by T C
His awareness sank into the Apostate warrior's weapon, tracing the unfamiliar power systems.
"Or... do you have feelings for her?" The Baronet laughed in a parody of scandalized shock. "I assure you I have as well. Upon several occasions." His lips traced Kaydia's ear as he reached out with psionics to trigger the SIN for just an instant. "She screamed for me then, too."
There. He found what he was looking for.
"Bah. A coward. You Justiciar have never-WHAT?"
Calling o his psionics, Quentin disconnected the power coupling. Instantly, the Baronet's plasma blade deactivated. Justiciar reflexes drove his blade over Kaydia's shoulder, sending the Baronet recoiling backwards in a graceful scramble that barely saved his life. "Can you walk?" Quentin asked, catching Kaydia as she stumbled forward on her wounded leg.
There was a snap-hiss. He looked up to see the Baronet holding a second, shorter-bladed plasma blade in his left hand. "Oh, very well played. I feared you would bore me."
"More importantly," Quentin murmured, "can you run?”
She nodded, and squeezed his arm. “Don’t die. And don’t let him capture you.”
Kaydia hurled herself down the stairs, her final words echoing behind her. Quentin didn't reply. Instead he lunged forward with his plasma blade, grunting a little as it was intercepted by the crimson shoto. "Dear me," the Baronet smiled, "have I touched a nerve? Could it be..." He spun, knocking Quentin's blade out of true and slashing forward. "Do you have feelings for her?"
"Shut. Up." Already he was feeling the strain. Quentin knew he was skilled with a plasma blade, but like most Justiciar he wasn't accustomed to actual plasma blade duels with enemies. Non-psions used them, from time to time, but they were a rarity outside the Order.
"Oh, you do!" Delight filled the Baronet's voice and expression. "Why, this is remarkable! A Justiciar, and a whore!"
For an instant rage clouded Quentin's thoughts. "She's not a whore!" he bellowed, hammering at the Apostate with his plasma blade.
"My apologies," the Baronet mocked, easily parrying the wild, heavy blows. "Courtesan, then? Escort? What should I call her?"
"Nothing!" Quentin snapped, chopping with two-handed blows. "You don't-"
"Because I certainly paid enough to have her," the Baronet continued, taunting. "And she was worth every credit." He continued to parry, moving slowly in a circle as he did. "Tell me, as one man if the galaxy to another, did she let you burn her? Because she would beg me, and with a single touch if the blade it was as if I'd mounted a wild animal."
Face contorted with rage, Quentin forced himself to draw back. The Apostate was goading him, luring him deeper into the darkness. Further from his training, and deeper into the web of a Apostate's power. Shuddering, he drew a deep breath and sought control.
"Oh, and the needles!" The Baronet laughed. "She craved the feeling of the needles as foreplay. And as an adjunct to orgasm!"
He let the words flow through him. A Justiciar is not ruled by his emotions.
"And once - as a special treat for me - she serviced a dozen men!" He laughed at that. "I rarely feel inadequate, but that... wait!"
Spinning, Quentin ran the length if the hall. He could hear the Apostate pursuing, and shut it out. Either he would make it or he wouldn't. Try not. Do, or do not. Then the window was before him, exploding into the night sky as he reached out with the Psionics. He followed the glass shards an instant later, hurling himself from the 22nd floor of the hotel.
***
The Baronet watched the Justiciar twist in midair, and land gracefully in a speeder that rise to meet him. No need to ask who was driving it, of course. It would be the doubly-treacherous assassin Scarlet. He could have made the leap as well, of course, and slaughtered them. But where would be the style in that?
Smiling faintly, he lifted his plasma dagger in a salute and extinguished the blade. "At last," he whispered, "a worthy challenge."
Escape
Quentin hardly had a chance to sit before she pulled the speeder out, hurdling in no direction in particular, just away.
“Where am I going?” She asked, once they were far enough away she was pretty sure Aldane couldn’t reach them, “Where is the Scrapper?”
