Prey for Me

[Jalek Sathora]

Tattooed fingers reached up to probe the collar about an equally ink-covered neck, searching for a safety catch or some way to release the mechanism, effectively freeing him at least partially from what captivity he had found himself in. The next step would be working at the stun-cuffs that bound his wrists together, and finally he would have to find some way past the guards and out of the cell. All of this was easier said than done, and he knew the chances of any of this working out to his favor were slim to none. Still, it was in his nature to try even if he was severely outmatched, if only to assure himself that he’d done everything possible before becoming more or less resigned until someone or something else worth noting happened. Until then he would play his cards with a careful eye kept on his surroundings, always watchful for any present dangers.

Unfortunately to most, situations like this weren’t altogether uncommon for Jalek. Before his run-in with the Ravens and the Chiss that he had been seeking out, he’d worked with and for a number of gangs on the sprawling city-world of Taris. That inevitably meant that he often fell victim to the imprisonment and mercy of those rival groups that populated the streets just as heavily as those he considered ally. Such scenarios led to his spending time in a variety of locations, some more secure than others, that same unseen threat always present just beneath the surface. Each had their own assortment of guards and security measures meant to keep him and the other prisoners in check, and each varied when it came to the general cleanliness of the facility and how well-kept and monitored each was. But they all had one thing in common: the nearly overwhelming feeling of imminent death.

However, this prison was about average when it came to most every facet. It wasn’t too clean, nor was it extremely dirty and unkempt in any sense. The cells were of typical size, suited for one sentient of or near human size, though in a few there were a number of beings cramped inside. Guards that always inhabited any secure facility like flies were stationed outside of every cell, stoic and silent, various weapons held firmly in what passed for hands or similar grasping appendages across species. What was a bit unusual was the method of keeping him restrained and under control. It wasn’t the metal that encircled his wrists, no. it was what he’d identified as a Force suppression collar firmly locked about his neck. The needles that covered the inside at equal distances bit into his skin, the pain stubbornly there no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Attempting to reach out with the Force once again despite knowing that, for the most part, it would be a failed effort, he stumbled slightly as a wave of nausea and dizziness overtook him thanks to the chemicals dispersed through the collar. His jaw clenched, and he leaned heavily against the cold texture of the nearby wall, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. Eventually the sickness passed, and he managed to stand straight once again, swaying slightly in place. Noted, that wasn’t the best or most acceptable strategy. But he couldn’t very well give in, or simply allow himself to be carted off to whatever was deemed acceptable for his next enclosure. However, there wasn’t much else to do other than wait, despite his frustration at his relative helplessness. So, muttering a string of curses, he let himself slide slowly down the wall into a sitting position, his arms resting on his knees, staring straight ahead.

Once again his slicing had gotten him into trouble. No surprise, there. This job hadn’t been much bigger than any others, or any more dangerous. The consequences if he were caught hadn’t been anything special either, but that didn’t mean he liked them any more than what others available. To put it simply, he had been attempting to crack into the mainframe of what was known as the CRC. And he had, mostly successfully. Well, until he’d gotten caught, that is. After that, things went considerably more downhill at a faster and faster rate each second. Shortly he had wound up here, cuffed and collared with no place to go and nothing to do but wait. The muscles of his jaw ticced, the nearly invisible movement a product of his frustration and nothing more. “Hey,” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat before continuing, “Tell Cryax to get down here. I’d like to have a talk.”

[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

To effectively safeguard a network from the best slicer’s in the galaxy, it took more than keen technical know-how. It also took confidence, prescience, and an analytic mind that thought three steps ahead of one’s enemy. In other words, it took a slicer like Cryax Bane. Bane himself installed the hardware, and set up the systems that ran the Coruscant Rotary Club’s network of computers, and when safeguarding those networks, the Chiss slicer made sure that no digital stone was left unturned. Data was heavily encrypted, traffic was carefully monitored and firewalls were air tight. In the world of slicing, Cryax Bane was one of the best in galaxy. In Force-user’s terms, if Cryax were a Jedi, he would easily be a Master.

