A Whore at Dread Harbor Ch. 07

Previous Choice:

Motherly Goddess

There was only one answer he could truly give her.

"Amfrani." He whispered, running his fingers through her silken, silver hair. Corani smiled, leaning her head into his hand.

"So be it, beloved." She murmured in kind. "Let us be as Amfrani and Cairusse on the day they bonded."

Her words hearkened to an old Catian tale, one in which the trickster god snuck into the garden of Amfrani, inadvertently pilfering a place amongst her Pryde, instead of the vast riches he'd intended. It was an oft-referenced love story in Catian culture.

"Foii Shai-yon Ze sokai." Deckard whispered, quoting the old legend. Would that I could steal your heart.

Amfrani smiled, leaning in with lidded eyes to hover mere inches from his face. "Amah nah jai-doh, Cai-sii. Amah so ayai na." Love cannot be taken, silly thief. It can only ever be given.

Deckard let out a low, breathless sigh as his hand trailed across Corani's cheek. "Jia-Cai assai?"

Then, what is a thief to do?

She kissed him gently on the lips, her eyes flickering with erotic reds and pinks. "Ih fruuta-yai Oksasha so daiya." He must learn to value a thing that has no price.

Deckard laughed, feeling her soft touch as she pulled his shirt off.

"Ah, hoh taia-yaa kii." Then I will steal a kiss, instead.

Deckard pulled her down to his mouth, feeling the rough press as Amfrani's lips met his own. She moaned in his mouth, moving atop him with a hypnotic, feminine sway.

The press of her body against him was too much. Deckard reached his hands down to slide across m her curves, marveling at the wonderful, warm feeling of her. He was hard, painfully so. And Amfrani could feel it as well, her hips rocking atop him as they simulated a long, slow ride.

"Beloved..." The Goddess whispered in his ear, planting kisses on his cheek, down his neck, onto the network of scar tissue that was his bare chest.

At this she paused, her fingers trailing across the numerous faded wounds Deckard had suffered over the years. Amfrani paused, a look of concern flickering briefly across her face. It nearly broke the spell of her guise, but just as quickly she recovered.

"You have suffered so much, my love." She said, her fingers trailing across his chest. Silver hair trickled down like a spilling waterfall down her narrow shoulders. Deckard was struck by her ephemeral beauty. Amfrani shook her head, gifting him with a soft, comforting smile. "You need not suffer any longer."

She embraced him, a warm cuddle that brought a rush of unexpected emotion up in his chest.

It's just the alcohol. He assured himself over and over, even as his need overcame him and he threw his arms around the loving creature and buried his face in her shoulder. It's just the spectacle of it that's got you. Just a performance, you old fool.

Fool or not, he embraced it wholeheartedly. Amfrani stroked his head, her fingers running through the blonde scruff of his hair as she cooed in his ear.

Deckard kissed her again, fiercely this time. Their bodies entertained as the Goddess humped against him.

"Do it." She breathed, moaning when his searching fingers proved into that wet, warm spot between her legs. "I'm ready, beloved."

Deckard was ready too. She sat up off him, allowing him to pull his trousers down and expose his throbbing manhood to her. They were now both naked, alone in a way they had never been with each other.

The strangest part about it was how easy it was. They had lived through too much, seen too many sides of each other to be put off by simple nudity.

Corani-as-Amfrani took his manhood in hand, tugging at him in long, measured strokes as she balanced her sculpted form upon his lap. Her silver tail twisted and bent, exemplifying the budding excitement that their mutual experience had brought them to. Deckard's heart beat out of his chest, his body and mind fixed to the present, to this wondrous, otherworldly creature straddling atop him.

"Corani." He said, forgetting for a moment her false name.

But Corani never forgot. She smiled at him. Not her normal, awkward smile, but the sensuous smirk of a Goddess.

"Beloved." She corrected him, aligning his erect manhood to her feminine folds. Smooth as silk she sank down onto him.

And just like that, they were making love.

Amfrani rolled her hips in long, languid motions, pulling back to the brink only to drop down firmly into his lap once more. Deckard's breath stole away. He groaned at the sensation, as if a great burden had been lifted from his chest, replaced instead by a joyous pleasure radiating inwards from his extremities.

