Title: Jaxxon's Twi'leks 15 --- Survivors
author: helgaleena helgaleenas@yahoo.com
Series: post TPM
Rating: NC-17
Warning: f-word, implied het, slash
Spoilers: Dark Horse Comics: Twilight, Emissaries to Malastare, Rite of Passage by Ostrander and Duursema
Disclaimer: Lucas owns the StarWars universe and I am nothing
Summary: Where this fic meets up with Dark Horse canon, at last. Fortunately for my idols Ostrander and Duursema, I am mainly here for the Lepi and Twi'lek slash. Otherwise you would know more about Devaronian sex than even I would like. For more on Jaxxon, see the webstrip, http://www.jaxxons11.com
Prologue--Ryloth
To Asante, it was clear that Senator Chom Frey Kaa would have to be notified of this. His disreputable relation, now known as Bib Fortuna, had placed his gravid consort under Pol Secura's protection.
She had arrived at the same time as the Kiffar and the Lepi "traders". After rycrit products for Coachelle-- what a laugh. But their tokens were good.
She had invoked the Twi'Jani code of hospitality. It had of course been honored. She was given a room, and unspecified duties in the heirs' nursery. An obvious case of Bib choosing his consort unwisely, and sending her off with the means to pay her way for a few years. But what had seemed most peculiar to Asante was that ragged scrap of a doll she held pressed tightly to her gauze-shrouded belly, throughout her interview in the reception hall. The thing seemed to really unsettle her colleague, their host Pol Secura.
He called Asante over afterwards, from her place of observation in the shadows. His cerulean face was serene, but his lekku were restless in a way she was beginning to know the meaning of. "Your fellow Kiffar wants to buy ryll. And more. What do you make of him?"
She saw no reason to hide her suspicions at this juncture, so she told the truth. "That one has the markings of a Guardian-- of a Vos, yet he seems ignorant of our ties to Kiffex. Only one Vos I know who has been absent that long from doings there. He has to be Quinlan Vos, the Jedi."
"Jedi-- rycrit spit! What has he to do with Fortuna, then?"
"Fortuna must not know he is Jedi, thinking him only a disaffected Guardian, like me."
"And the Lepi?"
"An ordinary smuggler with a taste for your women. Did you see his crew? They are all Twi'leki females! I shadowed the ones negotiating re-supply. One Rutian who held all the credits. One Lethan who did all the talking, and some mixed-bloods of no importance. It is likely that they truly are all refugees from employment by Jabba and Gardulla."
"Then the main problem is what to do about the Jedi. Wait-- the Rutian female-- is she called Aayla?"
Asante massaged her green-tattooed brow a moment, recalling. "Yes, she is. The others called her that name. Her age is sixteen or seventeen standard years." She looked questioningly at Councillor Pol, but he was too preoccupied to respond.
"Rycrit spit gone rancid!" he expostulated, and his bright blue lekku began to twine around each other in considerable agitation. He was cogitating earnestly, tapping his chin with one pointed fingernail. It really turned her off, the way Twi'lek males kept their nails sharp as daggers that way. Not to mention they rejected her as too hairy, most of the time...
But Secura was recalling that the Jedi had taken away one of the excess female children of his line, leaving a wampa hungry, some years back. The mother was consumed later, of course, once the Jedi had left. But that infant, who was written down as a fiscal loss, had been called Aayla. That meant two Jedi. And he was honor-bound not to personally kill a relation.
Thoughts of the wampa, and other exotic beasts the clan had handled, reminded him of another solution. He caught the eye of the senator's Kiffar agent.
"Asante, when the next shipment of ryll-drugged creatures is sent to the mine, be sure that the Jedi know about it, and follow. They will not survive."
"Understood." Her black-ringed, plum-dark lips curved into a smile. She went off to think of ways that the knowledge of the ryll-feedings might percolate to the unsuspecting newcomers.
Asante was not much of a Vos. She was only part Vos, had no special talents, and had grown up in the suburbs on Kiffu. It was just useful to pretend to be a true Guardian sometimes, thanks to the tattoos. If she had been a true Vos, she would be working closer to central beast receiving on Kiffex. The really renegade Vos didn't trust her, and she had to admit they were right. The lure of Coruscant credits long ago eclipsed any patriotism she might have felt for her home system. But even she knew about the legendary Quinlan, the one whom Sheyf Tinte herself had lost to the Jedi.
Her heart beat a little faster, remembering how handsome he had looked among all the motley non-humanoids in the audience hall. He had the true Vos gift-- that was why he bound his hands like that. Maybe if she wore her spacer's gauntlets continually, as if she herself were touch-sensitive, she could get away with touching him.... The trouble was that, if he were to touch her in return, he would know all.
But she must not let her imagination run away with her like this. Jedi had scary mind-powers as well. Better to flirt with Villie, that arrogant Devaronian, than to risk hypnosis by a Jedi, no matter how handsome.
Before she had gotten far in her planning, Secura summoned her again. " I have an addition to make to the roster of drugged creatures to feed the mine spiders. Senator Kaa wishes us to dispose of Fortuna's heir. His consort has been reassigned to mining."
Then unveiled annoyance, mixed with unease, suffused his aristocratic features. "And get that filthy rag of a doll she carries and burn it!"
