Assassin by Another Name

by T C

  "Don't apologize," Kaydia whispered gently, pushing him back into his chair and snuggling into him. His arms slipped around her shoulders, holding her close as she toyed with the sweat-slick curls of hair on his chest. She felt so good, so right, in his arms, and he closed his eyes in contentment.

  "I won't, then," he whispered back. "But I really did want to last longer. I wanted you to... well..." He kissed her again, pulling her closer against him. "Well, I wanted you to feel desired."

  She chuckled at that, her fingers tracing his muscles. “Of course, I’m no doctor, but we were both badly injured. I think a week of bed rest is called for."

  "At least a week," he agreed. "And a nice hot shower first." His fingers trailed down her spine. "We shouldn't climb into bed while we're still grimy and sweat-stained, after all."

  “Where do we go from here?” She asked, after a few more moments of cuddling and kissing, nuzzling his neck. “I am sort of…unemployed,” she explained, looking for the right word. “Fired for insubordination. I refused to carry out instructions from my boss. So I don’t think she will give me a letter of recommendation.” She chuckled at that, keeping the mood light between them now. “Unemployed and broke, with not even a shirt to my name. Unless you think you can bill the Justiciar to keep me as your bed warmer. Then I suppose I don’t need any clothes.”

  The questions were light and flirty, but they still damped his mood. "Bed warmer, hmm? We probably won't make it to the bed, if you walk around the Scrapper naked. The couch, perhaps. And the wall, and the table. And here in the cockpit. But... we'd be doing good to make it to the bed what? One time in six?" He grinned. "Statistically speaking, that is."

  “To be fair, my dear Quentin, I don’t think wearing clothes would stop us from fucking nearly anywhere on the ship.” She teased, lips and breath hot on his neck.

  Still, the reminder her words brought sobered him. Just a little. "I've... still got a duty to fulfill. Here, I mean." He kissed her again, more reassuring than passionate. "To you, of course. But, well..." A sigh. "Here, let me show you." Shifting a little, he tapped a few keys on the controls. A hologrammatic image of a black-robed man with elaborate black tattoos sprang into life.

  "Are you familiar with the planet Baish? The focal point of the recent schism in the Republic." He gestured at the image of the Zabrak. "This is security footage from the Royal Palace of Athrend, capital of Baish. And that is a Apostate Lord, one that called himself The Dissident." The footage advanced at a gesture, showing two robed humans. "Justiciar Erin Moon and acolyte Taris Mecalf." He watched the duel progress. "Darth Maul was killed, but not before he slew Erin."

  With another gesture, he dismissed the image. "An Apostate, Kaydia. A real Apostate, not like Linora and her embrace of the darkness. True evil, like the chill miasma around Baronet Aldane ha-Florindel." He pulled Kaydia close, seeking her warmth to drive away the memory of the chill presence in the Psionics. "Where you find one Apostate, there is always another. One the Master, the other the Apprentice. But... we don't know which one this The Dissident was. And we need to know. Because just one Apostate Lord could tear down the entire Republic."

  Leaning his forehead against hers, he stared deep into her emerald eyes. "I need a partner, Kaydia. I... there's no way I could defeat that Baronet, not in a fair fight. I need a partner I can trust, one who understands the kind of work I do and who has the skills to do it as well." He smiled. "I need you, Kaydia. As my partner, and as my lover."

  “Your partner and lover, huh? Is this a paying gig? What does this make me? A contracted mercenary? Your bodyguard? Your private, personal companion?” She kissed him, seeking the comfort of his love.

  Quentin chuckled at her questions about her title. "I like 'private, personal companion'," he laughed, kissing her back. "Now, you understand that it's a position beneath me, right? Although we can renegotiate that position later..." He kissed her again. "Although," he added, voice more serious, "I've got another..."

  “What do you have to do here, still? I mean your cover was already blown, what more can you get from here?” she asked, trying to hold back the panic, but he could sense it anyway. “I sure Linora is going to come looking for me, and I don’t think the Baronet is going to give so easily either. Shouldn’t we get off world, regroup and get a grip on our situation?”

