Chapter Text
Spenc didn't like that Rosita was keeping her face buried in Kalin's pillow; it muffled her moans. He shifted his weight only to settle back down to lie over the backs of her thighs, prodding her asshole in little semi-circles with his finger. The poor thing really hadn't a clue what she was in for, not really. He sat up and settled himself between her legs. "And you're sure Kalin won't come back tonight?" he asked.
"Yes," Rosita said, lifting her face to groan deliciously when he slipped another lubed-up digit in her.
"You better be right about that. Kalin would go straight to Deenlark if she saw us using her bed this way. You know that, right?" Rosita grunted, whether in understanding or discomfort, it was hard to say at the moment. He pulled out his fingers and moved to press his cock down over her crack. It reached up to her lumbar region like a thick tail. "Just look at that," he said. "It's crazy, because you'd think it wouldn't fit, but you know it will." He rubbed his head against her back, smearing her with his precum.
When Spenc and Rosita conspired with his sister on how best to handle Thrawn, it was decided that using a lone attacker to deliver one punishing blow would look suspicious, what with the race only days away. Kyria, much to Spenc's delight, suggested they swarm him with numbers instead. Bouts of gang violence happened even on the high levels of Coruscant, she had remarked, it wouldn't look out of the ordinary. Because Thrawn was a near-human, Kyria was able to estimate where best to focus their efforts and where to avoid to reduce the risk of accidental death. Spenc squirmed in his seat as she listed out possible injuries. He would deliver them all if he could, and he said so, only Kyria and Rosita wouldn't hear it. They suggested—no, demanded he not partake.
"Thrawn would recognize you," Rosita had said.
"Dad won't bail you out this time," Kyria had reminded him.
On and on they went; he only relented when Rosita promised she would do him a favour in return. Anything he wanted, she said. An-y-thing. So, on the way back to campus, he made his demands known: The only way he was missing the fight was if Rosita let him in her ass until he was finished. And when he did finish, it would be on her harpy of a roommate's bed. Spenc was particularly adamant about that last part. He loathed Kalin about as much as she loathed him.
And so here they were, Rosita's fingers curled in Kalin's sheets, and the springs of her mattress giving way to his knees. "You know," he began conversationally, smacking himself against her bottom. "For this to work, you'll have to relax. Are you capable?" he leaned over and added in a low voice, "You don't want me slowing you down for the race as well." He grinned slyly when Rosita turned to glower at him over her shoulder. "Lie on your back," he added lightly, "I want to see your face when I do it." She was oddly complacent— considering her mood earlier, but he wasn't going to dwell on that now. He sat back and watched her turn around, first straightening out the towel below her back, then making a show of lubing himself up to help ease her mind. He had enough experience to know she required more preparation for someone his size, but the pain was half the fun, and he was so very tired of waiting.
"They say it helps to breathe deeply," he said, before beginning his descent.
How she whimpered. The sound was deep and guttural, and Spenc swore he could feel it in his dick. He held himself propped up on his elbow and focused on where they were connected; a thick black serpent was trying to disappear behind a smooth pink-and-white flower. She held the very, very tip of him in an unyielding grip, and he fought against that instinct which screamed, "MORE!" This required him to breathe deeply through his nostrils, clench the sheets, and focus on the feeling of his sweat beading on his forehead.
Crisis diverted. Spenc smothered her chest with his and stayed there, unmoving, allowing her the chance to slowly accept him.
Between her body's natural instinct to push objects out of her colon and her hands pushing against his thighs, he knew they were in for the long game. He rewarded himself for his patience by melding his tongue with hers and swallowing her moans. Kissing seemed to help the process, as he was able to very gradually inch his way deeper to cradle more of himself inside her.
"How's that?" he murmured throatily.
"No more."
"Not yet," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her again. He broke off to ask, "Does it hurt very much?" When Rosita buried her face in his neck and grunted an affirmative, he cooed sympathetically, but when he pulled away to look her in the face, he wore a smile that said he'd have it no other way. They made it all the way when she dug her nails into his thighs.
"Wait!" she cried, and her face was twisted most satisfyingly. Spenc pulled out a bit to get her used to the feeling, then pushed back in. It was the getting back in part that really made her squeal. He claimed her lips again and swallowed more of her moans.
"I said wait!" she hissed, pulling her mouth away.