Whatever the doll represented, it would trouble him no more. And this considerably simplified things for Asante. She would instruct the palace staff to let the Kiffar, and his Lepi, and his females, know precisely what happened, when the concubine disappeared. They would track that bait, and she would trail them, to make certain they did not return. This way, she could feast her eyes on him for a little while longer, if only from afar.
Things progressed according to plan. The Twi'lek Niala had come to visit the Fortuna consort, and was turned away. The servants had readily told of the "reassignment" and what it really meant. She had gone running to her superiors, the Jedi. When the shipment of ryll-poisoned creatures left, Asante was watching, and easily spotted Vos and his student.
Her heart skipped a beat when they leaped so gracefully to the roof of the transport, Quinlan's hair and cloak billowing around him like the wings of a great dark bird. Those black locks and strong chin drew her eyes as a magnet drew metal. She kept a discreet distance behind them on her swoop.
They leaped off and concealed themselves at the entrance to the mine, while the transport continued in. Cautiously they entered after it. Behind them, like their fates, came Asante.
At the feeding place, the workers were making haste to unload their cargo of the dead and dying, laced with the drug. All wanted to be safely on the surface when the 'monsters' came. As the transport rumbled upward, she saw the Jedi emerge from their concealment, examining the piled creatures by the light of their sabres, looking for signs of life. She saw light gleaming on the triple red eyes of the giant arachnids, and knew she must act soon.
This was the moment to ensure their demise. She raised her stunblaster and hit the little Twi'lek squarely in the back. But too late-- she had seen the spiders, too, and cried out to her master. Vos saw her being stunned. Before she could hit him, too, he put out his blade so she couldn't see to aim. One blast to where he last had been was all she could manage, before she had to retreat. Any more shots, and the blasterbeam's origins would make her the target.
It was lucky she had her infrared sights, and knew the exit route quite well. Nek take it, she had almost made sure of them both. This was the first time she'd had to assassinate Jedi, but she'd heard they were tough to kill. She could only hope the spiders did their part. She paused, back to the corridor wall, to get her breath.
"Hey, Asante doll." She jumped. A familiar arm, completely encased in jointed leather armor, snaked out of the gloom and pulled her back against a chest hung with clanking metal amulets. She recognized the breath, hissed between the teeth, with its tang of corroded silver.
"Villie! What are you doing in here?" she hissed.
He kept his voice to a low rumble. "Keeping an eye on Kiffar yum-yum, that's what. Jedis good as dead. Let spiders eat now. Come pay attention to Villie."
With a contemptuously easy squeeze, he wrung the blaster out of her hand, and caught it with the other. While he tucked it into his waistband, the other hand pulled her ample breasts against him, by winding itself into her fleecy hair. Despite herself, she was aroused.
Hey, he wasn't humanoid-- well, only barely, but he was so-- male. His ship, the Inferno, was comfortable, and probably nearby. And she knew what those horns could do. If she couldn't have pretty cousin Quinlan, she could ease her frustrations with the Devaronian. Unlike Twi'leks, he appreciated hair on a woman.
Daylight was filtering in from the surface, so she switched her goggles to ultraviolet. Then she smiled, and wrapped one of her legs around his. And with no effort at all, Villie slung her under his arm and carried her out into the Floating Rock Gardens, one hand still tangled into the back of her dark hair.
.............................
"I contacted Master Tholme, and he informed me that the mine creatures are not native to Ryloth. They're probably from Kessel. He thinks their illegal importation can be traced through the beast smugglers on Nar Shaddaa. So we go there." Quinlan Vos rubbed a filthy hand across his sweaty face, over the yellow stripes. Stripes of grime were added.
He was slumped on the common room bench in the Rabbit's Foot, with one of Jaxxon's ales open and untouched before him. Jaxxon had set Foot down in the landing area of the Floating Rock Gardens Planetary Monument, and his partner had staggered aboard, lugging the dead weight of his apprentice. She'd been stunned, and he'd told the others it had been a kidnap attempt by slavers. They hadn't found Kyara-- alive. And they had left Ryloth immediately.
"Well, I guess it makes sense for us to do the trip; we're closer to Hutt space than he is. And I told Foot the new course coordinates already, while you were settling in your Aayla." Jaxxon scratched his greenish muzzle, considering. "What do I tell my ladies about the detour? Coachelle is the other direction."
"Hey, it's Nar Shaddaa, and we're smuggling, right? And I trust Aayla to tell your ladies whatever it won't harm them to know, when she wakes." The dark eyes beneath the heavy brows beneath the grime were focused on nothing. They drifted shut, even as the Jedi's spine straightened. He was going into some sort of meditative state.
More power to him, thought Jaxxon, and put on a holodrama he'd seen twenty times and knew was good, at a low volume. He could darn well meditate in his own way, thanks very much. He gave the Kiffar half an hour, then drank the ale himself.
As the end credits began scrolling through the viewer, Quin's eyes finally opened again. He smiled to see Jaxxon still there.
"As captain, I'm ordering you to eat a dinner ration."
"Fine. What happened to the ale?"
