The Captain and I

[Cerie Moreau]

STANZA 1

Something familiar,
Something peculiar,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!
Something appealing,
Something appalling,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!
Nothing with moffs, nothing with crowns;
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!





She stood at the threshold of the docking ring, leaning against the cold metal with a fair amount of trepidation turning her features into a somewhat sour expression. As if she had been sucking on a candied Sour Mynock Egg. From her peripheral vision, she saw Ben moving about. Shuvin was... wherever Shuvin was. No doubt getting ready to take Jovan Station over with the formidable arsenal of grabby hands, hormonal urges, and pick-up lines that would cause even the most seasoned spacers to mutter under their breath at how lewd she was.

As for Ben, he seemed about normal. He was at least giving her some space. After Junction, Cerie had been damn near a hermit about Alderaan. Which was no small feat to be sure. She stuck to herself, shut away in her small bunk and stewing.

Up until Junction, looking like Loklorien s'Ilancy had been easy enough with no real ramifications. Of course that was all different now. With that bendy, bad-breathed Selonian, the game had changed rather significantly.

And with Jovan being their stop, Cerie was hard-pressed to actually step foot onto the station at all. It was mostly Alliance-run, after all. And even if she didn't have some gnarly scar over one eye, she didn't just... didn't want to invite anything.

And so she stood, halfway leaning against the edge of the doorway that opened up into the umbilical. The umbilical that led right onto Jovan Station.

She had her pertinent documents on a flimsi in one hand, the other stuffed into the front pouch-pocket of an oversized, dark blue pullover. In truth it was Bens; she'd just 'borrowed it' since it had a hood and - well - it was damn comfortable. Soft and worm and cozy. Grey trousers and scuffed work boots completed her unkempt appearance. Even her hair had been pulled up into a shaggy half-bun that she'd stuck a few repulsor cam thread rods into to keep it up (they were extras and Shuvin had said she could have them anyway).

The hand in the pouch-pocket curled into a fist and she finally spoke to Ben.

"You ever been here when there's not a Cizerack sex festival going on?"

[Ben Merasska]

Ben glanced up at her from where he was sitting at the entrance to the ring corridor from the cargo bay, scrolling through a datapad. Cerie was glumly staring at the docking fin's ring, which was tightly shut since Shuvin and Loki had left earlier and hadn't opened once.

"Uh, no. Too many Alliance uniforms here to really be comfortable, even though that last visit wasn't a complete disaster. I wonder if we would have won that dance competition?"

He shook his head and cleared his thoughts.

"Still, we're here now. Was talking to Sarin on our way here, and he gave me the name of someone we may get some nice, regular, not dangerous work from. Hell, from the sounds of it we'd prolly just be makin' easy runs from Contruum and back. Said he'd call them and get back to us."

The chirp of the comm signal echoed through the ship, and Ben jumped up to get it, leaving Cerie at the top of the docking fin ramp in the cargo bay to be her 'jovial' self.

On the vid screen when he picked up was the smiling face of Marron Lighever.

"Hey kid," Ben said. "Didn't expect to hear back from you so quick."

"Well, normally I would be unable to help you, but it so happens that a contact of mine is currently on Jovan," the nineteen year old running a severely diminished Aether Hypernautics company responded. "Friend of the family, so to speak. I've contacted him and it turns out that he is in fact looking for a personal job to hire out discreetly. He's amenable to meeting, but wants a face to face."

Ben grimaced, and Marron laughed.

"Oh, don't be like that, Captain. I can vouch for him. He's a good sort, and he knows the value of a good smuggler and freighter. Not a business man, though."

"Fine, fine. Won't hurt to meet this stand-up guy of yours."

"I'll let him know, and forward to you anything else of importance."

Ben leaned back and sighed, wondering how he'd work this meeting, when the comm chirped again.

[Cerie Moreau]

One ping. Two pings. Three.

"You should get that, you know."

Her voice was deadpan, devoid of emotion. Far from her usual gabby and happy tone, Cerie couldn't help but step away from herself, hear the monotone of her own voice. Gods she was sounding like some morose Morrisai fangirl. All dark fringe and overdone eyeshadow and sad songs.

She turned to look at Ben fully then, and with a deliberate motion, pulled her free hand out to flick the hood up over her head.

"And it better be good news."

[Ben Merasska]

Ben blinked, a little nonplussed at Cerie's attitude.

"I... I guess I'll take this one in the cockpit then," he said. Cerie didn't move, and he sighed, shaking his head and walking out of the cargo bay.

Five minutes later, Ben returned looking nervous. Well, more nervous than usual.

"Okay! Well, I have some good news!"

Cerie turned to look at him, a look of such humourlessness on her face that he almost walked right back out.

"W-w-we have work," he said. "And options for it too. All we have to do is meet with the client. And by 'we', I mean you. And by 'have to', I mean please will you go to meet this client and see if we can get him to give us money to move things for him? Please? Pretty please?"

[Cerie Moreau]

Typical Ben.

Making a supremely unimpressed face, Cerie finally pushed away from the threshold to stand upright. The flimsi she was holding was unceremoniously stuffed into the pocket-pouch, and both arms lifted to cross over her chest.

"What do you... "

The pause that lingered between them was tangible. Alive. Viscous. Like, you could cut it with a dull knife that'd been sitting in the cooler unit for over a week.

You know what? She would. She would meet this client. And she would make sure that whatever needs there were, they would be met. After all was said and done, she was bound and determined to at least pull whatever weight that she could in order to make sure the credits came in.

"Fine."

A hand came up then, and a pointer finger shot up and over to point at Ben.

"But. I'm going to go find a bar first and have a drink."

It didn't have to be said, that she was hoping to wash away the memory of the stench of that Selonian's breath.

[Ben Merasska]

"Well, yeah, about that... um, apparently the client wants to meet at some high class place."

Ben wilted a bit under Cerie's stare.

"...W-with a dress code?"

Cerie started growling. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his mouth went dry. He handed over a flimsi, his hands shaking in fear.

"H-h-here. Just—just take it. It's got all the info on it, yipe!"

[Cerie Moreau]

A dress code?!

She snatched the flimsi from him, let out a long sigh, and pursed her lips without really glancing at the info. Her thought processes seemed to slow then, and she couldn't help the germ of a thought to form. Maybe it would be nice to actually feel like less of a bunk-slug for an evening? It wasn't entirely a bad thought, and it grew on her. Enough so, that she turned on her heel, and headed back into the ship proper.

"Here, you hold on to this for now," she said, handing him the flimsi once more. her now free hand lifted to give him a clipped pat to his shoulder.

"Give me thirty minutes."




Thirty Minutes Later...


The sonic shower had been refreshing, and did well to pull her out of her previous funk. There was something to be said for wallowing in regret with little effort given to one's outward appearance and marginal hygiene, but there was also something to be said for getting back into the schedule that was comforting. A sonic shower made slightly longer than normal due to the necessary act of shaving her legs, a good tooth-scrubbing, and finally standing in the fresher for a few quiet minutes to enjoy that naked, squeaky-clean feeling. That was when her hair was given a little brushing to undo any leftover tangles, and the basics of self-care were seen to.

She had brought her chosen clothes into the fresher with her, and it wasn't long before the slim-fitting deep blue dress was pulled on. It hugged her curves, stopping just above her knees. The nice thing about having to keep makeup for impersonating your doppelganger was that she had just enough to make a passable go at refining her features. Nothing drastic, but more to slightly enhance.

Her hair had been put up in a much more refined version of her mess-bun from before, and rather than the spare parts that had been shoved in, she carefully slid in a set of hand-carved Ithorian foodsticks.

