Stress Relief

Wes Janson hitched his tray sideways to make room for Wedge to join them in the canteen. The other Rogues present, Hobbie, Tycho and Plourr, greeted their commander as he sat down. Wedge nodded, putting his datapad on the table next to his food.

“We were beginning to think you weren’t joining us,” Tycho said, cutting a neat slice off his dessert with his spoon.

Wedge looked up. “I wanted to finish the current pilot assessments before I get started on selecting new squad members.” He took a large mouthful of dubious-looking stew and chewed briskly.

Hobbie peered at Wedge’s lunch. “You chose the Bothan gumbo ? I hope you’re paying more attention to your work than you are to your food. That stuff’ll give you stomach cramps.”

Wedge shook his head. “Haven’t got time for stomach cramps.” He turned his attention to his datapad, eating absent-mindedly as he studied the screen.

The other pilots looked at one another, then continued talking without trying to include Wedge. He was oblivious to them, his mind occupied by the work on his datapad. He certainly didn’t notice Janson surreptitiously adding salt to his mug of caf. Plourr shot Janson a warning look, but stayed quiet and waited to see what would happen. Hobbie saw the look on Janson’s face and braced himself for trouble.

Wedge had almost finished his gumbo before he reached for his mug. Still engrossed in his work, he took two mouthful before the taste registered. He reflexively spat caf back into the mug, sputtering. Janson burst out laughing, Plourr grinned; Hobbie and Tycho winced. Wedge turned on Janson.

“Kriff, Wes ! Do you always have to be so stupid ?” He shot the words out fiercely.

Janson recoiled from Wedge’s outburst, holding his hands up in an apologetic gesture.

“Wedge ! I’m sorry…”

Wedge almost snapped something else, but caught himself. He glared at Wes for a few moments longer, then the anger died from his face. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

“Sorry, Wes. I shouldn’t have shouted like that. I’ve got a mass of datawork to do, and meetings with General Salm to prepare for. Flying into a Death Star is less stressful than all this.”

Janson clapped him on the shoulder “You need to learn to switch off sometimes, Wedge. If you’d relaxed for lunch, instead of bringing work with you, I’d never have got the salt into your mug.” He grinned smugly. “I did get your mind off your datapad though, admit it.”

Wedge was forced to smile. “You did, Wes. Now do me another favour and get me a fresh mug of caf.”

As Janson got up to fetch another drink, Tycho leaned across the table.

“He’s got a point, Wedge. You need to take time out and relax a bit.”

Wedge shut down his datapad and leaned back in his chair. He winced a little, and rolled his shoulders to ease stiffness. “I know. As soon as I’ve done the first read-through of the pilot candidates list, I’ll send it over to you and you can check it out.” He massaged his forehead with his fingers. “I swear I’m going to unplug my workstation this evening and do absolutely nothing. Relax, unwind, sleep. Fantasize about a galaxy with no annual status reviews.”

Hobbie spoke up. “We may have freed the galaxy from the Emperor’s grip, but I don’t think even Rogue Squadron can free the galaxy from the evils of bureaucracy.”

Wedge sighed. “You are so right.”

That evening, Wedge did almost exactly as he’d promised. Tycho had left the cramped office they shared a little earlier than usual, with a reminder to Wedge not to stay late. Wedge had left only half an hour after the work day officially ended. The walk back to his own quarters felt good after the hours in a chair. Wedge rolled his stiff shoulders and made a mental note to book himself some time in the gym. This base had some excellent leisure facilities, most of which he only knew about through hearing others talking about them. Once in his own room, Wedge threw a spare towel over the workstation on his desk, hoping that out-of-sight would be out-of-mind. He stretched out on his bed, and realized that he had no idea what he was going to do with himself for the evening.

No doubt, he could find company in the bar, or the officer’s mess, but Wedge wasn’t really in the mood for crowds and noise. Perhaps he should go see if he could get a session in the gym ? He knew he’d feel better for it, but just lying on his bed, doing nothing, seemed more tempting at this moment. Wedge closed his eyes. Peace and quiet, and an early night. He’d have get something to eat at some point though. Perhaps just lie around for a while, visit the gym when the novelty of doing nothing had worn off a little, eat and then early-ish bed. Watch a holo or read for a while ? Wedge sighed contentedly. It was so good just to be dealing with such minor choices. Nothing that would affect anyone else’s life. Nothing that would still be important in the morning.

