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The twin suns shine their light inside one of the many hallways of Fett’s palace that you just so happen to be walking down. It is late evening, but the suns are only just now beginning to disappear on the horizon. You’re treading carefully since you have a large tray of food to balance. The sound of your steps echo off the walls.
You’re deep in thought as you approach your destination; the chambers of the daimyo, Boba Fett. He hasn’t called for the food you are bringing, but after months of working in the palace you have begun noticing days when he doesn’t eat. And today is one of those days. Of course, if you had noticed such a day months ago, you would not have dared to be so bold as to personally bring him food directly to his chambers, but through your time here you have, somewhat, gotten to know him. You remember when you first got the job here as a cook, you had asked Fennec, who had been tasked with the job interviews, why they couldn’t just get a droid to do it. Fennec had expressed Boba’s desire to provide jobs for his people. It surprised you then. All your life Boba Fett had always been an image of terror, but now this ex-bounty hunter wants to be a respected ruler? You had not believed it at the time, but you needed the job. Badly.
You have since then been proven wrong. Fett is, despite his reputation, a kind man, friendly even. As long as you don’t cross him. You have seen what happens to those who do. Most of them are fed to the rancor, but once, a few weeks back, an optimistic band of klatooinians decided that they would try to seize the throne. Bad move. You had just been called in by Fett to discuss Maker knows what, because before you’d known it six klatooinians had stormed into the throne room and havoc broke loose.
Blaster shots rang through the air and you had dived for cover behind a toppled over table. From there you had watched the fight unfold. And boy, was it a sight. Living on Tatooine, you have seen your fair share of violence, but nothing compares to the strong, precise and, above all, deadly movements of Fett. By the time you had been able to locate Boba, two of the intruders were already dead, the third one dropped a second later. And Fennec wasn’t even there. It was just Boba and the two gamorrean guards, but Boba all but stole the show. His blaster fired a hot plasma bolt straight into an intruder’s forehead and suddenly your heart was pounding for another reason. He had handled the blaster so fluently you almost forgot the death he brought with it. And your thighs clenched automatically when the last thug dropped.
Boba had smoothly holstered his weapon and rushed over to you. He had asked you if you were alright, but all you could muster was a nod as you suddenly saw the man in a much different light. He had looked perplexed at you, but accepted your answer.
Back to the present, you shake your head to try to clear the thoughts of the power he had held with that blaster and what other uses it may have in a different scenario. You are now at the doors to his chambers. You knock firmly and await an answer.
A muffled, “Come in,” sounded from behind the door. You manage to get the door open without dropping anything, but the real challenge comes when you see what Boba is doing. Your heart skips a beat. He is standing there, dressed in soft, black clothing and he is cleaning the very blaster you had been fantasising about moments prior. You must look stupid standing there, mouth slightly agape, eyes fixating on the way his hands diligently bring a cloth over the side of the weapon. You think about his hand running along your side instead. Rough hand grabbing at the flesh of your waist, hips, then sliding down to your bum. His other hand bringing his blaster to your chin–
“Yes?” he prompts with a raised brow, effectively snapping you out of your sinful thoughts. Your gaze lingers on the aforementioned object and you lick your lips. With your cheeks burning, it takes you a moment to focus, but when you do, you slightly raise the tray of food.
“I brought you dinner, sir. I noticed you haven’t eaten yet,” you say, shakily. His intense, brown eyes bore into yours and you fight to maintain eye contact, but he softens eventually. He puts the blaster down.
“Please, Boba will do,” he says with a soft smile, then starts walking towards you to take the tray out of your hands, “and thank you, mesh’la. Would you dine with me?” The question shocks you. Why did he want to dine with you? Sure, you had had several friendly conversations before, but you hadn’t thought he actually saw you as more than staff. Still, you hastily agree, afraid he might change his mind.
Eating with your boss sure is something when said boss’s mere presence demands so much respect. Maker, you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t do things to you. Throughout the late dinner, Boba surprises you by asking about your life, about things you had mentioned in passing, things that you didn’t expect him to remember. He also keeps calling you “mesh’la,” which you’ve no clue what means. His gaze always lingers on you longer than strictly necessary. Eyes filled with something you can’t quite place. It can’t be desire. That would be too good to be true. You meet the older man’s gaze when you are finished with your meal. He sits across from you at the small table by a tall window that shows the grounds below. He sighs so soft you almost don’t hear it.