Satisfied with the woman that stared back at her from the mirror, Cerie grabbed the necklace that she'd picked out and a pair of matching earrings. The back of her dress remained only halfway zipped however, as she would need help to get it the rest of the way.

"Ok," she approached Ben once more, a far cry from the morose pity-slug from before.

Now she looked almost high society. Heels, a dress that accentuated her form, blonde hair up with not a strand out of place, and currently in the process of pushing in the small gemstone drop earrings.

"... I need a zip-up," came her murmured request as she slowed to a stop in front of him, then turned around smartly to present him with what she needed him to finish.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben had clearly not been idle in the meantime; he'd shaved his face and stubble to a smaller if still noticeable mustache and wore one of his less worn and faded jackets along with clean(er) clothing.

When Cerie entered the cargo bay, he choked and stared at her in shock, almost as if seeing her for the first time.

"Okay," she said, and he nodded absently, still staring at her. "...I need a zip up."

He didn't move, save for his eyes slowly drifting down to the zipper in seeming fascinated horror. She glanced back at him, a sharp edge back in the blue of her eyes. He garbled out a sound that might have been a word, and tentatively reached out to grab the zipper, almost exaggeratedly trying to keep from actually touching Cerie. He zipped up, slipping a few times and pulling his hands away like lightning on each occasion.

Finally though, he had the offending zipper nearly to the top, and when the damn thing finally reached the end and there was nothing left, it came off. He was left with the dangly thing that he'd held onto, and glanced down at the now slightly broken zipper thing in horror. Cerie, for her part, seemed to be unaware as she shifted and smoothed the now 'secured' dress.

"Done?" she asked, turning around.

Ben's hands flew behind him, hiding the evidence of his transgression.

"Uh, yeah!" he said, nodding quickly, before realizing that perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick. He swallowed and visibly calmed himself, nodding in faux certainty. "Yes. Yes, I'm done. You're done. It's done."

[Cerie Moreau]

STANZA 2

Old situations,
New complications,
Nothing portentous or polite;
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!
Something convulsive,
Something repulsive,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!
Something aesthetic,
Something frenetic,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!
Nothing with gods, nothing with fate;
Weighty affairs will just have to wait!




She'd only really skimmed the flimsi before setting off, but she'd at least seen where she was supposed to meet this new client. Breezing through customs, Cerie made her way into Jovan proper, allowing herself an air of nonchalance as she walked.

Past milling groups of beings, she fairly breezed her way into one of the more scenic atriums towards the center of the station. Topiaries, flowering shrubs, and even a few white-barked Kaai'amarra trees from Fey'Dann in ornate pottery that almost looked as though they'd come from ancient Cizeri temples. Banners hung high above, with emblems of the Alliance, the Pride, and a few other governments that had come to reside on Jovan in the hopes of coming together in peace. Or at least the best approximation of peace that they could negotiate. Tables dotted the landscape here and there, as well as a few sets of sofas and chairs for more comfortable relaxation.

The blonde moved by a male Cizerack who was studiously tending to one of the Kaai'amarra trees, pruning small bits off and placing the trimmings in a synth-hide back at his side. He was so engrossed in his task that he completely ignored her.

One of the only other things she had remembered after her less-than-quick lookover of the flimsi was that the client would be smartly dressed and waiting at one of the viewing windows that overlooked the lower portion of Spire 1.

It didn't take long to spot him, and Cerie kept her gait smooth and steady as she approached.

And then it dawned on her... in her rush to bring herself out of her self-pity, she'd completely missed exactly what it was the client was wanting.

It was that sudden thought that drew her up, and she slowed to a stop, still a good fifteen feet away from him.

[Vance Felline]

He was leaning against the balustrade, deep in thought, and his eyes focussed on the transparisteel pane across from him.

The pose, the clothing, the location; it was maddeningly different from his usual and he'd daresay his preferred modes. And what did it mean that he was uncomfortable in a civilian's clothing, he was in fact partially afraid to consider, but without the distraction of his ship or his crew or anything really, all he was left with was the view of the stars.

Unsurprisingly, he did find himself somewhat relieved upon a short time of stargazing.


But here he was, about to discuss business of all things with a representative of a freighter. This was not his duty, to play at corporate and economic espionage (and he knew he was being hyperbolic at that thought, but the principle remained). He was a Starfleet man, meant to wear the uniform and the rank bars and to travel the galaxy and fulfil his oath of duty to the Empress, not to wear a buffed hide jacket and a white tunic, nor to wear some fashionable trousers like some sort of wealthy scion playing at being a vagabond.

He glanced down at his chronometer in frustration and looked around, only to have his eyes arrested by the blonde woma— what was Captain s'Ilancy doing here? His hand, almost instinctively, twitched to his side where there should have been a pistol, at the very least his trusted RK-3, but he stayed the gesture nearly at its birth. He was on her territory here, and no weapons were permitted.

With nothing to do but look, he forced himself to remain relaxed, and looked.

His brows creased slightly.

[Cerie Moreau]

He was staring at her. Then again, she was staring at him as well, trying to parse what this encounter was supposed to be about.

There was also a familiar glint of recognition in his eyes, and it caused her to start forward once more, disappearing the remaining distance between them. She'd seen that look plenty of times, but unlike so many times before, when her normal disguise was meant to better her credit situations, she aimed to dispel the initial thoughts. His creased brow though seemed to indicate that he was second-guessing his first assessment.

She decided to help him along further.

"I still have both my eyes," she started with, giving a little tap at her right cheekbone, just below her eye.

[Vance Felline]

So she did, he noted.

He was not so practised as to be able to tell whether the eye was cybernetic, not from this distance. But it was other things that really eased him about her: her stance, the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot, the nervous way she blinked and looked down for a moment before almost angrily raising her eyes to meet his own, how her fists and fingers seemed to nervously move, as if to clutch at some invisible thing for comfort. Any of those separately, or even a small collaboration of such effects to one's mien would be enough to make him believe that it could have been s'Ilancy, though the very thought was so strange and ridiculous he couldn't even entertain it for longer than a moment.

Why on earth would Captain Loklorien s'Ilancy disguise herself to meet with someone about freighting? As the freighting representative?

Wait.

"Ah, yes. Well, forgive me miss, but I must ask you a question," he began keeping his eyes on hers. "Whom are you representing?"

[Cerie Moreau]

Having nothing better to do with her hands (she should've brought her clutch purse), Cerie folded her hands together in front of her.

"Captain Merasska of Alderaan," was the simple answer.

She met his eyes with ease, then let her gaze study his features, his stance, finger twitches, the way he seemed to enunciate every word with practiced precision. He spoke like someone that was most certainly not from the same background as herself, and as such, almost like a kolo clawfish out of water. And... it was actually kind of... adorable.

She flashed a smile as she couldn't help but allow her inner monologue to have a bit of fun.

Merasska Freight: We care about your load. Merasska Freight: We don't want to die! Merasska Freight: A full service company. Full. Service.

[Vance Felline]

Well, that was it then. Lighever was a good sort,and the thought of the boy contacting a Reb—Alliance Starfleet Captain over something like this was so completely beyond the pale that Felline relaxed.

Almost word for word, too. Captain Merasska of Alderaan.

"...Vance Felline," he said, smiling in return. He offered her his arm. "While a spot with a spectacular view, I daresay it's a bit exposed for my tastes. Shall we continue on? I've reserved a table at a small establishment nearby, where we can talk business with a bit more comfort and some food and drink."

[Cerie Moreau]

She took his arm gracefully, her smile only growing. He was certainly a gentleman, and at least she'd get a meal and a few drinks out of all this.

