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sinisterexaggerator · 3 months ago

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Do Not Disturb

Cad Bane x Hondo Ohnaka (Banaka)

It was a rule: don’t bother him while he’s out on a job. Hondo seemed to think the rules didn’t apply to him, often breaking them without hesitation. It was his own fault for lettin’ him get away with it—but not this time. This time, Bane had deactivated his public channel, and it was only public if you knew his frequency. He had others, ones he kept to himself for the shadiest of deals—everybody had a secret or two they guarded against loved ones, didn’t they?

Notes/Warnings: This is a fic based on an already established relationship! This is SMUT. It is also CRACK and meant to be funny! Expect roughhousing, kissing, penetration, innuendos, dirty humor, and GAY OLD MAN SEX. I am using the Justifier, and Hondo is still on Florrum, so let's pretend this would happen around season 5 or 6 of the Clone Wars, hmm?

Special thanks to @allsystemsblue for helping me figure out Sriluurian curse words, for her thoughts about Hondo in general, and for being my cheerleader!

Word count: 7.2k

Ao3

PART TWO.

In his line of work, nappin’ was a luxury. Between scores, the droid manned the ship, or the ship manned itself, set to autopilot, directed by coords Bane had personally calculated.

The mind of a Duros was built for, among other things, astrogation and mathematical computation, but at the expense of a few hours’ sleep before it could be deemed possible. Equations just didn’t solve themselves. Hell, the computer could do it for him, but Bane was a stickler for checking things twice—it was how he'd stayed alive so long, and he couldn’t afford to quit now.

Minus the loose ends that needed tidying, the Duros was comin’ down off his last hunt like a drug addict off an incredible high, his pockets lined with creds and a satisfied smile daring to linger, the man finding himself to be as smug as a rich kid on Life Day.

Sometimes, things went so well it was suspicious, though he decided to let that funny feelin’ slide, oblivious to the misfortune that was about to befall him like some dunderheaded bantha-brain, failing to reactivate his comms in a manner that was timely.

It was just as well, hyperwaves were both hard to receive and transmit in the bowels of deep space, though Bane had all but forgotten his promise in the paroxysm of his exhaustion. How many rotations had it been? How many weeks had passed since he had last spoken to the pirate? He hadn’t kept count, not while he was in hot pursuit of a bounty with a hefty price on their head, one that was as wily as they were agile, sending Bane on a wild-goose chase from one end of Giju to the other.

And Bane was a private man. Nothing had changed, even if Hondo had wished it to. Bane wasn’t necessarily an old dog, but to retrain him was nigh impossible—the Quay would tell you that himself, tell anyone who would listen, frills bristlin’ every time his lover was unreachable.

The here and now was no different in the scheme of things, the only variable being the fluctuations of a certain scoundrel’s mood. The hunter had poured himself a measure from his personal stash, taken off his duster, and demanded his droid piss off as he kicked his feet up, soon finding himself dozing at the helm of his ship.

And Todo had warned him; had told him he had messages queued, waiting; seemed adamant about their importance, but Bane was in no rush, marching to the beat of a different drum, one that was stubborn and unyielding.

It was some hours later, his hat tipped low over his eyes, shielding him from the backdrop of realspace and those damn floodlights that shone ever so brightly, when he finally yawned. Ohnaka would’ve said he looked like a took’—teeth and all—as his arms stretched wide toward the hull before drifting back down.

Blue fingers itched the Nashtah-hide at his belly, though it was pointless. Nothin’ could get through there. Bane sat in silence, reacclimating to his surroundings, finally able to recall the first of ten equations that would carry him the ninety-six standard hours toward Florrum from his place in the Colonies, having parked himself temporarily at an orbiting waystation somewhere off the Rimma Trade Route.

It was only then he figured he’d loop him in on his whereabouts—no use mentioning it before now, knowing the pirate would make a fuss about the length of his trip, askin’ questions like “when are you coming home, my darling?” or makin’ him feel guilty by stating how much he had missed him.

It wasn’t that Bane didn’t miss him; Hondo was a distraction. It was hard to keep one’s mind clear, focused and alert when it mattered most if he didn’t cut him off. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d sent him naked holos when he least expected it, thinking he might save some of them as blackmail for if the pirate ever double-crossed him.

That wasn’t even the worst of it, it was the vids, the clips of Ohnaka in his office, spread-eagle while jerkin it, whispering obscenities, thinking Bane might enjoy his crude display. They’d argued over it once or twice. Hondo felt he was doing him a service for if he felt alone, perhaps thinkin’ he might one day receive something in return.

It was only when one such holo came through durin’ a meeting with none other than that gasbag Dooku that he’d nearly given up his ghost, not wantin’ to be seen in anything other than a professional light. Not to mention, Bane knew he had a bone to pick with the pirate; it was something he refused to talk about, but he hadn’t spoken to the Quay for weeks, and his poutin’ had been plain awful. He almost rather endure a conversation with Kenobi than to go through that again.

Still, he ought to check in, not allowing for his personal life to interfere with business. Leaning forward toward his comm display, the Duros would witness a series of blinking lights, red like that of his eyes, screaming silently for him to pay attention. He had a bad feelin’ about it, and he was usually right when something didn’t sit well in his gut, staring at the rapidly flashing bulb as it winked at him; taunted him; urged him to press the button just beneath it—the one that would play back all his pending messages.

“Greetings, my friend! I have been trying tu reach you about your speeder’s extended warranty, please return my comm as soon as you are able,” the first message began, Bane rolling his eyes at the pirate’s cheap joke, though he had to admit it was a tad amusing.

The next one wasn’t much better.

“Knock, knock. Who es dere, you may ask? Why, not Bane, of course, for he has refused tu return my call! Soon, ah, my love? I impatiently await tu hear your voice once more.”

The hunter sighed, wondering just how many of these he was going to have to subject himself to, though he dare not skip through them, or it might lead to him potentially losing out on a job. Maybe someone other than Hondo had commed him, though he had his doubts, shaking his head as he took note of the Weequay’s tone. It was progressively sounding more and more bitter, as if that would make Bane want to call him back.

“Bold of you tu continue tu ignore me when so many desperately wish tu seek an audience with me. Dey cannot be blamed, nu? Yet et feels like eons since we have spoken. I am not happy, Bane, but I will excuse dis your slight. Consider yourself lucky I bother tu try—and I du know someting of luck, ah?”

Bane would have almost felt guilty had the scoundrel’s words not come out as more of a warning than a petition for his consideration. And perhaps he was lucky. Not many dared to keep his company, nor put up with his special brand of bullshit, Ohnaka being one of the few to share his table, and his bed with the Duros, Cad having found himself all too comfortable, so comfortable, he wondered if he had begun to take him for granted. There were worse things, he supposed.

“Yetsut (Prick)! Embibatum (Deserter)! So wicked you are, savage! A terrible boy. I should want tu have nothing tu do with you! And yet… I find myself aching en ways endescribable, both en my heart and en my loins … Hurry back, Bane, lest you find I nu longer wish tu receive you upon your return.”

Bane’s brow ridge furrowed. Of all the fibs, that one outshined all of ‘em. He wasn’t sure what he had said, only picking up on a few Sriluurian words here and there in their time together, but he thought it must equate to asshole, the Duros snorting at how ridiculous he sounded when he got all riled up over nothin’.