His peaceful meditations were interrupted by the buzz of his door signal. Wedge groaned, briefly considered ignoring it, then heaved himself reluctantly to his feet. The visitor was Tycho.

“Good. I’m glad you’re not still in your office,” Tycho said. He leaned against the door frame. “Got any plans for this evening ?”

Wedge looked at him suspiciously and shook his head.

“Better. I know what you need.” Tycho straightened and moved back, expecting Wedge to follow him.

Wedge stayed where he was. “I don’t want to go to the bar. I want peace and quiet.”

“That’s what I had in mind,” Tycho answered. “Something relaxing and soothing.”

Tycho seemed outwardly casual, but there was a brightness in his eyes, a sense of anticipation, he couldn’t quite hide from someone who knew him as well as Wedge. He had something definite planned, and would be disappointed if Wedge refused to go along. Wedge found himself mildly curious to know what Tycho had set up. Making up his mind, he followed Tycho into the corridor.

A few minutes later, they were in the leisure complex. Tycho passed the gyms and other exercise rooms, heading into an area Wedge hadn’t visited before. He looked around, more curious than before, and almost bumped into Tycho when he stopped outside a wooden door. Tycho glanced over his shoulder and grinned, sliding a keycard through the lock. He pushed the door open and led the way inside.

“Oh, wow !” Wedge exclaimed. “Luxury.”

Slatted wooden benches ran along one wall, thick towels folded neatly at one end. The rest of the room was tiled in blue and green, with small lights embedded in the ceiling. In the centre of the room was a hot tub, easily big enough for four people, the water bubbling gently.

“Like I said,” Tycho said with an air of triumph. “Something relaxing and soothing. Guaranteed privacy for a couple of hours.”

Wedge headed for the bench and began pulling off his boots. “Thanks, Tycho. I really appreciate this.”

Tycho sat down beside him. “Well, I arranged it for your benefit, but there’s plenty of room for two in there.”

“I guess Executive Officers need to relax too. Last one in’s a nerf-herder.”

A minute later, their clothes were abandoned on the bench, and both men were floating peacefully in the warm water. Wedge let himself drift, his mind and muscles relaxing.

“This Rebellion’s getting civilized,” Tycho remarked. “Remember what it was like on Hoth ?”

“We felt lucky if there was enough hot water for a shower,” Wedge replied. “Let alone a bath.” He drifted against one of the jets of water. It massaged his shoulders until the force of the water pushed him back towards the centre of the tub. “Whoever invented water deserves an award,” he remarked.

Tycho chuckled. “I’ll tell Mon Mothma. I’m sure she can arrange something.”

They floated quietly in the water, talking now and again. Wedge let his eyes close, and gradually found himself on the point of drifting to sleep. He wondered idly if he would continue to float if he fell asleep. No doubt he’d wake quickly enough if he did start to sink. It was pleasant to lie here, almost submerged, with the water lapping against his skin. He was completely unprepared when Tycho put both hands on his chest and pushed him under.

Wedge kicked and rolled, surfacing with a splutter. Tycho was standing chest-deep, laughing at him. Wedge swiped wet hair back out of his eyes and launched himself, knocking Tycho backwards. They went under together; Wedge pushed Tycho down and twisted away to come up for air. Tycho rolled and broke the surface three feet away.

“That’s insubordination, Lieutenant Celchu,” Wedge gasped, getting his feet on the bottom of the tub ready to attack again.

Tycho grinned at him, water dripping off the end of his nose. “So punish me, if you can.”

Wedge launched himself through the water again. They wrestled, laughing and gasping for air as they fought to duck one another. It was blissful, irresponsible fun, especially as they were so evenly matched. Until Tycho cheated, and tickled Wedge. Wedge was very ticklish; he sank, thrashing helplessly, and swallowed a large mouthful of water. Panic set in for a moment. He flailed about, forgetting that the water was only chest-deep. Hands grabbed him under his arms and lifted him up. As Wedge’s head cleared the water, one of his feet touched the bottom. The panic subsided as Tycho’s supportive hold helped him get his balance and stand firmly. Wedge coughed and looked at Tycho indignantly.

“You know how ticklish I am. Were you trying to drown me ?”

Tycho smiled. “Only so I could give you the kiss of life.” He shifted his grip, putting one hand on the back of Wedge’s neck, and pulled him in close for a kiss.