"It was going flat, so I ordered you another one. Here." The Lepi reached out to one side and pulled a fresh container out of the cool unit. He switched it to his other hand and deposited it on the table in front of Quin, all without moving from his lounger. The ale was joined by a procarb packet, before Quin could even blink.
Force, that Lepi just took up all the space in a room sometimes, without even trying.
He unwrapped the procarb and made himself eat it. He took a swallow of the ale.
It was wet, and relaxing. He and Aayla were safe, for now. It was okay for his chin to hit his chest--
"Oh no, you don't..." Wiry arms were hoisting him up. Jaxxon was walking him to the fresher. Some time after that he noticed that he was no longer dressed, and neither was Jaxxon. The Lepi was on his knees, rubbing sudsing compound onto him with his big, soft hands. It took nearly all of Quin's concentration to remain upright, but he had enough to notice what a relief it was to have his pores free of the dust of Ryloth.
He found that he was absorbing Jaxxon's concern for him directly though his unclogged skin. The Lepi must also be getting a very graphic replay of his experiences with the giant spiders, the mental projections of invisibility while they fed, all aspects of his fight for their survival down that supposedly abandoned mine shaft.
"By the hundred small gods... and besides that, they were shooting at you? Definitely something you weren't supposed to survive." The Lepi kept up his invigorating sudsing. On his knees, his eyes were nearly on a level with Quin's. "You know, partner, all that webbing you crashed through on your way out, it feels to me like you got a dose of spice, just by getting it on you. Those creatures have something to do with spice, I'm pretty sure."
Indeed, much of Quin's exhaustion and disorientation was abating, now that his skin was clean. Wordlessly, he took a handful of the suds and began reciprocal washing of his furred companion.
Jaxxon grinned, and luxuriated in his touch. When the humanoid threatened to wash his ears, though, he twitched them away, and stood to his full height. Quin found himself lathering the young male's belly and chest instead. Jaxxon used his stature to bend down around him, till he was surrounded by a grayish green cocoon of fragrant, wet fur. Within the tent of his folded ears, Jaxxon murmured,
"I'm glad you got back in one piece, man."
One huge, soft hand squeezed his butt, gently. One big digit teased between his legs. And like magic, the energy rushed back into him to lunge for Lepi butt, and get his fingers full of pheromones. At his probing, the aroma of Jaxxon began to rise into his nostrils. Predictably, it filled him with lust.
"You are such a brave sucker, man," crooned Jaxxon, as he began to run his velvety hands up and down Quin. That was simply commentary on what his hands were experiencing. Hutch, it was the first time he'd felt up a Jedi returning from a life and death situation, and it was ten times as exciting as a holovid.
He swept back Quin's inky hair, so he could lick the chemical cocktail out of his pores, that mix of alarm and action and exertion, of extinction avoided. His sinuous tongue lapped the stubble of the Kiffar chin and neck, the sturdy muscles of trapezius and scapula, the winged symmetry of collarbones and the hollow in between. And Quin let him. He was undulating at the hips, enjoying the slow inflation of Jaxxon's member against his belly, massaging Lepi ass as if to wring more fragrance out. Seemingly it was merely his mind, now, that was fatigued.
He was about to leap onto Jaxxon, when a familiar presence edged diffidently into his consciousness. He pulled back, instead. Jaxxon quit his nuzzling and looked at him inquisitively.
"Aayla's regaining consciousness, and she's really going to need the fresher. Let's relocate."
Jaxxon flipped on the dryers, and hunted around for a clean coverall. "Padawan bond, eh?" He wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. "Almost like mom and kit, only maybe more invasive...oh, I forgot about clean clothing for you; want one of mine?"
"No, I just need a towel. Remember I'm not as massive as you."
"You're pretty large for a humanoid." Somehow the Lepi made that into something lewd. But that was his way, thought Quin with a smile.
They surprised Oni, who was about to pound on the fresher door to alert them that she had a groggy Aayla with her. The green woman guided the Rutian teen gently past them. //I will live, Master,// came the wry comment in Quin's mind. She looked shaky, but intact. He grimaced in sympathy.
"Ever been stunned, partner?"
Jaxxon sniffed. "Never had the pleasure."
"All your nerve endings are overloaded. Then they come back as if your whole body is being jammed full of needles, and it cramps your muscles. Sort of like what happened to our brains that one time, remember that time--?"
"Oh yeah.... you promised never to do that again, and I hold you to it." Jaxxon's ears actually shivered at the memory.
"Hey, it wasn't much fun for me, either." *
They reached the captain's quarters. "Lock the door, Foot," said the captain, with a curl of half his upper lip, his eyes never leaving the nonchalant human, who was showing off so very much of his dewy, tattooed reddish skin.
"Understood," the AI returned.
Then, dropping the towel, Quin took his leap. He landed right on target-- he was hanging from Jaxxon's shoulders, and that incredible tongue was busy upon him again, and his ass was in those big green hands. And if ever a place were designed to look after his ass's needs, it was those hands. He moaned and accepted whatever sensations they chose to give him. Below him, he felt the log of Jaxxon's arousal insinuating itself along one thigh.
