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Star Wars: A New Dawn (TheCorsair, Xanaphia)

Mara had trained alongside the inquisitors, and there had never been much emphasis on defense. Offense was the best defense, because a dead opponent cannot hurt you. But it was different when she served the empire. If she hadn’t to fight against the empire, even to just defend herself, she’d have to learn a defensive style. Besides, perhaps indulging the old man might make him open up about whatever it was he was holding back about her mother.

So she approached the circle, calling her mother’s saber to her hand. Impressed by the way it reacted to her, more acutely than the one provided by her father. With a snap hiss, she copied his stance, “I need to learn to get the upper hand on another saber user. How to counter them, how to break through their guard,” she insisted, watching he repeat the motions he had first demonstrated during his chant, trying to mirror him. “Jedi or not, I need to avenge my mother’s death. I need to kill Darth Vader, and I suspect I’ll have to start off with his dark progeny.”

Her father, the emperor, seemed to believe that he could find a use for the twins. That, absent their father’s presence, they could be made loyal, obedient. The idea offended her. There was little doubt in her mind they possessed the same treachery in their blood, less doubt now, after this stunt they pulled. She wasn’t sure how they managed this ruse, but while this was a minor hiccup, it could be used to prove the Vaders were moving against the Emperor, against the strength and stability of the empire.
 
"Avenge your mother's death?" Quentin echoed, slowly moving through the stances of the firm. "And how will killing Darth Vader avenge her? He killed her in defense of Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo, after all."

He understood the impulse, of course. The desire for revenge had burned in him, ever since Bail had found him and replaced his destroyed eyes. Ever since he'd seen the holocast, and learned that his wife had been slain and her body disposed of like garbage. "Shall we kill her as well, for having known Vader? She would have succeeded, had he not been present. Shall we kill her bodyguards, for not having subdued her before she reached the Senator?"

Turn. Parry high. Parry low. "But who sent her to assassinate the Senator? Do we kill them as well, for putting her in that position? Do we hunt down the surviving Black Sun that trained her as an assassin? The law enforcement officers who failed to stop her before she became the Scarlet that was killed by Vader?"

Downward slash, step forward, backhand slash, step back and parry. Turn, and then a sudden strike that caught her blade on his own. "And what of the young Jedi Padawan who, along with his Master, failed to find her when Black Sun first captured her."

He stared at her over the locked blades, then powered his down as he stepped back. "It's easy to speak of vengeance, Mara, but it achieves nothing beyond an ever-expanding circle of blood and death."
 
It was difficult to follow him, as his words cut into her very being, her very purpose. The purpose her father had given her, to channel the pain of her loss. He would take that from her, leave her with nothing but words

“What do you know about filling the void left by her absence?” Mara snarled, anger getting the better of her. He had disengaged from the dueling display, shutting off his weapon, but hers still burned bright. Her bitterness grew, her beliefs challenged by the old Jedi. Bitterness that grew and grew becoming…pain. No, this was something else. A festering emptiness that seemed to hit all at once. She tumbled back a bit, flicking off her saber in the process. What was that?

“What…what just happened?” She gasped, clutching at her chest. “Did you…” she stopped herself. He said he had been cut off, from the force. To ask him was to mock him. She had felt something similar, a week or so back, but it was so much stronger this time. An overwhelming castrophany of terror, and then, nothing. She sat down, still disturbed by existential horror of it.

“You can forget your troubles with those imperial slugs, your highness,” Han interjected as he joined them in the common area, “I told you I’d outrun ‘em.” Mara paid him no mind, instead closed her eyes and breathed deep, trying to process what she had felt. After a moment without response, he added, “Don’t everybody thank me at once.”


“The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more systems will slip between your fingers,” Bail Organa insisted.

“Not after we demonstrate the power of this station,” Tarkin countered.

Leia stood beside her brother in the command center of the Empire’s newest space station, The Death Star. Their father stood behind Bail Organa. while Governor Tarkin explained the purpose of this newest weapon, and how the first planet it would be used on would be left up to Bail. Either his home planet, or the rebel’s base. Leia held her breath, suddenly anxious that the prince would not give up the rebels. Bail argued against the senseless slaughter, but Tarkin remained unmoved by his pleas. Merely insisted he reveal a military target instead.

“Dantooine,” Bail said finally, the word a defeated sound. Leia exhaled in relief.

“Continue with the operation,” Tarkin instructed, turning away from the Bail.

