, and dragged him to the Glimmer. That was the mission: get the information and ascertain if the defector could be trusted and bring him in. He should have noticed the tail the boy had picked up in the crowd as he left the cantina sooner. But he had been distracted. The boy's eyes, blue like cornflowers, had reminded Kallus of someone else, and he wanted to give this boy the righteous mission he so obviously wanted to prove he could do.
The boy had been a Rebellion spy for less than five minutes before he died. Perhaps ten, if Kallus counted the time it took him to lose his own tail and follow the squad of troopers across the rooftops, assembling his rifle to the sniper formation as he went. He had no choice. Rescue was impossible even with his backup waiting on the Glimmer; they wouldn't get there in time. The boy would have talked. He would have been forced to talk.
Approaching the Imperial shuttle, the boy had dug his heels in for a final resistance, Kallus had heard him from his position above -it wasn't me, I'm not a traitor, he was, it wasn't me! I wouldn't-
He had aimed his rifle, had seen the face of Yogar Lyste through the scope, and taken the shot.
Alexsandr Kallus had killed that boy, too.
Of all the people and beings Kallus had killed, directly or not, with the Empire or the Rebellion, this one -a boy he’d only just met- infected him; plagued him to his core. But usually where there was infection, there was fever and heat, and at the moment all Kallus felt was cold. He was solid, frozen, an unwanted storm on the horizon.
He was numb. He couldn’t feel himself anymore.
Kallus went uninterrupted for several minutes in the deserted hallway, his anguish kept private in the carved walls of Echo Base. Eventually, he made his way into the hanger, having schooled his sobs into a sniffle, his red eyes and face easily explained away as being from the bitter cold of Hoth. He didn't walk to the far side where the Glimmer was, instead making a direct path to the Ghost.
When he got just under the hull, he tried his short range comm frequency to ping Zeb's. He hit it again after a few moments, and this time, Zeb's voice came over it, tinny and low, sleep laced and endearing: "I'm comin', Kal."
The ramp to the cargo bay lowered a minute later and Kallus climbed aboard. It was cold in the Ghost, almost as cold as the hanger was. Kallus knew this was because the ships had been instructed to keep their life support temps low to mask their heat and energy signatures, but he had come to associate the Ghost with a certain… warmth.
"How was the mission -oh," Zeb began and stopped himself, his eyes searching over Kallus as if he were injured. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No," Kallus said firmly. He blinked away tears continuing to sting at his eyes. Zeb placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, much as Antilles had attempted, only this time it felt heartbreakingly good. It was everything he needed. Almost.
"Are you alright?" Zeb asked.
"No," Kallus harshly whispered. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Zeb's thermal jumpsuit and anchored himself there. He hoped Zeb would understand what he needed without him voicing it, asking for it, begging for it.
Zeb wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled into his neck, the soft bristles of his facial hair rubbing roughly into Kallus' exposed skin. Zeb opened his mouth and bit at his throat, then his jaw, and then his ear. His teeth scored over him, not breaking skin, but they were sharp enough for Kallus to feel like they were. Kallus sagged his weight into the embrace, the nips of pain almost drowned out by the waves of want now washing over him.
Zeb always understood.
“Let’s go to my bunk, it’s warmer there,” Zeb spoke softly into his ear and took Kallus’ hand and led him through the Ghost, as if he were new to the ship, and hadn’t obsessed over the schematics when he was still an Imperial chasing them. He let Zeb lead him all the same, without a comment or hesitation.
It had been a while since Kallus had been in Zeb’s bunkroom. Lately, when they had come together to fuck, it had been wherever they could get enough privacy. Usually that meant a maintenance room, refresher, or most often the Glimmer. Kallus’ crewmates had never seemed bothered by his (sometimes loud) affairs; at least had never made any complaints, beyond a few teases by the braver ones.
Zeb’s space was much the same as it always was, with the addition of a woven hammock that was slung across where the top bunk used to be. There were hand-drawn pictures on flimsi taped to the walls and a signature Wren painted mural on the ceiling showing a warm sunset with tall grasses and rounded mountains. There were loth-cats and loth-wolves and even loth-bats. Lothal was rendered quite lovely in the art.
These Rebels have an attachment to this place and will always return.
