A/N1: For some time already I've been having those ideas about my SWTOR smuggler's erotic life popping up at random. Never tried writing them down before, since had no idea what I'd do with those anyway. But eventually decided to gather the snippets and shape them all together into a publishable form. It's a separate story, as I prefer to keep the main one relatively innocent and focused on things a bit closer to actual game events. This is purely my personal headcanon, though I do hope it's an enjoyable read as well 😊

Yavin 4 part heavily influenced by Theron's line afterwards - "Just like I thought. Good at everything". She had to give him a nice reason to say that, right? 😈

Present day part takes place directly after Chapter 6 of the main story - "Love -me-"


1.
Yavin 4

Their first time having sex is just as intense as their first kiss. It tastes of blood and buzzes with adrenaline in the exact same way.

Captain's unsure if it's due to similarities of their nature, or rather his damn spy skills in use, but Theron seems to know exactly what she wants. Apparently, he wants this too: to take and take, to taste life while they still can, to feel life while they still can. What they both think about is an affirmation of life at its fullest - and most primal.

It's a rash business from the very start, the quick dive into a shuttle nearby that is. It's a frantic tumble of clothes being ripped off, boots and blasters scattered all around. It's a struggle of knees and elbows in need of space. There are marks left in places of teeth and nails colliding with skin; bruises forming from being shoved against the bulkhead. Also, there's a fair share of bruises coming from hitting the deck, as her crumpled purple cape makes a poor substitute of mattress. Theron lands on top of the woman and she frames his hips with own thighs in an instant. Captain appreciates spy-boy's consideration, his shaky probing fingers just before the first thrust. She's ready and waiting for him, all of him; she does appreciate the thought nonetheless. The only preparations they've actually had were the biting kisses during undressing, and a couple of assessing hungry looks just before going down to the floor. Yet, hard and hot, he slips in so easily like if they'd just had a long elaborated foreplay. There's still some stretch involved, but it's not what makes the woman gasp before wriggling for adjustment. It's the gleam in his eyes, and the way he looks into her face; like if he'd want to stare into her very soul. It's not what she expects of a one-time lover, so urges the man to act by digging heels into his buttocks. Theron complies, drops the eye contact in favor of latching to her neck and finally moves his hips; the strange moment passes, then it's all just a flood of fire. And maybe it's a bit too primitive, this pounding; too brutal even, against hard deck and with nails clawing for hold; but feels too good too fast to just turn back now. Belatedly, on the brink, the man reaches between them, yet additional stimulation is barely necessary. Bright combustion under Captain's eyelids comes just half a moment before his own climax.

Theron rolls away as soon as his muscle ripples stop; a rare courtesy, one saving the need to fight her way from under a semi-conscious body. She appreciates this gesture as well. They lay exhausted and panting, collapsed on her cape, facing each other but away literally at arm's length. As amazing as it's been, it was a quickie after all, something that will never happen between them again. No lazy cuddles, no languid kisses, no sweet words - for all of that there's Corso in her bunk, where she always returns to. Captain can't stop staring at her lover though. By the stars... The man is not just good-looking; he's outright beautiful now, when so unguarded and trusting. She forces her bliss-muddled brain to memorize every fragment of the scene, each of sweat-covered muscles together with each scar, scratch or bruise she's able to notice. And those eyes; he's watching her too, with a spark that did not fade. Then smiles at her; and it isn't the familiar smug grin of a sated guy, but something else, something almost - shy? Is that an invitation for another round? No, she decides after a glimpse, he's still just as spent as she is. The warm smile though, it deepens; that gleam in his eyes, it's almost blinding now. The way this curious expression eventually hits her, she can't help but to return it. And it's like closing a circuit: as soon as she smiles back, an electric-like current runs through her whole body down to the toes and rekindles flame in the low of stomach.

This shouldn't ever happen. There's nobody else to blame for this other than herself, but she's angry anyway. Celebration of survival is not supposed to be a convoluted love story. This sense of connection, it's wrong. And she needs the fire to be gone, to be wiped from her system before getting back to regular life. Captain can't stand this anymore and scrambles to all fours with a purpose. Since the man has lit the flame again, he has to douse it, right now.

