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Din called your name from the cockpit. “There’s an incoming message for you!”
You scurried up the ladder, trying to contain your excitement and curiosity. Who in any system would know where you were and want to contact you? You stood beside Din in his pilot’s chair and stared at the blinking holo projector on the dash.
“It’s from the Slave I,” Din said. “Do you want to take it?”
Boba Fett. He had gone on a couple of hunts with Din, fucked you for one glorious night, then left. Now he had returned, trying to get in touch with you. Did you want to take the call? Did you want this fierce bounty hunter back in your life, confusing your feelings for Din?
“You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to,” Din said. “I can ignore the call, or I can take it for you and tell him you’re not interested.”
You resolved. “No, I’ll take it. Stay here though, please.”
Din nodded and pressed the button to receive the transmission.
Boba Fett appeared in a miniaturized hologram, looking as menacing as ever in the Mandalorian armor. “Mando,” he said, acknowledging that he could see the other man in his version of the hologram. Then Fett turned to you. “Princess.”
You’d forgotten, you’d forgotten how weak that gritty voice made you. “Hello, Boba Fett.”
“I want to see you again,” he said. “As it so happens, I’m just a couple hours upspiral from you, heading toward Sullust to drop off a quarry. You could meet me there.”
“How do you have our positional data?” Din asked. “This ship isn’t on Imperial or New Republic radar.”
“It’s on mine.”
“If you put a tracking beacon on my ship…”
“It’s not a tracking beacon. Every system of the Slave I has been upgraded, including the radar. I make a living finding beings who don’t want to be found.” Boba turned back to you. “So, princess?”
“One moment.” You reached over and muted the hologram so you could speak with Din in privacy. “I don’t want to do this if it makes you uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. You’re my priority.”
Din leaned back in his chair, swiveling slightly toward you. “Surprisingly, it doesn’t. You know he just wants to sleep with you, right?”
“Yep. That’s all I want from him, too.”
“Then why not? We’re all adults here.”
You grinned and unmuted the hologram. “I’ll see you on Sullust.”
---
The planet’s surface was a jarring clash of ice and volcanic activity. Din landed the Crest in the spaceport that Boba instructed him to, near the outskirts of a major city. The ground here appeared stable enough. At least the buildings were all intact and didn’t look particularly new, which meant they weren’t being destroyed and rebuilt frequently due to seismic activity.
The Slave I was docked right next to the Crest. You ran down the ramp to find Boba already outside, speaking to a dock attendant. The attendant took Boba’s credits and hurried off toward Din (who had emerged behind you) to claim his docking fee.
Boba let you think he wasn’t going to move, so you walked all the way up to him. Then at the last second, he took a step forward, inserting himself into your personal space. “You came.”
“Hopefully I’ll be coming some more before the day is out.”
It was a bad joke, but Boba laughed anyway. “Follow me. I just have to turn in this quarry, and then I’m yours.” He led you into his ship with a hand on the small of your back.
The Slave I’s interior was just as threatening as stories had led you to believe. The utilitarian severity, the spotless floors and tidy racks of supplies that spoke to the care Boba had for his ship, the cage on your right that sectioned off a small third of the space. Simple metal bars extended from floor to ceiling, broken only by a door of more bars that afforded entry. And blocked escape.
Boba tapped his vambrace to a pad on the wall, and you remembered his talk of traps. Note to self: Do not enter the Slave I without Boba.
There was a Weequay man in the cage who stood at your entrance. He wrapped dirty hands around the bars and leered at you. “Well, well. Is this lovely thing another quarry? Put her in here with me.” He licked dry lips.
You didn’t even see the blaster move. Boba had it out in a fraction of a second and shot the Weequay in the shoulder through the bars of the cage.
He screamed and fell to his knees, clutching the wound. Ruby blood welled out between his fingers.
Boba sheathed the blaster. “Stay here while I deal with this,” he told you. “I shall return shortly.” He unlocked the cage with a code on the door’s keypad and another touch of his vambrace. Then he dragged the Weequay out of the ship.
In stunned silence, you gawked at the drops of blood on the ground. Boba had just shot that man for making a lewd suggestion about you. Did you need him to defend your honor? No. Was it a sweet gesture? Well, sweet wasn’t the right word—nothing Boba did could be described as sweet in any language—but it did send a tingly feeling to your stomach.
He returned only a few minutes later. “Your boyfriend volunteered to turn in the quarry for me. Generous of him to give us more time.” He closed the ship’s door, cutting off the natural light.
You pointed at the wall pad. “Did touching that turn off a trap?”
“No, that’s a decoy motion that I let people see. The real key to turning off the trap is pointing the helmet at three spots—one on each wall. It looks like I’m just scanning the room.”
Kriff, he was paranoid. Another note to self: Do not sneak up behind Boba and yell “Boo!”
Very aware of his presence, his every tiny movement, you sauntered toward the cage. It was so barren and sinister, representing a side to Boba that you hadn’t really seen yet. You pictured yourself on the other side of the bars, whimpering and terrified facing Boba’s emotionless gaze. “What if I were a bounty?” you asked.