Wedge’s eyes widened, then closed in pleasure at the warm, demanding touch. He opened his mouth in return, feeling Tycho’s tongue brush against his own. Still breathless from being submerged, he had to break off.

“Did you have this planned out as well ?” he asked.

“A good officer tries to plan for every eventuality,” Tycho answered. “I thought that a good, hard fuck would take your mind off datawork for a while.”

The kiss, their closeness and Tycho’s words created a pleasant tingling in Wedge’s body. He felt acutely aware of Tycho’s hands on his back and his neck, the warm water that cocooned them, the nearness of Tycho’s naked body.

“Remember what I said about insubordination ?” Desire deepened his voice. “I think you need to be reminded just who’s in charge here.” He wrapped his arms around Tycho, pulling them together for another kiss.

Tycho relaxed back into the water, pulling Wedge with him so they floated together in a tangle of limbs. They kissed eagerly, legs bumping, hands paddling and roaming one another’s bodies. Wedge rolled half on top of Tycho, wet skin against wet skin. His heart was racing, the tension rising in his body, anticipating the pleasures ahead. Tycho was all but submerged, his water-darkened hair floating around his face. He gasped as Wedge licked and nuzzled at his nipples, teasing gently with his teeth.

Wedge slid his hand round to Tycho’s back, feeling the muscles ripple as Tycho trod water to keep them afloat. He moved his hand down Tycho’s body, cupping and caressing the firm buttocks. The soft sounds of pleasure that Tycho made were good, stirring the fast-building lust. Wedge changed position, kissing Tycho hard, thrusting his tongue into the other man’s mouth. Their heads submerged into the warm water, kissing until they were forced to come up for air.

Gently pushing Wedge backwards, Tycho manoeuvred so he was standing up in the water, between Wedge’s legs and holding his hips as Wedge floated on his back. Wedge watched as Tycho lowered his head, watching the open mouth descend towards his stiff penis. He moaned aloud as Tycho’s lips brushed against the end of his cock. Then he was in the warmth of Tycho’s mouth, Tycho’s tongue swirling around him and caressing him. The water caressed his body, supporting and yielding as his hips moved in response to Tycho’s rhythm. Wedge gasped for breath, lost in the sensations that swept his body.

Tycho let Wedge’s penis slip from his mouth and lifted his head.

“Is this the way you like me to serve you, Captain ?”

Wedge growled and twisted in the water, getting his feet against the bottom of the tub.

“You’re forgetting your place, Lieutenant. You serve under me.”

He seized Tycho, turned him and shoved towards the side of the tub. As Tycho grabbed the lip of the tub, Wedge pushed up hard behind him. He locked one arm around Tycho's waist, and reached down to grasp his penis with the other hand. Tycho was standing in the path of one of the water jets. Fast-flowing water caressed the tip of his penis as Wedge pumped him hard. Tycho moaned with pleasure, his body trembling under the assault.

“You said I needed a good, hard fuck,” Wedge hissed. “Well, you just volunteered to be that fuck-toy.”

“Yes, Wedge. Fuck me,” Tycho pleaded. His calm, aristocratic demeanour was gone as he pushed his arse against Wedge’s hard penis and begged to be taken.

With one swift motion, Wedge thrust himself deep inside Tycho’s arse. Tycho shuddered, his body bucking against Wedge’s. The tightness and heat felt incredible to Wedge. He kept hold of Tycho’s penis, letting the movement of his hips push Tycho back and forth through his hand. Water splashed between their bodies as Wedge’s thrusts got faster. The water resisted his movements, making him work harder as he got closer to orgasm. Tycho was clutching the edge of the tub, head tilted back, wordlessly pleading as Wedge ravished his body. He came suddenly, crying out as he twisted and thrashed, almost losing his footing. Wedge hung onto him, holding Tycho upright as he pumped harder and deeper. His orgasm built up, taking over his body until it finally exploded through him.

The frantic movements slowed. Wedge was holding onto Tycho to support himself now, gasping heavily. As he recovered, he pulled himself free and let himself float limply on his back. Tycho joined him, floating companionably close.

“If you’re not relaxed now, I’m a Hutt’s dancing girl,” he said.

Wedge grinned at the ceiling. “I think you’d look very fetching in a gold-trimmed bikini, with a chain round your neck.”

