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Twilight Sojourn, ch.4
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 17:08:44 +0000 UTCAuthor's Note: Now out in open space, Nura Qan finally gets a moment to plan her next steps, and reassess her relationship to her new 'companions,' the desperately horny Kapp Zethri, and the sulking loose cannon, Jasst.
[story] [fu/fu] [bathing/rubbing] [blowjob] [D/s] [denial]
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I am unchained. I am unleashed. I am free. I am fury, lust, hunger, madness, I am pure, I am alive, I am unstoppable. Vivid red shapes shoot past the periphery of my vision like stars in hyperspace, though each claws out at me as it rushes by – reaches out to rake at me, to take me, to drag me away, to bite and tear. I am not without claws of my own. As they attempt to bind and rend me, I tear at them in response, unleashing myself upon any and every foe. Once they are in front of me, I beat and rip at them, unseeing, unfeeling, just releasing my wild, passionate frenzy until nothing is left but wheezing and seeping colors, wet and hot, red upon red.
I awaken with a gasp, and my mind is filled with a soft buzzing sound. My senses return to me slowly, erratically – an instant later, I notice the feel of cold metal in my hands, and my eyes adapt to the sight of a slender beam of deep blue light in front of me. Tight in my grip is the hilt of the lightsaber I got from Vaax, its blue blade activated, while I stand naked in the middle of my quarters. No, I don’t simply stand… I am poised, feet squarely planted, hips tilted, the weapon interposed between myself and an unseen attacker. I’m holding the weapon like a seasoned warrior, like a Jedi. Like I know how.
In an instant, I recoil, almost dropping the weapon before considering the disastrous consequences if I do. The slightest fumble could easily remove one of my own limbs or, fuck, slice me in half entirely, and even simply dropping it might send it through the hull of the ship. Instead, I keep my grip tight, groping around with my thumbs to find some sort of button or switch that will turn the thing off. Finally, I bump just such a button, and the thing deactivates – and only then do I finally exhale. “Dank farrik,” I whisper, taking a few deep breaths now that the danger has passed.
My body’s blazing hot with anxiety, or some other intense emotion I haven’t quite yet processed. What was that dream…? It had felt so real, yet it had felt like nothing at all. Like I’d reached out and touched something, some dark place, and become trapped inside, transformed by it. I’m still coated in sweat from it.
Squeezing my eyes shut a moment, I look down at the lightsaber hilt still in my hands. I’ve not seen many lightsabers, and none up-close, but this one seems rather straightforwardly constructed. The activation button is near the bottom, which is tapered to a small, flat cap. Ribs of bronzium cover a short segment of its lower half, but the rest of the thing is a dull, dark gray in color, with a row of thick, stacked discs making up the emitter. And now I know the color of it, too – blue. If only I knew more about Jedi to know what the color meant, if indeed it means anything at all.
Letting out a soft sigh, I go tuck the lightsaber into the small dresser beside my bed, my mind racing, trying to figure out what, exactly, has happened here, though no immediate answers come. Things have been strange ever since my arrival back on Ryloth, since the declaration of the new Galactic Empire, since I got that strange little red pyramid and– the pyramid. Where did I leave it?
I throw on my unwashed gray undershirt and a pair of black panties, running out nearly-naked back to the cockpit, to my hung-up longcoat, immediately fishing through the pockets for the strange little trinket. It’s there, still. Warm to the touch – no, hot. A flash of red light behind my eyes causes me to flinch, and I can feel whispering burble up inside my mind, words I can’t comprehend, can’t hear, only… feel. That connection, again. Connection to something vast, something empty and dark, an endless well of unheard rage. I want to drop the little thing, but I don’t. I hold onto it, withdrawing it from my pocket and looking at it, gazing into the transparent redness, a sort of hazy, infernal light drawing me in. It’s hard to look away. So… hard….
