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Eli always forgot how loud it was on Coruscant. The sound of speeders roaring by his window, the constant buzz of holo ads—even the people here seemed like they were always shouting, trying to be heard over all the noise.

He pulled his pillow over his face and tried to drown out the din. Useless. He vastly preferred the white noise of a ship in hyperspace, lulling him to sleep. He shouldn’t despise the Empire’s capital world so much, he knew. That was playing into type. The Wild Space hick, dazed by the Big City. But, he thought, even if he’d been born and raised here, he’d still hate it.

And they were still going to be stuck here for at least three more weeks, sitting in a bunch of boring strategy meetings—the first one was bright and early tomorrow morning, in fact—until someone got around to repairing the Wasp . Which didn’t seem all that high on the priority list, despite Thrawn’s recent promotion. Even more recent promotion than the last one, which as Yularen had so kindly reminded them, was less than a year old, itself. Eli scowled into the pillow. He didn’t like admitting it, but that was something else keeping him awake. A Commander with an Ensign as an aide was even more insulting to Thrawn than it was to Eli—a Commander and the captain of a ship like the Wasp should have been entitled to a Lieutenant at least.

But Eli was still more insulted on his own behalf. And it seemed like Thrawn didn’t even see the insult for what it was. Eli wasn’t about to point it out to him. He was obviously more than capable of taking care of himself; he’d proven that point today in the dojo.

Thrawn had said it was to allow openings for the dojo’s owner to take the opportunity to injure him, show that she knew about Pryce’s connection to Higher Skies. The whole thing had been a display of...something. Power, sure. And Eli guessed they’d gotten information out of it. But there had to have been an easier way. The plan was a little convoluted, even for Thrawn.

And he’d opened himself up to physical injury. Just like at the Academy. Which had also, apparently, been a ruse.

I would have protected you from serious harm, as indeed I protected myself, Thrawn had said to Eli, shrugging back into his uniform, covering the thin black undershirt that really didn’t look like standard issue on the Chiss’s lithe form. I would have protected you. What did that mean? Did he think Eli was incapable of protecting himself? Or of watching Thrawn’s back? Hadn’t he proven that by now?

But Eli couldn’t have stopped himself from eyeing his commanding officer’s muscular arms in that getup if he’d tried. Just like he couldn’t stop thinking about that sparring session: Thrawn alert, face set in an implacable mask of determination, the practice staffs cracking against each other as Thrawn whirled underneath a strike here, lunged forward to parry his opponent, crouched, ducked, attacked…

Eli threw the pillow across the room. He really hated Coruscant. He hated being an Ensign. And he hated wanting someone as infuriating as now-Commander Thrawn. 

Another day, another strategy meeting. Thrawn knew better than to let himself be lulled by the monotony of the same voices circling around the same topics—problems that he could easily solve for them, if only they listened to his input. But he was already advancing quickly through the ranks of the Imperial Navy, as he had with the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force. He was patient. He would wait. Soon he would achieve a high enough rank to be of notice even to the bureaucrats who seemed to run the Navy, and then perhaps his words would be put into action.

Ensign Vanto, on the other hand…

Thrawn's eyes slid to his aide briefly. Vanto did not have the skill to keep the boredom completely from his face yet; his expression was neutral, but it was there in the glassy gleam of his eyes, the slack line of his mouth. Below the thin veneer of boredom lay frustration, a constant companion to Vanto ever since Thrawn's promotion to commander. It was wrong, how Vanto's accomplishments were going unrewarded. He had proven himself to be a capable officer, far more intelligent than the majority of his peers, and yet…

The only reasonable conclusion to be drawn was that someone was purposefully blocking Vanto's promotion, for reasons as yet unknown to Thrawn—there was something Vanto wasn't telling him, another piece to this equation. It bore further investigation.

Thrawn studied Vanto for a moment, allowing himself the indulgence as the other officers greeted each other. Out of all the aliens he had encountered, Vanto was by far the most physically intriguing. It had little to do with his appearance, though his skin, hair, and eyes were all pleasing shades of brown, and his physique was of course trim and toned, as happened with a military exercise regimen.

Instead, it was down to his body language: the way Vanto expressed himself with his hands, clenching them into fists in anger and wringing them in nervousness, holding them lax in a state of rest; the minuscule adjustments of his posture indicating fluctuations in his mood; and of course, his expressive face, eyes and brows and lips all conveying layers of meaning interpreted fully only by a few—including Thrawn. Vanto had been his blueprint for reading human emotions, and Thrawn still found him educational—fascinating, even. It was difficult to take his eyes off him, so interested Thrawn was in watching him interact with his environment.

The door slid open, and Thrawn flicked his eyes to the person who entered the room, carrying a tray laden with drinks and fuming with anger. Rightfully placed anger, truly; the act of serving superior officers should have gone to Vanto, as an officer's aide, and not to Captain Ilesar. Thrawn would have to backcheck her recent missions to see what mistakes she had made to receive this level of insult.

She set the tray on the circular table in the center of the room, angling her body between two senior officers to do so. They did not have the courtesy to move out of her way. Thrawn watched her with mild curiosity as she picked up the teapot and began to pour—strong Zudryke tea, by the smell of it. Her posture was rigid, her jaw held tight, her head tipped back pridefully despite her current station.

Then she glanced up at him and caught his gaze. There was nothing but bitter hatred in her eyes, which darkened in disgust as they landed on Thrawn. He straightened in his chair in surprise and narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully.

Ilesar placed a teacup in front of him, and he said as courteously as he could, "Thank you, Captain."

She nodded jerkily in response and moved on to the officer to his left. At his right hand, Vanto leaned forward and muttered, "What was that about?"

"I do not know," Thrawn murmured back. He was on full alert now, tracking her movements around the room. Ilesar responded politely when thanked by the other officers; her problem was specifically with him, then. "But I believe we should find out."

"I think I've found something," Vanto said. His voice carried traces of excitement and some apprehension.

"Tell me," Thrawn commanded. Vanto gave him an oblique look, one Thrawn could not yet interpret. Something had changed between them recently, something unrelated to Vanto's frustration and resentment brought about by Thrawn's promotion. Thrawn was still in the process of deciphering just what it was.

"Wynn Ilesar, served as first officer on the Night Watcher ," Vanto continued, reading off his datapad. "She was on track for promotion when her ship was attacked by smugglers. The captain was injured, and under Ilesar's command—long story short, she lost the ship, sir."

Vanto glanced up at Thrawn. "I asked around, and this happened just a few days ago. Rumor had it she was going to be promoted to captain of a ship before the smugglers jumped the Watcher ."

"Replacing Commander Cheno on the Thunder Wasp ," Thrawn mused. Vanto deflated.

"Yes, sir," he said. "How did you know?"

"It puts some things into perspective," Thrawn said thoughtfully. If she perceived him as having usurped her position aboard the Thunder Wasp , her fury at him made sense. "She is one to watch, Ensign."

"What could she do to us here on Coruscant?" Vanto asked skeptically. "She has even less political power than we do."

"Nonetheless," Thrawn said. "Be on your guard."