Even with all those counter slicing measures, no network was failsafe, and soon a ghost had been found in the wires. A ghost from the Chiss slicer’s past, when he was still a criminal, but one who didn’t get his hands quite so dirty. In a few days, the ghost was traced, followed, incapacitated with a stun net, and hauled down to the basement of the Coruscant Tourist’s and Visitor’s Center, where he awaited his fate. A fate that Bane was currently agonizing over as he watched the Holo-camera footage of his ex-boyfriend in the center’s holding pen, a cell usually reserved slaves headed for the auction block.

A CRC prison guard’s baritone came over his comlink.

“Boss, the mouthy slicer we just caught is askin’ for ya. Should I slap ‘im around the chops a bit?”

“No,” the Chiss shot back. “Leave him be.”

Bane took the turbolift down to the basement and stood at the entrance to the basement floor. He let out a long sigh and then proceeded to the cell that held Jalek Sathora. These days, Cryax generally felt as if he were impervious to pain, both physical and emotional. Whether he was the one causing it or bearing it, it was simply a part of his daily life, much like eating and breathing. Pain was the one constant in his life, and the vicious little bastard he had become was numb to it.

The sight of the other slicer made him question that very assumption.

However raw his insides were, the inner turmoil didn’t show. Impenetrable blood red eyes bore into the man in the cell.

“Haven’t I done enough damage to you already?”

[member="Jalek Sathora"]

 

[Jalek Sathora]

For a moment it seemed as if Jalek hadn't quite heard the question that had been asked or otherwise registered the fact that he wasn't exactly alone anymore. It was intentional, his own sort of game that he played, this nonchalance. Sure, most times it was nothing more than an act, but the trick of it all was not letting anyone else know that. And if they didn't, all the better. The tactic seemed to make others question their actions, second-guess whether they were making the right move or whether they should rethink what they were about to say or do. It was useful against many, especially those others that inhabited the criminal underworld. It was useful, until one of those people you encountered was [member="Cryax Bane"]. Then the strategy and all similar were all but thrown out of the nearest window. This was one that required a special touch.

What kind of special touch? A time or two ago it had been a gentle caress, whispered assurances and the soft brush of lips across a blue-skinned cheek. It had been the gentle intertwining of fingers, a squeeze of the hand, the comforting pressure and warmth of a hand rested on a knee beneath the table. In more private venues it had been fingers tangled in hair, rough kisses and further unmentionable activities. Once upon a time, it had been many things, pleasant things. Things he wouldn't mind doing again, if just to see the responses his actions elicited once more, to hear that whispered 'I love you' and the quiet, clicking phrase in Cheunh that followed. To be able to hold this man in his arms and be held again, he would give almost anything. Almost.

Now things were different. Soft caresses and hand-holding beneath the table had turned into stun nets and prison cells, and just like that the world seemed undone. It hadn't been an easy thing, letting Cryax go, and he'd be lying if he said he still didn't kick himself for it most days. But, however much he regretted his decision and continued to do so, it had been a necessary thing. There was something that he could sense, the entire time they were together, a quiet darkness brooding just beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to escape. And when it did, he knew that things would never be the same between the two of them again. And so he'd left without another word, not because he'd tired of the man, but because he didn't want to see what the Chiss would become. Cowardly? Maybe. Good luck getting him to admit that.

Just hearing that voice again, that unnerving blend of alto and tenor that communicated both confidence and determination was enough to bring back a flood of memories. Glimpses of better times, before any of them had even considered crossing the line that brought them here. When they had still been friends, rivals, lovers. Now all of that was shattered, in its place a guarded caution, emotional and mental walls built up where once there had been nothing but ash and dust. It had been the same before, when the two had first crossed paths, but the brave face had only lasted so long once Cryax was stuck alone with him. That issue had been quickly remedied with his silver tongue which also chanced to be his greatest bane.

