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Star Wars: Eclipse (TheCorsair and Xana)

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Quinn was more than a little surprised when Scarlet took his hand, but the reason became readily apparent. He could feel the tension in her grip, and read tge anxiery in the subtle twitching of her fingers. Clearly, the hit going badly had rattled her, even if mist people wouldn't have noticed it. Her voicecwas light and steady as she ordered.

"And you, sir?" the droid asked.

"The maarl quick-fried noodles," he decided, "with lemish sauce. Medium heat. With a sude of steamed toklroot."

"Very good, sir," the droid answered, turning and wheeling away. Quinn watched it leave, then turned his attention back to the woman at his side. He regarded her in silence for a moment, then smiled.

"So. Did I manage discrete?"
 
She chuckled at question, between sips of wine. “Hmm, something like that.” A longer drink now, feeling his eyes on her, and finding she didn’t mind it so much. “So, is this how you celebrate a successful job? A fine meal at a charming restaurant? A fawning woman on your arm? Or am I special, somehow?” Her finger escaped his hand and traveled up his arm. She scooted a bit closer, whispering in his ear.

“Up for another job? I have a meeting with my contact tomorrow. It’s a big one, and I know I am going to need the back up again.” Her cheek brushed against his, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure whether she was playing a role or not. Somehow the seductress and professional killer were one and the same.

She sat back as their food was brought up, filling the air with divine scent that made Kaydia’s stomach grumble. She took several bites, moaning into the delectable food. “Wow, this is amazing, I can’t believe I’ve been on Mustafar this long, and never came here before.”
 
"Oh, I'd say you're special," Quinn responded. Two could playvat this game, after all. "I generally don't celebrate quite this lavishly. But then again, my last couple of jobs were with a trio of Nemoidans, and with some bug-thing I've never heard of before from beyond the outer rim." He sipped his wine. "Nothing against nonhumans, mind. But these four seemed to think that rubbing down with cologne was a substitute for hygene."

He flashed her a quick smile. "Or was that the 'honesty' thing again?"

His vouce traiked away as she leaned close, whispering in his ear. The fact that her question was work-related did nothing to alter the way her voice sent a shiver down his spine. She smelled like soap, and like exotic flowers, and danger, and that scent lingered as she moved away. "Yeah," he said, sipping at his drink again, this time trying to cover the flush in his skin. "Yeah, I'm in. Gives me an excuse to hang around."

Just then, the droid arrived with two sreaming platters. Scarlet dug into hers, savoring her meal and commenting on how goid it was. Quinn, for his part, added a savory bluish sauce to his plate of noodles and vegetables and seafood, then scooped up a mouthfull with the traditional tongs. "Yeah. One of the nice things about my lifestyle is the opportunity to try new cuisine." He speared a toklroot and sucked the creamy flesh from the husk. "You can only eat milrats so long before you want to kill yourself."

It was fascinating watching her. He knew she was a dangerous, highly skilled killer. But watching her enjoying the meal, without any hint of pretense or affectation, made her seem like... different. Human. "So... at the risk of getting all honest again, you in a hurry to get back? Because I know a little hole in the wall bar with an amazing house band. Might be nice to get a couple of drinks and relax a little."
 
“No, hurry at all. I have no obligations until…” She checked her communicator, “Tomorrow at 1100 hundred, local time.” And now here she was, risking being honest. That she had no intention of leaving his side, if he didn’t make her. That the thought of spending the night alone depressed her, and made her hunger for Inertia. That this life didn’t leave much room for friends or dating.

Was this a date, now? They were seeking out excuses to spend time together, beyond the scope of their professions. Maybe he was just being nice, no need to read into it any more than that. Maybe he was just trying to get her into bed. Well, she certainly didn’t mind those intentions.

She finished her food with one last pleased sigh as Malri came back to check on them. “Good I hope?” the Snivvan.

“Absolutely divine. You will see my face around here much more often. Even if things with Quinn here go sour and it gets awkward.” She exulted, nudging Quinn as she teased him. She drained her glass as the proprietor laughed.

“Can I tempt you with dessert? We make a wicked Marsh-Root Soufflé.” He advertised. She shot Quinn and intrigued look.

“What do you say? Share it with me?” She pleaded, fingers tracing his knuckles as she bit her bottom lip.
 
"I'd just about have to share it with you!" Quinn laughed. "The serving sizes here are faintly ridiculous!" The humor was there to try and cover his sudden awkward feeling as the evening seemed to turn into a date. He hadn't intended... no, no, that wasn't true. Was it?

"I like to think of it as a serving size that encourages togetherness," the Snivian countered. "And besides, it's hardly my fault that humanschave no metabolism to speak of."

