Influence

“So, even after all I’ve done, you still want to talk to me?” Atton said, his usually snarky voice sounding almost vulnerable, certainly it had an edge of surprise to it.

The slender, powerfully built Jedi standing beside him swung a leg over the co-pilot’s seat and sat down. “Sure. Nobody else on this ship will play Pazzak with me. Well, T3 would, but his probability programs make it a very dull game, since I always lose.”

Atton chuckled at that, and swung around to look at her. She’d finally convinced him to spill his guts about his past, and she’d just told him that she needed to think about it. Now, they were on their way out to Tatooine, as the Exile had recently gotten a craving to hunt herself a Krayt Dragon pearl. And since everyone pretty much did whatever she wanted, that’s what they were doing.

He drifted off for a moment, thinking. Thinking about how much it had disturbed him to suddenly find himself with his blasters out, pointing at a smoking corpse he’d just disposed of because the Exile had gotten tired of the conversation. Thinking of how easy it had been to just slaughter their way though everyone who got in their way… and thinking of how he’d started to enjoy it, that loss of control.

She’d changed, since she’d first broken him out of jail on Peragus. Her skin, originally a warm gold, had gone almost metallic in color, like the blood under her skin had been replaced with quicksilver. Her eyes had paled from deep brown to rich amber, and her smooth black hair was shot through with streaks of white. And yet somehow, the taint of the Dark Side hadn’t turned her into a monstrous crone the way it should have. She was still as desirable as the first moment she’d walked into the room in nothing but a shipsuit.

…Well, she was more terrifying now. But that really only added to it.

And damn it, she was looking at him, with that half smile. The one she used when she caught an amusing thought drifting across the surface of his mind.

“Well, Atton. I’m flattered,” she said, her smile broadening. “Always nice to know that I’m not just holding you all under my rein through fear alone.”

He grinned, amused at that. “Well, maybe that Miraluka… she worships you… kinda the way a mouse would worship a cat, hoping that her absolute obedience will keep you from wanting to squash her like a bug.”

“Mmm… well, one does always need a servant or two around…” she said in agreement.

“Or two? Does that mean I’m just an errand-boy for you?” Atton asked, half teasing, half serious.

She looked over at him. “Maybe…. Think that would be a problem?”

He sighed. “No, probably not…” And, he reflected, that was probably true. He didn’t seem to mind what she did to him anymore. As long as she kept him around, that was enough. Well, mostly enough. At least he had enough time to himself that his overactive imagination could make up a lot of the difference. The only person ever to interrupt him during one of his… imaginings had been that old witch Kreia, and she’d been so disgusted that she never went anywhere near the cockpit again. Everyone else understood to stay clear.

“Well then,” her voice cut into his musings, bringing him back to the present. “If you don’t mind being my errand boy… I’ve got something in the medical bay I could use a hand with,” she said, her face, as always, hard to read.

“Uh… alright,” he said. “Why not just ask Disciple?”

She chuckled slightly. “Because he’s off helping Bao-Dur fix that arm interface.” The Iridonian had run into a spot of trouble while they were cleaning things up on Nar Shaddaa, and his mechanical arm had been giving him problems ever since.

“Then let’s get going,” he said, standing up, making a little, half-mocking half-serious bow to her, gesturing for her to precede him.

She smirked slightly before sweeping out ahead of him, her cloak brushing against him, the soft, dark fabric making his skin tingle slightly. Taking a deep breath, through his mouth so he wouldn’t smell her enticing, delicately spicy scent any more than necessary, he followed her.

The astro droid she seemed so strangely fond of beeped a question at her, and she said, “Yes, go ahead. We’re on auto pilot while in hyperdrive though, it shouldn’t be much of a problem.” With another acknowledging peep, T3 rolled off to take control in the cockpit. “Hey, how long is this errand of yours going to take?” he asked curiously.

