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Xana writes (and bitches probably.) Comments Welcome!

Why it take me so long to write a post:
  • Okay, let's tackle Silken Siren today. I have a plan to setup the first battle of the revolution, so should be an easy post to write.
  • But first I need music. So, let's go with Hamilton. I really want one song in particular, but I can't remember which.
  • *Browses the lyrics pages for a couple songs, but still can't find it.*
  • God, I love Guns and Ships.
  • *Browses Genius Lyrics Page for Guns and Ships*
  • Huh, it apparently has the fastest lyrics for a musical. Makes sense.
  • People in the comments are arguing about which lyric is actually the fastest one.
  • People in the comments are arguing about whether speed should be calculated by words per second, words per beat, or syllables per second.
  • Someone offers a long comment calculating the various syllables per seconds counts for a bunch of songs.
  • *Goes and listens to the other songs for comparison*
  • Youtube isn't working right on my phone, but I don't want to listen on comp because I was wearing my bluetooth Headset, and don't want to explain why I am listening to a glee song to others in the vicinity.
  • Turns off Wifi, gets youtube to work on phone.
  • Still can't find which song I want. F' it, I'll just listen to it in order.
  • My music player is auto shuffling the songs.
  • Can't turn off auto shuffle
  • Googles why this is happening
  • Everyone has this problem, no clear solution for playlists.
  • Have to switch over to listening to the Album in order to turn off auto shuffle.
  • Okay, ready to write.
  • But first I have to write up a funny post showing everyone what a mess I am.
 
With the concerns about COVID 19 ramping up, I keep seeing hand washing PSA, especially the "Happy Birthday" one. Which reminded of a fun scene from Blue Mirror:

TheCorsair said:
Fuckhead out there was taking his goddamn time with his personal hygiene, too. Over the throne of his blood in his ears, he was sure he could hear the man singing ‘happy birthday’ under his breath. He just had to listen to those PSAs, didn’t he?
Click to expand...

Unnamed Fuckhead: Excuse me for worry about my personal hygiene while we have a fucking pandemic ramping up. Sure, let me just forgo hand-washing so you two can get it on in the bathroom like a couple of hormonal teenagers with somehow even less impulse control. It will on you when half the department is out sick or in quarantine. Oh, and by the way, you aren't fooling anyone. We all know you're fucking.
 
So, Xana, I saw the little INFP thingie on your profile. Which made me realize I'd never actually taken one of those tests. So! For funsies (and because the only other person I told said: "yeah, I know.") here's my results.

ENFJ-A (there's hyphens now, apparently)
"The Protagonist"
---------------------------
56% Extroverted
80% Intuitive (that's good, right?)
72% Feeling
53% Judging
56% Assertive

Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers

The interest Protagonists have in others is genuine, almost to a fault

I'd make a terrible politician, btw. And I'm a little offended this website suggested as such 😛
 
Pete and Marta’s eldest daughter, following in the family business.
F31881D2-EE98-4E7C-9A08-ADB2DF03E5F7.jpeg
 
Potential future plots for Blue Mirror

Cast: Silken Siren
Setting: Western

After a big heist, a group of outlaws seeks refuge from the law. In a dusty ghost town, they find a brothel miraculously open, who welcomes the outlaws in with open arms. The brothel madame, in particular, takes a shining to the lead outlaw. Are these working girls just eager for some masculine attention, or is their something sinister behind their invitation?

Or maybe La Viuda? (The Widow)

Cast: Mercedes Moreno, Kaydia Voss, Quentin Hall
Setting Modern-ish

After years of enduring abuse at the hands of her husband, Mercedes Moreno teamed up with an elite assassin to kill her husband and take command of the Columbian Cartel.

With her loyal bodyguard at her side and in her bed, Mercedes has become know as La Madrina (or La Viuda), and runs the cocaine trade with brutal efficiency.

Quentin (CIA? DEA?) is sent in to take her in -or out. Seduction gets him close to her, But he has to contend with her bodyguard, only to discover that she is a former lover he thought died.

Cast= The Clarem
Setting= Modern

The Clarem are cast as the new “Queer Eye” team. Clara handles fashion, Willam handles grooming, Sue handles design, Sigurd handles culture, and Thora handles food and wine. Oh, and they still fight evil - it’s a polyamorous urban fantasy Scooby Doo meets Queer Eye.

Cast= Quentin, Kaydia, Linora
Setting= Videran

Quentin Hall is an Inquisitor Paladin of Afodesia hunting his former lover, Linora Starfell. Five years ago she betrayed the Order and disappeared into the Demonlands. Now she commands the Ravenous, demons of mindless hunger that serve the Demon Lord of Lust. When the Paladin-guarded caravan he’s shadowing through the Demonlands comes under attack, he thinks he’s found his chance. But the demonic commander proves to be Kaydia Voss, a lost and presumed dead Paladin Aspirant taken to the Ebon Keep a decade ago. But when he’s framed for a crime he didn’t commit, she’s the only person he can turn to to ensure the survival of himself and his young apprentice and prove their innocence.

