![]() ![]() You spread your legs just a bit and pressed your hand against your clothed heat. Sighing in frustration, you released the glass of mead and slipped your other hand off the table. Still, he did nothing to acknowledge you. Your hand proceeded up and you tapped your fingertips along the metal plates strapped to Boba’s thigh. He tensed as your pinky grazed along the side of his leg, but continued his conversation with the yellow tinged Rodian across the table. Your right hand gripped your glass tightly while your left slowly moved off the table, down to Boba’s thigh. This was a horrible idea and you knew it. You took another sip of mead for courage and shifted slightly in your seat. If Boba didn’t want to pay attention to you, fine, you were just going to have to take things into your own hands and make it impossible for him to ignore you. Would you end up regretting this in a moment? There was only one way to find out. Would Boba kill you for this? Probably, but at this point you were too annoyed to care, plus, the alcohol in your system was definitely inhibiting your sensibilities. You weren’t sure how many glasses of the sweet liquor you’d consumed while Boba conversed with his associates but at this point, it was the only thing keeping you sane.Ī devilish idea crept into your mind and you debated with yourself for a moment. Increasingly tipsy too, apparently, as a server kept stopping by your booth to refill your glass with Sashin-leaf mead. He was treating you like an impatient child and you were getting increasingly annoyed. ![]() All those incidents ended peacefully though, and now, all you wanted was to go home.īoba dismissed you with a wave of his hand every time you tried to ask if you would be leaving. There were a few, particularly intense, interactions when Boba stiffened beside you, his hand gripping the steel of his blaster, ready to draw and fire at a moment’s notice. You were also impressed that all those shady individuals seemed absolutely terrified of Boba. At first, you were impressed by Boba’s ability to negotiate with, who you assumed, were some of the shadiest folks in the entire galaxy. You’d lost track of the number of associates he’d met with in the past, however long it had been, because, in all honesty, you’d stopped paying attention well over an hour ago. You understood that Boba needed to do business with people and aliens alike, but you didn’t understand why it needed to take this long. It felt like you’d been there for hours and you wanted to scream in frustration. You were seated between Boba and a stone wall, in a booth, tucked in the back of Mos Eisley Cantina. But this… well, this was just plain insufferable. You thought it would be something fun, something exciting, and that maybe you’d get to see a little bit of blaster fire or Boba roughing up some asshole that pissed him off. When Boba asked you to tag along for one of his jobs, you eagerly agreed, but you didn’t think it would be this. This is definitely the filthiest thing I’ve ever written so please enjoy! I had a great time writing it! Part of this was also inspired by something said about calling Boba pretty. A/N: I got so many lovely comments on my last Boba fic and they encouraged me to write another one. ![]()
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