He steepled his fingers and brought them to his lips, thinking hard. He was aware of Vanto watching him for a few minutes before sighing and going back to his datapad, but said nothing more.

Tactics in part relied on a measure of instinct, and though the facts did not point to anything particularly nefarious, Thrawn could not deny it: instinct was telling him that Captain Ilesar was up to no good.

Despite the potential threat from Ilesar, whatever it might be, the strategy meeting dragged on into its second day, and they were still stuck in a dimly lit conference room, listening to various experts drone on about their sector. Admiral Prennis was currently up, and he never used one word when he could use ten. And he’d brought charts.

Badly made charts, Eli couldn’t help but notice. The data were sound, but the analyses were all off. He saw his datapad flicker out of the corner of his eye. A message from Thrawn. Eli shot a glance at the Commander, but to all appearances, he was completely absorbed in the presentation, even making notes. Eli checked the message.

- I assume you will re-analyze this later?

Eli responded , Yes, this chart’s misleading at best. There’s something interesting in there, though. I can tell.

A moment went by, and then:

-  I expected nothing less. I’m sure your analysis will prove invaluable, as always. Thank you.

Eli couldn’t suppress a genuine smile. Thrawn was usually grateful for his assistance, Eli could tell, and was never unreasonably demanding, like some commanding officers could be. But this —an outright compliment—was new. And Eli couldn’t lie to himself: it went some way toward soothing his annoyance with their current situation.

Thrawn was satisfied with the result of his experiment. He watched as Vanto’s posture relaxed slightly, the corners of his mouth turned up, and his hands ceased their tense grip on his datapad, as he read the message of thanks.

Such a small gesture, and yet it was obviously more important to a human than Thrawn would have thought. To execute a duty well was enough for a Chiss; individual recognition was generally unimportant. He would have to put some additional thought into the matter of Vanto’s promotion, as well. That, too, was different in the Empire than in the Ascendancy. Not just a matter of recognition of a duty well-executed, or a soldier’s readiness for additional responsibility, but something more subtle. Perhaps they had allies he could approach about it. That was the start of a plan.

He filed it away for further consideration, and turned his attention back to Ilesar, who was still relegated to service. Her affect was different today—still radiating insult, a measure of shame, despite her rigidly straight posture—but there was something else, too.

Thrawn watched as she picked up glasses. As Admiral Salvor passed her without a thought, Ilesar startled slightly, causing the glasses to clink together loudly, and scowled. She was nervous. Thrawn wondered if she had had her court martial yet—perhaps that was the reason for her nervousness, the anticipation of censure, perhaps demotion, hanging over her. He didn’t envy her that.

The meeting was heading toward a break for the afternoon, people gathering their things and moving toward the exit. Thrawn kept his eyes on Ilesar, lingering behind.

“Any word on the status of our repairs, Ensign?” he asked Vanto, who was scrolling through the messages on his datapad.

“This tech is still giving me the runaround, sir,” Vanto sighed. “Says they’re shorthanded, or waiting for parts, or some other excuse, every time I ask for an update.”  

Ensign Vanto followed Thrawn’s gaze to Captain Ilesar. “You don’t think—” Vanto said.

“I’m not sure how,” Thrawn murmured. “But it seems plausible that she might have a hand in the delays.”

“Huh,” Vanto said. He got up from his seat. His posture, Thrawn noted, held more confidence than it had earlier.

“Where are you going?” Thrawn asked.

“I’m going to give her an opening, sir,” Eli said, with a grin.

Eli allowed Ilesar to bump into him as they both headed for the conference room door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Captain,” he exclaimed, letting his accent broaden. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Yes, I can tell,” she snapped. “Be more careful next time, Ensign. ” She seemed ready to stalk off—clearly done with the conversation, and with him.

Eli sighed, ignoring her attempt to end their interaction. “It’s just, the Capt—the Commander I work for—” Ilesar flinched. “—he’s kind of a taskmaster, you know? I’m so busy I’m not even paying attention to where I’m going, and now our ship’s not getting repaired, no matter how many times I ask for an update…”

Reading human body language had become several times easier after spending so much time around Thrawn, who barely had any to speak of. Eli caught her self-satisfied smirk, even though it flickered across her face for only a moment.

“Too bad,” she drawled. “I’m sure Coruscant isn’t exactly...comfortable for either of you. Ensign. If you’ll excuse me.”

“She’s definitely blocking us somehow, sir,” Eli said, quietly, slipping back into his seat. “She’s pretty easy to read.”

“You are sure?” Thrawn said.

“Yeah,” Eli said. “You gave me the idea, like what you did in the dojo—just show weakness and see how she reacted. She couldn’t resist taking a dig at me when I mentioned the delays. I don’t know how she’s managing it yet, but if we head up to the repair station after this is done, we can probably figure it out, talk to the right people, get ourselves moved up in line. She can’t have that much influence, especially with a court martial coming up.”

“Nicely done,” Thrawn said, not wanting to use the now-insulting title Ensign in Vanto’s moment of triumph. “Perhaps we will be leaving here more quickly than we expected.”

Vanto’s even more relaxed posture, and his grin, were an intriguing result of the praise, yet again. Thrawn would have to be a little more sparing with it once they were off Coruscant. His own reaction to this particular type of human body language was something that required further analysis. And...caution.

Eli felt confident enough in their read on the Ilesar situation that he basically ignored her as she came around with teacups again during the afternoon session of the meeting. It was the same type of tea as the previous day, something from Zudryka, strong and almost distastefully bitter, to Eli. But they hadn’t been given any water—despite the glasses in front of them, another pointedly petty insult—so he drank it anyway. So did Thrawn.

The afternoon presentation was just as boring as the morning’s had been, without the added benefit of charts to think about rearranging to his own liking. Eli felt his attention drifting. It was a little too warm in this room, now, and—

He caught the flicker of his datapad again and checked it.

Another message from Thrawn, but this time…

- need to leave immediately canyou arrange excuse

Excuse wasn’t in Basic, it was the Sy Bisti word. Eli looked at Thrawn sharply. The Chiss, to anyone else, would have seemed perfectly normal. But Eli could see Thrawn’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes slightly unfocused...and was he...shaking?

Eli ran through his options as quickly as he could. It wouldn’t be that unusual for them to step out to take a call or something. Others had done it. He pressed a button on his comm, and it buzzed quietly. He made a show of checking it, nodded at Thrawn, and motioned toward the door.

People barely looked up as they passed, Eli trying not to look like he was dragging Thrawn out, which he practically was. That was, most people barely looked up.

Except Ilesar. She was staring. And smiling.

Analysis. Cold, distant analysis; that was what the situation called for. Clear-minded thinking. Tactics on an unfamiliar battlefield. These things were Thrawn's specialty. And yet—

And yet, his breath was coming fast and hard, loud in his ears; his pulse rushing, sending waves of heat rippling through his body. The scents of the corridor were overwhelming: the cleaning solution used on the floor, acrid to his nose, nearly overwhelming the solid and reassuring scent of Vanto at his side, freshly-washed skin overlaid with a hint of sweat. The scrape of his uniform over his sensitive skin was bordering on agonizing; he craved a softer touch, silken fabrics, the glide of skin on skin—

Concentrate . What was he thinking?