Quentin crashed into the seat of the speeder, drawing upon the Psionics to cushion the impact. As Kaydia shoved the accelerator forward he glanced upwards, expecting the Apostate to descend like a cloaked figure of death. But there was nothing, no sign of the man. He allowed himself to relax, fractionally, drawing a deep breath and then gritting his teeth against the pain of his cracked ribs. "The Scrapper? Main starport, bay 3378." He hesitated. "Should be, anyway. Harlan Kwan-Don came here with the Finance Ministry delegation, so I'm hoping the ship was delivered correctly."
He watched with eyes and with more acute senses for signs of pursuit. There were none, none that he could perceive at least, and they made good time. Soon enough, they were parked outside the fusion formed walls of bay 3378. Which is when Kaydia's resolve finally broke. She gripped her wounded leg and made a low, animal sound of pain.
"Hang on," Quentin told her, lifting her into his arms. "Almost there."
“Don't,” She argued as his hands came around to lift her up, “You shouldn't push yourself, I nearly shattered your knee.” But even as she protested, her arms went around his neck, and her head against his chest.
He carried her into the bay and across to the familiar bulk of his ship, lending her some of his own strength through the Psionics. The taste of her burning leg and aching need for Inertia mingled with his own grating rib to make each step agony, and it was a glorious relief to finally lay her down on the bunk in his spartan quarters.
"This'll help," he assured her, grabbing a medkit and injecting a quick hit of broad-spectrum antibiotic and local anesthetic into her calf. Then, carefully, he cut away the blood-soaked cloth from around the wound. "I've got a panacea wrap that'll start you healing nicely. "
"I need you," Kaydia had demanded, dragging him down and kissing him with an intense hunger. And he'd returned that hunger, kissing her back with a desperate intensity fueled by the fights and the escape and the discovery that she was alive when he'd given her up for dead. When the kiss finally broke, a mutual decision driven only by their desperate need to breathe, he lingered above her face and planted feathery kisses.
"I need you, too," he whispered, love and longing in his voice. "But you need rest." It didn't stop him from kissing her again, didn't stop his tongue from parting her lips or his hands from carefully exploring her body. He gasped as he broke the kiss, and it was an act of will to draw back and sit. But he did it, and he sat and held her hand and talked gently of inconsequential things until she finally fell asleep. And then he held her hand a while longer, content to watch her breathe and lend her his strength until her thoughts settled and nascent nightmares faded into restful slumber. Only then, reluctantly, did he rise.
His first stop was the little galley, where he poured himself a large glass of water and heated a protein-heavy meal pack. Carrying the food and a data slate, he moved into the cockpit, settling down in the pilot's seat and getting to work. The events of the past few hours certainly proved he was on the right track with his investigations, but he was no closer to finding the center of this conspiracy. This "Baronet Aldane" was another The Dissident. An agent. A killer, yes, and skilled in the Dark Side. But not the Apostate Lord at the center of the web.
Hours passed as he wrote up what he'd learned and what he theorized. Finally, encrypting what he had, he transmitted his files hidden in a mundane-looking message. It would take a circuitous route through the holonet before arriving in a data archive at the Justiciar Temples on Cephoria and Dantooine and Apasia, where another Shadow would recover them in good time. Then he stared through the canopy at the blast walls of the bay, and meditated.
The emotions disturbed him before the footsteps did. Lust. Love. Longing. Need. Followed by currents of displaced air and the soft padding of bare fe
et on the deck. Not a stealthy walk, precisely. Just the habit of one accustomed to moving quietly. He turned to find Kaydia in the entrance, wearing one of his white shirts like a scandalously short dress.
“Hey,” she called softly, as his eyes fell upon her. She stood in the doorway of the cockpit, smiling warmly, genuinely, for the first time in many months. “I hope you don’t mind I borrow a shirt…”
He reached out, catching her wrists and pulling her down into the acceleration chair with him. His hands fisted in her hair as he kissed her, then explored her back as he deepened the kiss. "I need you," he groaned, nipping at her throat and kissing her again. On hand cupped her bare ass, pressing her against his rock-hard length as the other tangled in her hair once more. "Now."