There wasn't an easy way to answer him. No one-word response or snarky comment that could completely dissipate the tension, the unease. For once, he didn't know what to say. What was the exact definition of enough, anyway? It was subjective. He'd been through hell in his life plenty of times, so it was all a bit skewed to him. Enough was when his lover was so corrupted by himself and others that he tried to kill the man he lay with in the bed they shared. Enough was when the man he loved more than anything was slowly becoming less and less himself until he was barely recognizable. Enough was...enough. "What are you talking about, the stun net, cuffs or this?" Still he retorted with his own brand of sarcasm, fingers, still slightly trembling from the aftereffects of the chemicals in his bloodstream, found the Force suppression collar once more. "The cell's not half bad, for once. I could get used to it."

 

[Cryax Bane]

“Be careful what you wish for, Jalek.” he shot back. “You might find yourself rotting away in it.”

Cryax’s voice echoing through the corridor sparked a few words of begging from some of the other would-be slaves in nearby cells. One human in particular began repeating his tearful pleas over and over in a frenetic tone.

“Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.”

Cryax momentarily disappeared from Jalek’s view. Then the hiss of an opening door followed by blaster fire and a thump could be heard in succession. The Chiss promptly returned to Jalek’s cell, his garnet eyes vacant for a moment as he raised his gaze to face down the captive Morellian. Running his fingers through his messy blue-black hair, his face impulsively turned, like fruit going sour. The ghost opposite him stared back with that same recalcitrant expression Cryax remembered so well. Breaking down that veneer used to be one of his favorite games, but now the game seemed rigged. Jalek’s mocking tone was just that. Mocking. The question began to take shape in his grey matter. Should the ghost be exorcised once and for all?

“Dare I ask what you could possibly want with encrypted Coruscant Rotary Club files?" he spat, then let out a dramatic sigh. "Or were you just looking for my relationship status?”

Bane dropped his gaze and contemplated the floor for a spell. The Chiss suddenly turned, and with a vicious jab, punched the adjacent wall as hard as he could. Blood blossomed on his blue knuckles, blooming through the shredded skin and staining the basement floor. He shook his hand and then wiped the blood on his pants.

“By the way, if you really want to know. My status is, ‘It’s Complicated.’”

[member="Jalek Sathora"]

 

[Jalek Sathora]

His jade gaze remained impassive, untelling of the thoughts that were processing in that deceptively intelligent mind. Despite the turmoil that was his emotions his analytic brain was busy calculating what his current options were in the way of survival. It was a pity he never really listened to that common sense, because it would do wonders for his self-preservation, if only he would let it. Unfortunately, Jalek was a man that liked to live in the moment, however lethal it was. The better part of him knew that Cryax had likely moved on, and this was nothing more than the final steps in taking care of what had been unfinished business. But, just as with common sense, he rarely acknowledged that better half. All the signs he needed were already staring him in the face, and quite literally so.

The blaster shot and subsequent loss of life didn't concern him. Before in his life he had bore witness to many an impromptu execution, and this was no different. What got under his skin was the man behind his weapon, one he couldn't ever recall stooping to murder so easily. There had been a few times he'd been driven to such, out of protection of both himself and the tattooed Morellian currently sitting in the cell. Now it seemed the weapon was drawn and fired on a whim, something he would have been careful of watching out for if he didn't know the Chiss better than the man seemed to know himself. There was an uncertainty in Cryax's actions for a reason. However much he wouldn't admit it, the feelings were still there between them.

It would be stupid of him to deny that he didn't feel the same about the crimson-eyed mess of a man staring him down, but he knew better than to get too attached to this sort of individual. It would only end in pain, in this case for his party rather than any other. And, despite his general wanton attitude, he was rather fond of keeping his life for the moment. Living for seven decades and then some hadn't been quite enough of an experience just yet. But right then he wanted to try his hand once more at wearing down the Chiss, poking and prodding at his defenses until they disintegrated with no further warning. It had been a game once, and it still was, though of the more dangerous sort. One wrong move had the capacity to earn him a blaster bolt between the eyes. He always did like living on the edge.