Cast= Matthias, Aurianna, Jeoram
Setting= A galaxy far far away

In the waning days of the Old Republic, Jedi Knights Aurianna Kellikos and Jeoram Sandoval have taken the assignment of breaking the power of the Black Sun in the Outer Rim. Their crusade has taken them to the mining world of Mustafar on the trail of a man named Matthias Kavaltaja, the boss of Black Sun operations across the sector and rumored to be a member of the syndicate’s ruling circle. Matthias is more than he seems though, being a fallen Jedi who has taken the title Darth Satar, and the discovery costs both Jedi dearly. But when both Aurianna and Matthias are betrayed - he by the Black Sun and she by her partner - will a Jedi Knight and a Sith Lord be able to cooperate to survive?

Cast= Quentin Hall, Claudia Ross
Setting Modern

A sequel to Criminal Seduction. Claudia, mentally broken by her experiences, has quit the police force to pursue an addiction to opiates and alcohol, and has taken up prostitution to support this lifestyle. However, when FBI agent Quentin Hall is tasked with solving an impossible set of murders, he seeks out Claudia for her psychometric gifts. What she discovers is more horrific than either could have begun to imagine.

“How much?”

Claudia leaned into the open back window of the SUV that pulled up beside her, cleavage nearly spilling out of her top. She could only make out the vague shape of a man in the dark of the night. “What are you looking for?”

“Your time. All night.”

She snorted. “That’s gonna cost you a cool grand.”

He held up a roll of crisp hundred-dollar bills, easily covering her price and then some. So she got into the SUV, bare leg brushing against the john’s pants. In the brief moment, with the car door light illuminating his features, and she could tell he wasn’t the usual type to pick her up for an evening. Not with his strong jawline and boyishly handsome blue-green eyes. Dressed well in a sharp suit that didn’t hide his firm physique, this was either her lucky night, or her worst nightmare.

“So what’s your deal? You got some sort of weird fetish?” She thought about it for a brief minute, before her face twisted in disgust, “Look, if you’re into piss or shit, it’s going to cost you extra.”

He didn’t say anything, but handed her a thickly packed manila folder. That was new, but maybe he was really particular? Opening the file, the first thing she saw was a photo of a naked woman with a dagger in her gut and pool of blood beneath her. She slapped the folder closed and turned her ire on the john, “What the fuck is this?”

“Crime scene photo,” he explained, pulling out another photo from the folder. She could tell it was the dead woman, even with a vibrant smile beaming on her face. “Dr. Marta Rebelo-Perez, professor of History at Miskatonic University, in Arkham, Rhode Island. She was found dead at her boyfriend’s apartment, on Halloween.”

“Found at her boyfriend’s apartment?” Claudia felt herself falling back into old roles more easily than she would have expected. “Sounds like an open and shut case.”

“You’d think that, but…” He produced more pictures, another, different crime scene photo and an accompanying picture of a handsome Asian man with a dorky grin. He, too, was naked in a pool of blood. “Dr. Peter Jae Ahn, professor of physics at Miskatonic, and Marta’s boyfriend. He was also found dead on Halloween, but at the Arkham Hilton, some eight miles away.”

“Weird,” she admitted, looking over each crime scene photo more closely now. Both were naked save some unusual black onyx jewelry.

“It get even weirder,” the john promised, pulling out surveillance photos featuring the couple. “From 8:37 until 9:56 pm, Peter and Marta were seen by dozens of witnesses having dinner at the Acropolis, the in-house restaurant of the Arkham Hilton.” Claudia nodded and looked over the image of the two at dinner, dressed in elegant evening wear. “And yet, at 9:23 pm, Peter and Marta picked up a pizza at pizzeria down the street from Pete’s apartment.” He handed her a different surveillance photo, with Peter dressed in a blazer over a button up shirt and slacks, and Marta wearing one of those sexy Halloween costumes that were essentially a cheap corset over a short skirt.

She raised an eyebrow at the john. “Twins?”

“Nope,” the john explained. “No twins. Both victims have siblings, but they aren’t so close in appearance that they could pass for one another.”

Claudia sat back in the seat, looking at each photo and searching it for an explanation that might make sense. Comparing them to the crime scene photos. In each only one thing really stood out, and that was the onyx jewelry that the costumed Marta wore in the pizza parlor, and the elegantly dressed Peter wore in the restaurant. The victim of each couple. But what did it mean?

