Guess who's back, guys? I haven't been active for a while, but I'm fixing that right now. I promise I'm working on some other stuff right now as well, but for now I have a handful of some Star Wars drabbles for you to enjoy. Yeah, I know some of them are bit long to be called 'drabbles' by the 100 word/500 word limit definition, but I will literally shake my head at my computer screen in disappointment if you bring that up in the comments. I'm probably going to be jumping round a lot with these so I'm not really going to put characters/ships in the description, but I will be putting a list of the ships/warnings/etc. at the beginning of every chapter. There will be five stories per chapter. So buckle up, buttercup, and lets get this show on the road.

I. Chain of Command: Thrawn/Pellaeon

Pellaeon stood near the end of the bed, carefully testing the tightness of the belt keeping Thrawn's hands tied behind his back. He swallowed hard as he tried to slide a finger into the tight circle of leather along next to the pair of wrists and barely succeeded. There wasn't any reason to do this, he had already asked Thrawn if he was comfortable and okay and was still sure that he wanted to do this, and he had received a yes in response to all of his questions.

Making sure that Thrawn still had some circulation to his hands was mostly to comfort Pellaeon himself. Thrawn had already told the Captain that he was perfectly fine and even implied that he could handle the belt being a little tighter, but Pellaeon didn't want to push it.

Slowly, he slid his finger back out of the makeshift restraint and pressed his hand against the middle of Thrawn's back. It felt odd, being the one in control, but when Thrawn arched so beautifully against his hand he couldn't help but shudder. Walking around the edge of the cot, Pellaeon made his way up to where Thrawn's head rested on a pillow, never lifting his gaze or his hand away from the other man's back as it slid up his spine. When Pellaeon's hand reached his hairline he let it stop, wrapping his fingers loosely around the back of the man's neck. He could feel his pulse quicken under his thumb and he looked away from his hand to Thrawn's eyes.

They seemed to be glowing brighter than usual, and when Thrawn caught his eyes he swallowed hard at the amount of arousal and want he saw in them. Sucking in a deep breath Pellaeon let his own eyes shut for a moment, letting himself push away anything that would keep him from being able to completely satisfy the other. This whole concept was a bit new to him in practice, but that didn't mean he wanted to mess it up on his first try. Finally, after going over their safewords for the tenth time in his head, he opened his eyes and stared down at Thrawn.

"Are you ready?" He asked, finally feeling fully comfortable with his role.

"Yes," Thrawn replied softly, already sounding a bit breathless.

He wrapped his fingers tighter around Thrawn's neck and pushed down, forcing his head hard into the pillow. "Yes what?" Pellaeon hissed to the other.

He couldn't stop his shiver as the other spoke. He could hear the smile practically dripping from his voice as he replied. "Yes, sir."

II. Only in Dreams: Thrawn/Thrawn, Pellaeon (or Thrawn/Flim, Pellaeon if you'd prefer that)

Pellaeon knew he was dreaming. His room was abnormally bare, just a bed and table with a lamp on top of it, softly illuminating the area around it. He didn't even own a lamp.

The two blue men toppling onto his bed, their lips pressing against each other frantically as the bounced onto his mattress was just confirmation of what he already knew.

Their mouths and hands roamed either other, and spit dripped down the bottom Thrawn's chin as their kiss deepened. Pellaeon felt as if the room had warmed, and while he knew dreaming of thing like this wasn't appropriate, he couldn't help but stare a little harder at the two when he caught a brief flash of red when their lips separated just a hair too much.

It felt wrong- Thrawn had been deceased now for ten years- but the rumors of the Grand Admiral coming back from the dead had filled him with some hope. Apparently, they had filled him with something else too.

The Thrawn on top sat up before reaching down and ripping open the other Thrawn's uniform tunic and suddenly Pellaeon wanted to reach out and touch them. He refrained though, if for no other reason than the fear that this might turn into some horrific nightmare if he interrupted them. Top Thrawn licked his lips before arching down, pressing his mouth against the other Admiral's neck. He moved downwards swiftly, leaving a glinting trail of saliva as he licked down the bottom Thrawn's chest to his nipple. As he wrapped his lips around the sensitive nub and the other Thrawn moaned hotly, Pellaeon could feel his own erection straining in his pants.

