Cad Bane being nursed back to health by a girl after crashing really badly on a planet. She also fixes Todo for him and tries giving him money, when he is recovered enough to go, for his troubles, becauseshe doesn't exactly know who he is and she is probably a bit naive.
Smut is optional if you can fi d a way to put it in!
Title: Damn you, Fennec Shand!
AO3
Word count: 7.9
Dear Anon, your wish is my command ( and boy let me tell you, there’s always a way to fit smut in – in fact, maybe my smuttiest Cad Bane fic yet to date. Thanks for that! )!
Warnings: Smut, explicitly detailed. Like, REALLY graphic. Description of alien anatomy ( xeno dick(s) ), tongue-fucking, face riding, rough kissing, pillow biting, dirty talk, rough sex, vaginal penetration, and mildly dubious consent. Biting, blood, angst, feels, naked/forced cuddling, caretaking along with one grumpy Duros - A.K.A. a sickfic.
Notes: Pagodon is a planet featured in the Mandalorian that is populated by the fearsome ravinak located somewhere in the Outer Rim. This story takes place after the episode of Bad Batch entitled “ Bounty Lost” where Fennec Shand sabotages Cad Bane’s ship and leaves him stranded on Bora Vio. By the way he holds himself, it is evident he is injured. Well, I fuck him up even more.
References to Duros anatomy comes from my own concepts of how I imagine things might work as Bane is noted in several different places to be “reptilian.” I tend to favor the double-dong ( hemipenis ). ;D
I don’t know how this wound up being so long! Hope you enjoy! Comments / likes / kudos/ reblogs all greatly appreciated!
—————
Alarms were blaring, the Duros experiencing a feeling he wasn’t used to; one of fear and overpowering concern for his well-being. His ship had been sabotaged back on Bora Vio by that accursed witch of a woman Fennec Shand – his bounty lost, and all his credits - the only thing he had to show for it were his extensive injuries, bruised ribs most likely, as the pain in his midsection had yet to subside or dull. His face ached; his whole body from her forceful punches and her kicks. She was fast, adept at her profession – he had been caught off guard, nearly killed, and it had taken him two days to get off the kriffin’ ground.
“Todo! Why’s de warnin’ ssignal for de energy accumulator goin’ off! Ah thought ye said de ssystem was recharged!”
“It appears that I have failed to properly solder one of the energy accumulator’s uptake lines after it was severed by that woman! We are losing ship functions at an astounding rate!”
“Ah'm aware o’dhat, ye chiphead!"
“There is no need for name calling sir, I-"
“If ye don’t shut de kark up, Ah'm throwin’ ye out de airlock!”
Things were compiling atop each other, getting out of hand, more noises sounding in a raucous discordance from all directions, The Justifier’s main console bleating at him like a wounded animal, though they were in realspace and there wasn’t much that he could do in the off chance of changing things. The indicator for the energizer was added to the fray – it could take days to fix, and by then he’d freeze to death; run out of oxygen – he wasn’t about to send out a distress beacon, either. No telling who or what would try to pick him up.
“Just where de sskrag are we, anyway?!” They had been taken out of hyperspace by the loss of power, Cad Bane slamming his hand down on one particular, square button. A map of the current system was pulled up; they were on the outskirts of the one they’d left – Lido, a part of space he wasn’t too familiar with, though close enough to the Outer Rim to give him a small amount of confidence – hopefully they wouldn’t wind up in some desolate, Maker forsaken place.
“I would tell you, but I am not permitted to speak.”
Cad Bane growled, ignoring his smart aleck comment, knowing the droid was trying to get the best of him; his personality lacking in his ability to read a room, even in the face of certain doom.
“'Spose we betta try an’ land dhis thing, no danks te ye!” The nearest planet was half a parsec, the Duros taking over. He chose manual operation, as Todo was an example of omission in his derelict of duty – he ought to have the damn droid reprogrammed, though instead he barked out a set of orders – it didn’t hurt to be prepared.
“Ah think we have enough juice te kick us de rest of de way dhere, but get ready fer a crash landin’! Betta magnetize; we’re jumpin’!” Cad pushed a lever fully forward, the stars stretching out before his eyes, as the last little bit of energy left in his ion engines boosted him across the short length of hyperspace that resembled a nighttime sky.
It took mere minutes; seconds; before they fell out into realspace a second time, right above the atmosphere of an unknown spheroid that looked arctic, somewhat foreboding or uninviting, though The Justifier had been pulled in by its gravity.
“Todo, if Ah die ‘cause’o’yer negligence, ye betta engage de sself-destruct ssequence Ah programmed, or Ah'm comin’ back te haunt yer metal chassis!”
“But sir, I hold untold quantities of data that may be val-”
“Exxactly! Don’ want no one knowin’ m’business! Jus’ do it.”