“What?” Leia spoke up now, forgetting her place, forgetting decorum, forgetting for a moment they were on the same side. “He told you where the rebels are!”

“Dantooine is far too remote a system to be an effective demonstration,” Tarkin explained, the coldness in his voice, “We will deal with the rebels soon enough.”

She opened her mouth to further argue. But Luke grabbed her hand, whispering No into her mind. Instead she watched in stilled awe and ire as the weapon powered up, and sent its beam through the planet’s core. The sudden and terrible loss of life hit her, a sensation too terrible for even her twin’s presence to soften.
 
“What do you know about filling the void left by her absence?” Mara challenged, voice full of pain and bitterness.

"I know..." Quentin's voice died off as the world seemed to go grey around him, just for an instant. Grey and lifeless, and he heard a distant cry. An echo of terror, suddenly cut off. Realization dawned as he watched Mara go pale, clutching at her chest as she shut down her own saber. “What…what just happened?” She gasped. “Did you…”

"I... I think so..." Quentin gasped, running his hands through his hair as she took a seat. "Like... death. Death on a scale so, so vast that... I could feel it."

“You can forget your troubles with those imperial slugs, your highness,” Han interjected as he joined them in the common area, “I told you I’d outrun ‘em.” He stared at the two of them, Mara breathing deep and the old man looking worried, and waited. Nobody spoke. “Don’t everybody thank me at once," he added, voice a touch sulky.

"I had every confidence you would," Quentin replied with slight, mocking smile. "Your ship is the fastest ship in the galaxy, remember? Or were you less certain than you claimed?"

Han rose to the bait. "Yeah? She's fast enough, old man. Fast enough to get you and the Princess here to Alderaan." Glancing over at the droids, he added. "Them, too. They part of the grift, somehow? I get the protocol droid, but I don't see how the astromech suits a 'royal retinue'."

000 minced towards Han, extending a hand. "I am Triple-Zero, human cyborg relations and conflict resolution specialist..."

"And the Captain is not in need of your specialized skills," Quentin said, not bothering to look as he rummaged through a locker.

000 made a disappointed sound, and withdrew his hand. "And my counterpart is BT-1. An... astromech droid, yes. Just an astromech droid. Nothing unusual about him at all." His tone brightened. "Oh! A dejarik board! Do you play, captain?"

Chewbacca hooted. "A little," Han said, "but Chewie enjoys it more."

"Oh, my!" 000 turned to face him, and uttered a ululating string of hoots and grunts. Chewbacca howled back and gestured for Mara to move, then took a seat. Soon, droid and Wookie were engrossed in the game.

"Be sure to let Chewie win, once in a while," Han told the droid.

"Oh, no fear of that," 000 assured him. "I am quite terrible at the game." As he spoke, Chewbacca hooted in delight as he captured a piece. "As you can see."

Meanwhile, Quentin tossed Mara a helmet with an opaque blast visor. "Here. Put that on, and go through the form. again. Open yourself to the Force as you do, and let it flow through you instead of seeking to control it."

"The Force?" Han snorted in contempt.

"You don't believe in the Force?" Quentin asked, taking a seat.

"Old man, I've seen a lot of things in my life. But I've never seen any reason to believe in that mystic mumbo-jumbo." He laughed. "Lightsabers and the Force. Grifters and wanna-be jedi. No wonder you wanted to avoid 'Imperial entanglements'."
 
Mara didn’t want to meditate any further. Not now, not after that void that she felt grew in the force. It left her feeling shaken, empty. She needed distraction, needed to feel alive, to counterbalance the brush with death. And Han’s arrogant dismissal of the force sparked an idea.

“How about a little wager then, Captain? Since you are so confident that this mystic mumbo jumbo doesn’t exist,” She challenged, meeting that ever present smug smirk with her own. He looked curious, but didn’t answer, so she continued. “You pistol has a stun setting, doesn’t it? Or did you modify that too?”

“It does.”

“So, set it to stun, and take a shot at me. Take ten shots at me. Land a hit, and you win. If I deflect them all, I win.”

“And what are you wagering?”

She met his leer with one of her own. Taking in his form the same way she knew he had done with her. When he thought she wasn’t paying attention, of course. Briefly she imagined riding him, fucking herself with his tight, firm body until the confusion and frustration of the day evaporated form her mind. “Let’s…call it a favor. I could certainly use an owed favor from the man that flies the fastest ship in the galaxy.”

