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Star Wars: Eclipse of the Black Sun (The Corsair, Xanaphia)

Linora’s thighs gripped Scarlet’s head, squeezing tighter as she bucked against the fingers and tongue filling her depths. Her chrome fingers slid from her pussy to tangle in Scarlet’s hair, trying to pull her skilled mouth closer. Her own eager cries of pleasure were muffled by Scarlet’s cunt, but her jerking body and the building wordless ecstasy radiating out through the Force left no doubt that she was close.

Quentin leaned forward, supporting his weight with one hand as he gripped a fist full of flame-colored hai with the other. “Fuck me,” he growled, unsure and uncaring if he was speaking for Linora or himself. His hips jerked rhythmically, pumping into Scarlet’s ass and making her body bounce with each thrust. “Make me cum. Make me cum with you.”

A muffled whimper of unbearable pleasure escaped between Scarlet’s thighs as Linora sucked her clit, and then her body spawned as the delirious rapture of her orgasm flooded the Force around them. Quentin jerked uncontrollably and roared out the triumph that Linora couldn’t, his orgasm mingling with hers as his cock pumped hot cum deep into Scarlet’s ass.

Finally, gasping for breath, he toppled to his side. His semi-hard dick spurted across Scarlet’s back as he slipped from her, and a final pearly jet splattered across his stomach as he hit the mattress. “Fuck,” he gasped, lungs straining. “I think you killed me.”
 
"Fuck… I think you killed me."

Scarlet laughed, a breathy chuckle that covered her heaving breaths, "I told you, it's not just heart attacks after sex. Sometimes I drain every last drop…" She leaned over to kiss Quentin, giving Linora space to crawl out from beneath her. With Linora sitting up, beside her, she craned to neck to kiss her as well, but stopped short with a hiss of pain.

"Regardless, we are going to need to establish some rules between us three. Like, you both can't pull my hair at the same, and you especially can't pull my hair in opposite directions," she complained playfully, falling in between Quentin and Linora, "I can bend a lot of ways, but I can't bend both way at once." With a tug on her living arm, Scarlet pulled Linora down beside her, and kissed her then, sharing and savoring the musky flavors of their mutual pleasure.

Once the kiss broke, movement in the shadows caught her eye, and twisted, hateful grins seizing her heart. No one was there, of course, no one living. Shades of memory, not real threats, but she couldn't easily convince her paranoid mind or her pounding heart of that fact. Instead she gripped Quentin's arm tighter around her waist, and hooked her legs between Linora's. "So what's the plan? After we secure our position here, I mean. You've promised revenge…"
 
Sensing apprehension, Linora’s eyes flickered towards the edges of the room as well. There was nothing there. Nothing but the ghosts that Scarlet battled, at least. Ghosts that, she was sure, motivated Scarlet’s question. “The plan is… vague,” she admitted, snuggling in. “Consolidating my - our - position has taken all my attention.”

Quentin yawned, then reached out with the Force. “I thought you were already in charge,” he said, opening the bottle of water he’d called to his hand.

“Not quite,” Linora replied. “I’m in the best position, but Black Sun hasn’t confirmed it yet.” She smiled without humor. “They like to let things work themselves out when a Vigo gets assassinated.”

Quentin drained half the bottle at one go. “Survival of the fittest?”

“Something like that.” She stole the bottle from Quentin, took a swig, and offered it to Scarlet. “So my plan is to invite all the Family heads on Mustafar to a… call it a party, I guess.” She chuckled. “And then kill someone as a show of force.”

“Who?” Quentin asked.

“Dunno, yet. That’s the problem.” Sighing, she tossed the empty bottle back and burrowed back into Scarlet’s arms. “I can’t get any agents into the other Families to find out who’s actively plotting against me.”

Quentin thought for a moment, then snickered. “You don’t need to.”

“What?”

“At dinner, just announce that one of the assembled guests is plotting against you.” He laughed. “Pick the plot details out of the mind of the guiltiest person - or from the person you like the least - and lay them out. Brutally kill that person and anyone who moves to defend them, and thank everyone else for their loyalty.” Another laugh. “Then reward them all with parts of the dead person’s operations. After keeping the best of it for yourself.”

“Not bad,” Linora said after a moment. “Not bad at all.”
 
"You want to compete in the Arena Av Lilla?" Hal-Jakan eyed Aurianna speculatively, cybernetic and organic eyes tracing her curves. "You're certain? You do know how those matches end, don't you?"

"I am prepared to take his investigation wherever it leads." Aurianna stood firm, hands behind her back, feet shoulder-width apart, a pose emphasizing her strength and sensuality all at once. "My feelings on the matter will not get in the way of that."

Hal-Jakan chuckled, "I admire your dedication. I hope you understand that my gladiators cannot not go easy on you."

"I'd be quite offended if they did!" It was Aurianna's turn to laugh, "I am a Jedi knight, after all. I imagine one on one isn't quite fair."

Hal-Jakan shrugged. "Fairness in these bouts isn't as important as entertainment. That's my main concern."

"Then let's make it entertaining. Two on one? Three on one?" Aurianna stepped closer, close enough he could feel her heat against his body. She wasn't adept at using her sexuality to get her way, but she was confident it had the intended effect. "I'll leave that up to you."

"I know you won't disappoint," Hal Jakan murmured, his breath tickling her face. "Ellora, I trust you'll get her prepared."

"Gladly," she redhead acknowledged, rising from her chair. She beckoned Aurianna with a wordless nod of her head, and led the Jedi out of the office, and down the hall. She didn't speak again until she led her into a small room, like an infirmary. "First things first: on your knees."

Aurianna blinked, and swallowed hard. Sure, she'd just agreed to participate in a sex fight before a crowd, but she didn't expect to get right into… well, whatever Ellora was suggesting. Demanding? "What?"

Ellora must have sensed her discomfort, based on the lopsided smirk on her face. "You're tall, and I need to get a needle in your neck."

"Right," Aurianna nodded, and gathered her hair on the other side of her shoulders, before kneeling beside the redhead. "What's in it?"

"Vaccines mostly." Ellora snapped on a pair of vinyl gloves. "Most of the gladiators also service members of the public, even if they cater to a wealthier demographic. Vaccines are the best way to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted disease."

That all made sense, and she could tell Ellora wasn't lying about that, but she was hiding something. "Yeah, I understand that. Anything else I need to know about?"

"It also contains nano-transmitters that attach to your nerves." Ellora explained, as she measured out a dose. "That's what translates pain sensations into pleasure sensations."

Aurianna nodded; Lysa had told her about them. Crooking her head, she gave Ellora access to her neck. "Right. How do I control them?"

"You'll get a remote. I recommend leaving it only with someone you trust. You aren't going to have time to adjust it during a match."


Scarlet didn't enjoy playing the role of eye-candy this evening. It wasn't usually an issue, but after everything she'd gone through, the feel of predatory eyes on her made her skin crawl. She didn't even get the benefit of knowing she would get to kill someone before the night was over. That was Linora's role, this time around, to secure her position as a respected and feared Vigo. It was better to keep her own skills a secret, such that only her victims knew of what she was truly capable.

The only thing that had made any of it worth it was Quentin, and the way she kept catching him glance at her from across the room. The promise in his gaze –the hunger– excited her. They both knew it would be easy for him to drag her into a nearby hallway, and fuck her against the wall. He wouldn't even need to remove her dress, just bunch it over her hips, and slip between the high-cut slit to reach her own dripping slit beneath. They could sneak off at any time, and sneak back before anyone noticed their absence.