Todo sighed though he had no lungs with which to expel air from, shaking his head a minutia as the alarms got louder, the fuselage beginning to rattle as they started to descend into a swarm of billowy, white clouds. Cad pulled up on the controls, tried to ignite his retro thrusters to curb the impact, though they sputtered and died out. He released the landing gear and grit his teeth. He closed one eye, realizing he was about to crash into solid ice.
---
You were a resident of the pale blue dot known as the planet Pagodon; a waitress at the one establishment worth a snot on this freezing landscape; the Public House, a part of the settlement known as Ferryman’s Ranch was your stomping ground, though few people came to visit here. You mostly served locals, riffraff, a crook or two, your life was more than boring, that is until you found yourself on break.
You stepped outside only to bear witness to a trail of engine smoke following behind a nearly decommissioned starship. It was coming in rapidly, headed for the barren wastelands Pagodon was known for, and you were overcome with worry for the poor soul left aboard, as ravinaks were living beneath its glacial layers. They were dangerous; attacked at a moment’s notice – you ran inside, yelled to your boss you would be right back, though knowing that was more or less a lie.
You went home first as fast as your legs could carry you, gathering up a various assortment of things that might be needed: a durashelter and blankets, your trusty blaster, a medpac, a small toolkit, and something warm to drink held within a thermajug.
You hopped on your speeder bike well equipped for treading your planet’s unique, frigid surface - it was coming nightfall, you only hoped you wouldn’t be too late.
---
You approached the crash site; saw a small light in the distance - it was moving, but just barely. The closer you got to it, the more curious you became. Once you were near enough you realized it was a droid of some sort - he was missing one of his little legs, though the one left to him had its rocket thruster activated. He was spinning around in circles; he looked downright distraught; shaken, though you were sure he couldn’t experience emotions, yet he kept repeating the same old thing. He seemed broken, out of sorts, or at least confused – not a good sign, but you hoped to remedy his ails.
“Mister Bane – M-Mis – Mis- Mister Bane. The ship- the shiiip.. shiiiiip...”
He cycled through that series of words again, thinking the person with the name of Bane was this droid’s owner as you conked the poor thing right on his access panel with your balled up fist. He sputtered out, shook his head, his golden eyes blinked; the light cut out, but only for a moment, then he was back online.
“Oh! Hello! Who are you? Where am I? Where is Bane? Where is my other leg?”
You ignored his questions and pressed on - he managed to follow you somewhat, gliding along behind you like a lost hound looking for its way home. He teetered on his axis, somewhat destabilized. “Bane is still inside, isn’t he? Oh, I do hope he’s still alive… “
Todo had his own fears to deal with, thinking he didn’t want to have to initiate his self-destruct - he was loyal to his master without a fault, even if that meant the end of him.
From the outside, the ship didn’t look too badly damaged, though it had nosedived into the ice below. It had skidded a few feet but hadn’t managed to break through. You were wary the ravinaks could show up any moment now; they could recognize footsteps, pressure put on the planet’s surface – the droid had been floating, but you were a sentient who walked on two able-bodied legs.
The door was cracked, stuck halfway open, you skirted around the corner and stepped inside - seems the droid had managed to escape somehow. You were careful as you inched down the narrow hall to the starship’s cockpit – you had a bad feeling about all this.
Sparks flew from a cable dangling down before you; you circumnavigated around it, careful not to shock yourself. The lights were dim, nearly nonexistent, as you came upon the scene of a man laid out on the floor - that droid’s other leg was still magnetized to the damaged ship’s interior.
He was weak, struggling to right himself - he couldn’t seem to stand. He kept lifting his body up, bent at the elbows, thinking he should have taken his own advice. His heavy captain’s chair had dislodged itself, pinning him down by the back of one spindly leg - every time he moved, his chest met the floor soon after, Cad having been thrown forward against the windscreen, and his already injured ribs had taken the brunt of it.
The Duros coughed, or at least that’s what you thought he was – the green blood he retched up onto the floor confirmed it. He was bleeding internally, and that’s when he saw you – somehow the large hat he was wearing hadn’t fallen off during the violent crash.
He reached out a single hand as if asking for assistance, though apprehensive; he didn’t speak; his red eyes contracting at the blaster on your hip. You weren’t aware, but the alien thought you might be another bounty hunter, law enforcement, someone to kick him while he was down.
You stepped closer and he tried to push himself up again using the aid of one arm only, his other hand gripping at the handle of one LL-30 BlasTech pistol, but he was too debilitated to even withdraw the weapon - the man soon after succumbing to unconsciousness.
More sparks flew, but this time off the console – you were unsure of the state of things, though you were a fairly good mechanic - you had fixed mobile objects like your own speeder bike, your bosses hovercar – you thought to have a look once you were less preoccupied.
You pulled this man named Bane along, having freed him from his imprisonment with all the strength that you could muster, removing the hefty seat that had entrapped him to gather him up beneath his arms.