But maybe it wasn’t for nothin’. It was clear as day that the Quay rather lose a limb than be apart from him, so the next message that came through was really no surprise at all, except for its delivery.

“WHY DU YOU HATE ME?!”

Bane jumped back, so loud was his query that he nearly lost his hat. This time, Hondo had recorded himself, the pirate’s face so close to the emitter Bane thought he could see the whites of his eyes.

“Why du you forsake me, de man who loves you? Should I return tu Aurra?” the holo whined. Bane blinked, then squinted at the tiny blue outline; he wouldn’t dare.

The man was crying, his sniveling and the sound of him blowing his nose dominating the one-sided conversation. Hondo waved a handkerchief for what Bane assumed was dramatic effect, the Duros folding his arms, refusing to buy into his charade.

“After everyting I have done for you, you cannot simply allow me your face tu be seen, tu hear your voice, or tu witness you touching yourself tu de thought of me—et es not right!”

Bane was tempted to fast-forward, realizing that Hondo’s diatribe was likely to go on for several minutes. Listening to his pleading at twice the normal speed, while watching the erratic hand gestures that accompanied his speech, only made it all the more humorous.

“Etesclearyoudunotcareformeonebit, disinowknowwithoutashadowofadoubt, butperhapsmyprickcanconvinceyouwhennothingelsewill,ah?”

Bane almost fell out of his chair when a shot of the pirate’s cock dominated his view, catching himself just in time before he teetered backward. “Fer kark’s sake!”

Letting the holo continue to play back, Bane witnessed all manner of things, things he wouldn’t repeat outside this room, slowing the recording back down when he felt he was nearing its end.

“… I am divorcing you! And du not bother tu come back!”

Bane snorted; they weren’t even married, for cryin’ out loud! Somehow, he had expected more, for the Weequay to have changed his mind. The timestamp read this last comm was transmitted more than four days ago, and Hondo hadn’t bothered to send anything else since.

The Duros’ mouth twitched. He sat there, the gears of his mind turnin’, having dealt with Ohnaka’s mood swings on more than one occasion, they nearly trumped his own.

Had he eaten that day? Was he tendin’ to himself in his absence? Had he run out of his favorite smokes, the ones that made him feel good? Was he experiencing an especially low, low? Had he talked to his mother?

Bane sighed again, this one to excess, his lungs expanding and contracting to their full extent. He rubbed the entirety of his face in the palm of his hand, reaching for the bottle he had left out earlier.

“Better get dhis over wid,” he thought, steeling himself. After downing another two fingerfuls of whiskey, he dialed Hondo’s frequency back on Florrum.

It rang and rang, Bane growing more sour by the second. Just what kind of game was he playin’? He nearly disconnected when the pirate finally picked up, or someone did, a pair of youthful, feminine legs filling the frame before they shrank back with a giggle, disappearing somewhere offscreen.

Bane felt his temper rising, steam threatening to shoot out of his ear cavities, the Duros baring his fangs at the image of Hondo who sat like royalty, his hair loose, full, and streaming down his back as he held what looked like a small mirror within his hand.

“Oh, et es you,” he said in a bored, bland tone. His helmet was off, his goggles were gone, and his coat was nowhere to be found.

“Who de hell was dhat?!” Bane growled, pitching forward in his seat.

“Heh, et es nooo concern of yours. We both know you don’t really care,” Hondo claimed dismissively, wafting a hand.

“Ah’s werkin’, ye cheatin’ piece a shit!”

The Weequay smiled a terrible smile, his cheeky grin spreading from one ear to the other. “Come, now. You could not spare a moment of time for me? I du not see why you are so upset. Dis es what you wanted, ah? For me tu move on with my life?”

“Yer dead te me, and whoever dhat bitch is, she’s gonna be next!”

Bane heard the woman gasp. Hondo’s mood changed yet again, in real-time. It was evident he now felt he should pacify the Duros; Bane always made good on his threats.

“My heart, wait, I—”

“—No, ye wait! Fer me te get dhere! Yer gonna see just how much it’s gonna cost ye—fer when ye decide te mess wid me!”

“But Bane, I was only kidding! She es my—"

The Duros cut the comm. “—hairdress … er. Ah. Hm.”

Hondo turned his head once the holoprojector went dark on Bane’s end, looking up at the terrified woman. “Iiiii suppose et es time tu put you en hiding until dis all blows over, my dear. But.” The Weequay fluffed out his mane of hair, letting it rest against his back and shoulders. “First you oil and reset my braids, yes?”

---

The hyperdrive of the Justifier worked overtime, the assault transport having enough fuel to get Bane to Florrum without needing to stop to fill up. Todo had done all he could to quell Bane’s anger, but he didn’t want it to be quelled, he wanted to stay furious, indignant at the Quay’s behavior, but worst of all, his perceived betrayal.

And it wasn’t just that he was angry. Bane had other feelings over it, complicated ones, ones he rather not share with anyone, but that were obvious should you know him well enough—and Hondo did—jealousy being at the top of the list.

Ohnaka’s men wanted nothing to do with Bane as he landed before the entrance to their fortress home, Weequay scattering like sandflies to all four corners, though keeping a wary eye on him. Some might say their species lacked intelligence; Bane would argue against that point at the end of his blaster, but no matter what the case, they knew well enough to stay out of his way.

Fury marked his features, the bounty hunter’s duster fluttering behind him as he stormed the pirate’s den, ignoring any dirty looks; any raised weapons; any whispers that accompanied his forward stride. He had barely ventured beyond the entrance to the grand hall when he saw Ohnaka seated upon his dais, though he did not look happy, ring-bedecked fingers drumming along the surface of a table. He perked up immediately upon seeing the Duros, barring his current disposition. No doubt he thought he would be able to subjugate his sullen mood.

“Finally, you have arrived!” Hondo began, standing to sweep around the table’s edge, his arms open and hands spread as if in greeting, though Bane had made it clear as to what he should expect.

“I was beginning tu wonder if you were indeed com—”

A hand cut off the king of pirate’s oxygen supply, Bane’s lengthy fingers curling themselves around Hondo’s throat. He did not so much as acknowledge the barrels of blasters that rose to meet him, the drawing of swords, or even the aim of a slingshot, knowing none of their ilk would be any match for him.

Even so, Hondo bade them to lower their weapons with a single wave of his hand. All complied, whether they wanted to or not, the pirate forcing a smile as he was pushed back against the banquet table resting just behind him.

“Darling, I du not mind dis, but ef I may so say, your grip es a little tight according tu my preference.”

“Where is she?” Bane hissed, the fine points of his teeth millimeters from Hondo’s face.

“Who, my love? My hairdresser?”

Bane shoved Ohnaka back with only a fraction of his might, though capable of truly harming him should he decide to do so. “De karkin’ girl who’s gigglin’ on dhat holocall,” he growled, “de one wid de long legs!”

“Yes, dat would be—well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you. She does a good job, does she not?” Hondo flipped one freshly oiled and set braid across his shoulder, running his fingers along the length of its many plaits. “We all know what happens when someone displeases you.”

“She ain’t de only one Ah’m displeased wid!” the Duros sneered, grasping Hondo by his chin. Bane’s fingers locked tightly around his jaw, slipping between the scoundrel’s frills. Then, he hovered close, his fiery eyes nearly boring through the pirate’s goggles. His olfactory organs sensed the perfumes, the oils, and something else—another Weequay—a female.