"I dig this so much, man," mumbled Jaxxon into his neck, between licks. "I taste danger, but I'm not in it. All the fun, and none of the surprises. Come up here, hero." And he took a moment to unzip his garment and let it fall; then, chest to chest, he began rubbing Quin against his fur. Quin groaned at the intensity of their mirrored sensations. He was seeing the events of the day, filtered and replayed through Jaxxon's reading of them. It was like having four sets of epidermis inputs, all maxxing out.
Jaxxon was licking at his cheek, so Quin took a grip on the fur at the back of his head, caught his tongue, and sucked it. The too-intense rubbing slowed, as the focus became their kissing. Fearlessly Quin butted his flat teeth against the needle-sharp fangs of the carnivore. He grabbed the Lepi's lower lip and set up a suction that was sure to leave a mark. One big hand tangled its claws into the mass of his hair, increasing the pull, as Jaxxon moaned his own pleasure. The other hand was crushing Quin against the fur of his belly. Quin fought against that crush, relishing the friction of his shaft on that silken fur.
When at last he let loose, there was a nice rosy bruise starting on Jaxxon's lower lip. Quin licked it appreciatively. "Fucker," the Lepi mumbled, and pulled him down, down, until his erection was no longer below, but was sandwiched between them. He wanted it to be saturated with Quin's sweat, as well.
Quin rolled against him, taking in the intoxicating Lepi pheromones. The dew of pre-come joined the moistures mingling between them, and Quin simply had to taste it. He wrenched free of Jaxxon's arms, which were beginning to flail a bit anyway, and slid between the Lepi's legs.
Wrapping both hands around Jaxxon's shaft, he began to pump it, with his knees against those melon-like balls. With his rough tongue he teased the tip, relishing the flavor of Lepi essence. He could handle it when it came from here; it didn't push him to the brink too fast, like the source behind.
The claws in his hair began to tighten spasmodically. He nestled himself between the Lepi balls, knees up, and began to hump himself into them. He held himself firm against the tapered waist of the younger being, relishing the noises he was making, and sneaking his fingers toward that stub that resembled a tail.
But Jaxxon stopped him, by the simple expedient of grabbing him by the hair and one shoulder and yanking upwards. Somewhere in the proceedings, he had ended up on the edge of his bunk, with his head and shoulders barely touching the wall. Pulling himself and Quin upright meant that Quin's rod was shoved even tighter between his, er, legs. He had to tremble through that excruciating pleasure, and then speak, too. It took an effort. And to make it worse, Quin kept moving his hips.
"Man--ooh-- hey, let's not--ooh, yeah-- let's not go there, okay?--ooh--"
"Okay. But, you are going to come, Lepi, and come hard, because I am fucking starving for this. Understood?"
And with that, Quin flexed two hands full of Lepi butt, and ran his tongue over his own lips, because that's all he could reach when Jaxxon still had him at arms' length. And undulated into him, relentlessly, with knees and groin.
Poor Jaxxon's huge feet began to fan the air of the rest of the room, and he had to let loose a moan of pure arousal. His big dick pulsed and oozed. His grip on Quin loosened, whereupon the voracious mouth and hands were immediately upon him again. He wondered how he could possibly keep from coming in the next ten seconds. The man was screwing his balls, for crying out loud! He could weep at how wonderful it felt.
"Just try to keep me out..." The Jedi's words echoed like a buzzing around his dripping, throbbing, tongue-tortured dick. And his consciousness shifted in a flash to that Lepi place inside him, that the Kiffar consciousness was creeping into, trying to make him lose it-- damn the man, he was really-- and somehow, he managed to shove the Kiffar's mind away! He felt like a god.
He was in a thoroughly detached and omniscient place, for about a minute, where he watched Kim Kiffar making love to his dick as if it were a part of somebody else, until the fucker decided to look up from what he was doing. That gaze, shooting from under those brows, with the yellow stripes underlining those burning black eyes, and then he squeezed, just there--
And then bliss flooded every synapse of that inner place, and he was coming in great milky spurts, and the man was splattered with it, and lapping ferociously wherever it landed, and he had dug his claws far too deep into the man's back, and it made the man scream out something and jet out his own jism, all over his balls and who knows where else.
Jaxxon lifted shaking hands away from the back of the oblivious Quin. There was redness on his claws. He let them drop to the human again. Quin was too busy to notice, intently rubbing sperm into fur with his face, and then licking him like a kit, which felt surprisingly good at the moment. He let his big frame collapse sideways, and managed to get one foot onto the bunk.
Once Quin had enough of the licking, he crawled up, and they lay with their crotches stuck together. Absently the bigger being folded him into his long embrace, and somewhere found the strength to lift up his other leg to join the rest of him on the bed.
"Quin?" Oops, called him by his real name. Spit.
"Yes, Rug?" Yeah, he noticed, and he's calling me a rug again. So what.
"I actually kept you out, for a minute there."
"You did indeed."
"Am I going to be required to experience any danger first-hand, when we get to Nar Shaddaa? I'd rather not."
"No. Stay on Foot the whole time, if you like."
"Right. But don't go making me a steady procarb replacement."
"Steady? Ha... you're gourmet. For celebrations only..."
"Surviving is a cause for celebration?"
Stupid question. And he didn't get an answer. Just a small snore.