She looked over her shoulder and gave him one of those smiles. The one that scared him shitless and made him want to do anything for her all at the same time. “That depends a lot on you, actually,” she said softly, making Atton vaguely worried about what she had in store for him. Mandalore, leaning against the far wall, was silent, and as always, the mask prevented any emotion from showing. Still, he seemed almost amused through his full-body armor.

Atton managed not to trip over the deck plating as she turned the sharp corner into the medical bay. “So what did you need my help with?” he asked, looking around. Nothing seemed broken or out of place, although he was an odd choice for either repairs or heavy lifting assistance…

And then very abruptly, he had his answer, although it wasn’t the one he’d expected. The Exile had pulled him roughly against her, one hand fisted in his shirt, the other on the back of his head, pulling his head down, his mouth against hers. For all of one and a half seconds, he froze, his mind scrambling, not sure what to think, and thinking too much at once, worried about someone walking in, worried about Kreia squashing him like an insect for touching her protégée… and then forgot to worry as her body pressed into his, rubbing up against all the right spots.

A part of him vaguely wondered how long she’d known what he dreamed about, sitting up all alone in that cockpit. Wondered if she had been holding back to tease him, or because she didn’t feel like it… or if she really hadn’t known until now. It didn’t really matter anyway, because he finally had her, really here with him. Belatedly, his arms wrapped up around her back, under the cloak, exploring what little he could feel through the layers of cloth in a Jedi robe.

He was aware of the buckles on his jacket loosening, the stiffened leather dropping to the ground behind him even though she hadn’t unwound her fingers from his hair or shirt. It made him shiver to realize she’d been using the Force to do it. He had seen her destroy entire armies of war droids, drain the life from the enemies around her… to have such a potent weapon used so delicately on him was both terrifying and arousing at the same time.

Her lips left his, but he could feel her mouth curve into a smile against his neck as he started to harden, pushing out against her soft stomach. “Mmm… nice and responsive, good,” she chuckled, her hands trailing slowly down over his body, feeling like they were leaving tracks of fire from her fingertips. He knew she was teasing him, but found it hard to feel resentful, especially as she started to rub her body against his now rapidly hardening cock.

Muttering curses under his breath, his hands stopped their slow exploration of her body and dropped down to undo his painfully tight pants. The Exile let him do it, but then bit his shoulder, almost sharp enough to make him cry out. “Don’t you be getting ahead of me now,” she said, dropping her cloak behind her and starting to undo the outer layer of robes.

“Point taken,” Atton grumbled, knowing there would be a bruise from her teeth in a few hours. He was enjoying the show too much to stay angry for long, though, seeing the dark layers of fabric slide down from her shoulders one at a time, pooling on the floor. It was far too tempting just to watch, though, and soon his hands were fumbling with the last layers of her robes, impatient to touch her bare skin.

She dropped her head back with a low sigh of contentment as he finally pushed the last, silky layer of clothing off of her body, and his hands started to roam freely over her oddly silvery skin. Her breasts, still sitting high and round on her chest even after all those years of war and wandering, were peaked by dusky nipples, which pushed out against his fingers when he brushed over them.

All his most erotic, most carefully constructed fantasies didn’t compare to this, Atton thought, dipping his head to taste one of her so-inviting breasts. Her skin was warm and soft, despite its almost metallic appearance, and was apparently plenty sensitive too, since she gasped as his lips brushed over one erect nipple.

He kicked free of his pants and lifted her up onto the bed, her breasts now just below his head height, and he slowly traced a hand down between her breasts, down her stomach, curving it out over her hip, lightly caressing, teasing. She trembled under his touch, and he liked being able to make her do that, with so little effort.

Suddenly, his almost forgotten shirt was whipped upwards, and pulled back, pinning his arms behind and above him, covering his eyes so she was just a hazy shadow against the room’s lights. “I am going to give you an order now, Atton, and I expect you to follow it completely and to the best of your ability.”

“Alright…” he said, panting slightly, wondering what she wanted from him now, his brain wasn’t really working right and he hoped she didn’t want anything complicated.