“What to do with you, mesh’la,” he muses to himself, as he leans back in his chair. The insinuation that he wants you for something makes you raise your eyebrows. Your heart pounds as you answer.
“What do you want to do?” you manage to get out, hands mindlessly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. He leans forward in his seat.
“I think the real question is, what do you want me to do to you?” Your heart seems to stop momentarily. He licks his lower lip, running his eyes down your body and up again, “I’ve seen the way you look at me, little one.”
“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, dumbfounded. The corners of his mouth lift slightly. He rises from his seat to make his way over to you, all the while you’re holding your breath in anticipation. You eyes don’t leave his as his hand firmly, but gently tilts your head up by your chin. You swallow, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Tell me you want this, mesh’la,” he demands, “or this won’t go any further.” His hand is warm against your skin and you lean into his touch. You’ve never wanted anything more badly than this, so you tell him with a trembling voice. “That’s good, baby. If you want this to end, you will say so. Understand?” You nod your understanding, eyes wide.
“No, use your words, ad’ika,” he commands, slightly tightening his grip on your chin.
“Yes, sir, I understand,”
“Good,” then suddenly his hand is replaced by something much colder. He guides you to stand up and you realise with a suppressed gasp that it’s the blaster he’s using. When did he even fetch that? He smiles a self satisfied smile at your reaction. The tip of the blaster trails from your chin, down your jaw and throat, past your chest where it circles a hard nipple through the fabric of your shirt, and down to rest loosely at your tummy. He has stepped closer to you and you can feel his hot breath on your face. You can feel your cunt clench at the danger of the situation. If he wanted to, he could shoot you dead in less than two seconds, but instead, he closes the distance between your faces, kissing you so sweetly, you almost forget the cold barrel of the blaster pointed into your side. The kiss soon turns hungry as he pulls you in with his free arm and deepens the kiss when you gasp. Your arms come to wrap around his neck. His hand maps out your side and back, eventually sliding down to squeeze at your ass and you moan into his mouth.
One of your arms drop from his neck and you begin exploring his clothed chest, tugging at his shirt subconsciously. He starts backing you toward what you estimate to be his bedroom. He is planting kisses down your jaw and further down to your pulse point, nipping and sucking at it. You’re already moaning and whimpering in pleasure. Suddenly, the backs of your knees hit a firm mattress and Boba roughly pushes you down onto it.
“Strip,” he commands you, blaster pointed casually in your direction, before he swiftly holsters it, crossing his arms to look at you. You can feel a fire burning in your belly as you obey his order. You sit up to quickly pull off your shirt and trousers, but pause at your underwear and hesitantly look up to Boba for guidance. He nods approvingly and you take a deep breath before pulling off the rest, leaving you completely naked under his lustful gaze. He takes his time taking you in. Feeling insecure, you move your arms to cover you, but he grabs ahold of them and firmly leads them to rest at your sides.
“Don’t hide from me, little one,” he tells you, and with that, he pulls off his own shirt, exposing his broad chest and soft stomach. Your eyes take him in hungrily and he lets you for a little while, before the blaster is at your chin again, making you look up at his eyes. You suck in a breath at the action and he chuckles lightly. “You like this, huh?” He trails the tip up to press it against your temple, “Like the power I hold over you right now, mesh’la?” You whimper out a quiet, “Yes sir,” and press your thighs together, desperately wanting friction for your now soaked pussy.
“What does mesh’la mean?” You finally ask, slightly afraid of killing the mood, but also very curious since he really seems to like calling you it. One corner of his mouth twitches up in a slight smirk. He takes his sweet time answering the question, making you think he is ignoring it. The blaster moves down your cheek, to your lips, gently caressing them with the deadly weapon. He orders you to suck it. You oblige embarrassingly fast, sucking the, thankfully clean, barrel into your mouth. His eyes are glued to the way you carefully suck the cylindrical part in and out between your soft lips. He pulls your hair gently with his other hand.
