#cadbane

Ships began to gather, varying in size and shape. Some other girl was performing now, a Twi’lek; you had the run of the room for however long it suited you.

People started to enter—if they could be described as such. One had on a yellow flight suit and giant talons; another wore a turban on his head. There was a woman—you had seen this one before—Aurra Sing. Ohnaka was her plaything.

But there was a Duros—one who wore a hat, a coat, and a pair of dusty boots. Bane—someone had called his name.

He frightened you. His eyes were searing red, like two burning coals. His teeth were long and sharp, and his expression bordered cruel, as if no sweet thought, no pleasant memory, had ever crossed his mind.

These men, these women, these scoundrels of all shapes and sizes, of all species, colors, and quite possibly religions, drank and drank. Though Bane—he was more reserved.

He was served whiskey in a tumbler without ice. The shots kept coming, but he took his time. Before you knew it, it was your turn to perform. You could not quite explain it, but as much as you were put off, you were drawn to him—like staring at a speeder crash, a couple fighting, or an untimely death put on full display—you had seen many working for the Ohnaka Gang.

For once, no one paid attention. They were too busy discussing the details of some job, some heist that involved kidnapping an arms dealer. Hondo had intel on their whereabouts; the others were to do the work, but the Quay would profit handsomely, bragging all the while.

There was a bounty on his head—that’s why these others were here listening. They were mercenaries, hired guns—Bane included. You had heard of him.

As the music was cued up, you began to throw about your moves. It was a work of art all unto itself—but so were you—hitting every beat on every measure, slow and sensual, your feet carrying you across the floor like you were gliding on air. You felt whimsical.

That was before you noticed the Duros’ blood red stare, his maw slightly open and his canines peeking out. He was grinning at you—or maybe leering was a better word. You suddenly felt uncomfortable, making your way across the room.

You favored Goru; he always kept you safe when things got out of hand. He was a brute to others, but sweet as jogan fruit pie to you. You twirled around him, running your fingers under and along his chin and frills.

It did not deter the preternatural gaze of the one named Bane.

The hulking Weequay chuckled; he pinched your ass. You slapped his hand back, though you did not really mind.

A few other Quay joined in on the laughter. One fell over and his drink sloshed onto the floor. A Kowakian monkey-lizard soared right over you, being chased by Jiro—he wanted his hand-rolled joint back.

It was chaos, not at all controlled. But it was what you were used to, what you had grown to like—or even love. So what if they were pirates? It was all the same to you.

All the same, except for that blue man who had set his sights on you for whatever reason.

Fine. Let him lust, let him dream, let him think he had a chance with you.

You circled back; you strode up to his table. Ohnaka’s eyes widened as you dared to put your hands on his old friend’s shoulder.

You had no idea what the matter was—not until Bane cinched your wrist. You tried to tug away, but the Duros pulled you down. You gasped as you came face to face with him.

“Well, ain’t. ye. pretty,” he said dryly.

He was worse up close.

And it wasn’t that he was… ugly, per se, but that his disposition came off cold, severe, and his smile was creepy. His fangs looked like they could rip your throat out; his hand engulfed yours. He was so tall that he reached your shoulders, even while sitting down.

“Pretty and brave,” he added after the fact, pulling you straight onto his lap. You chirped, you squirmed, you pushed him back, palm to chest. This only made the Duros arch the ridge of his thick brow.

“What’s de matter, lil’ lady? Ye cahn touch me, but Ah cahn’t touch ye? Don’t seem fair now, does it?”

“Bane, my friend—she, uh—does dat tu everyone! Et es part of her act. Leave her alone, ah?” Hondo butted in, attempting to persuade the Duros, knowing that he was lying through his gold-capped teeth.

“Hm, dhat so,” the Duros hummed. “Might wanna rethink; naht everyone’s as nice as me.”

Your eyes widened. Cad Bane let you go. You dashed up from his lap and ran to rejoin the other girls.