"Right. I bow to your superior evolutionary adaptations. Bring it out." With a little bow the Snivian departed. He had intended to try and turn it into a date, Quinn admitted to himself. He wasn't sure which was the madder idea - the impulse to try, or the idea that she'd gone along with it.

"I've got to ask," he began, turning his attention back to Scarlrt, "what brought you to Mustafst? Business?"
 
Kaydia chuckled alongside him, as he spoke with Malri. She might have worn the Shadi skin, but she knew this was her, the real her, coming through now. It wasn’t an act to gain some leverage or accomplish her task. That she wanted this, for herself. For her own happiness.

Happiness. What a strange concept. Was someone like her even allowed to be happy? After everything she had done? Perhaps she could be given a brief respite to the loneliness and hatred that consumed her. Revenge could take a night off couldn’t it?

"I've got to ask," he began, turning his attention back to her, "what brought you to Mustafar? Business?"

She put on a smile and a mask once more as he broached the subject, “Something like that.” She wished she had gotten a refill on her glass of wine now. Something to occupy her hand and take attention away from her. Suddenly those eyes on her felt like they were peering into the depths of her soul, discovering the dark and distasteful secret that made her who she was today. Scarlet, Black Sun assassin. “Sometimes life takes you in strange directions,” She added, unhelpfully. As if she were casually discussing the decision to open a business, or take on a new profession. As if she weren’t talking about killing people for money and drugs.

“How about you? I’d think my reputation would keep people far away, and yet here you are, looking for excuses to stick around. Are you always this attracted to danger, or do I in particular just make you stupid?”
 
"Oh, life certainly takes you in strange directions," Quinn agreed. "I, for example, was raised on Ando Prime by the Order of Dai Bendu. One of the few humans ever admitted to their rule, and only because I was taken in as an orphan. They raised me to be a quiet, peaceful aesthetic and scholar." He grinned. "Look how well that turned out."

“How about you?" Scarlet asked, throwing a question back at him. "I’d think my reputation would keep people far away, and yet here you are, looking for excuses to stick around. Are you always this attracted to danger, or do I in particular just make you stupid?”

"Well, I've always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie," he confessed. "And I'm terribly careful in my day job, so I have to find my danger somewhere." This time, he was the one to brush her hand with his fingers. "And you've made me stupid since the first time I saw you..."

The droid arrived at that moment, bearing a light souffle topped with something resembling purple meringue. "Your marsh-root souffle," it announced, setting it on the table. "May I be of any further assistance at this moment?"

"Yes," Quinn said. "You can go away."
 
Blue. His eyes were definitely blue. And what a shade of blue, as he spoke of her making him stupid. It had been quite a while since someone had done the same to her. She felt the electricity in his fingertips as they grazed her skin. She was often touched in her job, and it was not always welcome. It came with the territory, naturally, and she always put up a delighted face no matter how disgusted she felt. But when was the last time she wanted to be touched, and truly relished in it?

The droid interrupting their private moment was most unwelcome, even as it brought over the dessert they had ordered. As sweet as the soufflé smelled, it paled in comparison to rediscovering feelings she long thought dead. She couldn’t agree more as he told it to go away, neither one bothering to look away from the other. Never the less, she dipped the spoon into their dessert and brought it up to his lips. She watched with interest as he opened his mouth for the spoon, and wrapped his lips around it as she pulled it back. His pink tongue darted out to collect the purple crème that stuck to his lips. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was a good kisser.

“You remind me of this boy I used to know,” She confessed between bites, an authentic smile and feeling of happiness coming over her features. “Back before I was in this life. He was rather handsome, and a few years older than me. Oh, I had such a crush on him,” She couldn’t stifle the nostalgic laugh as she thought of him. “What was his name…?” She took a couple long bites as she tried to remember him.

“That’s right, Kazak, the Iridonian. Hmm…”She nodded sincerely, as memories flooded back, “He was my first kiss. We were in the same, ummm…training program.” She tried explaining away, hoping he didn’t press for more details. But why would he?

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about all that, huh?” She gave Quinn an apologetic look. “See, this is why I have that no honestly policy.”
 
The souffle was good. The fact that she was feeding him some of the bites was better, although it made him wish that he was better at the whole innuendo thing. Sucking purple cream off a spoon could probably have been made sensual and arousing - hell, she was making it sensual and arousing simply by eating it - but he was pretty sure he was just making it look awkward. Particularly when he managed to get some of it on his chin. Not sexy.

“You remind me of this boy I used to know,” she said, with a smile that lit her eyes. “Back before I was in this life."

"I'm gonna hope," Quinn interjected, "that this is a good thing."

