Beauty and the Bounty Hunter - Chapter 2
Formerly “Reap my Keep”
Original Request / Chapter 1 | Part 3 / Chapter 3
AO3 link
Word count: 6.4+
Warnings: Humor, smut, fingering, mild electrocution, biting, squirting, spanking, blood drinking, tit and clit fondling, begging. ( N$FW - 18+)
Chapter summary: Cad Bane was fine, but a Chiss had caught your eye - right after the bounty hunter had made a meal of you - wasn't he good enough, or are you just a slut glutton for punishment?
You are Aurora Ordel, and you had just been caught red-handed straddled atop Cad Bane, but you held your head high, far from ashamed.
“Entry 1,” you spoke aloud softly as your hired mercenary was readjusting his leather hat. You had traipsed forward toward the automated doors though you paused to make a quick voice memo to yourself. It was to be a private recording on your wrist comm – above all else, you were a scientist – it would be entitled: “Field Notes: Duros.”
“Duros have highly skilled tongues and a powerful sense of smell as was noted by the subject, though they do not appear to have a nose. Excellent kissers despite not having definable lips, and as cold-blooded creatures hailing from the planet Duro, their skin and tongues are also cold to the touch.”
“What’s dhat ye' said, wo’man?”
You spoke more hurriedly so you wouldn’t have to answer him, however it was in your best interest to get this over with. The Emperor was waiting for you - not the ideal situation to be in - his patience was on record as being thin. “Exceptionally astute at cunnilingus though unsure if the females of the species have a clitoris or a Gräfenberg spot for that matter. Will investigate later - more to come. Cum.”
You had been forced to hastily put your thong back on; Bane had buckled himself back up. He made a joke that he should charge you extra for going down on you but thought ultimately it evened out. You had a wicked idea cross your dirty mind, though you would have to save it for another time.
He had rubbed away your lipstick; he had kriffed it up while kissing you. You ran to the refresher, wiped it off your face and pouty lips only to reapply; it was ruby red, along the same color as his eyes. Cad Bane made his own comment then, aimed at human women, or others who liked to don the stuff. “Don' get what it’s fer .. jus' gets ssmeared ah’round everywhere...”
You puckered up then canted your head off to the side; you gave your mouth all the appearances of being a plush, pink, wet vagina. The left side of his brow ridge raised; he shook his head a fraction of an inch though his mind was blown, and he was turned on.
A new synapse was born, a neuron or two being rearranged; things reorganized inside his strategic brain, however you felt that you had informed him of something he should already be aware of, though Duros didn’t have much in the way of lips – maybe that was it.
The bounty hunter tailed you with a kind of laggard petulance as you came to a pause, thinking about your luscious lips now and miffed because of it. You waited before deciding to skirt around a corner. You heard Lord Vader talking to some unknown person, though you most assuredly recognized the voice. He wasn’t one known to whisper; Vader’s presence was nerve-wracking to most, though with Bane behind you, you found yourself less inclined to be afraid.
“This clone suffered from a faulty inhibitor chip, it was for the best that he be eliminated, however this incident is somewhat disturbing as others among our ranks might be affected.” He had lowered his booming voice the best he could as the body was gathered up, taken from the hall by white armored soldiers and down the full length of the spacious corridor. So that explained how this man had entered the Imperial Palace under Vader’s watchful, pitch-black eyes – it could be said to be an “inside job,” but what did he mean by “chip?” That was the first you had heard of it.
You sauntered onward, interrupting their little back and forth; the other man was Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, his hands folded behind his back. He greeted you, tipping his head somewhat in respect, then looked down his nose at the hunter paid to guard you, a sneer plastered along his sorely lacking lips. They were thin even for a human; you wondered if he had any Duros in him.
“We’re so glad you’re safe.” His words rolled off his tongue with a lacquer of disdain; it crossed your mind that he didn’t truly mean it, perhaps jealous for not getting the credit of the Onager-class starship you had designed, yet it was said he had his own insidious projects in the works, a finger in every figurative pie but definitely not in yours.
