Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

A cloud of smoke snaked slowly from Morgan's lips, blown into whirling and twisting shapes that intermingled with Emryc's before dissipating into the nice air. He wasn't looking at Emryc but he Saw him all the same, watching as he what the other man had drawn forth from itself was again steadily buried in the ice. It was fascinating and drew Morgan's attention almost automatically, though not by itself. It was a piece of Emryc he hadn't seen before and he studied it carefully, watched it, considered it. Then they moved on.

Morgan looked up at Emryc when he spoke. He blinked, smiled a little half smile, picked up his coat from the speeder, and moved to follow him. Red suited him just fine, he thought, just not the shade the dead man painted. He knew what Emryc meant, though. His head tilted slightly left from just behind the man, watching him again as they walked to the next target. His command of the Force was amazing, but the method itself reminded Morgan of his teacher's, a divergent path for a different purpose. Or maybe it was something unrelated taught by the station? He didn't feel now was the time to ask, instead only dropping his cigarra in his path and crushing it underfoot.

Halfway to the party he finally spoke up again. "Then what does suit me?" he asked, having moved up beside Emryc on the walkway. He looked straight ahead, far calmer, and was quickly regaining a sense of energy. Certainly enough to ask questions.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The beast was pulled in with each step he took away from the building. His own thoughts began to flood back into his mind, and the personality that took a backseat emerged up front again. It was a slow and painful process, but it was possible from not unleashing himself fully. There was a soft exhale as he slowly came back, the golden hues now replaced with the usual icy silver.

Emryc ran his fingers through his hair, feeling beads of sweat along his forehead. He walked in silence with Morgan, even after he heard the question. For a moment he considered saying nothing, still withdrawn in his thoughts. He could easily explain his actions against Dorian because the Cathar didn’t follow the rules he set. But why were those rules so important anyway? Why was there no margin for error? Emryc stopped the thought there, mind venturing into territory he couldn’t understand or grasp.

The councilman’s office was in a building just up ahead. Emryc kept walking, his hands in his pockets as he approached the area. It was a corporate office, set behind a fountain. People were coming in and out of the office, all wearing fancy suits and dresses.

“Colors you wear by choice,” Emryc replied out of the blue after a long time. His gaze was on the building, no change of expression on his face.


@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan didn't address Emryc's answer, instead looking over at the office building and the groups of suits and dresses walking in. An office party, filled to the brim with corporate politics and power plays. How fun.

The fact it was an office filled with rivals, co-workers, and underlings meant there was potentially an opening to exploit without even stepping inside. Morgan pulled out his datapad and navigated to the file on Avis Morag. He swiped through the information on noted personal habits and assets, finally finding what he was looking for.

Morgan turned the pad to partially face Emryc. "He has a speeder, fancy model, droid brain autopilot. Maybe it malfunctions and he has an accident heading home with his plus one?" It was certainly the most impersonal method, but it would also end up with him caught posthumously with his mistress. Morgan would almost call it karma if he didn't otherwise care about the man beyond a job.

"Or would you prefer something a little more up close?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc listened to the options, considering them both. In the end he knew how close he had come to losing himself again, “The speeder,” He said simply, having little desire to come across another face with an expression he didn’t like. Emryc walked towards where the valet were standing around, casting a glance at Morgan, “I hope you know how to slice. It’s not one of my strong suits.”

He waved his hand and the man at the valet station had a glazed over look. Within seconds, they were being led to Avis Morag’s speeder. The garage had several levels and Avis’ speeder was in a prime location, hinting at how wealthy the man was. The man came to stop next to a speeder that caught Emryc’s attention. He couldn’t even imagine the credits needed to purchase such a luxury model.

Emryc turned to the valet, the man handing over the keys and turning to walk away in a daze. Emryc turned to look at Morgan, drawing out his datapad, “We’ll need to make it so we can remotely control the vehicle. Too risky with timing to rig the system to malfunction. Can you work that?” He looked around. They would look far less suspicious if they weren’t standing around.