The droid was happy to see you had returned; found his master, as he spun around haphazardly. He posed a question; one he was dreading an answer for. “Is Bane dead?”
“No, but I have to comm for help. I can’t move him like this on my bike alone, or you.” You pressed the link on your communication device, calling the outpost some few miles off. You requested assistance in the form of a vehicle big enough to haul a droid and an injured man; to tow a starship, though they said there was a storm brewing in the distance, and it might very well be a half rotation before they could reach you – it put a damper on your spirits.
You set up the durashelter; it would block most of the wind. It was insulated, though the nights on Pagodon were even colder. You were careful not to disturb the ground too much, treading lightly with a gentle step. You laid out blankets, your sleeping bag, but the man had stirred - he coughed up blood again.
You monitored his breathing by the rising and falling of his chest; it was shallow; you withdrew the medpac as the little droid was frantic. “Miss! My scans indicate that his vital signs are unstable; he was badly injured in the crash; I am afraid he has suffered internally. Please, is there anything you can do for him?”
You unzipped the pouch to withdraw a stim-shot - you had an idea, but you needed to wake him up first; you decided to try to rouse him on your own before injecting him with something.
You took off one of your warm gloves, pressed your tepid hand to his blue cheek encased in black; you whispered to him, coming in close, using the name the droid had given you, though you had no idea who this man was. “Bane? Can you hear me?”
No response: his skin was frigid, colder than you expected him to be. Your exhales came out in small, transparent puffs, denoting the drop in temperature as the sun had nearly set, though on this planet you could always see your breath. You gently shook him with your other hand; his lids fluttered, two crimson, egg-shaped eyes revealed to you for just a moment, yet the Duros was too groggy to stay awake.
You readied the pneumatic dispenser in your hand, pressed it between your knees to hold it steady, then loaded the stimulant to administer the shot – they flew open then; those horizontal pools of red that might as well be magnets as they drew you in.
You had momentarily forgotten your other hand was on his face; he took you by the arm, yanked it back before he sat up straight. You gasped, though his actions were short-lived. He released you, groaning out in pain and anguish, his arm going to rest against his wounded midsection. The Duros’ breath was labored as he tried to speak, however his voice came out unfriendly; angry, callous with his droid, and perhaps you for touching him, his accent something you had never heard before; laced with the cybernetic modulation of his breathing apparatus. “Todo! Wha - what happened? Jus’ wh- where’n de eight Stalbringion hells are we?”
“Mister Bane! Are you all right?!” The one-legged droid appeared curious, though ecstatic that his master was still alive, answering him his question held over from before the crash. “I believe this is Pagodon, sir. Is that correct, Miss?”
Your gaze traveled between the two of them before the one named Bane spoke up again; you had already lost your focus – though this man was injured, he was handsome, and you had it in your heart to help him if only he would allow you to.
“It’s so blasted cold! How cahn ye stand it?”
“You get used to it.” you stated quietly, your eyes centered on the Duros. His fiery gaze shifted towards you; his eyes only half opened - his lids were drooping, his hand still gripping where the pain was. You realized the stimulant seemed to be wearing off already – you had to act fast – you dug into your medpac once again and handed him a small vial of something; a dose of bactade you hoped would heal him from the inside out.
“Drink this, it will help.”
“Ain’t drinkin’ nothin’ ye give me, girl.” Cad Bane was an untrusting man; he rarely partook of food or drink he didn’t watch be prepared. It was unthinkable that he would swallow something a stranger had given him, no matter his condition.
He went to stand, put one knee up, pushed down on both hands – he made the motions, but then cried out. His grip on himself tightened as he fell back. He had bent over in exasperation and distress, Todo hobbling forward on one leg still attached, begging his master to accept your kindness. “Please, sir. You are severely wounded. I don’t want you to die as then I would have to self-destruct, and I am sure that it is a very unpleasant experience.”
Bane was squinting, his words pushed out of him in a tone of voice that betrayed his current state. “Sso glad t’know you care…”
“It’s only bactade – listen to your droid. He’s right.”
“Don’ tell me what te do, lil' lady. No one orders me around.”
“Fine, then die.” You made a movement to get up, frustrated, realizing this was a lost cause. Why risk your life, weather the coming storm, when this Duros was only going to be rude to you?
You gathered up your belongings, made to leave him there. You decided to let the durashelter remain; he would need it, but it was then he seemed to come around.
“Maybe Ah's bein’ too hasty…” He grit his teeth, bared his fangs to you, more so in pain than out of anything you had done. It came out quiet, like it had been hard for him, something he wasn’t used to; forced to be polite. “Yer not … leavin’ me ‘ere, are ye?’
You handed him the vial again, and he took it this time. He was nearly too enfeebled to undo the cap, his oversized, cerulean colored fingers struggling to spin it the right direction before he finally threw it back. He swallowed it, made a face that was disgusted with the taste; his tongue idly licked the remnants from his mouth, and you noticed it was forked; unusual to you. “S’awful. No more’a dhat.”
