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Boba Fett’s mouth is obscene.
That can mean so many things, but little gods, the bastard manages to be all of them.
The way he curses, like only one who spent so long at the top of Jabba’s court can.
The way those plush lips snag and hold your attention, now he removes the helmet so often and runs his thumb along the corner while he thinks…
And the things he can do with that mouth, the downright religious experience when he goes down on you — his tongue firm and relentless, his lips needy as they caress and pull and suck at you, his whole mouth consuming as he feasts on you like a man starved.
But right now, right now all you can think about is the absolute filth spilling from those lips as he fucks you.
“So needy, mesh’la, so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”
He’s making you bounce on his lap, his hands on your hips to set the pace but leaving all the work to you.
“Listen to your sopping little pussy; what a mess I’ve made of you, little one.”
Your legs are quaking, struggling to move as fast as you want them to, fast enough to bring you to your peak. But every word he says makes it harder, makes you want to give in and collapse over him, beg him to flip you over and rail you.
It’s so rare both of you are in the mood for you to ride him, you refuse to give it up half-way just because Boba won’t shut up.
His filthy, beautiful mouth pulls into an infuriating grin, and you realize you’ve slowed almost to a stop.
“Mm, is my cyar’ika tired? You need some help there? Just ask nicely, cyar’ika, c’mon.”
You huff and rock yourself on his shaft, clenching around it pointedly. Boba chuckles and pulls you down until your breasts hang close enough he can get his mouth on one of them, sucking and nibbling at it almost lazily.
You lean into it and hum your pleasure, just enjoying for a moment, but the sight gives you an idea.
He lets you lean back with a grumble, before he sees the new glint in your eye and pauses.
You drift one hand up towards his face, detouring and lightly caressing his skin all the way up, until you trace along the corner of his mouth. He looks curious now.
Good.
“I love your mouth you know,” you say, gently tugging at his lower lip, “the filthy things you say to me, but sometimes…”
His lips part just slightly as two fingertips press to the seam. From the laughter in his eyes, you can tell he knows what you’re doing, but he goes with it. His lips open more and his tongue flashes out over the pads of your fingers.
“I just want to give it something better to do.”
You slide both fingers into his mouth, and his teeth scrape over your skin like a warning — remember who’s in charge. You grin and slide them in to the last knuckle. Boba gives them a slow but strong suck, eyes still fixed on yours.
Your pussy clenches around him.
His smirk is still far too smug stretched around your fingers.
You lift yourself up on much steadier legs and drop yourself back on his cock hard, just to feel him groan around you. It’s addicting, like the buzz of holding a vibrator but warm and wet, and so much better because during sex Boba talks but he’s otherwise mostly quiet and to feel the noise escape his control is heady, sends a flush of heat through you.
As you pick up the pace again, Boba rises to the challenge. His tongue winds around your fingers, laves over the spots that make you twitch, slides slick between and curls like when he eats you out. His head begins to bob back and forth with his suction, enough for you watch how his tongue works you.
All along he’s holding your gaze, still teasing even silenced.
Show-off.
The next time your hips meet, you pause to roll yourself in small circles against him for a few long seconds. It puts heavenly pressure on your clit for one perfect moment at the top of each circle, and you moan loudly. His length twitches inside you, and you immediately lift to begin riding him again.
His hands on your hips clamp down hard before he huffs around your fingers and relaxes his grip. Instead he turns his attention to teasing your fingers, alternating soft suction and sharp nips and languid caresses of his tongue.
You screw up your face in a comically stubborn scowl just to make his eyes squint with laughter, and then you start riding him with intent, fast and hard and a little mean. At the bottom of every few thrusts, you stop and circle your hips again.
It’s working for you, stars it’s working for you, you’re throbbing and the tension in your core is almost unbearable, but more importantly, it’s working Boba up something fierce. He’s flushed, his dark eyes molten hot, and he’s snapping his hips up to meet yours. And his mouth, that sinful mouth, is almost slack around your fingers, his tongue just softly undulating against you, occasionally sliding between, like he’s mostly forgotten his teasing.
He’s close.
You know he’s close, and so are you; you could easily finish you both off now and it would be good, so good.
But.
But Boba’s mouth around your fingers is even better than you could’ve expected, just the sight alone is fucking stunning, and it usually takes more to get him this worked up, and… and you love the way he edges you sometimes, how it makes your orgasm hit you like a speeder and you wanna see him that wrecked with his lips wrapped around your fingers.