“You’re not.”
“But if I were, you’d put me in here?” You brushed your fingers across one of the bars. Cold.
“I put everyone in there.”
“What if you have multiple at a time?”
He snorted, moving closer. “I don’t take multiple contracts at a time. Unlike your Mando, I don’t go after small-change targets like bail jumpers where you have to turn in five for a decent payday.”
“And what is it like, once you’ve caught them?” you asked, facing him and running a hand up his chestplate. You imagined being tied up. There would probably be begging involved.
“Where is this going?”
Out with it. You might as well tell him. “I think I want to roleplay getting caught by you and, like, bargaining for my freedom.” You cringed, unable to believe how awful that sounded, wishing desperately that you could take it back as the seconds dragged by.
“All right,” Boba said. The blaster came up, pointing at your head. “You’re caught.”
Well, that was fast, but you didn’t mind jumping right into it. The blaster muzzle was a fearsome prop, shocking you into the mood of cornered prey. You swallowed. You had just seen that blaster rip through a man’s flesh.
Boba pulled open the cage door. “You’re certain you want to do this, princess?”
You had to know what he was like with other people, with the creatures he caught and sold. Din always trapped them in carbonite for the journey, but Boba would be interacting with them. What would happen? “Yes,” you said. Then, getting into character, you put your hands up. “Please, I have a family.” A lame beginning, but you would get better.
Boba thought the plea was lame, too. He snorted and gestured to the cage with the blaster. “In.”
You stepped into the cage, then faced him as he closed the door. The lock clicked. “What, no binders or anything?”
“Not unless you give me trouble. Are you going to give me trouble?”
That voice, you wanted to do anything it said. You shook your head slowly.
Boba gave you one long look up and down your body, then climbed a ladder and left you alone.
Wait, what? He couldn’t be about to fly the ship away and steal you, could he? Or was he trying to give you the full experience of psychological torture that his quarries experienced? He would have to come back soon; Din would come looking for you if you were gone too long.
You examined the cage. The floor was wide enough to lay down on, barren durasteel without any padding on which to sleep. The wall to your left, near the door you’d come through, was identical. It would become the new floor when the ship rose and turned ninety degrees for flight, and the bars would become horizontal. Now that you were picturing the ship turning, you realised that a series of grooves on the ground outside the cage would become a ladder.
The drops of the Weequay’s blood had mostly dried. Claw marks raked the cage’s ground, the walls, and a subtle stench lingered. Fear. You sank to the floor.
Boba returned, slipping an ovaloid bowl between the bars. In it sat gray sludge. Boba crossed his arms and stared you down, launching into a rehearsed speech. “You get two meals a day. If you refuse to eat, I will force-feed you. Don’t bother trying to commit suicide by any other means, either. Creatures far craftier than you have tried, and been stopped. I get paid for live quarry. And that’s all you are to me: credits in my pocket. We’ll get along fine as long as you don’t do anything to jeopardize my payday.”
“Why, why would they try to commit suicide?” Was death really better than a prison sentence?
“Oh, sweetheart.” Boba dropped to one knee to meet your eyes on your level. “The beings I go after, the ones with the highest bounties on their heads, aren’t your average criminal. They’re political targets, or people who cheated the Hutts or other major crime syndicates. A man might steal coveted data and store it in a chip planted somewhere in his body or brain before running. Do you know what the Hutts do to creatures who steal from them?”
You shook your head, entranced.
“First they dig out the chip, buried wherever it may be. Then they search for more, slowly, painfully, until you’ve forgotten how many days you’ve spent down in the dark being cut open by droids. Most quarries prefer death on their own terms before delivery.”
Your heart pounded. So this was what Boba did with his time: kept people alive against their will before handing them over for torture. Small wonder he had built up emotional calluses. You finally remembered the roleplay. What would you do if you knew that fate awaited you? “Please don’t turn me in,” you said, grabbing the bars.
“Don’t beg. It won’t get you anywhere.”
“Of course not. But maybe we can make a profitable agreement. You’re a businessman, right?”
“I don’t care how many credits you offer. I have a reputation to protect. See, lesser bounty hunters might sometimes take that deal, if the quarry offers more than their bounty is worth. But clients pay my exorbitant prices because I guarantee delivery. If I started cutting deals, business would go down.”
Time for the part you were really interested in. You made your voice as sultry as possible before saying, “Perhaps there’s something besides credits I can offer you.”
Boba stood. Unlocked the door. Entered and closed it behind him. “You know, others have tried that line, too. More men than you’d think. Most of the women I have in here, some of them quite beautiful.” He advanced toward you slowly, taking his time, and you scrambled back under the onslaught of his vizor’s impassive gaze. “I remember one woman, the queen of some little planet whose people were resisting the Empire’s rule. The Empire was going to torture her until her people gave in or she died. She knew this, but she had no credits to bargain with, and so she offered me her body to use as I wished in return for her freedom. She begged. She told me she had two small children and an entire planet counting on her.”