With a click, Emryc opened the door and slipped in, marveling at the perfect leather trimming and sleek design.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

"Slice, dice, and julienne fries," he replied breezily as they walked and watching Emryc's mental handiwork on the poor unfortunate soul. He looked around the place for cameras but there weren't any in the garage. Saves on liability costs, probably. Typical corporation.

"Yeah, sure. Probably. Just going to take a bit," Morgan confirmed, slipping into the speeder's driver side and pulling out a cigarra case. He clicked it open and flicked it to move the folding page of cigarras over. Where normally there would be a second set there was instead a series of small slicing tools concealed behind a thin layer of reflec. A series of cables, a connector, a collapsing dataspike, and other little gadgets and gizmos aplenty. Sure they couldn't hold a candle to proper slicing gear, but they got past security for the small and precise stuff. Like hacking a car with a datapad.

Morgan looked around the speeder for a moment before he started and let out a low whistle of appreciation, looking over the controls. "Aha," he muttered and tapped a button on the dash that caused the mildly tinted windows to darken to almost black. It had a privacy mode. "Good making out car," he commented off-handedly as he began his work, plugging in one of the cables to the spike. Then he twisted off the pointy end and plugged a cylinder attachment to it, which he then inserted into where the "key" would normally go.

His own datapad came out and had a cable plugged into the back of the spike, a second wire linking to Emryc's. It'd go faster that way and Morgan was going to give him the controls, anyway. The center of the spike slowly turned and jerked right and left as it worked on access while Morgan got to setting up a basic slave circuit. The droid brains used for speeder autopilot tended not to be heuristic and simply followed their relatively simple sets of instructions. Once they had access they could change the instructions.

He hummed a tune while he worked, something from a musical, but otherwise his eyes only moved between the security spike and the datapad screen.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched with curiosity as he got to work, reminding himself to learn how to slice at some point. He understood the basics, but he couldn’t have pulled this off. Silver gaze took in sight of the tools he used and the methods he used. Emryc glanced around when the windows became opaque, hearing Morgan’s off-hand comment. He gazed ahead, eyeing the other speeders in the garage.

“Is it?” He asked simply, still looking forward. He felt his datapad shift from him as it was plugged in and the access probes began. Emryc reached forth and opened the glove compartment on his side, drawing out a picture of the man and his family. It was a wife and two young daughters. He gazed at the photo for a moment before reaching back to rummage a bit more in the compartment.

He found another photo at the back corner, drawing out the photo of another woman, this one significantly younger. Emryc rolled his eyes, marveling at the shoddy attempts to hide his infidelity. Further rummaging revealed a small box with some very expensive earrings. Emryc stashed it away - he doubted a dead man would need it.

The half Sephi took the family photo and put it directly in the middle console of the speeder. He listened to Morgan’s humming through it all, considering the events that would follow. There were a series of beeps that suggested that the speeder had been cracked. Emryc picked up his datapad, seeing the same controls that Avis would see on his. He had administrative override on it to lock Avis out from anything he attempted.

“Ready?” He said, finally glancing up at Morgan.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

A few tippity-taps of dextrous fingers finished off what he'd been doing. Really he'd just spliced some things together while the spike did the actual work, but the speeder also wasn't a terribly complicated computer system. Emryc's return question and rummaging did little to draw him away, though the gilded glimmer of a pair of aurodium earrings did draw his eyes for a moment.

Then a confirmatory trio of beeps from the datapad, accompanied by the security spike stopping its motion, announced the work was done. He began to undo all the wiring and pack everything back into the case, turned to look at Emryc for a second, then away again.

"All set," he confirmed and reached up to flick the privacy mode off again before stepping out of the speeder. "Shame about the speeder, though." He closed the speeder door behind him and looked around the garage. Still empty. He looked over the top of the speeder at Emryc when he got out and grinned a little, eyes bright.

"Don't suppose you feel like walking back to the bike?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc eyed the speeder for a moment, trying not to imagine how it’d look after the wreck. At the end of the day, the job was the job. He nodded at Morgan’s words, beginning the walk back to the bike. Emryc pulled up his datapad with more information on the mission brief and new data was added about their lodgings for the night. Two rooms were booked at a ritzy hotel smack dab downtown. Morgan would have gotten the same information.