He shivered, feeling goosebumps trickle up his spine like tiny tingles of sensitivity. Her pussy was a perfect vice: enfolding him tight with a delicious grip as she bounced her bottom up and down, up and down in perfect rhythm.

He took hold of her hips, guiding her along as she rode him like a stallion. Her body was silhouetted in the warm light of her candles, the starlight from her projector flitting across her skin like little dots of cosmic divinity. It really felt like he was mating with a Goddess.

There was no word in Human or Catian tongues that could describe the wonder of their union. It was blissful, slow and sensuous. Her breath came out in short, feminine gasps that shortened still further as they went along.

Deckard grunted, staring down for a long moment at that point of contact where his cock entered and exited her pussy in short, squelching bursts. He looked up again, finding the creature's multicolored eyes flickering back at him. She planted her hands onto his shoulders, draping herself atop him as her silver hair shivered and shook.

Emotions bubbled up from some deep place in his chest. Deckard liked to think it was from the alcohol, but who could say anymore.

"Ajii-yas asno oi, little mouse?" He murmured. What am I to do with you, little mouse?

Corani let out a soft chuckle, the first hint of herself she let peek through during their long mating session.

"Jaa-ana, aspe." Quiet, old man. It was such a short glimpse, but said a thousand things to him.

Amfrani's motherly smile returned, and she redoubled her efforts, riding him hard into a gallop. Her hips moved with relentless pressure, bouncing in his lap as their bodies neared their climax. Her breath shortened, her face contorting with the expression of one unable to stand the sensations occurring to her.

Amfrani cried out, clenching around his cock with an unbearable pressure as she collapsed against him. Deckard felt the rising tide of his own orgasm come just as he erupted. His head went back, his eyes squeezing shut as he peaked, crested, then came.

It was a primeval sensation, a release of pent up frustration, loneliness and stress he hadn't even been aware of. Even as he peaked he began to laugh, caught off guard at how easy it was suddenly to breathe.

They laid like that for nearly a minute, panting and groaning in a tangled mess with one another as they both adjusted to this new dynamic they'd created together.

Amfrani stared down at him, mere inches away. She smiled, kissing him gently on the lips again as they embraced. He was still inside of her, twitching and leaking his seed. She let him, wiggling her hips back and forth to add to the delightful sin of it.

"Hmm, just what I expected." Amfrani said, trailing a finger across his cheek. "You're good at this."

"I..." Deckard began, out of breath and panting. "I live to please."

Corani chuckled, allowing her awkward smile to break past her persona. "You did that, for sure. You're a fun lay, Deckard." Her smile faded, replaced by a melancholy frown. "I just... I was hoping I'd feel something there."

Deckard felt a pit enter his gut. "You didn't...?"

Corani lightly slapped his chest, letting out a soft laugh. "Don't get me wrong, Lieutenant, that was great. You know how to make a girl feel wanted." The color in her eyes faded, and she glanced away from him. "...I don't know what I was expecting, really. The Goblins made it impossible, like I said."

Deckard's face fell. "...Corani, I-"

She turned back to him, smiling warmly as she drew soft circles in his chest with her fingers. The tip of her tail moved up to cup his cheek. "Don't get down on yourself, Deckard. If anyone could have made me feel something, it would have been you."

She kissed him again. A long, affectionate peck. When she drew back, all the melancholy was gone, hidden once more beneath her careless optimism. "Did you have fun, at least?" She asked. Deckard nodded. "Good. I'm glad I could give something good back to you."

She pulled free of him, slinking off the bed as she stretched and yawned. It was only once they had finished that Deckard saw the little details: all the inconsistencies that made her persona look false. The silver hair, the perfect figure... they weren't Corani, any more than any of the other ones were. He watched with a sad expression as he saw the metal lines up her spine shift and contort as she stretched.

"Give me a moment, will you?" She asked, moving to her closet. Deckard laid naked on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Overcome with emotion, he put his hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut.

She reentered the room clothed in her pajamas once more, all signs of her Goddess persona gone. Deckard sat up on the bed, wishing very much in that moment that he could smoke a cigarette.

"I'll take the couch tonight." He said, staring at his hands.

"Nonsense." Corani said. "You made your bed, now lie in it!" Her teasing tone did little to assuage his... was it guilt that made his chest constrict? Fear? Embarrassment? He didn't know his own feelings anymore.

