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Offshore Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Music recommendation: Eivor – Trollabundin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpiFmZLICgM&list=RDFTHaT36xJFU&index=26
Chapter 1.7 – Isabet & Dred get into it (Evening 26)
After dinner, Isabet found Dred in the ammunition chamber. He was seated and cleaning his disassembled long-range slug thrower meticulously, his helmet sitting on the workbench. She barely acknowledged his presence, while she rummaged around on a tool shelf by the side. He became acutely aware that he hadn’t started his down time with a shower ‘OK, not tonight then,’ he concluded and stuck to his cleaning business with small brushes and spatulas, shoving the fine sheen of ashes into a line on a sheet of flimsy.
Isabet stepped up to the free space next to him and opened the clasp of her utility belt with her left. Still resting his gauntlet comfortably on the edge of the workbench with the component in his left hand, Dred lifted his head and inhaled deeply the scent of leather mixed with her very own aroma. The long heavy belt unrolled from the chinch of her waist like a rattle snake as she bent forwards to place it above her own workspace. She was definitely up to something. When he tried to turn and get a closer view on her shapely hips adorned with a leather holster that hugged her yolk yellow thigh plate, he not only noticed that she had forgotten her heavy leather kama on the way here… but also that he couldn’t move his left arm away from the edge.
“Issy…!” He tried to tear his elbow loose with all the might of his bull’s neck, but the hydro spanner clamp she had placed over his gauntlet and the edge of the workbench held. Trying to get her back for this at once, he turned on her with his back to the workbench and tried to grab her with his free hand. She didn’t even try to get away but ducked and threw a switch on his other gauntlet as it passed by her helmet. His grappling hook shot out and twisted around a vice further down the workbench. He became acutely aware that – for now - he couldn’t bring his left hand over to unlock the end of rope that kept his right arm stretched out and tied to the vice.
She didn’t wait for him to figure a way out of this dilemma but pounced and secured his right hand gauntlet with clamps as well.
Afterwards, her gloved fingertip circled the rectangular recess of the lock. This time Dred felt it as if she had touched his bare flesh underneath. She was so close that he could feel her sidearm brush along his unarmored thigh. She took her sweet time to let the fact sink in that he was at her mercy. On the other hand, she had placed the two clamps on his gauntlet in a way that his freedom was just a button away – if she chose to.
Isabet stepped back over his seat that had taken a flight across the room. She made sure the door was locked from the inside, and then slid the helmet off to admire her work. Both of his elbows were manacled to the workbench in solid, custom-made beskar – his own! The edge of the workbench pressed into the small of his back as the tall, burly man regained his footing in this uncomfortable position, glaring at her.
She briefly considered tying his legs to some supports to avoid being kicked, but all hobbled he would be less fun.
“You are to keep your boots on the floor at all times or I’ll just leave this room unlocked once I’m done,” she established a rule instead. To wear him down some more, she righted the chair and took her sweet time to unlatch the holster with her side arm and rest it over the back of his chair together with her codpiece. Certain activities could rub off on the paint job.
‘Whoa.’ Dred watched her approach. A shiver ran down his spine and his mouth went dry. Isabet was at her most beautiful and dominating, her dark brown hair firmly tied back in a ponytail, her remarkably unlined face still flushed from putting restrains on him. Her grey eyes seemed to swallow him whole as she straddled his thighs and stood over him with her legs apart, her groin barely touching the edge of his codpiece.
She pulled her gloves tight. Expecting her next move, he clenched his teeth for once instead of talking dirty.
“This is from Fett…” Isabet smacked the lopsided grin off his face deftly. She felt him flinch between her thighs and damn, she could rough him up like this all day and enjoy it, “…and this is from Rav.” her backhand cracked over his cheek. She stopped and leaned back to make a point.
Dred righted his jaw after the two mighty blows.
“The rest is for me,” she added and her voice assumed a velvety quality. Unable to rub the sting away Dred sucked the inside of his cheek, “…to teach you not to look another way.” Isabet unlatched his shoulder ammo belt and undid his utility belt. Stuck between his back and the edge of the workbench, the webbing couldn’t drop to the floor. She halted it for just a moment to slip his tactical knife from its sheath. ‘Uh oh,’ he thought
She placed the knife on the flimsy with a content smile. Yes, he kept his equipment clean and well honed. She hadn’t expected anything less.
Isabet felt him flinch and smiled inwardly as she tore the flak vest open at the side and his left shoulder with two daft pulls. She slid the ring of bantha leather out over his thick biceps and flipped the front that carried the chest and belly plates over his arm, securing him further.
Once she had worked through his rough outer shell, she undid her gloves as well, placing them on the edge of the workbench. Her nimble fingers worked the zipper through the environmental seal around his bull’s neck. He felt his temperature rise as she pulled the zipper down. She leaned back and inhaled the male musk that was coming from him in waves. Further down she went, revealing well padded six pack abs, then the zipper caught at the upper edge of his cod piece.
‘Wouldn’t she go any further?’ He wondered briefly. Her bare hands felt warm and dry on his skin as she smoothed his flight suit aside. Her palm still stung from the blow. He strained against the manacles as she leaned in, trying to reach her face or at least her neck to inhale, taste, and maybe even bite if she would let him. Supporting her weight with his groin most of the time, he had certainly worked up an appetite. It was becoming a tight fit with his codpiece.