Emryc stayed quiet during the walk back to the bike, swinging a leg over and revving up the engines. He popped his helmet on and waited for Morgan to do the same before he set off towards the hotel. It was too late in the evening to meet with the client, and they had a rather long day.

Downtown proper was only a few miles away, and he tossed the keys to the valet before walking into the lobby. He gave Morgan his keycard after checking them in. The Sith had arranged for droids to have their things brought to their rooms already. Emryc paused for a moment to glance at Morgan.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” He said quietly, offering an almost smile with tired eyes. He spun on his heel and took the opposite repulsorlift to his room.

Or so it appeared.

Less than an hour after Emryc arrived at his room, he unpacked his things and took out entirely different clothing. He pulled out a loose fitting white tank and slightly tattered pants. Emryc grabbed a bag of spice he had stashed away, pocketing it before grabbing his comlink. He put a leather jacket on top of it all before styling his hair differently and changing into more comfortable shoes.

He was off the clock now. He checked himself out in the mirror before making his way out towards the nightclub scene downtown.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The ride to the hotel was uneventful. Morgan had his arms around Emryc's waist the same as last time, looking around as the sights passed them by in a blur. The check in was equally uneventful and their things had even been delivered. Just as usual, really. Morgan frowned a little as he looked at his room, distracted until Emryc looked at him. Their eyes met.

Morgan smiled in a tired sort of way and lazily waved a hand. "'Til tomorrow, soldier boy." He stepped back and into the room as Emryc left and turned again to look at it. It was very nice, luxurious. Clean, tasteful, isolated. Sterile. Morgan frowned at it, then sighed. He walked over to the grate and unsealed it, going through the things while Dante sat in a corner on standby and taking out some less bloodstained clothes and a small wooden box. Once he'd gathered what he wanted, he took a shower.

Over an hour of showering, preening, and meticulous redecoration later he finally had something he liked. It was a whole outfit for sure, cuffed combat boots with slim but flexible pants tucked in, black tank and a light, layered jacket of some kind. Each ear glinted with a pair of gold piercings, a simple stud in front and a ring just behind from which dangled a small quarter rest note. Morgan looked at his hands with a pensive expression for a few seconds, then pulled off the gloves and tossed them atop the now sealed crate.

If Emryc was going to bed he wouldn't disturb him, but he was restless and Cloud City had a known nightclub scene and he hadn't been in a while. So he checked he had everything he'd need, double checked his appearance again and ran his fingers through his hair just to make sure it stayed straight back, and headed out of the hotel toward downtown.

Unbeknownst to him, barely twenty minutes after Emryc had left himself.

There was a very fun club he'd visited last time he was here, with a wild crowd, loud speakers, and a wide selection of drinks. It was a good night for some basshunting.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc had little trouble getting into the club, and it was clear very few rules existed here. The area was packed and he dropped his jacket off, deciding it was already going to be too hot to wear one. The music was thumping and he could feel it in his bones and he started to come alive. Emryc discreetly put a little of spice on his hand before snorting it, feeling that familiar rush as his eyes rolled back for a moment. He shook his head before walking deeper into the crowds.

He began to loosen up at once, grabbing some shots off a passing by tray and throwing them back. He had some credits to blow and he would spend it on this. He began to move with the beat, feeling the bass thumping and rocking through his body. He was entirely different when embracing music, and he let go of all the frosty chill that otherwise surrounded him.

Emryc was approached by pink twi’lek before long wearing a flimsy top that revealed her shoulders and midriff. He pulled her in to dance, swaying and moving with her. The smell of sweat, perfumes and colognes surrounded him. He could feel the bare skin of others brushing him and he lived for this. The spice made every sensation that much more tantalizing. He took it all in, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as the woman in front of him turned around and ground against him to the beat.

