Private Starfire and Thorns

[Yoru Iben]

Better I don't answer that.

"Yeah, real eccentric. Fancied himself a treasure hunter, but never did much treasure hunting. Just stole from people." He took a long drag from his cigarette and from over her shoulder looked at her reflection in the window. Yoru picked up the ashtray and began pacing around. "Has this funny accent-" He began to mimic a heavy drawl, "-talks like he's some backwater moisture farmer."

The scrapper stopped his pacing and took a deep breath. Found his temper rising the more he talked about Vasteel's quirks. "Just curious, anyway. If you can tell me anything useful about him, you can forget about paying for fuel." Information was worth more than any amount of credits.

 

[Blackthorne]

It was actually better that he did.

"I've heard the name around," she didn't catch him watching her reflection in the window on account of having her eyes screwed shut against his close proximity and scent. That infernal thump-thumping of his heartbeat in her ears. Her lips didn't part much on account of how badly she'd begun to salivate. Blackthorne swallowed hard, cleared her throat, and lifted her right hand to rub at her temple, "without access to my own files it's hard to say where."

Hard to keep track of the miles after a decade. How her mother remembered anything beyond ten years ago was a skill she'd have liked to learned. Six hundred years of life? Fething hell, thinking about it made her head spin worse than this man's presence did.

"I'll make you a deal. Consider your fuel paid for, and thensome for your troubles back at the bar. If you say yes to my next request, I'll do a deep dive on all my contacts for you on this Vasteel. If you say no, you have to stay the fuck away from me for the rest of this trip."

 

[Yoru Iben]

Now this, this was something! Files! A database of names! Even if she didn't have anything on the man himself, she might point him towards somebody that did. Took every ounce of his being to stop from dancing with joy and accepting her proposal before he even heard it.

"Shoot," he cooly responded and took a drag of his cigarette, holding it to his lips with a hand trembling from excitement.

 

[Blackthorne]

Could damn near feel the pitch of his heartbeat in her own veins. Excitable man trying to play it cool. Made her smirk, briefly.

"I need to feed," she replied without looking at him, "and I don't mean from a nutrient pouch or space rations." Blackthorne sat up, jaw tight under the duress of her limited present self control, "But I am a woman of my word so I would prefer you to be willing. It would be better for you if you were."

 

[Yoru Iben]

Two things crossed Yoru's mind. Firstly, he found the request to be very unpleasant. Second, he really fething wanted that information. His tongue pushed in front of his teeth, pressing against the inside of his lip.

"Feed," he echoed, completely unenthused, "How much do you need?"

 

[Blackthorne]

That was a rather stupid question. Or maybe it wasn't and her fuse was growing ever shorter the longer she had to sit within earshot of his fething heartbeat.

"Enough to keep me from mutilating your corpse," she replied sharply. More sharply than she meant to, but her nerves were just about shot. "There is a method to the practice that keeps my willing meals alive and well. If you follow what I say, you have nothing to worry about."

 

[Yoru Iben]

Yoru slowly blinked and took a long, final drag of his cigarette with a notably steadier hand. The topic of conversation was so unpleasant he'd almost forgot about what he stood to gain. Almost. He put the cigarette out on the ashtray in his other hand.

"Deal," he blew out the smoke in his lungs with a long sigh and set the ashtray on the nearest flat surface. "How's this all work, then?"

 

[Blackthorne]

"You will be tired and weak for a time after, so pick someplace you'll be comfortable sleeping it off. I will tend to the bite when I am finished so I will need bacta or kolto patches ... or some form of medical kit."

She still wasn't looking at him. Better that she didn't, just in case he got cold feet on the matter. If she had to close herself in that bedroom for the rest of the journey, so be it, but the Harrowbane would have one hell of a hangry Captain to deal with when they finally met up.

 

[Yoru Iben]

Yoru nodded along, taking mental notes of her instructions.

"Okay. I'll go prepare what you need." Though a headache he could be, the scrapper flipped his mental switch and treated the situation with the seriousness it deserved. Or, well, the seriousness his wellbeing deserved. He excused himself from the cockpit and went up to the second level. Bacta and kolto were in short supply, as he hadn't been through a proper port lately, but he did have a kit with a mishmash of supplies. He brought it to his personal quarters, and from there, spoke over the ship's speakers to her.