“Lettin’ her put her hands all over ye,” the hunter snapped, glaring as much as he was frowning. It took all of Ohnaka’s self-control not to smile again, knowing that Bane wasn’t actually angry, he was simply feeling territorial, and he thought he might be able to use it to his advantage, not to mention it was a bit of a stroke to his ego to top it off.

“Not all over, just my head, my neck … my shoulders, perhaps. Ears.”

Bane glared harder, his eyes forming slits. Hondo felt a tremor run down his spine, knowing full well that Bane favored his ear’s tapered tips and loved to fondle them from time to time.

“Ye done wid me? Ye fool enough te try an’ dump me ova de comm? Knowin’ Ah’s werkin? Knowin’ Ah told ye te be patient? Dhen ye go and get a girl te touch what’s mine?”

The pirate sulked, knowing the gunslinger could hardly stand his pouting, yet he felt his sadness returning, having only said those things out of desperation to see him, to hear his voice … which he was able to do so now, but not in the capacity he wished. Of course, it was truly flattering to be told he belonged to Bane, yet his pouting continued, nonetheless.

“I dedn’t really mean dose tings …”

Bane bristled, holding onto his anger despite his confession.

“I missed you, my love. I was hurt when you ded not comm me back.”

This seemed to have the opposite effect than the one he intended, Bane dragging him up to nearer his height by the edge of his ornate collar. Hondo’s feet nearly left the floor as he dangled there, at the mercy of his grasp.

“Ye play too god damn much!”

“Everyone …” Hondo said gravely, his tone turning dark, his voice somber, “out.”

Both men waited for the room to clear, some of the pirates lingering longer than others, giving fretful glances between one another, or elbowing each other as they snickered and leered.

“Ya know they’s gonna fuck!” one Quay shouted, though neither Bane nor Hondo budged, refusing to deny or refute his claim, or to agree.

Once his grand hall was empty, Hondo placed a hand softly against Bane’s belly. It was something that normally calmed him down, the simple gesture doing him wonders in that it released a high level of Oxytocin into his system, promoting feelings of calm and relaxation.

“Forgive me,” he begged.

This time, his tactic did not work.

Hondo gasped, Bane becoming nothing more than a flurry of tongue and teeth, smacking his helmet with the wide brim of his hat. He felt the Duros’ cuspids dig into the flesh of his neck, piercing his scales, Cad latching on as if to feed.

The Weequay whimpered before his whining turned into a lecherous moan, knowing that Bane had broken skin but caring nothing of it, as it wasn’t the first time—he had many scars and marks leftover from his lover, what was one more?

“Bane…” the pirate groaned, his instincts instructing him to rest one hand on the back of his head, his black skullcap. Truth be told, Ohnaka hated the hunter’s form of dress—it was so constricting, always in his way when he desired to touch him most. He felt his toes curling in his boots, Cad’s bite one to be relished, savored, something so pleasurable nothing else compared.

His prick throbbed; he felt Bane pull harder, the Duros’ slim fingers wandering down below his belt to caress Hondo’s swollen cock through his pants. He was already leaking, his tip wet as he thought he might blow any second, but no, he would not allow that to happen. There was too much at stake—him being properly laid.

Just when Ohnaka thought he could take no more, Cad pulled away, his elongated eyeteeth coated in black, the color of the Weequay’s blood.

He forced Hondo to kiss him, pink and onyx coiling together in a provocative dance. Having marked him, Bane sought to assert his dominance even further, pressing the pirate’s back into the table once more.

“Tell me yer a liar,” Bane rasped, pushing the edge of his thumb into the Weequay’s mouth. The slut in him began to suck, twirling his tongue over blue flesh, trailing up once he reached the top of his cutoff glove.

“For you, I will be anyting, darling.” Hondo took the time to lift his goggles, placing them higher up on his head, just below the edge of his helmet. His eyes were sparkling, like radiant crystals. Bane seemed enthralled, but for a moment; he would not allow himself to be taken in by his charm, his spell.

And the Duros did not approve his answer, that much was apparent from the way he continued to bare his fangs like some wild animal. Hondo sometimes thought it difficult to know what to say or when to say it, the hunter being as volatile as he was dangerous, not to mention sexy.

Secretly, he loved to make Bane angry, at least to the point he did not fear for his life, though he doubted his love would actually harm him, but one could never be too sure. There was something about it—the unchecked fury, the rise in his temper, the deeply resonate growl of his voice—that made Hondo so inexplicably aroused. He had always been a fan of high-risk men, and women, or for risk in general—it had a bigger payout, for one, and to love someone like this Duros was at his own peril, a risk he was more than willing to take.

“Whore,” Bane sneered, manipulating Hondo’s limbs without his say-so, twirling him about-face to wrench off his coat. The pirate gave a little yelp of excitement. He wasn’t sure if he was engaging in dirty talk or actually accusing him of cheating. Whatever the case, the Weequay smiled, even as Bane bent him over, beginning to unbuckle his pants from behind.

“No one’s te touch ye, naht even yer hair. Ah’ll do yer braids from now on, ye hear me?”

Had he seen the pirate’s expression, Bane may have laughed in that adorable, honking way of his, Hondo’s mouth having formed a nearly perfect “o” before it stretched wide, curling up at the corners. His eyes joined in, almost smiling in their own right, angled slits narrowing mischievously as the reality of what Bane had just said sunk in.

What he needed now was to protest, albeit lamely. To give just enough backtalk that Bane would have his way with him, not that he wasn’t already.

“But Bane, du you even know how tu braid? Sah—” He paused, almost giving the girl’s identity away. It was too soon for that, though he supposed he might be forced to tell eventually that it was Sahmet. Hondo mostly kept her around to mix him drinks. He quickly turned the first three letters of her forename into another word, one that would make sense. “Sah … ome. Some find et … difficult. And you du not even have hair on which tu prac—”

“—said Ah’ll do it!” Bane snapped viciously, whisking Hondo’s pants down to his ankles in one fell swoop. He was rather quickly assaulted by a breeze, having gone commando this fine evening. Most evenings. He hated wearing undergarments unless absolutely necessary.

Bane knew this, his frigid hand coming up and beneath Hondo’s undercarriage to cup his balls in its broad palm. The contrast in temperature was so sudden, Hondo involuntarily shuddered at the same time he moaned lasciviously, unable to control his reaction for how good it felt, no matter if Bane could crush his fragile testes like a pair of nuna eggs should he desire to do so.

The Quay gave a wry chuckle. “Careful, love! Du not ah … damage de Ohnaka family jewels, ah?”

While Duros’ sex organs resided inside themselves, Weequay’s did not. It was no wonder Cad could wear trousers that were so tight, the hunter practically poured into them, not that he was complaining about the view.

“Gonna damage somethin’,” Bane spoke low, Hondo’s breath hitching as he felt the Duros’ skinny hips press firmly against his backside.

“Hopefully… someting dat es easily repaired.”

“Ye never learned how te keep dhat mouth shut.” Hondo heard a clink, a soft grinding of metal, the rustling of fabric—and finally, the telltale sound of a thermosuit being rearranged, pried apart, reminiscent of wet rubber. He knew what would happen next, his scales teeming in anticipation.

“Dere es one way tu keep me quiet,” the pirate dared, his sexual innuendo not lost on Bane. Then, Hondo hissed through his teeth, something soft and cold fondling his ball sac, something that was saturated in a gooey, sticky substance that also doubled as wonderful lube.