You were a consultant, an inventor who worked alongside Rothana Heavy Engineering. It was a subsidiary of Kuat Drive Yards though your lab and office were on Coruscant. Many a time this man had visited you to oversee your progress and those of the other engineers. He was a nuisance and got in your way more than you thought necessary, even though you were an Imperial employee and your credits were collected from their payroll; your salary was more than fair.
“I just thank my lucky stars Cad Bane was here.” You didn’t mention the fact you had nearly killed the man yourself; you wanted the hunter to acquire the acclaim, to “reap his keep,” anything to please him - one of your new hobbies - something you had just picked up.
You backed up a step; you aligned yourself; your arm rose to encapsulate Bane’s by the crook of his narrow elbow. You pulled him close as if he were to be a proper escort; you could not deny the fact you were still feeling aroused. Something about him smelled good, and perhaps your tone of voice betrayed you, full of salaciousness and a coyness you just couldn’t seem to hide. That, or that sense of smell he had might perceive you were anything but dry.
Cad allowed you to manipulate his person; he was getting paid half a million credits just to keep you safe; the least he could do was permit you to latch on if you so preferred though he was temporarily distracted, speaking up as he had grown somewhat curious; suspicious; his blood-colored eyes affixing themselves on a temporary lightsaber toting target. “Somethin’ famil’iar a’bout’cha – can’ figur' it out… Feels like we’ve met b’fore.”
The Duros trailed off as his free arm idled above a holstered blaster, thin digits drumming along casually on the weapon’s grip as if he meant to pull it, seized by some unknown source of apprehension though it was plain as day he was talking to Lord Vader.
Darth Vader ignored the hunter’s comment - he turned to you and gave you a rigid reprimand that made your cheeks flush red - “Do not keep the Emperor waiting any longer.”
He turned back to Bane a moment, regarding him with cold indifference, thinking on his past interactions though Bane had no idea who Darth Vader truly was. Anakin had hated him for endangering his wife and his Padawan, among other petty grievances, but he was a different person - less a man and more of a machine – a Dark Lord of the Sith - a force to be reckoned with, and he respected Cad Bane’s skill. However, that did not mean he would not kill him. “I hired you for your reputation, not to talk, bounty hunter. It would be wise to keep your thoughts and speculations to yourself.”
He turned, departing from the hallway, his black cape swirling around him to accompany his dramatic exit. You glanced up to Bane - where his upper lip should be had curled backward into the shape of a scornful snarl – he didn’t appreciate being scolded by this pompous asshole who hid beneath a helmet though he kept his mouth shut; Darth Vader was no one to kriff around with. Bane could sense his power, the darkness that lived within, and to top it off he was the one who was paying him.
Tarkin cleared his throat, extending his hand in a simplistic motion, offering you to walk ahead. You kept the Duros pinned to you, thinking there might be someone else here out to get you, though in reality you wanted an excuse to keep him close.
“Don’t let go; stay with me,” you whispered, Cad Bane reaching into the deep pockets of his heavily armored duster to remove an extra toothpick - it helped as a way to stave off some of his irritation at Darth Vader - the act of stimming being in the consistent chewing of the object of his oral fixation.
He drawled out a snide reply from the corner of that mouth you wanted to kiss so badly, thinking you couldn’t wait to leave this place and take the Duros with you. “Dhere’s worse thins' Ah’ve been paid t’do.”
Your mind wandered; you had heard of him before this night though you didn’t assume him to be evil – he was money driven, just as you were driven by recognition for your accomplishments - yet this man had put a damper on your parade; you were infatuated with him more so than craving well-earned attention, though tonight had been designated as a celebration for you and your company of engineers.
“Tell me a story sometime?” you implored him, wanting to hear more about what was sure to be a most interesting life, though you didn’t have the time – you had arrived.
Emperor Palpatine’s voice echoed throughout the entirety of the entertainment chamber; you almost felt embarrassed to have all eyes set on you at once, not quite used to all this attention. Speaking before an audience was one thing, but getting praise was entirely another.
