Distractions
Linora moaned a little, two gunmetal fingers stroking deep into her core as she watched the hologram before her. It showed Quinn Hall, naked on a couch as Scarlet knelt before him and swallowed his cock.
"Close..." the image of the mercenary groaned,
"Such a good mouth, Kaydia. Ah! So... close..."
She stared at the holographic assassin's face, lost in passion as she fucked the mercenary's cock with her mouth, and her own metallic fingers worked faster within her drenched folds. Another moan escaped her lips as she felt a burning pressure building within her and imagined it was Kaydia's tongue instead of her fingers.
"So... will I have... to punish... you?" Quinn gasped out. Quentin gasped out.
She'd recognized him in the skimmer, of course. He'd changed some, since their last encounter. The one that had cost her a hand and nearly her life. But not so much that she didn't recognize her first lover. She'd even considered killing him then, but hesitated. He was fast, and skilled, and she wasn't sure she could have taken him even with surprise.
But, right now? She'd be willing to take him. Take both of them. Memories of stolen trysts in the order mingled with the surveillance footage she was watching, making her imagine Quentin driving into her from behind while Kaydia's cunning tongue... oh, yes... her tongue... "Aah!"
She bit her lip, arching her hips into her hand as Quentin's back arched and he drove his meat into Kayida's throat. "KAYDIA!" They both screamed the name, her voice breaking on her orgasm as the holographic mercenary sprayed his cum deep into the assassin's throat. Finally, exhausted, Linora slumped back in her chair.
"Quentin Hall," she whispered, reaching out to run her glistening metal fingers through the hologram. "And Kaydia. My, but this is getting better and better..."
***
Kaydia rose from the seat and stretched, contorting her figure delightfully. “So, how long is the trip to Procopia?”
Quentin checked the readings on the console “We got a couple hours.” He traced her figure with a leer, “Got any ideas on how to spend them?”
“One or two,” she said, trailing a couple fingers along his jaw. “Got any food on board? Between the fights and the sex, I am famished.”
“Mostly prepack, I'm afraid, since it stores better. But I've got a small supply of fresh foods as well, in case I feel like cooking." He rose and took her hand. "Come on. I'll show you."
As much fun as it would have been to cook a meal together, they settled on prepack dish. In this case, reconstituted beef broth, with flavored protein cubes and freeze-dried vegetables.
Simple, hearty, and, most importantly, largely edible.
Across the table, over their meals, Quentin watched Kaydia eat. Even with everything he’d discovered, everything she’d told him, mysteries lied beneath surface.
“You didn’t choose to leave the Order of the Unseen?”
“Well, no. I guess not.” Kaydia offered a sheepish smile and a shrug. “Does that matter?”
He reached for her hand. “You could come back. Maybe not exactly the same way, but…you could be a Shadow, like me.”
“Go back to the Unseen? Quentin, I can’t. I’m not a Justiciar.” She stirred a piece of beef around her bowl. “I’d follow you to the ends of the galaxy, if you asked. But I can’t be something I’m not.”
“There is no one right way to be a Justiciar,” Quentin argued, crooking his head to meet her eyes.
“Perhaps, but there are wrong ways to be one. And I’ve done every one of them,” She looked up at him, flashing a cheeky grin, “Now.”
“It’s not too late.” He traced her knuckles with his thumb. “Besides, I could use someone like you as back up.”
“Couldn’t I back you up as a freelancer? I mean, you trust me, don’t you?”
Spooning up the last of his stew he shoved the bowl aside. “Of course I trust you.”
“Then stop lecturing me.” The words were serious, but her eyes were playful, and she gave him a thoughtful, inviting smile. “I thought you were going to save my soul through sex.”
He released a short chuckle, then grabbed her wrist and pulling her to his lap. “You think it will work?” She answered in a kiss, hungering lips forcing his open as well. As her tongue slipped between his lips, her hands explored his chest, playfully working at the buttons of his shirt. He responded by tugging at the hem of her blouse, pulling it up so his fingertips could explore the smooth skin of her back.
With a subtle shudder in the engine, the ship dropped out of hyperspace. "I should head up to the cockpit," he remarked, eyes lingering on Kaydia. "We need to check..." The words died away as she pulled off her top and tossed it away. Her eyes didn’t leave his as she reached behind her back, and unhooked her bra, strappings sliding down her arms and breasts slipping free of the cups.
