Star Wars: Twilight Sojourn, ch.1

Author's Notes: It's here! I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it -- I definitely have a ton of plans for making it into a longer series, if people end up enjoying it!

While most main characters in this are original creations, observant Star Wars fans will pick up a lot of hints and nods towards some fairly minor lore characters as well.

Yadda yadda Disney please don't sue me.

[story] [fu/fu] [blowjob!]

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“Mmpph… nnh, mmllch….”

I close my eyes and let my mind drift as Leetra’s lips slide up and down along my girlcock, her tongue lapping and curling around my throbbing length. I lean back little more, keeping my legs spread, and reach out to take gentle hold of one of her emerald green head-tails – it coaxes a little shudder of excitement from the other twi’lek, and she redoubles her efforts, taking me as deeply down her throat as she can manage and holding position, her hands firmly planted on each of my knees to keep my legs spread.

Damn, did I miss Ryloth. It’s not only a return home, but a firm reminder that twi’leks give some of the best head in the galaxy – tied, perhaps, with the zeltrons, but it’s definitely a close race, and Leetra here is doing my people proud. She pushes down a little more, lashes fluttering for a moment before she starts bobbing her head up and down once again, essentially skull-fucking herself with my dick, and that’s the kind of eagerness that you don’t get to see every day. “Uhhnn… y-yeahh…” I tremble, biting my lower lip as I feel a bold, bright wave of pleasure begin to creep across my body, and my grip on Leetra’s lekku grows a little tighter, simultaneously an anchor, and a warning that I won’t be able to last much longer. Leetra’s big blue eyes look up at me, a little wet from how aggressively she’s been gagging herself on my cock, and they show pure determination – if anything, the speed and recklessness of her downward bobs onto my shaft only increase, and I find myself gritting my teeth, fingers of my free hand clutching tightly to the sheets of the bed I’m sitting on. “Nngh… h-hahh…!”

My breath catches in my chest, and I feel an explosion of pleasure, followed by the sound of Leetra taking several big swallows as I shoot my load against the back of her throat. A little spasm rolls through me, an aftershock of my intense orgasm, and I flop backwards onto the bed, suddenly consumed by complete relaxation. It’s a moment before I finally feel Leetra’s lips slide off of my shaft, and she sits back, letting out a quiet giggle. “How was that for your ‘tip,’ Nura?”

“Amazing as always, Lee,” I sigh softly, taking a moment to catch my breath before finally sitting back up, my glistening girldick starting to soften between spread thighs. “You been picking up new tricks since I’ve been away?”

“Maybe a few,” Leetra smirks, leaning in to press a soft smooch on my lips, then standing up. She’s as gorgeous as the last time I returned to Ryloth, with her soft green skin, heart-shaped face, and perky curves, her transparent pink nightshirt leaving nothing to the imagination, from her cute little tits, perfect hips, and the undersized girldick nestled between her own legs. “But I’m sure it’s nothing the great Nura Qan hasn’t seen before, mm?”

“I’m not sure I’d call myself ‘great,’ Lee,” I chuckle back, finally starting to wiggle back into the dark leather of my trousers. “So, I trust everything’s all in order with the shipment, then?”

“Seems to be, yes,” Leetra straddles me, caressing both hands along my own head-tails, though mine are colored a light lavender, marked with a pattern of scrolling tattoos that make their way down to my scalp and neck, before vanishing beneath my undershirt. “You were faster than expected.”

“You know I love when you do that thing with your tongue.”

“I meant the shipment, silly,” she grins.

“All the patrol ships seemed to have much better things to do than hassle me,” I shrug. “Maybe it’s true what they’re saying – that the Clone War’s about to be over? I heard over my comms that General Grievous was neutralized, but who knows if it’s true or not. Could just be poodoo chatter.”

“Ah, one can wish.” Leetra looks wistful for a moment, then hops up off of my lap. “One day our homeworld won’t be a damned playground for the Separatists and the crooked Republic to fight their war. When that day comes, maybe your prices will go down.”