"He was rather handsome, and a few years older than me. Oh, I had such a crush on him." Scarlet giggled at that. Which Quinn found both charming and slightly odd. A feared assassin, giggling. “What was his name…?” She fished around in her memories as he took another bite of the dessert. “That’s right, Kazak, the Iridonian. Hmm… He was my first kiss. We were in the same, ummm…training program.”

"An Iridonian, hm?" He thought about that for a moment. "Not quite my thing, but they do have a reputation for being constantly horny..." After a moment with that joke hanging in the air, he shook his head ruefully. "Sorry. My sense of humor is woefully underdeveloped."

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear about all that, huh?” She gave Quinn an apologetic look. “See, this is why I have that no honestly policy.”

"Nah, didn't bother me." He shrugged a little, then cut the last bite in half with his fork and offered it to her. "I just hope it turned out better than my first kiss. A pretty brunette who attended the same school I did, and who actually went into the same line of work. It... ah... didn't work out so well." Eyes that had gone a little distant and misty at the memory turned hard, and his jaw set. "I thought we were in love. Right up until the moment when she framed me for murder and then tried to kill me to cover up her involvement in a drug smuggling ring."

He forced a laugh.

"It's the kind of thing that kills a relationship, y'know?"
 
Kaydia accepted the last bite as he offered it, rather enjoying how the evening was shaping up. Certainly not ready for it to end, as their meal concluded. As she savored that last bite, he spoke of his first kiss, and his first love, obvious hurt in his expression as he recalled it. She took his hand once more, in a way she hoped was comforting, but truthfully, she didn’t have much experience in offering comfort. He laughed, a fake laugh she was well familiar with.

"It's the kind of thing that kills a relationship, y'know?"

“What, you mean you two couldn’t work things out after that?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. Truthfully, she felt a bit of jealousy at his story. Not at the mention of the pretty brunette who broke his heart, but at the admission that they were in love, or at least Quinn thought they were. She wondered what that was like, and lamented that fact that’s she would likely never know. She wondered if it were ironic that the prohibition against love was the only part of the Jedi Code she had managed to uphold, even now.

“Well, I was going to make you pay for dinner, after that joke about Iridonians, but not after hearing how your first love broke your heart with lies and attempted homicide. So dinner is on me.”

She paid for their meal and hooked her arm in with his, as they walked out. It looked the same as yesterday, as they moved through the Velvet Spire together, but it was different, today. It wasn’t an act put on for onlookers, but a desire for closeness, the culmination of connecting with him over dinner. “You can get the drinks. Tell me more about this bar you are taking me to.”
 
"Tell you?" Quinn grinned. "Well, it's a little place called Munden's. Usually a quiet sort of place, out near the edge of the environmental dome. Not the best part of town, but the owner - a semi-retired merc named John Gaunt - ensures that the local toughs play nice." A pause. "The ones that the Black Sun doesn't keep in line, that is." He opened the speeder door for her, then walked around and climbed into the driver's seat. "I think you'll like it," he said with a smile. "There's far more to it than meets the eye." The engine purred to life, and he pulled out into traffic.


The bar was, as advertised, in a run-down part of the city. One lit with a ruddy glow from the perennial lava fields beyond the environmental dome, and strewn with the signs of lax police attention and struggling humanity. Quinn didn't seem particularly concerned as he parked the expensive speeder in front of the squat stone and concrete building with the simple sign "Munden's", however. He merely opened the door for Scarlet and locked the speeder after she stepped out. Offering her his arm, he escorted her inside.

The first thing to notice about the bar was the pulsing beat of the music, a slow-tempo electronic thing backed by synthesizers and the occasional horn. That was the first thing, because the interior lighting was dim. The second thing to notice was the mass of different xenosentients that patronized the bar. Humans and near-humans, Togruta and Ithorians and Zabrak and Kel Dor and Bith and others too exotic to recognize easily, all mixed easily or hunkered at their tables and nursed their drinks. There was a dance floor, and a few dozen people circulated on it, but most of the action appeared to be drinking. Everyone glanced up at them, glanced a second time at 'Shadi' - she was worth glancing at, after all - and returned to their business.

"Hey, Quinn," waved the bartender, a lean brunette man wearing a button-down shirt and black vest. "And who's this?"

"Hey Gordon," Quinn answered. "This is Shadi, an... associate of mine."

"A pleasure, ma'am," Gordon responded, then looked back at Quinn. "Your regular?"

"Nah. I'm trying to impress her with my good taste. How about..."

"A little late for that," Gordon grinned. "She seems to have met you already."

"Ha. Ha." Quinn answered, deadpan. "Spiced pulkay, and a show of Corin whiskey. And whatever she's having."
 