"This seem familiar to you? The last time you had me in cuffs you ended up taking me home for the night, if I remember correctly. I could get with that again." The definition of 'taking things slowly' was hardly in his vocabulary. It was all or nothing, and this time it was most certainly all. This was reminiscent of how their relationship had been born in the first place. Little slicing mishaps that were purely for fun had become less and less coincidental until it was blatantly obvious they both had feelings for the other. He knew this time around that things wouldn't work out so favorably. It would be a miracle if he managed to survive these talks in one piece, at the rate he was going. A smarter man wouldn't have been quite so brazen. While he was smart, most definitely so, that wasn't his strongest virtue in that moment.

A crooked grin made it past his otherwise tough facade, the same one he'd worn on countless other occasions. Once upon a time it had served to all but melt the man in front of him. Now that same man was an impenetrable wall. "Don't worry, I'm still not working for the Suns." That was an old one, ressurected from the first few days of their being together. It had been a running gag for awhile, until things had become far more sincere and meaningful between the couple. Now they were straight back to square one, perhaps even far before that, impossibly far before. What square was it when one's former lover likely wouldn't hesitate to kill you without any rhyme or reason? At any rate, it likely delved far into the negative numbers.

"I cracked in to check up on you. It's been awhile, ch'eo ch'acah." It almost broke him down, speaking that final phrase in Cheunh, and he let those two words hang in the air for what seemed like eternity, swallowing before he continued, "You really think I could let you go that easily? I loved you, Cryax. Hell, I still do. It's not that simple for me to walk away from a man that I was perfectly content to spend the rest of my life with, however long that might last. I wanted you, just you, more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life. You weren't like the others, and you still aren't. I don't know if that means anything, and I guess I don't really care. I could have chosen any man in the galaxy, but I stuck with you. I know we had our rough patches and I karked up a few times, but it was always us. What the hell happened?"

For once in his life he was being entirely genuine, something that didn't come easily given his habitual white lies that had been a part of his life since childhood. But Cryax was a man that broke down his defenses until they were entirely worthless. And despite the rift between them and his resistance against the other male, he was still perfectly capable of doing so. It was a frustrating thing, yet something he wouldn't want any other way. Not for the first time he was at odds with how he felt. "Don't try to threaten me, because we both know I can still clean you up. Or do you not remember how to deal cards?" There it was, his automatic self-defense in the form of the spoken word. Sometimes it took far more than that to fix things. And then there were things like this which were entirely irreparable.

[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

“Don’t do this to me, Jalek. Last time I checked, you left me, remember? Now you...”

Bane’s voice suddenly trailed off, leaving only the faint sound of sobbing prisoners. Expressing his emotions was never his strong suit. Did Jalek really want him back? It was an inconceivable notion. Bane had left his old life in the jetstream of a ship about to punch into lightspeed, and for better or worse, but mostly for worse, he was a changed Chiss. Or maybe he had not changed at all, and he was simply becoming increasingly less interested in trotting out the smoke and mirrors that had previously concealed his damaged personality. Either way, he dropped his gaze. It hurt too much to look at the man, and to have the Morrellian witness what he had become.

It wasn’t as if the self-loathing was constant. The Sith treated him like a sacred cow and the Coruscant Underworld treated him like a king. He was...happy? No, happy wasn’t the word, but Cryax wasn’t looking over his shoulder constantly, concerned about a coup or a back-stabbing. He didn’t feel like he was living on borrowed time, and best of all, he was unbridled from the restraints of public image or wagging fingers. He could live as despicably as he wanted and partake in every seedy vice imaginable, reveling in his life’s own decay. The price of his soul was a bargain for the kind of freedom he enjoyed.

Bane’s nostrils flared as he finally found his words again. He released an arrogant huff of air, gesturing to the surrounding people pens.