“Jacen would sleep in ‘ere sometimes,” Zeb explained, shaking Kallus from his unwanted memories. The lasat was already moving about the room, adjusting the small portable heater to a notch higher. He had a sad, but proud smile on his lips. “Said it was his favorite place on the ship, besides the cockpit with Hera, that is.”
Kallus knew that the child had been taken to live with his Grandfather on Ryloth not but a few weeks prior. A close-call had obviously been too close with the boy, and apparently the difficult decision had to be made.
Had to be done.
Kallus shivered in the room and felt his voice continue to fail him. He wanted to offer Zeb consolation, his sympathy. He obviously missed the boy terribly. The dangers of war had no place for a child of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt for their family to be separated from so many of its members like it was. They were a skeleton crew of a family, and Kallus admired Zeb all the more for his strength to endure, and with a smile no less. Even if it was a facade, it was still brave of him.
Zeb began to peel his thermals down until he was fully undressed, both of them easy by now in their nakedness with each other. He reached for Kallus next, but Kallus gave a shake of his head and used a fair bit of strength to push Zeb backwards until he sat on the edge of the extended bunk, a slightly confused look on his face.
He tossed his parka off his shoulders and removed his boots and gloves before he fell to his knees in front of Zeb, his weight thudding to the durasteel beneath without any finesse. Zeb, aroused but giving him a questioning look, shifted and licked his lips.
“I want you down my throat,” Kallus said, angry that the words were now coming to him, but only for his wants and needs. He was a selfish, arrogant bastard, though, he should have known that. He should have known.
Fuck.
Kallus buried his face into the crease where Zeb’s thigh met his hip and inhaled, wedging his wide shoulders between his legs. Zeb’s cock was already well on his way out of his sheath, and Kallus rubbed his cheek against it before turning his head and mouthing at it filthily. He licked and kissed at the slick sparkling in the dim lighting, letting it coat his tongue and mouth.
It wasn’t the first time Kallus had given head to the other man, but while it was usually just a precursor to things, that wasn’t what he intended for tonight. He wanted the intensity and the burn, but his satisfaction would come last after Zeb’s, if at all. Kallus didn’t deserve to feel nearly as good as he would make Zeb feel.
He slid a hand up and gave a fondling squeeze to Zeb’s balls before wrapping his fingers around the wet length now standing proud from its sheath. He gave a few full pumps with his fist, watching Zeb squirm and breathe heavier above him. Then Kallus wrapped his lips around the very tip and flicked at the big nub on the underside of Zeb’s cockhead with his thumb.
“Karabast, Kal,” Zeb gasped, his voice strained in the hum of the room, probably trying to stay quiet with the Ghost’s shared, thin walls.
Kallus sucked at just the head of Zeb’s cock, narrow and heart shaped, giving the barest of nips with his blunt teeth along the slit at the top. Zeb thighs shuddered around him and he felt a big hand touch the top of his head. He looked up at Zeb and nipped again at the tip. Then he let his jaw go slack, made sure they had eye contact, and took the entire length into his mouth. It slid along his tongue and down his throat with a fullness that made him ache.
He pulled back, letting the whole thing pop from his lips obscenely, took in a shaky breath, and deep throated him again. He held Zeb there, savoring the tight stretch of his lips and the choking feeling rising in the back of his throat. He swallowed and sucked, hard, and Zeb twitched all around him. He could hear him swearing low, his rumbling voice not fit for whispers.
Then Kallus began to bob his head quickly and Zeb gasped, loud and surprised, in the dark of the room. Kallus closed his eyes and went harder, the nubs and ridges of Zeb’s cock pulling and pushing at the contours of his mouth, rubbing them almost raw.
He could barely breathe but fuck it reminded him of the night he had the belt around his neck and had listened to Zeb jerk himself off. He knew the speed Zeb liked, had felt him pound it into his ass so many times now, and he simulated that as best he could.
Kallus felt Zeb’s hands rake into his hair, the claws running along his scalp, and then Zeb tugged. Kallus’ eyes rolled and his eyelashes fluttered, his movements slowing enough for him to savor it before Zeb held his head and rocked his hips up. Oh yes oh stars, Kallus thought as Zeb fucked his face, chasing his own pleasure, taking and using him in the best of ways.