Finally, she glanced up at the john, searching those cool turquoise eyes for answers that didn’t exist. “Okay, so what do you need from me?”

He pulled one last thing from his bag, a strange dagger with a glossy, black stone. The murder weapon. He offered it to her, handle first, “I need you to tell me what happened that night.”


A woman who is a deeply devout zealot of a strict patriarchal religion. She is a lesbian, which the religion condemns. Because she is so devout, she fully believes herself a sinner condemned to hell. So, seeing as seh's already going to hell, she might as well take as many heathen souls with her as possible. She becomes a terrifying assassin for the religion/cult, willing to sacrifice her very soul to spread the prophet's message and serve his will. Maybe with a dub-con type relationship between her and the prophet?

Vaguely inspired by Mormon Danites, which is a possibility for her religion. Needs a plot to fit into. Maybe as an antagonist.
 
“I can’t believe you actually got off work before me, for once,” Aurelia teased, wrapping her arms around Joe’s neck. Claudia hadn’t met his girlfriend yet, but it was obviously her, from what she’d heard. Devastatingly gorgeous, with her velvety, deep complexion and tight, firm figure, her and Joe looked great together. Claudia countered the tightness in her chest with a long swig of beer.

Joe greeted her with a light kiss. “Look, I’ve tried asking nicely, but most perps aren’t thinking about business hours when they commit a crime.”

“But it worked today, didn’t it?” Aurelia countered, leaning into him. “Maybe you just need to find a different way of asking.”

“We happened to close a big case today. All thanks to Claudia,” Joe explained, motioning with his beer, “and her brilliant intuition, for sussing out the killer.” That was the first time Aurelia paid her any mind, sparing a bored glance in her direction.

“I just had a lucky guess,” Claudia started, looking down at her own beer bottle to hide the shy smile that crossed her lips. “It was Joe’s interrogation that got him to confess.”

“It was a joint effort,” Joe admitted, wrapping one of his arms around Aurelia’s waist. Another drink finished off his beer, and he held up the empty bottle as a signal for the bartender. “So, what do you say? Join me and Claudia for a drink or two?”

Aurelia tugged on his shirt, not quite pulling him to his feet. “What if I treated you to a steak instead? I am absolutely famished.”

“Yeah, I could eat. Maybe even get some dinner too,” he teased, with a possessive grip on her hips. It was another moment of eye contact between them before Joe seemed to remember that Claudia was still sitting right there. “Did you, uh, wanna join us?”

The bartender came over with another beer for Joe, but Claudia took it instead, “Nah, I’m good; you two enjoy dinner. And, uh, nice meeting you, Aurelia.”

The other woman regarded her with cool eyes, before nodding in agreement, “Yeah, you too.”

Claudia watched them walk out the bar together, Aurelia leaning in Joe, and his arm around her shoulders, and a bitter loneliness ached in her chest. Maybe it would be nice to celebrate closing a big case with someone else, instead of a bottle.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The question came from behind, and in a less vulnerable moment, Claudia would have ignored it altogether. But maybe pissing away half her salary on a bender wasn’t the best coping mechanism for her loneliness. She half turned, giving a quick appraisal of the speaker. Tall, fit, clean shaven blond wearing expensive cologne and a fake smile. Attractive enough, but he had all the trappings of a douchebag.

“Nope,” Claudia said, finishing off her beer in a long swallow. Before the douchebag could walk away, however, she turned and hopped off the barstool. Taking a moment to leer at him, she met his gaze with a shrug, “But I suppose you could take me back to your place.”
 
WIP Dump
“How much?”

Claudia leaned into the open back window of the SUV that pulled up beside her, cleavage nearly spilling out of her top. She could only make out the vague shape of a man in the dark of the night. “What are you looking for?”

“Your time. All night.”

She snorted. “That’s gonna cost you a cool grand.”

He held up a roll of crisp hundred-dollar bills, easily covering her price and then some. So she got into the SUV, bare leg brushing against the john’s pants. In the brief moment, with the car door light illuminating his features, and she could tell he wasn’t the usual type to pick her up for an evening. Not with his strong jawline and boyishly handsome blue-green eyes. Dressed well in a sharp suit that didn’t hide his firm physique, this was either her lucky night, or her worst nightmare.

“So what’s your deal? You got some sort of weird fetish?” She thought about it for a brief minute, before her face twisted in disgust, “Look, if you’re into piss or shit, it’s going to cost you extra.”

He didn’t say anything, but handed her a thick manila folder. That was new, but maybe he was really particular? Opening the file, the first thing she saw was a photo of a naked woman with a dagger in her gut and pool of blood beneath her. She slapped the folder closed and turned her ire on the john, “What the fuck is this?”

