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Matched	By : HarrisHawk Category: Star Wars (All) > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 1342 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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On the same night, in the same city; a similar travesty occurred with the same twisted precision and same method to an incurable madness.

“Trans-Atlantic pilot. That’s…. Wow, that’s incredible.” Yes, he was hooked. The olive skinned stunner across the table worked the charms that always got him what he wanted and while you reacted the way he desired, you were more intelligent than that. A subtle tilt back of the head, a slow blink, a coy smile and a heightening of those breath-taking eyes that had captivated him (and not just him) enough to swipe right. Poe might have been so cocky to think he had you but you had him. The flirtation had increased gradually on both sides but the eye-fucking had started from the moment you recognized him in the pub and sat down. “That takes intellect, dedication.” Your chin slotted into the snug crevice of your palm to gaze across the table at the perfect specimen and Poe responded with an involuntary puff of his chest and a roll of his shoulders; how often did he have a woman to the point of swooning? He was clearly used to it.

“It’s not every night I get to sit across from a university lecturer, a doctor.” The proud American twang probably would have sent an excited shudder through anyone else and while you felt it too, it was different and far more sinister. He watched you with hunger lurking behind those magnificent brown eyes and though your features were significantly softer, your intentions were much darker. His flattery continued when the desired reactions were extracted and so you kept feeding it, giving him what he wanted and luring him further and further beyond the point of no return. “A woman so striking and intelligent that I’m feeling a little stupid over here!”

“Oh stop!” Your laughter tinkled and caused a fresh look of wanting and intrigue to seep into those chiselled features. Temporary curls bounced with the coquettish flick and the seemingly innocent crossing of your legs was perhaps not so innocent when your foot accidentally brushed his leg and paused there just long enough to be suggestive. “You don’t pilot jets with hundreds of lives entrusted to you by flunking and procrastinating! I think you have more brains than you’re letting on!” Pumping his ego is one way to drop his guard and by the way his hand lingered dangerously close to yours instead of his pint was a strong indication that your attempts to play the giggly, silly, hair-tossing bimbo were working. False sense of security? Tick that box.

“So umm…..” Poe’s voice had dropped despite the din of the bar around you though it made little difference as he had leaned in closer across the small table meant for two; naturally, you met him halfway. “I was thinking of maybe…. Not getting another drink after this one?” To emphasize the point, he’d lifted his almost empty glass barely an inch or so and gave it a little shake from side to side. Perhaps you played the part a little too well if he felt the need to add actions to his proposal so you would understand rather than him openly explaining it for neighbouring tables to hear. You waited for a second, letting him think it was sinking in while you returned that intense stare and continuing the dumb façade.

“Ohhh….!” The ‘realization’ was paired with a ditzy smile and a readying wiggle of your shoulders. Relieved and pleased that he didn’t have to explain it, he smirked along with you and waited. “Okay, yeah. Drink up then.”

“Well, your place or mine? I have a hotel room a short-“

“Mine.” You declare maybe a little too sharply but just enough to let him think you want it. Hand still lingering on the glass, the intensity is shared between the two of you but he doesn’t protest. “You said you wanted to try new things? I have things at home we can try. And…. It’s soundproof.” If that didn’t rouse his interest, nothing would. There had to be a story there; what had happened to say you had soundproofed your home? Was it such a regular occurrence that you could justify the expense and the trouble to do so? Poor Poe, he wouldn’t discover the real reason until it was too late. “It’s only a few minutes away, we don’t need a taxi. Finish your drink.”

True to your word, a taxi was not required but wasn’t it more fun to stumble down the street on the arm of a handsome pilot, stopping for the occasional exchange of saliva and high on anticipation, knowing what you were going to do to him? The journey should have taken maybe five or seven minutes but ended up taking approximately twenty since you and your prey took every opportunity to pin each other to any solid object (a lamppost, a fence, a wall, a telephone box) for yet another lewd embrace. Eventually and joined at the face once more, you and Poe fell through the door of your apartment though neither of you would remember closing it. The contact evolved from wanting touches to the blind, urgent tugging of clothes but more precision would be required than just tugging; the reason both of you were still in a frustrating state of dress.

“I got curious.” Poe admitted in a pant while he tried to look less frenzied in his stripping. Already poised on the bed in your Ann Summer’s best, you tilted your head a little in a silent invitation for him to continue. “When we matched, got talking.” His trousers had disappeared, flung somewhere without a second thought and it seemed talking and unbuttoning his shirt at the same time was too much for the foreigner. “I googled you. Found you on Youtube giving a lecture. Something about medieval torture methods.” You felt a smirk twitch at the corner of your lip but fought to control it, simply let your eyes scan the trail of hair; the end of which was covered by his last remaining garment: his boxers. “I watched it.” Significantly more collected now, Poe approached the side of the bed as your eyes heightened to his enlarging form. ”I watched you talk. Didn’t really listen, just watched. Watched your mouth.” Your chin was gripped gently but importunately and your head tilted back to meet his gaze. “And I found myself wondering….. What else can she do with that mouth?” Instead of restraining the smirk this time, you opted to let it spread like plague. Rolling from your side to your knees, you lifted your pure gaze to him once more while fingering the elastic of the boxers; a simple method of teasing.