"Sir?" Vanto said—had been saying, with increasing alarm. He gripped Thrawn's elbow, supporting him; heat radiated from the touch, and Thrawn thought again of calloused hands slipping under his uniform tunic, palms pressed skin-to-skin against his stomach. Irrational thoughts—inappropriate thoughts. "Sir, what's wrong? Are you—"

"Poison," Thrawn rasped. It was the only logical conclusion for such a sudden onset of illness—a hallucinogen, perhaps, summoning these thoughts from the place he banished them. He would not deny these images had crossed his mind before, but he was disciplined; unlike many, he was not a slave to his body's desires. "Served in the tea—Ilesar knew. You saw her face as we left?"

"She was gloating," Vanto realized, and a darkness crept into his voice. "Sir, we have to get you to medbay."

"No point," Thrawn said with a jerky shake of his head. "No medic here can treat a Chiss. We must go to my quarters."

Vanto wanted to protest, Thrawn could tell. But he set his jaw firmly and said, "All right, we'll go there first."

Thrawn kept his back straight as Vanto led them through the corridors. Led him, yes, because he would not have been able to make his way there if he tried; the halls of the administrative level were like a maze to him, turns and twists swimming before his eyes. He blinked hard, trying to clear his head. It was difficult, his mind sluggish, consumed by only one thing: the desire to get someone's hands on him— Vanto's hands—as soon as possible.

An aphrodisiac, not strictly a poison. What possible motive could she have had? Public humiliation? If so, she had misjudged the timing badly. No, there was something else—something Thrawn couldn't think of, and was there anything as maddening as being unable to think clearly?

In the turbolift, they had a blessed few minutes alone. Thrawn sagged, unable to keep his posture up to his usual standards, groping for the bar on the wall to support himself. Vanto wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him upright, and it was torturous to not lean into that grip, to not angle his body so he could take Vanto in his arms and—

Vanto's skin, he realized abruptly, was hotter than normal, as though feverish, noticeable even through the fabric of their uniforms. Thrawn twisted his head and examined Vanto, noting the heat playing over his face in the infrared, a deeper flush than any of his blushes of embarrassment or anger. Glassy eyes, pupils wide; he met Thrawn's gaze, then his eyes dropped to Thrawn's lips, flicked back up quickly, scanned his face as though mesmerized. His arm tightened around Thrawn's waist, and a wash of lust flooded Thrawn, made his legs weak. He wanted, with more fervor than he had ever wanted anything before, for Vanto to hold him tighter, to pin him down or to submit to Thrawn's body pressed against his own lean form, naked.

"Eli," he said, the name slipping from his mouth unbidden. The man in question swallowed hard; Thrawn watched his throat bob and thought of applying his teeth there. "You are the one who needs to go to medbay."

"You're much worse off," Vanto pointed out, and shook his head when Thrawn made an attempt to protest. It was a sign, Thrawn thought darkly, of how impaired he was that Vanto felt free to simply deny him, without even a token attempt at persuasion to change his mind. "We'll go to your quarters first, and—" He faltered, perhaps thinking, as Thrawn was, of the privacy of his quarters, soundproofed and locked as all rooms on these levels were.

The turbolift lurched slightly as it reached their level, and Thrawn straightened. A few steps more , he told himself. That is all. A few steps, and then you will be free to—

To what? To touch Vanto, to strip him naked, to take him in his mouth and—Thrawn jerked as his mouth flooded with saliva at the thought, as though he was starving and had just been offered food.

They reached his quarters, and Vanto pressed his palm against the lock; Thrawn had, of course, keyed it to his handprint as well as Thrawn's own. The door slid open and Vanto fairly pushed Thrawn inside.

The quarters were small, though well-appointed: a table and chairs sat in one corner of the main room, a desk in the opposite, and through a doorway lay the bedroom and refresher. Thrawn made his way to one of the chairs at the table and collapsed there. His hands went to his throat and he unbuttoned the stiff collar of his tunic, unzipped it and shrugged out of it, letting it bunch up behind him, then pulled his undershirt over his head. The cool air of the room raised prickles on his skin, but it was better than the constricting tunic had been.

Eli— Vanto was leaning against the closed door, staring at him, eyes dark and hungry, drinking him in as if Thrawn were a work of art to be studied—no, Thrawn decided, that was far too abstract a metaphor; Vanto was looking at him as if he wanted to devour Thrawn, with all the fleshly pleasure that implied.

Thrawn wanted him to, right now.

"Eli," he said again, and corrected himself with an effort—the man's given name seemed to flow easier off his tongue, softer, more intimate. "Ensign Vanto. Do you know what drug this is?"

Vanto grimaced.

"I think so," he said, hanging back in the doorway.

Vanto was gripping the doorframe with one hand, white-knuckled. The drug was beginning to influence him just as strongly, now, it was clear; the comparative delay in onset must have been related to the faster Chiss metabolism. Thrawn did his best to focus on these thoughts and not on how much he wanted to press his mouth to Vanto's skin. Humans were softer, more delicate than Chiss were; Thrawn would be gentle with him—unless, he thought with a shiver, unless Eli preferred it otherwise, unless he would want Thrawn to treat him roughly—but no, if Thrawn were honest with himself, he would prefer the reverse—

"It's called lock and key," Eli—Thrawn had given up trying to call him Vanto in his own head—was saying. He let go of the doorframe and began fiddling with his own collar, taking two tries to undo it. "Or at least that's its street name. It's—"

He blushed beautifully and fell silent.

"An aphrodisiac," Thrawn finished. "That is what I assume from my own symptoms. Does it affect you similarly?"

"I can't believe you can talk like that when you feel like this," Eli said fervently, and finished stripping out of his tunic. The undershirt came next, revealing an expanse of skin, so curiously unlike Thrawn's in color and texture.

Thrawn could not help himself; he needed to feel Eli's body underneath his hands. It was a physical ache not unlike hunger or thirst, something essential to his well-being, nothing that could be ignored. He stood and went to Eli, who stared at him with eyes wide in surprise and arousal.

"What—" Eli said.

Thrawn slid his hands over his shoulders, down the firm muscles of his biceps, and pulled him close so they were standing chest-to-chest, skin against skin. At this angle, Thrawn could press his face into Eli's hair, and so he did. He nuzzled against Eli's head; the other man made a thick, choked noise in the back of his throat, and wrapped his arms around Thrawn's waist, sliding his palms up his back, exploring the muscles there. It sent sparks down Thrawn's spine, as if Eli's hands were live wires, and he shoved Eli against the door to press the full length of his body against him.

His knee slipped between Eli's legs, and yes—Eli was responsive, his cock hard in his regulation trousers. Thrawn knew humans and Chiss were built similarly; there wouldn't be any surprises when (not if, but when) he'd stripped Eli naked, but he craved the sight nonetheless.