“Well, if that’s what you want for your lifeday present…”

Back in his quarters, Wedge smiled to himself at the thought of Tycho dressed as a slave girl. The bikini was difficult to take seriously, but the thought of Tycho naked but for a collar and chain was appealing. Tycho did have a weakness for being bullied and dominated and Wedge loved to see his executive officer lose his cool, self-possession and beg to be used. Wedge was mentally calculating how long it was till his next lifeday when the door buzzer sounded.

Wondering if Tycho had forgotten something, Wedge was surprised to find Plourr outside his door.

“Am I interrupting anything ?” she asked.

Wedge shook his head. “Come in.”

She sauntered into his quarters, a small bag hanging from one shoulder. Plourr seemed relaxed, moving with a casual grace as she sat down opposite him. Wedge was grateful for her good temper, as an irritable Plourr took a lot of coping with, and he didn’t want to lose the pleasant mood Tycho’s surprise had put him in.

“What can I do for you ?” he asked.

Plourr surprised him by smiling, a rare look of genuine warmth. “I noticed at lunch that you seemed stiff in your shoulders,” she said, putting her bag on the low table in front of her and unfastening it. “You’ve been spending too long at a desk, hunched over a workstation.”

Wedge made an agreeing noise, watching as she produced a couple of small brown bottles from the bag.

“I know how to deal with those knotted muscles,” Plourr told him. She stood up and swiftly moved to stand behind him. Strong hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing and relaxing. “A good massage will help.”

“Well…” Wedge said uncertainly. He had a vague feeling that being massaged by a soldier under his command probably contravened some rules he couldn’t quite remember right now.

Plourr’s thumbs dug into the muscles at the base of his neck, moving in small circles. Her hands were warm, even through the light shirt he wore. Wedge found himself submitting to the pleasure of having his neck and shoulders expertly kneaded. His eyes closed as he relaxed into her touch.

“That good ?” Plourr asked unnecessarily.

“Mmmmm.” Speaking coherently was suddenly too much effort for Wedge.

“Then let’s do this properly. Get your shirt off and lie on the bed.”

Wedge obeyed, stripping his shirt off so he was clad in no more than his undershorts, and lay face down on his bed. Plourr knelt beside him and poured a little oil from one of the bottles into her palms. Leaning over, she ran oil-slick hands up his back.

“Not quite as tense as I expected,” she remarked, moving the flat of her hands in circles on his shoulders and back. “Still needs some work though,” she added, prodding a knot beside his spine that made him twitch.

“Carry on then,” Wedge replied, his voice muffled against his bedcover.

As Plourr settled to her work, Wedge decided that he was going to widen the range of non-piloting skills he looked for in squadron members. Rogue Squadron needed more people who could ease knots in muscles the way Plourr did. Long stroking movements warmed and relaxed his back muscles, spreading a sense of well-being through him before she started the harder work, pressing with strong fingers. Wedge wondered how he could convince Admiral Ackbar to approve courses of massage therapy training for pilots. Perhaps he should get Plourr to demonstrate the benefits of her skills on the Mon Calamari.

Thinking became too much effort as Plourr continued. Wedge felt as though he were melting into his bed as her hands soothed and massaged. The oil she was using had a pleasant, slightly musky scent he liked. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift, only touch and scent keeping him in contact with the world. Plourr worked his back over thoroughly, then started on his arms. Wedge just lay limply as she stroked and kneaded every muscle from shoulder down to his fingers. Each finger in turn was gently pulled and rubbed, leaving a gentle tingle and complete and utter relaxation. When she’d done his arms, Plourr turned her attention to his legs.

She massaged them as thoroughly as she’d done his arms. Palms stroked and softened muscles before strong fingers did their work. Wedge’s only comment was a blissful sigh as she rubbed each foot in turn. The bed creaked as Plourr shifted, fabric rustling softly. Wedge didn’t bother to look at what she was doing; he was content to lie in a puddle of pampered contentment. A few moments later, her hands were on him again, sliding up his legs from calves to thighs. They rose higher, settling over his buttocks. Plourr’s hands felt comfortingly warm through the thin material of his shorts. She circled her palms, rubbing the silky fabric against his skin, then her fingers dug into the firm muscles.

Drowsy with contentment, Wedge only gradually became aware that Plourr’s touch was becoming more intimate. Her hands were inside his shorts now, caressing inner thigh and groin. His first thought was to assume a mistake on her part but that idea rapidly vanished. He didn’t know anything really about Plourr’s sexual experience, but he was certain that she wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t know she was touching a very sensitive area. And the nature of her touch had changed. She was no longer massaging firmly, but stroking him in a way that sent delicious thrills through his body. Wedge was grateful that he was lying on his stomach, with his stiffening penis hidden from view.