---

Hours passed; after all that fun, you were growing bored. Bane had never once looked your way again, and for that you were quite thankful.

The music had dwindled down, though the alcohol still flowed. The Trandoshan, Bossk, was yelling at the human male named Dengar, but for what reason you could not make out.

Aurra was ready to go upstairs, and Hondo was sure to oblige, but before that happened, he said many good nights, excused himself, and approached where you and your friends—co-workers—resided.

His hands were clasped behind his back; he was hunched over as he approached. He appeared deep in thought, mulling over how to handle this, a delicate situation having fallen into his lap.

Hondo Ohnaka referred to you by name. “Ef you would, please come wit me… I have a bit of someting tu discuss.”

You could only guess. You, of course, said yes.

You were drawn toward a dark and solitary corner of the hall; Hondo stared you down from beneath his thick-rimmed goggles. His face was grim; no longer was he the smiling man who aimed to please, even if that was what he was attempting to do now in some form or another.

“You have … fortunately, or maybe rather, unfortunately, captured de attention of my friend.”

You eyed him with suspicion. You felt you knew exactly what he meant.

“Bane es, uh—not a terribly horrible man, just a bit, ah, how you say—OK, maybe he es.”

This was absolutely not helping any.

“What I am saying es,” the Weequay cleared his throat, “he wishes for your company, for de, uh… de evening.”

“No. Absolutely not!”

“I will pay you, my dear, just—du not tell him. You have done worse for money, ah?”

You glared at him, though he was right. “Not in spice.”

“You want credits?” Hondo asked, affronted.

“And for you to repair my ship!” You had been stuck on this rock for weeks, at Hondo Ohnaka’s mercy.

“Yoooou drive a hard bargain, but Hondo acquiesces tu your demands.”

Then, the brigand grinned, glancing behind himself to Bane—his legs were crossed. He was smoking a cigarra. His hat was tilted downward. You quirked the corner of your mouth.

“Really, he es not so bad, once you get tu know him,” Hondo assured. You had your doubts, but you would deign to go to him.

At your approach, Cad Bane tipped the brim of his ostentatious hat. “Cad Bane,” he said. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

You were tempted to roll your eyes.

“Care te join me fer a drink?” he asked benignly, downing the contents of his glass. You shook your head and crossed your arms.

“Fine by me. Let’s get te it, dhen.”

You followed him; his pace was slow. He seemed to be in no rush, like you, to get this over with.

For a man who had a thousand enemies, he did not pay you any mind. You were no threat to him, and it was more than obvious.

The Duros stopped before a door; you were aware that Hondo had many extra rooms for when his guests stayed over. It came with the territory when you partied as hard as he did. Not many people chose to drink, smoke, and pilot starships. One wrong entry, one coordinate off—you might find yourself flying into some unknown planet, a black hole, or a star.

“Ohnaka put me up here,” the Duros said dismissively. “Big day t’morrow.”

He offered you the entrance. “After ye.”

At least this man had manners, unlike some of Ohnaka’s ilk. You watched him carefully as you walked on by; Bane stood there and held the door, waiting for you to pass, though his eyes met yours—they were large and impossibly distracting—a bottomless sea of crimson.

You moved inside the room. It was empty except for a few scant furnishings. Even so, it was clean and well maintained.

You often stayed on Florrum; you had your own quarters, though elsewhere within the fortress. You would just as well be here than lead him to where you would later rest your head—tomorrow or the next day—whenever you were permitted.

“Ain’t much of a talker, are ye?” Bane asked casually. “Just as well. Ah ain’t, neither.”

Bane strolled toward a nearby chair; he removed his gauntlets one by one, unfastening a closure that popped open with an expert touch. His coat came next, tossed without fanfare. His eyes rose once more to look at you.

“Ye wanna freshen up a bit b’fore we have a lie down? Won’t be long,” he informed you dully, referring to himself, his gear, and its tedious removal.