"Cerie Moreau. And a drink sounds wonderful."

And it really, really did. Her original plans of stewing in her own juices while nursing more than a few angry beers in some dive bar was suddenly now such a low bar. Now she was on her way to a seemingly enjoyable dinner with a not-unattractive man who was weirdly charming. He probably had some bizarre hobby that balanced out her initial assessment of him. Something like competitive nuna herding or going being big into the repulsorpunk scene and going to conventions.


* * *

The normal places that she was used to going usually had a variety of themed nerfburgers; some piled high with shaak bacon and dipping sauce, and others with fried nuna egg included. But this place? Not a burger on the menu.

Cavern on Naboo wasn't exceptionally upscale, but it was still a few steps above what she was used to. It was quiet and pleasantly lighted, with the glowpanels putting out a soft warm illumination that seemed more like a gentle hug than anything else. Hanging plants adorned most walls, interspersed with tasteful wine racks reaching to the ceiling. Carved wood chairs surrounded matching tables, with inlays of teal gemstones and brass. Even some manufactured rock faces could be seen, with glittering gold-colored veins snaking throughout.

It was a semi-private booth-style table that the two now sat at, set away toward the back of the establishment, with a server in the process of pouring their water. He said something about making sure to get them their complimentary savory rolls and that when he returned he would go through the menu and specials. Before he could leave though, the blonde held him back.

"I'd like an Old Rebellion, if you don't mind."

She looked to Vance then, one eyebrow lofting up in a silent 'and you?'

[Vance Felline]

"A Canohba Imperiolo, cold glass, with ice. No garnish."

The server nodded and walked off, leaving Felline trying to find a conversation topic that would last them until the drinks came and their orders went out, something that wouldn't be so crass as to have the server intrude on a business discussion.

"I confess, this whole situation is almost astoundingly absurd. How exactly does the owner of Aether Hypernautics recommend an Alderaani Captain with a representative who happens to be a veritable twin of an Alliance Captain?" he laughed to himself and shook his head.

[Cerie Moreau]

A sly grin was sent his way as she leaned back in her seat. Picking up her water glass, Cerie took a sip before offering an answer.

"It's a long story," she started, "... which is pretty cliche to say, I know."

The glass was set down.

"Captain Merasska and I came across each other by accident - " helped along by creepy zombie children, " - and we both figured that it would be good for business to partner up."

Technically, Ben had been gracious enough to allow her to become a part of his crew, but the party line had become something else when talking with clients. Then again, this right now - getting done up and meeting a client alone and without Ben - was a new twist, but she still stuck to the story that the two had cooked up.

Settling more comfortably in her cushioned seat, she draped one leg over the other.

"Looking like Captain s'Ilancy is sometimes a boon, and other times... not."

For a moment, Cerie looked off to the side. The bar was as much a work of art as it was a central socialization area. The bartop was a deep amber, with brass accents and more gemstone inlays. Rows of crystal clear glassware hung from runners mounted on upper rails, and the centerpiece of the bar itself was a stunning tower of shelves holding a myriad of artful and unique bottles. She could see the Pau'an bartender preparing their drinks, and watched in mild fascination before turning back to Vance.

"There's worse people I can think of to look like," she couldn't help but finish with a good-natured smile.

[Vance Felline]

"Indeed," he said, his own smile becoming less of a wry thing and more of a genuine affair. "I can only imagine the sort of trouble such a circumstance can bring."

He shook his head and dismissed his concerns for the moment, instead focussing on how the awkward atmosphere had become less tense and uncomfortable. Still awkward, unfortunately, but both of the duo seemed to be more at ease.

"I would start the business discussion, but I find it a bit crass to speak about such things when the staff are about. Either they notice and must wait and watch for the opportune moment, or they do not and risk the ire of their customers. I confess I am somewhat at a loss for conversation otherwise, and further am the slightest bit intimidated that I am dealing with woman like yourself, even aside from the unfortunate resemblance you bear."

[Cerie Moreau]

His smile was infectious, and she couldn't help but maintain her own.

"If it makes you feel any better, my original plans for the day were to stay in my bunk, eat a criminal amount of Cheez-O's, read some, then head off in search of the most wompnest style of bar I could find."

She would've said more, but their server returned with their drinks, placing each one in front of their new 'owners'.

A murmur of thanks, and Cerie instinctively let her hand rest around the intricately etched glass.

Their server began to list off the few items on the menu - apparently it was such a limited one that the wait staff had everything memorized. In a way, it saved on the printing costs for the menus; if you went the old school way, that is. And while the menu itself was indeed minimal, the food sounded more than a few bars above what she was used to.

Buttered Twirrl in a white wine reduction with a medley of foraged plains mushrooms.

Yobshrimp risotto with a fillet of plank-grilled Laa.

Opee Sea Killer steak served on one of the creature's own scales (cut down and beautifully carved into a plate, of course) and drizzled with a creamy, peppery sauce made using a small portion of the actual deep sea water of Naboo.

Roasted Peko-Peko atop a bed of pearl starch-grains with a small side of steamed-then-torched coballi.

Fambaa medallions with a wilted thicket salad tossed with crispy shaak crumbles and thinly-sliced beach onions.




It all sounded wonderful. And out of her price range for sure.

Shifting her eyes to Vance once more, Cerie gestured for him to order first. And, just in case he tried to throw the smashball right back at her, she lifted her drink to take a measured, if not generous 'sip'.

[Vance Felline]

"I can only hope that my company is an improvement then," he replied. "I'll have the medallions, please. Do you enjoy seafood, Miss Moreau? I have a particular love for shrimp, but the options seem a bit heavy for tonight. Go on and order whatever you'd like."

The server left after taking her order, a standard distant smile on his face. Felline appreciated the professionalism, even considering that noticeable widening of the eyes as he mis-recognised Miss Moreau for Captain s'Ilancy. He sipped from his drink, toasting her in return.

"What sort of ship is Alderaan? I have heard only a little from Mister Lighever, who does not tend to dwell on the specifics of the ships, much to my dismay. He has told me of his impressions of Captain Merasska, but little of yourself or the other members of your crew."

[Cerie Moreau]

She took another level off of her drink, and savoring the taste as she swallowed, Cerie shifted in her seat.

"Mm, Ghtroc 720. So a light freighter. Captain Merasska prefers the dependability route over anything particularly extravagant."

Except for the actual water shower system. Thank the gods for Shuvin and her brilliance.

The second part of his question made her pause, as if it had caught her off guard. In a way it had, but mostly it was just something that'd never crossed her mind.

"The rest of us just try to do what we can to make sure everything goes smoothly."

The notion of anything going smoothly for any amount of time aboard Alderaan was laughable.

Another sip. That Pau'an bartender made a good drink.

"And yourself? Surely we weren't the only freight crew that your Mister Lighever gave you."

[Vance Felline]

The thought of such a lack of hierarchy on board a vessel both intrigued and alarmed him, but before he could try and dig further into that mystery, Moreau asked her own question, and it would be rude to sidestep it.

"I have had little cause to need such a service," he answered after taking a slow taste of his own drink, and finishing it. He gestured to his and Miss Cerie's drinks and the server, observant and discreet soul that he was, nodded. "It was only recently that I came into such a circumstance, as I now have physical items, gifts would be a good term, that I cannot possibly take along with me; but neither can I simply sell them off or leave them. So, Alderaan and you are my solution."

[Cerie Moreau]

His wordless request for another pair of drinks was smooth, and she couldn't help but appreciate it.

"Well, we're glad that you've chosen us," she almost purred.