“Ay, what’s the code to the shower? I really need to clean up, and Jasst insists he goes first, says his scales are drying out–”
I drop the trinket back into my pocket, startled out of my moment of deep fascination with it. “Wha– sorry, uhh–” it takes a moment to process what was said and who said it as I whirl around to face the cockpit’s entrance. It’s Kapp Zethri, of course, her old outfit back on, though she looks a bit frazzled from the events of yesterday, her black-dyed hair hanging more lank down her back than usual. Shower code, right. “Uhm, yeah, it’s– here, I’ll just go do it for you. Keep meaning to get the lock taken off, but never get around to it.”
While Kapp certainly looks suspicious, or at least contemplative, of my strange behavior, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, the theelin follows me towards the Falchion’s spacious refresher, where Jasst already waits impatiently. The trandoshan’s massive, teal-scaled body is largely bare but for a towel around his waist, and at least a half-dozen blaster shots mark his torso, already showing signs of healing over. Damn, I’ve always heard trandoshans were tough, but this is a whole different sort of tough. Any one of those shots likely would have made me one with the Force.
The Force. Thinking the word causes me to briefly dwell on it. It’s not something I think of, or have ever much thought of. I know next to nothing about it… but some of the events of the last few days, and this morning in particular, make me consider it. I felt connected to something. But is the Force meant to feel so raw, so violent, so… I don’t know… all-consuming? The Jedi always seemed so placid and in-control. No way that’s what they’re using?
“Hey, twi’lek? The code?” Zethri says, beside me.
“It’s Nura,” I grimace, “Nura Qan. Not twi’lek.” I punch the code in, and the opaque doorway leading to the showering area opens up, letting Jasst stalk inside. Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, I lean back against the opposite wall, looking back at the theelin. “Guess I’ll wait for him to get out, then.”
“And me!” Kapp protests, but is quickly shut down.
“Not a chance. My ship, my refresher. If you were a grumpy trandoshan covered in blaster-wounds, I might think otherwise.”
“I could always join you…” the slicer shows off a toothy smirk, sidling up next to me and nuzzling into my shoulder, a gesture that’s somehow equally playful, and a genuine attempt at seduction. “Maybe help wash your back? Or your… lekku?”
“Pervert,” I chuckle darkly, but relent. “Yeah, sure, we can share. Once the big guy gets out. In the meantime, we should probably discuss where exactly the hell we’re going.”
“The Outer Rim, obviously!” the theelin recoils slightly, leaving one hand on my waist but pulling back far enough to look at me properly. “Away from the Empire and those damn clones.”
“Right, well, thing about that is that Ryloth technically is in the Outer Rim. Just doesn’t feel like it, since the Republic made the place a fucking battleground for the past near-decade. That, and we’re right along the Corellian Run.”
“You said you were taking me to the Outer Rim!” Zethri says, now looking baffled. “You mentioned it several times!”
“And we’re there,” I smirk. “Look, what I’m doing is getting us off the hyperroute and into space, getting us away from the Empire. I think that’s what you actually wanted. I know it’s what I wanted.” I sigh, slouching back, pinching the bridge of my nose. “The question still stands. Where are we going? I’m not exactly eager to head to Hutt Space, if that’s your plan.”
She frowns. “What about Zygerria?”
“That’s all the way across the galaxy!” I exclaim, “and yeah, a twi’lek’s gonna get along really well on Slavery Planet. You may as well have said Tattooine.”
“Ooh, can we go to Tat–”
“No!”
“Kessel?”
“I’m… actually not allowed on Kessel.” I offer an apologetic shrug. “Pissed off the wrong people. Smoothed it over, but if they see the Falchion in their airspace they’re gonna start shooting.”
She thinks a moment. “I have friends on Ord Mantell?”
“That’s in the Mid Rim, I thought that’s where you specifically didn’t wanna be.”
