Kregg bumped his head against the black wooden backboard. He let out a grumble of pain, though it numbed quickly under a steady pulse of pleasure. The walls pulsed too, just as he did, vibrating under the stress of the blaring of the Hutt's band somewhere else on the barge. A stupid smile crept across his face as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

His skin chilled when Xira threw up the sheets and crawled over, curling up beside him.

"I missed that," he said as she cupped his jaw.

"No." She thumped her middle finger against his lips to shush him. "I missed that. You've been gone too long. Imagine how much-"

"Don't give me that." He kissed her. When she did the same, she dug the sharp points of her teeth into his lips. He always liked that. "I'm not getting any younger, either. Any faster and they'd be dumping me out the cargo bay."

She clasped both her hands into his shoulders, her nails clawing deep into his sinewy flesh, and straddled him. Xira had been lighter than even the daintiest of feathers before, but there had still been the feeling of flesh-against-flesh back then. Her touch was light as ever, and Kregg felt only the bulging contours of her bones as they poked against him like pins.

"Do you have any inkling when this ride's gonna be over?" Kregg said as Xira buried her face against his neck. He felt her tongue snake its way out, trailing over the tender skin. She was moving her way up, taking her time, until she coiled her way back to his lips.

"Do you want it to be?"

He cracked a smile and leaned in to kiss her again. She returned with an attack of her own. Her fangs pricked at the soft skin of his lips like needles. One time before she had drawn blood, and not by accident. He reached out to grope her. His fingers grazed at her ribs instead.

Xira grabbed his hand and gently nudged it up. "There you go," she whispered. There, his hand clasped around softer, plusher flesh, each of his fingers digging into it like dough. His thumb swirled as it found a nipple, which hardened underneath. He felt himself harden and rise...

"Give him five minutes alone and he's back behind the wheel." The soft cadence of Arvis Xiu spread rime across the walls and set a chill upon the air.

Kregg winced as Xira slid off of him, easing back against the headboard to his right, silent as a prowling nexu. Dammit. Twice they'd gone at it, and still he was left as disappointed as if they had done nothing at all.

The fat Pantoran waddled in to the private suite, his hands clasped behind his back. He reeked of spirits, and an orange stain had splotched his velvets in the hour Kregg had left him. Twyla entered behind him, walking in with slow strides. Her hips swooshed in and out with every step. Kregg never saw her heels touch the ground. "We will be landing soon, my friends, and unfortunately that means the slaves must return to their pens."

Xira let out a groan, half-playful, half-indignant. "So soon? I only just got him." The tone of her voice was a stark contrast to the glare in her eyes. Arvis Xiu had been the one to put her in fetters, by his own suggestion. The Fat Minister would have sooner let his beast finish her off.

Arvis let out a chirping titter. "Worry not, dear warrior queen. You'll be a slave no more soon enough."

"One more night of this indignity," Twyla muttered. She stepped out from behind Arvis and sprawled herself down across the bed, staring up at Kregg with her giant eyes. She smirked, then turned to Xira. "Then it's all over."

"Speak for yourself," Xira said. "Suffering builds character. Though that's not something I would expect a spoiled Twi'lek schutta to understand."

Twyla giggled at that, gently raising a hand to her mouth. "And you, wild card. Don't fek this up." She gave Kregg a mischievous smile. "Do I need to give the boys another reminder?"

"No, I quite understood the first time." The whole of his pelvis still coursed with pain where she'd planted a foot in between his thighs. "Fek off so we can get dressed before they land this thing."

"Not like she has much dressing to do." Twyla rolled her eyes then rolled over on her back towards Xira's end of the bed. She was upside down looking up into the other woman's face, her scrawny lekku lying limp against the cover. "Tell me, how's he put out?"

In the blink of an eye, she was gasping for air as Xira coiled her legs around her throat. "Wouldn't daddy's little whore like to know? One day you'll find out what it's like to have a man. 'Til then, back off."

"Or... or... what?" Twyla choked out each word. The deep scarlet of her cheeks had gone pale pink. Arvis was dragging her away by the legs soon enough after shouting for Xira to let her go. When she got to her feet, Twyla gave Arvis a shove towards the hallway, in between coughing fits.

When they were gone, Kregg wrestled his legs from the trappings of the bedding and got to his feet. His legs felt like they would buckle beneath him as he stood. Too many years crammed in cockpits and cargo holds. He stooped to pick his clothes up from the floor and a sharp prickle ebbed from the small of his back. Xira giggled.

"Aye, shut it, you giggly little girl." He cocked his head over his shoulder and smiled at her. She had the covers pulled up to her cheeks and her eyes were wide with mirth. "My fekkin legs. I'm too old for this shite, woman." He started sliding on his smallclothes, then his nerfskin breeches.

"It's okay if you don't have the stamina you used to, Marcus." Xira cast the covers aside and crawled over towards him. She laid down atop her stomach and rested her head on her hands. "I won't tell anyone." She gave him an impish smile.

"Very cute," he said as he finished buttoning his shirt and looping his belt. "It's all you, dear, and you know it. It's me who shouldn't break too easily. Seems the years do it in for all o' us." That reminds me. "Tell me something, Xira sweetling. Did you know I was supposed to be the scapegoat when you sent me over to that wench?" The thought had nagged him ever since his conversation with Twyla, but Kregg had never found the time to ask.

"What did you think they were playing at?" A tangle of black hair fell in front of her face. She twirled it between two fingers. "But I wager legendary smuggler Marcus Kregg, the Ghost of the Core, the Phantom of Byss, the Spectre of Fondor-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, cut the pillow talk, let's get to the chuba." He slid on his jacket. He couldn't help but let a cheeky grin slip as he watched her grimace.

"You have a lot more going on in that head of yours than you let on, you smarmy bastard. Need I remind you, you shouted her name instead of mine."

"Aye, and still I bear the slap you gave me." His cheek still glowed red like molten metal. He poked the wound and it stung like hellfire in response.

"If this woman and her boy do come back..." Xira trailed off and stared at the floor. With a huff, she reared her head back and gave Kregg a hard look. "Tell me, flyboy: you're not losing feelings for me, are you? Least of all for a Jedi? Come on now."

He stooped down in front of her. This time, his hand was cupping her face.

"Xira, my darling warmaiden," he said, planting a firm kiss on her black lips. "My whoring days are long behind me. Besides, she's got a boy. I ain't gettin' in the middle of that, even if he ain't hers. Believe me, I learned that the hard way."

"You're full of poodoo," she laughed. "Help me up." She stuck her hands out and Kregg took them in his. She needed no help from him, never had and never would, but she always asked for the favor and he always found it too heartless to reject her. And, too, when she asked him to fasten her brassiere, who was he to turn her down?

When she was dressed - as dressed as a slave could be, anyhow - he led her out by the hand until they were at the door to her room, across the way from that hideous fountain. Xira had told him it was an exotic substance called "chocolate" that came from a planet on the edge of Wild Space. She'd laughed when he told her it looked more like liquefied ronto dung than dessert.

"Well Marcus," she said as she let go of his hands. She craned in towards his ear. "If this works out," she whispered, "you think she'll take both of us?"

"I love you, Xira Morr." He dodged the question.

"Fek you, Marcus Kregg." She scowled but planted a kiss on his lips all the same. "I love you too, you smuggler scum." She waved him off.

As Kregg walked away, leaving Xira behind yet again, he passed between the two Chevin guards outside the slave pens. This time, they were wide awake. One snorted at his approach.

"I must say," Kregg said as he started down the hallway, "your master has exquisite taste."