He announced your name, your occupation, his arms extending as he held a glass of the finest wine. He bade you come, to approach his throne. You walked with the Duros carefully up the aisle that parted, taking in familiar faces, some that were new to you, and that Chiss; Thrawn they called him – he was ever so gently smiling at you. You chose to ignore his handsome face, having to leave your escort at the footsteps of the stage.
You approached carefully with reverence, your head lowered and your eyes downcast. You showed your respect to your employer, the leader of your new empire. “This day shall go down in history as the day we were given the tools to conquer our enemies! The Separatists still hold in places both near and far, though with this new weaponry added to our navy’s fleet, we shall be unopposed! We will restore peace to the Galaxy where the Jedi and the Republic have failed us!”
There was cheering, salutes, and the clinking of expensive glassware, your gaze lifting demurely to take in the only face you cared about. The Duros’ eyes had narrowed – his attention was on Palpatine. The gears within his mind were churning; it was hard to believe he had once been hired to kidnap him; he looked different, sickly, a shade or two whiter than before, and his eyes were a different color. He had the pretense of someone sinister.
Cad Bane tipped his hat; he hid his face while his fangs bit down a scintilla harder on his toothpick. He was deliberating. He had heard this voice, seen this outline present through the HoloNet within his starship in the form of a faint blue outline. His grating tone and his wrinkled countenance up close... There was no denying it - he was the one labeled Darth Sidious he had worked for not too long ago, though long enough the whole of the galaxy had changed.
He’d been asked for holocrons, stolen children, taken this man hostage on the pretense of getting paid, yet somehow the connection wasn’t made. He knew something now that even his dead rivals hadn’t known: Skywalker, Ahsoka, all the Jedi he assumed. And that even meant poor rat-faced Obi-Wan. Their beloved Chancellor had doubled-crossed them, and he was the one who ordered their untimely deaths - he had wanted to be the one to take out old Kenobi - Bane was angry if only for that fact, but the Duros wasn’t stupid. He kept his mouth sealed. Credits were credits after all and Bane worked with discretion, but all this led up to one startling conclusion: Palpatine was a Dark Lord of the Sith …
The “Emperor” requested a festive song; the band played another snappy jizz tune though more lowkey, something you could dance to. He took his hand in yours – it was icy, almost as cold as Bane’s, though somehow not the same.
You blushed, responding candidly to his questions and his comments. He thanked you for your service once again, and then, and only then, did you dare take leave of him. You waited until he had enough of you to rejoin the hunter who had withdrawn into his overtly large bolero.
Bane's thoughts were traveling at a million parsecs per second, but that scandalous smile you gave him as you stepped forward made him save his philosophical ponderings for later, though he couldn’t help but wonder what other plans your adored leader had in store for everyone under this new dictatorship. As long as it didn’t affect his business he supposed he didn’t care, and it all honesty… with the Jedi removed from the playing field it made things all the easier in the scheme of things.
“Got some aw’ful power’ful ssleemo’s kissin’ yer choobies,” he noted, though it was hard to tell if he was impressed or just annoyed; his statement came out reserved, stoic, and matter-of-fact.
“Mm, yeah? You want to be one of them?”
Your hand trailed up, your nails painted black to match your patent pumps. You grazed a finger along one folded arm, coming to a stop when you reached the edge of his protective leather glove. You coaxed his fingers loose, then brought them to your lips. You kissed his index, pressing your teeth and tongue against it. Cad Bane could feel his dick begin to twitch, extending to press against the backside of his pants. Your sultry eyelashes batted as you asked: “Care to dance?”
He was cursing you inside his head; he plucked his digit right out of your sateen mouth, wiping it off on the side of his leather chaps. You pouted at him, offended, though he hadn’t wanted to admit you had gotten a rise out of him by that simple act alone. You were too beautiful; it irritated him down to his very bones. “Ssilly t’bring atten'tion t’ yerself dhat way.”
