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“Is that all you’ve got?”
A brawl has broken out in the cantina, not a strange sight on a planet so deeply steeped in corruption as Ord Mantell. The patrons of the cantina are used to such a thing, though the participants are causing a bit more interest; two non-descript Human men, dressed in their Republic casuals… against a lithe, Cathar woman in a well-loved leatheris jacket of bright pink. Her nose is bleeding, the blood stark upon her pale golden hide and white facial markings, though she hardly seems to notice, fists still raised in defense. Her claws are still retracted, and she isn’t growling. These men aren’t that much of a threat, no need to cause a scene and terrify the Humans here.
That’s what began the fight, in fact. The two men had approached her, and without even asking for her name propositioned her. Joking at their expense and rebuffing their advances came naturally, however the men did not take too kindly to an alien turning them down, as though their interest in her was a compliment in itself. She tries not to roll her eyes, still on defense, her blue gaze darting between both of the men, waiting.
The man on her left tries again, a feigned right hook into a left-handed uppercut towards her stomach. A good tactic, however… she’s Cathar. It’s like he’s moving in slow motion, and she ducks the feigned hook. Grabbing his left hand before it can make contact with her stomach, she uses the momentum to crack her elbow up against his jaw, and… damn, that smarts. She almost laughs as the sensitive nerve there is twinged. Taking a step back, she quickly eyes the other man in the fight, her most recent attacker busy shaking his head, clearly rattled by the forceful hit.
Suddenly, a deep voice cracks through the cantina like a whip, the slight growl underneath the words causes the hair on the nape of her neck to rise.
“What is going on here?”
A tall Cathar man stood at the entrance to the cantina, his intensely green eyes examining the scene, clearly unamused. Seeing his orange and tan Republic casuals almost causes her to roll her eyes. Great, a corrupt officer come to throw her in the brig for the night. Without her ship she had planned to just curl up in Viidu’s warehouse behind some crates… a cell for the night might not be bad.
As the man stalked over, however, his ire was directed at the two soldiers, not her.
“Privates, would you like to explain to me what is going on?”
His voice held a hardly restrained fury, and she realized he was probably a great officer, real intimidating. Finally relaxing her defensive stance, she wipes her face and grimaces at the blood on the back of her hand. Preparing to slink away to avoid any further confrontation, she was stopped in her tracks by the Cathar officers voice again.
“You two get to the brig, now. This behavior is unacceptable for soldiers of the Republic.”
Well… she didn’t expect that. He glares at the men as the slink out of the cantina, shame and anger clear, and she reminds herself to avoid them in case they get out before she leaves this miserable rock behind.
“I apologize on their behalf, regardless of how the altercation started they were out of line. I’m Lieutenant Jorgan, and you can come to me if you have any more trouble.”
That causes a mischievous smirk to slide across her features, and despite the blood on her face, she can see Aric examining her appearance with an appreciative glint in his eyes.
“I’m Ingles… Captain Ingles, theft of my ship notwithstanding. I’d shake your hand, but…”
She grumbles and gestures with her bloody hand, though Ingles smiles at him again.
“Might be nice to have the ear of a Republic officer… how much trouble do I gotta get into before you rescind that offer?”
Ingles saunters up close to him, and the Lieutenant looks down at her, eyes narrowing. She’s quite aware they still have an audience, and Jorgan seems to suddenly realize this as well. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, because of course this man carries a handkerchief, Jorgan offers it out to her, eyes on her nose. He really is the example of a stoic officer; she can’t get a good read on him.
“Well, Captain, you might already be at your limit. Clean yourself up.” Aric keeps looking her over, he’s impressed she managed to hold her own against the two men, though not surprised. Cathar women have always been great fighters.
She laughs brightly, taking the kerchief and making sure her to caress his hand, the pads of her fingers gently touching the callused pads of his own. The small touch almost causes her to shiver, and she mentally shakes herself, it’s not been that long since you’ve been intimate, get it together.
“Thanks…” Ingles sighs, “I need a drink.”
Aric gestures to the bar and Ingles raises a brow, but acquiesces and takes a seat at the far edge, back to the wall. He suppresses a grin at her caution, not blaming her one bit after the night she’s had and takes the stool next to her signaling to the bartender.
“This one’s on me, Captain.” Aric gives her a polite nod, though it’s an excuse to look at her more.