He seemed to be considering it, so she opened her mind to him, letting the fantasy flow from her mind to his, suggesting this wager might be a win/win. She kept her face stoic, not hinting as to what she was doing, looking over the helm Quentin suggested she use.

“Look, I’ll even wear this,” She suggested, putting it on over her head, “fair enough?”
 
"A favor?" Han laughed, even as an enticing thought drifted through his mind. A spectacularly vivid fantasy of the redhead riding him long and hard, and he nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, that could work. Hate to win so easily, though.

"Look, I’ll even wear this,” She suggested, putting the blast helmet on over her head, “fair enough?"

He laughed again. "You are crazy, princess. But yeah, sure. If it makes you happy. I'll take it easy on you, though." Drawing his blaster, he adjusted the settings. "Minimum power. It'll sting, but won't knock you out. Never let it be said that Han Solo died insult to injury."

Cherie hooted absently from the game table, and Han made a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, well, Ploovo had it coming. Didn't he?"

"Be mindful of your feelings, Mara," Quentin said, lowering the visor on the helmet.

"Oh, here in a moment she won't be able to mind anything but!" Han mocked.

Quentin ignored him. "Take this as seriously as any training. Open your perceptions to the Force. Allow it to flow through you, guide you." He rapped his knuckles on the helmet. "Don't get cocky," he added with a grin.

"She can't see and wants me to shoot her," Han snarled, bolstering his blaster and flexing his fingers. "But late for that advice, don't you think?"

Taking a seat, Quentin shrugged. "Possibly. Now, whenever you're ready..?"

Han, it seemed, was faster than he'd expected. The smuggler's pistol seemed to materialize in his hand, and he'd fired three shots before Quentin even registered the draw.
 
Opening her mind to the pathways of the force, Mara found she could still see with the visor on. Not clearly, not the way she saw with her eyes. But she could sense Han’s nonchalant presence in one direction, and Quentin’s patronizing judgment in another and the droids and the Wookie crowded around the Dejarik board behind her. The force didn’t show her details, but she filled in an overconfident smirk on Han’s face and a quietly concerned expression on Quentin’s feature, that was somehow both above her antics, and yet inextricably involved.

Just over the hum of her saber she heard Quentin give the smuggler the go ahead. Three shots followed, a tight grouping centered at her chest. A kill shot, if he intended it. She didn’t have to move much to deflect the shots away, just the slight twisting of her wrists to keep her safe.

“Luck,” Han charged, as she heard him stand up and move.

“Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll give you more chances to hit on me,” she quipped, shifting her stance as she heard him walk around her. Another came from the right, which she able to intercept with much struggle. Two ore came in quick succession from the left, the first of which forced her to scramble to deflect it.

“I think you want to lose,” he teased, his voice coming from behind her. Another blast come then, forcing her to hold her saber over her shoulder to protect her back. She pivoted to block the next shot, sensing his intentions from the subtle change in pace.

“And yet you are still having such a hard time hitting it,” she shot back, just parrying a discharge to the kneecaps. The tension between them was palpable, so thick she was sure she could cut it with her saber. On e shot left. Trusting the force, she poured herself into the connections she felt, letting it direct her.“Tell me, Captain, are you always such a quick shot?”
 
"Only when a lady's asking for it," came the Corellian's reply as he took aim. She'd been lucky, was all. Insanely lucky, waving her glowing pigsticker in the air like that. Protecting her upper body, which made sense. Keep the blade in front of the center of mass, and you boosted the odds . Which was why, he decided as he trailed the blaster's snout down ine thigh, he wasn't going to play her game anymore. Sighting in on her knee, he slowly pulled the trigger.

The green blade blurred as he did, and the blaster shot deflected into the ceiling.

"Bullshit," Han laughed, not believing his eyes. "Hiw'd you do that?"

"Through the Force," Quentin remarked.

"Bullshit," Han repeated. "Stage magic. Tricks. You two are good, yeah. But i saw a guy on Dantooine once, used to make people float. He claimed it was the Force, too. It'll take more than sleight of hand to con me."

Quentin rose, and took the helmet from Mara's head. "And there you have it," he murmured. "The first step of a Jedi into the ocean if the Force." He gave her a smile. "Well done." Then he turned, tossing the helmet to Han. "How long until we reach Alderaan?"

Han casually caught the helmet with one hand. "I laid in a bit if a round-about course, to throw the Imps off. It'll set them off halfway across the galaxy, but it added some time. So..." He checked his watch. "Nine hours, thirty-seven minutes."