Kaydia liked the bar. It had a rugged warmth about it, that she found she rather preferred to the sterile swank of the nightclubs she usually visited, when she spent her evenings riding out the high of Inertia. Couldn’t conceivably be called glamorous, but authentic, in a way that made it seem superior to the high end clubs. It wasn’t a place where wealthy brats got stoned out of their minds until the crowd was filled with blank faces and empty expressions. It was far removed from the life she lived as Shadi, and she rather liked that. It made her feel more like Kaydia, even if she still wore Shadi’s mask.

Still, she knew she was out of place here, like this. She knew from the eyes that drank her in and stole second glances. She probably should have slipped out of the Shadi persona before they got here. Just like he had slipped out of his alias before they had dinner. Eh, whatever, it was fine. As long as he went home with Kaydia, at the end of the night…

“I’ll have the same,” She offered, as Quinn put in his drink order and they were served quickly enough. It seeming being on the arm of a regular had its perks. She clinked her shot glass with his, and downed her whiskey, chasing it with a long drink of the pulkay. She could feel the alcohol working its way through her system already, building towards a nice buzz that left her lightly flushed. The music hammered through her, to the point she was feeling it as much as she was hearing it. By the time she was done with her drink, the urge to dance was too powerful to resist.

“Come on, dance with me,” She demanded, feeling her head sway side to side just outside her control. Her hands took his, pulling him to the dance floor if he wouldn’t come willingly. Almost immediately she lost herself in the music vibrating into her ears and out her fingertips, and his scent, mostly clean with just enough perspiration to remind her that he was a man. Her eyes closed as her body moved, the throbbing of the bass guiding her motions.
 
"Dance?" Quinn almost yelped, just barely managing to set his glass down as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the floor. "Oh, come on! I'm terrible at dancing!" But it seemed that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Instead she led him - dragged him, some might say - out into the midst of the other dancers. On the floor, away from the sonic baffles of the rest of the bar, the music pounded and thumped, vibrating his very bones. And despite his protests, he began to move with the music. Hells, with the vibrations of the bass, it would have almost been harder to not move.

At first his movements were awkward. Jerky. Self-conscious. A sort of nervous shuffle of the feet and twitch of the arms, soon followed by flexing of the knees and a little pop in the hips. But he quickly realized that nobody was really watching him. The dancers were either like Scarlet - eyes closed and focusing on the music - or they were focused on their partners. He chose the second approach, because Scarlet and the 'dress' she wore were utterly distracting. And soon his nervousness faded, revealing him to be... well... still not a great dancer. But good enough.

By the time of the second song, he'd caught her hand and pulled her close, moving into a half-remembered four-step that he vaguely remembered being taught as a teen. His training hadn't focused on such matters, of course, but he'd been exposed to the basics of how to move in different levels of society. And part of that training had been dancing. Muscle memory kicked in soon enough, and lost in the feel of her body moving with him, he relaxed even further. Once, without even thinking about it, he spun her out and drew her back, drawing a deep breath of arousal and enjoyment as she pressed against his chest.

With the third song the band changed styles, going for smooth and slow and instrumental, clearly showing off their skills. By Quinn's shyness about dancing had evaporated and he held Scarlet close, swaying and moving against her in time with the music. Occasionally they would part, spinning and coming together in a swirl of limbs. when it ended he found himself holding her in his arms, staring down into her eyes. Without stopping to think, lost in the moment, he pulled her closer and lowered his face to hers. Electricity and warmth flooded his nerves as their lips met, and for a long moment he was aware only of her warmth and her taste.
 
Clearly he wasn’t as comfortable on the dancefloor as she was. It was cute, his slight awkwardness, especially since he had come off so slick and confident in every other regard. It was long before he relaxed, moving alongside her with something approaching skill. Then it was fun and exhilarating, as he twirled her and pulled her close. She was dizzy and drunk on delight and more than a little tipsy and it felt a hell of a lot better than Inertia.

Then the music changed and he was holding her close, and his hands were around and her hands were around his neck. His chest was hard against hers, and she could feel the strength is his arms and she couldn’t help but wonder how he might look underneath it all. Perhaps leaning over her as the sweat rolled down his muscles and he drove into her core…

Suddenly his lips were on hers and they tasted of whiskey and longing as her tongue slid over and sought out his. Her breasts pressed into his pecs as her arms tightened over his neck and his tightened around her waist. She wasn’t sure if she was sighing and moaning into the kiss or he was, or they both were, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop, or pull away or even breathe, as one of her hand moved up behind his head, tangling in his hair. As their kiss grew hotter and more demanding, she could feel a flutter in her stomach, building towards a throbbing ache that made her knees weak.