"Come up. Take the first door on the second level. It's unlocked for you."

His quarters were rather bare. A console rested on the desk across from his bunk. On the wall between the windows and his bed was a mounted holoboard that he kept off most of the time, though it was utilized as a secondary display for the computer on his desk. Aside from that, a few keepsakes were scattered about. Behind his bunk was a clear sliding door that led to his personal refresher.

Yoru sat on the bunk as he waited for Thorne to make her way up.

 

[Blackthorne]

A long, slow, centering, deep sigh of breath flushed the growing agitation from her lungs after he exited the cockpit. Ten years ago she would not have even taken the time to explain such things. Would not have given him the option. A younger Dahl would have seized whatever opportune moment she'd have seen and, very likely, she'd have bled him dry and left him to rot in his own ship after finding her way back to her crew.

But at some point during a particularly long period of time spent out traversing the uncharted vastness of wild space, something had shifted in her mindset. Dahl couldn't say exactly what or when or why, but she knew for certain that things were different now. The time he spent preparing the setting was time she spent preparing herself. It was difficult to meditate given everything she'd been through in the last week. A dull, persistent pain in her chest told her that the sleep had not completely healed what needed mending - which perhaps was why her lust for blood had grown so strong.

The moment his voice echoed over the intercom was the moment her level calm drew taught like a strung bow.

A hiss of his door heralding the arrival of Blackthorne didn't take long to wait for. With the blankets still pulled over her shoulders she didn't look much different than she had with her various layers upon layers down on that frozen hellscape of a planet. Though now she was barefoot and looked faintly more alive and viable than she had at the spaceport bar. Still, the palor of her skin left much to be desired. Blackthorne moved into the room without a word and padded across the distance from door to bunk with the same quiet, purposeful stride of a predator intently descending upon its prey.

Baring no physical stop from him, her approach did not falter as she drew upon him, moving fluidly to straddle his legs and take a seat across his lap. To many other men this could have been construed as a sexual advance, but there was nothing sensual about her poise or the way her muscles were drawn tight as steel chords - holding back the savage desire to tear into him unhindered. Didn't show him her teeth, either. The less he knew what was coming, the better. Blackthorne leaned in, hands upon his shoulders, and brushed her face past his own to speak low into his ear, "When you become dizzy or feel faint, take your fingers and run them from the base of my neck down my spine and I will stop. If you try to pull away or push me off, you will only trigger my innate aggression and I will very likely kill you. Do you understand?"

 

[Yoru Iben]

Yoru's foot bounced as he sat there, hunched forward. Then, as Thorne entered and strode across the cold floor then over the carpet under his bunk, he straightened up. He was frightened by her, if only because he'd never met anyone like her. Though her behaviors were odd and the request he agreed to was entirely unpleasant, he found that his heart raced for the wrong reason. There shouldn't have been an ounce of excitement within him, but fright was overcome by anticipation. Anticipation became titillation as she lowered herself onto his lap.

What's happening? Do I smell fine? I can feel her breath against my ear. Did she say she was going to kill me? Yoru's calm demeanor totally crumbled and his cheeks flushed a bright pink. Was this all just a strange dream? He'd been through a lot, but never anything like this.

"Yes," he sheepishly answered.

 

[Blackthorne]

His nerves and quickening heartbeat weren't helping her insatiable need to gorge. The man was lucky. Sooooo lucky. He had no idea how much restraint was being used right now and how gentle she was being with him. Feth, had she gone soft?

"Yes."

Blackthorne visibly rolled her eyes at his meek response. He wouldn't see it them roll, but they were rolling all the same. She dipped her head from his ear, moving to draw her lips across the line of his neck only to find him as rigid beneath her as a fething granite statue. Sigh. He was a little apprehensive, apparently. It made no difference to her but it would make a world of difference to him if she had to bite through strained muscle tissue. A world of pain, that is.