She wasn't the only eye candy this evening. Linora had several brothels under her, besides the Velvet Spire, and even had plans for new venture, the Silken Siren: a fancy cruiser that would allow her passengers the company of lovely escorts for the duration of the trip. That fact that it would be easy cover for smuggling operations was just a bonus. Regardless, the room was filled with beautiful men and women, enough to feel like she wasn't out of place. Still, she doubted any of them could kill a person with their mind. A fantasy she nursed alongside her champagne, making it easy to smile and giggle at the greasy mook who currently chatted her up.
 
She allowed a moment for further questions, tapping the syringe to make sure there were no air bubbles in it. "After the initial injection," Ellora continued, "you'll have between six and eight hours of intermittent synesthesia, while the nanotransmitters replicate and attach to your nerves. I'm told chromesthesia and lexical-gustatory synesthesia is the most common, followed by audio-tactile synesthesia and misophonia. It's strongly recommended that someone you trust help you get back to your room and lie down until the effects fade."

Placing the syringe back on the tray, she swept Aurianna's long black hair over one shoulder to expose the back of her neck. There was a click and a hum, and the tingling sensation of an antiseptic beam played over the base of her skull. "I'm told that the injection is deeply uncomfortable," she said, recovering the syringe. "It goes into the foramen magnum, so the nanotransmitters can most efficiently circulate through your central nervous system." She pushed Aurianna's head forward with t=her free hand, placing the Jedi into a pose like a mockery of prayer. Then there was the pricking sensation of the needle touching her skin. "Last chance. You still in?"

With that she drove the needle in, puncturing skin and muscle. After an impossibly long instant, it stopped with the syringe flush on her skin. Ellora depressed the plunger smoothly, sending a concentrated stream of vaccines and nanomachines into the fluids of her spine like a jet of ice water. Then the needle withdrew, with the sensation of the letter "k" spiking into her flesh. "There you go," Ellora informed her, tossing the needle into a sanitizer. "All set. You'll really start noticing the side effects in ten minutes or so, and they'll hit maximum potency in about two hours. And don't try using your Jedi training to flush them and get through it sooner," she added, patting Aurianna's shoulder playfully. "That'll actually keep them from taking proper hold, and you'll just have to go through it all over again."

-*-

Unlike Scarlet, Linora wasn't dressed to be eye-candy. She'd chosen a tailored black skirt and pearl-grey blouse, and black gloves concealing her flesh and metal hands. It still looked good, she knew, but still professional. "Sexy ball-breaker," Quentin had dubbed the look, which was essentially the air she was trying to project. Feminine, but strong and ruthless enough to keep and hold the position she'd claimed on Mustafar. Sexy, but willing to step over the cooling body of anyone stupid enough to cross her.

The sleek black lightsaber hilt hanging at her side on a silver chain helped reinforce that impression. Everyone in the room - everyone that mattered, at least - knew that Vigo Linora Sunfell was a former Jedi Knight, after all. It helped reinforce the fear she wanted her subordinates to feel when they considered crossing her.

For the moment, though, she had to play hostess. Scarlett was busy talking to Van Diree, who ran the southside gambling and narcotics trade. Not the brothels - he was smart enough to know he wasn't any good at that part of the business, and so he left that to Biala Kovon, his partner and mistress. Their relationship was strong, but he also fancied himself a ladies' man. Give him credit for courage, anyway, since he knew who Scarlett was. Give him credit for brains as well - both for chatting up the sexiest woman in the room and for knowing his best bet was backing her.

And speaking of sexy, there was Quentin in an incongruous white suit serving as eye candy for Tiphane Salas, the deceptively cute and perky leg breaker who ran protection and extortion rackets and dabbled in kidnapping and trafficking. Watch out for her, she warned him.

Quentin’s response was a dismissive mental sensation that, had it been vocalized, would have been an offended snort.

Pulling her attention back to the present, she stepped to the top of the stairs and paused for effect. In response a sea of pitiless eyes sized her up, all of them weighing the benefits and risks of trying to kill her. Let them. Because, by the end of the night, all of them would know exactly where they stood in the power structure.

Is it too late to just kill them all, and then promote people I can trust? she asked her lovers.

And who would that be? came Quentin’s sardonic reply.

Chuckling a little, she descended the stairs. Let the games begin.
 
Hey, don't tempt me with a good time, Scarlet called back through their bond. She allowed herself a giggle, and allowed her companion to think that giggle had anything to do with what he'd said.

Of course, if she actually wanted to make her lovers jealous, she'd had to do better than a greasy drug peddler. But all the attractive men at the party were already under employed under Linora.

Well, except one. Tall, sharp features and piercing eyes. Almost intimidating, which was saying something, in a room full of violent and powerful criminals. And yet, that was a draw too

And yet, he was almost familiar, as if she were on the verge of recognizing him. Had she seen him with the Black Sun ruling council? She done a few jobs for the big bosses, but that had been years ago, and she didn't think she'd seen him then. But where? When? The question gnawed at her, and yet eluded her, unable to be found in her empty glass.

But at least it was an out to excuse herself from Van Diree, and wander near the mysterious stranger. Their eyes meet for a moment, recollection yet thwarting her, until he spoke, and she recognized the last thing she ever expected.

"Depreciates the sight;
But, 'til the merchant buy,
Still fabled, in the isles of spice
The subtle cargoes lie."

The lines were from a poem, a poem she found herself surprised to recall. Seizing on the opportunity, she recited the last stanza back to him.

"At least, 'tis mutual risk,
Some found it mutual gain;
Sweet debt of Life, each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon."

"I see you're not just a pretty face," the handsome stranger remarked, offering her a fresh glass of champagne.

"Not just a pretty face. I also have a great pair of tits." Scarlet smirked, taking a long sip from her flute, and allowing the man a moment to appreciate at her ample cleavage. "But I have to admit, I am surprised to find someone reciting Emyla D'xenso lines. Are you a fan of early republic poetry, or did you just memorize the one romantic verse to impress women?"

He laughed, his voice deep and drawing her in, like a black hole, ever consuming, before beginning other poem.

"If only he could touch her,
Her name like an old wish
In the stopped weather of salt
On a snail."

Her breath hitched as she recognized the lines, a favorite piece from her previous life. Before she abandoned duty for desire. Before she took up her bloody alias. Nearly unbidden, the next lines came to her lips.

"He longs to be words,
Juicy as passionfruit
On her tongue. He'd do anything,
Would dance three days & nights
To make the most terrible gods

Rise out of ashes of the yew,
To step from the naked
Fray, to be as tender
As meat imagined off

The bluegill's pearlish
Bones."

He stepped closer as she spoke, close enough to feel his champagne scented breath tickle her face, close enough for the linen of his fine suit to whisper over the silk of her dress. He placed a small fruit in her hand, as he finished the poem.

"He longs to be
An orange, to feel fingernails
Run a seam through him."

"You certainly have good taste in filthy poetry," she breathed, eyes never leaving his. Briefly, she wondered how open her lovers were to inviting another man into bed with them. She bit into the fruit he'd handed her, its juices filling her mouth and dripping down her chin as she swallowed with a soft moan. Lightly, she patted her mouth clean, and offered her hand.

"Scarlet. And you are?"
 
“Scarlet. And you are?”

“Enchanted,” he replied with a sly smile, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. He lingered ever so slightly, tasting the juice on her skin. “And all her face was honey to my mouth,
“And all her body pasture to mine eyes.”

Van Diree started to say something, then stopped and shrugged. The mystery man didn’t acknowledge his departure. Instead he took a step closer, his body brushing against hers as if they were dancing. “And hardly filthy,” he added, looking into her eyes over the hand he still held. “Passionate? Yes. Glorious? Certainly. But filthy? Only those ashamed of their desires would find them filthy.”