“I want you…” she murmured, her lips brushing against his neck, “To take that impressively sized cock of yours,” she was down at his chest, “and fuck me with it. And I don’t want you to stop, for any reason, until we’re all finished up, alright?” She pulled the shirt off all the way, dropping it carelessly behind them.

“That is without a doubt the best order I’ve ever received,” Atton replied, wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling her forward. She dropped back onto her elbows so she wouldn’t fall off the bed, wrapping her legs loosely around his waist as he slowly rubbed his cock against her, eyes closing with pleasure at the contact.

She made a soft, moaning sigh as he pushed into her, just as hot and wet as he’d imagined she’d be, and he had to pause a moment to keep from coming too quickly. He opened his eyes again to see her propped up on her elbows, her head hanging backwards with a lazy smile on her face. Slowly, he started to thrust into her, captivated by watching her body move with him, her breasts shifting enticingly, not quite bouncing yet.

Somehow, with some feat of flexibility that had to be Force related, she shifted her legs up, until they were across his shoulders, and she moaned softly at the difference the angle made. Crossing her legs, the Exile pulled him down to her, kissing him hard, full of the passion that gave her such strength in battle.

Her tongue was briefly in his mouth, stroking against his, then her teeth were on his lip, biting not quite hard enough to cause real pain. The position she was laying in meant her arms were occupied holding her up, leaving her seemingly vulnerable, something Atton decided to exploit while it lasted.

He let his hands roam freely over her body now, returning often to her breasts, squeezing them, addicted to the warm softness of her flesh. Lightly, he rolled her nipple between his fingers, making her squirm slightly under him. Intrigued, he pinched it, pulling on the skin, wondering if she could even feel pain, she never seemed to during a fight.

It turned out that she could, giving voice to a small, whimpering sort of moan as he pulled cruelly on her skin. Atton grinned, her pussy had tightened around his cock when she moaned, apparently his dear Exile was a bit of a masochist. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, “I’d always wondered if you had built up an immunity to pain, or just enjoyed it… now I guess I know,”

She stifled a yelp as he bit her ear hard, still rocking with the rhythm of his thrusting, getting faster now as he warmed up to the task. It sent an embarrassed sort of feeling to her gut to know she reacted so strongly to him getting a little rough with her. And somehow, that mild humiliation only increased the intensity of the sensations. Biting his neck, the Exile muffled a moan she couldn’t hold back as she came.

Atton gasped, feeling both the teeth digging into his skin, and her pussy throbbing around his cock. It took every bit of will power he had to keep from coming himself, not wanting this to be over so quickly. Shaking his head to clear it, wincing slightly from the pain in his neck where she’d bit him, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up. Her legs fluidly slipped down as his arms went around her body, so she was ready when he pulled her up, pushing her against the wall.

The Exile moaned unabashedly, sensitive from coming once already, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, rubbing over his back, up into his hair. He winced as he felt her fingernails digging into his skin, leaving burning lines in their wake, but never stopped pounding into her. The idea occurred to him that she might have bruised hips by the end of this, and the idea appealed to him, making him drive harder.

And then apparently, she got tired of being dominated, and Atton found himself reeling backwards, the shock of cool air on his cock rather unpleasant. “Up on the bed,” she ordered, as he bumped into it. Since she was striding towards him with an almost predatorial look in her eyes, he obeyed, and was rewarded when she crawled over top of him, pushing her hips down, his cock sliding into her welcoming body.

She rode him hard as she straddled him on her knees, her hands moving over his body and arms, squeezing hard enough in places to leave bruises before settling on his shoulders. Atton did his best to keep up, and was surprised at just how much more stamina he seemed to have this way. It let him put his full concentration on thrusting in just that perfect way to make her gasp with pleasure, without the distraction keeping himself upright.

With Atton so distracted, the Exile was free to glance over her shoulder, where an absolutely paralyzed Disciple was standing in the doorway, Bao-Dur looking almost as shocked behind him. One hand pressed down against Atton’s neck, not quite enough to cut off his air, as she lifted the other and beckoned to them.