*Jaxxon's Twi'leks 4-- Fresher
http://sw-slash.livejournal.com/27396.html
author: helgaleena helgaleenas@yahoo.com
Series: post TPM
Rating: NC-17
Warning: f-word, implied het, slash
Spoilers: Dark Horse Comics: Twilight, Emissaries to Malastare, Rite of Passage by Ostrander and Duursema
Disclaimer: Lucas owns the StarWars universe and I am nothing
Summary: Where this fic meets up with Dark Horse canon, at last. Fortunately for my idols Ostrander and Duursema, I am mainly here for the Lepi and Twi'lek slash. Otherwise you would know more about Devaronian sex than even I would like. For more on Jaxxon, see the webstrip, http://www.jaxxons11.com
Prologue--Ryloth
To Asante, it was clear that Senator Chom Frey Kaa would have to be notified of this. His disreputable relation, now known as Bib Fortuna, had placed his gravid consort under Pol Secura's protection.
She had arrived at the same time as the Kiffar and the Lepi "traders". After rycrit products for Coachelle-- what a laugh. But their tokens were good.
She had invoked the Twi'Jani code of hospitality. It had of course been honored. She was given a room, and unspecified duties in the heirs' nursery. An obvious case of Bib choosing his consort unwisely, and sending her off with the means to pay her way for a few years. But what had seemed most peculiar to Asante was that ragged scrap of a doll she held pressed tightly to her gauze-shrouded belly, throughout her interview in the reception hall. The thing seemed to really unsettle her colleague, their host Pol Secura.
He called Asante over afterwards, from her place of observation in the shadows. His cerulean face was serene, but his lekku were restless in a way she was beginning to know the meaning of. "Your fellow Kiffar wants to buy ryll. And more. What do you make of him?"
She saw no reason to hide her suspicions at this juncture, so she told the truth. "That one has the markings of a Guardian-- of a Vos, yet he seems ignorant of our ties to Kiffex. Only one Vos I know who has been absent that long from doings there. He has to be Quinlan Vos, the Jedi."
"Jedi-- rycrit spit! What has he to do with Fortuna, then?"
"Fortuna must not know he is Jedi, thinking him only a disaffected Guardian, like me."
"And the Lepi?"
"An ordinary smuggler with a taste for your women. Did you see his crew? They are all Twi'leki females! I shadowed the ones negotiating re-supply. One Rutian who held all the credits. One Lethan who did all the talking, and some mixed-bloods of no importance. It is likely that they truly are all refugees from employment by Jabba and Gardulla."
"Then the main problem is what to do about the Jedi. Wait-- the Rutian female-- is she called Aayla?"
Asante massaged her green-tattooed brow a moment, recalling. "Yes, she is. The others called her that name. Her age is sixteen or seventeen standard years." She looked questioningly at Councillor Pol, but he was too preoccupied to respond.
"Rycrit spit gone rancid!" he expostulated, and his bright blue lekku began to twine around each other in considerable agitation. He was cogitating earnestly, tapping his chin with one pointed fingernail. It really turned her off, the way Twi'lek males kept their nails sharp as daggers that way. Not to mention they rejected her as too hairy, most of the time...
But Secura was recalling that the Jedi had taken away one of the excess female children of his line, leaving a wampa hungry, some years back. The mother was consumed later, of course, once the Jedi had left. But that infant, who was written down as a fiscal loss, had been called Aayla. That meant two Jedi. And he was honor-bound not to personally kill a relation.
Thoughts of the wampa, and other exotic beasts the clan had handled, reminded him of another solution. He caught the eye of the senator's Kiffar agent.
"Asante, when the next shipment of ryll-drugged creatures is sent to the mine, be sure that the Jedi know about it, and follow. They will not survive."
"Understood." Her black-ringed, plum-dark lips curved into a smile. She went off to think of ways that the knowledge of the ryll-feedings might percolate to the unsuspecting newcomers.
Asante was not much of a Vos. She was only part Vos, had no special talents, and had grown up in the suburbs on Kiffu. It was just useful to pretend to be a true Guardian sometimes, thanks to the tattoos. If she had been a true Vos, she would be working closer to central beast receiving on Kiffex. The really renegade Vos didn't trust her, and she had to admit they were right. The lure of Coruscant credits long ago eclipsed any patriotism she might have felt for her home system. But even she knew about the legendary Quinlan, the one whom Sheyf Tinte herself had lost to the Jedi.
Her heart beat a little faster, remembering how handsome he had looked among all the motley non-humanoids in the audience hall. He had the true Vos gift-- that was why he bound his hands like that. Maybe if she wore her spacer's gauntlets continually, as if she herself were touch-sensitive, she could get away with touching him.... The trouble was that, if he were to touch her in return, he would know all.
But she must not let her imagination run away with her like this. Jedi had scary mind-powers as well. Better to flirt with Villie, that arrogant Devaronian, than to risk hypnosis by a Jedi, no matter how handsome.
Before she had gotten far in her planning, Secura summoned her again. " I have an addition to make to the roster of drugged creatures to feed the mine spiders. Senator Kaa wishes us to dispose of Fortuna's heir. His consort has been reassigned to mining."
Then unveiled annoyance, mixed with unease, suffused his aristocratic features. "And get that filthy rag of a doll she carries and burn it!"