He leaned slightly forward, filling her personal space. His voice was low and husky when he spoke, intended for her ears alone. “The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire
“The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
“The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
“And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.”

The smile flashed again, lightning quick. “Why would such beauty, such exquisite expression of such a fundamental human need, be filthy?” Still holding her hand, his free hand lighted on the swell of her hip, softly exploring the feel of her skin through the thin silk. “Rather, it should be celebrated.”

-*-

Quentin glanced over at Scarlet, and at the man standing possessively close to her. He was big, probably six and a half feet tall, but not heavy. Dark suit, dark hair, dark eyes that focused on Scarlet with a possessive hunger. Quentin couldn’t blame him for that, not really. But, and this was the troublesome part, he didn’t recognize the man. He certainly wasn’t in the dossier of attendees.

Linora?

Across the room, Linora was talking to Vasec Tor, an up-and-coming pimp and racketeer. Yes? she replied, not shifting her attention.

Who’s talking to Scarlet? I don’t recognize him?

He watched Linora glance over. Matthias Kel-Van. He’s an observer, sent by the Black Sun’s ruling council to see what happens when I declare myself.

Just then, Tiphane spoke up. “Hey, come get a drink with me. I’m buying.”

“It’s an open bar,” he replied.

“Good,” she grinned. “Maybe I can get you drunk enough to forget about the boss tonight.”
 
"Unfortunately, some of us were raised in an environment that discouraged our exploration of the beauty and passion of this fundamental human need. Some of us had to steal away into libraries, alone, to enjoy the poetry of Alzeron S'wynbur." And yet others ignored the repressive teachings of the Jedi to fuck in that very library. An amusing thought that led her to wonder if she been reading sensual poetry at the same time her now lovers were exploring their own hungering libido.

And, to be quite honest with herself, if a handsome older man had been whispering erotic lines to her then? She too might have let him pin her to a book shelf eager thigh spread open for his curious hands or his throbbing cock. It took the rest of her glass of champagne to wash the fantasy from her mind.

"But I don't think any of us are here because we we're well adjusted," she suggested placing her empty flute on a passing droid's tray, without looking away from the handsome stranger. His response was to lean in closer, and recite the rest of the poem to her. The rhythm of his words echoing the pounding of her heart and flowing like her own coursing blood to coil and twist in her core.

The smile flashed again, lightning quick. "Why would such beauty, such exquisite expression of such a fundamental human need, be filthy?" Still holding her hand, his free hand lighted on the swell of her hip, softly exploring the feel of her skin through the thin silk. "Rather, it should be celebrated."

"And, how should it be celebrated?" Scarlet asked, her bare leg brushing against his thigh as she moved with him, seamlessly transitioning into dancing, with one arm going up around his muscular shoulders. She could hardly hear the music over her own heartbeat, but her feet still kept the tempo, and the lines of another poem, by the same poet, fit the measure of the melody.

"O my fair lord, I charge you leave me this:
It is not sweeter than a foolish kiss?
Nay take it then, my flower, my first in June,
My rose, so like a tender mouth it is:
Ah God, ah God, that day should be so soon. "

He dipped her, low, and her bare leg wrapped around his waist to steady herself. Oh, but for a few inches of scant silk, he would have known she wore nothing else beneath her dress. Nothing but frank desire, that was, slick between her legs. His hand, strong with thick, powerful fingers, gripped her ass, pulling her hips closer to his. They fit together like a puzzle, her supple body molding perfectly to his firm physique. Pulling her back to her feet, her own arms reached around his neck, pulling herself closer, leaving only their fine attire separating them.

"How do we do justice to such exquisite expressions of passion and pleasure?"
 
He pulled her close at the question, one leg sliding between hers as he danced, letting her feel his hardened shaft against her thigh. “Where do we start?” he asked, eyes burning with hunger. “Ah, one thing worth beginning,
“One thread in life worth spinning,
“Ah sweet, one sin worth sinning
“With all the whole soul's will.”

With that he dipped her, letting her bend backwards over his sun until her flame-red hair brushed the floor. And then he pulled her back up and into his arms, her body pressed close against his. “To lull you till one stilled you,” he breathed, his lips not touching hers. “To kiss you till one killed you,
“To feed you till one filled you,
“Sweet lips, if love could fill.”

He spun her out and reeled her in, his chest against her back and his hips against her ass, his arms catching her in an embrace tight beneath her breasts. “To hunt sweet Love and lose him
“Between white arms and bosom.”

His hands molded hers against her ribs and slid them slowly down her silk-sheathed body. His lips traced her ear and jaw and throat without touching her skin. “Between the bud and blossom,
“Between your throat and chin;
“To say of shame—what is it?
“Of virtue—we can miss it;
“Of sin—we can but kiss it,
“And it's no longer sin.”

Another spin, his hand bringing hers up and over her head, whirling her fast and tight before him. “To feel the strong soul, stricken
“Through fleshly pulses, quicken
“Beneath swift sighs that thicken,
“Soft hands and lips that smite,” he breathed, pulling by her against him once more with strong hands gripping the flare of her hips. “Lips that no love can tire,
“With hands that sting like fire,
“Weaving the web Desire
“To snare the bird Delight.”

With that his lips brushed hers. Not a kiss, precisely. A simple caress that promised more. “Perhaps,” he breathed, voice barely audible over the scattering of applause as the music died, “we may discuss Master S'wynbur’s works and n more detail later?”

And then he released her, turning and approaching one of the other guests.
 
Scarlet never been on this side of the seduction before. Oh sure, she'd been hit on plenty. Pursued often. But seduced? Not like this. Not in a way where she wasn't in control. She'd done it often. It wasn't enough to get the target interested. They needed to be entranced. Enthralled. Capitivated. They needed to forget the rest of the world existed.

Neither her padawan self, nor her assassin side could have imaged this night, as if it were a fantasy pulled directly from her deepest subconscious. Dancing in the arms of a handsome stranger while he whispered lurid poetry into her ear.

Clearly he'd wanted her too. She felt that, and if it weren't for his pants, she might have felt even more than that. And still, he left her wanting, dripping and needy. Her skin flushed, nearly as red as her hair or dress. Fuck, she needed a drink. Or air. Or a hot mouth, devouring hers, while a hard cock split her open.

Quentin was at the bar, with another woman. Pretty and hanging on his every word. No, she didn't want to bother him. Didn't want to come off as desperate –even if she was. But she met his eyes across the bar, just resisting the urge to call to him in the force, to beg for him. Instead she took her drink from the bartender and walked away, leaving the dining hall for the balcony.

The evening breeze caressed her heated skin, offering the barest modicum of relief. Not near enough. She drank deeply of her drink, ice clinking against the ferrocrystal glass until she drained it. Still not enough. With a sigh, she leaned against a column and looked out over the twinkling lights of the city beneath them.

It was going to be a long night.
 
As huge a pan in the ass as Jedi training had been, Linora frequently found herself grateful for everything she’d learned. Even after departing the Order in a hurried fashion, she’d found any number of uses for her abilities with the Force. And for the mental discipline the Order instilled, as well. For example, there was right now. Frustrated arousal was rolling off Scarlet like thunderclouds, and only her training let her focus at all.

“And so,” Vassic was saying, “I’m trying something a little different. Some of the others, they use coercion, you know? Kidnapping to acquire girls, and drugs to keep them.”

“I’ve heard, yes,” Linora replied, forcing herself to ignore the way Scarlet’s hunger made her hard nipples scrape against he bra with every breath, and the ache between her thighs. “I’ve never…”

“Yes, yes,” Vassic agreed, nodding and gesturing. “Black Sun cares for profit, not technique. But I find that girls who want to hook will, ah, produce better. So I make films, yea? And the talented ones, I offer additional work - cam work, live shows, and so on. With a small commission, you understand?”