"To Alderaan?" Quentin lifted an eyebrow. "That is impressive." He hid his smile at the way the smuggler visibky preened at the praise of his ship. "In that case, do you have a cabin I could rest in?"

"Hmm? Oh." Han gestured. "Back that way. First two beling to me and Chewie. Grab any one you want, after that."
 
Mara was still too keyed up to rest or relax. Her heart still pounding, still feeling the effects of that force echo from not so long ago. Trying to replace that feeling with the thrill and exhilaration of flirting and seduction.

It was almost working, too. The look of disbelief on Han’s face had wiped away the smirk for just a bit. She wore the smirk this time, only half listening to what Quentin said. Only catching the sense of pride that carried his remarks. He must have really cared about her mother, to concern himself so much with her daughter.

She watched Quentin head off toward the cabins, banishing him from her mind as he left her sight. Still, she was left with hours to kill, while she waited for them to arrive on Alderaan. Again and again her mind drifted towards the smuggler, as she considered how to spend those hours.

“So, what kinds of modifications did you make to the ship?” Mara encouraged, moving closer to Han. Inviting him to invite her somewhere more private, more intimate. “Maybe you could show me?”
 
Holstering his pistol with a nonplussed air, Han watched Quentin leave. "He," he declared slowly, "is a wierd old bird. Where'd you find? Ome of thise loony cult centers, like Jedha or Dantooine? You'd think he really believes this stuff." Because he taught someone to cut blaster bolts out of the air. Blind. Frowning, he shoved the thought away. No need to get spooked, just because of some stage tricks. Besides, Mara had decided to move pleasantly into his personal space.

"So, what kinds of modifications did you make to the ship?" she asked, standing in a way that showed off her figure to best effect. "Maybe you could show me?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yeah, come on. I'll give you the grand tour, check things out top to bottom. Got everything under control, Chewie?"

The Wookie growled something, then leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head in a very human gesture of gloating triumph. 000 stared at the board as BT-1 whistled and beeped. "No, we certainly can't do that," the proticol droid admonished his counterpart. "Master Quentin was most explicit in his orders. Shall we play again, Chewbacca?"

Han shook his head as he led Mara into the circular main corridor. "And those droids... you two work the oddest grift I've ever seen, and I've seen plenty. Jedi and Imperial princesses and crazy droids, oh my." He chuckled. "Still, not my business. The Falcon's my business." He slapped a bulkhead. "Started out as a YT-1300 - at least, that's what the registrqtion says. She's been rebuilt so many times she's utterly unique now."

Pausing, he opened a door with a flourish. "Engine access room," he said. "The sublights are off a Kuat Shrike-class interceptor. Alk perfectly legal, though." He laughed. "Got the waivers and everything. Oh, and something else..."

Leading her in, he steered Mara towards a corner of the cramped room that contained an elaborate collection of glass pipes and tubing. "Spares from an old fluidic control system we ripped out a while back," he said, grabbing two flasks. Twisting a lever, he filled each about two-thirds full of a transparent, slightly yelliwish fluid.

"It's a still, now," he cintinued, handing her ine of the flasks. Her expression brought a cocky, crooked smile to his lips. "And I haven't killed me or Chewie with it yet." The grin didn't fade as he lifted his flask. "Your health, and no Imperial entanglements."
 
“You put Kaut Shrike sublights on this?” Mara asked, shaking her head, “But what did you do about the exhaust? You don’t have a output system in this thing. I mean, I guess you’d have to, if you got the waivers for it, unless those are forged or result of bribery and…” She laughed, having clearly answered her own question, “Yeah, okay, all perfectly legit, right?”

Following him into the engine room, she found they had to be quite close together, nearly touching. She opted to lean against the cool metal wall, arms crossed under her bust as he explained about the improvised distiller, giving him a skeptical look as he offered a flask. She looked at the liquid for a moment, and brought it to her nose, hit with a strong whiff of potent alcohol, “You really drink this?” She asked, grimacing as the odor lingered. But he smirked that damn sexy, incensing smirk, and now how could she back down? So she clinked her flash with his and threw her head back to swallow the swill before she could taste. It was strong, with a hell of a bite, but not nearly as pungent as it smelled.

“That…isn’t all that bad, actually,” she said with a cough, “Another, to your skill in evading the imperials?” She asked, taking the flask from his hand, brushing her fingers against his in the process. Her body brushed passed his as she filled each one. She held his gaze as she passed it back to him, tapping their glasses together again before taking the shot. “How many of these does it usually take for you to start feeling stupid?”
 