A few more minutes of small talk, followed by the second round of their drinks, along with the promised artisanal bread, and a word from their server that their entrees were nearly finished. Cerie offered a sweet smile, but her eyes were soon to return to Vance as she ventured a first sip from her second drink.

"So, you have some gifts that you need delivery. What is the destination?"

[Vance Felline]

"Ah, nowhere adventurous, I assure you. The end destination is the Imperial Banking Station in the Teyr Sector, but you only need go as far as the Banking Station in the Botajef system. A simple task all 'round, one that I have no way of doing."

The server returned with their drinks, and informed them their food would be served very soon. Felline nodded politely, and turned back to Cerie, turning the conversation slightly off topic while the server was present.

"A Ghtroc? Certainly a solid choice for a freighter, though I've heard that the reactors have trouble feeding enough power to all their systems."

He sipped on his drink and listened to her intently; while he didn't commonly engage with freighters and runabouts unless during an operation or during an engagement where they were present as enemy assets (as a general rule, that was left to Customs, who jealously guarded their jurisdiction and relative independence of the Imperial military chain of command), he'd seen and dealt with a fair amount in his time as Captain of the Fearless, especially when assisting Knight Iscandar with her investigations, and he disdained having no knowledge of the craft he encountered. The conversation drifted, from there to other interests, such as reading (she enjoyed the pulp-fiction of the Heavy Bionics periodical), history (her primary interest was in the Old Republic), and eventually drifted into a discussion of holomovies, both the classics and the guilty pleasure of b-holos.

"White Station merely uses the Clone Wars as a backdrop," he argued. "While part of the plot does develop because of the war and their parts of it, the story is mainly about Rik and Ilza and their relationship and uses the war to further that along."

The server returned with their food in the middle of this conversation.

"For you, sir," he said, gracefully placing the shrimp dish down. "And you, ma'am. I hope you both enjoy. It must be a slow night for you though, ma'am."

Felline glanced up, confused, and saw a mirroring expression on her face as well.

"Well, it isn't often we see you out and about on the station, and to dine here when your first mate is here as well?" the server smiled, setting her entree in front of her. "A rare treat for us, I guess. I'll go get another round for you?"

He looked to them and down to his tiny datapad, and turned off while punching in the order for another round after Felline's distracted assent.

[Cerie Moreau]

There was a plain, unemotional look that was given to their server, and as soon as his back was turned Cerie couldn't help the deep scowl that pulled her features down.

In the face of her Opee Sea Killer steak, she would just have to hope that Captain s'Ilancy's second-in-command would be at a table far enough away that the two would not cross paths. The blonde was at least glad that 'round three would be coming along in relative short order. She was always a fan of going the distance, as one of her favorite holofilm series 'Stoney' had drilled into her at a remarkably young age.

"How about," she let her voice drop a level, so that it was almost a husky whisper, "... we eat our food, enjoy our drinks, and then go find somewhere else to discuss our business, yes?"

She couldn't help the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips though, as she had quite enjoyed their discussion before it'd been interrupted by their server.

"Besides, I'd love to know what you thought about Lai'tassen of Arkania and Seven Jedi."

Taking another drink, she stared at Vance from over the tops of her eyes, her hand seemingly moving of its' own accord to cut an impossibly tender bite from her steak with a fork, and lifting it up, she smoothly slid it inside her mouth. Eyes closing, Cerie allowed herself to lean back as the flavors swirled across her palette.

[Vance Felline]

"How about," and here her voice dropped a level, "...we eat our food, enjoy our drinks, and then go find somewhere else to discuss our business, hm?"

She even leaned forward, enjoying even this little moment. Her eyes glittered, and his own eyes drifted to her collarbone before he wrested control of himself back. He smiled, somehow enjoying this moment as well, much to his own silent surprise.

"It does seem to be getting far more crowded in here than I had anticipated," he said. "And I find myself wanting to know very much if Seven Jedi is anything like the Magnificent Mandalorians."

He found himself enjoying the medallions salad far more than he had anticipated, but found his attention diverted often by Miss Cerie's vocal enjoyment of her food.

[Cerie Moreau]

"You know," she let the words spill from her lips like a hushed avalanche, drawing everything around them down the mountainside, "... I would've never pegged you for a guy that likes the classics."

Another bite of her steak, another moment to relish the taste and savory notes.

"If anything - and not to be the judging sort of type - " she softened the verbal blow with a strangely genuine look of appreciation, "... I figured that you were the sort that had little to no appreciation for anything like those old holoflicks."

She couldn't help but smile as she took another sip of her drink, "It's nice to be proved wrong."

[Vance Felline]

"I am only too glad to shatter such preconceptions," he replied, winking and tossing back the last of the most recent round. "While such people exist, I daresay it is only as a warning for those of us who still enjoy life."

[Cerie Moreau]

STANZA 3

Nothing that's formal,
Nothing that's normal,
No recitations to recite;
Open up the curtain:
Comedy Tonight!
Something erratic,
Something dramatic,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!
Frenzy and frolic,
Strictly symbolic,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!
Something familiar,
Something peculiar,
Something for everybody:
Comedy tonight!
Something that's gaudy,
Something that's bawdy--
Something for everybawdy!
Comedy tonight!



They had finished their meal, and for a few moments Cerie found herself wishing that she could afford to eat like this more often. Usually it was Noodle Rings cold and straight out of the can. Other times it was instant Rodian soup noodles (yobshrimp was the best, of course). Crackers and instant breakfast pastries were also often eaten. But here, at Cavern on Naboo, and treated to a decadent meal along with the beginnings of a delightful fleet of delicious beverages, she couldn't help but try to prolong the magic.

It didn't help that as their dinner progressed, Vance Felline had made a healthy impression. He knew the classics, and enjoyed history. He liked to read, and was just as eager to talk about it all as she was.

He had paid their bill, and Cerie had happily left the establishment on his arm. Her stomach felt delightfully warm, but she was not quite ready for things to end. They had long since finished talking about the business side of their meeting, and now it was on to much more comfortable chatter.

"You know," her voice was rather cheery, a sign that she was thoroughly happy with his company, "... I recall seeing a lovely little drink kiosk over... there... " she gestured to the way she'd originally come from at the start of all this.

A grin crossed her features as she looked up at him, though if she was to be honest it hadn't really left in a long while.

"I wouldn't mind hearing your thoughts on whether Rough Expiration is an action holo or a Lifeday holo."

[Vance Felline]

The kiosk Moreau had been speaking of was not nearly as high-brow as Cavern on Naboo. To even put them on the same scale was something of an insult to the Cavern, in fact. It was just the sort of place he'd never have the desire to go to himself, and it may have been the alcohol he'd already imbibed, but he found himself looking forward to seeing it here, now, even with its garish lights that still left much of the thing dim.

"Why can it not be both a Life Day film and an action film? Surely the genres aren't that exclusive? Or are they implying that its central themes revolve around Life Day, which is frankly ridiculous," he was saying, in completely genuine confusion. Miss Moreau had been attempting to explain the controversy, as while he'd seen the film, he'd never heard of the arguments around it. She seemed to be enjoying his ignorance as much as he enjoyed how she tried to explain it.

[Cerie Moreau]

"Look, all I know is that it's not Life Day until I see Karn Jahan fall from Oza'Sori Tower."

Sidling up to two free seats around the narrow bar surrounding the kiosk, Cerie slid up onto a stool while somehow managing to pull Vance onto the one beside her with a gentle, guiding hold.

The kiosk, run by an Ortolan, was a jovial place with other patrons also taking up the limited seating. Shimmering string lights had been wound around the small awning's support poles, and a perfect view of the condiments and garnishes rested before their eyes with the actual shelves of liquor lined a sturdy back 'wall'. Brightly colored signage, cartoonish mascots on the menu board, and even a few pictures of the offered drinks were on a plaquard set off to the side.