Corani walked over to the bed and sat down next to him, putting her arm around his shoulder. "I'm glad we did this, Deckard. I always wondered what it'd be like."

Deckard let out a humorless chuckle. "...Disappointing?" He said.

Corani's expression softened, she rubbed his bare back with her hand, tracing the deep scar left by a Goblin chimera's claw in his right shoulder blade.

"You're too hard on yourself, Deckard. Here and everywhere else. Why would you think I'm disappointed? You were wonderful." When he refused to look at her, she turned his head to face her. Her surgically changed eyes flickered a contemplative green. "You can't expect to fix every tragedy yourself."

"I don't know what I was expecting." He said, letting out a deep sigh. "I just hoped..."

Corani smiled that awkward smile of hers. "Keep hoping, Lieutenant. Never say never. Yeh-Aji-Tah." Alone, we are prey.

Deckard stared into Corani's kind face, wishing for all the world that a soul as compassionate as hers had never needed to meet a man like him in the first place. But fate had other ideas, just as fate had thrown them together to face their mutual demons once more.

There was no one in the universe he would rather have by his side.

"Sho-Aji-Jin." He replied. Together, we are one.

Corani flashed her fangs. "You're sleeping on the bed tonight. No excuses."

She scooted onto the bed, laying out in the center of it as she tugged him over next to her. She laid on her side, planting his arm firmly around her midsection as she cuddled up against him, lying flush against his chest with her back to him. Her tail wriggled in little twists upon his chest as she settled into his body heat.

Her gentle purring lulled him to sleep, her soft form and warm body heat sending him into a deep, dreamless stupor.

It would be the last good sleep he would have for a long time.

* * *

The next morning, Deckard stood in the hangar where he parked the Deliverance, overseeing final preparations for the trip to the Dorantis system.

Corani had left him that morning to take care of the ship while she made arrangements to slip out of Dread Harbor unnoticed. When Deckard had brought up the concern that her absence might draw attention, she'd merely laughed in his face.

"Deckard," She'd said, with the kind of patronizing indulgence one would give to an uncomprehending child. "This isn't the first time I've had to take a 'leave of absence' from the station."

"How did you get away with it before?" He'd asked. She smiled at him, flashing her fangs as she threw on her ribbed blue racing jacket and adopted her queenly persona for the last time.

"The best lie is a convenient truth." She said. "My Goblin implants give me trouble from time to time, due to their imperfect transplantation. Occasionally, I catch an infection and get bedridden for a month or so to recover." She winked at him, adding in an exaggerated cough. "And wouldn't you know it: I think I feel an infection coming on."

"Where are you going then?"

"Tying up loose ends. Ensuring my affairs are in order. The Loupians need to know I'll be MIA, and I need to make sure Rez takes care of things while I'm gone." She'd kissed Deckard on the cheek as she walked out the door. "I'll meet you at the Docking Bay."

Now, pacing up and down the hangar, Deckard's mind raced with the events of the previous evening. He'd been hoping to spend the night with the Corani he knew... but instead he'd slept with Corani the whore. But Deckard - for all his skills as a soldier and lawman - wasn't equipped to deal with such trivialities of the heart. Instead he focused on prepping the Deliverance for takeoff, securing the hatches while scouring the exterior for holes or leaks.

The old girl was a resilient old clunker. She was a curvaceous Catian freighter, a twin-engined behemoth shaped in the rough approximation of an upside-down U. She was bulky and slow, but resilient, hiding plenty of weaponry under the hood.

Deckard had made few alterations to the ship itself in the decade he had owned her. In fact, aside from the extra weaponry he'd added, she was practically stock. The only addition he'd made was to cleverly hide a pair of gauss cannons in the undercarriage of the ship, beneath the left engine.

A freighter like the Deliverance, used for long-distance shipping and exploration, was never going to win a fair fight against the pirates that infested the local shipping lanes. It's only hope was surprise and resilience, and that Deckard's ship had in spades. Faded carbonization marks where autocannon shells had glanced off the ship's armor attested to the ship's experience in such matters.

Deckard had never been much of a pilot, and thus had always relied on surprise and firepower when it came to the gritty business of frontier ship-to-ship combat. It had always served him well in the past; he just had to hope it would serve him well now.

The ship was fueled up and ready to go. Corani's surreptitious shipment had arrived and been loaded into the Deliverance's cargo bay while he slept.

