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Wet Dreams

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“Deploy the second wave of TIE Defenders, Commander Faro. I—” 

Thrawn cut off, wincing as his bladder spasmed painfully, and Faro looked at him with concern. “Are you alright, Admiral?” 

“Yes.” Thrawn held his rigid posture only through sheer force of will, hands clasped tightly behind a straight back as he tried desperately to ignore the heated pressure in his belly. He could not abandon his post mid-battle to visit the refresher, no matter how much he would like to. He could wait. He simply had to focus. 

He forced his mind back on task, hoping this conflict would be resolved soon so he could finally leave the bridge— but it dragged on, time blurring and his desperation mounting. His task force seemed constantly on the brink of victory, yet somehow he could not seem to end the fight… and he was getting nearer to losing control with every passing moment. 

Thrawn surveyed the bridge, abruptly realizing that everyone was occupied with their tasks, facing their monitors or the viewscreens. Nobody was looking at him. 

Another wave of heat spread through him and Thrawn clenched his hands behind his back, barely stifling a moan of need. Perhaps letting go just a little would alleviate some of the burning pressure. Surely it wouldn’t show immediately if he just… 

Thrawn relaxed ever so slightly, and a brief spurt of heat soaked into his underclothes. His breath caught and he glanced down quickly, but as he had hoped, there was no visible sign of it from the outside. He closed his eyes, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief as he let another short spurt go… and then another, and another, until liquid heat began coursing a thin trail down the inside of his thigh. 

If only he could let go completely, it would feel so good… but he couldn’t. He had to hold it because—  

— 

“Admiral Thrawn?” 

Thrawn directed his attention back to his desk monitor with a start. “Forgive me. Please continue.” 

The conference call went on, but Thrawn was entirely unable to pay attention to the proceedings, all his attention focused on not squirming in his seat in a futile attempt to reduce the demanding pressure in his midsection. The meeting was showing no signs of ending, and Thrawn realized with a growing panic that he was not going to make it. Leaving before the call was concluded was simply out of the question, but— he was alone in his office. And the video feed would only be showing his face and shoulders. 

Attempting to hold an attentive expression, Thrawn leaned back in his chair, his leg bouncing under the desk. He quietly unfastened his uniform trousers beneath his tunic, just barely holding back a groan at the slight easing of pressure as his waistband loosened and ceased digging into his lower abdomen. 

The mild relief somehow only made matters worse, however. Thrawn froze as he felt a trickle of heat leak from his cock, his cheeks flushing at the thought of having to make his way back to his quarters after wetting himself in his office like a child. His crew would never respect him again. 

Swallowing hard, he slid one hand carefully into his trousers, his breath catching as he squeezed his cock. He was already stiff from holding back for so long, and he grew harder still under his own touch. Pushing his clothing down out of the way as much as possible, Thrawn drew his cock out under the desk, spreading his knees wider and tilting his hips down. If he was careful, none of it would get on his clothing. 

He tried to relax and let it come, but he was so hard that it only continued to trickle out, leaking down over his fingers. Thrawn froze again, trying to cut off the weak stream so it wouldn’t just run down and soak his clothes anyway— but he couldn’t stop it. 

Scarcely able to breathe at the knowledge of what his only remaining option was, hoping it wouldn’t be audible over the audio feed, Thrawn bore down in a brief, hard push. The instant, dizzying feeling of sweet release was followed a split second later by the muted splatter of liquid hitting the floor under his desk before he squeezed the flow off once more. 

Panting with relief and growing excitement, Thrawn pushed again. And again and again, looking down, watching as spurt after spurt of piss sprayed from his stiff cock and onto the floor. He aimed himself upwards to wet the underside of his desk, too; then tilted his head back with a groan and started stroking his aching cock, pausing occasionally to push again, the splashing sound as he pissed against his desk and on the floor further stoking his arousal. 

He couldn’t remember why he’d waited so long but it felt so good to let go, to not care that he was sitting at his desk— to enjoy it, even; going where he knew he wasn’t supposed to go. He was still full, somehow, his bladder still aching; but he was so aroused now that the need to come was more urgent than— 

— 

“Sir?” 

Thrawn’s eyes snapped open to see Commander Vanto standing in the middle of his quarters, watching him masturbate behind his desk. Vanto’s mouth was slightly open, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he ran his tongue over his teeth. Thrawn knew he should stop, knew this was completely inappropriate; but Vanto stepped closer, his eyes raking down Thrawn’s body, and Thrawn couldn’t bring himself to care that it was wrong, only squeezed his cock harder with a groan, desire coursing hot through his veins. 

Vanto dropped to his knees between Thrawn’s open legs, hot wet mouth closing over his cock, and Thrawn gasped, shuddering as he slid in and out between Vanto’s lips. He’d wanted this so much, for so long, and it felt so right he didn’t know why they had never done it before. Vanto was sucking him harder, the pleasure overshadowing the ever-present pressure beneath— he was so close— he was going to— 

— 

Eli—” 

Thrawn woke up to the darkness of his bedroom, halfway through his orgasm with Vanto’s name on his lips. Confused awareness jostled its way into his mind while his cock twitched in his hand, still pulsing waves of hot, sticky come into his sheet and over his fingers. 

Gasping, disoriented, Thrawn tried to catch his breath, his mind hazy with sleep. His dreams were already starting to fade away into mere impressions, but the disjointed snatches that remained, combined with the heavy ache in his bladder, were enough for him to realize they’d been those dreams again. At least he seemed to have woken up dry, as he always did; dry save for— 

The image of his cock in Vanto’s mouth as he came flashed back through his mind, a twinge of renewed desire throbbing through him at the vivid memory. Thrawn groaned, his hand tightening briefly around his spent and sticky cock; then gasped, tensing. He had inadvertently pressed down on his lower belly, and his body was reminding him in no uncertain terms of the underlying reason for the dreams he’d just had. 

He knew he needed to get up and go to the refresher, but… a part of him wanted to stay there; stay there and just… go. 

Thrawn’s breath hitched; caught briefly in his chest as he considered it. He could feel where his sheet was stuck to him; stuck to the come on his stomach, hand and cock. Staring down in the darkness, his breath coming fast and shallow, he tried to relax— waited— then when nothing happened, he tried a tiny, tentative push. 

A small patch of heat bloomed suddenly in the fabric over his cock, visible to his eyes in the infrared. An unnerving mix of excitement and shock flooded through him and he tensed again, the brief pulse of relief cut off as quickly as it had come, leaving his need feeling even more urgent. 

Thrawn hesitated a moment longer, then climbed out of bed, his cheeks hot with confused embarrassment at what he’d almost done— at what he had started to do. He shoved the sheet into the laundry chute and hurried to the refresher, trying to ignore the quiet voice in the back of his mind that was hoping… 

Maybe next time he wouldn’t wake up until it was too late.