Plo is trying very, very hard to pay attention to his work. He is failing miserably.
There wasn’t much time for a celebration once they’d decided to formalize their bond, but they’d managed to carve out a two day milk run carrying messages away from the front, the majority of which was downtime and spent enjoyably. More importantly, it was spent alone. Free of interference. No comm calls or non-emergent emergencies. Just himself, Wolffe, and a bunk in hyperspace.
Plo suspects Wolffe had jumped at the chance to set some triggers in his mind. He has no other explation for the persistent urge to sink deeper into his bond with Wolffe, especially since intellectually he knows what Wolffe is up to and he knows he needs to finish reading these reports so he’s prepared for his meetings tomorrow, but he’s having to fight himself to stay in the moment. The actual moment, not the moment he knows is being strung out like mental bait by someone who knows his prey far too well.
By the Force.
He breathes deeply. He really could not care less about the state of screw manufacturing in the Mid-Rim.
It used to be so easy to shrug off these kinds of things. They weren’t his feelings, they were optional, he had to put in effort to make a mental connection before being innundated with distractions. Wolffe isn’t even fantasizing about him; he’s fantasizing about what he wants to do to him. There’s nothing inherently interesting about being held in those positions except that it makes Wolffe happy, which gives his mental touch a rather satisfying feel. It’s a learned association. That has taken an alarmingly short time to form.
He clicks his way through a number of swears and gives up.
This is not what I had imagined you would use this for, he thinks somewhat crossly, burying his head in his hands.
All’s fair, Wolffe thinks back, comfortably sprawled on his bunk and completely remorseless. Besides, a good Commander knows how to leverage his advantages.
He’s not technically wrong, and Plo can’t stay cross at him for long anyway. So what incentive are you offering for me to abandon my work? You know I have to be prepared for tomorrow.
How about I don’t distract you in the morning?
Wolffe, my dear.
Oh, all right. Wolffe thinks for a moment. I’ll take half the reading and give you the important parts over breakfast, and you come to bed instead of working all night.
And be distracted now.
And be distracted now, Wolffe admits. I’m not a saint.
Plo sighs and collects the necessary reports. I knew we should have taken longer to get this worked out of our systems.
I wasn’t expecting it to be this intense, Wolffe says. But I’ve got bad news for you if you think I’m ever not going to be up for a few rounds with you.