Her coloring is unique and beautiful, a pale gold with white highlights that continue into her hair; he can’t help but appreciate her looks. His eyes slide up her neck and land on her lips, which are pulled into a smirk. Aric’s eyes meet hers, and he simply nods, turning to face the bar. They both order something strong, and Ingles sighs when it arrives, taking a swig of the amber liquid and leaning against the wall.
“I have had it with this planet. How long you been here?” Her eyes have slipped close, as she takes a moment to just relax. It’s been running and gunning since she landed, fucking Skavak. A quiet growl starts in her throat but she halts it quickly, she needs to keep her cool.
Aric heard the aborted growl, and can’t help but be curious. What has this starship captain been up to? Taking a drink of his own, he contemplates her question, and decides to be honest.
“Too long. Fighting these sep’s is real tiring. You see some action then?” He smirks at her, “Besides your bar brawl.”
Ingles snorts, eyes opening so she can roll them at him. She leans up from the wall, moving closer to him simply because of the proximity of the stools. She smells like blood and sweat, though underneath is an enticingly warm, woody scent. Aric’s nostrils can’t help but flare as he scents her, and Ingles notices. Her gaze meeting his.
“Been nothing but action, this planet is a mess. Did you know there were soldiers betting on refugees running through a mine field?” She scoffs and takes a drink, “I love a good bet, but I gotta draw the line somewhere. Someone blew up as I walked by.”
Aric growls, this one not suppressed in any way. “I was told that was shut down. The soldiers here are a disgrace to the Republic, and I have no idea how to fix it.”
He takes a drink, grimacing at his own words. So much for his confident and in control veneer. Though when he looks at Ingles again, she just looks sympathetic.
“Well, if I had my ship I’d offer you a bunk, tempt ya to go AWOL.”
She’s clearly joking, trying to lighten the mood with her own poor circumstances, and it works. Aric chuckles quietly, looking down into his whisky.
“Mm, tempting, though I’m sure your work would be more complicated with the Republic gunning for one of your crew.”
Ingles laughs and swirls her drink, gesturing to the bartender for a refill as she swallows the rest down. “Republic would have to catch me first.”
“Does that cocky attitude ever get you into trouble, Captain?” Aric leans in slightly closer to her, a smirk on his lips.
She loves playing chicken, so Ingles leans in as well, their faces getting very close. She can smell him stronger now, a clean, spicy scent that she finds she enjoys.
“My middle name is ‘trouble’, Jorgan.” To emphasize this, she places her free hand on his knee, fingers pressing lighting on his inner thigh. Ingles hides a smirk in another drink of whisky as she sees Jorgan jerk slightly and look down at her hand.
“That… doesn’t surprise me.” Aric was planning to make a move too, though he got mesmerized looking into her blue eyes, and that smirk…
Her gaze and hand pull away as the bartender returns with her refill, Aric already missing her touch. Ingles is thankful for the free liquor. Having everything you own stolen from you is pretty damaging to the finances. She doesn't hesitate to toss this drink back right away, feeling relaxed for the first time since landing. Ingles looks back to Jorgan, licking her lips.
“So, you plannin’ on stayin’ in the cantina all night, or do you wanna get outta here?”
Her voice carries the suggestion; let’s get out of here together. Jorgan feels a small tingle of lust travel down his spine and into his groin, it’s been a long time since he was propositioned, let alone been intimate with someone. Meeting her gaze again, he gives her a quick nod, knocking back the rest of his whisky and standing from the stool. He knows the bartender will just put the drinks on his tab, so he looks down at Ingles, a small grin on his lips.
“Ready when you are.”
She hops up from the stool, right into his personal space. Aric doesn’t mind, her hair is practically right below his nose, her shoulder pressed into his chest as she sets down the glass, and he takes the opportunity to breathe in the scent of her again. Ingles turns and lifts up on her toe tips, nipping his chin lightly.
“Lead the way, handsome.”
Aric rumbles a low growl in his throat, and he ignores Ingles’ smirk as he grabs her hand, gently pulling her from the cantina. The Republic HQ he’s been working and living in is right next door, which is both convenient and unfortunate as there is less of an excuse to not spend every night there.