For a moment or so longer, they were still pressed against each other, foreheads and noses touching, hot breath wafting over each other’s face. She wanted another kiss, and another, cuddled in his arms as her hands explored his body. She wanted to taste more of him and to feel his lips tasting her. She smiled up at him, licking her lips.

“Should we get another round?” She asked coyly, pulling him close again, until her lips grazed his ears, “Or should we get go back to my place?”
 
The kiss broke, and for a moment anxiety washed over him. Had he pushed things too far? Had he misread the signals? Was he about to find out what it looked like when a high-caliber assassin took offense? But she just smiled and licked her lips slowly. “Should we get another round?” she asked. He was about to answer when she pulled him close, pressing the length of her body against him as her lips brushed his ear. “Or should we get go back to my place?”

It suddenly seemed incredibly warm in Munden's.

"Ah..." he answered, sliding an arm down her back and resting a hand on her rear. "No reason why we can't do both." He smiled at her, hunger in his eyes. "I enjoy the taste of pulkay, and I can only imagine you'd add extra spice to the flavor." His hand squeezed a little, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin and the leather of the dress. Then, shifting his arm so it was around her waist, he led her back off the dance floor. "Can you add the drinks to my tab?" he called as he passed the bar.

"Yeah, under the circumstances," Gordon agreed, waving cheerily. "Have a pleasant night."

The air outside was warm and dry, a typical night under the environmental dome on Mustafar. But it seemed cool next to the fire in his blood and the heat of the woman next to him. Quinn made it as far as the speeder before he pushed Scarlet up against the metal, hands exploring the contrasting feel of flesh and leather as he pressed into her, his lips hungry on hers and his tongue filling her mouth. He moaned at the feel of smooth thighs against his legs, of soft breasts against his chest, of supple muscle under his fingers. "I want you," he growled. "I think I've wanted you since the first night we met."
 
They hadn’t even made it back into the speeder before he was on her again, pinned down against the frame by his strength and yearning. There was a temptation to let him take her here and now, in full view of anyone passing by. Her thigh rubbed his, almost wrapped her legs around him as he kissed her, as she kissed him, matching his hunger and ache with her own.

“Well, you did save my ass tonight,” She moaned as his hand groped at that very ass, “I’d say you earned yourself a piece of it.” She pulled him into the kiss this time, hands roaming his back, feeling his trapezius muscles flexing under the suit and his skin. It was a deep, hard kiss, that left her gasping breathing hard once they pulled away again. “Come on, before we get a crowd gathered around, watching us.”

She slipped in next to him in the speeder, in putting the coordinate to her place. It wasn’t the Velvet Spire this night, but a small apartment in the decent part of town. It wasn’t a large place, but it had crisp lines and an open floor plan. Much like her room at the Velvet Spire, it was devoid of personal touch, just distressed concrete walls and pale wood flooring. A wrap around couch took up most of the living area, with the foot of a large bed just peeking out from the other side of the wall separating the room. Projected on the windows was lakeside scenery that one might find on a temperate, mid rim planet.

“So, what did you want to drink?” She called form the functional kitchen, examining her fridge. “I have some spiced pulkay, a bottle of white wine, and Corellian brandy.” She listed, grabbing a bottle of Pulkay for herself. Leaving it on the counter for now, she stepped into the bathroom to pull off her blonde wig and take out her contact. Her green eyes showed none of the glow from her earlier explosions of force energy, and she was content. If she was going to fuck Quinn, she was going to fuck him as Kaydia.
 
Quinn hadn't really thought about what sort of living space Scarlet might have. Oh, he'd seen what Shadi had, but that was as much a mask as the blonde wig and the vapid expression. Scarlet was still something of an enigma - although one that he'd enjoy unraveling - and the small building in a nice but nondescript part of the city was a surprising choice. Not the kind of place he'd have guessed a successful and well-paid assassin would take. Certainly not what the holovids would have you believe.

But then, according to the holovids, his living quarters should be ankle deep in liquor and whores.

The space was... spartan. The kind of living quarters maintained by someone accustomed to minimal personal possessions. The kind of place he'd grown up in, and that he was comfortable with. Which raised all sorts of interesting questions. If he searched, would he find a small satchel with her two or three most prized possessions, and a weapon, and a few essential tools? The sort of thing that he maintained, everywhere he went?

Who was Scarlet, he wondered. Who had she been, once upon a time? Clearly, he'd have to find out.

“So, what did you want to drink?” She called form the functional kitchen, examining her fridge.

"Dunno," he called back, turning to watch her pull a stocky purple bottle out of the fridge. "What do you have?"

“I have some spiced pulkay, a bottle of white wine, and Corellian brandy.”