“I suppose…..” Biting your lip and peeling back the material ever so briefly to take a swift peek; it was clear to see why he walked with such incurable swagger. “There’s really only one way to find out, isn’t there?” There was little more than a chuckle in response as he gathered your hair and draped it over one shoulder and held it there but for more than one purpose. Not just in consideration of keeping your hair out of your face but also the more selfish condition of being able to control your head. Already, liquids were beginning to gather as evidenced by the moist dot at the front of the boxers that you still toyed with but also starting to lubricate your own folds as prediction started to become reality. When you finally shimmied down the material; his cock sprang free of its confines and bounced almost in celebration with a little bead of pre-cum oozing as thanks, like a gift for liberation. “Oh hello.” You greeted sweetly as you leaned in to kiss away the little pearl in front of your face; much to Poe’s amusement.

Rather than wasting time with idle chit chat that the organ could not reciprocate, you craned your neck and dipped low to scrape your tongue from the very bottom at the seam of his testicles to the tip where more pre-cum had bubbled specially for you. The long, deep “Oooohhhhhhh….” Was certainly a good start and an even better incentive to keep going; as was the almost pained hiss as your tongue slithered directly to the opening at the tip. You took him gradually, despite the insistent fisting into your hair with frail attempts to push you beyond comfort but those appeared to have taken a back seat to the current pleasure for the moment. But why would you leave him starved? Hadn’t you invited him home with the intention of fulfilment and satisfaction? Maybe not just for him but also some of your ominous needs. So, with little persuasion, your head started to move with the help of lazy propels of his hips to meet your mouth and your fingernails marking their territory on his buttocks.

To look up and see those dark waves bouncing ever so slightly from the sways of his pelvis, his knees almost buckle under the strain of ecstasy and lids hooding spirited eyes while you worked your oral magic brought a flutter of pride to your chest. Two sets of groans (one more muffled than the other), the wet squelch of your unashamedly open mouth taking to its task and the occasional choking grunt elicited by every millimetre he crawled closer to the back of your throat; those were the only sounds to grace the bedroom air….. For now. Your speed increased and you fought your way through your discomfort to swallow as much of the well-travelled cock that your gag-reflex would allow (which seemed to be plenty) until his thrusts became more powerful and driven by pure hedonism.

You had become more than adept at reading the male orgasm and while it might have taken years to perfect, it was now an exceptionally useful tool. Before he could spill his load in an utterly selfish way, you withdrew to an involuntary snarl of protest. Slipping from the bed to the other side from where Poe still stood, you began to remove the (exorbitantly priced) bra and panties set, aware all the while that you were being watched. He didn’t require much encouragement to clamber onto the bed when his only indication was a wordless point though he continued to watch, fascinated as you prowled the room like your hidden predator to gather what you needed. He wanted new? You’d give him new.

The handcuffs didn’t seem to excite him all that much but you explained in a minacious purr that the cuffs were only a restraint for what you were going to do. And you promised him it would be new; so new, in fact, that he would never experience it again. Poe failed to see the newness when you sank down onto his throbbing shaft but writhed in enjoyment regardless. As before, you took it slowly and you took it moderately with your hands propping you up against his chest and nails resuming their digging while you rode him. He strained against the cuffs, eager to touch and your smirk only grew with each attempt the pilot made against the spirals on either side of the headboard and his frustration when he failed.

Perhaps you were being too taunting, too teasing. When you’d lean down close to his face and graze your lips against his only to snatch them away mid-thrust when he tried to muster the brain power clogged by pleasure to respond. Hauling yourself back to your full height; you felt the reverberating moan as he watched you tinkering with your clitoris, slow and purposeful to drag out the desperate lust of the pilot sandwiched between you and your mattress. You couldn’t pinpoint it but somewhere along the way, Poe began to realize you were not as simple or airheaded as he had allowed himself to believe. Did that scare him? Being tied to the bed with no means of escape or self-help should have scared him; especially when he began to notice such a merciless change. But Poe was far too enveloped in physical euphoria; revelling in the smell of two connected humans, the slap of skin on skin and of course the sensation in his lower quarters that was different for each and every one of us.