“Is this the life you want for yourself? Helping me with the slaving and organ farming? You wanna hold the padawan steady while I slit him open? Come on, time’s a’wasting...that Sith Lord’s going to be angry if he doesn’t get his midichlorian-rich kidney.”

His hand hovered over his blaster, his blue fingers twitching.

“Seriously, Jalek. Did you really think I wasn't going to kill you if I found you karking around in my networks?”

[member="Jalek Sathora"]

 

[Jalek Sathora]

For a second, just a split second, Jalek saw that wall begin to crack. Slowly, ever so slowly, it was as if things were turning back to how they had been. As if maybe, for a moment, he could pretend that this was all just a nightmare he would wake up from. But just as quickly that change reversed itself, turning back on its head and reminding him just as quickly that no, this wasn't the man he'd known previously, and that things would never be the same between them. But he knew, somewhere inside of him, that all it would take to change that would be the flip of a switch. The press of one right button could change this all back to how it had been. All he had to do was find that button. Of course, it was easier when such a thing wasn't reminiscent of diffusing a bomb. One wrong wire cut, and the entire place would collapse on his head.

But talking had always been something he was good at, excessively and beyond what was recommended if he wished to survive for any exponential amount of time. Sure, he had a Morellian's lifespan, but it was almost poetic justice that he had the potential to talk himself out of his own life as easily as he could do the opposite. Once upon a time his silver tongue had been the only thing he needed to break the Chiss down, both mentally and physically. Now those old tricks were useless, and it was as if he were back to bargaining with another crime lord for nothing more than his immediate survival. And it would have been simple, if it was just another crime lord. He wouldn't have cared as much, for one. Or at all, really, for the other individual. But now that crime lord was Cryax, a seemingly merciless figure, though he had a funny way of faltering whenever the redhead spoke.

Now was the time to ask himself if this was all really worth it in the first place. Was it not a waste of his time to go running back to a man that had nearly killed him before and now seemed unflinching of doing the same again, only this time permanently? Was that not a fool's errand to begin with, something only the stupidest of sentients would deign to do? So why, why did he feel compelled to say that yes, the only one he wanted was this man, him and nothing else? Maybe it was his own stupid impulsivity, his tendency to act on ideas as they came to him, rather than sensibly thinking things through. It was how he had always been, before and after he and Cryax had dated, and likely how he always would be. After all, there was no teaching an old dog new tricks, especially not one that was so stubbornly set in his ways.

All of this was frustrating for him too, beyond measure. Never was he one to allow himself to become excessively annoyed with anything. In fact, he had been the far more level-headed one out of the couple, never exciting over any issue, no matter how big or small. It had been one of his redeeming traits, and likely one of the only reasons Cryax had bothered in keeping him around. But, with the words spoken so easily by the other man, and threats nonetheless, that easygoing demeanor was pushed aside to reveal a more potent and decidedly more dangerous side of the Morellian that hardly anyone chanced to witness. Not because he hadn't possessed a more lethal side to him beforehand, but because it was extremely difficult and tedious to dredge up. Cryax's words hit home, and he wouldn't waste time in letting the man know that.

Pushing himself to his feet, unsteady for a moment, he stepped up to the door of the cell. "C'mon then, Cryax," No more affectionate nicknames, no more trying to smooth things over, "Shoot me. Right now. I dare you." A half-smile that didn't quite harbor its same sense of carelessness turned up one corner of his mouth. "You don't have the guts. You wouldn't dare kill me, because we both know you can't make yourself do it. You might not admit it, but you still care about me. Somewhere in that sorry excuse for a heart you have, you still care about me. But c'mon, prove me wrong. Pull the trigger, Blue. End it all." He was pushing the boundaries of his own patience and that of the Chiss, he knew that perfectly well. But it wasn't worth it anymore. Not even his self-preservation was salient enough to remind him that hey, maybe miffing this particular crime boss wasn't his wisest decision if he wanted to keep breathing. But he pushed away whatever iota of common sense attempted to come to the surface. Now wasn't the time.