Dark began to creep into his vision and Kallus knew he had to pull off for more air. Breathing through his nose was not enough, not when it was repeatedly smashed flush with the soft fur and hard muscles of Zeb’s abdomen. Before he could think of tapping to stop, Zeb seemed to sense this and pulled Kallus up off his cock.
Kallus gulped in air, his mouth and jaw sore from it all, his chin covered in saliva and Zeb's slick. He looked up in a haze into Zeb's luminous green eyes that were heavy with lust but worried too.
"Karabast Kal, breathe," Zeb hissed, still trying to stay quiet. He gave Kallus a nervous smile after he watched him take in several steadying breaths. "Got a bit carried away, eh?"
Zeb smoothed a hand through his hair, tucking loose strands back and petting at him with a care and tenderness that made Kallus ache in a whole different way.
"I want it," Kallus assured him, still trying to catch his breath, his voice hoarse. His knees were also beginning to protest his position, but he clutched at his right leg and endured. "I want to."
"Kal…"
"I want to," Kallus implored, repeating it. He didn't want to beg, but he would. "Please."
Zeb frowned and tilted his head at him, concerned. It was a strange look, especially with his cock still massively erect and prominent between them. "Something's different. What's wrong?"
Kallus scowled, feeling the frustration bubbling hot in his chest. "Nothing's wrong, I'm giving you what you want. Shove that cock in and fuck yourself down my dirty Imperial throat, make me feel it."
Make me pay.
"That's not- you're not-" Zeb cut himself off and blinked heavily.
Kallus ran a sweat and slick covered hand harshly through his hair, trying to lock the strands back so he resembled his former self, coiffed and rigid. "Deep as you want, lasat. Fuck my throat raw and choke me with your come."
"Alexsandr!" Zeb growled and Kallus was caught off guard by the use of his first name. The intimacy of it crumbled his masquerade, leaving him vulnerable and adrift, not knowing what to do.
Then Zeb bent down and captured his lips in a firm kiss, tender and evocative. Kallus melted into the wet heat of it, feeling Zeb cup his head and tilt it back as he leaned further into him, deepening the kiss. When Zeb finally pulled back, he kept Kallus close to speak against his lips.
"Don't want that. Haven't thought about it that way in a long time. I don't want an Imperial," Zeb said earnestly.
"What do you want?" Kallus asked, thinking he would comply with anything Zeb asked for.
"You," Zeb said simply.
Kallus could feel himself breaking again. No one should want him. Him, as he was now? He was a killer; he was the same now as he had been when he was an Imperial, he was the same as when he could do more good here, and sent Lyste to his death by implicating him. He was the same-
Zeb kissed him again and damn it all to the seven Corellian hells, Kallus let him. He let him wipe his mind and conscience clear with his intensity, with his affection. Kallus was so fucking selfish.
"I want you," Zeb assured him, "I like to watch you come, feel you come. So if you want to give me what I want, if that's what you need tonight, then get up here with me."
After only a brief hesitation, Kallus stood and made to crawl into the bunk, but Zeb held his hips close and nuzzled at his belly, giving him a disagreeing grunt of sound.
"Clothes first, Kal. Want you naked and under me." Zeb was already working on his belt and pants when Kallus peeled his heavy thermal shirt off.
Kallus slid into the bunk once he was fully nude, thanks to Zeb's assistance, and was positioned to lay on his belly, hands above his head and face turned to the side. Zeb straddled his body and leaned over him, one hand holding both of his wrists down, his other slathering his asshole with slick from his own sex.
"I want this, Kal, want you," Zeb murmured into his ear, "I think about fucking you when you're not near me; when you are. I think about it when I fuck my hand when you're not here."
Kallus shook his head, weakly replying, "You shouldn't. I'm not- What if I-"
"Shut up, none of that. I'm talkin' and you're gonna just listen," Zeb growled and then began to press his cock inside him, the tip slipping past his rim and working him open.
Kallus indeed shut up and his entire body shuddered. He tilted his hips to press upwards, to seek more, to take more. Zeb dipped his tapered head in and out, the wet sound audible even over Zeb's breath and words in his ear.
“Feel how wet you make me? You make me drip just thinking about bein’ inside you,” Zeb purred, giving his cheek and ear a biting kiss before adjusting and sinking his cock fully inside.