You took the opportunity; you headed toward the refresher and locked the door.

Facing yourself in the mirror, you wondered how you had gotten yourself into this. You didn’t even want to be here, much less with this Duros. He had a reputation that preceded him; he was barbarous and ruthless. Hondo better keep up on his end, or you would throw a fit.

You splashed some water on your face; you adjusted your low-cut top. You took a breath and closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the next few hours.

Just what kind of man was he otherwise, you wondered? Was he kinky? Should you be worried? You sighed, presuming nothing less. You supposed you should at least try to enjoy yourself.

After fortifying mentally, you would proceed, exiting the ‘fresher to be faced with Bane—he was naked.

You gasped, unable to control it. Bane gave you a funny look.

“What?” he snapped. “Like sleepin’ in de buff, dhat a problem fer ye?”

“N-no…” you stuttered, wondering at his choice of words, for one. On the other hand, you couldn’t stop your staring.

He was lean, though muscular. He was all angles and sharp lines. He had washboard abs, sinewy arms, and brawny legs, though he was svelte and thin. It was an interesting contrast, not to mention you had never seen a Duros bare-assed before.

Speaking of ass, he barely had one; he turned on you to face the bed. Although it was tight and round, it lacked in thickness, though not entirely unpleasant on the eyes.

Bane did not further acknowledge you as he crawled under the sheets. You quirked a brow, wondering what he was getting at.

“Ye comin’ er what?” he finally asked, peeking out at you from layers of thick blankets. This was not at all what you had in mind, though you wondered if you should question it.

“Shall I get undressed?” you asked quizzically, with a bit of a tone to boot.

Bane had already turned onto his side, pulling the sheets closer. “Do whatever, just hurry up.”

You were baffled. You thought it over. To make things easier, you decided to disrobe. You kicked your slippers off, then removed the rest of your ensemble. You focused on one piece at a time, utterly confused by this new turn of events—what did he expect from you, exactly?

“Okay,” you said once you were finished. Two red eyes peered out; Bane’s face was barely visible.

“Okay, what?” he returned, as if he had no idea what you were alluding to.

You suddenly felt annoyed; he had made no comments on your body. You had gone to the trouble of baring all, yet Cad Bane hadn’t even told you were beautiful.

“I’m ready?” you replied, unable to keep the irritation from your voice.

“Come on, dhen,” the Duros said, though he did not bother to address your attitude, nor did he elaborate beyond that—you were left to guess what else he wanted from you.

Slowly but surely you made it to the bed. The mattress dipped below your knee as you ventured to sit down above the sheets. You gingerly placed a hand on Cad Bane’s waist, though it was covered. Bane pushed the blankets back and made room for you, but that was all he did.

You supposed he wanted you to take the lead.

You slipped between the covers; you placed your legs over Cad Bane’s thighs. You straddled him, your lower halves aligning.

He had a slit the same as you, though you were sure if you could turn him on that it would reveal a secret to you. In fact, you were disappointed you had come this far for no reaction—he wasn’t even hard. There was no indication he cared one lick.

For a man, he was unusual to say the very least.

“Naht like dhat!” Bane groused, pushing against your abdomen with the flat of his wide palm. “Ain’t no blurrg—get off.”

You were bewildered beyond belief, being shoved over onto your side.

“What’s wrong with you?!” you squeaked.

“Nothin’s wrong wid me. Yer de one actin’ like Ah’m some jumpspeeder.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” you asked.

“Just lie dhere,” Bane replied.

You looked at him as if he had just grown a second head.

“Really?”

“Didn’t stutter, did Ah?” Bane returned. He shuffled to get more comfortable. This so-called gunslinger was quite possibly the rudest man you had ever spoken to.

“All right, fine,” you complained, though you would comply; you lay down flat right next to him.

“Better,” Bane acknowledged.