“I can probably guarantee that they won’t go up,” I smirk, standing up myself now and reaching for my belt, slipping it back on and making sure that Leetra hasn’t stolen or hidden my blaster. It’s still there – good. “I’ll be back before I go off-world again, maybe we can do some more… ‘catching up,’ yeah?”

“I’d like that,” she draws close again, giving me another soft kiss. “And I might have a buyer looking for glitterstim, too, if you’re interested.”

“Medicinal, or recreational?” I arch a brow at her.

“Does it matter?”

“Good point. Just curious if the war’s hit Ryloth bad enough that Syndulla’s looking to the black market just to keep people alive.”

“You know that if Syndulla was involved, I could never tell you.”

“Of course,” I wind one arm around her waist, touching my forehead to hers. “Maybe, when all this is over, w–”

I’m jarred from my thoughts by the sound of a blaring siren, and disengage from Leetra, one hand moving quickly to my blaster. It’s coming from somewhere outside, but it’s loud enough to be deafening even in Leetra’s parlor. I rush to one of the windows, looking out into the city streets of Lessu, and quickly detect the source of the disturbance – clone troopers have cleared out a town square, setting up massive hologram emitters, and I can see escorts of more clones spreading out to do the same in other areas. After a moment, the emitters project the image of an older human in a hooded red robe.

It takes a moment for me to recognize him, his mostly-concealed face far more pale and withered than I’ve ever seen it before, but it clicks in a moment. The Supreme Chancellor, Sheev Palpatine.

“The attempt on my life has left me scarred, and deformed….”

“Something’s not right,” Leetra whispers, beside me.

I stare in silence as the Supreme Chancellor speaks, and as he continues, realization finally begins to settle. The war is over. And somehow… somehow I’m not sure we’re going to be better off. Not on Ryloth. Maybe not anywhere.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“Apologies, ma’am. A temporary lockdown has been set in place while travel regulations are updated.” The clone in front of me looks somewhat uneasy, following his orders despite a significant shift in the chain of command. The teal markings and pauldron of his Phase II armor marking him as someone more important than the average trooper. “Your ship has been impounded until the citizens of Ryloth can be given proper chain codes – it’s best that we get all of this done at once, you understand.”

“Chain code?” I narrow my eyes. “First this ‘Empire’ is demilitarizing Ryloth, now you want us to line up for serial numbers? You’ve got to be joking.”

“Once again, ma’am, I apologize for any inconvenience,” the trooper says, and it’s clear that I’m not going to get past him. I glare, then back away, the beginnings of a scheme bubbling in the back of my mind.

Getting one of these ‘chain codes’ could kill any future I have in successful smuggling, so that’s a non-option. If I can get off Ryloth (despite having just gotten here) and to the Outer Rim, I have a much better chance of laying low until either this whole thing blows over, or the criminal underworld adapts to it. Of course, to do that, I need my ship – and the Falchion is like my child, there’s no way I can abandon it here. This leaves me one real option… I need a fake chain code.

Normally this is the kinda thing I’d go to Leetra for, but since the declaration of this ‘new galactic empire,’ she’s been laying really low, selling off the contraband bacta I smuggled here before she gets caught with it. There’s no way she’s gonna wanna do business with me while things are this hot, and that means I need to dredge up old contacts I’ve been purposefully avoiding for the past few years, figures from my old life on Ryloth.

If anyone can get me a fake chain code this quickly, and be brazen enough to do it while Lessu’s crawling with increasingly-agitated clone troopers, it’s gonna be Vaax. They’re crazier than a womp rat trapped in a gamorrean’s breechcloth, but if I wanna get off-planet before things get worse, they may be my only option. Dank farrik.