“A commission?” She was interested, but with Scarlet in the back of her mind it was all she could do to not climb on top of Vassic, and that just would not do. You don’t shag your employees, after all. But damn he looked tasty… Quentin?

-*-

“…and so I broke his other arm,” Tiphane laughed. “Serves him right, too.”

Quentin snorted. “No kidding. He really said that?”

“Yep.” She rolled her eyes and downed the last of her beer. “Seriously. ‘They couldn’t have sent a man?’ Tosser.” Putting the mug down, she selected a mineral water. “So, you busy after this?”

It was tempting. Fuck, it was tempting. He’d been hard as a rock ever since they started talking, and she’d noticed the way his gaze kept lingering on the hint of cleavage exposed by her shirt. More than noticed, really. She’d leaned in and arched her back a little, making the most of her compact bust. “Dunno,” he temporized. “Depends on what the boss needs.”

“I bet it does,” she leered. “I heard about your… interview.” She looked him over, eyes lingering on the erection tight in his pants. “And I tell you what: get me drunk enough, and I’ll help you out if she needs you.”

“I… drunk?” He tried to push aside the thought of railing this compact little bundle of aggression while Linora watched, and fuck why was he so horny?

“I’m pretty straight when sober, and enthusiastically bi when drunk,” she laughed.

“Isn’t that just bisexual?” Quentin asked.

“Probably. But it gets me hot playing like I’m getting taken advantage of by a predatory lesbian.” She took a swig of her mineral water. “Or a predatory guy, really. My kink is pretending to get date raped, I guess.”

“Really?” Fuck, that sounded hot.

Quentin?

Yes? he replied.

Would you do something about Scarlet? She’s making it hard to think. Fucking throw some ice water on her or something.

Is that why I’m distractingly horny right now?

Yes. And you aren’t the only one. I don’t ever remember it being this intense before.

Combining the three of seems to have strengthened our Force bonds. He rose. I’ll see what I can do.

“Boss calling?” Tiphane asked.

“How could you tell?” he replied, curious.

She tapped her head. “I’ve seen other people react to her spooky witch magic.” She grinned. “Be sure to find me later.” The grin got wider. “I’ll be drinking.”

Quentin laughed and waved as he left. Then he followed Kaydia’s radiating emotions, and the path he’d seen her take when she left the bar. Finally he located her on a balcony, leaning against a column and nursing a drink as she stared out over the lights of the city and the distant red glow of the lava sea. The night breeze molded her dress against her body, displaying her without showing her.

“Hey,” he said. She turned slightly, green eyes reflecting the ruddy glow of the distant lava. He might have said more, but then all he was aware of was the inkling clatter of her tumble hitting the ground, and her body supple under his hands as he pushed her into the pillar, and the sharp taste of alcohol as his tongue pushed between her lips and invaded her mouth. His fingers gripped and pulled, slowly dragging her dress up her thighs as he bunched it around her hips.
 
In that moment, he could have been anyone.

Scarlet barely registered Quentin before she was on him, hungry lips devouring his mouth. She pulled him to her, fingers fisting in his lapels and her leg wrapped around his thigh. With her skirt bunched up over her hips, her bare skin slid over his smooth slacks, and she could grind herself on his stiff cock. Fuck, she needed him inside her, now!

"Fuck me," she rasped, her voice carrying in the quiet of the balcony. They weren't alone here, even if most of the partygoers were still inside the banquet hall, and her lustful cry had attracted all of their attention. Scarlet didn't care, not right now, straining between them to reach his pants and free his deliciously swollen cock.


"A commission?" Linora asked, fingering her shiny pearl necklace as she tried to focus on anything but the ravenous heat between her thighs.

"Just 15%, off the top, for connecting the girls with the clients." Vassic explained, his eyes following her fingers, and then lower, towards the shadowed cleavage exposed by her top. "See, the films bring in a decent amount of money, but what they really bring in is attention. Wealthy fans who are willing to pay big bucks for an introduction to their favorite actress."

"Right," Linora murmured. But her mind returned to the holovid she's created, of Quentin and Kaydia together. Of Quentin pinning her to the wall, as he stroked a breathless orgasm from her. Just like he was now, pinning her to the pillar on the balcony and gathering her dress in bunches over her hips. Dammit! That was the last thing she needed, to feel them fuck madly through their bond, while she was stuck in here playing hostess.

"Maybe it starts off as some cam shows, where big tippers can make special requests. Then it's private shows, and by the time the client is ready for an in-person session, the girl is making so much money she doesn't want to say no."

"Sounds… sounds hot." Linora had to swallow down a moan that threaten to escape, as she felt Quentin grind his hard cock as Scarlet, as she felt Scarlet pull him tighter to her, as if trying to fuck him through their clothes. "Sounds like you have a hot business model there. Gorgeous, eager women, ready to… to fuck…I mean service clientele."

By now, more than a few guests gathered near the balcony, and if she let this go on any longer, half the party would be watching her lovers fuck like wild animals.

Dammit, that's not what I meant. She sent to them, unsure if it would penetrate either's lust drunk mind, We still have a job to do here.



Opening Quentin's pants proved challenging, while he pinned to the wall with his weight and feasted on her lips. He nearly had her dress pulled up over her ass now, his hand gripping her bare thigh as he pulled her tighter against him. She was moments from ripping his slack open, when Linora's words reached her.

They should stop, she knew. Turning this party into an orgy wasn't part of the plan, but fuck if Scarlet could tear herself away from Quentin in this moment. And worse, over his shoulder, she could see the gathering crowd forming around them. Including her mysterious stranger, who whispered erotic filth into her ear until she was a mess of dripping lust and burning need. He was looking right at her, she knew, with a knowing smirk growing on his lips.
 
Quentin’s hands slid over and up her thighs, and he groaned at the contrast between the smooth silk of her bare thighs and the smooth silk of her bunched up skirts. His fingers sought her panties, desperate to drag them down so he could press into the dripping heat he could feel through the Force. Was she wearing any? Or had she planned to be fucked like this?

“Fuck me,” she rasped, then groaned as his teeth scraped her throat. He bit and sucked a trail along her carotid artery, feeling the blood pulsing just beneath. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned in reply, pressing harder into her as her bare calf tightened on his ass.

She made a hungry sound of frustration as she pushed her hands between them, awkwardly tugging at his belt. There wasn’t room to open it, or to reach his zipper, but she strained to reach it anyway. He shifted, then cried out as her hands slipped and squeezed his rigid shaft instead.

Dammit, that's not what I meant. Linora’s communication was laced with irritation and frustration and more lust, We still have a job to do here.

“Maybe, maybe we should stop?” Quentin husked. He stared into Scarlet’s lust-filled green eyes, and saw the reflection of the audience that had gathered. “We have company.” As he spoke he slid his hands over and around, cupping her bare rear and drawing her tighter.

-*-

Linora glared as she stomped through the ballroom towards the balcony, working hard to build up her anger. Anger to counter the lust crackling along her nerves and pooling in her loins. Because if she didn’t counter it, she’d tear her and their clothes off and join them, and that would wreck her efforts to claim the title of Vigo.

It would be hard, at best, to demand the respect of power-hungry people that had watched her fuck. Even if she invited them to join her and…

Stop. That, she told herself sternly.

“Nothing to see here,” she growled as she reached the knot of spectators. “And we’re seating for dinner now.” Her brown eyes net the gaze of each of them in turn. “Now.”