“Please, darling, be gentle wit me …” The pirate wanted his back blown out.

“Ye know de werd.”

Hondo felt another something tickling his hole; the Duros had two pricks. He wondered if that had something to do with his piss poor attitude, too much testosterone, perhaps, though even so—Hondo was thankful every day.

Bane was … fun to fuck. There was no other way to describe his feelings, the Duros being a rarity among his kind for more than one reason, the ways in which they made love seeming to be endless, and never boring.

Jarring him from his thoughts, Hondo felt his neck being pressed upon as if by a weight, the Duros’ fingers lodged tightly around the pirate’s nape. He felt his face meet with solid wood, the breadth of Bane’s palm smooshed against flesh and frill to the point Hondo thought he could well be in a vise.

Then, the sound of leather, Hondo freed temporarily as the hunter’s gloves came off, Bane tossing them onto the table next to his head. Hondo’s excitement was hardly containable, a hard slap given to the fat of his rump. The pirate grunted before a sigh of longing overtook him—he ached for him—warranted by the swirling of his index finger, Cad circling Ohnaka’s rim with its padded tip.

“Du not tease, my love,” the eager Weequay scolded. Bane snickered, collecting a small quantity of his own cocks’ slick, wetting his hand.

“Do what Ah want,” he shot back, though he would not make him wait much longer, Bane’s long, lithe, lank forefinger broaching his entrance to its first of three knuckles; Duros had an extra phalanx that made this kind of thing all the more enjoyable.

An intake of breath. Hondo batted his lids before they gently closed. “Of course, how silly of m—”

Bane slid further inside before slipping back out, back and forth, the pirate left unable to speak—for once—as Bane prepped him for admittance.

Hondo felt him push lightly against his prostate. “Exquisite,” he thought.

He did not have time to think much else, Bane retracting his knobbed digit for one of his tentacular cocks to slowly begin to penetrate his ass. It slithered its way up inside him in increments, like a snake searching for something—prey—filling his rectum with an indefinable, uncharacterizable pressure a little bit at a time—a kind of pressure that he never ceased to get tired of.

Hondo dug his nails into the table’s surface, finding himself lifting his bottom as high as it would go at this vantage, even putting his back into it, wanting to wholly expose himself. Cad fit him like a glove, his body’s self-lubrication more than enough to usher him in—like an old friend he had long since missed.

“Bane.” He whispered his name this time, like a prayer, arching his lumbar region as he spread his legs wider.

“Predictable,” the Duros jeered, his sweet-smelling breath—laced with Ambrian cheroot; cloves—titillating the pirate’s ear as much as his deeply sonorous, rasping voice, “always wantin’ te get fucked.”

The Duros’ slender hips drove him forward, Bane’s malleable dick fully engorged with green blood and stretching Hondo wide, entombing itself to its base. He was admittedly careful—at least in the beginning—Hondo was thankful for that too, able to take his entire girth alongside rapid pants and salacious moans, each rib and crest of his comely cock sending a bolt of pleasure straight down through his belly toward his groin.

“Es dat what you call dis?” the bastard teased, aware of just what an insult like that might do. He was prepared to receive the consequences and then some, knowing the “and then some” might equate to double trouble—Ohnaka’s little pet name for Cad’s genitals when he was feeling in a funny mood.

The Duros sizzed menacingly in his ear, ramming his sinewy frame against Hondo’s that was more robust. Still, Bane’s legs were strong from all those acrobatics, all that training—it was nothing to shake a laser sword at, the bounty hunter having powerful muscles enough to force another lust-filled moan to spill from Hondo’s lips without much effort.

Bane thought he ought to be embarrassed.

Then, something that felt nearly like a tongue licked at Ohnaka’s taint, causing the pirate’s very bones to shiver down to their marrows, his own prick bouncing in time with every one of Bane’s violent thrusts.

It was pain and pleasure, followed by more pain as Cad sunk his fangs once again into Hondo’s throat—this time from behind. At the same time, his second cock slipped upward, just a little higher, lapping at his balls, leaving a cool, slimy trail in its wake.

“Beg yer pardon?” Bane seethed, his displeasure ostensible, the Duros’ sharp teeth raking across his earlobe next, threatening to bite there, too. Hondo was doing everything in his power not to blow his load too soon, lest he regret it forever and a day.

“I ded not realize you had already entered me, Bane,” came his snide reply, followed by a brief interlude of chuckling. “Es dat all you have got, ah?”

The pirate was playing with fire, though he wished to be burned oh-so badly.

A snarl—Hondo felt the Duros withdraw—had he gone too far? Would Bane leave him like so many times before, throwing what Hondo considered to be a tantrum? Preferable to death, of course, though Bane did not retreat, only from his innards, Cad spinning him back around so that they were face to face, and what a face it was.

Hondo grinned sadistically like the devil he was, yet he reveled in studying his love’s weathered and worn scales; his many scars; the beautiful way his eyes glinted though full of animosity; the points of his fangs. “Ded I touch a nerve?” he dare ask.

Bane threw him backward, shoving him flat onto the table by his throat. Hondo barely had time to gasp before Bane was dragging him back by the ankles, pulling his ass all the forward so that it hung off the edge.

“Oh, ho!” the pirate interjected, his smile growing wider. Bane was aware this type of thing gave the scoundrel a thrill, whether he meant to indulge him or not. And he was so much scarier than Aurra, though Bane had honor. Still, he knew even the Duros had his limits, that there were only so many buttons he could push.

“I like where dis es going!” Ohnaka teased, pulling an irritated growl from the gunslinger amid him lifting both the Weequay’s legs. He had gathered them together at the shins in one ginormous hand, pushing them back and over Hondo’s helmeted head, locked tight together. Hondo had an unobstructed view of Bane’s stacked cocks should he peer around his own thighs, the one residing on bottom seeming to take up a life of its own.

“Dhat right?” the Duros asked with a questioning lilt, though it wasn’t meant for him to answer. Bane’s tone was beyond aggressive—livid—a sinuous appendage finding its way back into the warm depths of Ohnaka’s rectum, only this time he did not bother to graciously take his time.

Hondo felt his prick couldn’t be any more erect, almost painfully so, its head taut and shimmering, beads of precum seeping from out his slit. Bane dropped the pirate’s legs atop his shoulders, and Hondo scrambled to wind them tight, pulling him toward him as much as he was holding Bane hostage deep inside him. The Duros’ cock snaked up, up, then prodded at that small, sensitive gland just below his bladder. The feeling was almost too much for the Quay to bear.

Hondo’s eyes began to roll; Bane gave a short, obnoxious little laugh of derision, then retained his focus, his expression hardening as did the thick phallus that was interred within Ohnaka’s bowels, inch by glorious inch. Had the pirate thought he was already stretched, he groaned in ecstasy as Bane pushed him to the brink, the other half of his hemipenis staying limp; pliant, though deciding to curl itself around the base of the Weequay’s girth.

“So, did ye fuck her?” Bane asked out of the blue—no pun intended. Hondo found himself suddenly more alert contrary to wanting to give into pleasure, Bane’s backup cock like that of a boa constrictor around his shaft, his breath staggering as Cad began to squeeze.