Theron flinches at the rapid movement, but stays still otherwise when she hovers over him. She straddles his thighs, and with no objection from him - launches onto aggressive caresses to his body; covers it bit by bit with punishing, nipping kisses. He seems to enjoy this kind of attention, so the woman works her way down through the planes of chest and stomach, leaving red marks on the skin every now and then. Eventually, she gets low enough to nuzzle against his already growing length. Clearly there's a twitch of interest, so she licks him from the tip down and back up again. When satisfied with response, wraps her lips around the organ. She can taste herself there, and it doesn't help in quenching own arousal, quite the opposite. Desire and anger still rage within her, so she gets to licking and sucking in the earnest, with just a hint of teeth added for a good measure. Must be doing something right, she smirks inwardly upon Theron's reaction to her mouth, his back arching and hips rocking. Captain truly has to admire the spy's durasteel will though; he doesn't grab her by the hair to force deepthroating or to bully her into speeding up. Instead, he touches her hair with fingertips alone, slowly tracing the flow of pinned strands; like if offering lazy caress to the only part of her he can reach. And his stomach muscles flex hard, yet somehow he is able to keep hips bucking shallow, leaving it to her to control the speed and penetration depth. Utter fascination over such a powerful self-control replaces the anger. Suddenly Captain wants to explore this side of her lover more, the consideration and the gentleness, so pulls away much sooner than initially has meant to. The disappointed noise that escapes his throat sounds almost painful, although it was never her intention to torment the man. He's so wonderfully ready anyway.

The spy knows she wants to take this slow, she thinks when he lets her gingerly sink on him. This time it's a nearly perfect fit, and for a second woman freezes savoring the sensation. She's oblivious to the male underneath tensing with bottom lip caught between his teeth, or to the fact he's not taking the eyes off of her for a single moment. But Theron recovers fast and takes a surprisingly delicate hold of her hips - and she absolutely adores this careful touch, so covers his palms with hers to keep them in place. The only indication how much of effort that perfect control costs are white knuckles when he tries to prevent own fingers from digging into her skin. He fails as soon as Captain moves ever so slightly up along his length. Fair enough, she left more than a handful of marks on him already. Might even leave some more with her control fraying, as the feeling is absolutely divine. This unhurried glide of sensitive flesh over flesh, it's exquisite. Sadly, neither might last long again, if this is equally enjoyable for both just like earlier. Captain makes the mistake of taking a look at Theron's face to check on him. He's sweaty and breathing hard, but he's not staring where she'd expect, on her breasts or the area where their bodies meet. He's looking squarely into her face instead, might've been all along. Upon realization that strange sense of mental connection is back, and with it another electric jolt hits her. She uncontrollably clenches. Theron reacts by throwing his head back so hard he hits the floor. The woman takes advantage of the eye contact broken. She closes eyes and focuses solely on here and now - the pleasure she receives and can give in return. This is exactly what they are here for, nothing less and nothing more. And so, she tries to give as good as she gets, in steady fluid movements. Briefly, the woman wonders how long they may last; drawing out the encounter, keeping things just a step from the verge is very exhausting. But then, suddenly, she doesn't have to worry anymore. The man chokes on his labored breath and pushes hips against her in one powerful movement. Captain can feel him pulsing inside her, and it's all she needs to climax too. Orgasm shakes her in violent waves, taking away any control of the body. When she eventually crumples over Theron, he cradles her against his chest and just keeps there, suspiciously safe and cared for, until she regains the ability to move. She shouldn't accept this stupidly endearing gesture, but finds it strangely necessary - as a closure, perhaps?

Not much to be said or done afterwards, and so they part with just a couple of meaningless words, as if nothing has ever happened. It's true, in a way. There's just a memory of companionship, understanding and fire left; that, and a faint vision of all the things they could have become if only they would've had time for that. Obviously, it's not the time nor place for anything else, it would never be. Thus, return to the ordinary life requires even the tiniest of memories to be buried as deep as possible. Captain will make sure to do so before returning to own ship and own life.