Whatever the doll represented, it would trouble him no more. And this considerably simplified things for Asante. She would instruct the palace staff to let the Kiffar, and his Lepi, and his females, know precisely what happened, when the concubine disappeared. They would track that bait, and she would trail them, to make certain they did not return. This way, she could feast her eyes on him for a little while longer, if only from afar.
Things progressed according to plan. The Twi'lek Niala had come to visit the Fortuna consort, and was turned away. The servants had readily told of the "reassignment" and what it really meant. She had gone running to her superiors, the Jedi. When the shipment of ryll-poisoned creatures left, Asante was watching, and easily spotted Vos and his student.
Her heart skipped a beat when they leaped so gracefully to the roof of the transport, Quinlan's hair and cloak billowing around him like the wings of a great dark bird. Those black locks and strong chin drew her eyes as a magnet drew metal. She kept a discreet distance behind them on her swoop.
They leaped off and concealed themselves at the entrance to the mine, while the transport continued in. Cautiously they entered after it. Behind them, like their fates, came Asante.
At the feeding place, the workers were making haste to unload their cargo of the dead and dying, laced with the drug. All wanted to be safely on the surface when the 'monsters' came. As the transport rumbled upward, she saw the Jedi emerge from their concealment, examining the piled creatures by the light of their sabres, looking for signs of life. She saw light gleaming on the triple red eyes of the giant arachnids, and knew she must act soon.
This was the moment to ensure their demise. She raised her stunblaster and hit the little Twi'lek squarely in the back. But too late-- she had seen the spiders, too, and cried out to her master. Vos saw her being stunned. Before she could hit him, too, he put out his blade so she couldn't see to aim. One blast to where he last had been was all she could manage, before she had to retreat. Any more shots, and the blasterbeam's origins would make her the target.
It was lucky she had her infrared sights, and knew the exit route quite well. Nek take it, she had almost made sure of them both. This was the first time she'd had to assassinate Jedi, but she'd heard they were tough to kill. She could only hope the spiders did their part. She paused, back to the corridor wall, to get her breath.
"Hey, Asante doll." She jumped. A familiar arm, completely encased in jointed leather armor, snaked out of the gloom and pulled her back against a chest hung with clanking metal amulets. She recognized the breath, hissed between the teeth, with its tang of corroded silver.
"Villie! What are you doing in here?" she hissed.
He kept his voice to a low rumble. "Keeping an eye on Kiffar yum-yum, that's what. Jedis good as dead. Let spiders eat now. Come pay attention to Villie."
With a contemptuously easy squeeze, he wrung the blaster out of her hand, and caught it with the other. While he tucked it into his waistband, the other hand pulled her ample breasts against him, by winding itself into her fleecy hair. Despite herself, she was aroused.
Hey, he wasn't humanoid-- well, only barely, but he was so-- male. His ship, the Inferno, was comfortable, and probably nearby. And she knew what those horns could do. If she couldn't have pretty cousin Quinlan, she could ease her frustrations with the Devaronian. Unlike Twi'leks, he appreciated hair on a woman.
Daylight was filtering in from the surface, so she switched her goggles to ultraviolet. Then she smiled, and wrapped one of her legs around his. And with no effort at all, Villie slung her under his arm and carried her out into the Floating Rock Gardens, one hand still tangled into the back of her dark hair.
.............................
"I contacted Master Tholme, and he informed me that the mine creatures are not native to Ryloth. They're probably from Kessel. He thinks their illegal importation can be traced through the beast smugglers on Nar Shaddaa. So we go there." Quinlan Vos rubbed a filthy hand across his sweaty face, over the yellow stripes. Stripes of grime were added.
He was slumped on the common room bench in the Rabbit's Foot, with one of Jaxxon's ales open and untouched before him. Jaxxon had set Foot down in the landing area of the Floating Rock Gardens Planetary Monument, and his partner had staggered aboard, lugging the dead weight of his apprentice. She'd been stunned, and he'd told the others it had been a kidnap attempt by slavers. They hadn't found Kyara-- alive. And they had left Ryloth immediately.
"Well, I guess it makes sense for us to do the trip; we're closer to Hutt space than he is. And I told Foot the new course coordinates already, while you were settling in your Aayla." Jaxxon scratched his greenish muzzle, considering. "What do I tell my ladies about the detour? Coachelle is the other direction."
"Hey, it's Nar Shaddaa, and we're smuggling, right? And I trust Aayla to tell your ladies whatever it won't harm them to know, when she wakes." The dark eyes beneath the heavy brows beneath the grime were focused on nothing. They drifted shut, even as the Jedi's spine straightened. He was going into some sort of meditative state.
More power to him, thought Jaxxon, and put on a holodrama he'd seen twenty times and knew was good, at a low volume. He could darn well meditate in his own way, thanks very much. He gave the Kiffar half an hour, then drank the ale himself.
As the end credits began scrolling through the viewer, Quin's eyes finally opened again. He smiled to see Jaxxon still there.
"As captain, I'm ordering you to eat a dinner ration."
"Fine. What happened to the ale?"