He had the audacity to turn over and face the other side, though he curled his legs up toward his chest; his rump pushed up against your hip. You glared at him in the surrounding darkness of the room—maybe he was playing hard to get, not that you even wanted him.

Still, you shifted to face Bane’s back; you crept closer to sidle up to him, matching the shape of his thin frame. It was apparent he wanted to be the little spoon. You could hardly believe your eyes, yet you kept your silence. You would indulge him as much as you would yourself.

At this point, you were no longer put off. You felt challenged. You were determined to get to the bottom of what Cad Bane truly wanted.

You had your doubts that it was a simple cuddle, and now that you were here, now that he had spurned you, you found you were intrigued by him, as stupid as that was, but you could not help the way your mind worked.

So far, so good—he was cool to the touch.

You pressed your breasts against him; you draped one arm around his waist. Bane snuggled in as if he were your lover, drawing the blankets back up toward his chin.

You found you did not mind this, placing your forehead against his bare blue back. You rested there; you inhaled a breath. Truthfully, this Duros smelled divine.

You took a chance; you kissed his shoulder. You trailed your lips down toward the center of his trapezius muscle, brushing your lips right between the blades.

Bane was not amused.

“What’re ye doin’,” Cad asked flatly, as if disturbed from nearing sleep. His voice was muffled by the pillow, though you could still hear him word for word—desert nights were quiet here on Florrum, but they were colder still.

“Kissing you,” you whispered, with a softness to your voice.

This did not in any way sway the Duros, as he responded with undue annoyance. “Didn’t ask ye te do dhat.”

That was the final straw. You sat up and threw the blankets off.

“Then why am I even here?” you dared to ask, overcome by anger and frustration. “Hondo said—”

Cad Bane narrowed his bright red eyes; he flipped back over to confront you. “—Hondo said what,” he growled.

“That you wanted me to keep you company!”

“Ah do want dhat. How else am Ah gonna stay warm t’night.”

“He was going to pay me t—warm?”

You covered your big fat mouth, but you knew it was too late—you had let the one thing slip that Ohanka told you not to.

“Pay?” Bane rasped, sitting up in bed. “Pay ye fer what?”

“S-sex,” you stammered.

“Damn Quay think Ah cahn’t attrac’ a woman on my own?”

“I don’t know!”

Bane had raised his voice, though he eerily calmed back down. He studied you with a crooked frown, finally bothering to take in the shape of your naked body.

“Dhat why yer all over me?” he asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“I—”

You paused; you realized this was what he wanted—someone to stroke his ego, but after the way he had treated you… For your sake, it would be wise to disagree, especially as you would technically be lying.

“Yes,” you claimed. “You’re just a scummy bounty hunter. I have no real interest in you.”

“Dhat so.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, folding both your arms. “One of the most terrible people alive in all the galaxy, or so I have heard,” you added for good measure.

Bane leaned back against the wall; he huffed a sigh.

“So, ye’d do anythin’ fer money?” Bane knew what that was like all too well; he could not judge you for it.

“Well… no.” You weren’t anything like him.

“Dhen why’re goin’ against yer scruples, believin’ dhat about me?”

“I was doing you a favor, and Hondo too...”

“A favor Ah never asked ye te do, if ye count de kissin’.”

You blinked and looked away.

“I never would have otherwise,” you stated brazenly.

“Huh... What a shame.”

That piqued your curiosity; you glanced back toward him.

“What is?” you queried, feigning neutrality.

“Ain’t so hard on de eyes; was startin’ te feel somethin’, lookin’ aht ye.”

You felt affronted, but also flattered. It was as if you were taking turns getting under each other’s skin—you wondered who might win. It was hard not to express yourself or to appear too eager.

“As if I care,” you said.

Bane set his hand down on your bare leg; it was a simple gesture and caught you by surprise. You felt your loins catch fire, heat commingling with cold—his scales were frigid.