Han took his flask and knocked it back, unwilling to let Mara show him up. "Depends on what you mean by stupid," he laughed, running his fingers over the back of her hand as he took her flask. "It took three in the Academy to get me up in a Z-95, blazing down Heller's Gap with all my instruments disabled." He refilled both flasks, and handed her one. "Took five to get me signed on to fly a bunch of treasure hunters out towards the Sunil Rift on spec and a promise of shares. And it only took two to get me to do this."

As he said the words his arm hooked around hers, pulling her close. "Ever play Drift?" he asked, his face close enough to hers that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "Works like this: we each pull, and try to get the other's drink. Winner get the drink, loser pays a penalty." His eyes roamed her face and chest, making it clear what sort of direction his thoughts were going with penalties. "Game keeps going until someone gives up or is too drunk to continue."

He gave her his cocky smirk again. "You up for it, Princess?" His arm tightened slightly, hard muscle pulling against her arm. "Or has life as in the Imperial court been too sheltered for that?"
 
Mara hummed approvingly as Han got closer, feeling that firm body press against hers as their arms hooked. Nodding as he explained the game, she returned his grin with her won. “Can’t say I’ve ever played, but I should warn you. I hate to lose.” She murmured, tickling his ear with her lips.

She hardly waited for him to declare the game had started, before getting into it. Breasts flatten into his chest as she pushed him back against the wall. Grinding up against him as she stood on tip toes, trying to reach the flask he held out of reach. Her own flask was behind her back trying to evade him as well as she could while their arms were linked.

She was forced back, enjoying the way his body felt pressing against hers, enjoying the game, but she still wanted to win. Needed to win, because he was so smug and self-assured. Needed to win, because he’d be hot, pinned beneath her as she rode out her pleasure. But each time she pursued, he pulled back, lifting the flask where she couldn’t reach it. And when he went on the aggressive, she just held her flask down and behind her, far away from his face.

“Does anyone actually win this?” Mara growled, pulling back a bit before bolting towards his drink again. Missing his drink again. With a snicker she shook her head, “Or is this just an excuse to rub up against me?”
 
"Well, that depends on what you mean by 'win'. Doesn't it, Princess?" Han taunted, pushing her back and lunging at her drink. She twisted a little, and the feel of her tight body moving against his distracted him just enough that he missed. Then he had to move as well, pulling back as she moved on his flask. "A lot of the time it means spilled booze, and that's drinks for the house."

She shifted a little and he caught one of her legs between his thighs. In theory, it was to restruct her movements. In actual fact, though, he just used it as an excuse to grind his erection against her hip. Accidentally, of course. Damn, he wanted to win. Because hot and tight as she was, she'd be amazing under him. And he'd had enough women to recognize that look in her eyes. She wanted it too.

He flashed her another grin as she went for his flask again. "Not that easy, Princess," he taunted, even though he barely kept it from her. He was fast, he knew, but her reflexes were as good as his. Maybe even better. So that meant he needed to even the odds.

Still grinning, he caught her by the hip and shoved. As he did he moved with her, pinning her between his own hard-muscled body and the bulkhead, their arms and flasks trapped between them. He gripped a handfull of her ass, pulling her hips tight against his. "All's fair in Drift," he assured her as he tried to grab her flask with his mouth, "long as you don't spill the booze."
 
The way Han leaned in he could have been going for her flask or her breast, and with his erection grinding her hips and his hand on her ass, either seemed just as likely. Nearly resigning herself to lose this round, trapped as she was by his strong physique, his words gave her an idea. Mara had come at this game from the wrong angle. Instead of trying to get her mouth on his flask, she just needed to get the alcohol in her mouth. So, while he held her ass, and captured one leg, she still had the other.

She let him support her weight, pushing her foot up to brace on the wall behind them. This put him off balance, tilting his flask to her advantage. It also caused her to grind her slit against his throbbing hard on, which was a nice bonus. Fuck, he was so hard and thick, from what she could tell, and she wanted him inside her. With that distraction, his drink spilled from his flask, but in her new position she was able to catch it in her mouth, a few drops splattering her lips and chin and neck.

With a triumphant cry she threw back her own drink, enjoying the burn of the alcohol down her throat. There was another whoop form the sting of the moonshine, the game and his body pushing back against everything that had happened today. So giddy from all of it, she had even realized she pushed her lips against him until her tongue was dueling with his. She was definitely feeling the effect of her drinks now, heady and dizzy and horny, hungering for his taste as the kiss grew deeper. Still, she pulled back from him with a snap, leaving them both aching for more, “So, what kind of penalties are talking about? And are we going again?”
 