'Alright!' he thought, eyes rolling back into his skull with pleasure.
And then—
—One of their commlinks buzzed angrily against the floor.
Rosita immediately tensed up.
"No, no, don't do that," he said, holding his position against her muscles as they tried to shut him out.
"Better get that," she replied, twisting herself free.
Cursing, Spenc reached for his pants and grabbed his comm from the pocket, then he looked down at the name of the wretch he was going to kill.
Cormac Piles.
He turned the volume down before answering. "Are you dim?"
"It's Gimm! Thrawn saw his face! He has him now!"
Thrawn saw his face? He has him now? Spenc pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm hanging up now," he said monotonously.
"I mean it," Piles snapped. "Thrawn got a hold of him and ripped it off!"
"Where are you?"
"In the speeder—we ran!"
"So, you're saying you left Gilroy there?"
"We had to!"
"Why didn't you take care of Thrawn first?"
"What do you mean? We were taking care of him, that's when he ripped Gimm's mask off!"
Piles was clearly beside himself with panic—this was no joke. Spenc stood up and spat into the device, "You should have bashed his head in and made him an unreliable witness!"
"Keep your voice down," Rosita hissed. He slapped her hand away when she attempted to snatch his comm from his hand.
"I swear," Piles griped. "It was like he knew we were coming. He knew! He led us where we couldn't see!"
Spenc filed that bit of information away for later. "Just stick to the plan," he growled. "Boervox and the Nateels need to get to the Simulation Room, tell them to play some games. Remember, it's just an ordinary night. Gilroy won't name any of us; he has his grandmother to get him out of this."
"And if he does?"
The very notion could not be conceived. Spenc told Piles to meet him in his room, then hung up.
"What happened?" Rosita asked, her hands moving up to her mouth.
…
Spenc made his way down to the physical training department only to see Thrawn and Vanto were already there, sitting on the low bench outside the doors leading to the offices. He leaned on the wall opposite them and waited, avoiding their gazes by scrolling through his datapad.
It had been a tumultuous and trying day, and he knew it was only about to get worse. Major Garber, the head of the physical training department, stuck his head out of the door and called not just for him but Thrawn and Vanto as well. Inside Garber's office were a desk and three chairs. Thrawn and Vanto took the two spares, leaving Spenc to stand by the door. He crossed his arms and tried to keep his expression neutral.
"Five students in your program are no longer with us," Garber began, "Two of whom were on your team for the upcoming relay, Orbar."
"Gimm and Piles," Spenc cocked his head, really trying to sell that confounded look. "Where are they?"
"That I don't know," he replied. "Fortunately for you, Lieutenant Thrawn and Cadet Vanto here have a team of two—you will be their third."
"With all due respect—" Spenc began, but Garber cut him off by raising his hand.
"Those are Commandant Deenlark's orders," he said as if that were all he needed to know. "Now, to ensure this goes smoothly, I'll mediate the assignment of your roles. Orbar, you first, what will it be? The dive, the butterfly or freestyle?"
"I'll do the dive," he said at once.
Vanto's head snapped in his direction. "I was doing the dive for our team," he whinged.
"That was when it was you and Thrawn," Spenc sneered. "Now I'm on your team."
"Cadet Gimm was your diver," Thrawn said mildly.
The sniffing cretin hadn't the nerve to turn and face him when he said it, but Spenc could picture that little smirk of his. If only he hadn't let his womenfolk talk him out of joining the fight, things would have ended differently. He noticed earlier that not one of them managed to cause any damage to Thrawn's face, and why? Because Thrawn had known what was coming. He had led them into the dark, where, because of those freakish eyes of his, he had an advantage.
"Yes, he was," Spenc replied. "But Gimm's not here, and I so wanted to be our team's diver at first."
"Very good," Garber said. "You should be prepared for any role thrown at you, so, Vanto, would you like to do the butterfly or freestyle portion?"
"Freestyle," Vanto replied in a dull, monotonous voice.
Spenc smirked— he would have some balm for his bruises.
"That leaves Lieutenant Thrawn for the butterfly," Garber said briskly. "Alright, you're dismissed. I'm sure you have much to discuss."
Spenc wrenched the door open and headed out of there as quickly as his feet would allow. He would find Rosita, and they would discuss the real reason she wanted to end the fight.