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hereforthefanficsandromance · 3 months

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The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

Cal reaches out to a trusted friend to figure out what was wrong with the celebratory food. Rating: 18+ Words: 1.8K

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I stand in my office, wearing the thick material of my Inquisitor pants and only my undershirt; a tank top. I sit at my desk, but find the fabric, while useful in hiding an erection, rather abrasive when sitting with said erection.

The holopad sits centered on my desk, a new staple of my life. While my Light was in a coma, I sought comfort; finding solace in the plethora of stories housed in the handheld device. I attempted to read her stories, but our tastes differ and it became painful to read the words that she once held dear.

I lean against the desk’s edge, finding small comfort in the position and pick up the treasured reader. Sending a message to my most trusted advisor, Kaahlii.

Kaahlii,

I may have made a mistake. What do you know about Camby berries and Chak juice? Are they both safe for human consumption?

-Cal

I wait, my free hand palming my erection, desperate for relief from the painful discomfort of being unnaturally hard. Kaahlii, ever reliable, doesn’t make me wait long for a response.

Thirteenth Brother Cal,

Odd to hear an Inquisitor admit to a mistake, perhaps there is hope for you yet. I am aware of the traditional food. Naboo is home to many Cambylictus trees and the people there, human and otherwise, consume it regularly.

The Chak juice is a different story. It only comes from the Spirit Tree on Endor. However, there are no cases of human consumption being a problem.

How did you get your hands on it?

-Kaahlii

Owner and Operator of Second Chance Literature

I chuckle at the dig towards my kind. Kaahlii’s a straight shooter, something I like; gone are the days of honesty. Most fear me and speak to appease my temper. Those above me care not for my personal development. Kaahlii is an outlier; she has never feared me, perhaps because Light likes her and I love my Light. Or maybe because she can tell when I’m bluffing.

Kaahlii,

You don’t have to be so formal with me, please. You said yourself this is a secure way to contact you. I know your technology exceeds the best of the Empire.

The Camby berries came from Naboo, but the Chak juice… You’re going to be mad at me. Go easy on me, okay? I got them from a goods smuggler.

Also, your bookstore has a name? Why did you put your position and business too?

-Just Cal

The carnal need is driving me mad. I consider throwing care to the wind and demanding my Light’s body, taking her as I had before the accident. But I resist, refusing to sacrifice progress for my own selfish needs. To my relief, the reader chimes and my eyes scan the screen, eager for a distraction.

Just Thirteenth Brother Cal,

This is a secure line, but considering how loose you operate with safety (the Black Market, really?), I’m not sure that you won’t slip up and let my technology fall into the hands of someone with more sinister values.

I’ll need a moment to research with this new and horrifying information. Also, Rosara continues to ask when you will read for the children again. You should visit as soon as you are able.

You would know my business had a name if you had ever bothered to enter as a customer. It’s called a signature. Businesses use it to seem more professional when messaging clients.

-Kaahlii

Owner and Operator of Second Chance Literature

I smile at the prospect of seeing Rosara, another person who sees my true nature. I type out a message to Kaahlii, emphasizing my original name.

Kaahlii,

I know, I messed up; I was just trying to do something special for her. I’ll await your research, though, if you can, faster is preferable.

Visitation will be a possibility once things are more stable here. I fear she’ll run if I take her anywhere at the moment.

-Cal Kestis

Minutes elongate as I wait for Kaahlii’s response. I stealth towards the open door, wondering if my Light is feeling similar effects. She sits on our couch, the back of her head visible. I look harder; one shoulder moves rhythmically, barely perceivable. A smile creeps across my face. She is needy, too.

I listen, wanting to catch any of the sweet sounds that fall from her mouth as she works. Frustration leads me to peer into her mind, hoping to hear her desire, hoping she thinks of me.

She imagines a compromising position and, to my delight, I see I am in control of her pleasure. My face buried between her thighs, her head thrown back in open-mouthed ecstasy. My fingers stuffed deep inside her hungry cunt, curling and relaxing with each thrust.

I rub myself through my clothes, wishing to give into her desires. If she would only ask, I would eat her out until my tongue stopped working. The holopad dings and her head turns as I move out of view, walking back to my desk in silence.

Inquisitor Cal, Thirteenth Brother Kestis,

I’m afraid that I may now know why you are so eager for a hurried response. I truly do not want to imagine you in this light. I’d rather hear of the crimes you’ve committed against your fellow Jedi.

The Black Market is an unreliable resource for novelty goods, something I should not have to explain to someone with so much power. Chak juice is often cut with a nectar commonly found in Kashyyyk. This allows dealers to keep a high price while giving you a fraction of what you were hoping for. The taste is similar enough but has a few unfortunate side effects.

