Chapter Text
“What you did was reckless!” Crosshair shouts over his shoulder as you follow him up the ramp and back into The Marauder.
“Everyone is alive, aren’t they?” You shout back, wincing and dropping your pack onto your bunk before beginning to take your armor off. “Or would you rather Echo be dead while the rest of us got away just fine?” You snap. Crosshair doesn’t respond with words, only a low growl as he pushes past you into the refresher, stripping his own armor as he goes.
You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself by finding the med kit and tending to your shoulder. The blaster bolt had only grazed you, thankfully, otherwise you’d be in the medical ward alongside Echo. Tech elected to stay behind to keep an eye on his vod, while Wrecker and Hunter were preparing a debriefing report. Realizing you wouldn’t be able to accomplish much with your ruined shirt sleeve in the way, you sigh, annoyed, and pull the garment up over your head. You hiss when the burned fabric pulls at your wound, and the fresher door opens. Looking towards the sound, you see Crosshair standing in the doorway, stripped down to just his lower body glove and boots, staring at you, one of those infuriating toothpicks dangling lazily from his lips.
You roll your eyes and pointedly focus on applying a bacta patch, having to twist yourself at an odd angle to reach the injury properly. Crosshair moves past you, mumbling something as he goes. Normally, you’d ignore it, but today you were in no mood. You stomp after him.
“What did you just say?” You demand, staring him down. Well, up, since he's about a foot taller than you. He sneers down his nose at you, taking the toothpick out of his mouth.
“You know, the regs are bad enough, but they at least have some discipline, unlike you,” he says, flicking it into your chest. Incensed, you can barely contain yourself from shouting again as you respond.
“Discipline! That’s rich coming from you.” Before he can open his mouth to speak again, you continue, “If I had a single credit for each time you specifically went against orders, I could buy myself a new speeder!”
Crosshair stood uncharacteristically rigid, appearing surprised that you were finally standing up to him. You barely notice as you take another step towards him, poking him in his bare chest. “You don’t give a damn about discipline, or orders, unless you’re the one giving them.” You punctuate the last few words by repeatedly jabbing your index finger into his sternum. Thrown off balance, he falls backwards and onto a crate, now sitting just under eye-level with you.
You huff, holding a hand to your hip, the other still pointed at him, but no longer poking. After a moment, when he doesn’t speak, you laugh bitterly. “What, nothing to say? The ineffable Crosshair, greatest sniper in the galaxy, has finally shut his damn mouth? I’m shocked,” you say, slightly mocking as you lean closer to him. When he leans away, you find yourself slightly confused. He’s never passed up an opportunity to argue with anyone. So, you take a second to look over the man before you. His eyes are wide, and you notice his pupils are blown; his breathing is a bit fast, and he seems to be sweating slightly. If you didn’t know any better…
This line of thought is interrupted when you catch him shifting on the crate, and as you stare down at him, you both notice a very telling bulge in his lap. In disbelief, you force yourself to look him in the eyes again. He looks panicked. You smirk, leaning down to place both of your hands on either side of him on the crate, caging him below you. Remembering that you only have your bra on your top half, you arch your back just enough, and catch him looking wildly between your breasts and face.
“Maker,” you whisper, startled. “You like this, don’t you?” You say.
“I don’t,” Crosshair starts to speak, but you stop him by putting a finger to his lips, the touch feather-light.
“Don’t lie to me. Look at you, sweating like we’re on Tatooine in the summertime. And here I was, thinking that snipers were supposed to be more composed than that,” you say, voice lower and husky, slowly leaning your face closer to his, and you hear his breath hitch as you do. You smirk again, looking down at him. Seeing such a usually stoic man so nervous, and because of you no less, is, well… intoxicating. As he stares up at you, unconsciously leaning closer, you suddenly stand up straight, bringing your hands to your hips. The desperate whine that leaves his throat sends a hot wave of arousal down to your core. You turn, no longer facing him and say, “I’d tell you to follow me, but there’s no point, since you don’t follow orders.” Deciding to move to the cockpit, you don’t look back.
As you start to walk away you put a little more swing in your hips than usual. Part of you feels ridiculous for doing so, but more of you feels empowered, not so subtly teasing him. You’ve almost reached the door to the cockpit when you hear a scramble of movement behind you. You pause, and turn around to see Crosshair less than a foot away from you, breathing heavily and clenching his hands around nothing. You close the gap, your face barely a breath away from his, and smirk again.
“Well, how about that; Looks like you can do what you’re told,” you say, satisfied. You’re close enough now to feel his heavy breathing on your lips.
Then, shattering the tense silence, your commlink beeps. It’s Hunter, asking the two of you to meet him and the others for the debriefing. “Right away Sarge,” you say, voice completely back to normal. You look over at Crosshair one last time, amused by the pure want in his expression. You hum a little before moving past him towards your bunk, leaving him rooted to the spot. You quickly find an undamaged tunic and throw it on, heading towards the Marauders ramp. With a pause, you glance back to see the sniper looking devastated, his face flushed and sweating.
“Well?” You say. “You heard him. Gotta follow orders.” You drop him a wink and continue down the ramp.