"Well," he grinned, "maybe it can wait..."
Things progressed at a deliberate pace, each wanting to linger over the other as they kissed and touched and explored. Soon his shirt was open to the waist and bare skin brushed against bare skin. Teeth and tongue worked down her throat and shoulders. Concentrating on her throaty sounds of encouragement, he almost didn't notice the jolt.
Almost.
"What was that?" Kaydia asked, pushing away and looking around.
"I... don't know," he responded, looking around as well. "Maybe the thrust regulators? Or the inertial compensators? I..."
The ship lurched again, followed by a metallic clang as something struck the hull. Moments later, scraping could be heard. "Shit!" Quentin declared, looking around frantically as he moved Kaydia from his lap. "Something grabbed us!"
As he rose, the sounds of cutters working at the lock could be heard. "I don't remember –did we bring your gun? If not, there's an arms locker over there." He pointed at a wide door near the fresher. "We're going to be boarded."
Kaydia bent over to scoop up her discard shirt as Quentin pointed out the arms’ locker. Her bra could wait, too much work to put on while they were under attack. Slipping her tank top back on as she made her way to the weapons, taking a moment to pick the best weapon for the situation. She decided on a bo staff and a small blaster, strapping it to her waist.
The ship lurched again, shifting in response to their captor’s ship. Kaydia stumbled, and fell against the hull, uncharacteristic of her usual grace. “We need…gas masks…” Kaydia gasped out.
"Gas masks?" Quentin repeated, momentarily confused. Then the first wave of dizziness hit him, and he sagged against the bulkhead for support. Calling on psionics, he set his lungs to the difficult task of absorbing only oxygen into his bloodstream and his kidneys and liver to filtering the toxins he'd already absorbed. As Kaydia made her way past, heading for the lock, he exhaled a greenish white plume of waste gasses and coma gas. Then, refusing to inhale, he turned to one of the emergency panels.
What came next was painful. Even with his blood richly oxygenated, his empty lungs ached to draw breath. Worse, he could still feel the gas working on him, slowing his actions and fuddling his thoughts. Clearly, it had both contact and inhalation vectors. As he heard the first shots exchanged and heard the first cries of pain and anger, he got the panel open and settled a breather on his face. Fresh oxygen flooded his lungs, letting him temporarily shake the effects of the gas.
The cutters tore a hole in the ship, and poured in through the opening. A green-haired man lead the raid, followed by a handful of others, each wearing a mask over his mouth and nose.
Kaydia hit one of the raiders in the shoulder, and stumbled back several steps, using the bulkhead for support. Her next shot killed her target, but not before several more could close the distance, wielding stun sticks.
She dropped her pistol and brought out her staff, just blocking the first strike, before the second hit her in the side. She gasped, letting out the air she was holding in, and forcing her to take a second breath of the poisoned air. She struck a weak blow to one attacker, who retaliated with a blow of his own, from his stun stick.
He heard Kaydia cry out, felt the stun sticks impacting her as consciousness fled. His heart leapt into his throat, and he mentally repeated the litany as he ignited his plasma blade, struggling for calm. It wasn't easy. Even unconscious her dread and terror burned in his mind, and he shook with adrenaline and rage as the first of the pirates entered the
Scrapper's "lounge"
That pirate died as he called on psionics to slam him into the bulkhead with a bone-shattering impact. "Shit!" shouted a mask-distorted voice. "Justiciar!"
Another wave of dizziness hit Quentin –the gas, seeping in through his pores. If he didn't end this quickly, or at least get out of the gas, he'd go down. So he charged the hallway, deflecting stun charges with his plasma blade. The closest pirate tried desperately to parry with a stunstick, and the luminous silver blade sheared through weapon and torso without slowing. As the corpse fell he struck out with psionics, hurling three more pirates backwards.
A stun bolt struck his shoulder, causing his plasma blade to drop from nerveless fingers. As he called it back to his left hand, two more bolts struck his chest. One sent numbness across his torso and the other fused his breather. An involuntary deep breath, caused by the stinging pain of the stunner, filled his lungs with the gas. He went down, numb arm failing him as he tried to catch himself on hands and knees.
He barely felt the torrent of stun beams that struck him.