“Crime scene photo,” he explained, pulling out another photo. She could tell it was the dead woman, even with a vibrant smile beaming on her face. “Dr. Marta Rebelo-Perez, professor of History at Miskatonic University, in Arkham, Rhode Island. She was found dead at her boyfriend’s apartment, on Halloween.”

“Found at her boyfriend’s apartment?” Claudia felt herself falling back into old roles more easily than she would have expected. “Sounds like an open and shut case.”

“You’d think that, but…” He produced more pictures: another, different crime scene photo and an accompanying picture of a handsome Asian man with a dorky grin. He, too, was naked in a pool of blood. “Dr. Peter Jae Ahn, professor of physics at Miskatonic, and Marta’s boyfriend. He was also found dead on Halloween, but at the Arkham Hilton, some eight miles away.”

“Weird,” she admitted, looking over each crime scene photo more closely now. Both were naked save some unusual black onyx jewelry.

“It get even weirder,” the john promised, pulling out surveillance photos featuring the couple. “From 8:37 until 9:56 pm, Peter and Marta were seen by dozens of witnesses having dinner at the Acropolis, the in-house restaurant of the Arkham Hilton.” Claudia nodded and looked over the image of the two at dinner, dressed in elegant evening wear. “And yet, at 9:23 pm, Peter and Marta picked up a pizza at pizzeria down the street from Pete’s apartment.” He handed her a different surveillance photo, with Peter dressed in a blazer over a button up shirt and slacks, and Marta wearing one of those sexy Halloween costumes that were essentially a cheap corset over a short skirt.

She raised an eyebrow at the john. “Twins?”

“Nope,” the john explained. “No twins. Both victims have siblings, but they aren’t so close in appearance that they could pass for one another.”

Claudia sat back in the seat, looking at each photo and searching it for an explanation that might make sense. Comparing them to the crime scene photos. In each only one thing really stood out, and that was the onyx jewelry that the costumed Marta wore in the pizza parlor, and the elegantly dressed Peter wore in the restaurant. The victim of each couple. But what did it mean?

Finally, she glanced up at the john, searching those cool turquoise eyes for answers that didn’t exist. “Okay, so what do you need from me?”

He pulled one last thing from his bag, a strange dagger with a glossy, black stone. The murder weapon. He offered it to her, handle first, “I need you to tell me what happened that night.”


Sudden chill made Claudia snap open her eyes, just long to realize her blanket was gone, before she recognized Quentin at the edge of her bed.The mattress compressed under his knees as he inched in closer to her, and pulled her thighs apart. “I will have what I’ve paid for.” There was no choice but to open to him, no question and no need for an answer. His eyes, dark and hungry, didn’t leave hers as his hand slid under her skirt. Unwavering, Unrelenting. Rough fingers found her slit, tracing her opening from perineum to clit before spreading her open.

Two fingers pushed into her, past the resistance of flesh and clawing a cry from her throat. He silenced her with his mouth, claiming hers with an act too violent to be called a kiss. The cheap motel mattress groaned under their weight as he pinned her down, chest heavy atop hers. His fingers didn’t stop, demanding more from her with each thrust. Taking more from her in each stroke. A promise, and a threat. “You like it, don’t you?”

Her body responded to him, slick heat building inside her. She didn’t speak, didn’t protest, didn’t argue. Just breathed, trembling breaths conceding to him. Surrendering. Another kiss drank in her cries, her pleas, her desperate need. “Cum for me, Claudia,” he whispered, his voice like honey pooling in her mind.

She sat up, sheet clutched against her body, to find she was alone. Quentin’s sleeping form hardly budged from his bed, blanketed by shadow. Nothing had happened, she told herself, steadying herself with two deep breaths, but still her heart raced.

Not yet, that sinister voice in her head mocked, but it’s only a matter of time.

Her hand slapped the nightstand, fumbling blindly until she found the pill bottle. She popped the cap and tossed back the last two oxy in a single, smooth motion. That should silence the voice for a few hours, maybe even long enough to get back to sleep. But the slick heat between her thighs remained, demanding satisfaction.

She turned her attention back over to Quentin. The undershirt he wore showed off his firm arms and shoulders, but everything else was covered by the blanket. Still, Claudia imagined crawling into bed with him, sliding a hand under the covers to stroke him hard. Waking him up with a warm body astride him, milking his cock in a hungry orgasm. But that was just a fantasy, and it wouldn’t go any further. It couldn’t go any further. Sleeping with another partner would never end well for her.

Instead she headed for the bathroom and started the shower. Once the water reached the same temperature as the lust dripping down her thighs, she stepped in, and leaned against one wall. The fantasy from her dream continued, Quentin taking a savage kiss from her lips with his hand wrapped around her throat. A single stroke claimed her, her slick slit opened to him. Welcoming him. Begging for him.

