SWTOR: A Smuggler, Not A Patriot 08

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Even criminals have lines they don't cross. Of many kinds.
2.4k words
4.35
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Part 8 of the 11 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 01/29/2012
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Prologue:

There Are Limits

Inspired by the new Bioware MMO set in the Star Wars universe. I own none of the characters, obviously.

*

Ensign Peters was dead. When Sulmad had threatened to go to his superior, he'd gone for his blaster. Fool or not, slow or not, ally (allegedly) or not you pulled a blaster on the smuggler, you died. Shooting to wound was for the holos. His weapons were overpowered anyway.

The offer to let him run the minefield in exchange for a share of the take from betting if he survived was bad. The fact that they made the same offer to refugees was worse. The fact that they didn't discriminate by age was horrifying. The fact that the withheld the supplies that were supposed to feed the refugees so they'd have to run if they and their families wanted to eat was over the line.

Sulmad's line wasn't drawn the same place as most people. It couldn't be if he was going to survive as a free spacer. Especially now that his ship had been stolen. But there were lines, even for him. He wasn't Sith. Still, he would have been satisfied if they'd shut down their operation. And he surely would have been satisfied if their superiors had done it for him. But he'd made a mistake, thinking that Peters would back down. Ensign Ta had more sense. For all the good it had done the Republic officer.

With Peters dead and Ta's blaster on the floor where she'd carefully dropped it along with her belt, the other 'troops' hadn't had her sense, but between his blaster and the refugees' rage, they'd died to the last. Ta wasn't so lucky.

The beautiful black officer was naked. Or mostly. Her uniform hadn't been removed, so much as it had been shredded by human muscle and nail and fury. You'd have thought the fact that there were families all together would limit what they would do. You'd be wrong. The children were kept far away, of course, lest one try the course to save their parent the risk, but fear for those children, anger over their hunger...

The women were the worst. Their wrath was terrible and untempered (mostly) by lust, fear, or cultural programming. Ta would already be dead if not for them. They swarmed around the woman, directing their husbands, sons, fathers and brothers in their tormenters violation. Sulmad could have stopped it. But he remembered the look on the skeletal face of a child and he could not bring himself to deny them their vengeance, though neither would he participate, or even, as Ta screamed briefly, before a cock was shoved into her mouth, a woman held it open with the spoon from the soldier's multitool as other repositioned her so another man could take a shot at her, now well lubricated, ass.

The betters, unarmed, were suffering as well, if there was less of a mill surrounding them. Sulmad ignored it, merely grateful that they hadn't followed the common practice on his homeworld on taking their children with them to see the bloodsports they were betting on. Then he would have had to interfere. Though maybe then, he wouldn't have had too, because they wouldn't have been able to.

He glanced back at Ta. A woman was whipping her breasts with the belt the soldier had dropped. They would have been able to.

A shrug at human nature emerged from his peasant soul and he helped himself to the credits in their account. They'd do the refugees no good. Unlike the supplies. He amble in that direction, thinking that they should probably get those distributed. Fairly. Unless they wanted an even worse riot. That violence could turn on each other just as easily as it had on their tormenter. Rage not being the most sensible of emotions.

Sulmad was not the only one with that idea. After chasing off a very large would-be thief, he settled down at the console to see what all they had in the roomy and now unsecured supply tent. Once in the system, he checked to make sure that no one was scheduled to arrive for a while. The only reason the scam had worked so long was that the outpost was remote, but it never paid to be incautious. With that done, he set about doing calculations based on how many people were in the camp and what was in the tent. Much of the supplies had been sold. Probably why the supply run drivers hadn't talked.

The person to arrive wasn't a thief. Not as she walked right in without any attempt at concealment and was completely unarmed. Older than him, almost forty, she had the look of a woman who'd once been fairly well fed, but the prolonged hunger hadn't left her skin hanging, so she couldn't have been particularly heavy. She still had a double handful of breast, ah, he noted the slight dampness of her vest, she was still breast-feeding. That explained everything, as the mothers and children had first call on the food. Brown skin and almond eyes suggested she wasn't from Ord Mantel, but she wore the outfit of a port worker, though the usually tight clothing was just a hair loose on her frame.

She extended a well muscled arm, as her vest left her arms bare he could see that she was a strong woman, even if he hadn't watched her break a trooper's neck with her bare hands earlier. He shook it, wondering which of them would win if she tried the old game of squeezing. She didn't try. "Ming Fe. You can call me Ming, everyone does." She introduced herself straightforwardly. The top of her head barely came up to his shoulder, but her eyes seemed to look right through him. It wasn't a good feeling for a man with plenty to hide.

"Sulmad." He said in a tone that didn't invite inquiry into his surname. "What can I do for you Ming?" The tone vanished as he continued, being replaced with his usual, talking to a beautiful woman voice.

"Same as you, I expect. We need to get these supplies sorted out, or that's going to get even messier." She said, distaste for the actions outside clear in her voice.

Sulmad nodded, showing her the files he'd pulled up and moving away to get started on the sorting. Ming approached a few moments later and joined him wordlessly. The quiet sound of work was punctuated by a savage female request for a tent spoke and a scream from Ta.

"You could stop this." Ming pointed out. It was an observation, not a request.

"Yes."

"Probably without killing any of them."

"Yes."

"May I ask why you don't?" Ming asked carefully not looking at him.

"When I was a young man, a great many bad things happened to those I cared for. My revenge was...not like that. Rape doesn't interest me. But...there are worse things than rape. I am in no position to judge them." He intoned, truthfully, for no reason he could find.

"But you were in a position to judge the soldiers?" Ming asked.

"There are lines even I didn't cross. Betrayal of a duty I volunteer for is one."