  "Well, my original mission," he sighed, holding her close as he felt panic rise as she spoke of Linora and the Baronet. "I was trying to trace the financing of the ship The Dissident flew. A Raneis-built vessel, but one with no official existence. I was at the party tonight to try and access money transfer records." She still shook, just a little, in his arms. "But we can leave for a while, if you need to. My current cover's blown anyway, so we'll need a new strategy."

  “Financing of a ship?” she asked. “Actually, I think I have something for you.”

  "Well, I was hoping you'd have something for me!" Quentin replied with a playful leer. But he didn't resist as she pulled him to his feet and led him back into the ship. Although, remembering what had happened the last last time they had wandered the ship naked and distracted by lust, he reached out with his free hand and called his plasma blade to him. Better to be prepared.

  Still, he didn't think she was dragging him into his quarters just to fuck him again. Not just anyway, not through the guarded excitement that danced in her thoughts alongside her vivid images of his hands gripping her ass as he pressed her into the wall, her back slapping into the hull as he drove his meet into her with an animalistic frenzy. Or of gripping a shower head, one leg braced against a wall as hot water needled her body, streaming down breast and stomach to mingle with her juices as he knelt before her his tongue caressing the inner walls of her cunt...

  By the time they reached his quarters and she began rooting through her meager belongings, he was hard as a rock. But then she held up a memory disk and explained what it was, and his eyes went wide. "You did..? I mean, your client..? You... copied it all!" He whooped in triumph, reaching for the disk. "Let me see it!"

  Her laughter was coquettish. "No, no, no. That's not how this works, Mr. Justiciar," she teased, keeping the disk just out of reach. "I'll never talk! You'll have to interrogate me!" The excitement in her eyes and the lust bubbling in her mind left no doubts about what form the 'interrogation' should take, and a similar excitement gleamed in his grey eyes.

  "Is that so?" he growled, pitching his voice low and menacing as he advanced on her. "You won't talk, hmmm?" He reached out, slamming the door with the Psionics, then caught her by the throat and pushed her into the wall with just enough strength to feel rough. "You're trapped here," he told her. "Nobody knows where you are, and nobody's coming to help you."

  He trapped her wrist with a free hand, smacking it into the wall. His lips met hers in a rough, almost brutal kiss. "You'll tell me everything I want to know," he snarled, biting her lip. "You'll give me everything I want. Or I'll take it from you." The hand on her throat squeezed a little, slightly constricting her breathing. "I've got all night..."

  “You never get it!” She gasped, kissing him back with a feral aggression, “Not unless it’s over my passed out and exhausted body. Truthfully, his words and actions were dangerous close to things that been said and done to her by Linora, and her men. Still, Kaydia pushed forward, reenacting some of her darker memories with Quentin. It was purposeful, even as it toed that line between playful and distressing. Those things couldn’t hurt her anymore. They were her memories, but she wouldn’t be controlled by them. She would take control. She would reshape and reform those memories with Quentin, a man who would never hurt her in a way she didn’t like.

  So with her free hand, she reached down between his legs, gripping his cock. Hard and slick with their combined orgasms. “You don’t have it in you, Justiciar,” she hissed, stroking him with a firm grasp. Just on this side of forceful, getting him painfully hard. Her fondling had him distracted, loosening his grip on her just enough for her to push him back, s
lamming his naked body down on his bed. She was pinning him down, feeling his throbbing shaft between their stomachs while she pulled on his hair. “I’m going to take it from you. Fuck you senseless until you are nothing but my own Justiciar sex slave.”

  Now it was her turn to kiss him hard, her fingers tangled in his hair so he couldn’t pull away, even when breathing became desperate. She was gasping as she came up for air finally, dizzy with lust, half hoping he would roll her over, just like he had on the roof, before. “Beg…me…” She wheezed, “Beg me to fuck… your…your delicious cock….”

  For a moment, as he realized what he'd said and felt Kaydia's reaction through the Psionics, he was afraid he'd gone too far. It was close, perhaps too close, to the nightmares she'd lived through. But then she was kissing him back, body and mind shivering with lust and need made more intense by the frisson of fear-laced adrenaline that coursed through her blood. She hooked his leg and shoved, riding him down as he crashed to the deck, and her body moved against his and her fingers clung to him and her lips ravished his. "Beg…me…” She wheezed, “Beg me to fuck…your…your delicious cock….”