“Quentin.” Two fingers were a weak substitute for his cock, she imagined, so she forced a third inside herself with a sharp gasp. “Quentin.” His name came louder this time, harsher, almost matching his demanding energy in her fantasy. She wanted him to fuck her, to use her. She deserved it, deserved everything he might do to her. Fingers struggled to keep pace with her pounding heart and ragged breaths, chasing that elusive bliss that may grant her a brief respite. “Quentin!” she screamed out, lost as her tension fell apart, swallowed up by a deep quiver that coursed over slick muscles. More moans poured from her lips, louder than the spray of the shower, and she was powerless to control herself, powerless to stop. Instead she slumped into the slick shower stall, and rode out her rapture.

You up?

Aurelia watched the unchanging screen, regretting the two words a little more each passing second. Each moment reminding her why they’d broken up in the first place. With a long sigh, she dropped the phone screen down onto the mattress and flopped down beside it. Another text or two could probably convince him to come by, that entailed a degree of vulnerability she couldn't risk. Sex was easy; love was hard.

But then the phone chirped, and she grabbed with an unseemly haste. Yeah. Sup?

Biting her lip and giggling, Aurelia snapped a selfie, capturing the barely-there lingerie she “happened” to be wearing, and sent it back as a reply. This time, it didn’t long to get his reply back.

I’ll be right there.

Okay, Maybe Joe wasn’t a complete asshole.

The knock at the door sent Aurelia’s heart racing, and despite wanting to tease Joe with anticipation, she opened on the second knock. He stood in the doorway, with a scruffy face and a tired smile on his lips. His eyes lingered on her body before meeting her own. "Hey."

"Hey."

They were well past the point of small talk, by now. Talk could only get in the way, could only dredge up old hurts and tired arguments. One step inside had his body brushing against her while he kicked her door closed, and the next step found her against the wall, his lips hot and hungry on hers. Aurelia half wondered if they would even make it into the bedroom, wrapping one leg around his to pull him in even closer.

Joe didn’t leave her wondering long, one rough hand skimming up her thigh, helping her raise it higher. High enough she could wrap it around his waist, before grabbing two fistfulls of her ass and lifting her so she could wrap her other leg around him too. Kissing didn’t stop as he carried her down the hallway, not until he threw her down on her bed.

With a bounce and a gasp, Aurelia landed and giggled as she pulled Joe down on her. She grabbed the upper hand with a hungry kiss, but couldn’t hold it. Not after he bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She flinched, and Joe took advantage of that to flip her onto her stomach, trapping her wrist over her head in one strong hand. The other began working off her clothes, and his mouth followed close behind, claiming her in stinging bites on her neck and shoulders.

“The fuck Aurelia?” The words came with a real heat, reminiscent of a dozen arguments they’d had when together.

“What?”

“ACAB? Really?”

Apparently he didn't like her new tattoo. Aurelia laughed, and shook her head, “Tell me it’s a lie.”

“I’m a cop.

“And you’re a bastard too.”

“You asked me to come over.” The heat in his voice matched the heat of his breath, tingling as it ghosted over her neck, and it took every fiber of her being to suppress her shudder. Despite his anger-- No, because of his anger, she burned for him. Because he could only get this angry if he still cared. He drew closer, lips grazing her ear, adding, “Nearly fucking begged."

“You’re a bastard with a big dick." She smirked and shrugged. "Compromises can be made.”

Joe snickered, and for a heartbeat, Aurelia thought she blew it. Thought that maybe, she should apologize for that one. But rough hands grabbed her hips and pulled her back towards him, taking only a moment to line up their bodies before slamming half his cock inside her.

“That’s all you want, isn’t it?” Her sharp cry didn’t answer him to his liking, so Joe slapped her ass with stinging force and a full palm. Another thrust sheathed his swollen length inside her, jerking her whole body into the mattress. He smacked her ass again. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she cried out, the word a strangled sound of mingled pleasure and pain.

“You just want me to wreck you on this thick cock, don’t you?” Another slap cracked across her ass.

“Yes!” she squealed, meeting his aggression with her own hunger, meeting his hips with her own. Her ass cheek throbbed each time it smacked into his rock hard abs, but she refused to surrender. It didn’t matter if he left her limping, she’d fuck him as hard as he fucked her.

“Just a filthy whore, drooling for this bastard’s fat dick?” He grabbed a fistful of hair, forcing her to arch her back as he took more. His engorged cock split her open again and again, his rhythm brutal, and bruising. Even her clenching couldn’t stop him, couldn’t slow him, her smooth muscles proving to be no resistance to his momentum.

