the good god is you, all good, all the time, is you | paz x reader
A/N: just something short and simple and kind with paz, because i want to kiss him all over (because i’m his riduur, of course) and is there anything wrong with that?
even though it’s a relatively universal phrase, the title is a line from god is good all the time by porsha olayiwola. i also kinda had the vibe of that poem in mind as i wrote this too. 💕
hope you enjoy! 💗
summary: love-making, pretty much.
content: fluff, domestic love and stuff, fem!afab!reader, smut-ish?, because there is cockwarming on the back burner lol, and they kinda seggs at the end?, body worship, paz is a heartsick dork, and plays with your booba, and you play with his
word count: 1,427
It’s in the dewy moments after, when everything feels the way a sunset on Naboo looks, when there’s nothing in the galaxy that can touch either of you. Paz holds you tight with his burly arms, helmetless, and everywhere else exposed too, slick with the sweat that coats the both of you, and keeps you slippery and bare against one another, like fishes in the big blue sea.
There’s no need to open your eyes, not right now. The heaviness that’s settled over you keeps your eyelids shut, and the wetness on your lashes does too. So you focus on Paz, who’s silent and basking in the afterglow the same as you, and focus just enough to listen to the steady, echoing thumps of his heart, and his long, rhythmic breathing. In, out. In, out...
You revel in the expanse of his body beneath you, his broad shoulders, his hard pecs, the light brushing of hair on them, his soft tummy you love— all strength, all the time— and sigh into the soft dip behind his collarbone. Make no mistake, you revel in that too, and the warmth of it all.
Another soft sigh passes your lips when Paz shifts beneath you, his legs further entwining with yours, all to pull you in and keep your hips flush to his, and him within you. He’s not a hard, hot rod anymore, finally spent after three rounds, but the girth of him is familiar, kept locked within you, the puzzle piece meant to be. The feeling of the connection, almost divine in it’s interlocking, is like an oasis in a vast desert, all relief and sanctuary.
Paz grunts softly, moving again, and you smile when you feel him both shift inside you and plant kisses on your scalp. His lips are warm and soft as they follow your hairline, each one everything good. You feel the tender brush of the tip of his nose too, and catch a warm inhale or exhale in your hair, like a gentle breeze in summer.
“You asleep, mesh’la?” Paz’s voice is low, resonant in his chest and throat like the echo of a distant waterfall. The hands he has on your body, heavy and calloused weights, start to glide up and down your spine. You make a small noise of denial, digging your face into his chest, kissing him softly as you do. Paz shudders, his chest trembling beneath you, and so you kiss him more, with more determination too. Take this Paz, it is yours.
A few seconds pass, and you finally bring yourself to open your eyes, blinking at the quiet brightness of the room and exhaustion, but finding so much awareness with the man under you. Your eyes lock to your hand, taking in the beskar ring on your finger, and Paz’s pec beneath it. The crests of his deep brown skin are bronzed by the dim orange lights of the bedroom, and the dips are the darkest parts of him. Your eyes flit to his nipple that’s below your fingers, and you smile mischievously against his chest.
“Hey.” Paz jerks slightly when you pinch it, and lifts one hand to plant firm on your ass and squeeze hard in retaliation. You jerk in turn, the laugh in your throat briefly caught by the pleasantness of Paz moving in you, and you turn your head to look up at him, eyes twinkling.
Paz has just the most mellow, lovestruck look on his face and in his nut brown eyes, all his features softened by the endorphins from sex and love. In this light, all starry-eyed, all satisfaction and boyishness under an amber hue, he looks especially rich, like the opulence of gold and the taste of good, thick caf. He is gorgeous.
“What?” You croak playfully, voice a bit raw and still a little husky, craning your neck to kiss his chin, his thick beard prickly against your lips. Paz chuckles deep in his throat, one hand gliding the length of your spine. He dips his head so that he’s able to press his lips to yours, tender and brief, easy too. Everything is just so easy with Paz, all the time.
“I like your boobies.” You murmur when you part, grinning when he laughs, a quick bark that’s louder since you’re so close to his face. Paz’s hands slide up your ribs until they cup your breasts from the sides. He squeezes gently and you laugh, slapping him on his shoulder, and his sweaty skin is slightly tacky, like a honey glaze.
“Don't tweak my nipple, pretty girl.” He says in that toothless authoritative tone he puts on with you when he won’t really put up a fight. You giggle, the tip of your nose rubbing against his, and you kiss his smiling lips again. He hums, low in his chest, a purr of a humble lion.
"You like it, though." You tease, squealing when Paz swats your ass, and giggling profusely as you kiss his cheek. Pulling away, eyes soft like his, you place your lips to his for a slow, languid kiss. Paz moans into your mouth, allowing you to drink from him all his love. When you pull away you breathe him, and he breathes you, and the moment becomes warmer.
“I think yours are better.” He rumbles, bouncing them in his palms, thumbing your pliant nipples to roll them until they become stiff peaks again. You keep giggling profusely, even as you wriggle in his grasp to arch up just enough to plant kisses over and over again atop the skin and muscle above his heart, beating as strong as the beskar he wears.
“Mesh’la.” Paz speaks, breathless and maybe desperate too, but you keep kissing, because he is yours, you are his, and you love him. He groans quietly, hips shifting and you break your trail across his chest to sigh as you feel him sink deeper, a heavy anchor nestled tenderly inside you. Paz still has his hands on your chest, and he kneads your breasts, slowly rolls them in his large palms the way he does to get your body warm and quivering.
“Paz... honey...” You whine, feeling how he swells inside you, like filling a pitcher with water, or how the temperature grows as the sun rises. Your body is glossy and glistens with sweat, beads of it line your hairline, and as Paz moves again, sitting up and pulling you in to the furnace of his body, you gasp at the heat of it all.
“One more time, baby girl, just one more time.” Paz’s lips fervently move on your neck, sucking marks atop fading ones and new ones on clear skin. His body rocks against yours, the sweat built up between the two of you making each movement wet, sticky. Paz sucks on your collarbone then nuzzles his face into your chest, kisses sternum, and pleads, “Let me cum in you one more time.”
One more time...
“Okay.” You breathe into his hair, the tight black coils tickling your nose. He smells like pine trees, the lavender and birch shampoo you use, sex, and the scent of man, the distinct Paz variety. You could get drunk off it, and the tight bubbling building up in your lower tummy.
His hips shift, going low then high, and he repeats it— once, twice, three times— your body jostles in his arms, rocked to and from his heaving chest, like a ship caressed by the kind waves of a gentle sea.
Four, five, six— you lose count, lost in the swirling ocean that is love and Paz.
Dark brown hands grip your hips, and you place yours above them, because you know you aren’t going to last much longer. He isn’t either, evident by his trembling breath.
“Paz!” The final gasp of his name comes with the rolling tide of orgasm, the fever pitch breaks to something resembling pure, and Paz is swept away with you, whispering your name to your heart. Both of you are breathing heavily, trembling and shuddery from your releases. You smile at the liquid warmth deep within you, and kiss Paz’s slick forehead. He looks up at you from between your breasts, still starry-eyed and now even more satisfied, tender.
“... Your boobs are still better.” He quips and you laugh, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It really is in the dewy moments after, when there’s nothing but laughter, when nothing in the galaxy can touch either of you, not ever.