The stretch, as always, was a glorious ache and Kallus moaned softly in pleasure. Zeb also let out an indulgent exhale, his hot breath tickling the hair behind Kallus’ ear. Zeb nuzzled his head against Kallus’ and inhaled with his nose buried in his hair. He peppered him with kisses as he began to rock shallowly.
“Kriff, you’re so tight fer me,” Zeb murmured and brought his other hand up so that both were occupied with holding Kallus’ down above him. He gave a press and squeeze, claws digging in wonderfully at his wrists.
Kallus was surrounded by Zeb; fur of all textures all along his body (soft and bristly), powerful thighs bracketing his own, big hands holding his arms at bay, a thick cock buried to the hilt inside him, and his breath and words directly in his ear.
"I want this every time, Kal. You an’ me, just like this,” Zeb breathed hotly and began to hump his hips powerfully, pressing in and out of Kallus’ body with strength and care. “Fuck, just like this, Kal, oh karabast, you make me feel alive.”
Kallus’ dick had never been harder, pressed beneath him and rubbing hard into Zeb’s bunk. It was all overwhelming and so kriffing good; Kallus whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the moisture of his tears. He would give Zeb everything he wanted, because he deserved it. If it meant Zeb took his pleasure from his body, from him (of all people), then he would for as long as he could.
“I know you need it hard,” Zeb continued, his measured and heavy thrusts punctuating his words, “I know you need to feel it for days. Lemme give it to you, oh how I love to give that to you.”
Kallus felt his climax approaching quickly; a tower building itself too high, gleaming and ready to topple with the barest of nudges.
As if Zeb could sense it too, he hurried his pace. “That’s it, sweetheart, come for me, all over my bed. I wanna smell you for days in my bunk.”
Kallus came so hard he shook, shouting under the cover of Zeb’s palm, placed there almost too late to muffle the sound. He gasped and writhed, the sticky mess spurting beneath him in a wet smear. Zeb had only paused a moment, as if to savor Kallus’ pleasure, before he slammed back into a relentless rhythm.
“Oh fuck -gonna knot, I’m gonna knot,” Zeb rasped desperately into his hair, “Kal?”
Kallus gave the barest nod to the small, but meaningful, question.
Zeb gave a stifled, loud moan into Kallus’ neck and Kallus felt Zeb’s cock swell. The base just inside his rim filled him impossibly fuller, and there was a surge of movement deep inside as Zeb’s cock released its copious load of spend. It was unlike anything Kallus had ever felt before and he savored every fullness, every throb and every pang of feeling flaring at where Zeb was locked together with him.
“So good, so good fer me,” Zeb babbled, breathing harshly into his ear, “Just like this, Kal -just like this, sweetheart…”
The endearment wrenched at Kallus, bright and burning into his core and twisting his insides into a confused and aching glow that refused to fade. It continued to smolder within him as Zeb twitched and spilled the last of his orgasm inside him, and it continued still, long after Zeb pulled out and climbed off of him and helped clean the mess they had made.
Kallus was left quiet and languid in the aftermath, hesitantly curled into Zeb’s side and sore still from their activities. Kallus wanted to but couldn’t bear to ask why Zeb had decided to knot him, after all the times he made sure not to. Why had now been any different? He should probably leave, but he was comfortable with his aches and the warmth of the cabin, and the way Zeb felt beside him.
“What happened… on the mission?” Zeb asked, sounding unsure but undaunted.
Kallus let out a small sigh and angled his head into Zeb’s shoulder. “Ask me tomorrow.”
“Hmm, tomorrow,” Zeb replied and Kallus felt him take in a big, steadying breath. “You, uh, stayin’ then?”
This was his chance to leave, to make the excuse and just leave. Zeb had sounded hopeful, though, like he actually wanted him to stay. “If you’ll have me,” Kallus found himself saying.
Zeb hummed and pulled him in closer. “I’ll always have you.”
Even if tomorrow was a terrifying thought for him, one that had always plagued him, Kallus relaxed and eventually found sleep under the brushstrokes of a Lothal sunset.
Comments
Carrie Brady
You know that thing that Kermit the Frog does when he's excited at the beginning of the Muppet Show? WIth his arms flailing in the air? That's what my brain is doing right now.