"Continue," Thrawn panted, his fingers twitching on Eli's arms. "Tell me about—"

He cut himself off with a gasp as Eli tilted his head and licked Thrawn's neck, wet and sensual. Eli moaned and did it again, following it with a bite and a roll of his hips, grinding his cock against Thrawn's knee.

"Lock and key," Eli repeated. His breath was uneven and harsh in Thrawn's ear. "People take it together for fun. It's called that because—because it makes you want the other person so badly you need them, you have to fit together like a lock and key."

"Is it illegal?" Thrawn stepped back slightly—ever so slightly—and dropped his hands to the fastening of Eli's trousers. Separating even that small distance was nearly physically painful; he wanted nothing more than to wrap Eli in his arms and take him.

"Very," Eli said. "That must have been part of her plan—no one would believe us if we said we were dosed, it's too popular—"

"Not enough proof," Thrawn murmured. "We are missing a piece of the puzzle."

He pushed Eli's trousers down to the floor, then dropped to his knees.

Eli inhaled sharply. "Thrawn—" he said.

Not Commander, Thrawn noted, but his core name. Hearing it off Eli's tongue eased something inside him, a tension he had only been partially aware of.

"Yes," he said reassuringly. "You're doing well, Eli. Please keep going."

"I can't," Eli bit out. "Not when you're doing— that ."

That was sliding his hands over Eli's firm ass and thighs, squeezing where he desired, canting his hips to an angle more suitable for Thrawn's mouth. That was exhaling on his cock, watching it twitch, before leaning in and licking a stripe along the underside, flicking his tongue across the tip to taste the liquid that had gathered there. It was sweet to Thrawn's tongue. He wanted more; he wanted all of Eli, to consume him and take him apart and make him writhe in pleasure, yes, he wanted to taste his come in his mouth—

Crude words, crude thoughts, immensely suitable to the way Thrawn was currently feeling.

Eli twined his fingers in Thrawn's hair, almost hesitant, and Thrawn ordered harshly, "Do it."

Eli's hands seized and pulled hard enough to make tears spring to Thrawn's eyes, just as commanded. Heedless of the pain—perhaps even enjoying it—Thrawn leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Eli's cock.

He was not particularly skilled in doing this, but humans said that enthusiasm outweighed experience, and Thrawn had plenty of the former today. Flattening his tongue, he took Eli further into his mouth, forcing back his gag reflex when it threatened to rise. The tender skin was so much hotter than his, silky smooth. He wriggled his tongue and teased a very intriguing noise out of Eli, a strangled half-gasp, half-moan. Thrawn wanted to hear it again.

Distantly, he was aware of several things: the need to decipher Ilesar's plan before it was too late, the flagrant abuse of fraternization policies he was exhibiting, the ethical quandary of seducing a subordinate. He could not bring himself to care, although he should, and he knew he would once the drug was clear of his system. But at the moment—could anything be more important than Eli, hot and eager, grasping at his hair, whispering curses into the air as Thrawn's head bobbed on his cock?

Releasing his grip on Eli's thigh, he slipped one hand down and between his legs, palming the bulge there. It was far less satisfying than it usually was—he craved Eli's touch, not his own.

"Thrawn," Eli gasped above him. His hands were twitching and his thigh muscles were flexing; he was close. "Oh, stars, I'm gonna—"

Thrawn hummed in approval and narrowed his focus down to nothing but Eli, his muscle tremors, the way his cock pulsed in Thrawn's mouth. Saliva was dripping down Thrawn's chin and his jaw ached with the unfamiliar motion, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when Eli was thrusting into his mouth and gasping, and, finally, deliciously, orgasming with a shudder and a soft cry.

Thrawn swallowed everything Eli had to give—the taste was just as satisfying as he had expected—and pulled away. Eli slid down the wall shakily and sat before Thrawn. The Chiss examined him, noting the dazed look in his eyes, the flush that had overtaken his face and part of his chest, how swollen his lips were from being bitten.

His lips. Thrawn had an excellent idea.

He leaned forward and pressed his own mouth against Eli's, his hand coming up to cradle Eli's chin. Thrawn parted his lips with his tongue, leaned in closer, pinning Eli against the door, deepening the kiss. Eli's hands on him, stroking his chest, toying with his nipples before migrating elsewhere, over the flat plane of his abdomen, further down—

Thrawn's thoughts were becoming incoherent. He pulled away to try to reorganize them, but Eli grabbed him and yanked him back.

"Can you taste yourself on me?" Thrawn murmured against Eli's lips, barely aware of what he was saying. "Does it not taste sweet?"

"Fuck," Eli hissed. "Wait—I think it's your turn."

" Please ," Thrawn said, and did not even care how wanton he sounded.

Eli pushed him back flat against the floor; Thrawn went without protest. Eli taking initiative was, he found, quite appealing. He kicked off his boots while Eli went for the clasp of his trousers, handling it with more grace than Thrawn would have expected, under the influence of the lock and key.

Eli's skin was a contrast to his, like shades of a desert, and just as hot. His mouth on Thrawn's stomach and thighs, licking and nipping, sent waves of heat through Thrawn; he pulsed like a vein, his entire body lit up as if a fever had overtaken him.

Then Eli put his mouth on his cock, and Thrawn's eyes rolled back in his head.

This was simply incomparable to other sexual experiences Thrawn had had. It was overwhelming, more than the touch of skin on skin should be, a sense of almost holy rightness settling over Thrawn as Eli worked him over. Yes, this was how things should be between them; this was what they needed; this was—

It was—

Wet noises were coming from where Eli's mouth was busy on his cock, and Eli's fingers were exploring his body, light touches that made goosebumps rise on Thrawn's skin, and tension was building in Thrawn's groin, a drawn-out sensation like the plucking of a quetarra string—

He convulsed and briefly couldn't think at all.

When he came back to himself, it was to Eli hovering beside him, naked and on his knees— a good look , Thrawn thought fuzzily.

"It should start wearing off now," Eli said hoarsely. Thrawn had thrust hard at the height of his climax, and undoubtedly bruised his throat. "Now that we've both, um, come."

"I see," Thrawn said. Langor was taking a hold of him, slow and sensual; he did not want to move from the floor, but if Eli went elsewhere, he would follow.

His mind was beginning to function again, spinning up as if he were an ancient hard drive. "A camera," he said.

"What?" Eli asked blankly, and then shook his head. "Of course, Ilesar. Somewhere in here…I can do a scan…"

He cut himself off with a huge yawn. Thrawn watched him with hazy interest.

"I take it exhaustion is a side effect," he said.

"Yeah, on the come-down," Eli acknowledged. "I think—" Another yawn. Thrawn was feeling much the same, ready to sleep in a way he seldom felt. "I think the camera will have to wait. It isn't a streaming device, the security scans would've caught it, so she'll have to come in here to get it."

"A valid analysis," Thrawn said, and with an effort heaved himself to his feet. "I am going to the bed. You are free to join me."

He brushed past Eli, who looked shocked, and fell into bed.

After a moment, Eli followed.

When Eli woke up, it was to Thrawn wrapped around him. Eli was ensconced in the Chiss's arms, his head pillowed on Thrawn's shoulder. The Chiss was more physically affectionate that Eli would have guessed. That was interesting.