The lights flashed sporadically to light up the room, but otherwise they were pink and purple neon hues. Drinks were being passed all around and everyone cheered and danced. There were a few elevated platforms and poles where some women got up to dance. It was open for anyone to climb. Emryc was content with where he was, his hands gripping onto the twi’lek’s lithe waist.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

It looked and smelled just the same as Morgan remembered. The neon lights, burly door bouncers, and massive front door. The Togorian bouncer even recognized him- probably by smell, considering the mix herb, citrus, and smoke that followed him- and offered a fist bump and a wave inside. Morgan stepped right on through.

The inside was huge, basically an imitation of a warehouse party with much nicer amenities. The smells of sweat, blood, and other fluids hit his nose all at once and his nostrils flared, eyes reflecting the chaotic neon and stage lights in the otherwise low-lit club. He cracked his neck and moved further in, the lightweight and breathable over layer staying on. It was made for this stuff. He slipped a small something from his pocket and licked it off his thumb with a tongue pierced by three studs along its far length. It came away with a small blue square, and then he joined the party.

Drinks! Morgan got himself a couple shots of Starshine Surprise and downed them both on his way past the bar and slid into the dancing, muscling his way through a tight grouping of people with a flash of fangs and a short laugh. His body almost moved on its own, twisting and grinding to the background bass of whatever amped up song they were playing at the time.

Dancing! With whoever took interest, changing from one minute to the next. He never stayed in one place on the floor and barely paid attention besides. A wild and feral energy came off in waves, drawing some to him and discouraging the tamer of the crowd. It wasn't long before the drinks and what he'd taken combined together to leave him with a wild grin, burning eyes, and forgetful of his own strength.

Fight! Some gonk took a particularly hard knock personally and they squared up, snarling fangs bared at gritted teeth, but with expressions that couldn't quite decide between anger and flirtation. They decided to settle the contest another, much more fun way in the end, through silent agreement and a nodding of heads.

Drinks! Back at the bar with an array of whiskeys. Shots, shots, more shots, sequential and quick, one at a time until someone dropped. The other guy'd been half wasted already and dropped to the floor halfway through. Morgan took a bonus shot, licked another technicolour tabs off his thumb, and laughed, long and loud, and darted off to find something else with a feral and somewhat unsteady gait

Dancing! Up by the music stage and dancing and deep in the thick of it where the wildest dancers writhed and thrummed along with the music, at least half of them blitzed out of their mind on any number of things. A nearly-naked dancer on a pole caught his eye and while he was half dancing, half fighting a scarred-up Mandalorian woman and, quite reasonably in his mind, he took it as a challenge. He leapt atop the platform and swung his arm around her waist, peeling her from the pole and into a low dip. Fangs drew gently across skin for a moment before he dropped her the few inches to the waiting crowd below where she was absorbed in the frenzy.

Laughter! It resounded from him wild and free, as he jumped halfway up the pole and gripped it with a leg and hand, spinning around it's length to the sound of music. The colours and sounds blended together and his body felt as light as a feather, free of the weight it always carried. He danced in the air bound only by a pole, switching between different limbs and contortions, savage and sensual, flexible and powerful, showing every ounce of the strength and dexterity he possessed. Laughter turned sometimes into song as he joined in with the music, harmonizing with the rapid pace before it became or purring growls again. He climbed the pole near the end of a recognized, winding up and up along its length toward the neon-lit ceiling.

Freedom! As the bass dropped so did Morgan, legs releasing the top of the pole entirely with his arms spread wide. He laughed again over the gasps and echoed laughter of the crowd, the music quieting toward the. Gravity took him down, down, down, the platform rushing up to meet him. Adrenaline surged and his eyes dilated and then his right arm and leg flashed out to the pole, redirecting his momentum into a rapid spin around the pole, around and around as he laughed. Sweat soaked his hair, turned wild by the dancing and brushed haphazardly off to the side. He panted hard from the exertion, fangs glinting in the spotlight that had turned to the dancing platforms when he jumped to the top.