Even though this bacta drink might aid him, Bane was no stranger to his temperature dropping fast; this planet was a poor one to get stuck on as a Duros, but he was unable to help himself. “Feelin’ tired … maybe Ah jus’ …”
He sank back on his forearms, one hand still idly resting against his person, that droid of his buzzing around in rings, not able to completely right himself. “Bane, you are in danger! I sense your biological functions are beginning to slow down.”
“S’normal…” he mumbled out. “Just so … b-blasted … c-cold.”
“Miss? May I speak with you a moment?”
Bane had seemed to of fallen back even further, barely keeping his head up, his eyes open; if he weren’t blue already, you were sure he would have been by now. You followed the droid back to the ship, pausing several feet away, he was frank with you; it never failed to surprise you the personalities these little machines could carry.
“I am afraid this atmosphere’s too much for him. Bane is too proud to admit this, but he is slowly dying. He is Duros - his internal temperature must be regulated or else he’ll freeze to death as he does not have the appropriate attire for this weather! His insulated breathing suit can only do so much! Our trip here was unplanned as you might be able to imagine...”
“Well, let’s get him in the durashelter.” you offered, meaning to turn around. The droid shifted, slid in front of you, asking you a somewhat peculiar favor.
“I am afraid that might not be good enough. Bane needs a source of heat, and fast. Our ship’s power… The energy accumulator…” The little droid had lifted both his hands, fingers idly tapping against each other as if he felt embarrassed, tiny clinks issuing forth between the awkward stretch of silence, perhaps not wanting to admit that this was all his fault, or at least it felt that way.
“Would you so mind?”
“Would I mind what?” You thought you knew what he was getting at, but it was hard to verbalize; it had to be confirmed; there was no way you would think to do it otherwise.
“You are warm. I am not. I would take your place If I could. Please, do not allow Bane to cease functioning.”
You glanced to the Duros in the distance; he had laid back again, though the stim-shot had served its purpose – you got the medicine in him. You wished those nerf herder’s at the outpost would hurry up; you were lucky so far in terms of the ravinaks not attacking; you only hoped he would last the night.
“But-” Your eyebrows knitted in defeat, somewhat unsure, but wanting to do what was best for him, even if he seemed to be a jerk. “All right…”
“Oh, thank you! It is said skin-to-skin is best.”
“You’re- wait, what?”
“When a person suffers from near to hypothermia, it is said that-”
“Don’t push your luck!” You almost thought to stomp away from him - you were cognizant enough to know better; those feisty creatures might hear you; feel your angry footsteps. You paused above the now unconscious Duros, canting your head a bit; he was sort of cute laying there defenseless, yet you knew his snark might come back to bite you in the ass by tomorrow morning if he managed to survive.
You dragged him to your makeshift shelter, placed him atop your sleeping bag. You cuddled up beside him, wrapped your arms around his chest, one of your legs resting upon his. You pulled the blankets up, tucked him in like you would a child – thought twice; unhooked the canister of oxygen from his apparatus; the lengthy tubes; they would only get in his way of laying flat. In addition, you took that silly hat off and placed it to the side.
His chest rose and fell softly, though he didn’t rouse. He was still shivering within that same hour, then another came and went. He hadn’t died yet, but you thought about what the droid had said, contemplating a course of action before you sighed out loud.
You unfastened his protective outer vest, unzipped his tunic and his trousers next, and with some effort managed to remove them along with his steel-toed boots and the fancy blasters holstered on his hips. You had to find the mechanism with which to unlock and dislodge his forearm gauntlets before you could take them off - it was almost impossible, frustrating – he had so many contraptions, gizmos, and strange things on – you wondered what he needed all those for.
He was left in a skintight suit of black armorweave you suspected, though the droid said it was insulated – you unzipped it to expose his chest; his waist; his injured ribs. There was bruising all across his abdomen. You reached into your medpac, withdrew more bacta, this time in the form of a medicated patch. You removed the packaging and gently placed it on the largest of his wounds – he flinched, though didn’t wake from his involuntary hibernation.
You lamented to yourself, shook your head, not believing you were about to do this. You took off your heavy coat, pulled off your sweater and your shirt. The bra came next; you were left bare breasted - you refused to take off the rest of your apparel, curling up again next to this grumpy man who had crash-landed on your planet.
His skin was cold no doubt, like the ice that made up the ground outside your shelter; you honestly felt bad for him, one hand coming up to stroke his chin; his cheek, the skin left exposed to you that wasn’t hidden beneath his skull cap – he made a sound. It was a rumble in his throat, low, but not unpleasant – perhaps a noise of protest, though he didn’t rise to consciousness. You held him there the whole night through.
---
Cad Bane had woken up with an alarming start – he was trapped under something - he did not move. He stared at the ceiling of the durashelter, though he felt warm; comfortable. His gaze darted around the confines of the space before he realized you were laying next to him under thick fur blankets.