He finally gave in when bottom Thrawn's boots scrabbled against the floor as he tried to gain some purchase to arch against the other Thrawn's mouth when he bit into the hardening nub and pulled upwards on it with his teeth. The noise seemed to break the attentions of the two aliens and they both turned to look at him, one arching an eyebrow and the other panting loudly. Realizing his mistake, Pellaeon tried to apologize but a soft smirk from the Thrawn on top silence him.

"Ah, good evening Commander," He said calmly, running a hand down the other Thrawn's chest as he spoke. "We were beginning to think you would not show up."

"I- ah," Pellaeon stuttered, not quite sure how to respond.

Top Thrawn arched his eyebrow again and bottom Thrawn slowly propped himself up on an elbow to gaze up at Pellaeon. "No reason to be so nervous, Commander." His eyes never left Pellaeon's as one of his hands began to slid the torn uniform off of the other Thrawn's shoulders. "No reason to just watch either, though."

The words were soft, but Pellaeon could hear a challenge in them. The dark, lust filled gazes he was getting from the two Thrawns were certainly not helping either. He considered just watching them for a bit but a distinct tightness in his pants disagreed heavily with that.

Glancing at the two men one last time, he began walking towards the bed as he began unfastening his own tunic. It was impossible to miss the twin smiles of approval he received in return, or the way it made his cock throb to look at them.

III. Sound: Parck, Thrawn

Parck groaned as his head fell back against the couch he was sitting on, his fingers tightening around his cock as he stroked upwards. A part of his mind was counting down the seconds until he had to go back to the bridge, but the internal clock was taking a backseat to the image of Thrawn bound in wrist binders underneath him. It was a very satisfying thought, and with enough time the Captain could have easily gotten off to the image of a very submissive Thrawn. Time was not on his side though, and he needed something else.

He had been a close friend to Thrawn for a few years now, but he really didn't have any idea of what the other man would be sexually into. Not that that was a surprise. More of a disappointment at the most. And while the fantasy of a bound and pleading Thrawn was absolutely fantastic, he knew that was all it was. A fantasy. He needed something else right now, something more to push him over that edge. Just a little something. Anything.

His voice, he realized with sudden clarity.

Oh Empire.

His hips stuttered violently as he suddenly thrust up to meet his hand. He wondered why he hadn't thought of that before. Thrawn had a voice that could either stop a war or start one depending on what he said. Smooth baritone, sliding out from between those lips could make more than one person turn their head. He knew, he had watched both men and women stare openly when Thrawn spoke. And when he occasionally slipped back into his own language, it was the spoken equivalent to sex.

Parck groaned loudly as he pumped faster, not even trying to stop his hips from rising up off of the couch. In the distance, he hear a light tapping sound, but he told himself it was just the ship shifting and that it had been doing that more often and he really needed to get a technician to check that out and oh, yes. He tried replaying chunks of conversation he had with Thrawn, recalling sentences as if his life depended on it, envisioning what his cries of pleasure would sound like and slowly he could feel himself-

He heard his door open, footsteps entering his room as a someone spoke. "Captain Parck?" A very familiar voice called out, as calm an cool as it usually was.

His eyes flew open and he arched as his orgasm overtook him, that voice finally bringing him over the edge.

IV: Hurt and Comfort: Thrawn/Pellaeon

Pellaeon could feel his anger rising with his voice as he pointed an accusing finger at the other man. Thrawn looked equally furious, and if looks could kill Pellaeon would have been vaporized a long time ago, but the Captain ignores the glare and the thick blanket of fury that hung in the air.