“Oh…” You playfully wandered around the back of him, the tip of your forefinger grazing the neckline of his duster. You paused at his left shoulder, placing your large tits against his middle back. You whispered softly into where you thought his ear might be. “So you can’t dance, then. I see. No need to be embarrassed. Lots of people don’t know how to dance …”
He flashed his fangs at you, turning his head the opposite direction, studying nothing in particular in the distance while muttering out a quiet growl of a reply though he was trying to control his increasing arousal; a woman’s breasts were sensuous; one of his favorite things. “Neva' said Ah couldn’, jus’ think it’sa pointless dissplay'a arro’gance t’strut yerself ah’round fer no good reason.”
“What I’m hearing is …” You baited him, loving to get under his cerulean colored skin; he was cute when he was grumpy; it made you want to kiss him even more. “Cad Bane has two left feet.”
“M’feet werk, fine, lil’ lady, it’s yer mouth dhat needs fixin’.”
“My mouth needs a lot of things …” You came full circle, tugging along his arms again, wanting him to join you for at least one song before you decided to call it quits; you were eager for the ride back home in Cad Bane’s starship - you would do your utmost to convince him to take another kind of ride as well - maybe he’d like a nightcap, or to sit down for a spell. Where he would sit was yet to be determined; it was up in the air, like where you hoped your legs would be - a girl could dream…
If he weren’t already mildly vexed, the bastard might have smiled. Instead, he gnawed along the wooden surface of that damned toothpick, ignoring your innuendo though he was having fun imagining shoving his entire cock down the bottomless shaft he thought your throat to be.
“You mean to tell me you know your way around a woman’s naughty bits, but not around the dance floor?” You scoffed, gave a little ‘pfft,’ then rolled your eyes, the Duros quipping back with a remark filled with sass and snark.
“Only floor Ah need t’know m’way ah’round is de pelvic floor.”
“Oh! Touché, Bane!” You genuinely laughed, a charming sound. He didn’t let it show that he was satisfied with himself. However, it would be short-lived as you gave him a reason to second-guess, announcing you’d find another way to dance.
“You win, I give up - wait here for me? You’re paid through the night … just keep your eyes open. I think I’ll go speak to Vice Admiral Thrawn. I’m sure he’ll dance with me.”
You sashayed off, putting a little pep in your step, exaggerating the swaying of your hips. You approached your target, a charismatic Chiss with red eyes and deep blue skin. You were starting to realize that maybe you had a type though Thrawn was soft-spoken, impeccably well-mannered, and practically royalty. However, you sort of found him to be boring. Smart, knowledgeable on art and culture, an expert fighter, yet somehow … he came off as too prim and proper, traditional; you preferred bitter, gangly men with a penchant for getting into trouble, ones whose hands were the Maker’s gift to the whole damn galaxy, but nonetheless you would still enjoy your dance.
Thrawn was conversating cordially with a group of rather important people; you tapped him gently on the shoulder of his admiral’s jacket. He turned to greet you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his quite kissable, well-turned mouth. He extended his hand to yours, lifting your supple flesh to those plump, azure tiers of his; he kissed your hand; it sent a shiver down your spine, one you could not deny.
“Ms. Ordel.” You bit your lip, unable to stop it from occurring; you had only meant to make Cad Bane a little jealous but now you were beside yourself. Looking into those deep hellfire eyes at this vantage point nearly stopped your heart; he was a looker, that much was for sure.
“Admiral … Would you …” Your words were suddenly stuck inside your throat; he could see you struggle. It only made that smile turn into a coquettish smirk; you didn’t even know men were capable of that.
“Care to dance? - I’d love to.” He finished your sentence for you, lifting your arm more gracefully than you could even move your own damned body. Your analytic mind raced; trying to compute how he was having this effect on you. You didn’t even like him. You kept trying to convince yourself he was just another attractive face.