There he stood, in a position he never imagined himself in, at least with this particular man. He was baring his soul to one that didn't deserve the honor anymore, saying words that wouldn't have dared pass his lips in any other scenario. Even he wasn't quite so ignorant. But there were certain people that had the tendency to push even the nicest guy so far, and he'd found that one special person. Never had he imagined it would be the one he'd thought to be his former soulmate. Never in his wildest dreams had he conceived standing and asking the man to kill him, daring him to make the next move, if only he had the steel in his spine to do so. Life had a funny way of surprising even the most forethoughtful individuals.

[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

Cryax clicked off the safety on his pistol. For a few tense moments, he held it steady, aiming right between Jalek’s eyes. His arms trembled with rage. Then, he dropped his arm to his side, relaxing his death grip on the blaster. Next, Cryax took a syringe out of his pocket, inspected its contents, and then stuck it in his bicep. The stimshots would catch up with him eventually, but right now it wasn’t wise to sleep with a fresh five-million credit bounty on his head. With his eyes closed and his head lolling back, he inhaled sharply as the chemicals flooded his system. The Chiss raised an exasperated gaze to his captive ex-boyfriend.

“Do you even know how much Force sensitive organs go for on the Coruscant black market?” He asked with a morbid smirk, his red eyes wandering down to the places where Jalek’s liver, kidneys and spleen lived.

“How much you are worth.”

The language of commodity was the only tongue Bane spoke these days. It was as natural to him as eating or breathing. There was silence in the corridor as the prisoners gleaned their fate from the conversation. The silence of the damned. Cryax continued, his tone almost casual, as if he wasn’t about to take a scalpel to someone’s belly.

"Cut the martyr act, Jalek. Yes, I’ll admit it. I still care about you. Enough to spare your life anyway. Happy now?"

Blue-skinned fingers touched the controls on the wall next to Jalek's cell, releasing the Morellian from his captivity. He did not remove the Force suppression collar. Jalek wasn’t the strongest Force user by any stretch, but the red-haired slicer definitely had enough power to hurt the Chiss if he wanted to.

Cryax put his blaster in its holster and gestured for Jalek to exit his open cell.

“It’s too late now. I buried us. You should too.”


[member="Jalek Sathora"]

 

[Jalek Sathora]

The muscles of his jaw worked for a moment as Jalek considered his options, for once in his life maintaining a more or less serious composure for longer than two seconds. Not that his options were extravagant by any means. At this point it was either obey Cryax or get killed somewhere in the process of his typical disobedience. As much as he did enjoy pushing the limits of his own personal safety, he was rather fond of living for the time being. After all, it was what allowed him to continue seeing just how far he could poke and prod the Chiss before he completely lost his cool. That time had nearly been short in coming before, but he'd caught it, in the seconds before the weapon had been lowered. There was a glimmer of hesitation in the man's eyes, the same face he had worn on other occasions in the past when he had handled a blaster. A look of hesitation mingled with that ever-present frustration that had been common during their time together.

Begrudgingly he stepped from the confines of the cell, hands still cuffed in front of him and collar still firmly locked about his neck. Unsurprising, given that he'd estimated himself still capable of making short work of Cryax if this came to a barehanded combat scenario. Street-fighting wasn't the fairest thing, but it was what he was good at. It was vaguely amusing that it only took that much to make the other man wary. Imagine if he'd actually been able of truly accessing his Force abilities. But apparently, despite his lack of talent when it came to manipulating the energy field, he was still worth something. Just not quite what he'd imagined. "What martyr act? I wouldn't call this much of a cause." Of course, it nearly felt like a prolonged battle, getting Cryax to see sense. Toying with him used to be fun, now it was nigh an exhausting trial.