His response was to pull her onto his lap, kissing without a moment’s hesitation. She moaned as his hand traveled along her body, her own hands cupping his face as the kiss lingered. Sliding down his neck as he broke away to nip at her neck, her fingers worked at the zipper of his jump suit, pulling it open with barely restrained longing. Fingered followed in after, groping at the tight musculature of his physique until they ran up his chest and over his shoulders, shifting his jump skin to give her greater access to his skin.
She moved slowly at first, letting his hardness caress her inner flesh as she unbuttoned his shirt. Letting fall open even as it hung on her shoulders, leaving her as exposed to him as he was to her. Soon, her slow, languorous stroke weren’t enough, as she felt his craving for more fluid friction, his need for her to glide along his entire length. She rose up higher, arching back rubbing the harden buds of her nipples against his chest.
“You told me wanted to fuck me until I forgot my name, once,” she reminded him, gasping as he was hilted within her once more. “I am going to hold you to that. Fuck me until I forget I was ever Scarlet.”
Quentin's hand fisted in her red hair as he plundered her mouth, then tugged gently as he bit at her throat and breasts. "A Justiciar keeps his promises," he moaned into her skin, lost for a moment in the sensation of her slick walls and the sweet friction they made on his meat. Teeth scraped the hardened bud of her nipple and he did his best to fuck up into her. It was awkward at this angle, but he supplemented by using a hand on her ass to help set the pace.
Spinning the antiacceleration chair, he leaned her back against the instrument console. "Look up," he ordered, shifting his grip so that both hands were on her hips. Above them was the transparent dome of the canopy and the morning sky. He licked his lips, his cock slipping backwards until merely his head parted her, before flexing his arms and driving himself deep into her greedy depths once more. "Anyone could see us, Kaydia," he murmured as his meat drove into her like a piston. "Anyone could look down from those walls, see me buried balls deep in you."
He leaned forward, kissing her deeply as he maintained the rhythm of his thrusts, and his throaty moan was a counterpoint to the wet sounds of flesh in flesh. "You like that thought, don't you?" He pulled her hips tight against him, shifting their angle so his cock slid against her clit with each thrust. "I do. "
His mouth found her breasts, sucking one nipple then the other. "I should have fucked you in that elevator," he gasped. "In front of everyone. Let them all see how much I love you." His eyes rolled back as he pulsed within her depths. "Cum for me, Kaydia. Here, where anyone can see."
***
Spinning the chair, pushing her back against the console, Quentin took charge, while never leaving her heated depths. Above them she could see the open spaceport, too early in the morning to be bustling with life, but there were people present. His words drew a shudder from her lips, followed by a low moan as he fucked her hard and deep, feeling her body respond to his touch, to his momentum. She could see it, someone watching them, watching as he fucked her senseless, watching as she threw her head back in nirvana. Her cries grew louder, more animalistic, as if summoning an audience. She did want people to see him fuck her, see the bliss in her eyes as he drove into her slick core, see her fair skin flush from the passion of their embrace. She wanted everyone to know she was his, and only his.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, she moved against him, creating more moist rubbing between them, greater pressure against her clit. “Should I scream?” she cried, nearly screaming already. “Should I cause a commotion, and gather a crowd.” She looked down the length of her body, over her breasts bouncing wildly to the point where they were joined. Seeing his meat stroke in and out of her, glistening with her juices, had her hotter, her cries echoing through the cockpit. But then he blocked her view with tongue and teeth teasing her breasts, and she was crying even louder.
"I should have fucked you in that elevator," he gasped. "In front of everyone. Let them all see how much I love you."
Her response were ecstatic howls, remembering the fantasy that had been interrupted by the assassins, remembering the orgasm that she had failed to reach. “I would have blown your cover,” She rasped, thighs rubbing against his thighs and hips, “I would have screamed Quentin so loud no one there would have misheard it.” She pushed herself up, wrapping arms around his neck as rapture drew closer Brushing lips against his ears, she whispered, “…like this.”
“QUENTIN!” His name filled the cockpit, the ship, docking bay. It filled her chest, and throat and mouth and mind. There was no doubt it would draw someone’s attention, and imagining someone watching them drove Kaydia to new heights, fucking herself on Quentin’s cock as her climax subsided.