His left arm dipped down to cradle the curve in your pneumatic waist; blue fingers intertwined around the digits of your right. He pressed his chest against yours, closing the gap between you. This wasn’t a grade school social, you were adults, and he was laying it on thick - thicker than your momma’s buxom thighs.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your accomplishment,” he whispered, his voice smoother than a newborn youngling’s bottom. You couldn’t help yourself; you blushed something fierce, not noticing that you were getting what you wanted. Cad Bane was staring; he was glaring at you. What a little slut you were turning out to be…
The Duros had a mind to spank you and not for fun; he wanted to punish you for being so brazenly flirtatious right after he had dined on your pretty cunt. That blue imbecile had his arms around you, and your full, red lips were close to his. He suddenly found himself irrationally angry as he snapped his chew toy right in half; Bane spit it out on the polished dance floor.
“You have done the Imperial Navy a great service with your addition to our fleet. Perhaps you would like to join me on our maiden voyage?” His gaze penetrated you down to your very core; you were turning to mush as you tried to form a coherent sentence. Your eyes drifted for just a moment; the man you had left behind was digging his fingers into the hilt of one LL-30 blaster. You wondered if there was more danger lurking though you managed to respond.
“I would love that, Admiral. Give or take a few weeks and she’ll be all yours,” you crooned into his ear. The Star Destroyer was nearing its completion; soon it would be ready to protect and serve; your posse of engineers would take it for a spin, work out any kinks. You couldn’t have anything go wrong on the day of its christening.
“She will, will she?” Thrawn’s voice was husky, dripping with notes of gooey, sticky honey; it wooed you into a state of swooning. You barely had time to notice Cad Bane was approaching you coupled with the man. You mildly gasped as he came closer, wondering what the matter was, though he had taken you by the arm, tugging you away from Thrawn.
“Cuttin’ in,” was all he said, yanking your body forward like a ragdoll. Thrawn’s pretty mouth had turned sour as he brushed a note of dust off his precious coat. He seemed displeased but held his tongue though you couldn’t manage to. Seeing them next to one another short-circuited something inside you.
“But I thought you didn’t like to dance …” you egged him on; it was exhilarating.
“Ms. Ordel, we’ll talk later.” Thrawn took his leave of you, slightly bowing; he was charming in more ways than you could count. Despite all that, you addressed Cad Bane again as he was grouchily glowering at the other man.
“My, my Bane, I have to say … Admiral Thrawn may be a more lovely shade of blue than you – and those eyes – I’ve yet to decide who’s I rather stare into.”
“Ye' best stop while yer a’head, girlie.”
“Mm, and that ass… I could watch him walk away all day.”
“Yer askin’ fer it…”
“I wonder if he gives better head than you?”
“Final warnin’… Ain’ playin’ a’round wit’chu!”
“And those lips! You don’t really have any…”
He growled at you; your loins stirred; you wanted to fuck him more in that moment than you had previously thought was possible. You craned your neck then spoke into your wrist comm; it was a demure whisper, Cad Bane listening to your infuriating mumbling.
“Entry 2: Duros growl when provoked...”
“I’ll show’ya pro’voked!”
You wiggled your silky fingers to say farewell to the already backward facing admiral as Cad Bane had dug his rough finger pads into your swan-like neck from behind. He pushed you forward through the throngs of party-goers, you smiling all the while. You waved goodnight, you blew a kiss here or there to a friend or two, giggling at a passing joke. Someone wanted to know where you were going. “For a ride, hopefully.” you returned.
He was rougher with you once you had made your way outside the palace; he used his comlink to call that little droid of his.
“Bring de sship a’round!” he commanded. The authoritative tone that laced his sonorous voice sent a little purr of pleasure from out your eager throat. You were drenched, you could simply feel it, your scandalous high-pitched moaning brought on by the thought of what he had in store for you. You were such a whore!
“Relax, Cad! – Can I call you Cad? – It was just a joke!”
He didn’t answer you, those large fingers tightening; he had a hold on your stark roots.
“Don’t get your chaps in a twist! It’s not my fault you’re no fun!”
“Dhat’s no way t’say yer sorry!”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“Ye' don’ know when t’shut up, do ya’!?”
