Fictober ’21 – Kalluzeb
Prompt: #16, “Not this again”
Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels
Characters: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios
Notes: Suggestive language; Hints of Dom/Sub
“Moth—” Kallus stared at the ceiling while he waited to get a word in edgewise, asking himself and any deities listening just why it was he ever answered any of his mother’s comms. “Mother, this really isn't—”
“The right time,” she finished for him. “Don't I know it. What, are you too important now take a comm from your mother every once in a while? Special agent man? Is your whole life classified?” Kallus rolled his eyes, then examined his nails as she continued, “Whatever happened to that nice boy you were dating? The fighter pilot. He was very handsome and so polite.”
Kallus glanced at the bo-rifle propped in the corner and gave serious thought to using it. “Mother, that was over a decade ago.”
“So?” she said. “Romance can be rekindled. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, as they say.”
“Well, he's married now and not to me, so I would say he proved himself an exception.”
Just as his mother managed to prove herself the exception every time they spoke.
“And what about the tall one? With the—”
“Dead,” Kallus said through a sigh. “Look, we have already had a hundred different versions of this same conversation a thousand times. My work for the Empire is—”
“Not going to give me grandchildren, that’s for damn sure.”
Kallus didn’t quite have a response to that.
Which was fine. His mother did: “You're not getting any younger.”
“Neither are you, thank the stars above,” Kallus muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Is there no man in your life? I worry for you, all alone on the Outer Rim on that Lowball—”
“—no culture, no company worthy of the name”—before she could even begin the phrase, Kallus began mouthing it for her—“no prospects.”
“You will be thrilled to learn there is one man in my life,” he assured her. “He ruins all my clothes, comes and goes unannounced at all hours of the night, and leaves a mess of fur in my bed but I find I'm rather attached to him. Even when he starts yowling because he's hungry for food or affection.”
There was half a minute of blessed silence. “This is your way of telling me you got a tooka?” his mother deadpanned. “This is your way of telling me that a tooka is the closest I'll ever get to a grandchild?” (a scoff) “You can be so callous.”
“Good one, mother. Listen, I have to go. Rebel emergency. I'll comm you if and when you have grandchildren on the way.”
Kallus ended the comm call with a dramatic groan and glanced over at Zeb who was in his bed, wearing (and stretching out beyond repair) the Royal Imperial t-shirt and shorts he'd borrowed without asking, and steadily eating through his supply of meal bars.
“Your mother sounds like a piece of work,” Zeb observed, crumpling the flimsi-foil wrapper in his large hands and tossing it onto the nightstand.
Kallus leveled Zeb with a seriously? expression. “That’s not where that goes,” he said.
“I’m not a tooka,” Zeb said with a scowl. “And Lasat don’t much appreciate the comparison.”
“I never said anything about tookas,” Kallus pointed out neatly. “That was my mother.”
“Your mother’s a fucking bigot.”
“This is true, yes.”
“I’m not an animal.”
“No?” Kallus asked with mock-innocence, kneeing onto the bed between Zeb’s spread thighs. “Because you certainly sound like something in heat when you’re starved for some ISB dick.”
“I may like your dick,” Zeb said with a growl. “But that’s about it.”
Kallus chuckled under his breath as he leaned forward to nip Zeb’s ear. “So you keep telling me.”
“I don’t shed,” Zeb muttered, trying his best to sound indignant with Kallus rubbing his nose along the edge of his ear.
“You absolutely do.”
“Say I don’t shed.”
Kallus gripped Zeb’s throat in hand and asked in a low voice, “Since when are you the one who gives orders in this bed?”
Zeb averted his eyes as best he could and didn’t reply beyond a hungry rumble, faint against Kallus’s hand.
“You’re not an animal, Zeb,” Kallus said. “But you are mine.” He smirked in satisfaction as Zeb closed his eyes, relaxing into the grip on his neck. “Now… be a good rebel and get on your knees.”