  "Beg you?" he husked, shifting his leg and hip and twisting. They rolled, and suddenly she was pinned beneath his weight. "You forget yourself," he growled, one hand twisting tightly - right on the edge of pain - in her hair as the other squeezed a firm breast. "I'm not the prisoner here. You are." His cock slid against her dripping slit as he rocked his hips. "Make it easy on yourself, and tell me what I want to hear..."

  He bit at her throat, enjoying the game, and eased his grip. She exploded into motion then, modifying infighting techniques to grope and caress him as she fought for dominance. He hung on, twisting and grabbing soft, glistening flesh, finding himself seated against a wall with her pinned across his lap.

  "That's it," he husked, grinding his cock against her belly as he grabbed her long hair by the roots. "I warned you!" His free hand rose, slapping down on her ass with a crack and a stinging jolt. His callused palm caressed the red print on her bare flesh, then rose and struck again. "Make it easy on yourself," he said in a voice thick with lust. His fingers traced her slit as he caressed the new mark, and then he slapped again.

  Much like the scene before, as he pinned her on the roof, and she writhed beneath him, Kaydia found herself craving the feel of Quentin’s body against her. Greedy fingers dug into his muscles, leaving red marks along his arms and shoulders and back. And he was just as voracious, rough digits gripping her hips and ass. She could feel him, through his mind, easing back whenever his touch was too harsh. Using their link to apply just enough pressure to make her hot for him.

  Lost in the wrestling, in the feel of his sweat slink skin on her own, she wasn’t exactly sure how she ended up over his knee. Wriggling to escape his grasp, she squealed as his hand came down on her ass. He throbbed against her in time with her cries, the sharp sting making the sensations all the more intense. Shuddering as his fingers teased her slit, sodden with her juices, pleading for his caress. But he smacked her ass again, causing her to yelp and seize, straining against him. “N…Never…” she huffed, before arching her back as the next one came down.

  “You won’t…AHHH…break me…OW… ah!!!” Three more came down in quick succession, disrupting her ability to speak, or keep up the act. Then she was just heaving and gasping, trying to recover from his playful assault. Another came down, not as hard, and lower, making a moist sound as his hand connected with her wet mound. Her cry was far more erotic this time, higher pitched with a deep indrawn breath at the end.

  “No…you found…my weakness…” She moaned, the coiling within her stomach growing tighter, almost painful. His cock flexed against her, and she knew he was feeling it too, knew he was close to just fucking her mad. Another sharp slap against her cunt, splattering her juices over his palm. “Have mercy on me, Master Justiciar…Please…”

  His cock throbbed at her words, smearing precum on her belly. "Mercy?" he taunted, aching for her as he spoke. “You'll find none of that here, you stubborn little thief!" He slapped her ass again, making the reddened cheek bounce and coating his fingers with her desire.

  "Please…" she moaned, pushing back against his hand, " give you …everything…I’ll tell you everything…just fuck me…”

  "Thought you were hard, didn't you?" he laughed, pushing her onto the floor. He leaned across her back, gripping her wrists and pinning her to the floor. "Where's all your big talk about Justiciar sex slaves now?" His meat rubbed against her drooling slit as he whispered in her ear. “Remember: you begged for this..."

  With a single thrust he drive himself deep into her waiting channel, crying out in pleasure as her walls squeezed around him. "Didn't have it in me, hm?" he growled, biting at her shoulder and the back of her neck. "Maybe you thought you did?" His hips moved, pumping his cock in and out of her, his balls slapping against her with each thrust. "Looks like you do now!"

  One hand did beneath her, caressing up her stomach to cup a breast. "Now talk!" he ordered, pinching her nipple. "Tell your Master Justiciar how much you love being his fuck toy!"

  “Thought you were hard, didn't you?”

  “Don’t think I could possibly be as hard as you.” She rebutted, feeling his hard chest press her into the floor, and his hard hands pinning her wrists, and his hard cock brush her eagerly sex.