Pai Keedo's Exotic Drink Emporium


Flowering Namana Heart
Krayt Dragon Pearl
Pantoran Snowblaster
Emperor's Black Bones
Jedi Juice
Hondo's Pirate Punch
Sarlacc Pit



There were a few others listed, but she already knew what to order, and was quick to speak up when Pai Keedo's eyes fell on the newcomers.

"I'll have the Hondo's Pirate Punch, and my man here will have the Krayt Dragon Pearl."

A sideways look was sent to Vance then, and Cerie grinned knowingly.

"They'll be good, I promise."

[Vance Felline]

"I shall defer to your judgment, then," he said, nodding to the Ortolan, who deftly turned and started making their drinks while taking more orders. He glanced around at the other customers, seeing a worn looking Bothan talking to a Durwi, a couple humans (or near humans) on the other side, three Ugnaughts chattering to each other to the side.

It was a common thing, but one that never ceased to astound him; how in all the galaxy's size, people still stumbled across each other through vast distances. If out of step for but a moment somewhere, the Durwi might never have even seen the Bothan, much less followed events to this kiosk where a tramp freighter woman and an Imperial Starfleet Captain out of uniform were connecting after talking business.

He might have never met Cerie.

He glanced back to find her smiling and watching him.

"I am glad our paths crossed, Cerie Moreau," he said, surprising himself with the forthrightness of the sentiment.

[Cerie Moreau]

It was enough to cause her a bit of surprise, and Cerie blinked a few times before allowing her features to settle in to a cheshire-cat's smile.

"And I have to admit, Vance Felline, the feeling is mutual."

To put it lightly. She had needed an evening like this, and she would certainly not squander it.

As Pai turned into a whirlwind of drink-mixing action, the blonde regarded her partner with a bit of a critical eye. Well, as critical of an eye as she could manage after a healthy more-than-three-rounds of Old Rebellions.

"I bet that you've needed a night like this for a lot longer than I have," her body seemed to slide closer in to him, as she rolled her neck, feeling those wondrous cracks in the vertebrae of her neck.

She let her hand shift enough to the side so that her pinky finger gently caressed the outside edge of his wrist.

"Am I wrong?"

[Vance Felline]

His first reaction was immediately deny any such need. He did not feel stifled or underserved in his role in Starfleet as he did not possess an overweening sense of ambition; nor was he of the opinion that he wasn't fit for his role, in fact, he felt like he'd been born to be the Captain of the Fearless, and there was no title he could imagine holding in higher esteem. But looking Miss Moreau in the eye, he couldn't rightly say that a night like this, without pretense or urgency, wasn't unnecessary.

"I cannot say that you are wrong at all," he answered, his eyes on her pinky, and then back to her. He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to make such a daring move, but he leaned forward, slowly and with intent, his eyes on hers until the distance between them could have been measured in a breath, and then pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a sloppy, or very passionate kiss. In fact, it was almost a question more than anything else.

When he pulled away, he looked to see what the answer might be.

[Cerie Moreau]

In a way it was surprising, but it was certainly nothing that she would have denied. In fact, it was something that she had secretly hoped for. At least, ever since she had lazily mopped up the last of her Naboo Sea Sauce with the last bit of her Opee Sea Killer steak.

Gods, how long had it been? How long is someone supposed to gauge these sorts of things?

His look as he pulled away... it was so innocent and sweet, and she fed on just that sort of diet. At the same time it awoke the need, and Cerie barely registered Pai as he set both of their finished drinks in front of them.

Her hands both rose up then, to bring his head down to hers, and she pressed her lips once more to his with a hunger that was bourne from near-starvation... of the need to connect with a being that held so much in common.

He had a delightful taste, a refined and sophisticated note that only made her posture rise, shoulders rolling back as she both seemed to present to him and demand he present to her as well.

[Vance Felline]

Of all the things he might have expected from such an unseemly show in public, applause wasn't even on the list, but when they broke the second kiss, Felline found that the other customers at the kiosk were clapping and whistling, smiles and winks thrown about like confetti at a party. In the background he thought he might have heard a strangled shout, a "hrk!" or "hrng!" of some kind, but his focus was perhaps understandably taken up by the Durwi and Bothan both hiding smirks and the humans elbowing each other, and the Ortolan's inky, lifeless black eyes that stared back without nary an emotion.

"Encore!" someone called. Felline flushed slightly and occupied himself with his drink, coughing slightly and turning to look at Miss Moreau.

[Cerie Moreau]

She looked to the one who called for another showing, and raised her newly-delivered drink to him. It was an unspoken 'in time, friend', sort of admission. Her punch was a bright red, with a gaudy red faux fire-bloom flower and a cheaply made food-safe Ugnaught figurine clinging to the rim. A sip, and she could confirm that the fruity concoction was indeed delightful.

The Krayt Dragon Pearl that she'd ordered for Vance was slightly more distinguished, with a gelatin globule of milky white at the bottom of a tulip-style glass of pale green liquid.

With a grin that spoke volumes, Cerie hitched her head to one side as her eyes remained on Vance. His reciprocation of their second kiss had been enough to embolden her, and she couldn't help but wind her leg around his, drawing him ever-so-much-closer.

"I'll trade you a taste of mine for a taste of yours."

[Vance Felline]

The crowd had calmed somewhat, but he was very aware that they had become something of a show to the rest of the clientele. Despite that, the alcohol he'd already had and the boldness that successfully kissing Cerie had engendered within him kept what would normally be a very irritating circumstance something barely meriting notice instead.

Most of his attention was wrapped up in Cerie's blonde hair and blue eyes and that distractingly low neckline, and the way she'd come so very close, and how her foot would drag up and down his leg. His own manner kept him from so brazenly reciprocating such gestures, but by this point it was hardly necessary and his own receptiveness was assured.

He wordlessly offered her a sip of his drink, but looked around when he heard another wordless cry of hate swiftly silenced somewhere nearby. His attention was drawn back to Cerie and down her shoulder to the back of her dress. It took him a moment, but he finally recognized the zipper, and how it looked to be slowly coming undone. His expression of alarm was washed off his face when she looked back at him and offered her own drink for his tasting.

The Pirate Punch was certainly a fruity and sweet kick in the teeth also.

[Cerie Moreau]

His eyes had the sort of look that invited more attentions, and Cerie was more than happy to provide him with just that. He was handsome, he was cultured, he enjoyed the classics, and still had time to slide into the slightly-more-mainstream of the sort that she herself found enjoyable. And while it was quite likely the alcohol beginning to take hold, she couldn't help but ride that happy wave.

Not to mention he had that look.

It was the same one that she had.

But, she was determined to make it worth her while. So long as she got hers, after all.

Everything around them seemed to fall away, and she took a second sip of his drink before sliding it back to him.

"It's good," she couldn't help but admit while taking up her own once more.

"I bet that pearl in there is what'll make that thing really good, though."

Damn the other patrons. She didn't care. She saw what she wanted. The dinner, the drinks, the conversation, the everything.

Mama's gonna have what she wants...

She gave him a brief moment to take another sip of his drink, but nothing more than that before her hand slid over to momentarily rest on his thigh. A gentle test, and she slowly slid a soft palm to the inside. Not to touch, but to test.

Hidden, of course, by the bartop. It was his only saving grace, and quite frankly the only one she would allow him.

[Vance Felline]

His back wasn't the only thing that stiffened when she let her hand slide along his thigh, and he was pretty sure she was feeling that part too.