Ingles smiles at his back as she’s gently pulled along, watching him. He’s such a soldier. His stride is confident and sure, his posture is perfect. It’s almost comical watching him walk so assertively dragging a one night stand behind him, and she can’t suppress a giggle. Aric looks over his shoulder at her, his brow raising, but she just smiles her charming smile, and he can’t help but to return small one of his own, relaxing slightly.
It’s late enough that the HQ is quiet. Aric wouldn’t have been ashamed to be seen bringing Ingles to his bunk, but it prevents soldiers prying into his private life. Scuttlebutt is annoying enough without him being the center of it. Entering his small room with Ingles still in tow, he turns on the lights and palms the door shut.
It’s a small storage room that was converted into a private bedroom, but before he can even make a comment on the sorry state of the accommodations, Ingles has spun him around and pushed him against the door. Her warm body is pressed flush to his, and he can feel the swell of her breasts against his chest even through their layers of clothing. She wastes no time pressing her lips to his, and they are just as soft as he imagined they would be.
Aric’s hands slip down her sides, cupping her rear and pulling her hips even closer. She purrs quietly, her tongue teasing his lower lip, silently asking for entry. He can’t deny the captain, so he meets her tongue with his own, groaning in his throat at the feeling. It’s been so long since he’s been with a Cathar woman, or any woman for that matter, and so the feeling of her slightly rough tongue meeting his causes him to harden quickly, his erection straining against his pants.
Ingles can feel him harden, and grins against his lips. Slipping a hand down his toned chest and abs, his very toned chest and abs, wow, she gently grasps him through the fabric, causing Aric to groan and press his forehead against hers.
He growls quietly, “Get out of those clothes before I tear them off.”
Aric notes her shiver, and her hands move quickly, stripping herself while she laughs. “You’d better not, these are my only clothes…”
He does the same and they both stumble the rest of the way out of their clothes. Meeting again in a kiss, they fall into the cot together, Aric twisting them so she lands on his chest. Ingles giggles as their limbs tangle, and she puts her hands on either side of his head leaning back in for more. Their kissing increases in intensity, and suddenly all he wants to do is get his tongue all over her.
He grabs her jaw, and leans in to growl in her ear. “You’re going to ride my face until you can’t remember your name, then I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming mine.”
Ingles shivers again at the command in his voice, though can’t help but grin, “Yes sir.”
Not wasting any time, she moves up his body and straddles his face, placing her hands on the wall for balance. Aric wastes no time either, grabbing her hips and pulling her down onto his mouth. His tongue slips through her folds, probing and tasting her entrance while he scents her mound. He shivers at her arousal, cock throbbing, and slips his tongue up her lips, twirling around her bundle of nerves, and sucking on it lightly.
Ingles is not shy, and she is loud. Her cries of pleasure ring out right away, and her hips grind down onto his face, seeking more of his tongue. Aric grips her hips hard, claws extending slightly to press into her hide and hold her in place. She moans even louder at that, and leans her forehead onto the cool plasteel wall. Ingles keeps trying to roll her hips, but Aric won’t give her an inch. He’s controlling her pleasure now, and damnit she’s going to let him.
Aric is drowning in her, and he’d be happy to die like that. He can feel her quivering under his palms, and the way her thighs try to tighten around his head. He grins against her and growls, tongue and lips working her to a frenzy. At last Ingles is pushed over the edge, she gasps and a loud moan pulled from her as her entire body quivers. Aric doesn’t stop however, not until she’s a shuddering mess above him.
“Jorgan… stars, n-no more.” Her plaintive whine is enough, and he gently pushes her hips down so she can sit on his. However, it’s only to give Aric the leverage to push her onto her back as he slides up between her knees, kissing up her stomach and to her breasts.
Kissing higher still, he gently bites where her neck meets her shoulder. Ingles moans again, her body arching into his. The sound causes a deep purr to rumble in his chest and his hips roll almost without thinking, his cock slipping through her wet folds. They both gasp and meet each other’s eyes.
Ingles smirks at him, leaning up to nip at his chin again, “Well, you gonna fuck me or what, soldier boy?”
He smirks back, hooking an arm under her knee, lifting her leg as he shifts his hips, sliding slowly into her slick entrance. They both moan together, and Ingles grabs Aric’s face, pulling them flush so she can give him a heated kiss. He rolls his hips slowly, pressing further into her with each thrust as their tongues twine together.