Thrawn was still asleep. Eli wondered if he should get up, find his clothes, leave—let them both have some dignity, after...after that. But he didn't want to go. He kept his eyes shut, his breathing even, and burrowed into the touch. Might as well enjoy it for now. He'd thought about it often enough.

But now that he was awake, his mind was racing. Exhaustion was definitely a side effect; it had to be early morning by the quality of the light in the room, and it had been only late afternoon when they’d stepped out of the meeting the previous day. Stepped out of the meeting and then…

Memory loss was not a side effect.

He'd fantasized about Thrawn before. A lot. The fantasies were all of a Thrawn who was cool, controlled, and logical, always in command, who took Eli apart with careful touch and tactics, like winning a battle. This had been...Thrawn had been desperate. Submissive. Eli couldn't help but think of him as, even...affectionate. Leaning into Eli in the turbolift, burying his face in Eli’s hair. And he’d been considerate, even under the influence of the lock and key, which had been so overwhelming Eli still didn't know how Thrawn had managed to keep it together in the meeting at all. When the drug had hit Eli, he had felt like he was drowning in sensation, totally unable to do anything except be taken, touched. If he had gone under first, instead of Thrawn, they would have been done for.

As it had turned out, though, Eli was almost glad that Ilesar had pulled such a stupid stunt on them. The memory of Thrawn, kissing him desperately, needing him, saying things like Can you taste yourself on me and begging him please …

He was drugged, Eli reminded himself firmly, shifting a little in Thrawn's grip, glad he was turned away from the Chiss. He was still on a hair-trigger, already hard again. You were drugged. That wasn't really him. But Eli hadn't felt like he wasn't himself , he'd just been... uninhibited. That didn't mean it had been the same for Thrawn, though. He'd reacted differently, more quickly, more intensely.

But earlier that day, he'd also said things like your assistance is invaluable and thank you. And I would have protected you.

Which also didn't mean anything. They were colleagues. Not even colleagues—Eli was his subordinate. It was a professional courtesy.

Maybe not that part about protection, though. Or the part about I'm going to the bed, you are free to join me . They'd been out from under the drug by that point, right? Mostly. Why would he have offered that, just simple physical affection, unless— oh, stars, this was really, really bad.

Eli was both relieved and disappointed when Thrawn released his grip on him, sliding out of the bed and moving to the shower. Yes, getting up, showering, wearing his uniform, dealing with llesar, finding that camera, getting the hell off of Coruscant, and forgetting about this — as Thrawn probably would—that would be best.

If he could forget about it.

Thrawn remembered every single thing he'd said and done the previous day, in detail, and the whole affair was playing itself out in his mind vividly as he stood under the flow of water in the shower.

He had been out of control. But not out of his mind. He realized now just how much he had wanted Eli—for months, maybe even longer. That was the missing piece he'd been hiding from himself when it came to their interactions lately.

And he wanted him, still. Even that encounter, intense as it had been, was not enough. In fact, having had Eli once was almost worse than not at all, because to continue this, to expect it, would be completely inappropriate. All Thrawn could think of now was his aide, stripped bare, on his knees in front of him. Of Eli’s dark eyes, one hand gripping the doorframe, the other loosening his collar. Holding Thrawn up in the lift. Gasping his name.

They hadn't had a choice. It was the influence of the drug. That was clear. He'd tried to hold back, tried to give Eli a chance to say no, but he simply hadn't been able to. If the drug had affected Eli in the same way, it would have been impossible not to...help each other through it. Which had saved them from public humiliation and disgrace, at least for now.

He'd badly misjudged Ilesar. He'd thought her blocking their repairs was enough to explain her behavior, but there had been human aspects to her plan, a desire to insult, that he either had chosen not to see or had missed. And as a result, they'd very nearly ended up in severe trouble. Hadn't he just said that he would have protected Eli from harm? Hadn't he just arrogantly displayed weakness as a form of strength to gain information, as part of a gambit? And this woman could have taken him down with something so simple as a clumsily concocted blackmailing scheme.

He'd been too focused on the wrong human’s body language in the meeting.

So. From here on out, it would be analysis, tactics. Careful consideration. Professionalism. Eli—Ensign Vanto was his aide and colleague, and Thrawn would treat him as such. Vanto had been affected enough by their association. More than enough.

Thrawn knocked before entering Eli’s adjoining room, even though the door would have unlocked at his touch.

“Come in,” Eli said, voice still a little hoarse. He stood up to acknowledge Thrawn, which they didn't usually do when they were alone. “Commander,” he said, not meeting Thrawn's eyes.

“Ensign,” Thrawn returned coolly. “You have retrieved the recording device, I assume.”

Eli indicated the small pile of parts on the table next to him. “Destined for the incinerator, sir.”

Thrawn nodded. “I've received a request for a meeting with Ms. Pryce,” he said. “I'm going to accept. I believe an ally would not be unwelcome at this juncture.”

“I'll go with you,” Eli said. And then, a touch too late, he added, “Sir.”

“That is probably unwise, Ensign Vanto,” Thrawn said, voice completely neutral.

It probably was unwise, for them to be seen together in the city. Ilesar wouldn't have her proof, but she could still start rumors.

Eli sighed. “You're right, Commander. I have some research I want to do, anyway.”

Thrawn nodded, somewhat absently, and left.

Eli wondered how Thrawn was feeling but he hadn’t wanted to ask. Too intimate. Eli had the slightly surreal feeling of a mild hangover, just a little lightheaded, achy joints. He felt oddly...bereft. The drug had made everything sharper, more intense, more pleasurable, just generally more. Now everything seemed washed out and lifeless.

He'd found a thumbprint-shaped bruise on his hip and a bite mark on his neck that morning— thankfully, just below his collar. He hoped they didn't fade too quickly. He blushed hotly for thinking that—even with no one around to see—and got back to work. 

It didn't take long for him to track down the information he'd wanted. The date for Ilesar's court martial, who was hearing the case, and the briefs filed by each side regarding the Night Watcher incident.

He also dove into the background of the head tech at the repair yard, the one who had been giving them trouble. Sure enough, he had served with Ilesar a few postings back. Eli wondered what Ilesar had on him. Something sordid and embarrassing, probably. It seemed like her style.

It was trivial to send anonymous, untraceable messages through the holonet, if you knew how, and Eli did. The one he sent to the tech was a shot in the dark. He attached the court martial information and wrote: tell the right people what she did and she’ll go down, not you. -a friend.

He attached the same information, along with a few mission briefings and the charts from the meeting the other day, and sent it to Thrawn under the heading “today's correspondence.” Thrawn could share it with their potential ally, if he wanted, or not.

Then, Eli went back to sleep. Or tried to, anyway.

Whether it was Eli's research or Pryce’s patron’s intervention, the Thunder Wasp fairly shot to the top of the repair list. They were gone by the end of the week. Thrawn didn't tell Eli the details of his meeting with Pryce, and Eli didn’t ask.

Eli’s plan to forget about what had happened on Coruscant was, as it turned out, basically impossible. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Dreaming about it. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, desperately hard and gasping Thrawn’s name.