After a moment, they turned and walked away. The last, Matthias Kel-Van (and fuck it was easy to imagine riding him long and hard) gave a wry smile and an ironic salute with two fingers before strolling off. Breathing deep, struggling to control herself, she finally rounded on her lovers. “Fucking hell,” she hissed, straining not to shout. “This isn’t the fucking Temple, and you two aren’t fucking teenagers. Try to hold in together until we’re done her, all right?”
 
"Maybe, maybe we should stop," Quentin husked. "We have company."

"Let them watch you fuck me senseless," Scarlet breathed, gripping his cock over his pants again. Just another inch, and she could get his zipper down. Just another inch, and he'd be caressing her dripping slit. Them, nothing could keep Quentin from fucking her. Not even these stupid fucking pants that won't just open ALREADY!

But the crowd dispersed, and Linora hovered near. "Fucking hell," she hissed, straining not to shout. "This isn't the fucking Temple, and you two aren't fucking teenagers. Try to hold in together until we're done her, all right?"

Scarlet leered at Linora, trying to control her lust. Trying to control her rage, because she was ready to fight Linora off, in order to fuck Quentin. Or just throw the bossy bitch on the ground, and fuck her hard, shove her whole fist into Linora.

Dinner couldn't begin to sate her hunger. No, she was far more interested in getting thrown down on the table, skirt hiked up so everyone could see just how wet she was. Maybe with her mysterious stranger between her thighs, using her cunt for his pleasure. Her head would hang over the other side, giving Quentin room to fuck her mouth and throat. Fuck, the thought of it, of both men, taking her together, plowing her from both sides?

At least there was a full glass of wine waiting for her at her seat. She forced herself to sit, crossing her legs to distract herself from her mounting need. This caused the slit in her dress to ride up her thighs, but she didn't care, right now. Half the party had already watched her grind against one man, before sneaking off to make out with another. Which was probably why the man seated next to her was trying to chat her up. Wasn't hard to get lucky with such a wanton whore.

"I believe you're in my seat." The tone of the words made Scarlet's ears perk up, carrying an unspoken command in the stressed syllables. It was the handsome stranger, of course, his expression amicable, at odds with the authority in his words.

"Uh, yeah," the man agreed, his voice distant, as if not entirely present. Confusion scowled his features, but still, he pushed away from the table, and walked towards another empty seat.

"Come to discuss more poetry?" she murmured, before drinking deep of her wine to cover the flush that crawled up her skin.
 
Quentin watched the lust-filled tension between his two lovers, and fight hard to control the urge to shut Linora up with his cock. Because she was right. They had work to do, after all, and this was not the time to relieve the tension in his aching meat. So he forced himself to turn to the gathered spectators, draw himself up straight, and then bow dramatically.

The applause was gratifying. Not what he really wanted, but gratifying. As we’re the speculative looks several of the women tossed him. “You’re too kind,” he assured them all. “And now that you’ve enjoyed the floor show…”

“That’s what she said!” called some would-be comedian.

“Now that you’ve enjoyed the floor show,” he repeated, “we should adjourn to the dining room.” With that he offered Linora and Scarlet his arms and rather heroically escorted them to their seats instead of upstairs and maybe as far as Linora’s bedroom.

Despite the three of them obviously being together, Linora had spaced them along the table. As host, she sat at the head. Scarlet sat about a third of the way down, and Quentin found himself sitting about two-thirds of the way along between the racketeer Mauzac Simsvel and the drug dealer Victvan Satal. Next to Victvan sat his trophy wife Calle, and Tiphane sat directly across from him. She winked, then went back to chatting with Vasec.

“Mind if I ask you a question?” Mauzac asked.

“Nope,” Quentin replied. “Now, I don’t guarantee I’ll answer…”

Mauzac laughed. “Fair. We’re the two of you supposed to be the floor show?”

Quentin shook his head. “No. Just, ag, got a little carried away.”

Maustric nodded, looking down the table at Scarlet. “I can see why. But you may want to look lively, then.” He pointed out the man taking the seat by her. “You may have a rival.”

-*-

“Poetry?” Matthias offered a small smile, watching the flush wash across Scarlet’s face and throat. “We could do that, yes.”

Lifting his fluted glass, he examined the ay the light poured through the dark liquid within. “I must say that I was surprised to meet someone familiar with the works of Alzeron S'wynbur. He’s mostly forgotten by the scholars of the Republic. Although, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was suppressed?”

As if satisfied with what he saw, he sipped lightly at the wine. “He was, for example, a connoisseur of the boundary between eros and dolor. His poems fairly dripped with descriptions of the agony of erotic desire and the ecstasy that pain could bring, and the boundaries where they blur together. Rather too much for the repressed literary elite of the so-called High Republic.”

He turned slightly, letting his eyes linger on a creamy expanse of bared thigh before slowly caressing her figure as they drifted upwards. “I stumbled across a bound first edition of his Collected Works in an antiquarian bookstore on Zeltron II, and was enchanted. May I ask how you came to know his writing?”
 
Scarlet knew she should be offended by the way the mysterious stranger undressed her with his eyes, but truly, she was more offended that he was only using his eyes. Her silk dress burned as it slid over bare skin, and she longed to tear it away.

It might have been easier to pull her mind out of her cunt if they had a drier subject to discuss, but the sensual poetry he brought just made her remember her teenaged years, and her desperate attempts to control her budding desire. Combined with her current unfulfilled lust, Scarlet was utterly frustrated. Still, she managed a light tone as she spoke.

"I did some volunteer work for one of the great libraries on Core. They were implementing a system cataloguing system, and needed volunteers to compile and categorize all of the contents. So I choose to work on the poetry section. Most of it was flowery and grandiose, but the works of Alzeron S'wynbur rather spoke to me."

Unconsciously, her fingers traced the plunging neckline of her dress, and she continued. "The themes of desire as agony resonated with my repressed upbringing. Admittedly, I read his works as being metaphorical, that sexual desire was a form of physical agony. That maybe just be a relic of my inexperienced youth, however, as pain and pleasure seemed rather incompatible, at the time." She finished her glass of wine, and held it out to be refilled by a passing droid, "Perhaps they would read differently to me now."

Daring, brought up by an unquenched arousal, she leaned in closer to the handsome stranger, close enough to small his cologne, "Where would you suggest I start exploring S'wynbur's intermingling of dolor and eros?"



It was almost too bad the floor show had been cut short, Tiphane decided. It would have been hot to watch Quentin rail the buxom redhead. And maybe – maybe– things would get heated enough she could slip in after they finish, and suck her taste from his cock. Just enough to get him hard again, so she could take a turn riding that thick cock. Surely the kind of man with two lovers had amazing stamina, right?

Stretching, just a little, she found his leg under the table with her foot. Or, at least she hoped it was his leg, but hell, she was getting a little tipsy already and found it hard to care about mixed signal much. But he tore his gaze away from his lover down the table, and she held his eyes while she finished another beer. And while trailing her toe up his shin and along his thigh.
 
“Reading,” the man replied with a small, knowing smile, “is hardly the best method of exploring S’wynbur’s thesis.” He held his glass out to the droid as well. “He knew this well. His autobiography - the original text, not the one carefully expurgated by Republic censors - is filled with his quest for the union of dolor and eros.”

He sipped his wine, staring into her eyes. “I’m sure you’ve experienced it a time or two. Most do, even if they deny the attraction. The delightful ache of muscles pushed to the limit of their capacity. A bath that is almost, but not quite, too hot.”

He leaned closer as well, capturing the scent of wine on her breath. His fingertips whispered over her silk-covered thigh. “The exquisite moment when a lover holds you at the very edge of release, but does not let you fall over. Or the sting of a crop followed by the soothing caress of a lover’s lips.”