“What are you—”

The Duros said not another word, but stroked your thigh, back and forth, his fingers curling around and under, giving your supple flesh a squeeze.

Your breath hitched. Cad Bane arched his brow bone.

Still, the hunter was quiet as could be.

“I don’t—”

Bane leaned in; slim digits massaged you gently. You felt the pull, whether it be from his stark red eyes, his lips so close, or his devil-may-care attitude—it was magnetic.

Curse him, you thought, as you moved to press your mouth against his.

Cad Bane pulled back, sporting a scoundrel’s smile.

“Thought ye neva’ would have otherwise,” he corrected.

You gaped at him. “Asshole,” you declared.

“Maybe,” Bane replied, removing his hand from off your thigh.

“Kark you.” You stood up in a huff.

“No pretendin’ dhat ain’t what yer wantin’,” the Duros shot right back.

“You wish,” you hissed.

You turned on him; you did not want him to see you pout. You gathered your top up from off the floor, and made to put it on.

You had no idea why you felt so insulted—you didn’t even like him! Fek the bantha he rode in on, and fek him, too. And forget the money—you would make do.

“Don’t think Ah said ye could leave,” Bane dared.

You whirled around. “You don’t control me.”

“Why don’t ye mosey back on ova’—like a good. lil’. girl, hm?” Bane coaxed, not bothering to leave the bed.

It was as if he knew you would listen to him, and not because you were nervous or afraid. He could simply read you like an open datapad, knowing your heart’s desire without even having to search it out.

You stepped forward, albeit warily. You did not say a word. Bane waited until you had reached the edge, then he moved to stand.

You watched him rise; he towered over you. You had to crane your neck to gaze up at him, though he slowly lowered. He met you eye to eye for just one moment before sinking below your waist, the Duros having settled down onto his knees.

If not for the outcome, you would have found the situation humorous. Your eyes widened. Bane grasped you by your hips with both his hands and latched on tight. You dropped your arms, preparing to interrupt.

You had no time; he had invited himself to dine on your pretty cunt. You gasped as a tongue—long and pink—licked a stripe between the center of your lips. Its cool tip brushed across your clit; you felt the smooth texture of enamel—of his fangs—though they were angled downward.

He nuzzled his flat face into your mound, snuggling in between your labia as his tongue stayed put. He was keenly focused on the little nub betwixt your legs, Bane dipping low, curling it up and under.

You gasped as its length entered you, tasting what you had on offer. You knew you were already wet, having previously anticipated sex—something you had denied you wanted.

A rich sound echoed in the otherwise silent room; you mildly felt embarrassed by it. You glanced down to see Bane’s eyes focused on your own. He was smirking, even as he ate you out.

It felt too good for you to care; you cupped the back of his bald head. Bane considered this a sign to delve into you deeper, slowly snaking his way back out, then in again—he was fucking you with nothing but half his reach.

A moan slipped out of you, but he did not pick up the pace. He was languid and relaxed, despite his grip being taut and tense. His fingers were sure to leave welts along your legs, but who gave a damn? The minute amount of pain was worth the gain.

You were disappointed when he abruptly stopped. He only did so to lift you up. It barely took a quarter of his strength, the Duros’ wide palms situating themselves beneath your ass cheeks.

You squealed when you rose up, however brief. He laid you down on the expansive bed. You found your back pressed flat against the sheets with Bane repositioning himself between your knees.

His large hands coiled around your inner thighs. He splayed you wide, putting your pussy on full display. You felt vulnerable, but in the best way possible. Your breath picked up as you saw him bend down to continue; he paused right before reinserting his skilled tongue.

“Got somethin’ te say?” he asked, lacking decorum.

You shook your head, at a loss for words. Bane would snidely smirk at you again, though he seemed to be enjoying this. You watched in awe as he slid his palms under your posterior, his elongated thumbs pulling back against the folds of your slick sex.