“And you’re just a nasty little cum slut for me, aren’t you?” His fist in her hair tightened, tugging painfully to drag her lips to his. His tongue probed her mouth just as his shaft probed her cunt, deep and demanding. One last stroke slammed into her far wall, filling her with a sharp pain, before his cum erupted inside her. Hot spurts coated her walls and dripped from swollen lips.

Aurelia turned, euphoria plastered on her face, only for it to drop away as Joe pulled his pants up. "What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed." He didn't even look at her, just focused on looping his belt.

"Why?"

"We're done, aren't we?" He glanced at her now, eyes hard.

Aurelia shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. I just thought..." She trailed off with a sigh.

"Thought what? That only a bastard would leave right after?" He buckled his belt with a discordant clang. She said nothing back; He said nothing else. Just left after shrugging his shirt back on and slamming her door.

Aurelia lay there a while longer, body curled, knees tight against her chest.

"Fucking asshole."
 
Last edited:
Muse: Oh! I have the best idea for a scene for the Star Wars rp.
Me: Great, I owe a post on that one.
Muse: Okay, so we have Mara on Zeltros, where the rebel alliance is celebrating the Emperor's demise, and the fall of the empire. Mara has snuck off to be by herself in the courtyard, where she reflects on her journey and her growth, as well as her complicated feelings towards Luke. Feelings made even more complicated by Mara's memories of the last time she and Luke were together in this garden. She can have one last vision of her parents together in the force, and as they fade away, she sees Luke, so they can finally have a real convo about their relationship. Or, you know, lack thereof.
Me: Okay, that sounds like a great ending sequence for the rp, really ties together many different threads nicely. But I need to write the final confrontation with Palpatine first. Can I get some inspiration for that?
Muse:...
Muse: I got nothing.
Me: Nothing?
Muse: *shrugs* Can we just gloss over it?
Me: No, it's too important to just gloss over. Everything has been building up to this.
Muse: Meh.
Me:...
Muse: Oh! I just had a great idea!
Me: About the confrontation with Palpatine?
Muse: No.
Muse: Okay, so what if the same scene as before, but smutty.
Me: Smutty? How?
Muse: It's Zeltros, right? So there is also an orgy going on around Mara.
Me: Why are you like this?
 
Working on some editing as of late. Rewrote an old smut scene for brevity, and simplicity. Pretty proud of how it turned out.

Kaydia stumbled through the club, heart pounding at the same pulsing tempo of the music. Strobing lights cast prismatic flares through the building, highlighting the sheen of sweat on the dancers like strings of fine gems. Merakuya. It had to be Merakuya honey. Must have been in the drinks. But the doses suitable for regular humans could easily overwhelm the psionic. Already sensitive to fine details, the amplification completely overwhelmed Kaydia.

Where was Quentin? Opening her mind to reach for him opened her to the thoughts and feelings of everyone at the party. Surface thoughts, mostly, pleasure and arousal and excitement and intoxication. That certainly wasn’t helping in her current state.

“Quen–“ She had to bite her tongue before his name, his real name could escape her lips. This was bad. Nearly spilling his name on a mission? It took a heartbeat, and another, before she could recall his cover identity. “Malachi!” Away from the dancefloor now, the beat still pumped her heart, but she could at least hear her own thoughts now.

“Madame? Are you–“ His words were lost on his tongue, as hers joined his. The lavender sweetness on her lips melted in his mouth. He groaned, the sound flavoring his growing hunger for her. Finally he pulled away, a devasting denial in her current state, even though she knew she was risking their cover now. Logic, reason, none of that mattered as much as the desire that burned for his touch. He held her face in his hands, the ridges of his fingerprints bumpy against her skin.

“Are you alright?” His question was sincere, colored by the worry in his eyes. Worry, and something deeper. But even now, his lip quivered, and his tongue darted out to savor the honeyed residue clinging to him. He was feeling it now, too.

“Take me,” she breathed, loud enough to be heard over the music and conservation filling the club. The satin of his collared shirt caressed her fingers, and she needed to get him out of it. Needed his skin against hers, bodies entangled in a carnal embrace.

“Madame?” he asked, remembering and reminding her of the roles they were supposed to be playing. But his words couldn’t break through the fog of lust that clouded her mind, just hummed musically in her ears.

“Take me! she demanded again, loud enough to catch the attention of several party goers. Their attention didn’t deter her– it emboldened her. She wanted everyone to see how much, how deeply she loved Quentin. How deeply –madly– he loved her back. Several buttons went flying as she tore at his shirt again, ripping it half open.