Before he could make up his mind what to do, Plourr spoke.

“These are starting to get in the way,” she remarked, withdrawing her hands from his shorts.

Wedge was still too relaxed from his massage to make any kind of protest before Plourr slipped her hands under his hips and started to tug the shorts down. The waistband snagged on Wedge’s semi-hard penis. She reached inside them, holding onto his penis with an oil-slippery hand while she pulled his shorts free with the other. Wedge gasped, and nearly bit his lip, as the jolt of sexual excitement hit him. Plourr had stripped his shorts off before he got his breath back. A moment later, she’d neatly rolled him onto his back and was sitting astride his thighs.

She’d stripped off her light vest and trousers, leaving herself in nothing more than a skimpy pair of panties. Her body was well-toned, but unashamedly female; a slender waist and curving hips; ripe, round breasts jutting proudly towards him. As Wedge stared at her breasts, Plourr slid her hands across his stomach to his groin. Wedge shuddered at the delicious touch.

“This isn’t usually part of the service,” Plourr said, skilfully manipulating him to full stiffness. “But I make exceptions for exceptional commanding officers.”

With that she shifted herself forward, leaning on her hands, and arched her taut body over his. His penis was pressing against her belly, and her breasts swung just over his face. Wedge accepted the invitation, pulling her lower so he could lick the pink nipples she offered. Plourr made a gentle sound of satisfaction as Wedge’s mouth teased her nipples erect. He moved his hands, rubbing one hard nub with his fingers while stimulating the other with teeth and tongue. Her skin was soft and smelt sweet, so mysteriously different to a man’s skin. As he switched from one breast to the other, Plourr began moving her hips against his.

Wedge thrust against her in response, rubbing his hard penis against her body. Plourr’s movements became harder, more demanding. Still working on her breasts, Wedge slid his right hand along her side, moving it across her belly as he reached lower. She lifted her hips away from him, allowing him to slide his hand between the legs that straddled his, and inside her panties. Her breathing changed, shorter, shallow breaths as he delicately brushed his fingers through her pubic hair and beyond. Plourr moaned aloud as he fingered her, an uninhibited cry of pleasure. Steady, moaning gasps told him when he’d found the sweet spot.

Plourr’s long, strong limbs trembled as her excitement increased. She lifted her breasts away from his face, and bent down to kiss him fiercely. In another swift move, she straightened up and pulled her panties off. Guiding his penis with her hand, she lowered herself onto him. Wedge held onto her hips as she settled herself. The warmth and slick wetness felt wonderful. He looked up at the magnificent woman straddling him, taking him wholly inside of herself. Her breasts stood out proudly, swaying as she moved. Plourr smiled, and contracted the muscles of her vagina. Wedge gasped at the exquisite sensation it caused to his penis. His fingers dug into her hips as he clung to her and started to thrust.

Plourr rocked her hips back and forwards, timing her moves to his. As they synchronised, Wedge reached one hand between her legs and found her clit. Plourr’s gasps became more urgent with the doubled stimulation. She ground herself more fiercely against him, demanding more as excitement tightened her body. Her raw, uninhibited passion drew more from him. She came with a great cry, throwing her head back, arms flailing as her orgasm shook her body. Wedge grabbed her hips and surrendered fully to his own need, thrusting up into her. Moments later he came too, his body bucking against the bed.

Afterwards, Wedge lay where he was in a kind of haze. He barely stirred as Plourr carefully detached herself from him and climbed off the bed. It was an effort, but a worthwhile one, to watch her getting dressed again. She seemed to have as much energy as when she’d arrived in his quarters, gathering her things and packing the bottles of scented oil back into her bag. When she was ready, she sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him with evident satisfaction.

“I think you’re going to sleep well tonight,” she remarked.

Wedge nodded lazily. “Thank you, Plourr, for … everything. It’s deeply appreciated.”

She gave him one of her rare, warm smiles. “It was a pleasure. Being in a position of power, of command, is harder than most people realise. It’s difficult to switch off and forget the responsibilities that come with privilege.” She bent over and kissed him lightly. “You’re a good officer, Wedge.”

He smiled at the compliment, knowing it was genuine.