And Eli suspected that Thrawn was thinking about it, too. He’d been scrupulously professional in the two weeks since they’d left Coruscant, barely even looking at Eli if he could help it. At first, Eli thought that it might be embarrassment or regret, but the more he studied Thrawn—in meetings, in their work together—he thought he saw hints of the same affection toward Eli that Thrawn had displayed in bed, stifled for propriety’s sake. But he wasn’t sure.

The recent news regarding the outcome of former-Captain Illesar’s court martial provided another hint. Eli had been tracking the case since they left. According to the holonews article Eli had found about the verdict, she had received both a dishonorable discharge from the Navy and a six-month prison sentence for blackmail and extortion against several lower-ranking members of the Navy. Apparently, she had been pressing them for favors or just for money. A group of them, including their tech at the repair yard, the one Eli had sent the message to, had come forward at the last minute before her trial and testified against her.

Eli smiled to himself, satisfied. He included the article about the case, among a dozen others, in a message entitled “news from the capitol,” and sent it to Thrawn.

Thrawn had promised himself to stop making a particular study of Ensign Vanto’s body language and all that it entailed, for obvious reasons. It hadn't helped. His habit of observing Eli Vanto was too ingrained. And now that Thrawn knew what Eli looked like on his knees, or with his head thrown back and eyes closed in pleasure—those were not images easily forgotten.

And, as they received their next assignment, a land dispute on a world called Cyphar, and started their strategizing, Thrawn could see that the frustration that had plagued his aide prior to their stay on Coruscant was back, and worse than ever.

The...incident was, despite their best efforts at professionalism aside, obviously making their lives difficult. It was making Thrawn's life difficult, anyway. It seemed like it was doing the same to Ensign Vanto, but he couldn't be absolutely sure it was what had happened on Coruscant that was causing Vanto's frustration.

It was definitely causing his. And for once, he wasn't sure what kind of plan would put it right. He knew what he wanted to happen, but that was against regulations, specifically, and ethics in general. If he propositioned his aide, would he be any better than Ilesar, extorting favors out of those who couldn't say no?

Eli couldn’t help but notice how stilted and awkward all of his and Thrawn’s interactions had started to become—especially the ones where it was only the two of them, meeting in Thrawn’s office. Even in the early days of their partnership, it had never been like this. And just when Eli was starting to think he was going to snap, unable to stop himself from showing up at Thrawn’s office in the middle of the night, demanding answers, a potential solution presented itself.

It was at the end of a long day, as a frustrating discussion about the next mission that had led the senior staff in circles for hours finally wrapped up.

“Ensign,” Thrawn called, as Eli made for the door. “My office, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Eli responded. He could feel his posture instantly becoming stiff and formal.

They sat on either side of the desk as usual, but Eli didn’t think, from the way Thrawn was shifting in his chair, that he was the only one who felt that the air was charged with the knowledge of what they'd done together.

Seemingly out of nowhere, and with a minimum of eye contact, Thrawn had decided to inform Eli about his conversation with Pryce, finally, and—surprisingly, to Eli—her offer to assist with his blocked, much overdue promotion.

“It is important to me that you're properly recognized for your work,” Thrawn said, eyeing him. Seeming to assess his reaction.

“Thank you, Commander,” Eli said, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice. He was genuinely flattered that Thrawn had thought to include his promotion in his conversation with their newfound political ally. He sat up a little straighter and tilted his head. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, Ensign,” Thrawn said, carefully. “There is something else. I wanted to...thank you for keeping me apprised of the situation involving Captain Ilesar. The outcome of her trial was unpredictably sensational.”

“Yeah,” Eli said, with a grin. This was almost feeling normal, now. “Good to hear, isn’t it? Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person, sir.”

Thrawn ignored his attempt at lightening the mood, and soldiered on. “It is wise for a commanding officer to keep in mind the consequences of an abuse of power, and how easily such matters can lead to…”

And it was then that Eli realized that he had been wrong. Thrawn hadn’t tried to forget about what had happened at all. He’d been thinking about it as much as Eli had. And with embarrassment and regret, maybe, but not because of his own vulnerability—but because of Eli’s.

“Wait, what?” Eli interrupted, blinking at him. “Are you...comparing what happened...between us to what she did?” He was so stunned that Thrawn was even bringing it up that he forgot to use honorifics. It almost sounded like Thrawn was…apologizing. 

“The former Captain allowed her base impulses—in her case, greed—to overcome her duty to her subordinates,” Thrawn said evenly. “To coerce them. And I—”

“We,” Eli interjected. “I was there, too. There was no way we could have gotten out of that without…”

“I could have thought of one if I—”

“You couldn't have. And it’s not the same,” Eli said, quietly.

He leveled his gaze at Thrawn, letting it intensify. Thrawn met his eyes. Eli could see the muscles in his throat working, and remembered what it felt like to glide his tongue across that cool blue skin.

Well, it was now or never. Time to find out if he’d read the situation right. “ You’re not anything like her. Because you...didn’t. Um. Coerce me. Even without the drug, I…” he trailed off, not knowing how to say it. And then remembered something Thrawn had said, weeks ago, before their encounter with Ilesar. “I guess what I'm saying, sir, is, um. If we were sparring. This is when I'd be leaving you an opportunity,” Eli said, slowly. He felt a grin spread over his face.

Thrawn’s expression lightened. He smiled imperceptibly. “A calculated risk. Evaluating what I know against what you know. Making yourself...vulnerable.”

Eli leaned forward in his chair. “Making a choice, sir. Thrawn .”

The moment stretched out. Eli’s face heated, but he kept his gaze steady.

Then, abruptly, as if he’d come to a decision, Thrawn stood and stepped around the desk, halting next to Eli. Eli made as if to stand, but dropped back in his chair when Thrawn gently set his hand on his head and carded his fingers through Eli’s hair.

The affection hadn’t been due to the drug, then. There was no question about it, or about the tenderness in the gesture now. Thrawn cared about him, maybe even—

Eli cut off that train of thought—it was too soon to be thinking that kind of thing—and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He felt a bit like a pet, and found that he didn’t mind at all. Thrawn’s hand on his head stilled for a moment, then Eli felt long cool fingers under his chin, tilting his head up. Eli met Thrawn’s burning gaze. His eyes were serious, but also pleased—even smug.

“Eli,” he said.

That was all. No words of affection, no declarations of love. They weren't necessary. Eli surged out of his chair and stood, pressed against Thrawn, sliding his hands up his chest, curling one around the nape of his neck. Thrawn’s hands dropped to Eli’s waist and pulled him closer, his fingers hooking in the belt of Eli’s uniform as if to secure him in place.

Thrawn was a head taller than Eli, which had bothered him during those first few months they knew each other, but right now, when their respective heights put Thrawn’s throat so perfectly within biting distance, Eli was completely fine with it. He licked Thrawn’s neck, and it had the exact effect he remembered: Thrawn’s hands spasming on his back, the Chiss tilting his head back to give Eli better access.

He did it again, and followed it up with a bite, a little nip that immediately darkened the blue skin to a dusky purple. And, more importantly, it made Thrawn moan.