“What I want is to finish the job I was sent on, meet up with someone who actually likes me, and make myself scarce until I know how to maneuver around the new Empire.” She purses her lips. She’s decently quick-witted, when her brain isn’t addled by death sticks or whatever else. “There’s no way the Empire’s dug their fingers into Ord Mantell already. It’ll be safe… for now, at least.”
“Not safe from the Black Suns,” I counter, recalling my rare few dealings on the system. The Black Suns were a crime syndicate not known for being gentle or reasonable. Paid like poodoo, too.
“Black Suns and the Cartel have a temporary understanding,” she says, confidently, “and they certainly won’t want to anger my employer.”
I sigh. “I really do not want to go to Ord Mantell….”
“We can still go to Zygerria.”
“Ord Mantell it is. Away from the Outer Rim, closer to Coruscant. Great.”
There’s a soft hiss as the door opens again, and Jasst’s scaled, muscle-bound frame skulks out, dried scales now wet and gleaming. I swear it looks like his wounds have healed even further since I saw them a few minutes ago. “All yoursss,” he snarls, shouldering past me and back, presumably, to whatever room he’s claimed.
“Looks like we have a plan, then,” I grumble, drawing my top up over my head, then shimmying out of my underthings, making my way into the smaller chamber where we can finally clean up. Kapp Zethri’s already stripping too, though… I like to think, not as gracefully. “Once we’re done, I’ll turn the Falchion around and we’ll haul ass for Ord Mantell. You can meet your friends, get the hell out of my hair, and I’ll… fuck, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“I could put in a word for you. With the Cartel, I mean. You’re quick, not terrible in a fight,” the slicer says, though it sounds almost painful for her to voice a compliment that isn’t about my physical appearance. “You also made good on our deal, even when you didn’t have to.”
“What do you mean?” I grunt, shutting the door after she steps in, closing us both into the small, largely featureless white cylinder. I grab onto the small, pistol-gripped device attached to the wall, pulling its trigger and causing it to spray out a fine, cleansing mist, aiming it first at Zethri. “You’ve held all the cards in this little game of Pazaak, you said it yourself.”
“You could have ditched us when the clones caught wise,” she says, stretching her arms upward so I can spray beneath them, over her sides back, the warm mist swiftly cleaning away the brief rigors of the day and night before. With my free hand, I gently rub along her shallow curves, sliding my fingers along her hips, up her belly, along her breasts – trying not to make it too clear how much I’m enjoying myself, but nonetheless indulging in the tactile feast of her wet, slender figure. “You didn’t. Covered for us so we could get on. Can’t say I’d have done the same for you.”
“Eh, well, there’s a reason I became a smuggler, instead of anything… rougher,” I flash a brief, thin smile, one I don’t think Kapp even sees, and I continue to spray her, my hands sliding up her inner thighs now, rubbing up along her smooth sack and slowly-hardening girldick. “Too soft, I guess.”
“Mmnn… you can say that again…” she sighs contentedly as I gently massage up along her swelling cock, stroking gently, then sliding back around to firmly knead my nimble fingers into the perky meat of her ass (something I’ll have to come back around to, if she’s a good girl – I can definitely see myself stuffed into this thing). She’s relaxing back, stance widening a little, eyes drifting shut, clearly ready for something… that I’m not going to give her.
“Your turn,” I say, standing up and tossing her the little spray-gun, which she clumsily fumbles for. Just as she did, I lift my arms so she can spray beneath them, but I can’t help but relish the look of anguished frustration on her pretty face.
“What do you– I thought you were going to…?” she whines.
“Clean you? I did.”
Another sound, somewhere between a groan and whimper, and the theelin bites her lip, beginning to spray me down, just as I had her. The inherently erotic nature of rinsing down my naked body, of course, means that her erection is showing no signs of coming down, throbbingly hard with anticipation and unfurthered momentum. “Right, I… ermm… yeah, I’ll just, ahh…” she swallows, continuing to clean me, and focusing on my most sensitive areas, as I had her – though her attempt comes off more desperate than seductive, needily groping at my breasts, my hips, my ass, cleaning down my thighs until she’s crouched in front of me, her nose bumping gently into my cock. A moment later, her lips follow, suckling at the side of my shaft as it swells to greater size and purpose, tongue teasing along the head as she drops the refreshing-gun to the floor.