“Wh-what?” Hondo asked, dumbfounded, not thinking Bane truly believed he had lain with anyone, well, recently. Not since before their union, least of all that Quay who had styled his hair. Even as he tried to concentrate, to center himself, the overwhelming amount of physical sensation he was experiencing was everything he could have wished for and more.

“Nu! You are crazy—”

Hondo moaned again, Bane having hit his rhythm: rough, slow, and methodical, pounding his prostate while he pumped the pirate’s prick, up and down, jerking him off completely hands-free, despite it feeling like fingers caressing him. This allowed Bane to remove a holdout pistol from the confines of his duster, his LL-30’s residing on the floor, snug in their holsters.

“Ye ain’t seen crazy—fess up!” Bane demanded, Hondo finding the barrel of the tiny blaster placed against his temple, even as Bane drove it home with every stroke.

“Bane, nothing happened! You ridiculous man!” Hondo scowled, pushing his pelvis up into Bane’s. He met him full force, the Duros’ secondary dick mimicking a piston as Ohnaka’s balls flounced beneath him, Cad rutting him into the table though the blaster moved—it now resided inside the Weequay’s mouth.

“Ain’t ridiculous!”

“Wht ar yu ding!” Hondo’s words came out muffled, his eyes wide, though they continued to turn toward the back of his head. He wasn’t sure if he should be scared, or even more turned on, perhaps both, nearly gagging when he shoved the barrel farther inside.

“Tell de truth!” Bane demanded, “and make it quick!”

Hondo decided it would be the latter, not caring one iota that Bane had arched the ridge of his brow, the Weequay sucking on the end of the weapon like it was one of Cad’s pretty pricks. He slathered it in his saliva before he hummed around it, Ohanka gazing up at the Duros who now seemed both confounded and mildly entertained.

Hondo tilted his head back, announcing something akin to “phooey!” before he glowered at the hunter who had him pinned.

“I ded! I am! I—mn,” Hondo felt he was close, too close, ivory and gold gnawing along his bottom lip before he shook his head to clear it, hoping his lucidity would last.

Bane rocked forward, shoving his legs back once more, folding Hondo in half like some cheap sabacc table. He pummeled him with thrust after thrust, still gripping the palm-sized blaster in his hand.

“Dhen—dhen ye’ll teach me how te braid?” Cad’s voice cracked. No longer angry, Hondo felt his heart melt at the very idea he even wanted to learn. Alongside the most endearing thing he could ask for, Hondo knew exactly what it was Bane wanted to hear. Far be it from him not to indulge the lovely creature, so rare was it for Bane to be doted upon. It nearly broke his heart. He was more than just a nefarious, murderous, unscrupulous hired gun. He was a man with feelings—even if he kept them buried deep inside… except when he did not.

“Of course, my heart. My poor boy, my Moon, I adore you; love you; no one else compares tu you, believe me darling—I only wish et tu be you here wit me, at all times. De only Duros en de Galaxy for me,” the pirate promised, his voice taking on notes of honey, his words causing the hunter’s mouth to flex toward a frown—what had he done now?

“De only Duros? What about de other species,” Bane argued.

Hondo would have sighed had he not felt he was about to blow his load, ring-laden fingers reaching up to pet Cad’s cheek, or what he could reach of it, hating those pesky breathing tubes; the black cap that covered half his face.

“De only being alive—no, de only being en existence, dead or among de living—” he corrected, wanting to cover all his bases, knowing Bane all too well, “—dat has my heart, dat feeds my soul, dat—dat—”

Hondo was unable to finish his sentence, his cock beginning to spurt, Bane tossing the pistol behind himself onto the floor. A shot ricocheted somewhere in the background, Bane unwinding his spindly phallus next. Then, he shoved the pirate’s twitching prick backward against his belly with the flat of his hand, the Weequay’s ejaculate directed away from Bane and toward Ohnaka’s chest, staining his otherwise pristine tunic.

“You vile, evil—”

“—Ain’t gettin’ dhat mess on me.”

“Youuuu—”

Bane shoved his tongue into his mouth, thrusting harder, faster than before. Hondo found himself hanging on for dear life, his fingers scratching into the hunter’s boney hips. The Duros hissed a low sound directly into the Weequay’s maw, releasing a gelid jet of cum straight into Ohnaka’s nether regions at the same time the pirate finished. His semen was left to sit on his stomach while his cock was still held firmly in place by Bane, squashed underneath his palm.

“Not on de leather, ah?”

Ohnaka began to laugh, to giggle, Bane sneering down at him, one snaggletooth exposed as he rode out the last of his orgasm. Bane could go again right away; Hondo would need a bit to recuperate should the Duros wish to switch, but it seemed the pirate’s quip annoyed the Duros well enough that he didn’t wish to bother with another round.

“S’expensive,” he defended, finally lifting the hand pressed down on the Quay’s deflating cock, unsheathing himself to leave Hondo feeling impossibly empty, minus the thick, viscid fluid that would soon find its way out.

“A towel, my dear?” Hondo asked. Bane eyed him, as if deciding whether to help. After some thought, he disappeared behind the bar, finding some sort of dishrag that seemed fairly clean.

“Good ‘nough,” Bane smirked, worrying about himself now, tucking things back where they belonged as the pirate sat up to watch.

“I knew you’d cum—come—” Hondo grinned, “you cannot resist me or my siren’s call.”

“More like ye won’t stop commin’ me,” Bane retorted, moving to zip up his fly.

Hondo’s lower lip protruded. “Well, ef you would answer once or twice—maybe … maybe next time du not wait so long,” he said in his most petulant tone.

Bane would be hard-pressed not to feel some sort of guilt, giving Ohnaka a look as he refastened his holsters around his waif-thin waist. “Maybe next time ye don’t threaten te divorce me! Fweh … we ain’t even hitched,” he mumbled.

“Es dat something you…” Hondo hesitated, “dat es tu say…”

“Ah need a drink,” Bane flatly responded, wishing to avoid the topic altogether.

“We could be,” the Weequay offered, trying to sound as casual as possible.

The Duros gave an amused guffaw as he began to walk back toward the bar. “Ye couldn’t afford te keep me,” Bane chided.

Hondo glared daggers from across the room, muttering under his breath. “Du not tell me what I cannot afford, bounty hunter... Youuuu would be surprised…”

“Shot?” Bane asked, holding up a bottle of his favorite poison—Hondo kept it around for his sake.

The pirate gave his most alluring smile, forgetting any ill feelings and forgiving Bane his past transgressions, just as he always had and always would.

“Smoke?” he questioned in return.

“Sure.”

“Eh … Make et a double.”

Then, a thought. Hondo was not done pestering him, determined to get another little something of the Duros while his mood had not yet soured. “Won’t you indulge me next time? Just a little bit?”

“What are ye goin’ on about,” Bane grumbled, retrieving two clean glasses from off a shelf.

“De holocall… ef you ever miss me, perhaps you can show me just how much?”

Bane stared at him, as if Ohnaka had grown an extra head. “What.”

“You don’t ever miss me?” The scoundrel frowned, his shoulders mildly drooping.

Bane sighed. “’Course Ah do.”

Hondo perked right back up, as if he were but a marionette and Bane controlled his strings. “Den might you? For me?” he asked pitifully, gazing at him with soft, gray eyes.

Bane’s forehead scrunched in irritation; the Weequay did not waver except to poke his bottom lip out. “Fine!” he snapped, deciding to take a swig right from the bottle.