You moaned louder and with more feeling. Bane’s narrow tongue trailed you from the cusp of your vagina all the way to the throbbing pearl that was exposed to him from out of its plush shell. There came a sucking sound; he was oh-so careful with his teeth.

As if nursing, he whorled his tongue while puckering his lips about you. You felt your muscles twitching, though you forced yourself not to cum too soon; Bane flicked the tip, causing your eyes to roll back beneath your eyelids.

“Fuck, Bane,” you whispered to the room. You felt the pads of all eight fingers grope you harder, though his two thumbs stayed dedicated to spreading you apart.

Then, the Duros snarled—it was a predatory sound. His strokes lengthened, and his lapping intensified. It was as if he was an animal deprived of sustenance, and you were the only thing that would quench his thirst or stay his hunger; you clamped your legs behind his head as he pushed his tongue back inside of you again.

His right thumb moved just a fraction to the left. He began to rub slow circles, probing you, drinking up your excess wetness.

You felt your belly clenching; you tried to lift your head. The sight of Cad Bane consuming you like a vulturous creature over a fresh kill caused you to come undone.

Your nerve endings erupted; you saw stars form inside your eyes as your vision tunneled. Your mind went blank; nothing at all mattered to you except the blue Duros between your legs.

“Just like that, yes, yes,” you intoned, your nails digging into the hunter’s neck and shoulders as you held him close; your body undulated to match his rhythm as you rode out your full orgasm.

There was no stopping it this time; you were to become useless beneath the Duros—if he was so deadly-dangerous, why was he so gentle with you? If he was the most feared bounty hunter in all the galaxy, the quickest draw, the biggest dick, then why were those same hands he used to kill carefully caressing you?

Bane withdrew a few moments later, forcing you to unwind your legs. Even so, he placed them down again. He climbed up, up, so that you both might face each other, one knee on either side of your well-turned waist.

Currently, you were trying to catch your breath; Bane scrutinized you like you were some kind of specimen, or a science project. You felt something touch against your leg—it was cool and sticky, slightly vexing, and had an interesting texture—another something followed it.

This… slithering thing, was part of Bane’s anatomy, you realized. It crept up along your thigh as the man himself had risen higher. He gave you a moment to recuperate before addressing you; you felt the tip of it push between your folds, though it did not enter you just yet.

“Still want it?” he asked plainly.

You nodded. You wanted it more than ever now. You offered up your arms, encircling Bane’s neck; you wrapped your knees around his waif-thin waist. He snickered as you dragged him closer, though he did not attempt to persuade you otherwise.

You felt the breech; one of his two cocks had wormed its way inside you. It was slow and incremental, Bane giving your body time to adjust to this strange visitor, gauging your reaction by the look deep-set within your eyes.

“Ain’t too much?” Bane asked. “And don’t lie,” he followed-up. You wondered if someone had fibbed before only to encounter repercussions.

“N-no,” you breathed, pulling him all the way down gently. You felt that the deeper he explored you, the wider you were spread apart.

Though his prick was perceived as narrow at its apex, around the middle and toward the base it thickened and was stout—you moaned appreciatively as Cad Bane bottomed out, sucking in little gasps for air for every inch he traveled.

Then, he sat there, letting himself warm. It was for your benefit.

Something happened then—you felt a new sensation. As he began to roll his hips, his second cock searched out your clitoris. It was as if it had a mind of its own, sliding between your labia to brush against it in perfect unison—prehensile was an understatement.

To top it off, Bane’s spicules extended. You had no idea what that feeling inside you was, though foreign—alien as the man on top of you, though it only served to increase your pleasure. It was as if he had built-in ribs, or some kind of nodules that had distended. They rubbed in all the right places in all the right ways, though their purpose was rooted in biology.

“What—”

“—Call ‘em spics’, so don’t move too quick,” he emphasized. Bane did not not want them to evert—especially inside a human woman.