Disciple tripped over the door frame, only saved a loud, mood-shattering crash by Bao-Dur quickly grabbing his shoulder, and then they were both in the room. “Now, disrobe,” she said softly, never for a moment stopping her movement on Atton, though she watched Disciple intently, fully willing and ready to Force him into it.

“Wha-“ Atton started to say, then was cut off as she increased the pressure on his neck.

“Now, Atton… you promised you wouldn’t stop, regardless of what occurred, hmm?” she said, her voice both hard and seductive at the same time. “Disciple, now!” she snapped, glaring at him. “Or so help me, I’ll get Mandalore to take your place!”

Atton’s hands went pleadingly to her iron grip on his throat, looking up at her, somewhere between fear and intense arousal. She glanced down, saw the assent in his eyes, and released his throat with a smile. “That’s my favourite scoundrel,” she said, chuckling as he drew in a deep breath, coughing slightly.

She didn’t need to turn to know that Disciple had finally obeyed her, and was standing a little ways away, somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. Bao-Dur, as always anticipating her, gave him a shove. As he stumbled up against her, she felt that at least one part of him wasn’t reluctant to join in. Atton slowed his pace down, so she was just gently riding on top of him, and she looked over her shoulder at Disciple. “I do hope that you got out and had a lover or two in that decade of record searching…” she said, smirking. “I’d rather not have to explain what I want you to do.”

He flushed, she grinned, pleased at having nettled him so easily. Still, he lifted his hands, caressing her backside, skirting carefully over the bruises Atton had already inflicted with the wall. It amused her how different the two of them were… Atton was a scoundrel through and through, experienced and willing and sometimes cruel. Whereas Disciple’s hands were gentle, reflexively avoiding injuries with the deftness of a healer. Even when she felt his fingers start to probe at her hole, the pain was slight, more of a pleasure than a distraction.

In fact, he was almost too gentle and careful, and she was almost ready to snap at him to hurry up when he withdrew his fingers. A moment later, his hands were spreading her cheeks apart, and she could feel his cock slowly sliding into her, greased with some sort of lotion. The Exile moaned, even as careful as Disciple was, it burned as he pushed into her. Atton’s gaze caught Disciple’s over her shoulder, sharing a look of incredulity, as if neither one was quite able to believe what they were doing.

Slowly they started to move, making a few false starts before they settled into a rhythm that didn’t crush Atton or the Exile, Disciple kneeling just behind her, his hands on the bed, either side of Atton’s head, trembling slightly. Even stretched out and oiled, her ass was gripping him tight, and he doubted he’d be able to keep himself from coming for long.

They weren’t moving anywhere near as fast now as before, but the double penetration was more than enough to make up for it in the Exile’s mind, and she moaned almost continuously, pressed between the two of them.

Now that Disciple was settled into the role she’d wanted him in, Bao-Dur decided it was time to enjoy himself too. He’d already dropped most of his clothing while watching the proceedings and walked over, his flesh hand lightly stroking his own length. At some point, since he’d joined the Exile’s crew, his body had become streaked with black and red, the mark the Dark Side left on his race. But at moments like this, he found it hard to worry about that.

Somehow, the Exile managed to get an arm out, her hand reaching around and squeezing his ass, pulling him up towards her head. He went willingly, his hand shifting to grab her hair instead, leaning on his mechanical arm, narrowly missing Atton’s head as he set it on the table. “Love the new patterning, Bao,” the Exile murmured, eyes tracing the jagged, tribal black lines curving down his chest and stomach, finer lines running along the length of his cock.

Years ago, back before even Malachor, they’d spent the night together, and had been delighted to find that Iridonians and Humans were compatible species, at least for a one night stand. Of course, he had been brown then, and she had still looked human...