"I know this sounds counter intuitive but," she leaned to sit up, looking him in the eyes with her own faintly glowing pools of acid, "you need to relax."

 

[Yoru Iben]

Maybe the whole ordeal was making him all touchy and sensitive, but the momentary fluttering of her lips over his neck sent a shock over his skin that flew up all of his fibers and sharply stabbed at his nerves. Obviously clueless about her restraint and consideration for him, Yoru thought she was a brutish woman. Killing three men faster than he could process would have that effect as well. However, her lips felt soft. It was utterly confusing.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he said and slowly inhaled a deep, deep breath, which he let out just as slowly, "I'm Yoru, by the way."

He set his gaze on the desk behind Thorne and then off to the side, turning his head to expose his neck to her. All his muscles tightened for a few seconds, tighter than when he was plagued by nervousness, and then relaxed. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he settled onto the bunk a bit more comfortably.

"Can you get on with it before I- ack!"

He felt her teeth sink into him.

 

[Blackthorne]

Took him long enough. Force, was he some kind of virgin? It was like he'd never had a woman in his lap before. Blackthorne digressed, waiting for the right moment to strike when he finally let down his guard and loosened up. She was too hungry to take much notice of his taste or his scent and took from him greedily. Warmth and life energy suffused her limbs as though dropping herself slowly into a hot spring. She could feel the relief spread along her aching bones, thawing out the remnants of subzero temperatures.

Her secondary heart fluttered, flushed with regeneration anew, and found its strong staccato beat again.

With luck he was in good health and of enough mass to be able to donate without much in the way of consequences. Unfortunately Yoru forgot about tapping out. The moment his weight sunk into her and his heart rate slowed was the moment she forcibly extracted herself from his neck.

"Fuck," she caught him with a growl, blood dribbling from the corners of her mouth and down along his front, "you complete nerf herder."

Following a moment to collect herself, she set the man back into his bed with irritation filtering through her as readily as his blood. Bite wound cleaned and patched, she left before the thought of fluffing his pillow or putting a blanket over him dared cross her mind.

 

[Yoru Iben]

The scrapper tightly clutched the sheets under him. It was certainly painful - at first. But it was a bearable pain, and with each gluttonous slurp, he felt another sensation beside the pain. Yoru let out soft, raspy pants and his gaze soon became unfocused, and his eyelids fluttered as he fought for consciousness. Finally, his grip on the sheets loosened, and he remembered nothing after that.

When he woke up some hours later from a rather peaceful nap, he slowly gathered himself. A pang in his neck as he moved around. Fingers gingerly prodded at the dressing over his neck, and with a glance down, he frowned at the dried bloodstain on the front of his shirt. He swung his legs out from the bunk and reached down to tap a button in the wall. A compartment opened up to a conservator, and he pulled out one of his nutrient pouches. After closing it, Yoru paced around his quarters, checking everything as he slowly fed himself on the gel.

Though a bit groggy, he otherwise felt fine and went to find his passenger. He wasn't searching long and found that Thorn made herself quite comfortable in the cockpit. Yoru sat down off to the side, feeling like a stranger in his own starship.

"Hey," he sighed and sunk in the chair, nearly touching his back to the bottom of the chair, "D'you feel better now?"

 

[Blackthorne]

The cockpit was where she felt most sound and secure in most ships. From the many years heading up the Brethren Court of the Pirate clans and the Black Hand within, Blackthorne knew comfort where she felt power; in the place of control. So she'd taken up residence in the pilot's chair and nestled herself in beneath her two blankets for a good long na-

Sssssssst.

The door hissed open, rousing her from a sound sleep. Oh blazing stars, was he a talker? He was a talker, wasn't he.

"Hey, do you feel better now?"

"I'm not likely to leave you as a mutilated corpse now, if that's what you mean," because he certainly wasn't concerned about her if he was concerned about anything at all. The glow from her eyes had subsided slightly, shifting to a the wild greens of a jungle, and they shifted to look over at him where he slouched into the co-pilot chair, "You should be resting. Failure to follow directions like tapping out before passing out has consequences, you know."