Han's eyes went wide when Mara's free leg hooked around his waist. Fuck but she felt amazing, grinding against him like that. Even if he did have to brace himself against the bulkhead - gripping her ass tighter and grinding her crotch harder into his cock as a result. And then, suddenly, she was catching the jet juice that spilled from his flask, whooping and gloating in triumph as she followed up the drink with her own before kissing him fiercely. “So, what kind of penalties are talking about? And are we going again?”

"Oh, I can go all night Princess," Han leered back. "And your win, so your choice of penalties." His hand squeezed her ass as he pressed into her, letting her feel his length and his hard chest flattening her breasts. "What do you want?" Then his lips were on her again, exploring her mouth with his tongue with a hungry, desperate intensity. Distantly he heard the flask clatter against the deck as he released it, using the now free hand to tug at the zipper of her jumpsuit. It didn't open very far, not with her body molded into his, but he opened it enough to trace the valley between her soft breasts with a callused finger.

"Winner sets the penalties, after all," he gasped as he broke the kiss, one nail scraping the skin of one breast as he did. His hips rocked against hers, dry-humping her in a promise of what he wanted to do to her. With his adjusted position his hand was able to explore further, molding to the curve of her breast and teasing a stiff nipple with his thumb. Offering her a rakish grin, he caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged gently, then kissed her again. "What do you have in mind?"
 
“All night huh? Imma hold you to that,” Mara slurred, giggling. Damn, Han’s hand and mouth felt amazing all over her. Suddenly her jumpsuit felt sweltering, and she wanted to peel it off. Wanted Han to peel her out of it.

"What do you want?"

“What do I want?” She cooed, distracted from answering by his tongue moving in her mouth. I want to ride your face, see if your smart mouth is so smart when it’s smothered my cunt. But kissing him was distracting, the heat of his mouth and the taste of his lips and she lost track of what they were doing. And then she was moaning as he began unzipping her, offering her the barest relief from the blood boiling beneath her skin.

"Winner sets the penalties, after all," Han reminded her, as she lost sight of the game. As his fingers teased her body, making her arousal that much more intense. "What do you have in mind?"

“I…think,” she groaned, squeezing her legs around his waist, gripping his shoulder to get a grip on her lust filled mind. “I think you have too much clothes on.” She managed to get herself back on the ground, swaying a bit from the drink. She leaned into his chest as she worked his vest off, enjoying how firm his body was. Once she managed his shirt off, taking a break to caress his skin, she retrieved the flasks, refilling them and hooking her arm in with his. “Round 2?”
 
"Too many clothes, hm?" Han laughed, his voice a little thick. It wasn't the only thing thick, either. He felt a little light-headed, partly from the booze and partly from the way his blood had drained away into his cock while Mara tugged at his shirt and worked it off. Fuck but she felt good against him, and the jumpsuit she wore didn't do much to hide how she'd look when he peeled her out if it. Particularly since he'd nearly unzipped it to her navel. When she spoke again, though, he gave her his tradenark grin.

"All right," he said, recovering the flasks and strokong his fingers the length of her hand as he did. "Glutton for punishment, I assume?" Nit that he'd mind losing, really. Flexibke as she was, she was probably a wildcat in the sack. So he handed her a flask and held his arm up. "Ready?"

They linked arms and he immediately jerked backwards, outting his weight into it as well as his strength. She was strong, no doubt about it, but sheer mass counted for something as well. Then he twisted, dragging hervaround and pressing her left side into the wall, grabbing her ass and grinding his cock against her hip as he did. With lightning reflexes he grabbed the top of her flask and jerked, pulling it from her hand and throwing his head back. The liquor burned as it gurgled down his throat in ine long swallow, making his head reel.

"Now," he said, spitting the flask out, "I'm not the only one with too many clothes on." He squeezed her ass again, fingers pressing between her legs from behind. "Get that top off."
 
Mara had intended to tease him, as they started up again, holding her drink where he could just almost reach it, before pulling away. Lure him into pressing that hard body against her. But he was much faster than she expected, especially since he was down two drinks on her. So she succeeded in getting him to rub up against her, enjoying the feel of sweat slick abs too much to notice he was already drinking from her flask. “Oh shit,” she giggled, shrugging, too tipsy to care much about losing.

"Get that top off."