He ducked down and pulled the original dancer back off with a cheeky wink. "Top that!" he challenged and leapt off, defiant of the burning in his legs and landing just shy of the woman and a man in ragged pants and white tank. The woman so high she barely noticed until Morgan nearly lost his balance and stumbled into her, watching her get dragged off into some other dance with a passing and fickle interest. The place he'd found himself had a scent he decided he liked, a certain musk of sweat, cologne, and other things. He didn't recognize anyone- or anything much at all at the moment, his senses were jumbled to hell- but that didn't matter. He just moved to the music and forgot about everything else for a while.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The spice was taking effect, and he was losing touch with who and what. He only focused on the music and the wide spectrum of colors that danced to the beat all around him. The twi’lek went just as hard, spinning around to throw her arms around him. He finally opened his eyes to look at her, her pink form blurring into an abstract in front of him. He could still feel her supple skin and the sweat that began to line there and him.

She grinned at him, reaching down to sprinkle some spice along her chest. Emryc grinned back as he danced, leaning in to graze his tongue over her skin to share in the high. The spice mixed with the salty skin set his senses on overdrive, and he kept moving. His pupils were dilated and he saw the rays of lights beginning to take form and become tangible. They materialized into shapes and danced before him, swaying to the beat.

The lights flashed again and he focused briefly on the elevated platforms and poles, watching a lithe man dominate the dance and maneuver around the pole. The man moved too fast to make out the face, but Emryc certainly liked the way he moved his hips and how flexible he was. He moved with precision and dexterity, switching easily between the limbs in a hypnotic display that caught Emryc’s attention. It did so till the twi’lek grabbed him by the chin and focused his gaze back on her.

The beat kept thumping and Emryc loosened up even more, stepping back slightly and now moving his arms with the dance. There were no rules here, some women had tossed their tops off. The poles now had nude women jumping up and spinning around. There was a fight between two rodian happening in a corner with a circle cheering around them.

Everything was a blur and Emryc was still moving, not paying attention to faces. He began to circle around the twi’lek watching her graceful movements until a figure moved in abruptly in the way. Emryc barely processed what happened, but he saw someone before him facing away from him and blocking the twi’lek from view.

Still dancing, he stepped forth to grab the man and move him aside. His hand rested roughly against his bicep and he stepped forth, drawn in by the clean way he smelled. Emryc decided instead to keep dancing, his hand slipping down to the man’s waist as he pulled him in against him. His body ground against the man’s, enjoying the sensation and the perfect smell that was a mixture of sweat and spice.

The twi’lek joined in front of the man, throwing an arm around his neck and pressing herself against him. She grinned with her pearly whites, running her other hand down his chest as she leaned into him to dance. It was clear that everyone was completely spiced out of their minds and no one paid attention to anything beyond crude sensations that now exploded from a euphoric trip.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Yes, this was a good spot. Someone grabbed him and pulled him close, just a hair short of drawing out an aggravated reaction- the muscles in the arm the man grabbed tensed and coiled, steel cables wound tight beneath cloth and skin- but quickly relaxed and found something else to do when Morgan was instead pulled in by the waist. He ground back against the man, a low rumbling vibrating through his chest that only intensified with the addition of the twi'lek woman.

Morgan moved with a fiery energy, and though his limbs burned from his bout of aerial escapades they still had strength left. Which the woman learned when she placed an arm around his neck, which did draw out an aggravated reaction, if a mild one. Morgan peeled her arm off and roughly spun her around to claw her back in close, iron fingers digging relatively lightly into her hips. The rumbling in his chest turned into a low growl purring in her ear. She gasped and laughed, all par for the course in this place of neon lights and thumping bass.

His body coiled and uncoiled, twisted left and right pressed against the others with an inhuman power. He might move them without even meaning to, sunk into the sound, alcohol, and spice. At some point a large alien of some kind, he didn't know what just then, moved his way through the crowd and, quite unceremoniously, snatched up the twi'lek in a burly arm. Morgan just laughed, wild and musical, more than amused at the sight of the woman hauled up like luggage, and refocused himself on the other one he was dancing with instead. He was more interesting anyway, he moved with more fire, gripped with more force, moved in close like he owned that space. His presence was more welcome.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He could barely make out the twi’lek as she attempted to grasp at the man in front of him, her arm sliding along near his face. He almost found it intrusive, and the sentiment was shared by the man he danced with. The twi’lek was spun and the dance continued. Emryc exhaled as he felt the man press back against him, every bit of his hot blood wanting to quickly travel south. Control was difficult to attain, and it only served to anger him to have it so fleeting. His grip on the man’s waist tightened and fingers dug in even more.