“Mmmn… nice,” I moan quietly, picking up the gun and continuing to use it properly, as Kapp seems to have completely abandoned her prior duties – her desire to get her mouth around some twi’lek dick has washed away her other priorities quite completely, and she now finds herself dragging her tongue lovingly up the underside of my shaft, letting out a breathless, almost worshipful, gasp of satisfaction as she does. Poor thing barely seems to be control of her urges.
See, I’m a horny gal – notoriously, I would say, as would quite a number of young ladies on Corellia and elsewhere across the galaxy – and I wear that label with pride. Zethri, on the other hand, is thirsty, and that seems to be where we differ. Because I have control over myself, I have control over her as well.
Reaching down with my free hand, I take hold of her wet mane of black hair, using it as a sort of rein to keep her in place as she kisses and laps at my girlcock, licking around the tip before finally taking the entire thing shamelessly into her mouth, bobbing down as deeply as she can (which ends up being ‘completely,’ the girl does have some skill). Both her hands are on my backside, clinging to me as she draws back, then slides forward again, my hand on her head serving as the ratchet-point that only allows her to withdraw so far.
“Mmmn… nnn… mlllm…” she moans, her big, dark eyes looking up at me now, growing wet at the corners from the effort of taking my cock so deeply down her throat.
“There’s a good girl,” I coo down at her, though I ensure my tone remains cool enough that she not feel too emboldened by the compliment. “Faster, now.” It’s more command than suggestion, but the slicer accepts it immediately, pulling back, then sliding forward again, her tongue swirling and massaging along my shaft with greater eagerness. I have to confess, despite my attempts to remain rather withholding with Zethri, her mouth feels exquisite, and I daresay she does a better job using it herself, than I do using it for her – as fun as face-fucking her last night certainly was.
Finally, it’s my turn to drop the refreshing-gun, which slides harmlessly back towards the wall, as I pin my free hand to the wall behind me, squeezing my eyes shut and just enjoying the sensation, relishing Zethri’s mouth as she goes faster and faster, relentlessly eager and thorough, taking me as deep down her throat as she can each time she buries her horned head between my thighs. She lets loose all manner of lewd sounds, her moans muffled with the sounds of her gagging and drooling, struggling to keep me down her gullet – and soon, she’ll have another challenge to contend with.
“Unngh… fuck…” I groan, gritting my teeth, my toes curling, sack swelling, and back arching as I unleash myself down her throat – or the first few shots, at least. She recoils when she feels the first pump of hot seed into her belly, and draws back, catching the next few in her mouth, then the last couple across her face, causing her to let out a stunned gasp.
“A little – kah – w-warning, next time!” she splutters, rubbing at one of her eyes.
“Maybe,” I shrug, then let out a deep, satisfied exhale of breath. Shaking the stars from my eyes, I grab a towel from the inner door, then pop it open to head out into the main refresher. “That was nice. Alright – I’ll go get those coordinates set for Ord Mantell. We’ll be there a hell of a lot faster than Zygerria, that’s for sure.” Grabbing my clothes off the floor, I begin to walk, still quite nude, toward the cockpit.
“W-wait,” the theelin protests, seeming almost dazed, still sporting a raging erection between her slender legs. “What about me?”
“What about you?” I call back without turning around. Still, a small smile curls my lips as I walk away. She’s definitely a lot more fun to have around like this… as long as I don’t overplay my hand. I’ll fuck her properly soon. Maybe once we’ve gotten to the wretched hive of scum and villainy that is Ord fucking Mantell.