“I would,” She explained, untangling from him, “but there is a problem with your request. You see…” she unzipped her jumpsuit as far as it would go, which was about where her legs met, “This whole thing is a one piece. There is no top or bottom. So if I lose it, I lose everything.” Pulling her arms from the sleeves, she let gravity dictate her meaning, letting it slip off her body and hang on her boots, until she was merely clad in undergarments. She braced one booted foot against the wall behind them, once more spreading her legs for him, while she worked at the lace and buckles, kicking one off, and then the other.

“Now, if we are going again, I think we need to come up with much more interesting penalties,” She decided, grinding bare thighs against his hard on. Fuck, she wanted him. Wanted him on his knee, savoring her desire. Wanted him against the wall, fucking her with that thick cock. “Winner of this round gets the first orgasm?”
 
There was nothing explicitly erotic about her outfit. A functional jumpsuit, and simple underwear beneath. But Han fairly shook with lust as she let the jumpsuit fall to the ground and bent iver, rubbing that fine ass if hers against his aching dick as she unlaced her boots. He responded by running hhis hands over her bare back, fucking back against ber as she spoke. "Winner of this round gets the first orgasm?" she suggested.

"Sure," he replied, going to his knees behind her. Callused fingers hooked the waistband of her panties, dragging them iver her ass and diwn her thighs. His teeth scraped her flesh, working lower as he caressed her thighs. He moaned into her slit as his tongue explored the glistening proof of her arousal on her lips.

"Looks like I win," he gasped, spreading her sex with his fingers. He thrust his tongue into her, letting her desire drip into his mouth and diwn his chin. He groaned into her again as he felt her silken walls clench on his tongue, and he stroked her clit as he savored her. "So I get the first orgasm, right?"
 
“Are you sure you won? Because it feels like…fuck…It feels like I did… I’m so close…” It was effort to pull away, effort not to follow her bliss over the edge. She dropped to her knees beside him, pulling his into a kiss, tasting her dew on his lips and tongue. Hungering for that musk, until she sucked every last drop from his tongue. While they kissed her hands worked at this belt, jingling and jangling as she forced it open.

His cock seemed to met her as she reached into his pants for it, bobbing with each pulse of blood. She pushed him back against the bulkhead as she stroked him, nipping at his jaw. Fingers tracing his veins and the length of his shaft. “Is this how you want to cum, captain?” she teased, gripping him firmly as she moved, “Want to shoot your seed all over my stomach and breasts, and paint me in your climax?” Faster now, his moans and sighs encouraging her.

She had wanted him to beg, to beg her to ride him and grace his cock with her cunt. She want to hear this proud smuggler beg her, abase himself in need of her body. But the throbbing of his thick meat was too tantalizing, too inviting, making her drool from both sets of lips. So she dragged his pants off, sitting him on the floor against the hull wall. Straddling him, dripping cunt trembling as she spread herself open over the head of his meat. Trembling as she slid down his length, trembling and whimpering as he stretched her. “So thick…” she groaned, shifting her hips to let him press into her walls, “So fucking thick…”

Thighs tightened around him as she rose up his length, clenching all the while, relaxing as she sunk back down to the base of him. “I hope you are fucking close,” she growled, fists rough in his hair as she forced him to look her in eyes, “because I am.”
 
"Fuck, yeah," Han groaned, biting at Mara's lips as she stroked his cock. "You'd... like that, huh?" His hands fisted in her hair, pulling her in so his tongue could fuck her mouth as she jerked him off. Then she pushed him back and down, her wet slit engulfing his cock and making him gasp. "So... fucking tight," he groaned, filling his hands with her ass as he filled her cunt with his rock-hard meat. "Fuck, you... fuck..."

Fingernails dug into the globes of her ass as his back and biceps tightened, aiding her motiins as she fucked herself on his shaft - fucked him with her slick, hit cunt. "Close?" he laughed, voice thick with lust. "Fuck yeah, I'm close. You want it, don't you Princess." There was a glint in his eye, and a sarcastic quality to the last word that came through even as he gasped with mounting pleasure. "Makes... makes you hot... I bet... fucking... fucking a stranger?"

Grunting he bit at her throat, nails raking red tracks up her ass as his fingers slipped. Then he shifted, pushingbher back onto the cool alliy of the deck. His hands slipped on her flesh as he rose up between her thighs, then he gripped her hips and sheathed himself deep in her body once more. "Not... not a palace bed..." he laughed, voice coming in bursts as he pounded into her. Face contorted, he struggled to keep up his pace, fought his building orgasm. ""Fuck... gonna... onna..." The words dissolved into meaningless syllables, then rose to a roar as he slammed into her back arching as he pumped his orgasm into her cunt.
 