“What are you going do to me, bounty hunter? Torture me?”
---
Five minutes later …
You found yourself across the Duros knee in his captain’s chair; Todo 360 was beside himself. His arms were flailing as he watched the scene unfold.
Cad Bane had practically thrown you aboard his ship, dragging you by the elaborate up-do your hair was in. You were a bundle of unsure nerves though beaming like an idiot despite him being furious, and every note of protest that was added to the otherwise silent inner chamber of the Justifier just served to make him spank you harder; he was determined to knock the spit right out of you and to wipe that annoying smile right off your rosy cheeks.
You had watched in awe as he had dropped his nerf-hide holsters first, unbuckling his guns from around his narrow hips. They fell to the floor at both your feet before his belt came off – that’s when you found yourself spun around, bent over, and your thick ass revealed in all its glory from beneath your ballgown – your thong hid nothing, the Duros’ eyes contracting as he whipped you forcefully enough to make you squeal like a Puffer Pig.
“Bane!! No!” Your flesh jiggled with every hit, your pliant, shapely rump – so soft - creating a minuscule wave with each stroke of Cad Bane’s leather belt.
“Ss’what ya' get fer lettin’ dhat scoundrel put his hands all ova' ye' like dhat – what Ah did ain’ good e’nough? So quick t’find someone else t’pout dhose lips aht?”
“I didn’t know! You’d! Care! I thought you - didn’t - like to dance!” you chirped, exuding noises that both resembled a moan and a mild complaint. “Too hard!”
“Naht hard e’nough, ye' fizgig!”
“What’s that mean!?”
You were filthy, disgusting; his dick was plump and full of emerald blood; you felt it pushed up against your breasts. He was seething, nearly hissing his words out, though hating that he was so aroused.: “Means yer'a brat! Comparin’ me t’some damned Chiss - tryin’ t’make ah fool’a me!?”
You kicked your feet, bucking against him, then retorted with a whimper that made his ardor all the harder to suppress – instincts clawed at the surface – he wanted to sink his fangs into the ripeness that was your now red, round backside as you struggled like easy prey.
“Why don’t you use your hands at least?!” you pleaded in dismay.
“Oh, ye' want m’hands on’ye do ye'?” He dropped the belt; a single glove came off; he adjusted the calibration of his contact stunners. His palm came down full flush against your replete bottom; he had administered a shock.
The sound that came out your mouth was a cross between seductive and a mousy whine; it morphed and contorted until it was an echo of your lust.
“Oh, fuck …” you breathed out, followed by a laugh. “Do that again!”
“Fek, wo’man! Ye’ ain’ 'sposed t’enjoy dhis!” he snapped; he was determined you wouldn’t be able to walk in a straight line once he was through with you. He turned a dial, increased the power. Todo had been lingering in the corner and finally piped up to let you know he was still present, though it wouldn’t do you any good.
“Mister Bane, that could be dangerous!”
“Cahn’nit droid, no one asked ye’!”
“What’s he – Oh!! Ohh!”
Cad Bane had latched on to the narrow strip that was your thong; he tore through the single shred of fabric that guarded your body’s ass crack with his bare hands. Your undergarment fell away, pinned beneath you and Cad Bane’s hardened cock, though he had given you a full-frontal wedgie that made you cry out loud in shock.
“Hey! Watch it! That’s… delicate!”
“Dhat’s jus’ too damn bad!” His hand came in again and he let it linger; he sent another jolt of electricity all through your meaty, heart-shaped posterior. He wanted to bury his teeth into your supple skin but managed to refrain. He was afraid that would give you too much pleasure and he was hell bent on making you admit you were a tramp.
“Ye sorry ye' made fun'a me?”
“I didn’t know you were so sensitive!” Whap!
“Think it’s fun t’get on’m nerves?!”
“Well a little bit, yes, I – Ahhh!” Whap! Whap! Whap!
“Gonna admit ye' were actin’ like’a slut?”
“What?! I just thought-“ Whap! “AH!”