  “Remember: you begged for this…”

  There was a brief memory of horror as he spoke the words. She half expected to feel the bite of a needle, or the burning touch of a plasma blade on her skin. You’re not there. You’re not with him. Not anymore. You with Quentin, who loves you, and would never hurt you. His cock pushing into her hungry cunt, and his cry of ecstasy reminded her, this was a game. This was her reclaiming her body and her memories from the horrific grip of the past.

  “Quentin,” She gasped, forgetting the game for just a moment, seeking the love under the layers of playful aggression. His lips were fire on her back and neck, bringing her back to the present. His thrusts filled her, stuffed her, completed her. She moved against him as well as she could, difficult given the way he held her done.

  “Tell your Master Justiciar how much you love being his fuck toy!" He demanded, punctuating his order with a deep thrust. “I didn’t think…ahhh….Justiciar were…fuck….supposed to keep….uhhhh…fuck toys,” She tried toying with him, but he was fucking her so hard and good she couldn’t keep up the playful resistance

  “Tell me…” he growled, squeezing her breast almost cruelly.

  “Fuck me!” She screamed, arching back into him, “Use me…I love being yours…Make me your fuck toy…” Pleasure flooded her mind, gripping her body and his cock between velvety inner walls. She went wild beneath him, desperate to find her release, grinding and bucking along his shaft.

  “Redeem me with your cock! Cleanse me with your seed! Fuck me, Master Justiciar!!!”

  Suddenly, just as Quentin felt her orgasm building, he stopped. Leaving Kaydia moaning and writhing in frustration, he pulled out and rolled her over. She lay before him, sprawled on the floor, eying him with a wild expressiin of need and desire, and she writhed against him as he leaned over her. "I can't cleanse you with my cock, Kaydia," he whispered, kissing her lips gently and stroking her cheek. "You don't need redemption, or cleaning."

  Another gentle, soft kiss as he ignored his own burning need. "Whatever was done to you, you're still my beautiful Kaydia." Another soft kiss. "My love," yet another kiss, "and my lover." Bracing himself on his elbows, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, lingering over her this time. "Now and forever, Kaydia. My beautiful Kaydia."

  He smiled fondly down at her, his face close enough to feel the heat of his lips on hers, and that expression didn't change as his hot, throbbing meat drove deep into her slit once more. But he gasped in pleasure, eyes closing as his full length buried itself within her walls, his arms slid beneath her, pulling her body tight to his as his hips rocked and his
meat slid back and forth, back and forth, speed increasing with every thrust.

  "Cum for me, Kaydia," he whispered. "Cum with me."

  Kaydia wanted to protest as Quentin withdrew from her, to lecture her about her worth. Ensure him it was just a game, that she was just playing. But, it wasn’t just playful words, was it? She hadn’t been entirely acting, had she? Of course he would feel the deep seated ache in her words, as she tried to reconcile what Linora had put her through with Quentin’s love.

  She felt the tears come up, fed by her pain of captivity, and the happiness of having Quentin back, and the physical need cause by her delayed orgasm. “I love you, Quentin,” She sobbed, arms wrapped around his back, “I love you, and I need your love.”

  He didn’t keep her waiting long, embracing her with his body and his love. Her fingers dug into his back as he drove into her soft heat, legs hooking behind his thighs to keep him close. Desperate need from the last year and a half came though, in her cries and moans, in her fingertips clinging to him, in her hungry kisses.

  “Quentin,” She exhaled, between sobbing moans that matched his rhythm within her. “Quentin…Fuck…I’m close.” Her hips moving alongside his, her ankles moving up his thighs and ass, trembling with yearning. She wanted to wait until she felt the throb of his climax to unleash her release, but each second and each thrust challenged her resolve. “Fill me with you love,” she begged, as her body rebelled against her willpower, “I want to feel it…”

  Quentin sank into her emotions, filling himself with her love and her feeling of safety and warmth, and with her desire. He poured his own emotions out as he did - his love for her, the amazed gratitude he still felt for finding her alive, and even his bitter self-reproach for not having found her sooner. And, of course, his own craving for the touch of her skin and the heat of her flesh. His love for her wasn't platonic, after all, and he saw no reason that she shouldn’t know that he craved her entirely. Mind and body.