It is commonly used by black market animal breeders, to encourage their stock to stay plentiful. The side effect is similar in humans: high sex drive.

That’s not all, it also causes memory loss.

Cal, I know you stopped reading at those words, but come back and bear with me. The memory loss is only of the day of consumption, nothing else. You aren’t going to lose her again. I promise.

If anything, she may be more eager to spend some…quality time with you. Do yourself a favor and delete the messages from today. It’s not worth the stress you will feel later when trying to piece together more lost memories.

-Kaahlii

Owner and Operator of Second Chance Literature

I freeze, sickened, knowing she will forget again. Rage bubbles at the loss; a day I made for her, to honor and love her, to show her I can be everything she wants.

I consider writing myself a detailed note, outlining the events of today, hoping to preserve what will soon be gone. Kaahlii’s words ring true; I can’t cause myself more stress with another unsolved mystery. I consider meditating on the matter, but the dull ache of being hard reminds me I lack the blood to think clearly.

After consideration, I delete the messages and decide I will clean the kitchen and erase any evidence of today. To avoid further confusion, I create a mess on my desk, hoping my future self will assume I was completing mundane activities on the missing day. I stride toward the kitchen, knowing there are no consequences for today’s actions. Intentions set on making the most of it.

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You almost jump out of your skin when Cal’s footsteps approach from behind you.Stilling your frantic movements as your heart pumps a surge of adrenaline through your body.

Cal doesn’t glance at you, busy instead cleaning the kitchen. You sit there, paralyzed, wondering if he is reading your mind, aware of the need at your core. He doesn’t seem to notice, but you aren’t sure. You debate excusing yourself to the bathroom, but his arms being on display keeps you firmly seated on the couch.

Your eyes drink in his beauty, looking over every inch of exposed skin, feeling disappointed he wore a shirt. Cal doesn’t glance up, as he often does when you admire him in your mind. He looks distracted, maybe even disappointed.

You decide to take a risk, bringing your hand back between your legs. The movements are timid, attempting to enjoy yourself in secret. But your eyes track Cal’s every movement, though your head angles forward.

Cal washes the dishes by hand, laying them to dry on a towel, his biceps flexing as he scrubs. Sparks of pleasure shoot through you as you make contact, using three fingers to sweep the entire area in long drags. The needy ache seems momentarily appeased, but demands more, urging you to watch the attractive man that could solve your problem.

He turns to the counter and furrows his eyebrows. You watch, eyes raking over his arms, following down as he uses his middle and ring finger, gliding it along the stone surface. Your heart skips a beat at the extremely intimate gesture. The motion stops and he holds the hand before his eyes, curling the two filthy fingers to rub smoothly against his thumb; determining the counter will need cleaning.

Unconsciously, your hand imitates the motion, stuffing yourself with the same two fingers and curling just as Cal had. You press your lips together, calming yourself. But your mind pictures Cal’s fingers instead, begging you to ask for his help. You refuse the impulse, but don’t look away.

Cal wipes down the counters before moving to dry and put away the pile of clean dishes. He opens every cabinet and drawer necessary, and upon completion, he moves to close them all. Only, he doesn’t close the drawers with his hands. Instead, placing his hands on the counter and using his pelvis to bump them closed. The movement is inherently sexual.

You’d typically laugh, but the desire in your belly replaces the humor with lust. Feeding the fire and creating imaginary intimate scenes with the man. Picturing laying beneath him while he thrusts deep into you, claiming your body. You want to know what he might feel like.

Your thumb brushes over your clit, and a tiny moan slips out. Cal looks up, eyes dark and focused. Yours widen in panic, awkwardly clearing your throat. He says nothing, and it feels worse.

He resumes working, and you slide your fingers out, wiping the mess on your thighs. You toss the blanket to the side, heading for the back of his quarters, needing to finish in private. Cal also heads for the hallway, forcing you to dodge to squeeze past him.

Except you stumble, and Cal’s warm hand envelops your upper arm. You look up, meeting his eyes. Time stands still.

Your mind, hazed with lust, draws your attention down to his full lips. The heat of his gaze lingers on your face, waiting. He smells good, and he’s so close, it wouldn’t take much.

Your body decides for you, a tiny step forward, lifting your chin. Cal leans down to meet you halfway. Your lips collide, hands quick to find purchase on the other’s body. Yours in his damp hair, fisting handfuls of the soft coppery waves. Cal’s find the backs of your thighs, lifting you to wrap around him as he presses you into the wall. Everything in your body lights up.

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