One last thrust and he’s fully sheathed within her. With a smirk, Ingles clenches around him pulling a gasp from Aric. In retaliation, he pulls back, almost leaving her completely bereft, which nets him a plaintive whine. Without warning, Aric slams his hips against her, pressing himself fully within her and Ingles’ whine morphs into a moan, causing her hips to roll up against him.
“Just like that.”
Aric is a good soldier, and doesn’t need to be told twice. He snaps his hips, setting a quick, brutal pace, chasing his own desire. Ingles falls back onto the mattress below him, and grips onto the pillow, her moans falling from her lips between encouraging whimpers of his name. Aric can’t help but stare, she’s so beautiful, and he can’t resist reaching out to cup one of her breasts, tweaking her nipple lightly.
“Oh kriff… Jorgan.”
He grins, though suddenly pulls away from her. Before Ingles can reply with indignation, he grabs her hips and moves to flip her. Understanding, helps him and gets on her knees, arching her back and presenting herself for him. Resting her head on her folded arms, she peers back at him, only to find him staring down at her with such a predatory gaze, a shiver of anticipation goes down her spine.
“Gonna just look at me? Or are you gonna do somethin’?” Ingles can’t help but egg him on, shaking her ass at him enticingly.
It works and Aric seems to wake from his trance. Gripping her hips again, he lines up and presses back into her. The new angle causes Ingles to cry out and she changes her posture, grabbing onto the sheets desperately. His cock is hitting just the right spot deep within her, and he has the rhythm now. Her claws have fully extended, and are poking holes in his sheets. Aric’s claws are out as well, one hand gripping her hip and giving her five tiny points of painful pleasure, his other hand trails down her spine and onto her ass, rubbing it gently before grabbing a handful.
His low growl indicates he’s close, his rhythm growing erratic. Ingles could probably come from just his cock, but she wants to come with him inside her, needs to. Shifting, she slips a hand down between her legs, and rubs herself in time with his thrusts.
Aric grips her hip tightly, his claws shallowly piercing her hide as his hips snap once more, and he moans, “Ingles…”
As his cock starts to spasm within her, Ingles climaxes as well calling his name loudly just as he desired, light sparking behind her eyes as her hearing almost goes, so intense is the pleasure. Both of their bodies begin to relax, and Aric pulls from her, regretfully, flopping onto the bed beside her. Ingles is moving to stand, and Aric has a moment of disappointment, unable to stop himself reaching out to touch her elbow. She must see it in his eyes, because she smiles at him sweetly.
“Just need the ‘fresher… speaking of where is it?” Standing, she stretches and moves towards the door on wobbly legs. Looking at their discarded pile of clothes, she grabs his orange officer shirt and slips it on. It looks like a ridiculously short dress, and he snorts at the sight of it.
“It’s the next room on the right.”
Winking, Ingles slips out, and Aric sighs. Damn, he was worn out, but it felt great… it really had been too long. Standing to stretch, Aric begins to straighten the bed for sleep, and grunts at the holes in his sheets. Just as he lays back down, Ingles slips back into the room. Smirking at him, she pulls off his shirt, seemingly content to sleep naked. Dimming the light, she skips to the bed and vaults gently over Aric, putting her own back to the wall as she sidles up against his chest. It’s not a large cot, so cuddling is inevitable, not that she minds.
He slips an arm under her neck, and one around her waist, pulling her close before throwing the sheet over their bodies. As long as she’s in his bed, he’ll be damned if he won’t get a cuddle out of it, and she doesn’t seem to mind.
Ingles looks up and kisses his chin, settling in and tucking her face against his chest.
“This was fun, Captain.” Aric’s voice is a quiet rumble in the dimmed light, and Ingles hums.
“Sure was, Lieutenant.” She snorts a laugh, “You can call me Ingles, callin’ you Lieutenant after you fucked my brains out is weird.”
He laughs quietly, and then mumbles, “Aric.”
“Huh?”
He looks down at her, shrugging, “Aric, that’s my name.”
She grins up at him and nods, “Alright, Aric, this was fun.” Ingles snuggles back in, ready to sleep. “Still got a place on my ship if you ever get bored of bein’ all soldiery.”
He laughs, because they both know it will never happen, and that’s okay. Settling in for the last time Aric holds Ingles close, as they both drift off to sleep.