Swtor: a Smuggler Not a Patriot 07

SWTOR: A Smuggler, Not A Patriot: Prologue:

Green Skinned Soldier Babe

Inspired by the new Bioware MMO set in the Star Wars universe. I own none of the characters, obviously.

The Officer's Club had obviously been a high end lounge before the war. Now commandeered by the Republic Military, Sulmad was only very minorly more comfortable than he would have been in a bar filled with the rich and powerful of Ord Mantel. None of that showed on his face and he certainly wasn't fool enough to even look at his blaster, so surrounded by scary-as-fuck troopers.

The scariest of whom waved him into a booth and took a seat behind him. The Mirialan's green skin clashed horribly with the purple and red décor and her skinny frame looked like it was moments from folding in on itself. Sulmad knew how much that impression was bullshit. She'd ambushed him, taken his weapon like it was nothing and withstood his counterattack with no difficulty, or bruises, unlike himself. Indeed, the small (or not so small) part of him that wasn't busy calculating survival odds (and sex odds, always sex odds) was wondering which of his female acquaintances on this rock would be willing to rub his bruises...

"All right, captain, I'm suitably impressed by your strength, your influence and I'm embarrassed enough to be malleable. Can we get down to business now?" Sulmad asked, pressing back against the feeling of powerlessness with his usual sarcasm.

A green finger pressed a button and a transparent privacy screen snapped up. Transparent on their side. To the onlookers it was impossible to see, or hear through and for both groups it was impossible to transmit through. "I do apologize if I've embarrassed you with my observation of your little...tryst with the tech. It was certainly not my intention."

"It certainly was. But in that you failed. I'm embarrassed that you snuck up on me and took me down so easily, not that you were voyeuristically spying on me and Celestra fucking." Sulmad explained.

"I am Havoc Squad's infiltration expert."

"How nice for you. I am the captain of a hijacked ship, who is about to have a price on his head larger than the gross planetary product of most fringe worlds, so can we get down to the reason I'm here and not out hunting for Skavak or enjoying another in my endless string of last screws?" Sulmad asked.

"I think that you may be of some use in my mission here. You have connections to the local underworld. Especially if someone was trying to move something off-world, you might hear about it." Wraith said obliquely, both hands vanishing under the table. One appeared just above Sulmad's knee, the other was somewhere else, probably on a weapon.

"If I wanted to hear about it." Sulmad agreed, keeping his voice even and his hands on top of the table.

"The Separatists have something, a stolen something, that the Republic wants back. That I want to get back for them." Her hand slid up his thigh, stopping at his cock and squeezing hard enough that he felt it even through the armor plated pants.

"I'm always eager to help my friends in the Republic. Does this item have any characteristics that might help me find it?" He asked, bringing one arm around her thin shoulders and hugging her close to his side as nimble fingers freed his prick from its armored shell.

"About five meters high, three across, more than ten tons, oh, and leaking radiation like a broken hyperdrive engine." Wraith whispered in his ear, as if they were sweet nothings. Her hand jacked him off under the table with all the grace of the dancer she appeared to the unknowing eye to be.

"Radiation..." Sulmad leaned back enjoying the handjob. "Nothing leaps to mind." Her hand tightened somewhat menacingly and he hurried onward. "But any captain worth their pay will take precautions for a load like that. I know who would be talked to about that sort of thing. I can make some inquiries."

"And what would you like in return for that service?" She asked, white teeth coming to a stop around his ear lobe, though her hand never stopped.

"I think we both know that you aren't that interested in me." Her hand stopped for a moment. "It was Celestra who got you hot and bothered." She started moving again, quickly, trying to silence his words with pleasure. "The point of this is to master the person who mastered her. I'm just a tool by which you get back at all the straight women who've ignored you over the years."

"I didn't even look at her—" Wraith began.

"You were not looking very loudly. You were watching everything in that room, except for her. Now, I know a few ladies who like ladies and who like power games as well. I'd be happy to make some introductions." Her hand was a blur and the sensation was making it hard to focus, hard to speak. "If you want."

A finger brought down the privacy screen just as she made him cum under the table. After his adventure with Celestra, it was more a dribble than waterfall, but it was enough to make her wipe her hand on a napkin. Sulmad let one hand tuck himself away and zip him back up, conscious that they were back in full view of the bar. "I want." She whispered, tucked into the crook of his arm.

"Good." He started to pull away.

"And what do you get out of this?" Wraith asked.

Sulmad kissed the lesbian firmly on the lips. "A Special Forces captain will owe me two favors. And," he leaned in close an whispered right back at her, "the pleasure of not being mastered." He concluded before swaggering out of the officers club under her suddenly appraising gaze.