Eli’d been sure those noises were the lock and key talking, before, but no—Thrawn was just vocal.

Oh, Eli liked this.

Almost as much as he liked the way Thrawn let him push him against the desk, so Thrawn was half-perched on it, Eli standing between his legs; or how he liked the way Thrawn's eyes fluttered shut when Eli tangled his hands in his hair, mussing it from its perfect coif, and pulled, just as hard as he had that first time, when Thrawn was on his knees before him.

Thrawn's mouth fell open slightly when Eli pulled his hair, and Eli took advantage of the situation and leaned in and kissed him. It was not a frantic kiss, not like that first one they'd shared, but something deeper, more potent. Eli had always loved kissing: the slide of tongue against tongue, the intimacy of it, of not directly seeking pleasure but simply taking delight in the physical presence of the other person, having them in your arms. Just as Thrawn was now, his hands still around Eli's waist, his fingers stroking Eli's back, their light touch sending shivers up his spine.

"Should we go somewhere else?" Eli asked Thrawn, mumbling against his lips. Truthfully, he didn't want to stop at all, even to go somewhere more comfortable, but the offer seemed like one he should make. "Your quarters? Mine?"

"No," Thrawn said in a near-whisper. He nipped Eli's lip—and yeah, Eli could see why that had triggered a moan earlier; he uttered a little gasp at the sensation himself—and added, "I want you to take me here, Eli."

Take me . He couldn't possibly mean—

He did. He definitely meant it. Eli could see it in his eyes, deadly serious, and almost hesitant, which was not an expression Eli had often seen on Thrawn's face. Or…ever, really.

"Okay," Eli said, and when that didn't feel like a strong enough affirmative, he added firmly, "Good."

Thrawn's eyes flared and he lunged forward, capturing Eli's mouth again. Eli kissed back just as fiercely, and put his hands to Thrawn's collar, fiddling with the button there. It was infinitely easier to manage sober, and he was able to unbutton, unzip, and strip Thrawn out of the tunic within a minute, leaving him in his undershirt—which still did not look remotely standard issue on him—and uniform trousers.

Eli held him by the shoulders and took a step back, drinking him in. Thrawn's lips were swollen from kissing and his hair was a mess, a light purple flush across his cheekbones; he looked almost flustered ( almost ).

I did that, Eli thought with a swell of affection and arousal that made him go hot all over. I made him look like that. It's a good look.

And judging from the way Thrawn was looking at him, half-dazed lust was a good look on Eli too.

"You're blushing," Thrawn noted. His voice was steady. Eli really wanted it not to be.

"Yeah, well, take off your shirt," he said—not one of his better comebacks, but Thrawn was stripping off the undershirt at his command and that, Eli felt, was a success.

His own tunic suddenly felt stifling. Eli raised his hands to his collar.

"Allow me," Thrawn said, and then his fingers were at Eli's throat, unbuttoning his collar deftly. There was something different, almost strange, about having Thrawn serve him like this. Eli liked it.

Eli shrugged off the tunic, letting it fall to the floor, and yanked the undershirt over his head. Then Thrawn's hands were on him, exploring.

"Your freckles are intriguing," he murmured, and lowered his head to Eli's shoulder, tracing the freckles with his tongue like he was drawing constellations. Eli gripped him by the biceps to steady himself, because the sensation of Thrawn's cool mouth on him was just as dizzying as it had been under the lock and key, although this time, he knew it was due to pure arousal and nothing else.

Stars, he was hard, throbbing in his trousers. He desperately wanted to be touched, was thinking about Thrawn's mouth on him, and about what Thrawn wanted from him tonight. To be buried inside Thrawn—inside him, knowing that Thrawn wanted that intimacy, that vulnerability—and feeling him hot and tight around his cock, might actually make Eli's head explode. He couldn't wait.

"I think," he managed, struggling to articulate his thoughts; Thrawn had discovered the sensitive place on Eli's neck behind his ear and was nibbling on it, running his tongue up the shell of his ear, sucking the earlobe in his mouth before nipping it and going back to that place on his neck. Eli was going to have one hell of a bruise there after this. Thrawn, marking him; he shivered. "I think we're still wearing too many clothes."

"I agree," Thrawn said, and didn't stop.

His hands slid down Eli's back and palmed his ass, squeezing it firmly, before tugging his hips forward to grind his cock against Eli's. Eli gasped and rolled his hips unthinkingly, and the friction made his mouth drop open. It wasn't enough, though, not nearly enough. Eli needed Thrawn naked and rubbing up against him with no fabric in the way.

All the same, he felt like he deserved a commendation for pulling away when Thrawn was doing that to his neck.

Eli kicked off his boots and pulled his trousers down. Thrawn was doing the same, every movement contained and graceful, before leaning back on the desk.

Eli stared. He hadn't appreciated the sight of Thrawn naked properly before, too overwhelmed by the lock and key, but stars—the man was a work of art, truly, like he'd been carved out of lapis. Except for his burning eyes, and his hard cock, flushed indigo and leaking precome, which were entirely alive.

Eli wanted to suck that cock. And he would.

He sank to his knees before Thrawn in deliberate mimicry of what Thrawn had done to him weeks earlier, spreading Thrawn's thighs for easier access.

"Eli," Thrawn said, and cut himself off with a sharp gasp as Eli leaned in and ran his tongue around the head of his cock before sucking it into his mouth. He curled one hand around the base, stroking him in rhythm to the bobbing of his head. He took Thrawn in as far as he could, letting himself gag, letting saliva drip down Thrawn's cock, then withdrew almost completely. Then he did it again, and again, until Thrawn was hissing between his teeth and his hand was tangled in Eli's hair.

"Eli," he said again, more urgently this time, and Eli reacted to the unspoken command. Thrawn wanted him to go further? Then he would.

"Do you have any lubricant?" he asked.

"Unnecessary," Thrawn said, with one of his almost imperceptible Chiss smiles. "Saliva will do. I've practiced."

"Oh," Eli said faintly, because the mental image of Thrawn, practicing for this, fingering himself alone in his quarters, maybe even using a dildo—did Thrawn even own sex toys? Eli would have to find out—was a little overwhelming. Maybe he'd even been thinking about this while he did it, about Eli . "Here, lean down."

Thrawn did, one eyebrow quirked in question, and Eli shoved his fingers inside Thrawn's mouth. Thrawn's eyes widened, startled, then narrowed, and he deliberately swirled his tongue across the pads of Eli's fingers, fellating them like they were Eli's cock. Eli had had no idea his hands were erogenous zones, but judging from the way his cock was twitching, they definitely were.

Finally, he tugged his fingers from Thrawn's mouth; a string of saliva connected them for a second before Thrawn wiped it away. Eli pushed Thrawn's legs even further apart, spreading him open for him. It still didn't seem like enough lube, so Eli spat, and gently pressed a finger against his hole.

Thrawn moaned and his head fell back, his back arching to bring his hips closer to Eli's hand, and he really hadn't been exaggerating when he said he'd practiced; his body was loose and relaxed, and Eli's fingers slipped inside with ease. He barely needed preparation at all.