“Glad you like them,” he said, his soft voice more intense now with arousal. She shuddered for a moment as Disciple shifted slightly, pushing deeper than usual into her, then recovered and leaned over slightly, licking the tip of his cock, tracing the lines she’d commented on. Bao-Dur sighed with pleasure, although he had to move his hand from her hair to Disciple’s shoulder, to avoid unbalancing him.

Atton lifted himself enough to start kissing her neck, alternating between gentle caresses and sharp nips, whatever he felt like to make her react more intensely. On her other side, Disciple dropped down, gently working his way along her neck and cheek, his hair falling down over Bao-Dur’s cock, tickling lightly. He teased the Exile’s mouth away from Bao-Dur for a moment, kissing her deeply, feeling her moan lightly into his mouth.

The moment didn’t last for long, though, as Bao-Dur was feeling left out. He shifted his hand from Disciple’s shoulder to the back of his head, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking his head to the side, nudging his cock forwards. Slightly to the Iridonian’s surprise, Disciple obediently opened his mouth, taking in as much of a mouthful as he could handle with his head twisted around the way it was.

The Exile turned to face him too, her tongue and lips working gently over what Disciple couldn’t reach. Atton dropped his head back down, his neck tired from straining up to reach her, and was captivated by watching them, unsure whether to feel left out or creeped out or just enjoy it. He opted for the third idea, his hands moving between himself and the Exile to rub at her breasts again, then pinching both nipples hard.

She gasped, withdrawing quickly enough that she didn’t bite down, but wasn’t about to stop. Bao-Dur didn’t seem inclined to let her stop either, his mechanical arm gripping the back of her neck, pulling her face closer to him. The Exile winced slightly, the durasteel fingers dug into her flesh enough to bruise, but obediently started to lick his cock again, feeling Atton’s hands drop hurriedly down to grip the sides of the bed to keep all three of them from tipping over and falling on top of the Iridonian.

Her cheek brushed against Disciple’s, and she felt his lips move onto her body again. She shivered, even with the intensity of having both him and Atton inside her at once, the light touch of his mouth set her skin tingling. To keep Bao-Dur happy, she pushed herself up a little, wrapping her lips around his cock, sucking it into her mouth. The pressure on her neck lightened a bit when she did, and she sighed with relief, taking him a little deeper.

Looking up at that, seeing her usually arrogant dominant face so willingly sucking cock, Atton decided they should do this more often. He liked seeing her brought down from her high throne, and had to admit, this was the best way of making her seem only human that he could think of. He had a sudden urge to come hard inside her, to mark her as his, and upped the power and speed of his thrusts, glad that neither her or Disciple was laying limply on him. Yet.

Disciple increased his pace to match, and the Exile started to moan loudly, sounding almost in pain, but clearly enjoying herself immensely. Atton’s knuckles were white from gripping the table so hard, his hair damp with sweat as he relentlessly pounded up into her. Against her ear, Disciple’s breath was ragged, his chest rubbing slickly against her back. In an unexpectedly aggressive move for him, he bit down hard on the side of her neck, hard enough she thought she felt her skin tear.

She screamed with delight, and Atton gave a startled yell, her orgasm triggering his own. Disciple was just a moment after, his teeth releasing her skin as he gasped, his body going hyper tense, his mind blank, all his thoughts wiped away by the Exile’s intense emotion. Bao-Dur gasped, remembering to let go of her before his hand tightened reflexively and snapped her neck. His cock shot out great streams of cum into her waiting mouth.

The Exile coughed, unable to swallow everything, and the last stream shot out, across her cheek, spraying onto Disciple, who’d gone momentarily limp against her back. “Damn… I’d forgotten that effect you have on your lovers…” Bao-Dur said, his voice shaking slightly. “It’s got to be the best use for that influence of yours ever discovered…”

***

Author's Note:
As I have never had the luxury of being in the Exile's position, (Or any of them, for that matter) I am sure I've made errors in position that cannot be physically done. Therefore.... um.... I say that they're all Force Sensitives, and can therefore assume positions that would be impossible for normal people. Right? Good.