***
"My cover's blown anyway, so it would’ve been worth it," he gasped, meeting her thrusts with his own. Her body suddenly arched beneath him, clamping down on his meat as his name echoed off the canopy. He kept at it, driving himself into her dripping, spasming cunt until she sagged back on the console. For a moment be stood, motionless within her, watching her sweat-slick body heave as she gasped for breath.
"You weren't loud enough," he told her, hands exploring her bare, heated flesh. "The ship is sealed. Sound doesn't propagate well through a starship hull. So we'll have to do something about that."
His cock was chill as he pulled it from her blood-warm depths. With a sudden motion he rolled her over, flattening her breasts and stomach against the controls as he did. "Look up," he murmured, his wet cock sliding against her buttocks as he tugged her hair. "Think they can see us? Think they saw you cumming hard on my cock?" He leaned against her, his weight pressing her flesh into the instruments and his cock into the cleft between her cheeks. "Think they're jealous, watching how good a fuck you are? Should we make them jealous?"
His hands slid down her spine as he rose up. "I'm already slick with your cum, Kaydia. And you still remember your name." His blunt, slick head pressed against the tight muscled ring of her ass. "You lubed me up, Kaydia. And when I promised to fuck you till you couldn’t remember your name, I promised to fuck you every way I can."
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pushed forward until her ass squeezed tightly around his head. "Every way, Kaydia. But only if you want it."
***
Her throat was raw as he spoke, reminding she wasn’t being nearly loud enough. She wonder have argued, if she could have caught her breath but he turned her over before she could, oophing as her breasts flatten against the console, slick with her sweat. A tug at her hair lifted her head, upwards seeing people walking along the upper level Some were looking, but at them or at the ships, it was hard to tell. Still, Quentin fed her lust, sweat slick skin on her own.
"Think they're jealous, watching how good a fuck you are? Should we make them jealous?"
“Yes,” she managed, her voice hoarse. Followed by a breathy gasp, as he pushed himself against her ass, until her body accepted him, inch by inch. “Quentin…” she exhaled, feeling him move in time with her breaths, feeling her body swallow his length in a slow, rhythmic manner. “I want you to have every inch of me. I want to give you every inch of me. Lay claim to me, love. Mark me as yours.” She pushed herself up
as he filled her, stretched her, took her slowly, yet forcefully.
Her body molded itself around him, gasping with each potent pulse of blood to his cock. She pressed her back against his chest, her cheek against his lips. Her hands found his, bring one over to grope and caress her breast and the other between her thighs. She fingered herself over his hand, letting him feel her gushing desire, letting him feel her fingers along his cock through the thin membrane.
***
Clearly, she did want it. The clue was the way she pushed herself up, taking his cock deeper into her ass as she did. And the way she leaned back into his body, urging him to cup her breasts and finger her cunt as she did. "Love me Quentin," she moaned, moving with him as he carefully thrust into her ass. "Love every part of me."
Her fingers joined his in filling her slit, and he felt them brush and stroke his cock as they plunged deep into her dripping channel. She fell back against the console, writhing on their fingers and back against his thick meat as he stretched and filled her. His every thrust brought a sharp cry, one he recognized as pleasure from her reflection in the canopy and the emotions and sensations bleeding from her mind into his.
She was a glorious, erotic vision. Lips parted and eyes half-closed, little sharp pants escaping her as her body moved with his deep thrusts. Her long red hair spilling across the console and down the creamy curve of her back. Her round ass in the air, moving back against his shaft as he pounded into her. "I'm close, Kaydia," he gasped. "So... fucking... close..."
Her response was to press her finger and his deeper into her walls, finger-fucking herself in time with the motion of his meat in her ass. "Do... should I..." But it was no longer a question of "should" as his control finally broke. With a loud cry he sheathed himself, rooting himself in her ass as his balls tightened and hot, sticky cum flooded her depths. He pulsed within her, cock moving as he thrust into her in his pleasure until he was finally spent.
"Sorry," he murmured against her back as he sagged against her, his own sweat creating a slippery film between their skin. "I really wanted to, to last longer." His lips were soft against the nape of her neck, and his softening cock pulsed gently within her. "For you."