Your hips stutter to a slow halt.
You settle fully seated on Boba’s cock and clench your cunt around him and just stay there.
It only takes a couple beats for Boba to catch on, and when the confusion clears his eyes are blazing.
There’s a hum under your fingers, undoubtedly the start of a chiding, but it quickly turns to a growl.
You shiver and slowly lift yourself almost all the way off him on trembling thighs. As you lower yourself again, inch by aching inch, you uncurl the fingers outside his mouth and gently wrap them along his jaw.
You pull your soaked fingers back just a bit and slide them back in, slow as you’re sliding down on his cock, and this time, the hard scrape of his teeth is a threat.
Your laugh is breathy and ecstatic and reckless, and you press a kiss to the side of his mouth, right alongside your fingers.
“Worth it, oh cyare, look so good, so good for me, fuck.”
His startled inhale and hurriedly choked off moan knock the breath out of you, and you move your free hand to his chest.
You start the next relentlessly slow drag up his cock, your muscles quivering around him, petting soothingly over his pecs and bracing yourself on his sternum.
“Always so good to me,” you whisper, “letting me have this, letting me see you like this.”
His hips jerk up and you drag your hand down from his chest to his stomach, pressing him back down.
Boba’s jaw goes lax as he pants, hot breath ghosting over your fingers, and he forces his hips still.
You reward him by dropping yourself back onto his cock without further teasing.
His moan is loud, not held back at all, and you can’t keep teasing.
Your legs begin to shake again as you bounce yourself up and down his cock as fast as you can manage. Boba groans again, but his mouth stays loose and open and his tongue is pliant as you slide your fingers over it. Drool begins to drip down your wrist and his chin, and it spurs you on faster.
“Fuck, Boba, love, you’re as wet for me as I am for you,” you rasp out.
He bucks beneath you with a garbled moan, and you don’t want to make either of you wait any longer.
“Use my hips, baby, been so good, take what you need now.”
Boba’s grip on your hips goes so tight it’s gonna leave spectacular bruises, but right now the pain is only an extra spark of sensation. His strong arms have never looked bigger as he lifts your whole weight and slams you down on his cock over and over.
It doesn’t take long before Boba’s cumming, pulsing warmth inside you as he groans out a long release. He keeps grinding up into you after, so you rock your hips in those tight circles that so undid him.
As he comes down, you finally pull your hand from his mouth — soaked to the wrist, you realize with a shiver. You lower those two fingers, still extra warm and so slick, to your clit. The slide around where Boba’s cock is still firm inside your cunt is wicked, so good it sends jolts directly up your spine, and you can feel every muscle in your core drawing tight. You curl forward over Boba, fingers swiping desperately over your clit, soft whines tearing out of you.
Boba’s large callused hands run up and down your thighs, and you lift your head to look at him. Even without his curls to muss anymore, he looks wrecked, just like you wanted. His eyes are half-lidded and only just coming back into focus, and his skin is so flushed, with a sheen of sweat. He’s still panting, and his chin is shining all over with his own drool.
“Come on, mesh’la, you’re not done making a mess of me, come on my cock now,” he orders, voice ragged.
His thumb slides under your fingers, pressing hard on your clit, and the tension snaps.
A shriek catches in your throat and erupts in halting pieces as you soak Boba’s cock, and your hips jerk and stutter a few more times before you collapse over him, struggling to catch your breath.
Eventually Boba drags a hand over his chin and wipes the saliva on the already ruined sheet, and goes to pull his softening cock out of you. You whine and weakly press your still-trembling thighs to his in protest. Boba huffs, amused and a little smug, and settles still inside you, instead shifting you to more comfortably lay on his chest and running a hand over your shoulder and down your arm. You press a kiss to the center of his chest before letting your head fall back down.
“I should make you pay for that, little one, but stars if it wasn’t good.”
“Make me anyway,” you breathe, “so worth it.”
Boba’s soft laughter jostles you, and you sloppily reach up to slap at his further pec. His chuckles are more quiet and rumbling, and you hum contentedly as you drift off.
Two days later, Boba summons you to the empty throne room. As you straddle his lap, you feel his ven’cabur missing and shoot him a teasing grin.
Boba just pulls your hand up to his mouth and nips at your fingertips.