I tighten my jacket around my shoulders, and start walking towards the innermost, densest part of the city of Lessu, foregoing a rental speeder or blurrg. I don’t want any legitimate credits leaving my hands until I’ve got a chain code, but the payment for my shipment to Leetra should mean I can afford Vaax. Day grows to evening as I walk, and the city becomes lit with neon lights on ramshackle buildings, what few civilian businesses have survived the constant war Ryloth’s been at the center of. This place is just as heavily patrolled by armed clone troopers, but also more populated in general, twi’leks from all walks of life trying to carve out their own little slice of the city, now that the war is over. People who were once proud, now all but defeated, disarmed by their own ‘saviors’ and placed under a new, gentler regime, the freedom they were promised stolen away before they ever even got a chance to taste it.

I turn a street, then an alleyway, heading in the direction I assume Vaax’s shop to be in. It’s been years, and a lot of fighting has happened, but if anyone was going to stubbornly remain in the same place, it has to be them. I eventually find myself in front of a small, unlit hovel, a ‘restaurant’ with a sign in the window informing me that it’s closed. I knock three times on the door, pause, knock once, pause, and knock three more times. Letting out a soft sigh of annoyance, I wait, knowing there’s a chance that Vaax has changed the code, forgotten who I am, or – worst case – is dead.

After about five minutes, the door unlocks and opens, revealing a squat purple groundmech inside of what appears to be a completely abandoned building. It burbles at me in binary, which I have a somewhat tenuous grasp of, though I can gather a general vibe of ‘threatening and inquisitive.’ The droid may not recognize me, but I recognize him. “H5-EE, is that you? I figured Vaax would have sold you for parts by now.”

The little droid whistles and beeps back at me, from which I’m able to infer a flat denial, but its threatening tone fades. It then swivels, starting to make its way deeper into the building, and I follow, letting the door hiss shut behind me. H5 leads me, whether intentionally or not, to a dust-covered elevator leading downward, and now it’s all starting to come back to me – no wonder Vaax survived the war when they have an underground bunker. Suddenly, the dirty, litter-strewn abandoned restaurant is gone, and I find myself in a sort of shady lounge, curtains and cushions of all manner of dark, rich colors strewn generously about, clashing directly with the racks of illegal weaponry. I’m not sure if all these were here already, or if Vaax had been seriously stockpiling blasters now that Ryloth is being disarmed, capitalizing on a black arms market before it even has a chance to form. The place is dimly lit, with a pulse of music that’s kept low. Gauzy hanging fabrics seem to function as walls, partitioning off different sections of this labyrinthine, subterranean ‘marketplace,’ and I can barely make out the silhouette of a twi’lek, sitting at a desk not too far away, cleaning and reassembling blasters.

“You picked a fine scob of a time to come back to Ryloth, you fexsnatcher. Owe me credits, too, last I checked.”

I move closer, slipping my hands out of my pockets to make sure Vaax knows I’m not brandishing anything. Finally, they come into clearer view, and I lay my eyes on Vaax for the first time since the old gun-running days, before the war, before any of this. Paranoid and uncouth, Vaax nonetheless has a strange, wild allure about them – slender and blue-skinned, they sported ear-cones and file-sharpened teeth, deep-set eyes, and darkly angular features. Like bright colors on a venomous insect, everything about them at once attracts, and warns of impending danger.

“You know I had the money for you, Vaax,” I say, holding my hands harmlessly to the sides in a gesture of innocence, “the cartel got in the way, that’s all. You know how the pykes are – give them an inch, they’ll take a parsec. At least I kept the secret cargo hidden, right?”

Vaax lets out a soft growl, then stands, stalking a little closer to me, sizing me up like a wild animal might examine its prey. They’re a little shorter than me, dressed in loose, patchwork clothing in all manner of bright colors, almost clownish were the wearer not so sinister. “Hnuh. Well, let’s just say you won’t be getting any discounts.” They still sport a strong Ryloth accent, something I shed years ago on Corellia. “So – what brings you to Lessu? Moreso, what brings you back into my little web, sleemo? Looking for weapons, mm? Though I always remember you liking the small ones – with that longcoat, you could have two or three on you now, and I wouldn’t know.” Equal parts suspicion and admiration creep into their voice.