The twi’lek was seemingly whisked away by a burly alien, and this left Emryc alone with the man that was… it was a laugh that only blended into his euphoria. It was a laugh that caught his attention whenever he was sober, and it reminded him of burning yellow eyes. It reminded him of fangs. It reminded him of animalistic rage. It reminded him of a beast that circled him, gazing directly into the animal that resided with himself. One was chained back under layers of ice, the other was liberated and free, teasing with sensual grace admixed with danger.

His thoughts were as far away as his mind and his hands found themselves clutching at the jacket that covered the man, yanking it off his shoulders. On the way back up, Emryc slid his arms up along the bare, sinewy arms of the man in front of him, each touch of skin against skin amplified from the spice. He was much closer now, the heat of their bodies pressing against one another. Sweat mixed with sweat and the music reverberated through his body.

Emryc closed his eyes again, leaning in to bury his face into the man’s hair and inhaling the scent of him. His lips trailed along till his hot breath brushed against the man’s ear, tickling against the piercings that hung there. He reached back only to sprinkle some spice on his inner forearm, bringing it around in front of the man’s face to lick it off if he pleased. His other hand clutched at his hip, but angled lower and closer to his inner thigh. The grip was almost possessive in nature, digging into his flesh and holding him in place.

The club had gotten intense and several different fights had broken out by now. Shrieking laughter echoed as drinks were poured all around. Someone popped a champagne bottle and the liquid spilled over both men. A rodian came sailing and landed a few feet away, and still Emryc was in a trance and detached from his surroundings.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's thin, two-layer jacket slid off easily and lay forgotten on the floor. The arms they'd covered were left bare, the other skin brushing against a series of slightly raised brands that went up the entire length of each arm and continued over Morgan's shoulders and beneath his black tank, peaking out from under the edge of the tank top across his chest. Esoteric and very old shapes tinged with silver undertones disguised in the flashing neon lights. Slender fingers gripped the forearm that came around from behind and a long tongue scraped against it, hot flesh and metal studs stealing away the offered spice.

The other man's possessive grip was met with another low and rumbling growl, but nothing was done to stop him even as his hand slipped lower, Morgan pressed against him with increased fervor. What was most dangerous was him getting close to Morgan's neck, other hand coming around and resting itself against the other man's neck while he breathed in his scent. After a moment Morgan opened up his neck, the tips of his fingers drawing across the other man's skin in his best approximation of gentleness, with only mixed success.

The fights were spreading. The smell of iron, fresh blood, hit his nostrils around the time the extra spice started to kick in, mixed in with the chaotic cacophony of everything else. He was distracted the distant sensation rather suddenly by the an eruption of ice-cold and bubbling liquid across his burning skin, the smell of champagne. Morgan's reaction was just a little less than calm.

Suddenly and without warning the low, relatively tame purring, became a deeper growl, transitioning into a hiss of irritation. His head whipped around and his eyes glinting with the spark of wild fury, catching the sight of a who came soaring from some direction or other. Morgan broke from his dancing partner's grip and took a step forward, lifted the unfortunate Rodian from the ground by his pants and the back of his jacket and, with a heave, flung him rather carelessly back where he'd come from where he, rather to his credit, rolled to his feet and got back to the fight.

Morgan laughed again, the champagne forgotten beyond the clinging moisture that stuck his shirt to his skin above what were clearly further brands, and turned back to what he was doing before. He stepped back in to dance, inhaling again the scents of cologne and spice and sweat, tinged with the sweet and dry of champagne that covered the two of them and soaked through their clothes. He drove in close, very close, senses running wild with the fire in his blood. He drank in the scents, the sounds. He sank back into the embrace of the other man, finally turning what he could of his limited attention to him.