He pursed his lips in thought as she placed the bottle on the counter and headed towards a door. "Some water, actually. And then some of the pulkay," he decided. "Rehydrate a little, before I get back to drinking." A quick grin. "Helps with the hangover." He found the glasses and poured both of them two fingers of pulkay and himself a full pint of water. The water went down twice, before he was even ready to consider the liquor once more. By then, Scarlet had emerged from the bathroom once more.

She was magnificent. Nothing about Shadi was unappealing, of course. And he'd seen her without her wig or contacts just last night. But her fiery hair was a wild mane of tangled curls, and her eyes glittered like emeralds, and her stance and walk had changed. Shadi strutted, displaying herself as a professional advertisement. But Scarlet prowled, a sleek and dangerous jungle beast. He watched her, desire and admiration frankly displayed in his expression, and then slid a glass over to her. "Comfortable?"
 
Kaydia felt the grin grow on her face as he posed his question. Comfortable. She was comfortable around him. Comfortable enough to be Kaydia, to be herself. Was there something about him, the disarming smile and twinkle in his eye? Or was she just tired of playing the roles, after all these years. She contemplated this as she drained her glass.

“I am,” She answered finally, bringing her eyes up to his. “You could probably stand to be a little more comfortable, though, couldn’t you?” She slinked over to him running finders over the hem of his jacket before hooking her thumbs on the inside, pulling it off his shoulders and hanging it up in the discrete closet off to the side of the bathroom. Her eyes traced the firm lines of his figure, not hiding her appreciation as her glance made its way back up to his face. “Yes, much better,” She declared.

“I should probably take your advice, as far as avoiding a hangover. Showing up to my meeting with my client tomorrow hungover isn’t a good look,” She agreed, purposely walking close by him, as if tempting him to touch her, to grab her and pull her into his arms. She leaned against the sink as water filled her glass, bringing a half full glass up to her lips and letting the cool liquid trickle down her throat and chin. She brushed up against him now, reaching past him to pour herself another drink, and feel his body against hers. Her viridian gaze never left his as she poured her drink, and topped off his.

“So, how many more drinks do you think it’s going to take to get you out of the rest of that suit?”
 
Quinn sipped his drink and made a show of contemplating the question. "About twice as many as it'll take to get you out of that dress," he decided, letting his eyes trace the collection of panels and straps that made up her outfit. "Alcohol lowers inhibitions, after all. And since I'm wearing more clothes it'll take more effort to lower mine..."

He swirled the pulkay in his glass, contemplating. "Now, as a gentleman, I simply can't allow myself to take advantage of you and the clear fact that it'll take less effort to get you naked. So..." he took a drink. "I'll need to get started first. That was one." Another swallow. "Two. And now, your turn..."

He took a drink, holding it in his mouth as he slapped the glass down on the counter and pulled her close. His lips were peppery from the spiced liquor, and the sharp taste of the alcohol accompanied his tongue as it slipped into her mouth. He pressed her back against the counter as he let the drink flow into her mouth and dribble down her chin as he kissed her. His hands, hard and callused from years of fighting, were rough on her skin as be explored her shape, but his tongue was soft on chin and throat as he lapped errant rivulets of pulkay from her skin.

"Almost enough," he murmured, voice husky with desire. Pressing his body against her, licking his lips at the feel of her curves against him, he groped blindly for his glass. Finding it, he raised it to his lips and drank. "One," he said, letting her taste the pepper heat as he kissed her. "Two," he declared, sloshing the glass and eying it critically.

He brought it to her lips, his cheek against hers as he did. "Your turn," he murmured, tipping it. The liquid splashed out, coating her mouth and chin, running down her throat and into the valley between her breasts. "How clumsy of me," he declared insincerely, a wicked glint in his eye. "Here, let me..."

Lips traced her chin and down her throat, and he moaned against her flesh as he savored her flavor mixed with that of the pulkay. Pressing her back further, arching her back, he worked down to her collarbone. Then his teeth scraped gently over the swell of one half-exposed breast, and his tongue followed the path of a rivulet of liquor.

Then he grinned up at her. "Well, hell," he laughed, examining a tiny damp spot on his shirt. "Guess I'll have to take it off..." He peeled the shirt away and tossed it aside, revealing a lean muscles and a few scars, testament to the life he'd led. Unexpectedly, his right pectoral, shoulder, and upper arm were covered with a single elaborate tattoo. An abstract thing of alien design, all swirls and arcs picked out crimson and sapphire with black highlights. It rippled and seemed to shimmer as her picked up his glass and refilled it. "Care to wager on who'll be naked first?"
 