I shrug, and smile. They’re completely right, of course – my dark burgundy longcoat conceals quite a few things, weapons included. “So you’re more comfortable,” I say, holding one hand out and slowly reaching for my belt, withdrawing my RSKF-44 heavy blaster pistol and reaching out to gently lay it on the desk Vaax had been sitting at. I’m not giving everything away, of course, as even better-concealed in a holster behind my back is a Blurrg-1120 holdout. For emergencies, of course – life as a smuggler is anything but predictable. “But I’m not here to buy a blaster today.”

“You sure? I’ve got a lot of good shit. Even got a lightsaber; not sure how they work, but H5 managed to bring one in off of jedi who fell against the seppies. You in the market for one of those?”

“Don’t think I’d have much use for a lightsaber,” I chuckle, though it does cross my mind to buy one anyway – never know what the right buyer might pay for one. “Might be interested, though. What I really need is to get back on the Falchion and off of Ryloth… and for that, I’m gonna need a chain code.”

“I assume you realize they’re giving them out for free, no?”

“A fake chain code.”

“That’ll be a lot harder,” they pause, then let out an eerie little giggle, “not impossible though! Not so much a matter of getting a code, as getting verification that’ll either self-scramble or mimic someone else’s identification. That’s a bigger slice-job than H5-EE can handle, but you might be in luck.”

“Talk to me, Vaax.”

“There’s a cartel slicer here in Lessu, works for the Hutts but likes to spend her free time on Ryloth – has a big thing for twi’lek girls, and there’s no better place to find ‘em. Now, she doesn’t work for free, when she does do a non-cartel gig at all, but word on the street says she’s looking for something for her bosses… something I just so happen to have.”

It takes a moment before the pieces of Vaax’s convoluted plan start to click together in my mind. “I get it. I buy the item from you, then trade it to her for a chain code slice. You don’t get your hands dirty, everyone gets what they want. I have that about right?”

“You were always quick, Nura,” Vaax grins, showing off those viciously sharpened teeth.

“How do I know the price of the item is anywhere equivalent to the price of the slice-job?” I arch a brow back at them.

“You know how it is, baby,” Vaax lets out a wistful, dramatic sigh, leaning their weight against the desk, one reddish eye flickering to my blaster, making sure it’s still out in the open. “Anything’s only ever worth what it’s worth to you. The slicer’s name is Kapp Zethri, and she’s a theelin, so you shouldn’t be able to miss her in a sea of twi’leks.”

I bite my lip, thinking for a moment. This would certainly be a smooth way to get back onto the Falchion and get to the Outer Rim… depending on Vaax’s price. “Alright, I’ll bite. What am I buying, and how much are you gonna charge me?”

“That’s the part you won’t like,” they fold their arms across their flat chest. “Ten thousand credits, up front.”

“Ten thousand? That’s as much as I made on the smuggling run to get to Ryloth, if I pay all that I’ll barely be able to buy enough fuel to get off-planet.”

“Look, Nura, these things aren’t easy to come by…” Vaax lopes around to the front of the desk, casually unlocking a lower drawer and sliding it out, reaching in – and pulling out a small pyramid, partially metallic, partially translucent, a reddish glimmer visible within it. They set it firmly down onto the desktop next to my blaster. “Ten thousand. You wanna get off Ryloth, you make the trade, get your chain code, get your ship, and go. But that’s my price. I told you there weren’t gonna be any discounts.”

I look down at the little pyramid. It’s small enough to fit in my palm – such a weird little thing – and I find myself wondering why in the galaxy it could be so expensive. Maybe I can use it as leverage to trade up on this slicer, this Kapp Zethri. Finally, I let out a sigh of resignation. “Fine… you throw in that lightsaber, and we’ve got a deal.”