“It means beautiful,” he replies, softly. You whimper involuntarily at that and feel your clit throb. He curses at the sound you just made and pulls out the weapon. “Down on your back, legs spread wide.”
When you’ve gotten into his desired position, he takes a moment to appreciate your wet, throbbing cunt, glistening in what’s now moonlight. You buck your hips up to entice him further and, boy, does it work. He practically jumps on you, letting his weight weigh you down comfortably, and roughly kisses you. His teeth catch your bottom lip between them, just shy of drawing blood. Your hands roam his body, from his neck, down to his pecs and further down. You grope his hard bulge, emboldened by his grunts of pleasure, but he breaks from your lips and begins making his way down your body, stopping at your chest to tease and suck on your nipples. He leaves bites in his wake as his mouth travels down your body, pausing at your hip bones to give them extra attention. You gasp when he bites down in a particularly sensitive spot. Groping at your hips and thighs, the older man is making damn sure none of you goes untouched. Yet, he seems to enjoy depriving you of his mouth where you need him most.
“Please, Boba, I need you,” you whine out, trying to buck your hips up, but he holds you down firmly. He places a final, sloppy kiss to your inner thigh.
“Tell me what you need, little one,” he all but growls, looking straight up at you. You whine again and your pussy clenches around nothing at his guttural tone. “Look at you clenching your cunt for me. Such a good, little slut,” he punctuates by kneading your inner thigh. Your brain is scrambled from the praise, beginning a mantra of “please, please, please.”
A slap to your thigh brings you back, “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says sternly.
Remembering his question command through the lusty haze of your mind proved difficult. It isn’t made easier by Boba’s continued marking of your thighs and hipbones. “Please, I–I need you to– fuck– I need your mouth on my pussy, please,” you trill, gathering your thoughts at last.
“That’s a good whore.” And with that, he delves right into your pussy, licking a long stripe up from your hole to your clit. He moans at your taste. You are already a mess again, trying in vain to buck your hips against his solid hold on them. He allows you to writhe under him, enjoying how absolutely desperate you’ve become for him. As he begins licking your cunt in earnest, he grips your thighs and places them on his shoulders, allowing him more access to your dripping juices. He is growling into your pussy, sending vibrations through it and making you moan out in pleasure. You notice him slowly grinding his hips into the bed, seeking friction and you groan at the sight. A sweaty mess, you can already feel your orgasm approaching as he hones in on your hard bundle of nerves. The feeling solidifies as he unexpectedly inserts a finger into your cunt, curling it upwards just so it hits a magic spot inside you. Your orgasm hits you like a train. You’re a screaming, writhing mess and Boba is enjoying every second of seeing and hearing you like this. He is helping you ride this wave of ecstasy, voicing his praise into your pussy lips, til you begin twitching from overstimulation.
Crawling over you once again, Boba captures your lips in a messy kiss. You can taste yourself on him. He starts grinding his clothed cock into your drenched pussy, letting you feel just how hard he has gotten for you, not caring about his ruined trousers. You wrap your legs around him to pull him further down to you.
“Does my baby need something?” he asks in his rough voice. You nod and sigh wantonly, proud to be called his. “So soon after cumming? Insatiable, little slut.” You smile blissfully at that.
“Need your cock, sir,” you say, emboldened by your post orgasm high, then add a “please” for good measure. Boba can’t get over you calling him sir. Ever since he first heard you calling him that, he has wanted you. So, of course the man is ready to give you whatever you ask for. He sits up on his haunches, slowly beginning to undo his belt, keeping direct eye contact with you. Your breaths come shakily in anticipation of what’s to come. Pushing down his trousers along with his underwear, Boba’s dick springs out from its confines. He’s big. You sigh and spread your legs as far as you can. Boba smiles slightly at that, dark brown irises almost completely overtaken by his pupils. He strokes himself lazily, appreciating your eager form. Just when you begin to beg, he silently drops himself down over you again, praising you for being so good. He leaves open mouthed kisses on your chest and up your neck before he stops to look you in the eyes, whilst gliding his member through your folds.
“You want this? Want my cock inside that sweet pussy?”
Your face warms and you nod, before hastily remembering his earlier demand, then letting out a breathy, “Yes, please.”