Morgan paused, and looked at Emryc.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was too spiced to take note of the different marks on the skin of the man before him. He focused only on the heat and the smell, the music pulsing through his body. He felt the man’s hand rest against his neck, a soft exhale escaping as he ground himself back harder against him. He saw a kaleidoscope of colors, and his hunger pounded in his veins. The beast within him stirred again, this time craving for something else. The drugs and the alcohol had taken away the barriers and control eluded him.

He had no desire to hold back, one of his hands slipping beneath the tank of the man and sliding up to feel along the perfectly chiseled muscles and the warm skin that begged for his touch. Pupils were completely dilated as the man exposed his neck, the pale flesh bare for him to devour. He didn’t hesitate, leaning in to capture his first taste of that salty skin. He teased and bit, all while moving and swaying so the friction left a bruise. He was demanding in nature, leaving his mark and swirling his tongue over the wound he left behind as he inhaled him. He craved for more, his body moving of its own accord.

However, the appearance of the rodian came almost the same time as a beep on his comlink. Emryc’s hands slipped back the same time the man moved towards the rodian. The half sephi shook his head, keen ears focused on that beep. He stepped backwards for a few steps, spinning on his heel as he flipped an internal switch. Control was fleeting, but it was not gone.

He was back on the clock.

An alarm had been set to trigger when Avis Morag would be driving back with his mistress and he had been tasked to set the accident. Within seconds, Emryc set back into the cold and icy soldier, his stumbling steps becoming more sure footed with each one he took. He had disappeared through the crowd, his focus slowly shifting from the blur into reality.

Morgan would turn to smell that lingering scent and be left with a mark, but he wouldn’t know who had given it to him. Just as Emryc wouldn’t know who he had inflicted it upon.


@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The other man's hand slip up and under his shirt, dragging across skin. Morgan's heart thumped beneath his touch to join the rumbling purr, the sound of one beast clawing out to meet another, desirous of that touch. Fingers clawed across the invading arm but this, too, was allowed with protest. The other man had a tiger cradled in his arms and it only purred and begged for more, sank into his touch, purred louder when teeth met skin and left their mark behind. He wanted and was wanted, and only the sudden distraction of the spilled champagne and the results that followed brought him out of his burning reverie.

But only for a moment and he was back, sinking back into the grasping and greedy arms. Then he paused, and stared at Emryc.

Or at least, Morgan thought he stared at Emryc, for a few moments at least. The dark hair was right, maybe? But the smell was completely different. It was the eyes that did it. Bright blue, glazed with spice. Not silver. Not Emryc, nor the person he'd been dancing with. Nothing to worry about, and not interesting. The scent he'd liked lingered, but it must have just been the mix of everything and the stuff he'd taken. He suddenly felt even more irritated and pushed the man aside with bared fangs , snatched his jacket from the floor, and stalked off toward the bar. He powered his way through a group of humans to get there to the backdrop of the Rodian he'd thrown clocking the other one out cold.

Morgan felt more sober than he really was, and idle fingers dragging across the bruised mark that still lay on his neck. It stung. The scent he liked clung to him, but he couldn't piece things together just then. So he decided not to think about it and ordered another shot, downed it, and threw himself into the fighting with a laugh.

Some minutes later, midway between him introducing the champion Rodian to the floor after he'd had struck Morgan across the face, he felt a vibration and heard a ringing from inside his pocket. He planted a boot between the Rodian's shoulder blades and leaned on him to get the point across and pulled his pocket pad out to see what it was, narrowing his eyes at it in order to actually read it. Target confirmed down. Emryc must've still been at the hotel, then, waiting for the good Mr. Morag. Morgan shook his head and began to clear it and noticed the Rodian was tapping the ground.

He leaned down and helped pull him to his feet, introduced a bottle of something green into his hands with a smile, and stumbled off. He should probably head back. Morgan left behind the thoroughly bemused and spice-addled Rodian, now gulping from the bottle, slipped his jacket back over his shoulders and made to leave. He ran still-tense fingers through his hair to slick it back, grimacing at the sticky feeling of slowly drying alcohol.