“I need to take you… back, back to hotel… then we can–“ Whatever else he said died under the cacophony of drinks crashing to the floor when he swept them off low table. Pinning her under his weight, and the weight of his need, his mouth covered hers, feasting on her taste, and the lingering merakuya in her mouth. One hand fisted in her hair, refusing to let her pull away, and the other gathered up her long skirt, strong, thick fingers gripping her thigh and tracing her skin higher still. And eagerly, she spread herself for him. Invited him in.

His fingers, calloused from a life of service and fighting, teased open her slit and slid into her. No resistance as he probed deeply, wet as she was, but still she clenched hard as he tried to pull away. Their eyes didn’t part while he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking her taste form them.

He shrugged out his shirt and let it fall to the floor, his tattoo catching the strobing lights of the club. The clang of his belt opening rang in her ears, and her body tensed in anticipation to the screech of his zipper. Sitting up on her elbows, she caught sight of his swollen cock, throbbing in his fist, then fell back again as he drove into her.

Cheers resounded about them, a growing group of voyeurs gathering around. The table beneath her thudded and thumped to the rhythm of Quentin’s strokes, chasing the rhythm of his panting breaths and her sharp moans. The crowd responded to them, and they responded in turn, the feedback loop as heady as any drink. Kaydia demanded more in tightening thighs legs pulling her deeper inside her, holding him deep inside her. But his momentum couldn’t be tamed, his grip on her hips bruising in it’s intensity.

With a heroic effort, she pushed herself off her back and pulled herself upright. Her reward was to claim his lips in a triumphant kiss. His hangs slid down to her ass, pulling her into his thrust just as she pulled him into her. Breasts molded against his chest in a desperate to feel more of him, take more of him, to give more to him.

The last kiss surrendered to him, to the tempo and force of his steel hard cock, and the sweet friction that split her walls apart, and the delicious tension coiling in her depths. She clung to him for dear life, nails drawing pink scratches down his firm back. The fluttering of smooth, inner muscles mirrored the fluttering of her eyelids, captive to the ecstasy Quentin pounded into her.

Then, as the pleasure peaked and bordered on painful, he sheathed himself inside her, and coated her trembling pussy with his cum. The heat of his pleasure soothed the ache of tender flesh, and her body thirsted for more. Quentin moaned into her throat, shoulders, claiming her throat with his teeth, just as he had claimed her cunt with his seed.
 
Wrote this a while back, but it doesn't look like I am going to get to use it. Still kinda bummed I don't get any closure with Luke and Mara, but maybe I will be able to go back to it sometime.

"There is emotion, yet there is peace.
There is ignorance, yet there is knowledge.
There is passion, yet there is serenity.
There is chaos, yet there is harmony.
There is death, yet there is the Force."

It wasn't a true meditative stance, but such things were difficult to maintain a mere 10 meters from a raucous party. And Mara certainly wasn't in a position to demand everyone restrain their joy to conform to her desire for ascetic silence.

There would be time later, for drinking, for celebration. For forgetting. Now, it was time for reflection.

Another deep breath filled her lungs. She released it slowly, letting so much more escape in her long exhale. The doubts and fears of a young girl seeking the approval of a ravenous being. She had no more room for those insecurities, no more room for the Emperor's lies. Truth, and love, and pride filled her now, arming against the darkness. It lingered, but it would not hold her again. She wouldn't allow it.

Inhaling once more, she thought of her parents. Her real parents, not the fictions the Emperor had created to control her, or the figments she'd created to fill the void within her. The people they were, virtues and flaws and all. Both of them had moved on, beyond their physical lives, to join in the force. It was supposed to be a joyous occurrence, worthy of celebration, but it was still hard to let go of the loss. Being present in the force wasn't the same as being present in the flesh. But loss would not rule her heart. She had too much to live for, to let it consume her.

Thoughts of her parents lead her towards thoughts of Luke. That pain harder to move past, still fresh and raw. Another breath embraced her happy memories of him, the love she felt for him. There was strength in that love, strength she had drawn on. Perhaps one day she'd have the strength to let go of the pain, as easily as she released that breath.

Perhaps the party would help with that?

Footsteps brought her back to the present, footsteps drawing near. Footsteps she recognized. One more deep breath and she opened her eyes. The pain crypt back up, like an icy vice around her heart, but she breathed through it, and even managed a smile.

Even now, she still wanted to smile at Luke.

"Hey," she offered, giddy energy warring against her apprehension. Seeing him again, being alone with him again, in the same garden where'd they fucked before, made her heart float and her stomach sink. Her only response was a weak laugh, "How's the party?"
 
"This one says it's kiss proof," Kaydia noted, holding up a bright red lip gloss. With a faint click, it opened, and she examined the applicator. "I think that's a claim that warrants testing. You up to experiment?"

"Experiment? With you?" Quentin repeated, taking a step closer until their bodies nearly touched. "Always." Kaydia made a show of applying the gloss, coating her lips in a shiny crimson sheen.