“Maybe… maybe I do. Maybe I…fuck, I like fucking…fucking…fuck.” She moaned, running fingers through her hair. Enjoying the pressure of his dense shaft against her slit. Lost in the fucking, lost in the lust she felt and felt from him, feeding her own, she wasn’t paying attention as he shifted. Didn’t anticipate the movement until her back on the floor, tensing from the shock of cool metal. Still tensing as he shoved himself back in her, body arching into his.

It was hard, not to cum then, as her body swallowed his cock. Hard because this angle had him throbbing against her clit, and she was already close. As tempting as it was, to chase her pleasure over the edge, she didn’t want to lose, whatever losing was in this scenario. So she opened her mind to his, just a little, letting her pleasure seeping into his mind. She didn’t think he’d be able to tell what she was doing, as subtle as she was. Besides, he didn’t believe in that mystic mumbo jumbo, did he? All she had to do was drive him towards his climax, so she could allow herself release.

Maybe, just maybe, it was more than she intended, as his face twisted and his words dissolved into nonsense. Not that she could think too hard on that, struggling to hold back her bliss, her control slipping as he plowed into her far wall. Trembling, afraid she was going to give in, she gasped as he flooded her with his passion, white hot as it filled her and flowed from her lips onto their thighs. Then it was her turn to cry out, relief and triumph and ecstasy all rolled into one throaty sound.

“Fuck…”She gasped, still catching her breath, wearing a stupid, relaxed grin on her face. Stretching, she could just reach the flasks and the still, pour them each another shot, “We’re going until neither can move anymore, right?”
 
"That's my plan, Princess," Han gasped, bracing himeelf above her. His cock was still semi-hard and buried in her, and the way she fkexed around him as she stretched to get the flasks sent shivers of delight along his nerves. "Git hours yet to fill, after all," he added, ricking his hips against hers.

The first swallow of jet juice burned, cold and harsh as he swallowed it. He he took another mouthfull he paused, watching her. Then he shifted, letting his mouth open above hers, and watched as the trickle of ckear liquid splattered on her lios and dribbled down her chin. "Supposed to catch it, Princess," he laughrd, loeering his face towards hers. "Now I have to clean up."

His tongue traced her lips and his mouth her cheek and chin, tasting the harsh liquor on her skin. Teeth joined in, scraping along her jaw as he sucked in her flesh, making soft noises if enjoyment as he did. Smirking, he rose up again and grasped his flask. "Let's try again," he said, raising the mouth to his lips. "Try not to waste it again, all right?"

This time he moved as he ooened his mouth, letting the warmed liquor splash over her breasts. "Well look at that," he scolded. "You moved again." His mouth found the crimson tip of one breast, teeth nipping almost painfully at the nipple before caressing it with the damp softness of his tongue. "Kerp that up," he murmured as his tongue dragged down into the valley between her breasts, "and I'll put you over my knee, and tan your ass red as yiur hair."
 
Mara had to sit up a bit in order to drink, which she really did need because she was parched. It was a hot, hungry fuck between them, and the engine wasn’t exactly cool. But she squealed as jet juice splashed her lips and throat, not expecting that from Han. But his playful teasing was welcome, a pleasant diversion from the drama of the day.

“Maybe a little warning, next time?” she suggested, just missing his lips for a kiss. He started up again, and despite her efforts, more alcohol spilled on her body. Breasts this time. Definitely on purpose. But she groaned as he bit and sucked at her tits, the sharpness of his teeth interesting and arousing in her current state. And even his threat made her clench in excitement.

"Keep that up,and I'll put you over my knee, and tan your ass red as your hair."

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try,” she growled, tugging his hair to bring her face back to hers, hungering for a kiss. While her tongue dueled his, she shifted her hips, waiting for him to break the kiss to breath before bucking him off her. Once more she was on top, filling another flask with jet juice. Filling her mouth with drink, she pulled him back up to her, pushing lips onto his and letting the liquid drip from her mouth to his. Letting it spill down both their bodies mixing with the musk of sex and sweat.

Figuring she was already half drenched in liquor, she rose up over him, teasing his lips with a throbbing, erect nipple. Inviting him to lick and suck and bite at it, before pouring jet juice down the slope of her breasts. “Don’t spill a drop now…”
 
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