One hand came down to arrest her further 'explorations', but did not attempt to move her hand away. She glanced at him in question, and he shot her a loaded look.

"Miss Moreau," he breathed, settling in close. "If you wish to take this somewhere more... private, then I am more than amenable."

[Cerie Moreau]

It was a knowing grin that she sent his way, their heads a scant few centimeters apart. His hand over hers, holding rather than sliding it aside, was warm and firm. Her eyes shifted in a fleeting look to his lips, and she bit her own lower lip in anticipation. A measured, slow bite that left nothing in question.

"I know just the place," she answered in a low, husky tone before closing that impossibly close breath of space between them for another kiss.

Her free hand fumbled into her clutch purse, and finding a handful of credit chits, she scooped them out and onto the bar top.

[Vance Felline]

"I am once more deferring to your judgement," he breathed, and offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

[Cerie Moreau]

Pai was an attentive bartender, all things considered. He'd deftly snatched away their drinks to transfer the contents into plastic cups (and was so kindly mindful enough to make sure that the garnishes stayed with the drinkers),his stubby fingers surprisingly dextrous as they quickly tended (ha!) to the task at hand. The amount of the chits that had been left for him more than made up for the fleeting presence of the couple now currently sucking the air from one another.


* * *

By the merciful heavens they had managed to score a lift alone to the spire that Alderaan was docked at.

The lack of any other body, and with her drink still in hand, Cerie pressed herself into Vance, her free hand coming up to grip his collar and haul his head down to her level for a round of applause-less enjoyment. She let herself be backed up against the wall, feeling a delightful surge in her body as he moved swiftly into her personal space. And when the both of them came up for air, the blonde was quick to nestle into the crook of his neck, giving a teasing nibble to the underside of his jaw.

[Vance Felline]

With no one around to watch, he found his ever waning self-restraint quickly disappearing, virtually sucked out by Cerie's kisses and her expressions, somehow both supremely confident and endearingly hopeful at once. Her dress was getting rumpled, her hair was already slightly disheveled, and by the stars she was beautiful.

The lift stopped and the doors opened, and she was back to pulling him along with her to a hatch, her hand slapping the wall to find the door control. They tripped and rolled along the umbilical's wall, and nearly tumbled down the ramp into a mostly empty and dimly lit cargo bay.

"Is this," he managed to get out around through kisses, "Alderaan?"

"Mhm," she breathed, her hands gliding up and down his back.

"Good chance of a fall happening here," he said critically, and hooking one arm around her legs and the other around her back, he lifted her up and held her close. "Show me the way, Miss Moreau."

[Cerie Moreau]

There was no worrying about whether either Shuvin or Ben would be aboard; The Togruta would no doubt be completely taken with the Tea House. Ben was off to the merchants sector and the swap market that had become rather popular with mechanics, engineers, and the captains of cargo freighters. So that meant that for now, Alderaan was all hers. And Vance's.

Being scooped up as though she was some sort of actual damsel elicited a slight 'eep' of surprise, but it was soon stifled by anticipation and a return to his neck.

"Down that little hall," she murmured, "... around that turn, and first door right... there."

She had the wherewithal to at least lean over from his hold to palm the door panel, and it whisked aside to reveal a room that was in a strange state of controlled and organized chaos.

Her bed was covered in blankets; some soft plush, others fake fur, and even another few that were possibly the softest in existence, it seemed. Two pillows were stacked atop one another at the head of the bed, and the latest issue of Heavy Bionics was on top of those. Two lothcat stuffed animals had been shoved into the corner, one cream with purple stripes, and the other one bright red and orange. They'd been an impulse buy at the last stopover they'd had, as those smiling faces had won her over and she had to have them.

Her small closet was partially open, to reveal her small wardrobe of both everyday clothes and even a few of her costume uniforms. The desk held a small collection of aged and anooba-eared old style books that looked as though they had been read much more than just once. The titles on the spines were embossed in faded letters, showing off their age.

Architecture of the Old Republic
The Kanz Disorders
The Beast Wars of Onderon
Abridged Diaries of Nomi Sunrider

There were also datapads piled on the floor next to the desk, each with libraries of so many books. A makeshift shelf had been installed over the desk, and it too held a few books, but also a few random collectible figurines from the recently popular holo Game of Sabers.


But all of this was the background, and ignored in the face of the much more immediate... activities.

The door swiftly closed behind them, and Cerie levered herself up in his arms.

"Cerie," she breathed as she slid the rest of her body from his hold. Her hands traveled down his chest, fingers splayed out to feel as much of his torso beneath the shirt's fabric as possible before two fingers hooked themselves into the beltloops of his trousers. The blonde tugged him along with her over the - admittedly - short distance to her bed.

The heels had been kicked off, which brought her down a few inches more, but it bothered her little as she felt her calves bump into the edge of the mattress.

Her fingers wound themselves out from the beltloops and her hands slid around his waist, unashamedly helping herself to two scoops.

"... just call me Cerie."

[Vance Felline]

"Cerie," he said, as if testing the way her name sounded. Her hands squeezed in return, and by that point he was well and truly determined to make sure that she would have no doubt as to why she was sore in the morning. With that in mind, his jacket and shirt were taken off and dropped to the floor in moments, and his fingers drifted around to find the zipper of her dress.

[Cerie Moreau]

Held in his arms as his hands moved to the zipper of her dress, Cerie reciprocated. Her own arms shifted back, fingertips tracing lazy, almost teasing patterns along his waist before finding his come-hither lines and running along their softly-defined contours until she reached the top button of his trousers.

She could feel his arousal on the other side of the fabric, and made quick work of freeing him from his own zippered dungeon. In a smooth motion she slid one hand downward, and while he wasn't at full mast just yet, she could at least help him along that road.

"Mmmm," the low moan was purred out, as she felt his teeth take gentle hold of an earlobe. In return, she took tender hold of him, her fingers fanning out for a moment before sliding back to the base. And then, like a sweet whisper, she let them wind their way toward the tip at a maddening slow pace, ending in a teasing swirl before returning for a repeat.

[Vance Felline]

The dress fell gracelessly from Cerie's form, but any chance of his drinking in the sight of Cerie was dashed when she so teasingly caressed him. The sensation, while expected, overwhelmed his senses for a brief moment. He voiced his pleasure lowly, a warm low tone breathed out into her ear from deep within his chest. The sound brought him back from the hazy-mindedness that her touch brought him to, but instead of being clear, he was hot and humid, like a summer's day back home.

He pushed Cerie back onto her bed, and let his hands flow down and touch her, exploring her breasts and sides and stomach, and even while he was riding that wave within him, rocking his hips slightly as her hand drifted back and forth, he was watching and listening, cataloguing her gasps and moans and the way she looked at him when his own fingers found her wet slit. With his own teasing motion, he mimicked her movements, rubbing and pressing when she squeezed ever so slightly, caressing and teasing when she only barely touched it, and finding her nub when she played with the tip of his member.

[Cerie Moreau]

Lost in the waves of pleasure for a time, Cerie instinctively arched her back as two of his fingers slowly curled upward inside of her. Then they straightened back out before curling once more. It was enough to make her let out a staggered, breathless sigh, hips bucking slightly out of pure reaction. Her own ministrations were as steady as she could maintain, but then she released him, both hands now traveling up his chest, fingernails dragging with deliberate pressure.

Taking hold of his shoulders, the blonde gave a surprising show of carnal force as she rolled them both over.

She straddled his stomach and leaned forward to press her lips to his in a frenzied kiss. The feel of his cock against her backside only gave her more incentive, and releasing him with a hungry grin, Cerie let her body snake downward. Her tongue blazed a trail from his throat to his collar bone, then further down along his sternum.