His first instinct was to shove you, yell something, throw the blankets off - get mad at nothing and everything all at once - but you were sleeping soundly, and he realized you were nearly naked - Cad Bane couldn’t help but notice your large breasts were pushed up against him; a part of a woman he was known to favor – it almost quelled his rage.
Another thing he noted: your hand was on his face. The warmness of it was cupping his gaunt cheek the best it could. He shifted, turned his head a fraction of an inch – he thought you pretty, though his eyes had narrowed. He didn’t know how he felt about all this.
He decided to try and remove you without disturbing you too much; his arm beneath the blankets changed position. One gloved hand rose up, and he realized he was stripped of everything he had been wearing, though instead of getting angrier he was surprised you had gone to all that trouble of undressing him, of cuddling him; showing him affection, though in light of death.
His reedy fingers were placed atop yours against him, his palm encasing your soft flesh. He did the unthinkable – he pressed it to himself – you would never notice, you were resting peacefully, but your eyes had fluttered. He caught on quickly; retracted his appendage, though his sudden jerky movements caused him to writhe in pain.
“Dagnabbit…” he pushed the many layers off, exposing you, your chest and his, though for you it was more embarrassing as you blushed full flush, your cheeks ruddy as he sat up – he examined you without a hint of inhibition as he gripped just below the patch of bacta.
He stared, blinked those ruby magnets, took in your mammalian, shapely bosom, though just as you thought – his snide remarks cut deeper than a vibroknife. “Sspose ye had yer way wit’ me – don’t remember anythin’ – must nahtta’ been te good a time.”
You were overcome with anger; how dare he think you would take advantage of him. Without contemplating further you pulled your arm back and brought it forward, aiming to slap him across his grouchy, glaring face.
He caught you midway there; fangs bared. His large, spidery digits nearly engulfed your entire hand. You gasped, not knowing what he planned to do, and you hadn’t thought things through. He dragged you near to him, a half inch from his surly countenance – his steady gaze bore into yours, filled with seeming menace; he had all the appearances of being ornery - right before he kissed you.
He let your wrist go, brought both his large hands up – he cupped your cheeks almost gently. You blushed again but for different reasons, not sure what he was playing at or where this was even going, though you hadn’t thought to stop him – in fact, you didn’t mind.
You felt he must be feeling better as he dropped one cool extremity to knead and encage your breast; his tongue prodded at your lips, asking for entrance – you permitted him, and he pushed against you harder then.
His fingers gripped you, dug into your skin; he pulled you in, forced his tongue almost halfway down your throat through your open mouth. Your nipples had become erect at his cold touch; the tips of rough finger pads tweaking; stroking its pert point.
A growl emanated from deep within his larynx; primal; an expression of his lust. His other hand lowered, gripped your mound through your skintight pants. You pulled away, expelled a breath of air out of surprise even though you suddenly found yourself aroused.
He stared into your eyes as he massaged you, his entire palm cradling your increasing enlivened sex; he whispered, though it came out more as a grumble - the intonations; the inflection of his voice like the utterance of a beast who could sense you were in heat, and him prepared to rut.
“Ss’my turn now, lil’ lady …”
“But I didn’t-” you began, though common sense suddenly overtook you. You gently braced against his attractive frame with the flat of your open hand. “You’re injured, you can’t possibly-”
“Ain’t dhat bad off…” He leaned his body forward, slowly - you knew he was trying to circumvent his pain. You felt his teeth first, a nip, before his tongue trailed from the arc of your tender neck to just below your ear. You shivered as he tasted you, Cad enjoying your delicious flavor; a bit of sweet mixed in with salt, but he didn’t stop.
"Don't like owin' people," he confessed, the tip of his forked points flitting against the opening of your ear canal - it caused your body to spasm as your one hand still upon him clawed into his scarred and beaten chest. You wondered how many times he had brushed with death, and his anatomy was suddenly fascinating to you; he didn’t have nipples; areolas, though his pectorals were firm and fit.
The droid was outside waiting, he had heard voices within the shelter, he piped up, though obviously low on charge. He was quiet, perhaps not wanting to disturb, but disturb he did. “Mister Bane? Are you all right? Is he alive, Miss?”
“Alive enough te weld yer mouth shut if ye don’t kriff off.” He had pulled away just far enough so he wouldn’t deafen you with his complaint, the droid needlessly apologizing before you heard his little thruster tote him off to an unknown place. You felt bad for him, but didn’t mention it, as Cad started to tug at the edges of your remaining garments; he was making little headway. You would need to help. Despite him saying otherwise, he was still very vulnerable, susceptible to injury.
“Please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself – your health comes first – I think that-”
“Dhat’s yer problem – ye think too much …” He moved in to caress your flesh, your supple breasts, the cut between them, down to your belly button. You sat upon your knees with your pants halfway shimmied afield from your broad hips. He dipped down low, meant to finish what you’d started, or perhaps start something of his own - he involuntarily cried out, though he closed it off between his saw-toothed fangs, one arm coming to bear down upon his aching abdomen.