Deckard didn't like the thought of someone he didn't know stepping onboard his ship, and thus had triple-checked the cargo bay for possible bugs, plants or homing beacons. Paranoid, perhaps; but Deckard's paranoia had always saved him in sticky situations.

...Which was why he was ready when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching at his back. He turned slowly around to face them, keeping his right side at an angle so that they couldn't see him open his duster coat, nervous fingers hovering close to his holstered revolver.

He counted four pairs of footsteps, but when he turned to face the unexpected intruders he only saw three. That was because one of them was a tall, hulking Centaur, one of the rare Fae species living on the station. His two insect-like eye-stalks swiveled to face Deckard, regarding him with his strange, alien gaze.

The other men were clad in similar black and yellow body armor to that of the centaur, bearing a company logo Deckard did not recognize. One was a Loupian, the other a scarred human with a swarthy face and long, scraggly beard.

Bounty hunters. Had to be. Mercs didn't walk around with tasers and stun batons at their hips. But why were they here?

The human of the group approached him with a calm, friendly posture, waving to get Deckard's attention as he shot him a quizzical look.

"Ay, 'dis Docking Bay K?" He asked, looking around like a confused tourist. Deckard affected a careless posture in reply, turning back to face his ship as he pretended to look her over. He saw their warped reflection on the ship's exterior.

"Yeah." He said.

"Was just askin' cause- well, we heard a friend of ours was comin' in 'dis hangar... but that don't look like his ship."

"It's mine." Deckard said, his brow tightening. None of the bounty hunters made a move towards him.

"Ah, must 'a got it wrong then, no harm done." There was a long silence. "...Say, you look familiar friend. We met before?"

"No." Deckard said, turning around now to fully face them.

The human grinned. "You sure? You got a... memorable face."

"What is this?" Deckard said.

"What's it look like, Mistah Pryce?" The Human said. The Loupian's teeth pulled back into a snarl. "We ran yer ship's serial number. You're an expensive fella."

"Two thousand credits is expensive?" Deckard said, dropping all pretense of innocence.

The Bounty Hunter grinned. "Ten thousand, give or take a few extra digits. You got a Megacorp bounty, friend. Compound interest, added onto every day you fail to pay it off."

"And you think you can collect?" Deckard said, his voice flattening to a dead man's countenance.

The Human bounty hunter shrugged. "Maybe we never saw you, eh? Man like you, who needs a problem like this? We don't need trouble, any more'n you do."

"Then leave." Deckard said.

The elevator on the other end of the hangar opened, and Corani stepped through. She was clad in conservative black fatigues, layered in a coat of thick kevlar. She had changed her appearance as well, sporting a faded brown bob that minimized her feminine appeal.

She was keeping a low profile, looking for all the world like just another mercenary on a station full of them. Slung over her shoulder was an old MPK-5R submachine gun, a GFP-issue weapon of a kind that Assault Marines would use on boarding actions. Its sleek black metal curves had been a favorite of Deckard's during the mission to Dread Harbor.

"Can't do that, friend." The bounty hunter said in an easy tone. "Bills to pay." He hooked his thumbs into his belt and shot Deckard a cocky grin. "...So how you wanna solve this little scrub we got?"

Corani spotted the men and came up short, shooting eyes at Deckard from across the hangar before quickening her pace. This situation was about to rapidly spiral out of control.

"What do you want then?" Deckard asked.

"Cut the principle. Pay us the interest." The swarthy man replied. "Transfer eight thousand credits to our account, and we never saw you."

"What kind of promise is that?" Deckard responded. The bounty hunter shrugged.

"You're leaving now, ain't ya? Pick a direction, and don't come back to Dread Harbor. It's as simple as that."

Deckard considered his options. He worried that he'd been discovered by Ararat, but a quick assessment told him that wasn't the case. Had he been recognized, Ararat would have sent far more than this little band to ambush him.

Odds were they'd simply bribed one of docking bay operators to give them the PID of every ship that passed through, and then ran them through every Megacorp criminal database in hopes of catching an easy mark.

His first instinct was to simply pay the men. As duplicitous as they were, they couldn't possibly know about Deckard's connection to Ararat. It would be a sizeable hit to his wallet - more than half, in fact - but he could stomach it.