Plourr stood up, sweeping her bag up to her shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” she called, and left his room at a brisk walk. Wedge didn’t feel like moving just yet. He pulled his bedcover over himself and curled up. He wondered about Plourr’s comments about command; he’d got the impression she was speaking from experience, but she’d never held an officer’s rank with the Rebellion. Wedge yawned and squinted at his bedside chrono. It wasn’t that late yet, but his evening so far had left him pleasantly weary. He closed his eyes and drifted into a light doze.

Half an hour later, Wedge woke again. A long, leisurely stretch was interrupted by a growl from his stomach, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten yet. He also needed to visit the bathroom. Wedge disentangled himself from his bedcover and went to deal with the most immediate problem. He had just finished in the bathroom when the door buzzer sounded for the third time that evening. Surely it wasn’t either Tycho or Plourr again ? Wedge began to wonder just how stressed he’d looked at lunchtime. As he grabbed a light robe, he tried to remember who else had been at the table. Tying the belt of the robe, Wedge nervously approached the door.

His visitor was Hobbie, his presence made welcome by the containers he was carrying.

“Food !” Wedge exclaimed eagerly. “Come in.”

“I didn’t see you in the canteen earlier,” Hobbie explained, putting containers and a bottle of green wine on the low table. “I thought maybe you’d got to working in here and forgot to go out and eat again.” He gave the towel-covered workstation a curious look.

“Um…I was sleeping.” Wedge became acutely aware of how rumpled his bed was. He fetched cutlery and glasses as Hobbie opened the food and drink.

The wine was nothing special, but Wedge savoured the food. Hobbie had got some of his favourites, including nerf chunks stir-fried in a spicy Corellian sauce. He ate all of that and had plenty of the other dishes, washing it all down with mouthfuls of the refreshing green wine. When he was full, he leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh.

“Thanks, Hobbie. I really needed that.”

Hobbie peered at the empty dishes. “I hope you don’t get indigestion,” he said dourly.

Wedge grinned at the characteristic remark. “Good food and drink,” he said, holding up his glass and letting light shine through the dark green liquid. “Two of the best ways of relaxing.”

Hobbie grunted. “If I’d known that was all you needed, I wouldn’t have had to find Cribbens to borrow his electro-pulsers.”

“His what ?”

Hobbie sighed, and brought something out of his pocket. They looked like broad, black cuffs, lined with soft leather and with some electronic gadgetry built in. Wedge took the one he was offered, and found it was heavier than he’d thought. He experimentally wrapped it around his left wrist, finding that it adjusted to fit comfortably.

“What’s it do ?” he asked, peering at the small controls.

“They send low-powered electro-magnetic pulses through your system,” Hobbie explained. “There’s a set of four, for wrists and ankles. You lie down, in the dark or with an eye mask on, wearing the pulse cuffs. The bio-sensors built in tune the cuffs to your body’s responses. They generate a field that matches your natural levels; it acts on the nervous system, and relaxes you.”

Wedge wasn’t entirely convinced that the science involved would stand up to scrutiny, but biology wasn’t his field, and the wine was starting to affect him. He was beginning to feel mildly and pleasantly muzzy-headed.

“You think it works ?” he asked.

Hobbie looked mournful. “I’m told it does, but I’ve not tried it myself. I thought maybe you could use some help relaxing.” He sighed. “I guess the food was enough.”

Wedge reached over and took hold of the other cuff.

“I don’t have to do anything myself, do I ?” he asked. “Just lie down and let the electro-magnetic whatsit do its stuff.”

Hobbie nodded. “They have to be adjusted properly, but once the system’s working, you don’t have to do anything. Just enjoy the experience.”

What with the hot tub, a massage, food, wine and two unexpected and satisfying fucks, Wedge was already about as relaxed as it was possible to get and still remain conscious. He felt pampered, mellow and just nicely drunk. However, Hobbie had been thoughtful enough to borrow these pulse-cuffs for his sake and it seemed a shame to turn them down, especially if using them didn’t even require any effort.

“Show me how to set these things up,” Wedge said. “I’ll give them a try.”

Hobbie’s dour face brightened. “Come on then,”

Wedge straightened his bedcover, then lay on his back as Hobbie directed him. He relaxed as Hobbie fixed a larger pair of cuffs around his ankles, letting Hobbie position his feet some distance apart.

“It works better if the muscles are under slight tension,” Hobbie explained.