That was the straw that broke the bantha’s back. You gently pried him up; his brow ridge was furrowed, hating all of this; his seeming inability to even move in certain directions. His internal organs were still healing, though the bacta and your warmth had saved his life – yet that didn’t mean he couldn’t project his sour mood.
“I told you.”
“An' now Ah’m tellin’ ye.” He took you by your hair; it’s roots; loose strands of it falling about your face; he tugged you forward with him as he leaned back, laid out again on your sleeping bag. He held on with one large hand even as his breathing hitched, the other one being used to yank each side of your trousers down in turn.
“Get em’ off before Ah rip’em off!” he seethed, and you complied, feeling slightly alarmed, though strangely curious, turned on, and feeling heated, annoyed that he wouldn’t listen to you, but that feeling quickly dissipated as a single finger extended; glossing between the folds of your ripe womanhood. You were drenched in your own wetness – it was quite apparent – he could also smell it, knowing no matter what your current attitude that you were on the cusp of fiending for him.
You were suddenly embarrassed, though the Duros had displayed a grin. The apex of his finger trailed to the nub that was your clit. He stroked it with assertion, rubbed against it, your gasp was soft as you threshed against his touch.
“Know how te shut ye up, but Ah might wanna hear de way ye sing.” He took his hand away; you were left wanton for him, but not for long. Both long arms reached out; he coerced you, repositioned you, forced your legs to straddle him. You braced yourself against his shoulders, your breasts hovering above his head. He craned his neck and you watched in awe as his teeth delicately clipped one nipple, a trickle of blood forming, though it had hurt so good.
He drank from you, suckling hard, your nether regions soaked as he grabbed you by your hips. He didn’t ask; he forced you forward, letting go of your wounded breast to sit you flat upon his face.
His thin fingers had spread your lower lips apart, his arms on either side of your thick thighs – he had exposed you – now you were the one who was feeling vulnerable. That forked organ of his entered deep into your body’s cavity, your emptiness filled as he wormed his way as far as he could go. He sampled your nectar; delectable; as if that tongue of his were the proboscis of an insect, one of his thumbs shifting as he toyed with your clit again.
The sounds that exuded from his mouth were the guttural utterances of an animal; you could feel the rumble in his throat as it vibrated against you, though he minded the fangs for now – you squirmed, perhaps meaning to get up, not knowing how you were feeling, but his grip was taut. He forced you down, smothering himself in the velvety confines of your genitalia as if hungry for you; dining on a meal.
That one thumb kept caressing you: rough, yet gentle. His other arm snaked around your waist like a serpent meaning to constrict its prey. The sensation within was a patient writhing; forceful; like the squirming of a tentacle - he was tongue fucking you and you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.
You relented; reached for your own hair; your body stretched itself as your fingers dug into your scalp, your breasts protruding in the open air. You moaned out loud; you couldn’t help yourself. Each stroke of him inside you, outside you, caused you to release another sound.
It only encouraged him, He propped a knee up, held you there behind your arching back, his other hand now free to explore your shapely curves. He groped your breast again, the one that bled; he pinched you, it sent a lightning bolt of pain through you – but pain that was masked with pleasure.
You came hard, but he wouldn’t stop, not until he had lapped up every drop like a thirsty dog who needed water. He finished you off by biting you again, the soft flesh of your labia. You yelled out, shocked, pulled from your euphoria, though he hadn’t bit hard enough to leave a mark.
You scrambled back, your chest heaving. He grimaced, as you had almost sat along his wounded midsection. He closed one eye, grit his teeth, though he tried to push himself up to sit. He lightly raised a hand; he wiped his mouth off on the back of it before he looked you in your eyes – or at least you thought he did, as you had positioned yourself across his lower half; finding that his cock was hard beneath you; it had an express shape - he wouldn’t ask for anything, the Duros having wanted to repay you in his own way.
“Was a pretty tune. Wouldn’t mind hearin’ it again.”
You blushed, opened your mouth to speak, but you heard voices – human ones, the sounds of a tow truck that sported two forward-facing arms that could be used to encapsulate his starship. Someone called out your name, a familiar person; someone you knew back at Ferryman’s Ranch.
Cad Bane raised one half of his brows slope, confused for just a moment, and you thought to explain yourself as he had gone to move, almost too quickly, concerned about The Justifier, all his belongs, his home away from home – his source of transit, and his droid was out there somewhere. “I called for help last night – there was a storm. They are here to help.”
That same man called again, you rushed to put on your clothes. “Be right out!” you shouted, Bane left to his own devices figuratively and literally, as you suggested he do the same.