This had been a long time coming, and while he knew he may just not live to regret it, he would speak his mind. Pellaeon motioned back towards the door as he began demanding the answers that he felt he needed to know. His stance had shifted just slightly, one foot sliding just a few inches behind the other. If their disagreement came to blows he at least wants to be prepared. He shouts a demand at his superior, and the tightening of blue throat muscles is the only hint he gets before Thrawn snaps, teeth clacking together as he shouts back.

Each one can only be pushed so far, and Corellian stubbornness and Chiss pride keep either of them from backing down.

If Pellaeon wasn't so furious he would have been afraid for his life as Thrawn took a step towards him, their chests bumping as they continue shouting. Pellaeon leans upwards, trying to make up for his slightly shorter stature as his hand comes up, jabbing a fingertip into his superior's white clad chest and Thrawn balls his hands into fists.

Words run together and neither of them can be understood by the other, anger fueling their words and actions. Their noses brush as the verbal barrage continues, both of their voices continuing to rise in volume. Some part of Pellaeon is scared that he may have pushed too hard this time but it doesn't stop his mouth from moving. Thrawn's hands begin to shake as Pellaeon's finger digs harder into the other man's chest. The possibility of a physical altercation seems likely and both men consider that.

They freeze.

Pellaeon's eyes widen as he seems to realize just how close he is to his superior as he gasps for breath. He lowers his hand as Thrawn visibly relaxes, panting softly as he uncurls his hands. They both realize just how close they were to hitting the other. It seems impossible- they were too close, knew each other too well to want to cause violence. But the possibility had been there, even if it was for a split second.

Neither of them think to hard about that. They're calm now, and in that calm they both realize just how close they are to each other. Pellaeon is visibly flustered, and Thrawn's gaze has softened.

Theirs eyes meet for a single moment before their gazes shift down and they stare at the other's lips.

V. Simple Pleasures: Zuckuss/4-LOM

Tatooine's second sun slowly sets on the horizon. There is only about an hour of light left, but 4-LOM isn't worried about that. If anything, he was more worried about the possibility of sand scraping along his hard body and getting in his joints. He finds that it is a more appropriate worry, despite it being more of a nuisance than a genuine problem.

He hears the sound of approaching footsteps and turns his head to watch the approach of his partner as he exits the cave behind him. The sight of the other makes him forget about the sand for a few moments, his presence serving as a reminder of why he was here.

For a bounty of course, but also because Zuckuss was here. He had decided a long time ago that he would follow the Gand anywhere he went.

He turns his head back around as the findsman stops beside him. There is a moment of silence before 4-LOM speaks. "Is he here?" He asks, not because he doubts his partner's ability but to see who he will be speaking to.

"Of course he is," Zuckuss responds, giving 4-LOM his answer. He ponders trying to coax a different personality out of the other, be decides against it. That is none of his business. They stand in silence for a while, both standing and watching the sun set.

It's a beautiful sight, and 4-LOM is pleased that he can enjoy it with his partner. He feels happy, despite being on the job. Others may doubt that a droid could feel such emotion, but he was sure of his feelings. He may not know if what he felt was equal to what other beings experienced, or even if the devotion and content he felt towards Zuckuss would be defined as love as others felt it. Even though he knew neither of them had the interest or the ability to consummate that care as other being did, he knew that trying to explain that would have earned him some looks of pity, as if he was some mindless thing trying to image what feelings must be like. 4-LOM cared little for the definitions of others.

He knew what he felt, and Zuckuss had assured him whenever he felt any doubt that he felt the same.

They continued watching until only a few rays of sun were left and then Zuckuss turned towards the droid. "We should head into the cave. It'll be more comfortable in there," he said, and he lifts a hand to press it against 4-LOM's shoulder. It's a warm touch and the droid lifts his own hand to press it as best as he can against the Gand's side. He feels his partner tense beneath him for a second, before completely relaxing, leaning slightly against the other.

4-LOM feels a comforting rush of emotion towards the other as he supports most of the findsman's weight. It is an intimate moment, and 4-LOM knows it will be one he will remember as long as his memory exists.