Wedge just nodded. He felt faintly foolish as Hobbie fastened the last cuff around his right wrist, but his bed was comfortable and Hobbie seemed to be enjoying himself as he adjusted the wrist cuffs. Wedge wondered for a moment whether Janson had put Hobbie up to playing some kind of practical joke. No, not after the way he’ll snapped at Wes at lunchtime.

“Nearly ready,” Hobbie said. He placed a black eyemask on Wedge’s face.

The light mask of gel-filled soft material moulded itself to his skin, cutting off his sight completely. Wedge rolled his head slightly to one side but the mask stayed in place. He started slightly as Hobbie took hold of his wrists, then relaxed again as Hobbie raised his arms, moving them above his head and out to either side. Wedge felt a mild, pleasant stretch throughout his body as he lay almost speadeagled, as Hobbie had positioned him.

“You’re all ready now.” Hobbie voice came from somewhere close to his head.

Wedge felt a pressure against his wrist as Hobbie activated the cuffs.

The cuffs seemed to grow heavier but Wedge couldn’t feel anything else from them.

“Are they working ?” he asked.

“I’ll know in a moment.”

Hobbie’s voice came from somewhere close to Wedge’s left ear. As Wedge was still wondering what effect he was supposed to feel from the cuffs, he felt a quite different touch. A soft touch on the sensitive skin under his left ear. Lips delicately kissing his throat. Wedge squirmed under the touch, and was alarmed to find his arms and legs pinned in place. He tugged hard, but the cuffs held him down, leaving him vulnerable to the lips and tongue that teased his weak spots.

“Hobbie !”

“Mmmm ?” Hobbie’s warm breath brushed his skin. “Like I said, you just have to lie back and relax, Wedge.”

Hobbie’s mouth nuzzled under the corner of his jaw in a way that sent delightful tingles through Wedge’s body. Wedge swallowed.

“Hobbie. I…aaahh.”

Light kisses scattered across his throat took his breath away. With the blindfold on, every kiss was a surprise. Wedge was taken aback by how strongly his body responded to the seduction. After eating, all he’d wanted to do was fall asleep, but his heart was beating harder and his breathing was faster as his excitement grew. With the cuffs holding him down, he was vulnerable to whatever Hobbie wanted to do to him. He couldn’t even see what was about to happen. His skin tingled in anticipation of Hobbie’s touch. Hobbie’s mouth closed over his, his only point of contact with the galaxy. Wedge kissed hungrily, savouring the taste of the other man’s mouth, the feel of Hobbie’s tongue. Hands came down onto his chest, startling him. They slid inside his robe, over his nipples. Wedge wanted to respond, to touch Hobbie’s body in return, but he couldn’t.

Hobbie’s hands moved lower, unfastening the sash of Wedge’s robe, and opening the robe up. Wedge felt as though he was being displayed for the other man’s pleasure; an erotic toy to be roused and played with. The sensation was incredibly exciting. He could hear a faint rustling of fabric, which he guessed to be Hobbie removing some or all of his own clothes. Then the hands touched him again, sliding from his chest to his belly. Wedge moaned with pleasure as Hobbie continued to tease him with touches and kisses. A kiss on his belly, a hand running up the inside of his thigh, tongue-tip flicking against a nipple. He could never see them coming, never anticipate; just shudder with increasing delight each time.

A pause gave him the chance to recover his breath a little. Wedge felt Hobbie do something to one of the ankle cuffs, then his legs were pushed further apart.

“Adjustable repulsor fields,” Hobbie remarked.

The end of the bed shifted as Hobbie climbed on and Wedge felt bare skin against his legs. He started at the touch of a hand against his thigh, sliding up to his exposed crotch. Wedge couldn’t change position, couldn’t do anything as Hobbie fondled his penis, then gently probed his rectum. There was the cool, slick touch of lube, then something slid inside him. He heard a soft click, then it began vibrating.

Wedge cried out in surprise, his body writhing with the new sensations. He was so overwhelmed, he didn’t know that Hobbie had moved until he felt Hobbie’s lips on his. He kissed desperately, wanting the sensations in his mouth as strong as those inside his ass. Hobbie pressed his head back against the pillow, his tongue filling Wedge’s mouth. Wedge felt as though he were being fucked from both ends at once. He was starting to lose control, his hips thrusting upwards as much as the cuffs would allow.