The pirate beamed as brightly as a main-sequence star, clapping his hands together so that they might hold each other atop his lap. “Excellent,” he said, “you will not regret et—may even enjoy et!”

Cad rolled his eyes as he poured Hondo a drink, not so stingy as to leave him empty-handed. It was his liquor, after all, wondering what he had just gotten himself into. “Here’s what Ah’d enjoy—ye cahn get dhat girl te clean up our jizz,” Bane snarked; Hondo knew he was serious.

“Of course, my love…”

Hondo would get Gwarm to do it; what better job for his second in command?

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nchlsdmn · 9 months ago

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Hello there! Earlier this year, the full plot of the Cad Bane/Boba Fett Clone Wars arc from Season 6 was revealed.

I was able to document the plot in case it ever got removed. Now, after months of research and editing, I present to you the full 4 episodes of the Bounty Hunters arc from the unfinished Star Wars The Clone Wars season.

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my-sun-m00n-and-stars · 5 months ago

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found this gem on tiktok. credit: nicyorktimes

#cad bane #star wars #cad bane x oc #cad bane x reader #duros #bounty hunter #star wars the clone wars #hondo ohnaka #boba fett #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #star wars prequels #star wars fanart #darth maul #general grevious

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astrangeroftides · 2 months ago

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Look, I don't know why I did this either

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monsieur-kazzle-dazzle · 2 years ago

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this is what happens when its late at night and i find a new meme making website

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goferwashere · 1 year ago

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PUNCH-OUT!! (Wii) MONSTER AU 🗣️💥

FIGHTING FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE IN THIS RING. LETS GO 🔥🔥

It’s a bit long so I added a cut 😭 I spent the past three days on this

THIS IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE BUT OH LORD I FORGOT HOW MUCH FUN MAKING AU’S IS

ALSO PLEASE PLEASE ADD MORE HC’S AND STUFF IF YOU HAVE ANY

Please just assume that just about every monster on this list comes with super strength unless stated otherwise.

Glass Joe:

Human - Monster Hunter/Boxer

- Wants to retire, but knows that without him some of the more unruly and dangerous monsters would dominate the circuit.

- Not everybody knows that *he’s* the infamous monster killer within the WBVA. Some do, but he doesn’t want it to be common knowledge. He needs the edge of “Poor, weak Glass Joe” to get the jump on his opponents.

- He doesn’t kill often, only if things get extremely out of hand. He’s basically the only thing keeping the humans and monsters from starting a full out war in the WVBA.

- Despite his job, He’s friends with a couple of the other boxers. Some knowing that they were monsters, some that he assumed were human and were actually monsters, and some that were just human.

- He doesn’t have anything against monsters, only those who try to take advantage of their power.

- He still trains and goes into the ring, trying to enjoy himself. To be fair, he does still enjoy boxing despite everything else he’s doing. Even if his record does stand at 1-99.

- On that note, his one win wasn’t an accident. He fully intended to win that fight, lacing Nick Bruisers gloves with Garlic so he’d be fighting with his hands essentially on fire.

- Even though he’s got a serious job, he far from a serious guy most of the time. He’s friendly with just about everybody, and tries to be civil with the people who treat him like shit.

- He’s also still clumsy. Almost died a few times as a result.

Von Kaiser:

Vampire - Boxer

- Being turned during his military service, he’s gotten good at hiding the obvious signs. He covers his bite mark and eye bags, and excessively dyes his skin using turmeric. (It fades fast though, leaving his skin looking a healthy colour.)

- Claims he has a garlic allergy, which makes him sad because he quite enjoyed garlic before turning.

- Enjoys the perks of being a vampire, but just can’t seem to keep up with the amount of blood his body demands. So he often twitches and looses focus, being sluggish and tired quite often.

- He enjoys the chase when tracking down his prey. It makes him feel powerful.

- Is 100% on the monster’s side. He believes that they’re superior, and will often be snarky with the human boxers (even if they’re ranked higher than him).

Disco Kid

Human (Possessed by Kid Quick) - Dancer/Boxer

- Disco is being possessed by the ghost of a boxer that was killed during one of his matches (yes that’s his unfinished business)

- Whenever he’s doing anything involving boxing, that’s Quick’s doing, but personality wise that’s always been Disco

- Disco is surprisingly chill with it, always wanting to try boxing but never having patience to train (so Quick does it for him lol)

- His personality leaks into Quicks movements and taunts, since despite liking boxing he’s got ‘no flair’ (As Disco puts it)

- Doesn’t have any super strength, but if they work together they can pull of some nasty combos, with Quick grabbing them and pushing them into Disco’s attacks (Disco isn’t a huge fan of that though, so it’s only really a last resort.)

- He’s honestly nervous when he finds out about the monsters in the WVBA. Quick assures him that they’ll be fine as long as they keep their heads down.

-…Which of course, Disco would never do. So when he gets mixed up in the drama he doesn’t really have anyone to blame but himself.

- He knows that he should *technically* count as a monster, but him and Quick are in support of the humans.

King Hippo

Tulpa - Boxer

- He was created by a little boy who loved boxing, and created him. Giving him a backstory and a cool design. He thought about him so much that he just. Spawned one day.

- The only thing on his mind was boxing, so that’s what he did. He has no idea that he was just a figment of some random kid’s imagination, but I doubt he’d care (or believe it) if he was told. His only goal is to box.

- Not really involved in any of the WVBA human/monster drama. He’s rather quiet outside of the ring.

- Nobody is really clear what he is, but everyone has mutually agreed that he’s not human. No way.

Piston Hondo

Human - Boxer

- Everyone who knows him has a lot of respect for Hondo. He fights fair, and his technique was able to beat actual superhumans (granted, some of those wins may have circumstantial).

- Some of the other boxers are really confused as to how he can keep his ranking, and make speculations as to how he does it, but no one can come up with a solid theory.

- Unless he’s exposed to be a dirty trickster like Ryan, or doped up like Soda, everyone just has to respect the insane effort he puts in.

- Hondo is oblivious to the fact that the WVBA is infested with monsters, and has always thought that international boxing would naturally have more difficult opponents. Nobody knows what would happen if he found out, but nobody wants him give up if he did. Just about everyone (regardless about what side they’re on) will band together to keep Hondo in the dark.

Bear Hugger

Werewolf - Boxer

- He’s more or less happy with being a werewolf. Obviously he’s mad when he has to lock himself up during the full moon, but otherwise he’s chill.

- Essentially a Disney princess with how well he gets along with wildlife. Like. It’s actually insane.

- Thought he’d do well in boxing, so quite literally trained with bears before going to NY. He thinks it’s noisy and polluted, but stays to hopefully bring down the champion and take the belt home to show his friends.

- Cheers on everyone, regardless of what they are. He doesn’t really care about the fate of the WVBA and is just there for a good time.

Great Tiger

Human - Informant/Boxer

- A skilled magic user. He’s been learning since he was a little kid, and the jewel on his turban gives him a good chunk of extra power.

- Uses his tricks to get intel and feed it to Joe.

- He *LOVES* to stir the pot. He knows that he’s safe, and may even stick out his neck for Joe, but will never do anything that’ll put himself in harms way.

- In the same vein he’s always listening to drama. He will gossip like a high schooler, and he knows everything about everyone. He loves being cheeky and keeping other boxers in the dark about what he knows.