---
“Do you think perhaps we could find and reattach my leg? Where are we off to, Miss? I am sure Mister Bane wants to get going as quickly as possible – is there a technician who might be able to repair our ship? I could certainly go for a recharge – I am feeling rather drained. I only have a few hours left before-”
“Cahn’nit! Tired’a listenin’ te ye bellyache.”
The little droid was talkative as you all three were driven back into town together. Your speeder bike was coupled in the back, along with Bane’s massive ship. You sat across from him in the back of a hover car as the tow vehicle rode along behind – you were honestly surprised you hadn’t seen any ravinaks - that was until one punctured through the ice.
You had been lost in thought, your imaginings, lingering on the act Bane had committed – you studied him – his arms were crossed, his face turned away from you at an angle, revealing to you his handsome profile. His hat was tipped down low, though you could still see the glow of his deep red eyes. His lips were tight, and he held tension within himself – he was unhappy, though you felt that must have been his default mode of being.
The whole entourage jerked to a sudden stop. Cad Bane grit his teeth again, shielding his wounded personage. He was angry then, tired of hurting, tired of feeling like a sitting mynock. He stood; the thrusters on his boots fired up; he rose into the air and then dropped down - right in front of the ravenous creature who had sank its giant tusks into the bottom of the tow truck.
You watched, awestruck. He extended an implement from his forearm gauntlet – it was a lanyard of some kind, a metal microfilament; it had wound around one oversized, sharp fang. He pressed a button, held it down, cranked the power levels; set his contact stunners to full blast. He conducted a jolt of electricity so strong down the length of it that the ravinak screeched in pain; sizzled, fell back into the depths below the ice. Everything was silent – he released the line from the odd contrivance on his arm; tipped his hat at the driver; the workers who were startled; staring, before he took a moment to open the door this time, acting as if nothing happened. No one else had even had the time to withdraw their weapons or blink their eyes – he was hypnotizing.
You were turned on by the thrill of it; the way this reptilian-humanoid named Bane could command a beast without so much as a note of concern present in his sinewy, alien configuration, though he was more or less a man – he was piquing your curiosity left and right - you quietly observed him sit down to collect himself; the ravinak hadn’t even put up a decent fight.
---
“Two days tops - got a lot of repairs that need to be made. Energy accumulator is offline, the wires look like they had a bad stitch job … energizer is shot; won’t hold a proper charge. Some damage to the hull on impact; landing gear is misaligned, thrusters need recalibrating…”
“Yes, yes.. Ah get it. Fine. Don’t dally, dhen… Considerin’ yer de only tech crew on dhis dang-blamed planet. Ah’ve got’a burra fish te catch … “ He had plans for Fennec; he thought to seek his revenge when he was healed; or at least obtain an eye for an eye, interfere with her bounty this time – she owed him credits galore.
You listened, intent on helping him – you knew this man; you had a favor you could pull. You wheedled him to the side, struck a bargain; you were willing to help out – you knew your way around a workbench, and you would start with his droid’s leg, move your way up to assist in fixing his crippled ride, and in turn it would cost him half the price.
Bane withdrew a toothpick from his pants pocket, leaned back, propped his foot against the wall - this was the first time you saw him do this – you bit your lip as he placed the object between his. He gnawed on it; chewing helped him to redirect some of his agitation as he sighed; annoyed, posing a question to the both of you. “Any accomodations around dhese parts?”
“You can stay with me.” It rolled out of you without a second thought.
---
You had learned his full name by now, Todo 360’s too. Cad was atop you, two dexterous digits inside you open mouth. They toyed at the edge of your flat incisors, pressed against the tip of your wet tongue, though his forefinger and thumb held you by the chin as he steadied your servile movements, your outright moaning, as he baited you to verbalize your pleasure. “Make sure de neighbors hear, Ah like’it when ye scream fer me.”
His cock was full inside you - your jaw had dropped when you saw what he was packing, though this was the third time he had entered you, twice the night before. It was large; long like one of his distinctive fingers, made to expand by the flow of emerald blood. This particular part of him was ridged, and you were shocked because he had two of them … They were covered in spicules, though pliant; they didn’t hurt, they rubbed against your g-spot like a felicitous massage as he railed you, shaking the headboard of your simple bed.
Cad Bane was not a gentle man when it came to this. His fingers shifted, gripped the hair along your scalp – he dug in with all five as the other hand propped him upright. He ground his phallus into you until he decided he was bored of this – he made you flip around at his leisure, though giving you short notice. The slighter of his cocks was somewhat prehensile in nature; it stimulated you at the same time as the one inserted, mooring itself upside your pulsating bundle of soft nerve-endings.
You gripped your pillow with both hands, drove your teeth into the downy fabric; he pushed you against your home’s partition from the outside world; slamming his narrow hips into your backward facing haunches – it drove a whine out of you until it transformed into a moan of jubilation – it might as well have been an extra finger down below as the tip seemed to of curled itself back under you; latched on. It was practically cinched over your safeguarded area; it had attached itself – your labia having been parted by this extra shaft as you were willingly forced to endure the first; like being mounted to a wall, though that wall was Cad Bane’s hemipenis.