Corso can easily tell what she did though, Captain's husband is not dumb nor blind. There's just too much of evidence pointing the obvious. He can witness the way she strides back aboard their home vessel, an unfamiliar glint in the eye and a bunched up, soiled cape under the arm. He can smell the other man on her even after she passes through the sonic. He can spot combat-unrelated damage on her body, like bite marks on the neck or crescent-shaped scratches on the hips. Finally, he can feel how for days she seems irritable in bunk with him, chasing something he's unable to provide. But, Corso doesn't say a thing. After all, she did make a vow to drive her husband mad with jealousy, didn't she? And he did agree to live with it.

2.
Odessen

Nights at the Odessen base are short, too short to make a full use of all those glorious discoveries.

The word to describe their first nights together is - careful. Tentative is the way they reach for each other. It's like if the man thinks she's still frozen and can shatter any moment; like if he's not sure she isn't just a ghost he's been chasing for years. Sadly, she understands this all too well. Aside of the fight for the galaxy, after the carbonite only one other thing was keeping her upright - and it was a fading memory of days with Theron, revived by the letter with a promise of meeting. And so, Commander herself is still not entirely sure either whether he isn't some sort of carbonite dream specter. She also has to be so very cautious, like if he could just wisp away under a hold too firm. It's a constant battle of curiosity against shyness, desire against fear; over and over again, making things so much more difficult.

There's also a certain sort of act in all of it. They keep on pretending that this world can not, will not come crashing down around them in a day, or maybe even in an hour. It's a very desperate posing like they do have all the time in the world to learn everything about each other. Which may or may not be the case, given the circumstances.

But they learn a lot, that they do. They both are eager to learn as much as possible, to make up for the lost time, to determine if what they've decided to do - to become - is worth all the longing. They study each other's body thoroughly, with fingertips and lips, tongues, teeth even; every reaction, each shudder and moan carefully confined to memory. More mundane subjects are part of the learning process as well; from favorite breakfast food and evening drinks, through weapon maintenance habits and wardrobe contents, to sense of humor and opinion on politics from before. Also, them silly things like the way each wakes up - jumping out of bed or crawling out of it; the temperature of shower water preferred; even the hair care details.

As for the hair, Commander's signature hairdo is a combination of wide strands pinned up in waves, their ends gathered in a bun, and thick curls framing cheeks. She never wears her hair down in public, as it makes her feel too fragile. Yet, on one of those slow-burn nights she eventually shows Theron how to remove the pins and the elastic in easiest way, then lets him watch how waves of cherry red hair fall on her shoulders, down to the top of bare breasts. The way he looks at her that time, like if she were a goddess of sorts, it removes last of hesitation from her side. The woman finally feels beautiful enough for him, in spite of scarred face and crude cybernetics, ugly past and undefined future. It makes her more confident in exploration of their relationship and variety of its aspects. And it's emboldening him too, that shift in his partner, to search and find out what more they can offer each other, in matters of both their bodies and their minds.

Neither cares much about the looks other Alliance members exchange seeing them holding hands or kissing in public. To have all the more reason to fight for a better, safer galaxy - neither finds it wrong. It's not a weakness, it's their strength.

3.
Rishi

Sun, wind and ocean waves from pale memories are now a vivid-colored reality.

The Rishi estate is such a carefree place, usually full of fun and laughter. Rishi time means busy hours spent on making the ruined quarters livable. Rishi time also means combat skills improvements, through shooting contests or aiming techniques comparison. There's plenty of time for idle hours on the beach as well, with building castles in the sand or throwing each other into coastal waves. Rishi time may be a cooking afternoon: sharing dishes and spices encountered on their journeys through the galaxy. It can be an evening on balcony: talking long into the night with a cold drink in hand. It is also time for making love wherever they want, however they want; even directly on the sand, as annoying as it can be. There's no shortage of water on Rishi, it's perfectly fine to take actual showers to remove sand whenever necessary. And they do peruse the shower for sex, quite often really, though sometimes this earns them bruises during graceless falls. While water does not really provide any useful lubrication, it is just slippery enough for silly accidents, luckily ones bringing more laughter than damage.