She moved like a wave, lifting up only enough to clear his erection; though not quite enough so that the tip could kiss along her outer folds. And then she felt it along her midsection. Both of her hands slid along the length of his arms, then palms met palms, then fingertips met fingertips, and then finally she held fast to his waist as her tongue made a lazy loop around his belly button and the beginning of his delightful happy-trail. She felt his stiffness between her breasts, and paused for only a few precious seconds to relish the feeling.

Her eyes tilted up then, to look at him as her mouth once more continued its southward trajectory with one destination in mind.

[Vance Felline]

It was maddening, having all these sensations but nothing to really do with or for them. Being surrounded by Cerie's breasts was a feeling that he couldn't adequately describe, a soft pillowy weight that at once was divine and uncomfortable but more than that as well; and the awareness of her nipples as they dragged along his skin was intoxicating.

He met her eyes, and that look she had right before taking his erection into her hot wet mouth made his own mouth dry. He gripped her hands, and his prick pulsed as that first wave of wet heat seemed to rush through his shaft down to his testicles and then further, right into his stomach and chest. He panted as if he were running a race and let out a low, wordless moan.

Cerie's answer was to hum and smile around him and squeeze his hands.

[Cerie Moreau]

It was just the reaction she was hoping for, and Cerie couldn't help but let her tongue lazily zig-zag over the underside of his shaft as she slowly pulled up. Moments later she slid down its length once more to take as much of him into her mouth as she possibly could. Up again, and this time she made sure to circle the tip before another descent.

Her motions were smooth and gentle, and the blonde took her cues from the pace of his breathing and the throaty murmurs of pleasure that she could hear from him. His grip on her hands was a good indicator as well.

His own vocalizations were enough to further along her own arousal, and she could feel that telltale tingle that was the first sign of a desire to be filled. She wanted him in her, wanted to feel that first wonderful moment when he pushed himself inside. Just the thought of it made her moan around his stiffness, and with one last weaving trail of her tongue, she came up, letting him free from the warm confines of her mouth.

A hungry inhale of breath, and her tongue darted out to lick at the small drop of precum that had managed to collect at one corner of her lips.

She rose to her knees and released his hands so that she could crawl forward once more, aligning their hips, hovering just above him like some torturous pendulum that refused to fall just yet.

Palms came down to either side of his head then, and panting, she lowered herself only enough so that the tip of his cock barely pressed into her.

"Now," her words were breathlessly gasped out through the veil of her desire and need and Cerie resumed the exquisite descent, feeling him penetrate past her inner folds and into her soft depths, "... don't you dare fuck like an Imperial."

[Vance Felline]

Any response he could have made to that statement was effectively and utterly strangled by the feeling of being sheathed within Cerie. His hands flashed to her hips and pulled her down while his own bucked up. They both gasped at the movement and stilled, getting used to the rush of sensations and the cocktail of endorphins rushing through their blood.

The feel of her was at once both incredibly muted and extremely sharp. That wet heat was both his whole world, but he could also smell her arousal, feel the sheets and blankets beneath him, and hear her panted breath at the same time; he was awash in these sensations and was having trouble focusing on all of them, or even a number of them at once, and so he was registering them in flashes: she moved and his whole existence was his dick, pulsing and erect inside her; he sat up, and the feel of the sheets underneath him was overpowering; wrapping his arms around her and pumping her up and down, he could feel her breath on his ear and hear her moans reverberating down into his core; he laid atop her and began to thrust, exploring her and touching her, and the scent of their mingled arousal and sweat was so thick he could almost taste it.

Her legs curled around him, and he held himself up so as to watch her pleasure while they ground their hips together, and now he could feel her trembling beneath him, her core getting hotter and wetter and instinctively he picked up the pace of his thrusts to match her gasps while her hands clenched almost painfully on his upper arms.

[Cerie Moreau]

She let her head fall back as her entire body rocked with each one of his thrusts, feeling as his hands wandered over her in search of anything and everything. Her legs around him provided her with means to root herself to him, and letting go of his arms, Cerie gripped the blankets beneath her as she bit her bottom lip. Her body craved more, and she was ever so happy to oblige.

It was as he drew back for another push inward that she didn't wait for him to come down, instead bucking up to swallow him once more. She held then, and in the next moment gave the slightest roll of her hips while at the same time giving a tantalizing squeeze to his cock. It was such a lovely sensation, to hold him inside of her with the barest of movements on the outside, but a devilish application of her pelvic muscles working to torture him from her warm depths.

Looking up at him perched over her, she gave him a carnal grin right before she flexed again in concert with another gentle hip roll.

One hand came up then to dance a fingertip around one of his nipples before continuing upward to palm the back of his neck and haul him down for a manic kiss.

"I... I can do this all... all night," she gasped out in a low, husky tone.

And as if to punctuate her words, she seemed to melt further into him even as she gave his cock another gentle squeeze.

[Vance Felline]

The feeling he got from being massaged while inside of her was incredible, it made him moan and laugh at the same time.

"All night? Stars, I don't know how much longer I'll last," he gasped when he finally remembered how to form words, and wasn't being wonderfully suffocated by Cerie's lips. He rolled his hips in time with hers, savoring that molten heat enveloping him, and then started thrusting again, this time slow and steady.

[Cerie Moreau]

"I told you," she panted, "Don't fuck like an Imperial."

She let him control the pace for a few minutes, relishing the way his body crashed into her own, jarring the pleasure centers of her core. It had been a long time since anyone had been able to do such a thing. Cerie let out a near-whimper as she felt his manhood fill her so completely. Another thrust, and she gasped out a breathy expletive before doubling down and giving him an inner squeeze as he pulled out, only to relax so that he could drive into her once more. It was repeated for as long as she thought he would be able to take it, until she finally hauled him down to crush his body to hers, holding him close with a surprisingly iron grip, her chest pressed into his with particular force, as if she willed the two to merge into a single being.

And really... hadn't they?

She bared her teeth then, breathing haggardly into his ear before hissing at him.

"Fuck me like an anooba."

[Vance Felline]

Again, she threw out that line, like Imperials were somehow obviously bad lovers. Well, he'd have to show her that this Imperial was no dead fish.

"Very well then," he breathed, and disengaged from her. She only had time to glance at him before he flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips up, and once more slipped in. He only gave her another moment to settle himself before he pulled out and thrust back into her from behind with a verve, gripping her hips and squeezing her ass while losing himself once more in the rhythm of their fucking.

He would have asked her how she felt about this, but the question would be moot; she was quite loudly letting him know what he was doing right without any prompting on his part.

[Cerie Moreau]

The feel of being so swiftly flipped over, as though it was effortless, made her trill in excited anticipation, and as he pushed himself in once again, this new angle was enough to cause seemingly every nerve in her body to quiver in utter delight. His grip on her hips, controlling her lower half as he drove in was intoxicating, and the blonde let out a wild, trailing moan that stuttered in time with each of his thrusts. She was nearly undone, except for one more thing.

One hand shifted back, to take hold of one of his own, and she guided him around to slide his fingers over her clit. It only took that bit of coaching before she felt her insides begin to bubble up, the wave very clearly well on its way to washing over her.

Words were forgotten as she could only let out gasping cries with each thrust, and her free hand grabbed the edge of a pillow as she bit the other end, her voice now a feral whine as the crescendo built to the point of being unbearable.

Her entire galaxy was - in this moment - his cock. Each time he reared back for another plunge, she felt her wetness crave his length almost immediately, and then it came rushing back to fill her.