“Dhat’s it, take’it like de good girl ye are…” His genitalia was made for a Duros’ to match, though the feeling it filled you with was unlike any other species you had experienced. You were afraid to lose him in that moment, for him to leave tomorrow morning had made you begin to cry. He slowed his rhythm, but didn’t pause, thinking he was perhaps being much too rough, though he hadn’t given you a safe word, and you didn’t ask for one.
“Ain’t becomin’ of ye te do dhat.” He punished you by sitting up, his chest having been against your spine; his cool skin had a slight roughness to it, but Pagodon wasn’t the best place for his microscales. He tugged you backward by one arm around your waist as he sat down crossed legged upon the mattress – still bruised, still beaten - he had fucked you just the same.
You sank into his lap, his foreign cock nearly pressing against your cervix – you quickly rose just enough so as not to impale yourself. You shifted precariously onto your knees – you used the muscles of your thighs to gently ride him as he sat back and watched you dance for him, his hands groping your firm breasts from around and behind.
You wiped your tears away; Cad Bane didn’t comment on it; only added his two cents to the way you made waves along his member, that second organ still titillating you as it drove you to cum, your body’s natural secretions coating him as he drove it home. “Ah oughtta stuff ye full-up; make ye beg fer it… ”
He tried to hold it; wanted to make you cum again, but he suddenly pushed you off. You gasped as he bent you over; he released his seed along your back, your buttocks, his fangs gritted as he growled out sounds of appreciation. His own dirty talk had sent him reeling over the edge into an orgasm.
He slapped your ass afterward, dredged the abrasive undersides of his weedy digits along your skin, left a mark; a large red welt, before calling it a night.
“A trip te de refresher might do ye good,” he said.
---
Todo had been left with the lead technician while Bane had been ensconced by you; you had truly wanted to keep a watchful eye on his condition. The droid had come to alert his master the repairs were finished. The hunter had been hanging out around the Public House, as you had asked your bosses permission to have the last few days off. You left him waiting as he idly drummed his fingers along a table, seated in a darkened corner - he studied the holoprojector above the bar; the news was on, though nothing truly noteworthy.
“Sir, The Justifier is primed and ready for us to finally leave this place! What is next on our agenda?” His leg had been reattached – he was cheerful; downright happy, yet the Duros had ignored him.
Bane swirled another toothpick betwixt the opposing points of his fleshy tongue; bit down; slowly rose. You were waiting by the door, a forlorn look of sadness on your face you were trying your best to hide – his was a mask; unreadable; stoic by his very nature.
He crossed the threshold, he shivered a bit at the temperature compared to the one indoors, obviously disgusted by this place – you felt he couldn’t wait to leave. You sucked in a tiny breath, held out a small bag within your hand – it clinked, as credits were inside grazing one another. His eyes constricted at your humble gift.
“I know you spent a lot on your ship’s repairs … Here, I want you to have this.”
“Don’t want yer creditss... Ye’ve done enough.” He batted your hand away, traipsed onward to begin his walk back to this town’s one hangar - you followed him as you tried to hold back your fragile feelings. You called out to him as he meant to board.
“Wait – Bane – I ...”
He turned around, removed his toothpick, deposed of it with the flick of his lithe wrist and adjoining digits. He strode forward the three or four steps it took to meet you, your head downturned; eyes lowered.
He coaxed you up by the crook of a knotted knuckle and his thumb – he saw your eyes were watering. His face never faltered, never changed appearance. He leant in and kissed you as a way to say goodbye; a simple press of his hairline mouth to yours.
“So long, lil’ lady.” He walked away, almost dismissive, and the lead technician had come to join you. He whistled out, shook his head, giving you a dumbfounded comment; he was astounded.
“Cad Bane, huh? You sure know how to pick ‘em. That’s a story to tell your grandkids.”
You glanced to him, eyebrows furrowed - you were irritated, but also inquisitive. “What do you mean by that? You know him?”
He scoffed, almost laughed, surprised by you being so naïve. “You’re kidding, right? Cad Bane is the toughest, most infamous, quickest draw in all the karkin’ galaxy – he’s a bounty hunter. Didn’t you know that?”
Your hand moved to your mouth, you tried to hide your shock - he was gone then, and Todo too - his ship taxied to the edge of Ferryman’s Ranch, your home sweet home; your little outpost, until he took to the skies, Bane having ignited his engine’s thrusters, and in that moment you knew you would never lay your eyes on him again.
Until the powers that be give me a reason to TRULY panic...I'm headcanoning that the real reason Palpatine 2.0 came to be on Exegol was because people cared enough to either liberate any and all Clones trapped in the experiments, or just flat out took one look at the wrinkled sneering faces belonging to the Galaxy's worst enemy and decided to blow up the entire operation.