You did not ask questions, but silently agreed. It was almost impossible to care, as you were so focused on chasing your own ecstasy.

You bit your lip as the Duros full-on mounted you; his hand moved in to sneak in behind your head. His long fingers purposely played among your hair, though it was subtle—you wondered if he liked it as his species did not have any.

His body, thin and gangling, stretched out over you. Bane settled into a pleasing rhythm. He used the leverage of his sparse weight to administer long strokes, his cock being driven home inside you, sequestered by your gummy walls.

Your breathing picked up, warm against his pinna, though he did not have ears the same way you did. Still, it seemed to encourage him, Bane feeling shivers down his scales.

Mammalian women always had a way of working him, though he hated to admit it. He only quickened his pace after assessing your body language. You had squeezed one bicep, and reached around to grab his ass—it was obvious you were telling him to go deeper, faster.

Instead, he was going to make you work for it.

The Duros rolled you over. The process was so quick, you barely noticed it—not until you found your positions switched. Suddenly, Bane was staring up at you, and you were staring down. His ruby red, elliptic eyes were genuinely hypnotizing—more so from this vantage.

How many people had had this view? How many lovers had he taken in his lifetime? Could he count them on one hand? Had he scored as many times as he had captured bounties?

“Let’s see it, dhen,” he drawled, referring to your turn.

Though flustered, you did not waste any time. You lifted up, hovering just enough to raise your haunches, balancing on your toes. You extended both your arms, placing one palm squarely on Bane’s bare shoulder.

The hunter watched as you rode waves across his dick; the other one you took up within the palm of your warm hand. It was slimy, covered in some kind of natural lube—this did not surprise you, though you were plenty wet yourself. You moved to jerk him off though you found it curling around your fingers.

“Careful, now,” he said; you slowed your tempo. Though his secondary phallus remained pliant and agile like a serpent, the one inside you had hardened to its full girth.

There was no better word—you bounced, up and down, slow but steady. You moved to position both your arms behind your head instead, cradling yourself. Your breasts jounced for him; Bane tweaked a nipple. You moaned instead of yelping, causing the Duros to pinch you tighter.

His other hand moved to gather between your legs; one lithe finger trailed up from where he’d stuffed you full all the way to the tiny bud that was so sensitive. He swirled a pattern across erogenous sensory receptors; you felt the tingle, another orgasm building.

The feeling of his bulge filling you to bursting—along with the featherlight touch of what you knew to be his trigger finger—sent sparks flying all the way up from your groin to the center of your forehead. Your hypothalamus ignited. Feel-good chemicals flooded your pleasure centers. You would ride it out for as long as he allowed.

The sounds that accompanied your climax was like music to Cad’s ears, though you would have never known—Bane was completely quiet, even as you professed just how good it felt.

While still coming down off your blissful high, Bane stood—he was still connected to you. As you whispered sweet nothings in his ear, little bits of praise and wisps of breath, the Duros strolled over to a table loaded down with alcohol—Ohnaka tended to keep the minibar well stocked.

He had one hand—one arm—curled beneath your ass; your legs were still tightly wound around him. He used the other to uncap the stopper off some kind of top-shelf, dark-colored liquor, pouring it into the nearest glass.

“Want a shot?” he asked.

You shook your head, attempting to kiss this man. You pressed both your palms against either side of his gaunt cheeks. Just as your lips moved forward, just as you leaned in toward him, his tumbler came between you both. He threw the amber colored liquid back, then wedged you up against the nearest wall; he sat the shot glass down.

Bane slid his tongue inside your mouth; you could smell the whiskey, taste its remnants, feel the burn against the inside of your cheeks. His tongue danced alongside yours, though his fangs pressed hard against your open maw, your chin, and dug into your bottom lip.

You did not mind. Even if you bled, it would all be worth it.

Bane would grind his hips as you moaned into his kiss; he plunged into your already drenched depths, over and over, those minuscule, inverted spines massaging your overstimulated G-spot.