Eli moved his fingers and coaxed a truly wonderful sound from Thrawn, who grabbed for Eli's hair and demanded, "More."

"Say please," Eli said before he could think about it, and clamped his mouth shut immediately, blushing hard.

" Please ," Thrawn said instantly, which Eli hadn't expected. Finally his voice was unsteady.

"Good," Eli said. He was remarking on the entire situation, but Thrawn clearly took it as praise; he shuddered all over and his hands tightened in Eli's hair. Eli really didn't want Thrawn to stop touching him, but he shook off his hands anyway, and stood. "Now turn around."

Thrawn obeyed—and that was intoxicating, Thrawn obeying what Eli was telling him—and bent over the desk, knowing exactly what Eli wanted of him. Eli smoothed his hand over the taut arch of his spine, marveling at the sight. Thrawn glanced over his shoulder and met Eli's gaze, eyes glittering. He arched a brow in a way that clearly meant Get on with it .

So Eli did.

He spat in his hand and rubbed it on his cock, Thrawn's intense gaze still on him, and nudged Thrawn's legs further apart with his foot. Thrawn arched his back and Eli gently pushed into him, and—

Eli had never done this before. He'd never imagined it would feel so spectacular—Thrawn clenched around him, the pressure alone sending waves of pleasure from his groin through his entire body. He wasn't sure he could move without coming.

Beneath him, Thrawn sighed, " Oh ," and ground back against him. And really, Eli couldn't stay still when Thrawn was doing that.

He gripped his hips—hard, he wanted to leave bruises on Thrawn just like Thrawn did on him—and thrust, and that friction was just—

"Oh, fuck," Eli said, barely aware that he was speaking at all, and his next thrust was harder, making Thrawn grunt. Eli stroked his back and Thrawn pressed back against him, wanting more.

"You don't need to treat me gently," he hissed.

So Eli didn't; Eli grabbed him by the hips and fucked him properly, and with each thrust Thrawn moaned, which was going to drive Eli crazy in the best way possible. He went to his elbows over Thrawn, pressing his chest against Thrawn's back, pinning him down, and the Chiss squirmed beneath him.

Thrawn, Eli had begun to realize with growing delight, genuinely preferred it when Eli took charge; it hadn't been the lock and key at all—he was desperate, he was submissive, he did want Eli with the same intensity that Eli wanted him—

Pleasure was sparking up Eli's spine, a feeling he was intimate with, a sign he was growing close. Beneath him, Thrawn was panting, his back arching hard, and Eli couldn't stop—

His vision whited out briefly, and he collapsed on top of Thrawn.

When he came back to himself, it was to the realization that Thrawn had snaked a hand between himself and the desk and was working his cock, his body tense below Eli.

"Let me," Eli murmured in his ear, and reached around to wrap his hand around Thrawn's cock. The Chiss was wired and very, very close; he whispered Eli's name in a strangled voice, his fingers twitching on the desk, his body clenching around Eli, and came into Eli's hand with a shudder and a moan.

Eli licked his ear, which made Thrawn sigh, and carefully withdrew. Thrawn remained where he was, his head pressed against the desk, for a moment, before turning his head and glancing over his shoulder at Eli.

"A good choice," he said. His voice was a little hoarse from all that moaning.

Eli couldn't help the smug smile that spread over his face. He brought his hand up to his mouth and licked Thrawn's come off his fingers, enjoying the way it made Thrawn's eyes go wide.

"Thank you," Eli said. "I thought so."

Thrawn gazed at him for another moment, expression hungry, and for once, Eli knew exactly what he was thinking: they had twelve hours before they had to be back on shift, and they didn't need all of them for sleeping.

"A shower first," Thrawn said. "You are, of course, free to join me."

"I will," Eli said, and smiled at him.

"Lieutenant Commander Vanto," Thrawn's cool voice said over Eli's comlink, jolting him out of his reverie. He'd been putting his skill with numbers and patterns to use learning slicing, lately, and found it easy to get so lost in it that hours would pass before he came back to reality. But he always paid attention when he heard Thrawn's voice. "My quarters, if you please."

A grin spread over Eli's face. He still wasn't over his promotion, and the sound of his title on Thrawn's lips was immensely satisfying. Not quite as satisfying as his given name, but still—Lieutenant Commander.

And of course, there was the knowledge of what exactly they'd be doing in Thrawn's quarters tonight. Speaking of satisfying.

"On my way, sir," he told Thrawn, and saved his work before shutting down his datapad and leaving his quarters with a jaunty step.
Thrawn was waiting for him, stretched out on the bed with his boots off and a datapad in his hands, looking about as relaxed as could be. He glanced over the top of the datapad when Eli entered, and his lips curved slightly.

"Eli," he said. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," Eli said, dropping the honorific, like they always did in private.

He was considering just taking the datapad from Thrawn's hands and straddling him—it had been weeks since their last night together, they'd been so busy, and Eli was feeling a little desperate—but Thrawn set it down before he could.

"Confiscated from a pair of noncoms," he said, gesturing to the bedside table.

Eli looked at the items on the table: two gnarled pieces of what looked like a root, dried and sliced. It was blood-red in color and had a pungent, almost bitter odor.

"That's lock and key," he said slowly. "You said it was confiscated?"

"Yes," Thrawn said. That little smile was still on his lips. Eli wanted to kiss him until he was gasping. "Perhaps you know of a proper way to dispose of it."

"I have a few ideas," Eli said with a grin. "Incineration is always a good way—the fumes aren't harmful. We could jettison it into space—"

Thrawn arched an eyebrow at him.

"Or," Eli concluded, "we could just…"

He plucked one of the pieces of root from the table and put it in his mouth. The bitter flavor was enough to make him wince, but it faded quickly after Eli swallowed.

"See?" he said, spreading his arms. "Like it never existed."

"Commander, that is illegal," Thrawn commented, amusement in his voice.

"You know, Thrawn," Eli said. "I'm just doing my duty, saving those NCOs from consuming a dangerous drug."

"Ah, your duty," Thrawn said with a straight face. "Of course."

Thrawn took the second piece of root and chewed it. Eli watched his throat bob as he swallowed. The root was a lot more potent than the tincture they'd originally been dosed with, and Eli was already starting to feel the effects: a mental fixation on Thrawn's skin, on touching him, on pressing his lips to his neck and leaving marks there. The other, more physical aspects of the drug weren't there yet, but Eli knew it would only be a few minutes.

"I'm curious why you didn't just dispose of it," Eli said, asking the question while he still was able to speak coherently.

"There is a certain sense of satisfaction in coming full circle," Thrawn said. He licked his lips, staring at Eli like he wanted to eat him. Eli was fine with that. "An artistic symmetry to the event. Do you not agree?"

"Sure," Eli said agreeably, and pounced, pushing Thrawn flat against the bed, straddling his hips. Thrawn's hands landed on Eli's waist and traveled downwards, squeezing. "It's damn near poetic."

He pressed his lips to Thrawn's and Thrawn sighed into his mouth, arching his back into Eli's touch.

They didn't talk much after that.