“I was just-” Whap!
“I think I love you…” you whispered to yourself.
“Wha’d ye' say?!” Whap!
“I said this doesn’t even hurt…!” It was the straw that broke the bantha’s back.
Bane growled again, lower, more sinister; something inside him snapped. His mind went blank before he spread your lower lips apart; they were soaking wet. You were so turned on and so was he, though that didn’t mean …
A single finger came in to fill you to the brim, each knuckle sliding in with ease, and you being forcibly impaled by the Duros’ agile digit. He electrified your insides but only just. It stimulated you in a way you had never felt before.
Your eyes rolled; you nearly screamed a high-pitched wail of pure unadulterated ecstasy. He felt your wetness increase as you cried to heaven; you had outright orgasmed – squirted of all things.
Your body went limp across his legs; he nearly panicked for an instant. Your breathing had been hard and heavy right before it dissipated. He turned you over, wiping his hand off on his leather chaps. He cradled you along your back and shoulders, his client who he was supposed to keep alive. If he’d killed you… he didn’t want to think about the consequence. Darth Vader would have his hide.
“Or’del...” He used your surname he had learned from his employer, a rare look of slight concern across his weathered face. You gazed at him, depleted of your energy and all the fight that you had in you, but you thought to make one last request.
Your hand came up; you cupped Cad’s cheek. It felt too intimate for him, yet he let it be. You whispered so softly he would have to strain to hear you; his head dipped down to make it easier.
“Bane…”
“Sspit it out, girlie – didn’ mean te… Are ye' …?”
“That’s never happened before… I … I…”
“Take it sslow…”
“I want… need… I need…”
“What is it, Or'del? T’ell me.”
“Fuck me. Fuck me, right now.”
“What?!”
“Just. Fuck. Me. Just fuck me already!!”
“No!”
“Please?!”
He hissed at you before another rumble issued from his larynx - his breathing apparatus housed inside his throat – he lifted you up just enough to sink his teeth into your tender neck out of downright karkin’ aggravation. He nipped once, then in another place just adjacent, all around the skin left exposed that wasn’t covered by your lowcut, fancy dress.
You cried out, somewhat enjoying it, but already so frazzled, so worn out and expended that you couldn’t fight him, and though his species way of doing things had invaded his mind for just a moment, he calmed down enough from his irritation to ask you something. “Done actin’ like’a fool?”
“I wasn't - I thought you said you didn't bite!"
"Ah lied!"
"I can see that!"
He nipped at you again; your eyebrows knitted; he had drawn a trickle of your warm red blood. “Gonna admit yer wrong?”
“Going to admit you were jealous of Admiral Thrawn!?”
He snapped again with those fearsome teeth; he shredded the strap to the right side of your dress. He spit it out and off to the side, one of your tender and tasty breasts revealed.
“Hey! – Mmn… This dress is worth more than what Vader’s paying you!”
“Shoulda thought o’dhat!”
Cad Bane didn’t waste any time; he lashed out, cinching your nipple between his fangs. He was careful not to bite it off, but that was about the only thing he was careful of. He had drawn more blood, sucking and pumping your life-giving fluid into his gaping maw.
Your arm slowly lifted; you rested your wrist against your forehead; you spoke softly to your faithful comm between your licentious gasping.
“Entry …3… Duros … hisssss, and bite when agitated… and it …it…” you could barely catch your breath, little mewls being recorded right along with your new field notes.
“Had e’nough yet?” Bane had “come up for air,” grabbing you by your dainty hand – his was twice the size. He pinned it against his chest; he wouldn’t allow you to continue making that infernal racket.
“N-never …” You weren’t sure but you thought you might of, however you just loved every part of him that he was willing to offer you, even if that meant you’d suffer scars. No pain, no gain…
He growled louder than you had ever heard him up until this point; he bowed down low to perhaps end your measly life. You had a different thought then, somewhat put-off, even though you were horny as all get out. “Wait!! Yes, yes! I’m… I’m sorry.”