- Literally the personification of “🎶I know something that you don’t know~🎵”

- He’s basically on an even playing field, so has no trouble keeping his place in the major league. Honestly, he’s more in it to see how this drama will play out, and who’ll come out on top.

Don Flamenco:

Siren - Matador/Boxer

- He very much using his ability to charm people all the time.

- This includes getting the ref to give him decision wins (even if he doesn’t deserve it), and always to leave a good first impression on just about everyone he meets.

- Yes, sometimes it’s also to pick up ladies (and men? Sometimes? Depends on his mood…) but will never go too far with it.

NOTE: While I think it would be totally in character for him to sleep with them, I don’t want that for him since that’s not consensual. so let’s say that despite seeing humans as lesser he doesn’t want to cross that line. (For his *own* sake of course. The last thing he would do is use tricks to woo “lesser creatures” to bed with him.)

- He’ll whisper under his breath after taunting, convincing the opponent to throw the match. But he’s not great at it, and will sometimes encounter someone who doesn’t have great hearing. He usually loses those matches.

- Wants an all-monster WVBA. He can manipulate just about anybody, and generally sees humans as lesser (Unless they’ve proven to him otherwise, like Joe and Hondo) so he wants them out.

- He’s very charming and friendly, but if you get on his bad side he is NASTY. Like ruin all your relationships and steal yo girl/man nasty. (He keeps all that under wraps though, he can’t have his image be tarnished.)

Aran Ryan:

Human - Boxer

- To everyone’s surprise, he’s actually human. But for all the craziness he projects out in the ring, he’s a smart guy.

- He taunts boxers by trying to get them to hit him because he knows that one wrong move and they’d expose themselves. If they hit him too hard (he figures that one punch would be enough to kill him with their strength) he might die but knows that it’ll be hell to pay for their opponent as well.

- Same with the headbutts, it throws them off their rhythm because they need to react, even if they didn’t feel it.

- That’s why he cheats, because he knows that without it he’d stand no chance.

- But still, you can’t be asking people you know could kill you easily to hit you and be mentally stable. He’s still eccentric about making it as a boxer, this is just an extra challenge to him.

- Has a disdain for monsters, and will do just about anything he can to gain in upper hand in those fights. That flail has gotten him out of a few sticky situations.

Soda Popinski:

Human - Boxer

- He can only compete fairly (at world circuit level at least) because he’s doped up to hell and back.

- Way into the idea of the ‘indomitable human spirit’. He truly believes that human ingenuity can overcome any challenge, and this is no exception.

- He 100% wants to get monsters out of the WVBA. But because he knows that he’s already got a big enough target on his back for cheating he can’t make a big fuss publicly.

Bald Bull:

Minotaur - Boxer

- Nobody’s really sure where he came from, but some people have seen him in his Minotaur form and that’s been enough for the others to accept them onto their side.

- He’s close with a lot of the other monsters, and follows along with their plan to have monsters take over the WVBA circuits. He only does so for them, he doesn’t have a personal agenda.

- This is the first place he’s really felt accepted, so will do what his friends ask of him even if he isn’t entirely on board with it.

- That said, he does belittle the human competitors quite often. To their face and while they aren’t present.

Super Macho Man:

Dragon - Supermodel/Bodybuilder/Boxer

- Got tired of living in a cave, and made it to LA to see what had become of humanity.

- By god, he loved it. He’d chosen a particularly handsome form (even though he didn’t know it at the time) and loved the attention he got from the ladies. He quickly picked up on our customs and had plenty of gold to sell (after years of hoarding it up in a mountain somewhere, he figured that now was the time to use it).

- Always wears enchanted golden jewellery, because the last thing he wants is for his facade to slip. He doesn’t need all of it, but to him it’s a necessary precaution.

- He can breathe fire. He does it often as a party trick, and has even figured out how to change its colour.

- His skin is also very hot to the touch. You’d think he was always just finishing with an intense workout.

Mr. Sandman:

??? - Boxer

- Nobody knows, and nobody is brave enough to ask. He seems to beat monsters with relative ease, so everyone assumes he must be one as well, but nobody can figure him out.

- Everyone wants to keep him out of what’s happening, because he’s a loose canon. Nobody knows who’s side he belongs to and nobody wants to find out they’re his enemy.

PLEASE HELP ADD ONTO THIS IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS BECAUSE IM EXPLODING OVER THIS

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doodlingfoolishness · 9 months ago

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More doodles from yesterday: clones!, the First Order encampment drawn on location at Disneyland, a quick doodle of Hondo drawn in line for Smuggler’s Run at Disneyland, and Mayday with a tooka.

#the bad batch #the clone wars #Batuu #Disneyland #hondo ohnaka #commander mayday #clone commander mayday #echo bad batch #crosshair bad batch #tech bad batch #commander cody #captain Rex #omega bad batch #wrecker bad batch #hunter bad batch

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archivewriter1ont · 5 months ago

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Unveiling the Saved at the Citadel: Fives Lives And Joins the Batch AU

I have been working on this in my brain for a WHILE and I'm so happy to finally share it! The plan is to begin posting a few fics in this AU during May (following the Months of the Bad Batch, Fives May, as that would be 5555-05).

There are many, many, many details I can't wait to explore in some more in-depth writing but here is the bullet-pointed gist of the AU ⬇️⬇️

Intro to the Saved at the Citadel AU

Instead of the heartbreaking mess that was the ending of the Citadel arc, we see the welcome arrival of Rex and Company's unexpected rescuers -- the Bad Batch! Clone Force 99 was on a separate mission in nearby space and received a broken-up distress call from the party on Lola Sayu. The batchers realize that it's Big Brother Cody and some dude named Rex, Big Bro's other favorite brother, and show up with a shock-and-awe response that would make the trigger-happy Alpha-17 beam with pride.

Echo is not presumed dead at the Citadel or taken to Skakko and Fives does not have his chip arc or die.

The Domino ARC Twins and Rex are sent immediately on a different mission with the Batchers, destination unknown, after a specific target. During the assignment, Rex comes to respect the Batchers just as he did in their TCW arc, and the Dominos find themselves becoming attached to these four defects who are simultaneously rough around the edges and extremely welcoming.

After everything is said and done, Echo and Fives decide to transfer to the Bad Batch. Rex lets them go, just as he did with Echo in Unfinished Business, and continues to check in regularly.

The newly expanded Bad Batch goes on a variety of exciting adventures as a six-man squad, becoming an even more deadly machine as the twins integrate into their new family. On a return trip to Kamino, Tech comes across some strange rumors of a clone who lost it on the battlefield and was transferred back to their home planet for evaluation. Fives volunteers to snoop around with the genius once they get planet side, and that's how the Batch finds out about the inhibitor chips.

While Tech and Fives are rescuing Tup and gathering evidence to take before the Jedi and the Senate regarding the chips (because while the Batch may be wary, the twins know a few Jedi and politicians who will not be happy about this info) Hunter and the others are trying to cover for them...and stumble across a blonde-haired little lab assistant who calls them by their names.

With Tup and Omega in tow, the Batch heads to Coruscant to inform the Jedi and confront the Senate. Secrets are revealed, from the origins of the Clone Wars to Anidala to the existence of a Second Sith, and new allies must be found, made, or blackmailed to uncover the entire, widespread plot to overthrow the Republic.

The Batch calls up all their favors and old contacts, including Fox, Quinlan, and even a certain lady pirate that Tech and Echo accidentally met on a recent undercover mission (and a rather annoying Weequay they wish they didn't know at all) to help pull off the counter-overthrow.