“What did you do?” you whispered, unable to fathom an ethical decision like that.
“I got paid,” he said succinctly.
Chills ran down your spine. No, Boba Fett was far too professional to give in to any base urges besides greed.
“I don’t cut deals with quarries,” he said.
And yet he was here, in the cage with you, maybe willing to cross his lines in this strange game you played. Carefully, making sure not to startle him, you reached for his hips and unclipped his codpiece. You set the piece of armor on the ground. “Make an exception for me,” you said. Be a different man for me, Boba. Please.
He didn’t stop you as you unfastened his pants. He didn’t stop you as you pulled out his dick and ran a closed fist up its already-hard length. His breathing grew deeper, and he grabbed your hair, dragging his dick across your face.
Your eyelids sank halfway and your lips parted as you relished the vulgarity. This was it. He was going to fuck your mouth, use you to get off. Potent heat settled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head until the tip of his cock entered your mouth and pressed into your cheek.
Boba drew back as if burned. “I can’t do this. Get up. You don’t belong in here.” He had yanked you to your feet, out of the cage, and to the far side of the room before you realized what was happening. Planting you with your back to the wall of supplies, he said, “I don’t want you back in there ever again, you hear me?”
Oh no, you had fucked up bad . “I’m sorry,” you said as shame washed through you. The roleplay idea had been so stupid.
Boba got his breathing under control, and then he took off his helmet. Without it, he didn’t look like the Boba Fett of lore, the stone-cold hunter. He was just a scarred man. “Do you still wish to continue? I can take you back.”
You took it as a good sign that he wasn’t immediately kicking you out. “I do if you do.”
He knelt to the ground and removed your boots one at a time, gently. Then he slid his hands up your calves. “You’re not a quarry,” he said. “You’re not a job.”
“I know.”
He nodded, then continued the path of his hands up your legs to the waistband of your pants, pulling them and your underwear off. He stood, and his mouth met yours.
You were afraid to make a sound and break the spell. You didn’t want to ruin this moment any further. But, it also felt like you two were past what had happened in the cage, in a way. Being with him out here was different.
Boba’s cock prodded your entrance, and he lifted one of your legs to give himself more room. Then he slid into you in a drawn-out motion that shattered your resolve not to make any noise. He held his position sheathed fully inside you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Boba,” you whispered.
He began to move, fucking you with powerful thrusts that pushed you to your toes so you were almost fully supported by him and the wall behind you.
You canted your hips into his, groaning a little with each thrust. Your heel dug into the back of his thigh. What was it about him that turned you on so? Even Din had questionable moral character sometimes; it came with the territory. He killed people. He kidnapped people for credits. And yet Boba Fett seemed worse in ways that were difficult to describe.
Apparently, Boba’s thoughts mirrored yours. “I’m not a good man,” he said into your neck, “by anyone’s definition.”
You considered a joke about him being good at some things, but discarded it. “I know.”
“And yet you’re here. Will you come back?”
He wasn’t a good man. You’d seen today how he treated his captives locked in the cage of his ship named ‘Slave.’ And yet he couldn’t bear the sight of you in their place. And yet you couldn’t stay away. “I’d like to come back.”
His hand slid up under your shirt to grab your breast. “You should stay with me.”
You, you hadn’t expected that. “What?”
“Your Mando has a code of honor. We can’t afford codes of honor in this profession. It’s already gotten him in trouble, hasn’t it, with that baby he rescued?”
When you didn’t answer, he pressed you harder into the wall of supplies. One of the buckles holding everything in place dug into your shoulder.
“It’s going to get him killed, and then you’ll be all alone.”
Your eyes squeezed shut. You couldn’t focus when he was fucking you this well. “I can’t stay with you. I love him and— Fnarling hell, Boba.” He was mouthing your neck now, driving you to distraction. You couldn’t just abandon Din, not so soon after he had shown you his face! Not when there was so much left to do with him.
Boba’s cock slid in and out of your pussy with filthy squelching sounds. “Shh. It’s all right. Forgive an old man his ramblings.”
“You’re not that old.”
He chuckled but didn’t reply.
He had to be around Din’s age, which was older than you, but… You literally could not think about this anymore. You didn’t care. “Boba, I’m close.”
“Go on, princess. Come around my cock.”
Your hands scrabbled for purchase on his back. In moments, you felt that soaring, jump-to-hyperspace feeling coursing through your body. “Boba!” Even with your eyes closed, you saw white.
Boba picked up speed as you came. “Where do you want it?” he asked.
You buried your face in his neck, still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Do you have the implant?”
“No.”
“On my leg.”
Boba pulled out and spilled all over your thigh, white and sticky and warm. He huffed, catching his breath.
No, you didn’t mind his age, his scars, his ruthlessness—any of the things that should’ve given you pause. You were already in love with one bounty hunter, and you accepted their way of life. Opening your eyes, you rested your chin on Boba’s shoulder and let him hold you.
The empty cage filled your vision.