"It was going flat, so I ordered you another one. Here." The Lepi reached out to one side and pulled a fresh container out of the cool unit. He switched it to his other hand and deposited it on the table in front of Quin, all without moving from his lounger. The ale was joined by a procarb packet, before Quin could even blink.
Force, that Lepi just took up all the space in a room sometimes, without even trying.
He unwrapped the procarb and made himself eat it. He took a swallow of the ale.
It was wet, and relaxing. He and Aayla were safe, for now. It was okay for his chin to hit his chest--
"Oh no, you don't..." Wiry arms were hoisting him up. Jaxxon was walking him to the fresher. Some time after that he noticed that he was no longer dressed, and neither was Jaxxon. The Lepi was on his knees, rubbing sudsing compound onto him with his big, soft hands. It took nearly all of Quin's concentration to remain upright, but he had enough to notice what a relief it was to have his pores free of the dust of Ryloth.
He found that he was absorbing Jaxxon's concern for him directly though his unclogged skin. The Lepi must also be getting a very graphic replay of his experiences with the giant spiders, the mental projections of invisibility while they fed, all aspects of his fight for their survival down that supposedly abandoned mine shaft.
"By the hundred small gods... and besides that, they were shooting at you? Definitely something you weren't supposed to survive." The Lepi kept up his invigorating sudsing. On his knees, his eyes were nearly on a level with Quin's. "You know, partner, all that webbing you crashed through on your way out, it feels to me like you got a dose of spice, just by getting it on you. Those creatures have something to do with spice, I'm pretty sure."
Indeed, much of Quin's exhaustion and disorientation was abating, now that his skin was clean. Wordlessly, he took a handful of the suds and began reciprocal washing of his furred companion.
Jaxxon grinned, and luxuriated in his touch. When the humanoid threatened to wash his ears, though, he twitched them away, and stood to his full height. Quin found himself lathering the young male's belly and chest instead. Jaxxon used his stature to bend down around him, till he was surrounded by a grayish green cocoon of fragrant, wet fur. Within the tent of his folded ears, Jaxxon murmured,
"I'm glad you got back in one piece, man."
One huge, soft hand squeezed his butt, gently. One big digit teased between his legs. And like magic, the energy rushed back into him to lunge for Lepi butt, and get his fingers full of pheromones. At his probing, the aroma of Jaxxon began to rise into his nostrils. Predictably, it filled him with lust.
"You are such a brave sucker, man," crooned Jaxxon, as he began to run his velvety hands up and down Quin. That was simply commentary on what his hands were experiencing. Hutch, it was the first time he'd felt up a Jedi returning from a life and death situation, and it was ten times as exciting as a holovid.
He swept back Quin's inky hair, so he could lick the chemical cocktail out of his pores, that mix of alarm and action and exertion, of extinction avoided. His sinuous tongue lapped the stubble of the Kiffar chin and neck, the sturdy muscles of trapezius and scapula, the winged symmetry of collarbones and the hollow in between. And Quin let him. He was undulating at the hips, enjoying the slow inflation of Jaxxon's member against his belly, massaging Lepi ass as if to wring more fragrance out. Seemingly it was merely his mind, now, that was fatigued.
He was about to leap onto Jaxxon, when a familiar presence edged diffidently into his consciousness. He pulled back, instead. Jaxxon quit his nuzzling and looked at him inquisitively.
"Aayla's regaining consciousness, and she's really going to need the fresher. Let's relocate."
Jaxxon flipped on the dryers, and hunted around for a clean coverall. "Padawan bond, eh?" He wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. "Almost like mom and kit, only maybe more invasive...oh, I forgot about clean clothing for you; want one of mine?"
"No, I just need a towel. Remember I'm not as massive as you."
"You're pretty large for a humanoid." Somehow the Lepi made that into something lewd. But that was his way, thought Quin with a smile.
They surprised Oni, who was about to pound on the fresher door to alert them that she had a groggy Aayla with her. The green woman guided the Rutian teen gently past them. //I will live, Master,// came the wry comment in Quin's mind. She looked shaky, but intact. He grimaced in sympathy.
"Ever been stunned, partner?"
Jaxxon sniffed. "Never had the pleasure."
"All your nerve endings are overloaded. Then they come back as if your whole body is being jammed full of needles, and it cramps your muscles. Sort of like what happened to our brains that one time, remember that time--?"
"Oh yeah.... you promised never to do that again, and I hold you to it." Jaxxon's ears actually shivered at the memory.
"Hey, it wasn't much fun for me, either." *
They reached the captain's quarters. "Lock the door, Foot," said the captain, with a curl of half his upper lip, his eyes never leaving the nonchalant human, who was showing off so very much of his dewy, tattooed reddish skin.
"Understood," the AI returned.
Then, dropping the towel, Quin took his leap. He landed right on target-- he was hanging from Jaxxon's shoulders, and that incredible tongue was busy upon him again, and his ass was in those big green hands. And if ever a place were designed to look after his ass's needs, it was those hands. He moaned and accepted whatever sensations they chose to give him. Below him, he felt the log of Jaxxon's arousal insinuating itself along one thigh.