Sharing the alcohol between kisses was incredibly erotic, even as it spilled down her skin. And it seems to spill doe her body more often than his. He was a perfect gentleman, of course, cleaning up his mess with tongue and lips along her chin and neck. The heat of his mouth upon her skin was tantalizing, even as it left a sultry trail of his saliva on her skin.

By now she was feeling pleasantly dizzy, and she knew it was the heat between them as much as the alcohol flowing in her veins. She bit into her lip as he shirt came off, his lean musculature just an enticing as she imagined it to be.

And just as distracting as his well-defined abs and chest was the intricate tattoo on his right side. It called for her fingers to touch and trace it, following the path of the shimmer. She almost didn’t hear his words, engulfed in the sight of both a lovely piece of art, and an equally exquisite canvas.

“Ah, wager. Yes, let’s do that.” She grinned up at him mischievously. “Let’s see…the first person naked owes the other the first orgasm of the night. Sound good?” Her fingers wrapped around the bottle of pulkay and brought it over his lips.

“So, let’s take a drink,” she announced, bringing the bottle up to his lips, with the same care he did, letting the alcohol pool in his mouth and drip down his chin and chest. She didn’t hesitate flicking out her tongue to collect the errant fluid, running her moist organ up his chest. Hot breathe followed in its wet wake, creating an interesting sensation of hot and cool alternating along his skin.

As her mouth found his once more, she stuck out her tongue to meet his outside their mouths, and poured more liquor over their outstretched tongues, clumsily splattering their mouths and lips. Teasing turned into an alcohol soaked kiss, pulkay trickling down both of their bodies now.

It was tempting to lose the wager. She couldn’t deny how good his chest felt against her body, and could only imagine how much better it would feel against her bare skin. Soon she slipped the dress up off her body, clad now in her bra and panties and thigh high leather stiletto boots. “Hmm, looks like you might be winning…”
 
Quinn had enjoyed his version of "let's take a drink". But he found he enjoyed Scarlet's version just as much - if not more. The alcoholic pulkay was cool on his skin and her tongue was hot and the contrast made him shiver with delight. And then her spicy kiss, and the feel of her liquor-slippery body against him as she did her best to shrug out of her dress while pressing against him made his need for her consume him. "Hmmm..." she purred, stepping back and posing for him. "Looks like you might be winning."

He shoved her back against the bar, then, pinning her in place with the weight of his body. His hands were between them, fumbling with belt and fastenings as he shimmied and ground and finally kicked his boots and pants away. The boxers he wore were loose but they did little to disguise the throbbing rod of his erection. His hands found her again, hard grip sliding over smooth skin and rolling muscle, and his tongue filled her mouth as he unhooked the clasps of her bra.

"Maybe," he growled, pushing her back on the countertop as he grabbed the bottle. "But it'll be a near thing." He tipped the bottle, letting the contents gurgle and splash across her breasts and stomach and drip down her sides to puddle on the counter. He groaned as he leaned into her, his mouth fastening on the spice-flavored softness of her breast and his hands playing over her liquor-slick skin. He sucked and licked, grinding his cock against her slit through the thin layers of cloth as he removed the last trace of alcohol from her.

Then he grinned at her, kissing her deeply as alcohol-scented fingers fisted in her hair. "What happens," he asked, voice husky as his cock pressed into her bare thigh, "if we both lose?"
 
“If we both lose?” She repeated, too horny to think straight, to think of anything that hard cock pressing against her slit and thigh. “I guess we go straight to fucking?” She squealed as he pushed against her, damning the clothing that prevent him from slipping into her moist silk.

“Believe me when I say I already want this in me.” She growled with a hungry grin playing upon her lips, and reached down to caress his manhood. She shuddered in glee as soft fingertips coursed over his twitching organ. She pulled him towards her bed, locking her lust fill gaze upon his eyes.

A trail of discarded clothes littered her floor, but she didn’t care, couldn’t care, couldn’t be bothered with anything now but his hard body pressing against hers. She sat down on the bed, bringing a booted foot up to him so he could hold it straight while she unzipped and peeled it from her skin.

Free of her boots she stood up now, brushing her body along his as she came up, and finding there were several inches difference between them now. Not that she minded so much, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her bare chest against his as she kissed him again. A deep full bodied kiss as she pushed him down on her couch.

“So are we calling it a draw or…” She backed away from him now, as painful as it was, and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. Ever so slightly she teased at them, pulling them away from her skin and lowering them slightly, tantalizing him with lay underneath, “Or am I about to lose?”
 
MF Smut Scene: Quentin and Kaydia
  • Index
    • Quinn made a little expression of disappointment as the boots came off - the thought of fucking her with them on had been hot. But the sight of her, naked except for the soaking scrap of cloth that served as panties, mire than made up for it. Especially when she pulled the band down over one hip, nearly exposing herself completely.