-*-

Quentin just managed not to jump as something trailed up the inside of his leg. His eyes flashed to Tiphane, who had slouched a little lower in her seat. She confirmed his suspicion with a slight smile, and by the way she held her gaze as she downed her beer. Then he considered his response.

“Careful,” he admonished with a smile. “You don’t want to get drunk before dinner’s over.” A pause, and his smile became ever so slightly predatory. “If you pass out, you’ll miss all the fun.”

Victvan chuckled at that. “Not hardly. I’ve never seen her lise control like that.”

A chiming sound echoed from the head of the table, cutting through the buzz of conversation. Linora rose, setting her wine glass and spoon down. “Thank you,” she said, “for attending this party. And I wish that the fun could continue uninterrupted. However, there is business to attend to.”

“You formally stepping into the role of Vigo of Mustafar?” Vasec asked.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But also, there is a traitor among us.” She held up her gloved hand, calling for silence. “Melodramatic, yes. But one of you has betrayed Black Sun.”
 
Scarlet shifted her legs, encouraging and inviting his touch as silk slid over skin. Moreover, she mimicked him, caressing his thigh, high enough that her knuckles brushed against his erection. "Ah, I think I understand. Anticipation that throbs and aches in stiff muscles, assailing one's self control and sanity until nearly consumed?"

Linora struck her glass, drawing the attention of the party. Tension, unease rippled through the air at Linora's declaration, and eyes searched their fellow guests for signs of guilt. Well, nearly everyone, save herself and her mysterious stranger. She already knew what Linora planned to do, afterall. As for the mysterious stranger, he was mildly curious, but far more interested in her. No, the only tension that stirred in his mind mirrored her own.

"Perhaps I should read an unadulterated cope of S'wynbur's autobiography," she considered aloud, brushing thick curls back behind her ear, exposing her neck and clavicle. "If you know what I might find a copy."


"Careful," he admonished with a smile. "You don't want to get drunk before dinner's over." A pause, and his smile became ever so slightly predatory. "If you pass out, you'll miss all the fun."

Tiphane giggled, and accepted another beer from a droid server, "Oh, I'm sure you won't let me miss out on any fun."

Before Quentin could respond, Linora commanded the attention of party. Playing hostess, and making a grave threat. Damn, Linora could be scary. Despite that, however, (or because of that?) she was sexy as hell. Yeah, the alcohol really was kicking in now. Quentin was still wearing that predatory smile, in a way that felt almost dangerous. Fuck, maybe they'd be willing to turn this scenario into a sexy game? The scary, sexy Vigo and her hard muscle-bound thug interrogating her, demanding physical proof of her loyalty to the Black Sun.


Linora swept the table of guests with a stern expression. Letting the tension build in the silence of her accusation. No doubt at least half attendees were sweating right now. Afterall, it was often quite worthwhile to cut the Black Sun out of one's deals, if one could get anyway with it.

She almost wished she could target Matthias. Hitting on her woman, in front of the entire party. She should strike him down, and fuck Scarlet over his bloody corpse, reminding him, her and everyone here that Scarlet was hers.

But, no. He was too well placed in the Black Sun. Untouchable, by anyone but a council member. They'd be better suited by having Scarlet fuck him, and thus cultivating his favor.

Tiphane had also been making eyes at her man, all night long. She seemed more aroused than guilty, but surely there was something to pin on her, if Linora decided to make an example out of her?

No, she'd be more fun as a plaything. Pinned beneath her, while Quentin split her open on his thick cock. Making her lick her clit, while she rode her lover long and hard.

Swallowing hard, Linora pushed the fantasy away. Now was not the time for lust; now was the time for power, for establishing herself. "The Black Sun has been very good to us. Wealth and power and respect. More than any of us could accomplish on our own. But there is no room for patience or mercy for traitors. We all know what much be done."

Again, she let them linger in silence, her gaze stony and stoic. Sinking into their bond, she asked her lovers, Who seems guiltiest to you?
 
Quentin relaxed, allowing the Force to open up to him at Linora’s question. As he did the distractions of the material world fell away, leaving behind only the complex interplay of emotion and connection. Nervousness and tension filled the room, along with a flavoring of attention.

“This is bullshit,” Victvan Satal snapped. “Just some bullshit pretext to get us all worked up.” Folding his arms he leaned back in his chair. “You’d have made a specific charge, if you actually had anything.”

Quentin could see the guilt and fear churning in the man, alchemizing into anger that lashed and tore impotently at Linora. For her part, she was a simmering volcano - quiet now, but ready to erupt without warning.

“Yeah, no shit.” Vasec Tor laughed without humor. “Bad theater, at best.”

That man could be dismissed. There was no real fear in him, except for when his attention turned to the roaring flame and black steel pillar across the table from him - Scarlet and Matthias, the latter apparently far more powerful than Quentin had realized.

“If you have something real, lay it out,” Van Diree sneered. “Otherwise, just shut up and admit you’re bluffing.” He paused, glancing around the table. “And that you aren’t cut out to be Vigo.”

More fear. Fear and anger, roiling and churning. He made a decision. “I had a look at your financials, Van,” he said conversationally, sifting through the memories those words awakened. “They made for interesting reading.”

“Then you know everything’s above board,” Biala snapped. Then she laughed. “I mean, for the kind of business we do.”

“They are,” Quentin agreed absently, focusing on Van’s surface thoughts. “The books he shows you, at any rate. But have you seen…”

“You lying sack of shit!” Van roared. He heaved himself to his feet, shoving the table and sending his chair flying. “I’ll…”

His words were lost in a gurgle as Tiphane vaulted the table, caught his throat in the crook of her arm, and spun over his shoulder. “Manners,” she hissed, putting him in a headlock.

“…his other set of books?” Quentin continued, unperturbed. He caught Biala’s eye. “The ones where he keeps track of the half of his profits he doesn’t tell Black Sun - or you - about?”

Biala’s white face turned ashen. “What..?”

Van sputtered, struggling against Tiphane’s iron grip. The compact redhead hung in grimly as he tossed her about, until she could lick her legs around his waist and drag back hard. Biala and Quentin ignored the display. “He’s been using the money to maintain a house and a mistress on Procera.” He blinked. “One he intends to marry. Once he’s collected a fat reward for turning Republic evidence on your operations.”

Biala turned mechanically, staring at her lover and partner with cold eyes. Her right hand snaked out and clutched a fork. Then she heaved a sigh. “I did love you, you stupid berk,” she murmured.

Van gasped something out, his voice inarticulate under Tiphane’s bicep. And then he screamed as the fork Biale held was buried in his left eye. Tiphane released him with a noise of disgust, shaking her arm to try to get blood and aqueous humor off her sleeve.

Biala rose and looked at Linora. “I had to surrender my weapons at the door. May I borrow one, so I can execute this traitor?”
 
It wasn't until Tiphane locked Van Diree by his throat that Scarlet turned her attention to the performance at hand. Quentin and Linora were certainly making a dramatic showing of all this. She watched the growing fear in Van Diree's eyes with a touch of boredom. It really was a pity she wasn't going to get to kill him.

Even with her eyes on the struggle, however, her hand didn't leave her mysterious stranger's lap. Far bolder than brushing against his stiff cock, she groped him now, appreciating just how hard and thick he was. Fuck, she want to ride him, hard. But, it also might be fun to see if she could make him blow his load, right here at the table.


Linora watched Biala stab Van Diree without betraying her satisfaction. Their eyes met as she rose, "I had to surrender my weapons at the door. May I borrow one, so I can execute this traitor?"