“Good,” he says, before lining himself up, popping the head in. You whine out in both pleasure at the slight stretch and frustration that he stops moving. “What’s that, ad’ika? Speak up,” his tone is deeper now. You can tell he’s straining to not just slide all the way in and pound you into the mattress. The thought makes you clench around him, making him growl and spank your thigh again. The look he sends you tells you this is your last warning.
“Please, Boba, I can take it. Please fuck me,” you look up at him with your best puppy dog eyes, “Want you, sir.”
He leans down to kiss you hungrily, slowly sliding himself further into you. When he bottoms out you both let out sighs of pleasure. He kisses and nips at your neck, sucking a nice bruise into it, making sure to tell you how good you are, how tight you feel around him.
Growing impatient, you lift your hips to encourage him to move, eyes closed in needily, but then you feel that cold object from before at your chin again. You whine and get impossibly tighter around him, knowing exactly what it is. His finger is nowhere near the trigger, but the thought of what he can do with it instantly makes you beg for him to move.
With the blaster pressed up against the bottom of your chin, you can only look into his dark eyes as he sets a slow, but rough pace. Sliding out of you slowly, letting you feel his cock drag against your sensitive walls, then snapping back inside you harshly, pushing you up the bed. He’s grunting at the feel of you, stretched so deliciously around him.
The sounds of your moans and gasps spurs him on and soon he’s pounding into you, your sweaty bodies filling the room with sounds of skin slapping against skin. You are a complete mess. Your cunt is making noises you’d be embarrassed about had you not been as fucked out as you are right now, blubbering on about how good Boba feels.
“That right, little one? Who’s making you feel this good, hm?” Boba asks, in between thrusts, pressing his blaster to your temple instead.
“Y–you are,” you whimper, not registering anything but pleasure.
“Say my name,” he growls, punctuating with a hard thrust.
“Fuck! Boba, you are! You feel so good Boba, fuck, please,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for at this point. He bites at your neck, before kissing it better.
“When you cum, you’re going to scream my name, understand?” You yelp out your understanding, as he continues biting and sucking at your skin, marking you up for days to come. You’re raking your nails down his back, leaving scratches in your wake, needing to hold on to something.
Soon, it all becomes so much. His cock drilling into you, suddenly repeatedly hitting the exact spot that makes you go wild. His solid body on top of you. His whispers of praise laced with degrading nicknames. And the fucking blaster pressed into your head. You can feel your second orgasm fast approaching and Boba senses it too, with the way you’re tightening up and twitching around him.
“Cum for me, mesh’la.”
And, Maker, you do. Screaming his name for the whole palace to hear. He places the blaster down on the bed and uses his, now free, hand to rub circles into your clit, helping you through this mind wrecking feeling. Boba doesn’t stop thrusting when you come down and soon you’re a crying mess from the overstimulation. You’re loving every second. His cock twitches inside you and you know he’s close.
“P–please, Boba, inside!” You plead, and he looks at you seriously as if to ask if you’re sure. “I have the implant, fuck, please, I need you to fill me up, sir,” you reassure him.
That does it for him. Groaning, he thrusts harshly and slightly out of rhythm until he spills his load inside you, making you feel his warm seed filling you up. The sensation makes you clench around him, effectively milking his cock for every last drop.
You’re both panting and you whimper when he slips out of you. You can feel his seed slowly dripping out of your wrecked pussy. He seems to notice too, as he gathers up what has slipped out and pushes it right back in. You are absolutely his, ruined for anyone else. You both spend some time coming down from your highs, but Boba moves first, momentarily leaving you there on the bed, legs still spread, completely blissed out. He comes back a minute later with a warm, wet cloth and starts cleaning you up, taking care to get everything as clean as possible. Your heart warms at the gesture and you sit up slightly, leaning on your elbows, and look at him when he’s done. His face appears expressionless, but you know better. There’s a fond smile on his lips as he gazes at your naked form and, in that moment, you never want to leave his side. You figure it will have to happen eventually anyway. But not quite yet.
“Cuddle me?” Again, with those eyes he can’t resist. He leans over to kiss you softly, almost lovingly, before he gets into bed with you.
“Of course, mesh’la.”