    He followed her forward, bracing himself against the wall as he barely touched her, his thumb finding the waist of his boxers. "Define losing," he breathed, sliding his hand down her shoulder and arm to find her panties. He eased them down along with her, removing his own and kicking them aside at the same time. Then he forced himself to step back, striking his own pose. "Like what you see?" he growled. "Because I do."

    With a fluid, cat-like pounce he was on her, pushing her back against the wall as he filled his hands with her hips and her mouth with his tongue. He leaned into her, flattening her breasts against his broad chest and using one knee to part her legs. One hand slid between them, flattening against her belly and creeping lower. His fingers found her lips, parting them and caressing the slick bud within. "You feel so fucking good," he growled, biting and sucking at her lower lip. He moistened his finger in her juices, then slid it into her.

    A moan of pure lust escaped him as he felt her walls grip his finger. "New wager," he sighed, working a second finger into her. "First one of us to get off..." His palm cupped her mound as the two fingers began stroking in and out with a wet, sucking sound. "First one to get off has to fuck the other one all night..?"
     
  • Index
    • Kaydia licked her lips and nodded approvingly as he posed for her, the throbbing hardness between his leg making her ache with longing, longing to have it filling her already. The kiss that pushed her into the wall managed to both soothe that ache and further inflame it, as if she could possibly be driven to deeper into lust over this man. One hand caressed his smooth chest and strong muscles of his arm, sweat and alcohol mixing to create an interesting scent. The other held the back of his head, pulling him deeper into the kiss, not letting him pull this mouthwatering body away from her.

    Then his wandering hands found her clit and she cried her pleasure to the sky, pulling away from the kiss to gasp in bliss. Strong thick fingers teased and danced at her opening, collecting her desire and parting her against him. She was whimpering now, as expert digits worked and curled within her, already half way to climax as he spoke up.

    “Yes…” she moaned, unintentionally agreeing to his proposition as she tried to express her delight. “Wait… what..?” She murmured, lost in the ecstasy of fingers within her soft walls, so very close…. She brought her own hand down, to stroke his cock, to make an attempt at winning this wager she was already so far behind on.

    It was too hard. Too hard to maintain any kind of pace as he filled her and thrust into her. Voluptuous breast bounced and heaved at his pace and her own rhythm faltered. She tried to pour all the pleasure he gave her into her own hand job, stroking him with all the hunger and lust she felt in the moment, but he was too damn good. “Fuck…Quinn…fuck…yes!”

    Her orgasm hit her hard, as eyes rolled into the back of her head. Breathy rasps mingled with the sounds of soaking fingers filling her sex as her core tightened. Suddenly she was clinging to him for strength, so that she could even stand through her release, her entire body quivering in the aftermath.

    It took a moment for the euphoria to subside and for her dizziness to fade away. “Looks like I lost,” she purred, before shoving him hard back into her couch, before he could process it she was on him, knees spread on either side of his thighs breasts flattened into that rock hard chest. She engulfed his mouth in a hunger kiss, as she submerged him in the velvet depths of her body. “Damn, you are so fucking thick in me,” She exhaled against his lips, just letting him pulse against her clenching walls. And then she began to move.
     
    "Looks like I lost," she grinned, body still shaking from the aftermath of her orgasm.

    "Or won," he leered, bringing his drenched fingers to his lips and sucking her taste from them. "From a certain point of view..."

    Her response was to shove him back and down, and he oofed as he struck the couch. She was on him before he could recover, hands fisting in his hair as she filled his mouth with her tongue, her body moving against his as she manuevered. Quinn gasped into her mouth as her heat engulfed him, liquid silk clenching like a fist around his aching cock. "Damn," she murmured, making him lay there and suffer the sweet torment of her motionless sex around him, "you are so fucking thick in me."

    His hands found the curve of her hips, nails biting into the skin of her ass. "And you are so fucking tight," he groaned back, fleding muscles to make his shaft pulse within her. "Hot and wet and tight." She clenched back, making him loll his head mack at the sensation. "Fuck me," he breathed.

    She began moving, a slow pace as she dragged her sex up his shaft and slid back down it. "Fuck," he breathed in a slow exhalation. "You getting off, teasing my cock like that?" His hands slid over her body, one cupping her breast and squeezing and the other gripping a handfull of her firm rear. ""You feel so fucking good on my dick," he groaned, thumb and tongue circling her nipple.

    Another moan escaped him as she took him completely once more. "That,s it," he groaned, biting at the nipple. "Fuck yourself on me. Use that tight cunt to milk my dick." He pulled her mouth to his, tongue slipping between her lips. "Fuck my cum right out of me."
     
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