"It is a vigo's duty to punish traitors to the Black Sun. To ensure order and hierarchy," she reminded Biala, eyes and voice stern. She waited a moment, letting the tension build, before smiling, just a little. "But, the Black Sun is generous to its loyal retainers. And if you are going to take over sole proprietorship of your business, you do need to prove your allegiance to the Black Sun." Calling upon the force, she drew a blaster to her hand, and handed it to Biala.

Van Diree hardly had a chance to beg before the blaster powered up, burning a hole through his skull. His corpse slumped over, and immediately to servants stepped forward to remove the body. "Now, with that unpleasant business behind us, let us enjoy our meal."


Tiphane grinned at Quentin, and tugged at her sleeve, still slick with blood. "I really ought to change out of this, before the stain sets in." She followed him upstairs to a spare bedroom, with an attached bath. Entering the bathroom alone, she filled the sink with hot water and removed her dress to soak it. She scrubbed off the blood on her arm with soap

After a moment she reentered the room. This time, however, she was nude, or nearly so, at least, save the lacy panties that barely covered her hips. She cocked a pose, back arched to accentuate her high, perky tits and toned abs. "I told you, I have nothing to hide. I am completely loyal to the Black Sun, and I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you."



Good, now that Linora had completed her desired performance, Scarlet could finally sneak away to get wrecked on some hard cock. But Tiphane was eye fucking Quentin, and he was clearly enjoying the attention. He led the lithe legbreaker up the stairs, and for a moment, Scarlet considered joining them. Oh Quentin certainly wouldn't mind having her as well, and she didn't give a fuck whether Tiphane objected. But no, she wasn't in a mood to share tonight.

"I don't find myself particularly hungry this evening," Scarlet murmured to her handsome stranger, the words an obvious lie, based on the way she gripped his cock through his trousers. "Shall we see if Linora's library contains any of S'wynbur's works?"
 
Biala stood over the smoking, half-headed corpse for a moment. If she felt any sorrow, it didn’t reflect in her chill gaze. She simply watched, impassive, as two servants hoisted the body and bore it away. And when Linora ordered everyone to return to the meal she stood stock still, weighing the blaster in her hand.

Quentin tensed, catching the tenor of her thoughts. Maybe she could make the shot? Make herself Vigo? He watched her muscles lightly tense, and waited for her to move. But when she did, it was to spin the weapon so she was holding it by the barrel in her left hand. Then she turned, knelt, an offered it to Linora. “Your blaster, my Vigo.”

Linora gazed down at her, then smiled slightly. “No. Your blaster. I make a gift of it to you.” Her smile widened. “A sign of your loyalty.”

You know, Quentin remarked, she was in on it as well.

Oh, I know, Linora replied, reclaiming her seat. But she was smart enough to act first, and act correctly. We can use that.

Nodding, Quentin took his own seat. As he did, Tiphane approached him. "I really ought to change out of this,” she said, indicating her gore-soaked sleeve, “before the stain sets in."

Hesitating for a moment, Quentin nodded. “There’s a guest room upstairs,” he told her. “You can clean up there, and we can send someone for fresh clothes.” He rose, catching sight of Scarlet leaving with their mystery guest. “Follow me.”

-*-

The man followed Scarlet into Linora’s library, although that word wasn’t strictly accurate. “Lounge” would have been a better choice. There were two walls covered with bookshelves and stuffed with print books, but there was also a holoviewer, and a tridee game table, and several overstuffed chairs and a matching sofa.

The man crossed the room and examined the shelves, finger running along but not quite touching the books. “I’m not certain we’ll find S’wynbur’s works here,” he murmured. “This appears to be mostly prose fiction - historical romances, picaresque travel stories, and…”. He stopped and selected a book with the title Navigatio Serica Siren, thumbed through it, and chuckled. “And well-read erotica, it seems.”

Replacing the book, he walked back towards Scarlet. “There are other ways to explore his ideas, though.” His right arm moved with unbelievable speed, catching her by the throat and driving her back against the shelves. When she struggled by reflex he tightened his grip, and when her dark rage boiled up a chill darkness of his own swallowed the storm.

“Say you want this,” he breathed, his weight crushing her back against the shelves as he leaned into her. His thumb moved, and his lips traced the livid red mark he’d left on her skin. “I can feel it in you, Scarlet.” He smirked at her expression. “Oh, yes. I know who you are. The Force sensitive assassin whore.”

His teeth scraped her ear, and he pressed a hilt into her hand. “Will you kill me when I fuck you?” he breathed, bringing the double-edged blade between them. The chill steel pressed lightly against her heist and his as his lips caressed hers. “Will my blood drench your skin as I spill myself into you?”

-*-

There was no surprise on Quentin’s face as Tiphane emerged, mostly naked. The charge of arousal had filled the air all night, and this was an obvious outcome. But that didn’t stop him from appreciating what she was seeing. She was small, not more than 5’ 4”, but certainly not childish. “Whatever it takes?” he repeated, not disguising the hunger in his voice.

“Anything at all,” she breathed, slowly walking towards him. “Anything.”

“Then kneel,” he said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “It’ll be the Vigo you have to convince, but maybe - maybe - I could be persuaded to put in a good word for you,”. Leaning forward, he licked his lips. “How Will you convince me?”
 
Scarlet flailed as he lifted her by her throat, unable to touch the ground even in her high heels. Terror rose up in her as she struggled for air, morphing into a dark rage in the force. But, just as his hand gripped her neck, he gripped her mind as well, icy tendrils of psychic power suppressing her power. She wasn't completely helpless, but this was a far more dangerous liaison than she initially realized. And yet, while her heart pounded with panic, her clit throbbed, aching for more of his intimidating attention.

"Say you want this," he breathed, his weight crushing her back against the shelves as he leaned into her. His thumb moved, and his lips traced the livid red mark he'd left on her skin. "I can feel it in you, Scarlet." He smirked at her expression. "Oh, yes. I know who you are. The Force sensitive assassin whore."

"Not a whore," she croaked, meeting his hungry leer with fire in her eyes. "I don't fuck for money– I kill for money."

"Will you kill me when I fuck you? Will my blood drench your skin as I spill myself into you?"

"I haven't decided yet," she breathed, tugging his lapel to inch herself up his body, and spreading herself to wrap one leg around his hips. His rigid erection ground right into her, restrained from entering her by only his pants.

She gripped the hilt, trying to control the blade, but he didn't relinquish it, not completely. Still its razor edge pointed at her heart, its tip flattening her soft cleavage. The blade caressed her skin before catching on the silk of her dress. The thin material proved no match his knife, slicing away to expose her creamy breasts to his gaze, just barely contained in her bra. Lower the blade traveled, whispering over skin as she tried to control her heaving breaths, until it nicked the band of her bra and cut it away. Only then, once she was nude from the waist up, did he release the blade into her hands.

"You never told me your name," she murmured, sliding the blade up his firm figure until it kissed his throat. "Worried that might influence my decision?" The blade glided over his throat, cutting free the top button of his shirt.



"Oh, I might have an idea or two," Tiphane cooed, watching Quentin watch her, as she approached. She waited until she was up against him, before kneeling, brushing soft, smooth skin over his body, until she positioned herself between his legs, his tented pants right at eye level. Tracing the outline of his shaft with her eyes, she licked her lips, and met his gaze.

"May I?" she asked, sliding her hands up his thighs, until she found his belt and fly. Oh, Tiphane tried to go slow, to draw out the teasing, but already her mouth watered at the thought of swallowing his cock. It took all her willpower to still her trembling hands, to open his fly without ripping his pants away. Her reward was his swollen head burst forth to meet her, to greet her with his musky, masculine scent.