 

[Yoru Iben]

"Oh, yay," he kicked his feet up, looking straight ahead at nothing in particular with a bored, disinterested look on his face. He waved her comment off. "Lesson learned, anyway. Not like we'll have to do that again."

Yoru smushed around what little gel remained in the pouch. Okay, so, yes, he was a bit of a talker. He didn't mind being alone, but when he wasn't, he liked to talk. However, at the moment, he couldn't find much to talk about.

"How close are we? Came to check," He lied. He came to talk.

 

[Blackthorne]

Blackthorne raised a brow at his audacity and self assurance that it wouldn't happen again. Did she need to feed again before reaching her ship and crew? No, not really. Would she to save herself from the annoyance? Well ... anything was possible. A wrong word, a wrong move could as easily set her off again since she had spent so much time surviving in that frigid hell. The mere memory of that place made her shiver, so she pulled the blankets a bit more snugly around her and hunkered down.

"How close are we? Came to check."

"Three feet, give or take," she mumbled back at him, smirk hidden within the folds of the blankets around her front, "a little less than two days out."

 

[Yoru Iben]

Yoru glanced sideways at Thorne, quietly scoffed, entertained, and set his gaze forward again. Feeling antsy, he took his feet down and swiveled the chair around as he searched for... there! He held a small metal case that was a bit small for his large hand. Opening it, he took a cigarette from it and began to smoke after fishing around for his lighter.

He sat back, getting comfortable again.

Yoru didn't talk much after that and eventually left the cockpit. For the rest of the day, he went about his own business, and she hers. After getting some much-needed sleep and fixing himself a small meal from some old leftovers in the galley, the scrapper took himself to the cargo bay. He'd made space in one of the corners for a modest weight rack and simple cage for him to exercise with. There was an old combat dummy that he used to strike against and a stave propped against the wall next to it. His shirt was tossed over a nearby stool, and he'd worked up a healthy sweat as he went through his routine.

His grunts and the sounds of rattling weights echoed off the bay's cold, lifeless walls. Exercising was easy for Yoru. He had a lot to think about, which motivated him to finish his sets. With what he sought to do, keeping his body in tip-top shape was a must.

 

[Blackthorne]

Blackthorne had little trouble keeping to herself. Sleep came easily for continued regeneration and recovery during that first 24 hours following their short chat in the cockpit. After that? She, too, was feeling restless. Normally there were things needing done, a ship to run, places to go, people to talk to, inventory to take stock of, a crew to harass, and bedmates to kark.

Here? Much as Yoru felt the stranger on his ship, she wasn't about to take it over - much as she would have liked to give the entire thing a deep clean. Men, such gorram slobs. The Harrowbane's crew had a dedicated team for keeping it running smoothly, efficiently, and cleanly. Inside and out. He'd at the very least emptied his overflowing ashtray, though she had to wonder if he'd actually emptied it into the incinerator or just into another overflowing waste bin somewhere out of sight.

She'd taken to meditation in her chosen quarters for several hours, but after a time felt the need to move. So Blackthorne made her way to the small kitchenette to fetch herself some water and dig out something to nibble on. Remnants of meat... something. But mostly what she found were spacer rations. Very few spacers traveled with real food in their stores - it was expensive and it took up precious cargo space. She couldn't blame him for what was present, but she also couldn't eat any of it. Damn those hereditary allergies.

On her way on a walking round through the ship, she passed by the cargo bay to the tunes of his session within. Wasn't hard to figure out what he was doing just by the sounds and scent of sweat lingering on the air ... except it wasn't just sweat. Blackthorne stopped dead in her tracks as she caught the scent of blood as well. She wasn't hungry, but an unexpected whiff was enough to send her senses reeling. So she turned, blankets tugged snuggly over her shoulders, and headed in to assess the situation.

He was shirtless, he was gleaming with sweat, and he was built like a brick shithouse. Eye candy she was more than happy to take in, until the stain of red made itself known.

"Stop-" Blackthorne moved forward into his workout area, "stop, you've reopened your wound." It had soaked through the bandage and now was beginning to dribble down his front. Gorramnit.