It's a rare thing, to just walk around with her hair let down. It happens often on Rishi though, in the privacy of the estate. Here Commander can let her hair dry naturally in the warm air, be it after rain, shower or sea bath. Theron sometimes gives her swimming lessons, but she's a spacer through and through: cockpit or spaceport, warehouse or cantina, this is her element - not water. Besides, swimming feels just too weird. She will not however refuse a chance to witness Theron working his muscles, to watch his body appearing over and over again above the waves. And each time he reappears, he's covered with fresh droplets of water shining in the sun like precious gems sparkling on a stunning work of art. After such a display, when he's back ashore, she can't help but to drag the man down to blanket from where she'd been watching him. Then she dries his skin with all the means possible - with hands and towel too, but more often with just her lips. Tasting sun and wind and ocean on him, down to every last drop of water, is exhilarating. It's like tasting the joy itself - joy of being in the right place with the right person.

Once in a while, their evenings on the balcony turn into love-making under the stars, at any pace they find suitable for the moment. Afterwards, cuddled under blankets, with galaxy wide stretched above and just the two of them beneath, it truly feels like a perfect place to be with just the perfect person at their side. And neither Theron nor Commander is ashamed when admitting this to each other aloud.

+1
Rishi, present day

The panic attack Commander went through tonight, it left her so very exhausted, and so very ashamed. It also brought up an interesting question - how come she's able to keep the memories of Eternal Fleet destruction so carefully separated from other major events of that time? Thoughts on the fleet loss alone are just sad, while even a brief reminder of the plot against the Order of Zildrog that had led to it - any mention of Theron's involvement at all - causes pain that's almost palpable. It is the same thing and yet, somehow, it is not; but making any sense of this requires energy the woman doesn't seem to have anymore.

She spends the rest of evening subdued, unable to enjoy the meal - which is actually really good - or to take part in small talk her partner is trying to draw her into. The woman is well aware of faraway look on own face, but has no power to fight it, nor to oppose Theron ushering her for shower. Warm water washes away only some of the tiredness. Everything she can think about now is curling up beside her beloved to fall asleep and just let this weird evening finally end. Having some rest is all what's on her mind when she joins the man in their bed.

Theron has a different idea on how the evening should finish though.

When he gingerly wedges himself between her legs, she's surprised but doesn't really react, too tired to think about his exact intentions. It becomes clear what Theron means with first kisses he puts along her tights, sensation of liquid fire left in the wake of his lips. The woman allows him to dive for her core with mouth and fingers, even if she is still slightly hesitant. That might not be exactly how she wanted him tonight - but that's exactly how she needs him, and he knows it way before she realizes this on her own. Commander needs her mind wiped, cleared of any consideration to the outside world. She needs to be reminded that she can trust Theron, trust all of her to him; that by his side she can be vulnerable whenever she needs or wants to be, and he will not use it against her. When her spine arches and she opens to his touch even more, the understanding slowly sinks in. Full acknowledgment echoes within her at the very peak of ecstasy.

Boneless and lightheaded, she lies wrapped in Theron's arms and held close to his heart. Such a curious thing, how she feels perfectly shielded from all the worry now. Even though she truly has meant returning the pleasure, Commander quickly falls into dreamless sleep instead. Theron doesn't mind in the slightest. Providing the loved one some respite from pain is just as much of a joy and satisfaction.


A/N2: For the longest time I wasn't really sure whether to publish this, as it sort of felt different from RebelCaptain smut I've written so far. Needed to chat this through with a guildmate (💜 thanks man!) to understand the difference. The amount of emotional engagement I've been putting into this particular ship is so much higher, because my own character - someone I shaped myself, even if by game choices only - is involved. While still purely a work of fiction, it's so much more personal, hence the difference. Yes - needed to see this in writing, as usual, and yes - I'm that dense 😅

Huge thanks to my SWTOR guild for handling me and my obsessions so well 💜