"Oh fuck, your dick looks good." She leaned in to lick him, one long lap along his length before moaning in satisfaction, "Really fucking good." Another moan, and she swallowed his head, savoring his flavor and worshipping his steel hardness. He was quite a lot to take, but she pushed herself, sliding slippery lips further and further down his meat. Working her tongue over his veins and bulges, hungry to taste every inch of him.
 
"Whether I tell you my name or not," the man replied in a thick voice that shivered as the edge brushed the skin of his throat, "what makes you think you have any say in the decision?" He shivered and uttered a languid growl of delight as the second button sliced away, exposing more of his chest to her gaze. "Do you really think I would give you that knife, if I was concerned that you could use it to stop me?" His hand tightened on her throat for a moment as she cut the next button away, but his eyes closed and a gasping sigh was drawn from his throat as the edge traced a thin red welt above his breastbone.

Leaning into her, he forced her head back against the shelves as his lips pressed against hers. The kiss was a ravaging assault, his lips bruising hers, his tongue forcing between her teeth to probe deep. His hungry growl filled her mouth, shivered against her skin, and he hissed in sudden pain as the razor edge of the dagger trapped between them bit into his flesh. Blood flowed from the wound, soaking his shirt and lubricating his flesh against hers. "I felt it bite into you, too," he growled, tracing a finger across the similar scratch on her own skin. "I felt you respond to the kiss of the edge. To the hungry bite of steel." His fingertip, stained with his blood and hers, traced her lips. "You crave it, don't you? Pleasure, mingled with pain."

The next kiss was gentle, savoring the mingled flavors of their blood on her lips as he pushed against her, grinding into her. And then he twisted suddenly, dragging her around him with the steel-hard grip of his hand on her throat to fling her across the room. As she struck the central table in the library he was on her, straddling her hips and pinning her to the heavy wood. "I will violate you," he leered, crouching low over her. Catching the wrist of her dagger hand, he slammed it down onto the table. "I will desecrate you. And you will beg me to do it."

-*-

Quentin leaned back, rocking his hips forward to present more of his aching cock to Tiphane. After the way this evening had gone, he needed this. Needed to fuck someone, needed the release of orgasm. Linora needed it as well, based on what he could feel radiating off her through their bond in the Force, and he could also taster her frustration with having to play host a while longer. And Kaydia? Fuck, she needed it bad. And was getting it, from the way she felt. The sense of fear mingling with her lust was something to watch out for, but it didn't seem alarming right now. "There you go," he breathed. "That's right."

He groaned as Tiphane worked herself down his shaft, slightly surprised that such a small woman could swallow his length. Surprised and impressed, to be honest, as well as turned on. The way she relaxed her throat to take his length was amazing. She gasped for breath as she drew back from him, her breath warm on his spit-slick dick. He smiled as she considered his length, and decided to play into her games a little more. As she drew in air, making her small breasts heave deliciously, he drew his blaster from his shoulder holster.

"Did I say you could stop?" he hissed, pressing the muzzle against her forehead. "You're begging for your life, bitch. Maybe you should suck my dick like you want to live through the night."
 
He tossed her around like she was doll, a plaything for his amusement. Crimson blood smeared her skin, her breasts, becoming a gory parody of modesty. His threats echoed her memories, of things the pirates had said to her. Had done to her. Scarlet struggled for control of the knife, but he slammed down her hand, and numb fingers lost their grip on the handle. Had he broken her wrist? No, she could still more her hand, a little.

She wasn't helpless. She'd never be helpless again.

Her left hook struck him right in the jaw, sending him over the table to crash onto the floor. She sat up now, drawing in her first good breath since they'd entered the library. His hand shot forth, to grab her ankle, likely, but she was ready, and caught him under her heel.

"Take it," she snarled, dropping the blade at his side with a clang of steel on wood. "I don't need a knife to make you bleed." Standing over him, she brought her fist to her lips and licked the blood off her knuckles. The ruined remains of her dress clung to her hips, and soaked up the blood rolling down bare skin. This time, she pinned him and clawed at his pants to free his cock. He'd been teasing her with it all night, and she wanted to take a good look at it.

He didn't disappoint. Licking her lips, Scarlet leaned in close. "Is this what you're going to use to violate me?" Lips hovered over his twitching shaft, not quite touching, but caressing him with the heat of her breath. "Is this cock going to desecrate me?" Her blood soaked breasts brushed against his length now. Lubricating their skin, until it was easy to massage his shaft with her soft, yielding mounds. Watching his eyes, she lapped at a smear of blood on his swollen head.

"How are you going to make me beg?"



Damn, was Quentin some kind of mind reader? Did he know how much this was working for her? Sitting over her, light glinting off the gun he pointed at her head. Fuck, it was hot. Tiphane was hot, dripping and throbbing for him. For his thick cock.

The cool steel muzzle still pressed into her skin as she took him back into her mouth. It moved with her head as she worked herself down his engorged length again, an ever looming threat. His head stretched her throat once more, and she squeezed his thigh hard to maintain composure, to fight down her gag reflex.

Soon, she found a rhythm, sliding down just enough to draw in a deep breath through her nose, before swallowing him again. Encouraging him to use her, to fuck her mouth like the whore she was. Imagining how hard he'd take her when he fucked her cunt with his bulging dick.
 
He hefted the knife, testing its weight as he enjoyed the sight and feel of Scarlet's bloody breasts massaging his dick. "Do you think I do?" he asked, voice dark with lust. "I gave you this knife, after all. But if you want to do without it? Then I will as well." Flipping the knife, he caught it by the point and snapped his arm forward. Steel sang past her ear as the knife flew straight, embedding itself in the wood-look plasteel of a bookcase. "Now... where was I?"

Snapping his arm out he grabbed her hair, dragging her body up and over him. The blood coating her breasts smeared over his chest, and his free hand cupped ass through the sheer fabric of her dress. "Yes," he growled, rolling his hips up and grinding the hot steel of his cock against her stomach, "I'll desecrate you with this cock. Violate you, body and soul with it. You will shudder at the memory of it filling you." The fingers squeezing her ass worked lower and inward, pressing against the drenched lips of her cunt. "You will bare your every dark lust, your every shameful fantasy to me." The fingertip stroked into her, teasing her clit. "And you will tremble as I fullfill them."

With a jerk he rolled her over, pinning her to the floor with his weight. He shifted his hips, allowing the hand that had gripped her ass to slide between their bodies. "You will ache for me. Ache from me. Covered in blood and cum, without even the dignity of being a whore." One finger slipped into her, hooking to press hard against the spongy inner wall. "Because a whore is paid for it, and you will do it for free."

-*-

Quentin rolled his head back again, sighing out his lust even as he kept the muzzle of the blaster pressed hard against her forehead. "That's it," he husked, wrapping her hair around his free hand. "Head enforcer? I should have Linora trick you out." He gasped as she swallowed his meat once more, her tongue caressing his shaft as he did. "You're a better fuck than a fighter, aren't you? A fucking cock-hungry slut." His hips rocked up and he tightened his grip, forcing more of his meat into her mouth. "I said suck, bitch. Suck like your life depends on it!"

Tiphane's response was a muffled, hungry moan as she worked a hand under her chin to cup his balls. "Yeah, I knew it," he laughed, tapping the muzzle against her skull. "Scratch that tough act, and you're just a whore. I should have fucked you on the table in front of everyone. Held you down and plowed you, then offered your ass to anyone else who wanted a go."

Even as she shivered at that comment, he dragged her mouth off his dick. "Get me off," he snarled. "Use your hands and your tits to get me off. I want to blow my load all over your face, like the whore you are. And then you better get me hard again. Because I want the boss to see you covered with cum and whimpering while I pound my dick into your tight ass."
 
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