"I dig this so much, man," mumbled Jaxxon into his neck, between licks. "I taste danger, but I'm not in it. All the fun, and none of the surprises. Come up here, hero." And he took a moment to unzip his garment and let it fall; then, chest to chest, he began rubbing Quin against his fur. Quin groaned at the intensity of their mirrored sensations. He was seeing the events of the day, filtered and replayed through Jaxxon's reading of them. It was like having four sets of epidermis inputs, all maxxing out.
Jaxxon was licking at his cheek, so Quin took a grip on the fur at the back of his head, caught his tongue, and sucked it. The too-intense rubbing slowed, as the focus became their kissing. Fearlessly Quin butted his flat teeth against the needle-sharp fangs of the carnivore. He grabbed the Lepi's lower lip and set up a suction that was sure to leave a mark. One big hand tangled its claws into the mass of his hair, increasing the pull, as Jaxxon moaned his own pleasure. The other hand was crushing Quin against the fur of his belly. Quin fought against that crush, relishing the friction of his shaft on that silken fur.
When at last he let loose, there was a nice rosy bruise starting on Jaxxon's lower lip. Quin licked it appreciatively. "Fucker," the Lepi mumbled, and pulled him down, down, until his erection was no longer below, but was sandwiched between them. He wanted it to be saturated with Quin's sweat, as well.
Quin rolled against him, taking in the intoxicating Lepi pheromones. The dew of pre-come joined the moistures mingling between them, and Quin simply had to taste it. He wrenched free of Jaxxon's arms, which were beginning to flail a bit anyway, and slid between the Lepi's legs.
Wrapping both hands around Jaxxon's shaft, he began to pump it, with his knees against those melon-like balls. With his rough tongue he teased the tip, relishing the flavor of Lepi essence. He could handle it when it came from here; it didn't push him to the brink too fast, like the source behind.
The claws in his hair began to tighten spasmodically. He nestled himself between the Lepi balls, knees up, and began to hump himself into them. He held himself firm against the tapered waist of the younger being, relishing the noises he was making, and sneaking his fingers toward that stub that resembled a tail.
But Jaxxon stopped him, by the simple expedient of grabbing him by the hair and one shoulder and yanking upwards. Somewhere in the proceedings, he had ended up on the edge of his bunk, with his head and shoulders barely touching the wall. Pulling himself and Quin upright meant that Quin's rod was shoved even tighter between his, er, legs. He had to tremble through that excruciating pleasure, and then speak, too. It took an effort. And to make it worse, Quin kept moving his hips.
"Man--ooh-- hey, let's not--ooh, yeah-- let's not go there, okay?--ooh--"
"Okay. But, you are going to come, Lepi, and come hard, because I am fucking starving for this. Understood?"
And with that, Quin flexed two hands full of Lepi butt, and ran his tongue over his own lips, because that's all he could reach when Jaxxon still had him at arms' length. And undulated into him, relentlessly, with knees and groin.
Poor Jaxxon's huge feet began to fan the air of the rest of the room, and he had to let loose a moan of pure arousal. His big dick pulsed and oozed. His grip on Quin loosened, whereupon the voracious mouth and hands were immediately upon him again. He wondered how he could possibly keep from coming in the next ten seconds. The man was screwing his balls, for crying out loud! He could weep at how wonderful it felt.
"Just try to keep me out..." The Jedi's words echoed like a buzzing around his dripping, throbbing, tongue-tortured dick. And his consciousness shifted in a flash to that Lepi place inside him, that the Kiffar consciousness was creeping into, trying to make him lose it-- damn the man, he was really-- and somehow, he managed to shove the Kiffar's mind away! He felt like a god.
He was in a thoroughly detached and omniscient place, for about a minute, where he watched Kim Kiffar making love to his dick as if it were a part of somebody else, until the fucker decided to look up from what he was doing. That gaze, shooting from under those brows, with the yellow stripes underlining those burning black eyes, and then he squeezed, just there--
And then bliss flooded every synapse of that inner place, and he was coming in great milky spurts, and the man was splattered with it, and lapping ferociously wherever it landed, and he had dug his claws far too deep into the man's back, and it made the man scream out something and jet out his own jism, all over his balls and who knows where else.
Jaxxon lifted shaking hands away from the back of the oblivious Quin. There was redness on his claws. He let them drop to the human again. Quin was too busy to notice, intently rubbing sperm into fur with his face, and then licking him like a kit, which felt surprisingly good at the moment. He let his big frame collapse sideways, and managed to get one foot onto the bunk.
Once Quin had enough of the licking, he crawled up, and they lay with their crotches stuck together. Absently the bigger being folded him into his long embrace, and somewhere found the strength to lift up his other leg to join the rest of him on the bed.
"Quin?" Oops, called him by his real name. Spit.
"Yes, Rug?" Yeah, he noticed, and he's calling me a rug again. So what.
"I actually kept you out, for a minute there."
"You did indeed."
"Am I going to be required to experience any danger first-hand, when we get to Nar Shaddaa? I'd rather not."
"No. Stay on Foot the whole time, if you like."
"Right. But don't go making me a steady procarb replacement."
"Steady? Ha... you're gourmet. For celebrations only..."
"Surviving is a cause for celebration?"
Stupid question. And he didn't get an answer. Just a small snore.
*Jaxxon's Twi'leks 4-- Fresher
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