It would have been a viable tactic, all told, to snatch the pistol from the holster at his warden's side and take it for his own. However, given that there were guards that could be called down at the press of a button, and fully armed nonetheless, he didn't feel like pushing his luck. Besides, if it came down to it, he knew that he would falter just as Cryax had. There were still feelings there, no doubt about it, though they were cleverly disguised behind thin layers of what could be called resentment. A shame he was able to see right through any act. In their time as a couple he had learned to read the other as easily as an open book. "On the contrary, do you know how much people would pay to have you dead? It goes both ways. Unfortunately I'm not much of a bounty hunter." Okay, so maybe not so subtly threatening to kill the man wasn't his best or wisest decision, but he'd never really bothered with common sense.

Just as when they had first crossed paths he absently clicked that same tongue piercing against his teeth, the metallic click seeming to echo in the hollow silence that filled the cells. Old habits died hard, but he'd never let go of them to begin with. It was so much more fun to run with things, to meddle with them time and time again, never quite becoming completely bored, always finding some new method of entertainment. This was no different. "The last time you asked if I was happy we were boyfriends. Does it seem ironic to anyone else that this is the opposite now?" Raising an eyebrow he shrugged, jade eyes cutting to Cryax with a crooked grin. "Of course, you always were too easy to convince. If I cared any more I'd try and change your mind. Maybe if you asked nicely I would again." More like than not he would anyhow, but it always was fun toying with him.

His eyes wandered nonchalantly to linger on Cryax's lips for a few long moments. Impulsivity was his strong suit, after all, and there wasn't a point in not exploiting it. Despite the fact that his hands were still bound by metal at the wrists he reached up to grip the sides of his jaw with both hands, emerald gaze meeting the crimson one before he pressed their lips together in a rough, almost hungry kiss, refusing to pull away until it was absolutely necessary. Perhaps the action had been uncalled for, but his entire life had been comprised of rash actions that chanced to turn to happy accidents if he was particularly lucky that day. Otherwise, well, he didn't much like to dwell on the alternatives. It made living in the moment so much more dull to deal with.

"So, you buried us, huh? Somehow I find that hard to believe."

[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

"I'm well aware of the number of my enemies as well as the price on my head," Cryax said, his tone laced with sarcasm. " But thank you for the reminder."

He carefully watched the Morrelian, making sure the man made no false moves, then gestured to the surrounding people pens, while smirking at his ex.

"I don't need a cell to feel like a prisoner here on Coruscant."

The kiss was almost surreal, and always a slave to his weaknesses, Bane yielded to it. Of course, there was the strong temptation to fall back into old habits. To take the man into his arms, and finish what they started. But his pride was still too wounded by the other man's abandonment, and his fuse was much too short for his own good. As their lips parted, Bane half-expected to see the flashing neon lights of the Dragon Palace Casino or the spray of stars over the Antecedent skyline. When the kiss ended, Cryax fished around for the fastener on Jalek's cuffs and unbound his wrists.

"Believe it," said the Chiss. His expression was unconvincing. His red eyes still held an ocean of hurt.

"You're free to go, Jalek. The droids will see you out."

[member="Jalek Sathora"]

 

[Jalek Sathora]

If there ever was a sensation to dredge up feelings of nostalgia, it was the feeling of their lips pressed together. The moment seemed to last for eternity, but even that wasn't long enough, and as they separated Jalek found himself incessantly wanting more. It was in that same moment the cuffs were disengaged, and he took a moment to rub his wrists as circulation returned in a rush. Even the prospect of near-complete freedom, sans the collar still fastened about his neck, wasn't enough to dissuade him from his close proximity of the Chiss. The mere want to have things as they once were, with Cryax like putty in his hands and he the same in return, was an indescribable thing. Life had been easier that way, the both of them content with nothing more than being in each other's arms. Now the game had changed, and no longer did the key fit in the lock as it once had. Not when the lock was broken.