His eyes had closed; he couldn’t have seen it coming. You leaned in again with raised eyes, examining the plump veins ballooning among the muscles under the strain of the cuffs, trying to choose which one to try first. But did it really matter? The blade seemed to sing as it swung and latched into his right wrist, pausing there for a moment while it gathered enough momentum to drag itself downwards and therefore tear through the flesh, almost to his elbow. Corrosive to the skin and detrimental to everything inside it, your close proximity was to taste the first taint of panic on his breath and you savoured just that when his eyes flew open. For a moment, everything seemed suspended in nothing while Poe tried to piece his situation together. He felt pain but couldn’t understand why. He saw blood but couldn’t decipher from where. He felt you close but not moving like you had been, more gently grinding rather than the full blown thrusts he had relished up until a few seconds ago.

The bravado and cockiness had evaporated and left little more than a frightened child. He looked from the devastating, vertical wound then back to you with ceaseless incomprehension, repeating the action until you were sure his neck was sore. But a crick in his neck was the least of Poe’s problems and he seemed to realize it. Especially when you wrenched out the pointed instrument and pierced the left wrist to match the right. Only then did he begin to scream and thrash in a petrified bid to throw you off but the damage was done even if he succeeded. He must have forgotten about the soundproofing, failed to remember that no one was going to hear him or help him. In his hysteria, the blood just seemed to scatter rather than seep. Scarlet coated you, Poe, the bed, the wall and beyond depending on how he tried to rattle himself free.

Of course, the more of fluster Poe tumbled into, the faster his heart raced and powered the blood through his veins until it reached the damaged ones, projecting it further and harder with every frantic move he made. Naturally, he couldn’t keep that up forever. The crimson (or what was left of it in his body) was a limited resource and was fast dwindling. His movements began to slow, his eyelids struggled to hold their own weight and anything that left his mouth simply did so as a jumble of vowels and consonants that probably made sense within his fizzing brain but meant nothing to you. Weakened to the point of drained exhaustion, it was only a matter of time so you swung off the paling form of the once fine womanizer Poe Dameron and sink down beside him without even an inkling of removing the cuffs.

Distraction came from the distinctive melody of your phone alerting you to a Tinder notification. Reaching across the trembling, dizzy, blood soaked mass to the bedside table; you found yourself not only with a match but also a message. Scrutinizing the picture for familiarity, you recognized him as the redheaded surgeon from Snoke’s. Not the handsomest fellow but grounded, wealthy (flauntingly so if the cat was anything to go by), massively intelligent and probably cocky; it was obvious that his matches (if he got any) were attracted to the money he didn’t bother to be modest about. The message was opened and scanned with mild surprise at the manners; it wouldn’t have surprised you if you were dealing with a conceited misogynist.

Good evening.

I confess I needed to double check when I matched with you, in utter disbelief that you were in fact, who I recognized. I have followed your lectures for some time, in awe of the gruesome details (I’m a surgeon myself) and captivated by your flawless and fearless delivery. I admire that in a woman, a woman who defies convention of what she should and should not study, what she should and should not pursue; particularly if the subject is “unladylike”. I would love to discuss some of your topics in more detail and in person, Doctor, if you can spare me an evening of your no doubt exceptionally busy schedule. Of course, with the nature of Tinder, perhaps we could discuss more than just blood and gore? If the idea is appealing, please do message me back to arrange a convenient time. If not, no offence will be taken but I don’t think I need to remind you that you swiped right too! I look forward to hearing from you at your earliest possible convenience.

Warmest compliments,
A.Hux.

A tad formal for a Tinder message? Perhaps but in his mind, he was sure an esteemed woman like yourself would appreciate an intellectual and more thought out message than “wanna fuck?” There may have been some ill-truths in the text. He did not recognize you when you popped up initially but the intrigue had clawed at him to such a degree that he couldn’t resist following Poe’s example and googling the university and your (first) name only to go from there to Youtube. From there, the rest of the message was true. You had captivated him with your intricate speech and horrendous details but all coming from the mouth of a woman he found magnificently compatible.

As you read it with Poe’s dying heaves barely audible in the background, you were certainly tempted. A surgeon? You’d be stupid not to. Let him spoil you for an evening or two, let Poe’s demise die down first and who knew, you might even get ideas if you poked a little. With that in mind, you began to type with the smell of iron thick in your nostrils. Was he even dead yet?

Well! That’s a nice change from the messages I usually get! You’re indeed correct, Doctor, I did swipe right and I have every intention of living up to that responsibility. As for your request, I would love to discuss cannibalism over a good steak but alas, I don’t eat out very often so I will relinquish the responsibility of choosing a venue to you. My evenings are free as I finish at the university at about three so please do choose a time and day that suits your schedule as mine is reasonably flexible. I look forward to meeting you and testing how strong your stomach is!

Fond regards,
Y/N.
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