Morgan stepped his way out a side exit door and around a group smoking outside and made his way to a walkway bench. He sank into the seat, retrieved a cigarra from his jacket, had trouble finding the lighter. He succeeded eventually and a clicking snap of the device lead to a cloud of billowing smoke. Slow and steady the cacophony was left behind, replaced by different smells and sights. For the length of the cigarra he sat in silence, muscles losing tensions. The drugs and alcohol still ran through his system, but his focus was returning all the same, drawing back the tiger where it belonged. He didn't need to be sober, just able to see.

He stood and headed back to the hotel. Morgan was going to have to climb through a window or something, he was sure, to avoid running into Emryc. If he even cared whether or not Morgan was there at all. He tossed the cigarra butt away into an alley and his fingers raised up to his neck where the mark had been. The bruise had healed by now but he still felt its touch, the lips and teeth digging into his neck, the hands that wanted to claim him, the base and simple pleasure of skin on skin. He wished he knew who it'd been.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

It was around 0900 hours by the time Emryc made his way down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. He was showered, cleaned up and back in his regular civilian attire. He was nibbling on a piece of toast, reading up on current events on his datapad. His head was pounding, but he hid it well. He read the headlines about Avis Morag and his mistress being found dead and a scandal revealed.

There was no evidence of the sweat and grime from the night before and nothing to suggest he had ever left his room. His hair was perfectly gelled and in place. The man he had danced with lingered on his mind for a while the night prior, but the thoughts had been pushed aside by morning. He was back on the clock again.

Emryc had commed Morgan about where he would be, saving them a seat. They only had to meet with the client and the job would be complete. He stifled a yawn as he switched over to eating fruits. The Holonets around the restaurant began to broadcast the stories about the death of Avis Morag and the suicide of Dorian. Evidently Tilla's death hadn't been discovered just yet.


@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan appeared not long after Emryc's message, dressed once again as an affluent civilian trader, though the individual pieces of clothing were different. He'd removed the various piercings, other than the simple studs he always wore, and by the time morning came they'd healed closed. He took off his jacket and hung it meticulously on the back of the chair with a blank expression, the scent of herbs and citrus joining him at the table as he sat. Preened and prepped, not a hair out of place. As always.

Although he did have a mildly grumpy expression if one looked directly at him. His kind recovered quickly from most things, but he had also done a lot of drinking and everything else. Even Firrerreons weren't immune to a hangover induced by enough substance to effect them in the first place for any decent length of time. His eyes turned to the news.

"Such a shame," he commented wistfully, looking at the crashed speeder rather than the mangled occupants. The fingers of his left hand idly brushed against his neck for a moment before a waitress brought the order he'd put in from his room. It was, of course, at least half a mixed collection of meat sausages, a variety of fruits and vegetables joining them. He immediately got to working on his extra-large breakfast. He always had to eat more than usual after a night out like that.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc continued with his fruits, watching as a plate of sausages was brought over for Morgan. He saw a variety of changes in the man’s demeanor, a visibly irritated look and the way he kept rubbing along a spot on his neck. Emryc’s mind vaguely drifted away for a moment, thinking back to that salty taste in his mouth and the faint smell of citrus and herbs… wait, that’s what he was smelling now. He sighed, his memories obviously overlapping, as he got up to get yet another glass of water.

He came back in time for Morgan to remark on the accident and Emryc followed his gaze, “I’d kill for a speeder like that,” He muttered, meaning that quite literally. He had little personal wealth, however. It would take an absurd amount of spice runs, DJing and driving around clients to raise that kind of cash.

“Where is our contact today?” Emryc asked as he sipped from his water. If Morgan observed, he’d notice the way the half Sephi winced more when a door slammed or any loud noise erupted. His eyes were slightly red, but that could simply have been from lack of sleep.

He finished up his meal and turned back to watching Holonet, waiting for Morgan to finish up so they could leave.


@Mr. Teatime