"Test one," she announced, closing the distance to Quentin's face. Their lips touched, pressed together, and her body molded to his. His hands rested on her hips, his touch light. With an effort, Kaydia pulled away, and studied Quentin's face.

"Test one appears to be successful. No transference so far." Kaydia pouted, emphasizing her painted lips, "How do I look?"

Quentin nodded, "Looks good. No smudging, nor dulling." His grip on her hips tightened, and he slid one of his legs between hers, "Shall we proceed to test two?"

"Absolutely." Kaydia simpered, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her lips forced his open hungering for his taste, and his tongue. Moans moved from his mouth to hers and back again, answering his arousal with growing lust. Her thighs captured his, willing herself out of her clothes to feel him against her. Inside her.

They were out of breath when they finally pulled away. "Your lips still look good. Plump, and moist." Quentin noted, his voice husky and breathy. He squeezed her ass, and made thinking very difficult.

"Still no transference," She acknowledged after a heartbeat or two. "No waxy taste, either. Very conducive to more kissing…" She captured his lips against with a wet plop, biting at him nearly hard enough to break skin. This time, when they pulled apart, she pushed him back, nearly shoving him onto the firm white couch of their rented suite. "Time for test three."

"Test three?" Quentin asked with a gasp and a smirk. He pulled her onto his lap, prodding her with his hardening desire. One hand went under her shirt and palmed a heavy breast. "What's test three?"

Kaydia didn't answer with words, but her lips trailed over his cheek and jaw until she found his throat. While her lips feasted on the salt sweat of his skin, her hands worked open his shirt, button by button. Teeth and tongue alternated on his neck, biting hard enough to bruise his skin before soothing his with the heat of her kiss. She savored his taste, his wordless cries and hisses, his increasingly greed fingers, squeezing her breast and teasing her nipple. His touch tempted her, but she had tests to run, and truths to uncover.

So she pushed his hand away as heat coiled tighter in her core, and bit harder as he resisted her. Down his throat now, to his shoulders exploring his firm musculature with keen enthusiasm. His tattoo glistened once his shirt was completely open, blue and red designs catching the light of the room. His firm muscles formed a map for her to explore, a path to follow down, lower and lower until she reached his pants, and opened his fly.

Kaydia wasn't surprised to find Quentin hard. And fuck, as wet as she was, she wanted to fuck herself on his thick cock, ride him like a space cowboy. But there was science to do, and the truth called out to her, like his twitching meat. Slowly she began, lingeringly, tracing her tongue over his smooth head and bulging veins. Bright red lips wrapped around his head, sucking gently, then harder. Deeper. Spit guided further down his cock and she nearly lost herself in that first breathy gasp from his lips. With her own gasp, she pulled off with a wet plop.

A thick string of saliva clung to her lips and his cock as she pulled away, giving Quentin a wild, hunger smile. Again, she swallowed his shaft, half way down his cock and working her way down. Building a rhythm, her head bobbed up and down his length, taking more each time. Needing more each time, fed by his growing moans.

His fingers stroked her hair from her face, fingers trying to be gentle, trying not to desperately grip her head and drive his cock. No, her eager mouth and tongue were much more alluring than driving his cock down her throat. Now each stroke swallowed his length, down to the base. Each of her moans caressed his shaft, vibrating against her vocal chords, in her throat. Spit slick lips slid effortlessly over every swollen inch.

She pulled away as the first jets of salty cum flooded her mouth. The next splashed across her face, pearly strings across her cheeks and lips. Liquid silk rolled down her chin, and lands on her cleavage. One finger traced her lips, collecting the burning proof of his pleasure. She sucked that finger clean, and smirked up at Quentin. "How do I look?"

"Hot." He snapped a still of her cum streaked face, then twisted to reach a towel behind him, and hand it to her. Even after wiping her face clean, her lipstick still looked good.

"Well, I think we've proven without a doubt that there are indeed kiss proof." Kaydia closed the distance between them, and took a kiss from Quentin.

"I have my doubts, actually," he responded in a serious tone, which caught her off guard.

"You do?"

"I mean there are what, thirteen shades of this gloss? How can we say, definitively, that they are kiss proof unless we test each one?" His serious expression softened into a smirk, and he punctuated his joke by squeezing her ass. "The pursuit of science is not an easy task, but I will rise to the occasion. Again and again and again."

Kaydia snickered, and pushed back down into his chair as she stood up. "Dork."

"Wait!" Quentin called, teasing in his faux earnest tone. He gripped her wrist with honest strength, tugging her hard enough to pull her back down into his lap. "We haven't done a control test yet. How can we accurately measure anything without that?"
 
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