He wound his arm around your neck, the other still being used to hoist you up. He pressed you close together; you thought you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Oh, Cad,” you murmured softly. That was all it took. Bane lost his load, coating your lavish insides with his ejaculate.

There was no ceremony, only Bane breathing against you calmly. He had an extra batch to spare, but it did not matter—one was enough to tucker you both out.

You kissed him again, from the base of his throat to just below his ear. You trailed your lips across to his sharp mandible.

He walked with you once more, then bent down low, ignoring your affection. He placed you on the mattress, then excused himself to the bedside table.

Bane lit a smoke, then looked you over as you kept still, unwilling, or perhaps unable to move, deciding to just lie there.

“Maybe now we cahn get some shut eye,” he commented offhand.

You balked, blinking up at him, but kept your comments wisely to yourself.

---

The sun rose, bathing the room in a pale glow. You were late to wake, having slept as soundly as a baby.

You were disappointed to find that the bed was empty; Bane was nowhere to be found. You remembered you were not the reason that he was there; he had a job to do for Hondo and his crew.

You had simply been there to warm his bed, more literal than not. He must have been as quiet as a Loth-cat, for he had not disturbed you from your slumber.

You found yourself breathing in the sheets; his smell persisted. It was musky, dark and brooding, with a hint of something spicy. You would bathe in it if it were possible, though instead you were left to reminisce on your night together, wondering if you would ever see the man again.

You turned your head. You were surprised to find a fair amount of credits. You lifted up to count them—there was a total of one thousand.

This was more than you expected—had Hondo let himself inside the room? You wouldn’t put it past him, though he was known for giving you your privacy. Not to mention, you did not even want them anymore. It felt wrong to take them now, especially as Bane had taken up a special place inside you—one that was more than figurative.

You dressed slowly, basking in the rays from Florrum’s sun. You opened up one viewport, enjoying the fresh air.

Still, Bane was in your hair; his scent lingered on your skin. For once, you would not shower—you were not ready. You hoped it stayed with you all day and well into the night. You wondered if it was all Duros who smelled this good, or if it was his special brand of pheromones.

You trudged out into the hall; you made your way to Hondo’s dining parlor. You did not expect anyone to be awake, but the pirate king himself was sitting by his lonesome, nursing some kind of beverage as he fiddled with his datapad.

“Hondo,” you began. The Weequay jumped and spun around.

“Ah, good morning, my dear. I… hope you ded not sleep well,” he cheekily responded.

“A thousand credits is too much—you can keep them,” you said, sitting down beside him.

“A thous—daaaat was not me. Iiiii was going tu ask you tu wait… but only until de end of de day, ah?”

“Then—”

“—Perhaps Bane thought tu pay you.”

You frowned; you felt like a common whore. You supposed you were, but you had never meant to be.

“I take et you were successful?”

“Successful?” you asked.

“De grumpy man…” Hondo hesitated. “He es… not so grumpy anymore.”

“You said he wanted my company!” You spoke forcefully as it all came rushing back. “He wanted a warm body.”

“And you are warm, are you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“—We shall take dis as a mission accomplished!” Hondo smiled, showing all his teeth.

“But I don’t want the money,” you reiterated, sinking in your seat.

Hondo’s smile faded; he looked you over with curiosity. It dawned on him what you were feeling. He was quick to try to shut it down.

“Ohhh no, my dear. Du not fall for dat man. I have seen dis look before! He will only hurt you en de end.”

The Weequay pat you on the back. He stood then strolled off somewhere else. You barely caught what he had to say, something about “business,” but it was always that way with him.

Your mind drifted; you wondered when all the hunters might return. Would they want to celebrate after a job well done? Would Bane come back again?

You were content to wait; you placed your head down on the table. You looked off into the middle distance, wondering what he might be up to—him and Aurra Sing, Bossk, and Dengar.