Hobbie broke off the kiss at last. Wedge felt the bed shift beneath him, felt hands on his groin, and whimpered as the vibrator was switched off. It slid out of his body, and moments later, Hobbie’s cock was in its place. He sighed with satisfaction, body arching in response. Hobbie’s weight pressed him onto the bed, further restricting his movements. Hobbie took him, filling him deeply with every thrust. Wedge’s pinned body shivered, muscles pulling against the restraints. The inner sensations rapidly spiralled out of control, sweeping him towards a delirium of ecstasy. When he finally came, the orgasm seemed to tear through his body from head to feet.

Wedge came back to reality slowly, becoming aware of Hobbie’s own frantic gasps. He shuddered as Hobbie came inside him, his body yielding to the hard thrusts. The urgency died away, leaving them spent. Wedge lay quietly, Hobbie’s body warm against his. When his breathing had slowed to normal, Hobbie moved, stretching up to reach Wedge’s wrist. A moment later the energy fields holding him in place were gone. Wedge tried to move his arm and groaned. Hobbie helped him, bringing his arms slowly down into a more comfortable position, and rubbing the tired muscles. The mask was lifted from his face, and Wedge blinked at the sudden light.

“Are you all right ?” Hobbie wore a look of mournful concern.

“Uh…yeah.” Life was starting to return to Wedge’s limbs. In spite of the discomfort, he felt light-headedly wonderful. And thoroughly, thoroughly limp.

Rolling onto his side, he snuggled close to Hobbie, who responded by wrapping his arms around him. Wedge sighed, relishing the feeling of security. A couple of minutes passed in contented silence before he spoke.

“Ingenious bit of design, those cuffs. Where did you get them ?”

“Why ? Do you want a set for your next lifeday present ?” Hobbie asked.

Wedge chuckled, and kept his face buried against Hobbie’s shoulder. “Maybe.” He yawned suddenly.

When the yawn was done, Hobbie kissed him on the cheek and disentangled himself.

“This is your night off. I’ll tidy up a bit and leave you to sleep,” he said.

He fetched tissues and cleaned them both up before removing the cuffs and getting dressed again. Wedge rolled himself up in his crumpled bedcover, making a mental note to send it to the laundry in the morning. He watched sleepily as Hobbie cleared away the remains of the food and finished the last of the wine in a couple of swallows. When everything was done, Hobbie came back over to the bed. Wedge smiled up at him.

“Thank you, Hobbs. If there was a medal awarded for improving the morale of stressed officers, I’d put you up for it.”

Hobbie’s anxious expression lifted. “Sometimes, Wedge, you need someone to mutiny and take the burden of command from you.” He smiled and made a mock salute. “Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

Wedge yawned again as Hobbie left. He really wanted nothing more than to bury himself under his bedclothes and fall asleep. Bathroom first though; and probably a good idea to straighten up his bed. And drink some water, too. Reluctantly, he eased himself off his bed and stood up. He pulled the robe around himself and tied it. Wedge had taken barely two steps towards the bathroom before the door buzzer sounded again. He froze, his imagination flashing through half-a-dozen possibilities. He was strongly tempted just to dive back onto his bed and stuff his head under the pillow until whoever it was went away. There was always the possibility though that his visitor was someone who wanted to see him in an official capacity.

Slowly, Wedge approached his door. He pushed hair away from his eyes, belatedly realizing just how mussed-up his hair was. Bracing himself, he opened the door a little way. Wes Janson stood outside, holding a holodisk with a lurid picture on the cover. As the door opened, his face lit up with a roguish smile.

“Wedge ! I know it’s getting a little late, but I thought you might like to take a break and watch something.” He held the disk up.

“No.” Wedge said abruptly. “I mean, thanks, but no. Not tonight, Wes. Definitely not tonight.” He closed the door in Janson’s face.

Inside, Wedge did a quick mental count. Wes was the last of those he’d seen at lunch today, the last of those he’d told of his stress. Unless they’d spread the word to the rest of the squadron, he should be left in peace now to sleep. Wedge yawned. All he needed now was sleep. His pilots had made sure of that.

Outside, in the corridor, Janson scratched his head and walked away. He’d thought Wedge might not be in the mood to watch a holo, but he hadn’t expected to be snapped at like that. He recalled Wedge’s state of undress and his mussed hair, and his imagination ran wild for a moment. Had Wedge been irritable because Wes had interrupted him in the middle of…? Janson shook his head and smiled to himself. Wedge was just irritable because he’d been that way all day. The man really needed to find some way of relaxing.

By the time Janson had reached his own quarters, Wedge was curled up in a rather rumpled bed, fast asleep.

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