She didn’t let his mouth touch her, but had to admit that his shoulder blades pushed together made his pectorals stand out beautifully over the wide edge of his ribcage. She had subdued a bull of a man. Dred was a good soldier who pulled his weight, at the same time, he knew how to indulge. She could respect that attitude. But right now, it was up to her to enjoy her spoils in their private little war.
Her short, well manicured nails retraced the path her palms had sketched over his chest. He was fully aware that she liked what she saw and pushed out against her some more, rocking her on his lap. Oh yes, she could scratch his itches any time with those nails. She paused briefly to circle his nipples, then her spread fingers wandered back upwards until they racked over the embossment she had left on him last time, for him to wear under his left chest plate, right underneath the armor tally.
She folded the flight suit’s overlap aside neatly to admire her handiwork. “You heal nicely,” Isabet commented and traced the blackened scars like a calligrapher, examining her workspace. He had not used bacta to reduce the effect. She would interpret that as consent. One by one, the lines would blend into a hawk, not the plump outline Vizsla’s Death Watch had been using, but her own elegant interpretation. “Today we’ll do some more, which will make it easier to recognize,” she informed him of her personal agenda.
Her gaze slid over the workbench as she made sure she had everything at hand, coming to rest briefly on a red smear in the crevice of his visor and a black paint streak on his gauntlet. An instant later her gaze clashed with his again.
He had been a bad boy and she knew it.
Never missing a beat, she raked her nails back to his nipples to pinch them wickedly before she continued further down over his abdomen with increasing pressure. “You are a loaded gun. I’ll take care of that as well.”
Dred sucked in his gut. A moment ago, he had almost been ready to beg her to go down on him, but now the commanding gaze from her grey eyes had taken on an unsettling, jealous quality. Who knew what she would do with his combat knife if she felt sufficiently provoked? There was nothing he could do about it; she unlatched his cod piece anyway.
Now he felt naked!
His erection sprang forwards underneath his underwear and flight suit happily. The codpiece that had restrained it too tightly hit the floor. She straddled him again. Aware that she was just playing with him, he purred low. She smiled at him smugly.
Returning her attention back towards Dred’s workbench, she dribbled weapon lubricant over the ashes he had cleaned out of his slug thrower. The tip of his tactical knife moved the pile to and fro on the flimsy until it formed a black paste.
By now, Dred was sweating profoundly. It was one thing to be hurt in battle, but another thing to know exactly what was coming. He knew Isabet’s sigil by heart and she had found a way to make it known to him -and any other woman he could possibly bed- even more intimately, carving it into him one line at a time. She was the artist and he was reduced to canvas underneath her hands. But he knew that the day she finished marking him, she would be his as well.
He would not falter.
Isabet could feel his rock hard resolve underneath. It made her desire burn brighter, but her own release would have to wait. She swiped his chest with a clean wipe and tilted her head, conjuring the line she would draw next. Her breath felt cool on his skin, soothing. He froze his gentle rocking against her groin as she took his own knife to his chest and did as she pleased… and damn it was a long line with three curves that defined a whole wing with one fluent cut.
Pleased with herself, Isabet smacked the blade into the workbench and grabbed a paint filled wad to dab the upwelling blood from the superficial cut swiftly.
While his razor sharp blade’s sting had been somewhat discrete, now that burned like hell! Dred screamed and strained against the manacles violently. “K'atini!” Isabet chuckled and rode out the waves as his large frame convulsed with pain. Her act of mercy consisted of attacking his nipple on the other side of his chest with her teeth, giving him more pain as a counter measure. Once he regained his footing, her hands made short process opening up his flight suit further and freeing his manhood from his underwear. He pushed into her tight grasp and against her stroking palm eagerly, his release was only a few trusts away.
She wiped his member and her hands clean and put him back into his pants. She then dismounted and unlocked his right hand gauntlet, allowing his tortured arm to slip from its confinement. He slumped, his chin sinking on his chest. Thin tendrils of fresh blood were running down his pectoral from the darkened line she had carved.
“I’ll get you back for this.” His husky voice made a treat as well as a promise.
“I certainly hope so.” Isabet walked out into the corridor whistling a happy tune, her belts slung across her shoulder.
Freeing his other hand and rolling his shoulders, Dred thought what a bold move it had been on her part to make a go at him unarmed. If he had just managed to get a single hand free, he would have grabbed that tight pony tail by the base of her neck and turned tables on her right here and then. But thanks to her proper planning and nimble fingers that would stay a mere fantasy.
Damn, she was good. A worthy opponent and mate.
He certainly had the muscle to flatten her smaller frame, but he didn’t want to be her poor second when it came to refinement in this game. She would shove her blaster into his face anyway each time he tried to have a grappling match with her. He memorized how she had wound him up nicely and granted him the release he dearly needed. Some of the pain had been excruciating, but as he overcame, it just made him feel more able. Yes, he would get her back for that as well.
Dred zipped his flight suit close and donned his armor, then reassembled his slug thrower and put away the tools they had used. He would think something up.
…And with that, Fett had been successful keeping him out of other mischief.
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Offshore Job

Chapter 1.7 – Isabet & Dred get into it (Evening 26)