So Krennic gave Tarkin a "gift", is there anything nice Tarkin has done for Krennic? (NSFW or otherwise)
“Is it a new shuttle?”
“Is it a star destroyer?”
“Are you giving me a whole fleet?”
“Certainly not! Stars, Orson, what would you do with a fleet of star destroyers?”
“Far more than I can do without one,” Krennic retorted, scratching the edge of the blindfold irritably.
Tarkin tugged the cloth back down over Krennic’s eyes and dialed in the coordinates, setting their course towards Krennic’s gift.
“It is not a Fleet.”
Krennic had been attempting to guess the identity of the gift for a solid ten minutes now. Meanwhile, Tarkin continued to say “no” to any and all guesses while seeing the man’s gift come into view.
This was no mere bauble. This was something far more precious than glittering stones, fine silks or luxurious furs. This was commitment for the both of them.
He looked back at his partner. Krennic sat on the edge of the co-pilot seat, back straight, gloved hands in his lap, but his leg bounced up and down in an anxious shake. He continually licked his lips, something he did when he was apprehensive or eager and as of right now he was most likely both.
Some days, Tarkin wondered why he put so much effort into taking care of Orson…
“Is it an summer home on Coruscant?” Krennic asked suddenly, a boyish smile spread across those lips.
He may be a spoiled prince, he thought with a slight smirk. But he is my spoiled prince.
“It is not.”
“My own estate then?”
“You have an estate with me on Eriadu, Orson,” Tarkin reminded him. “A rather large one.”
“Yes, but I could have my own, too.”
“No, one estate is more than enough. For goodness sake, I had a statue of you erected in the main grounds. It can practically be seen from space.”
Krennic let out a surprisingly endearing giggle. “That was a rather nice birthday gift.”
“And before you ask, you are not getting your own planet.”
“My own planet?” Krennic scoffed with a flair of exaggerated drama, “Ridiculous, I would never ask such a thing. Really, Wilhuff, what kind of greedy man do you take me for?”
Tarkin laughed before he could catch himself. A victorious smile pulled at Krennic’s cheek, a smile he only showed Tarkin when he was particularly proud of himself for getting the stuffy grand moff to laugh.
“Are you ready?” Tarkin asked.
“For my simple box of chocolates from my dear partner? Of course…I just hope they are cream-fil…”
When the blindfold was removed, Krennic’s voice faded away.
“Oh, Wil…” Krennic breathed.
Tarkin watched the director closely as he gazed at the gift. Krennic’s mouth hung open. That persistent, overly-confident grin was erased entirely and disbelief held those sinfully pouty lips apart. His crystal blue eyes that Krennic so often used against Tarkin to get whatever he wanted, glittered with growing tears. That throat that Tarkin often decorated with precious gemstone, pearl,s and well-oiled leather during their intimate moments moved slightly as he tried to swallow down the glorious sight before him.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It is,” Tarkin replied.
“Is it mine?”
Krennic touched the glass of the viewport with a gloved hand.
“She’s beautiful. How did the Emperor agree to this?”
Talking smiled at the spherical frame of the second Death Star still in its infancy suspended within space near ten mobile small space stations. Cargo ships and shuttles zipped around it like restless bees tending to a hive.
Tarkin regarded the young battle station with an appreciative smile. “The Emperor and I have been discussing a second Death Star since the victory at the Battle of Yavin, but I did not have the means to oversee such an operation nor did I trust anyone else to do so in my place. After my involvement with you, Orson, I have been considering what our relationship truly means in the grand scheme of things.” Krennic’s gaze pulled away from the Death Star and focused intently on Tarkin.
“I do not enter into relationships easily, Orson,” Tarkin continued. “A man of my caliber has little use for frivolous emotions that would otherwise deter me from my goals. Somehow…you have managed to worm your way into my life and despite my best efforts to rid myself of you, I realized the more I resisted, the harder I seemed to fall.
“I spoke with the Emperor and expressed to him that of anyone in the galaxy, it absolutely should be you to look over this second Death Star project. You managed to put together the first Death Star with little help from your superiors. In fact, we did all we could to slow your efforts. I posed to the Emperor this thought: ‘Imagine what we could do with the a whole Empire backing him?’
“We already have the technology, thus avoiding any further betrayals as devastating as Erso’s. We have more than enough resources and manpower since our power has grown thrice fold after Yavin. You have everything you need: Materials, equipment, endeless resources, and above all…you have support from the Emperor, from Lord Vader, from me.”
Krennic gazed at Tarkin dumbfounded.
“I honestly don’t know what to say, Wil. I think this is the first time in my life I truly do not know how to respond.”
“I have rendered you speechless? Then this is a momentous occasion,” Tarkin teased, but he took Krennic’s hand and kissed his knuckles lightly.
“Will I get an audience with the Emperor then?”
Tarkin nodded. “It is scheduled in a week’s time and you will have regular audiences with him as he would like to know every detail about the growth of this project. I will coach you on how to conduct yourself in front of him. No, do not argue. Trust me on this, Orson. He is a long-time friend of mine but he is dangerous and the more faith he has in you, the easier your time in the Empire will become.”
“Moff Krennic,” Krennic beamed.
Tarkin rolled his eyes. “Deliver us a second Death Star and we can talk about future titles.”
“I love you, Wil,” Krennic said. “Thank you for this…”
“Understand, I did not do this out of love,” Tarkin clarified, a bit quicker than intended. “I did this because I have the utmost faith in you. You managed to build a Death Star when the galaxy was against you. Yet despite these obstacles you delivered us a weapon that crushed a significant part of the Rebellion in one swift stroke. This Death Star will finish the job and secure the Empire’s rule for centuries to come.”
“Yes, but you also did this because you love me,” Krennic said with that infamous dashing grin.
Tarkin snorted irritably, but leaned over and gave Krennic a soft kiss on those wet, power-hungry lips. “Yes, fine…I suppose I did.”
Thank you so much for the prompt, bestie! This was fun!