His fingers found the Force suppression collar once more, but he didn't comment on the removal of such just yet. That would come later, he knew, once he was safely away from his captor. But there was an unspoken need there, not only in the words spoken but behind those crimson eyes, always lingering, never quite retreating behind closed doors. It was something he knew Cryax was painfully aware of but unable to do anything about, something he longed to change but at the same time never wanted gone. Because, contrary to what his ever-analytic mind might tell him, his heart was pounding out another rhythm. Against all rationality, there was something inside that wanted the Morellian back, regardless of what may have transpired between them. And those sentiments were returned one in the same, though he didn't bother to even attempt to disguise them.

"What, you're not going to escort me out?" Using his words as something akin to a distraction, he toyed with the other man's fingers gently, almost hesitantly, still testing the waters. It was another kind of game, reverting back to how they used to be, showing that same kind of affection though in a kinder way, being careful to not be quite so rough. With someone like this it was always better to take things slowly, easing into things, not moving too fast lest he press a wrong button and have to start over again. This was a careful, tenuous thing, something not to be taken lightly despite his typical rebellious attitude. However much he wanted to pretend that things were still the same, that he could get away with all that he had been able to previously, he knew that nothing on either of their parts would accomplish such a momentous task. This was one rift that was far beyond any sort of repair.

Once again he kissed Cryax, one hand tangling in his hair, the other driving him back against the wall, their embrace never once wavering. Only when the both of them had to breathe did he break away, just barely, their lips centimeters apart. "I don't believe you. You'll have to do better than that." Without waiting for any sort of response he kissed him again, this time allowing himself to stray just slightly, tracing his lips down the sensitive skin of Cryax's jaw. Just as quickly he returned to his lips, still not giving him even a split second to object or otherwise protest. Finally he pulled away with a breathless, crooked grin, ever slightly loosening his grip on the other man. "Come on, prove me wrong. Because, see, I know you still want me. You can talk big game, but you still want me." He let their lips hover on the verge of pressing together again, not quite making contact, allowing Cryax to make a move by himself.

This was his own sort of test, seeing just how well the Chiss could hold up to his own word while being tempted with all that he'd given into just moments previous. And, well, it was his own way of proving the man wrong and showing him just how backwards he was when it came to his own assumptions. "Are you not going to give me my own bounty to match? I'm disappointed, Cryax." Not that he necessarily needed a price on his head, given how difficult it already was to navigate Coruscant and not avoid suspicious. That task was made even more difficult by his decision to come here. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.

[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

Same old Jalek. As long as Cryax had known him, the Morellian was never one to follow orders, or do what he was told, even by Bane himself. Especially by Bane himself. Surprisingly, Jalek’s obstinacy was one of the things Cryax had found especially endearing about the slicer. Sathora was frustrating, challenging, and yes, sometimes even annoying, but he was never dull or predictable. As soon as Jalek started in with his usual attitude, Cryax’s eyes shot to the exit sign.

“You’re a big boy. You don’t need an escort.”

Cryax felt the man’s slim fingers softly intertwining with his, and he returned the affection, letting their hands knot together for a moment. One part of him melted. The other part still remembered what it felt like to lose the other man, and to suspect that his own failures were the catalyst. Still, he let the scenario play out in his head. To invite his ex-boyfriend back into his present life would be complicated at best. There were others he had become attached to, for lack of a better phrase, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up those other preoccupations, as hedonistic as they were. There was also the matter of his new pursuits with the CRC, especially the organ theft and slaving. Both trades would be a tough sell. Although right now the man didn’t seem to give a damn about what he did for a living.

His thoughts were interrupted by another kiss, and it caught Cryax completely off guard. He was was unable to stop Jaleks’ kisses. Nor did he want to. But once they ended, he did not return them. His decision to let the Morellian walk away was irrevocable. Perhaps it was time to twist the knife in. The Chiss disengaged his hand and lifted it to Jalek’s cheek, in a mock-tender gesture, his red eyes flashing with spite.

“If you want to take your turn in the revolving door of lovers, I’ll put you in my Datapad down for Tuesday.”

His hand dropped and he crossed his arms, looking squarely at his ex, one brow quirked in a defiant challenge.

[member="Jalek Sathora"]