He retracted, sitting upright, a devious glint of a smirk forming at the corner of his hairline lips. He was satisfied he had made you apologize though he asked for confirmation in addition. “And?”
“And …?”
He frowned; he furrowed both ridges of his brow. His free hand came in; he cupped your sex beneath your ballgown. It was still pulled up and your thong was gone. He massaged his fingers into your already wet mound. You nearly came again that very moment before you belted out: “And I was acting like a slut!!”
He pulled away and left you pining; you still wanted it but your body felt so tired. You produced another whine, one that made his cock thresh. “Dhat wasn’ sso hard now, was it?”
“Bane …is she all right?” The service droid had hidden himself behind the automated door left open, peeking around the corner. His little metal fingers were gripped about the edge; he was afraid that you were dying or near to dead - it wouldn’t serve his master to murder such an important client.
“She’ll live,” was all he said.
---
You had passed out, sleeping through the trip back to your abode. You had no idea how you got there as your eyes fluttered open. Cad Bane had carried you back inside your penthouse; he had walked in through the balcony, the same way you had been picked up earlier that evening though he wasn't much impressed by your lavish home. You were obviously spoiled, had too much sass, but you were smart; sexy, and perchance had a naughty streak – an uncommon mix.
The Justifier hovered outside your window; he tipped his hat to you then made to exit but you leapt forward, tugging him backward towards the bed you sat upon by the edge of his heavy coat. You pleaded with him not to leave you there alone. “Please, wait! I’m … I’m … scared… What if someone else tries to kill me?”
“Cahn see why dhey might wanna, considerin’ ye don’ know when’ta shut dhat big mouth’o yers…”
“Don’t go …”
“’Fraid we’re done here, lil' lady.” He turned on you again; you started crying. It was so very uncharacteristic of yourself.
He paused, rounding on you; he crossed his arms along his rail thin chest. He sneered at you; he hated tears, though he felt a little tug of something as he shook his head and sighed.
You inched your fingers along your silky thighs then hiked your dress up; you brought two digits in to gently massage your clit. You were groaning, your appetite for Bane insatiable, and the Duros becoming flustered as his dick righted to attention once again.
“Girlie, no!” He bent over you, slapping your hand away; he grabbed you by the face. Your tongue snaked out, licking his fingers that held you tight. He squeezed your mouth shut, though you had already reached out for his cock - you had swiped and missed by just an inch.
Cad Bane was beyond exasperated though your display of odd emotions on top of your heightened sex appeal, your delicious smell, was nearly driving him insane. His instincts left over from his species evolution made him want to mount you, stuff you full, and sink his teeth right into you; mark every inch of your sweet and salty flesh. Human women were his fetish.
“FIERFEK, wo’man!!” You began to knead your luscious tits with your open palm, Cad Bane swooping down to bite your throat again; two of his fingers sank deep inside of you, curling, pressing, caressing that special place.
“Ten-thousand cr-credits…” you sighed out, writhing, groping your own breast. He lifted his head, fangs stained with your own blood as he halfway cocked his brow.
“A day – Ten-thousand credits a day just to be on call.” You had remembered your idea from before.
“What are ya-”
“No, Twenty-five thousand credits.. a day…”
His movements paused; you whined; he returned to his careful inside strokes. His thumb joined in, though positioned rightfully against the little nub of nerve-endings that was begging for attention.
“Fuck… I … Two-hundred thousand credits if you have to so much as lift a- a- a finger!” You came again, all over his cobalt digits. You wanted to service him but he had already withdrawn from you, standing up, then eyeing you with suspicion, not knowing your true meaning.
“Yer naht makin’ sense, lil’ lady – Ah ain’ no-” He couldn’t even say it; to think it was ridiculous. You were ridiculous… but so sexy, and soft… edible… warm … fertile… and those… pouty …
You gazed up; you licked your ruby lips, righted yourself, then adjusted your falling hairstyle. You smirked, satisfied, then clarified. “I want to hire you, bounty hunter, to be my bodyguard."
38 notes
·
View notes