Ming turned to face him. "My man went on the run. Never came back."

"I'm sorry." Sulmad replied. It was his turn not to look at her.

"So am I. I'd like to thank you." She said.

"You're welcome." Sulmad said. This was not how it was supposed to go. It was messier. More intimate. Damn that whore Alma, she'd stirred up the past and now it was up.

"Please look at me." Ming almost begged. Her voice soft, too soft for a dock worker.

He did. Her top was off already, revealing breasts heavy with milk. Dirty black hair fell to her waist. There might not have been water for washing, but she could brush it. He knew if he touched it, it would be silk. Stocky legs came up to a slim waist and flat stomach. Nothing like a starvation diet to lose the baby weight. "You don't have to." Sulmad said. Turning down sex wasn't something he did. Usually.

She stepped up to him, rising on tiptoe and kissed him gently. "I want to." Was her only response. Well, except unbuckling his belt and tossing it away. His shirt and pants followed quickly, as did his underwear. A strong grip pulled him down onto the pile of furs that was being stored in the corner (some unlucky person's bet, though they were even more unlucky if they were out there now).

Soft lips pressed against his as her hands fell to his cock, manipulating it with a surprising expertise that brought him erect more quickly than he'd expected. He pulled back just a little so he could look at her. Where Alma was a perfect statue of ice (at least until he'd melted her), Ming was a rough hewn wood, but so much more alive and warm. His hand returned the favor, running over her little brown body, teasing her and tracing little patterns in her flesh. A quick glance showed it wasn't enough, so he turned his attention to kissing her lips, then moved lower, skipping her breasts for now and continuing downward until he reached her lower lips. Which he kissed and licked, eagerly, thoroughly and professionally. Strong hands clutched at his head, trying to push him into her rapidly dampening pussy. His hair was short enough that she couldn't get a grip, but she was busy tasting her. She was surprisingly sweet and responded faster than he'd expected. Maybe the show outside wasn't so distasteful to her after all, or maybe she'd just been without a man for longer than she liked. Either way, she was soon wet as the nearby ocean. He kept going, drilling down with his tongue, teasing her clit with teeth and tongue and the occasional finger, until he felt her gush.

Ming squeaked. An incongruous sound from such a strong woman. Sulmad's smile could have lit up the room, not that it needed it, the overhead lighting made it quite clear that they were both quite good looking and awfully satisfied with themselves, if for different reasons. Now he slid in easily, grateful for the contraceptive and immune implants he'd had installed after the first time he'd charmed his way into a bed and almost come away with a fatal disease, or, worse, as a father.

She tasted herself on his lips, kissing him wantonly as she eagerly wrapped her legs around the smuggler pulling him deeper and deeper. Hands sought breasts, asses, balls, hair, cheeks, anything of the other they could get as they tried to climb inside each other, even more than they already were. They made love in silence. Hardly surprising. Sulmad was comfortable with the language of fucking, charming and even degradation, but this was something else. Ming wasn't speaking either. Whether she was imagining the man she'd lost, or just lost in the pleasures of the flesh, he couldn't say. It bugged him, but a sudden roll of her hips and squeeze of her pussy drove that thought from him, along with all thought.

He lowered his head from her piercing gaze hunching awkwardly to get at her breasts. A sharp suck brought a spurt of warm milk forth and a gasp from the woman beneath him. The feeling was one she was used to by now, but not in that context. The mixed messaging was good. Damn good. As had been his tongue. Determined to return the favor, her feet drummed on his ass, pulling him in and she set her cunt walls to rippling, one hand cradled his balls, massaging them gently as the other cradled his head against her breast. She used every trick she'd learned as a Hutt slave girl to please her partner, for he was surely pleasing her.

He slid up to her. "You're going to make me cum."

She moaned back. "Do it. I want it in me."

"What about—"

"I already did, won't again for a while. I'm not multi-orgasmic." She answered, honestly, for some reason.

"So this performance is all for my pleasure?" He asked, pulling back.

"Yes." She answered truthfully.

"That..." She froze for a moment, then he grinned. "Is the sweetest thing ever. Well, besides your pussy. Damn that stuff should be candy."

Her laugh was diamonds on steel. His was the whisper of steel on leather. Strong arms and legs pinned them together as he filled her with his cum. Balls resting on her pussy, they lay together for a minute or two.

"You drifting off?" Ming asked.

"You're a good pillow." He pulled up a bit and kissed her lightly. "Wrap that beautiful hair around us and—"

He was cut off by a surprising stream of milk smacking him in the face. For the second time in a five minutes, Sulmad laughed, as did Ming. Before they could continue, more screams from outside distracted them and broke the mood.

"Back to work?" She asked.

"Back to work." He agreed, slipping from her tight pussy, at last.

Under Ming's gaze, he couldn't stand it anymore. A few minutes later he went out and put a blaster bolt in the prisoners. The refugees scampered into the tent with the look of children who'd been caught pulling the wings off bugs. Or, in some cases, the looks of men with a serious case of blue balls. But none stood up to the angry smuggler.

As supplies flowed out, bodies piled in. With all the supplies distributed, Sulmad sent them to the nearest refugee camp and burned the other one to the ground. They didn't need to be told to come up with a good story. Though he'd have preferred they not mention him at all, rather than make him the hero who defeated an entire Separatist battalion when the troops were massacred by an ambush.

And that's the story of how Sulmad became a Hero of Ord Mantel.

He never saw Ming again. They could see each other too clearly for a relationship to be a possible. She agreed. In fact, she said it first. Along with the fact that he wasn't ready to be a father it was a no brainer. And he'd always been good at those.

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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 11 years ago

Was expecting a little closure still on the trooper but still good regardless

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