Sweaty, panting, and begging without words for more, Cerie felt the release just as he again thrust in, and she shuddered with the feeling of all of him buried deep, letting out a lengthy sigh that also seemed to be a gasp, all woven together in one cry.

[Vance Felline]

He rammed into her, as if trying to get even deeper inside. Her voice was muffled by the pillow and even if it weren't he was sure that there were no words coming from her.

He watched in entranced fascination as she arched her back and shuddered underneath him. The realization that she'd orgasmed, that he was watching her orgasm, that she was shaking because of him crashed into his awareness and he could feel the churning and tightening in his groin.

"Cerie," he gasped, his thrusts becoming jerky and spasmodic. "I can't— I'm going to—"

[Cerie Moreau]

Cerie couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips then, and she felt his pace turn almost frantic and uncontrolled. It was enough to awaken a second surge of pleasure. She'd only had enough time to feel her legs twitch in the wake of her first orgasm before her body responded in kind to his words, knowing that he was on the cusp of his own. His cock was buried so completely inside of her, and yet he still pressed himself into her as if to get every bit of his shaft as deep as he possibly could.

Instinctively she clenched around him, holding him in even as he weakly tried to last.

It didn't matter, as the second wave pulsed around and through her body. It was unrelenting, and she could feel the first dripping tendril of his cum seep out and begin the meandering trek down her inner thigh.

"All of you!"

Her keening wail wavered as her second orgasm seemed to render her mad. Her eyes clenched shut, and she bit her lower lip as both hands now gripped her pillow. Cerie pushed back against him even as he pushed against her, and the both of them became a single beast, locked together in the throes of quivering ecstacy.

[Vance Felline]

She bucked up against him, and his entire body tightened and kept tightening. It was amazing and terrifying, a precipice he couldn't find the edge of until he'd already fallen off.

The release was sudden, and it seemed to drain all of his energy; he gasped and spots appeared in his vision.

With a final gasp, he collapsed to the bed beside Cerie. He became aware of the air around him, the sweet chill of the recycled air brushing over his sweat-slickened skin.

"If that wasn't enough," he panted finally, "give me ten minutes and we can go again."

[Cerie Moreau]

STANZA 4


Stunning surprises!Cunning disguises!
Hundreds of actors out of sight!
Pantaloons and tunics!
Courtesans and eunuchs!
Funerals and chases!
Baritones and basses!
Panderers!
Philanderers!
Cupidity!
Timidity!
Mistakes!
Fakes!
Rhymes!
Crimes!
Tumblers!
Grumblers!
Bumblers!
Fumblers!
No royal curse, no Trojan horse,
And a happy ending, of course!
Goodness and badness,
Panic is madness--
This time it all turns out all right!
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!


Standing barefoot in front of the cooler unit, Cerie held the door open, surveying the inner contents.

Her hair was a mess, and she'd put it up with a tie to keep it mostly out of the way for now. She wore a hastily pulled on pair of old utility trousers and a faded looking button-up shirt that she'd 'borrowed' from Ben (it'd ended up in her laundry bag somehow, and she'd never gotten around to returning it). It had once been a vibrant affair, with a pattern of voorpaks and gullipuds all over. Now, after so many trips through the wash, it had become a shadow of its once-former glorious self.

"No Cavern on Naboo here," she offered to the other body behind her in the galley.

"But we do have Hoth Pockets," a box was pulled out with one hand, and two bottles of That's No Moon with the other. She used her hip to close the cooler's door before turning to Vance, and held out one of the bottles to him.

"They're the good ones, too. Ronto with cheese and Tatooine bolog sauce."

It certainly wasn't a fancy snack, but they would both need their strength for round two.

[Vance Felline]

He glanced at the food, idly noticing that it bore a considerable likeness to the fare from the food processors aboard Fearless.

"I've never had one before, but the thought of a sauce from a planet that has to farm water from the atmosphere is intriguing to say the least," he said, opening his bottle and taking a swig. The taste of cold beer wasn't a new sensation, but it was a very odd one to him, who'd grown up on chilled or warm beers throughout his life. But more than anything else, it was cold and liquid, and the chill that seeped through him from his belly was a welcome one.

[Cerie Moreau]

Tearing open the box, Cerie upended its two individually wrapped contents onto the small countertop before standing on her toes so that she could reach a plate from one of the few upper cabinets. It was a stretch, but she managed well enough, and pulled one down.

Both turnovers were unwrapped, then slid into the handy heating sleeves each had come with.

"Well, the bolog sauce is made from stewed topatos and braised eopie neckbones, so that the collagen can really get good and soupy-thick."

Opening her own beer, the blonde took a quick swig before setting it down and returning to the food prep.

"And whatever that spice blend is that they use, it's just perfect."

The sleeved turnovers were deposited on the plate, and she set it inside the toasting oven, setting the timer. It was a cheap appliance, gotten... who knew how long ago. But, it did what it was supposed to do with particular efficiency, and Cerie was certainly not the sort of girl to complain about that. Pushing 'start', she whirled around on her heel, leaning back on the counter to look at Vance.

He was a sight for sure, with his beer and standing there like a slightly-out-of-place pup. It was endearing, and with another swift upturn of her bottle, she swallowed a healthy amount before stepping forward and into his personal space, leaning up to place her lips on his cheek for a little peck.

"I'll be right back," her murmured words were hungry for more than the hoth pockets currently cooking, that much was evident, and she allowed herself one last nip at his jawline before sliding away from him.

"Don't go anywhere."

[Q. Samus Dage]

* * *

He'd maintained at least some amount of curiosity at the half-glimpses he'd caught of a couple a short distance away from his and T'yeellaa's own table at Cavern on Naboo. It was the woman who'd caught his eye. A woman that he was certain was Lok. It didn't seem too out of the ordinary, other than the fact that the man she was dining with was Captain Vance Felline. The Imperial Captain was a strange one, but not much different than most Imperials that he'd dealt with. In fact, Samus found himself liking the other man to a degree. He was easy enough to talk to, despite being on the other side of the proverbial fence.

Of course, it was as he and T'y had finished their meal and left the restaraunt, catching sight of a... a kiss... that set him back on his heel. Captain Felline had been the one to initiate the intimate gesture, and T'yeella had been the one to forcibly hold him back from stomping over like an angry rancor bent on taking back its stuffed tauntaun from the overly-assuming wampa playing with it.

T'y had said it wasn't Lok, but Samus was already seeing red. Already headed down the path of intended confrontation. Dammit if Cizerack weren't strong, and she had at least successfully held him back; long enough for the two captains to disappear into a lift, at least.

He'd snarled in righteous anger, and T'y had finally let him go. A terse exchange of words, and she had stormed off to another bank of lifts that would take her to Spire 1. Not him, though. Samus was already storming his way to the lifts that would send him after Lok and Felline.

He spent the entire lift ride stewing in boiling anger, needing an outlet.

Vance Felline's face was going to be that outlet.



--



The customs officers had been less than helpful, and it didn't matter how many times he tried to pull rank, they found no drive to speed along the process of getting him to the right ship. A solid 45 minutes had passed before the lead officer pointed him in the direction of Alderaan, and with a snarl, the rangy blonde turned on his heel. He wasted no time at all, marching through the umbilical and through the entry hatch.

He at least paused for a moment, eyes going to either side of him as he gathered his bearings. An old Ghtroc. A good ship. Dependable. Screwing his features into a mask of determined retribution, Samus tromped his way towards the galley. It would be the first place he'd check.

Stepping through the doorway, he caught sight of Captain Felline instantly. The man was in the middle of a drink.

"There you are," came the rumbling growl as Quentin Samus Dage lumbered forward with damn-near murder in his eyes.