The Jedi gladly go along with the scheme and confront the Senate. In the madness, Hunter ends up just a little too close to the Chancellor and...

Hunter: "Cody...is the Chancellor a Jedi?" Cody: "No." Hunter: "Ok then he's the Sith." Cody: "What?" Hunter: "Unless the Jedi just give out those laser swords like party favors." Obi-Wan: "How exactly do you know that he has one?" Hunter: "Felt it. All your sabers give off a weird EM pulse. They're different flavors but they all make me want to sneeze."

Now all the Jedi are royally pissed -- 1. that they didn't see this before and 2. that all the suffering brought by the war has happened due to Palpatine's greed. It doesn't take very long for every available Jedi in the system to converge at the Temple to help take down the Chancellor.

But they end up just being the decoy squad. As Mace Windu and Yoda cause a distraction by confronting Palps directly, sabers drawn, Crosshair uses a slugthrower to snipe the Chancellor through a window. He wishes he could undo this as he is forevermore dubbed by Fives "The Mighty SithSlayer."

The Jedi hide the Batch in the Temple for a few days until they can set the record straight to the public, giving the six saviors of the Galaxy plenty of time to rest after their crazy saving-the-universe ordeal and play with the younglings who are ecstatic to meet real-life heroes. This also gives Tech and Echo time to go over the records from Kamino and find the location of a certain Mount Tantiss, where a certain Hemlock was centralizing medical equipment and personnel for Project Necromancer and other unsavory programs.

Phee decides that after all the ruckus on Coruscant, Tech needs an extended vacation on this really nice, beachy planet she knows about. She graciously allows the other five to tag along with their newly discovered baby (older?) sister.

Tantiss is taken over by the GAR, with CF99 spearheading the operation as the special forces group. Emerie is brought over to the good guys, and she, Tech, and a myriad of scientists from across the stars use the on-world base to house their genetic research operation. Within months, after dedicated research and help from Nala Se, who was given a generous plea deal in return for her assistance, every clone trooper is given the gene therapy required to halt their accelerated aging.

Everyone lives happily ever after on Pabu and elsewhere, including Mayday. Fives becomes the island storyteller and immortalizes the Batch escapades through that.

I have so many fics I want to write for this AU it would boggle your mind. Seriously...it is not even funny.

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cakbanedraws · 1 year ago

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Did some variant covers of my fancomic, I try to study Hugo Pratt line arts (the creator of Corto Maltese). The results looks a bit cool I guess.

#cak bane draws #The Hunter and The Pirate #comic covers #cover #star wars #cad bane #hondo ohnaka #bounty hunter #space pirates #fanart #the bad batch #fan comic #hugo pratt #corto maltese

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louvao · 2 years ago

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STAR WARS ALPHABET

#star wars #sw polls #hera syndulla #tbb hunter #clone trooper hardcase #han solo #hondo ohnaka #hyuang

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thecrossoverwriter15 · 3 months ago

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Bane fans!

If any of you guys are planning on writting a Cad Bane fanfiction, this video explains his character in depth! Maybe it’ll give a little more info for your works! I know I’ll be using it for my crossover fic when it’s made one day…😂

youtube

#the clone wars #cadbane #hondo ohnaka #star wars bounty hunter #cad bane x oc #cad bane x reader #Youtube

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sinisterexaggerator · 12 days ago

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Do Not Disturb (part 2)

Cad Bane x Hondo Ohnaka (Banaka)

If you had asked him to explain himself, well, he’d just say it wasn’t any of your business. But truthfully, Hondo had grown on Bane—like a tumor. One he couldn’t get rid of, but that had melded with his heart.

Notes/Warnings: This is a fic based on an already established relationship! This is SMUT. It is also CRACK and meant to be funny! Expect a mutual masturbation session via holo, lots of sass and attitude. *Cad Bane is intersex.

Word count: 5.5k

Special thanks to @allsystemsblue for helping me with the Sriluurian curse words and for assisting in the dialogue!

There is room for a part 3, but I will probably just end it here. xD

Ao3 link

RETURN TO PART ONE

The blue void of pseudomotion stretched out before him like a yawning, deep-sea chasm, the only thing breaking up its linear monotony being the specks of stars and celestial bodies that zoomed by at the pace of lightspeed. These objects may as well have been seared into the hunter’s retinas for how long he’d been starin’, knowin’ it would be another two rotations before he reached the Abregado system; the Duros was headed toward a world that shared its same name—Abregado-rae. It was a lawless place that harbored thieves and smugglers, pirates; amongst them was Bane’s next target.

Pirates … he knew a few of those himself, didn’t he?

Bane’s mind wandered, his thoughts floating toward the Weequay he had left on Florrum some few weeks prior. Already, he had traversed parts of the Mid Rim, cutting through the Colonies to venture onward and toward the Core. He’d secured one bounty since he and Hondo had last parted ways—a Rodian who owed a Hutt. His quarry didn’t have the credits to make up for his mistake, so he’d pay with his life, as per his instructions. Some … poachin’ gig gone wrong. Animals—valuable ones—had escaped their cages under his care, or lack thereof.

Wasn’t Bane’s business, not until it was.

Yet he found himself with time to kill, his brain conjuring up images of things that hadn’t happened yet, or things that had, all stored in his nearly photographic memory.

Some might say he rivaled a droid in his retention, able to remember events, places, people’s faces, past transgressions—enough to damn well hold a grudge. But in the here and now, his higher-order skills were used to think about somethin’ he didn’t too often ponder on, or at least not as often as Ohanka—sex.

Bane wasn’t a prude by any means, but Hondo was on a whole other level, needin’ a wank at least once a day, if not more. Sometimes, Bane went without for weeks, months—it all depended on where he was, what he was doing. Rarely did these types of thoughts ever cross his mind—not until he realized there must be some kind of reason he was feelin’ so wound up, tension havin’ collected itself in his neck and shoulders, for one thing, the other being the elevation in his already piss poor mood.

The attitude—it would get worse. On occasion, he couldn’t think straight—not until he’d rubbed one out. Todo would be the one to comment on it. Somethin’ about organics and their primal urges.

Bane would sneer at the mere suggestion, then lock himself away. Todo might be a little too in tune with his biological processes, but he had added that bit to his programming, bothering to work around the droid’s facetious personality—it only made him better at his job.

Lucky for Bane, his little yes-man was down in the hold. He was sure he was at his recharge station, preparing for when they finally berthed in Abregado-rae Spaceport, just outside the infamous Cantina District.

Bane could use a drink, come to think of it. He could also use a bit of something else…

No. That was just his hormones talkin’.

Bane often refused to listen, even to the detriment of his mental faculties. Still, that didn’t stop him from replaying one particular event from his last stint at Hondo’s on loop, the Weequay buried between his legs for over an hour; Bane had held no complaints, for once.

One thing that man had on him was a mouth. At first, Bane thought it was made for nothin’ but talk—but come to find, Ohnaka had talents that could make the Duros’ toes curl inside his boots, had he happened to still be wearin’ any. He was willin’ to forgive all sorts of things at the recollection of the pirate’s black tongue swirling amongst his insides—it was a powerful tool, and Ohnaka made sure to put it to good use, time and time again.

Bane failed to notice his fingers digging into the armrest, the other hand pushing down on a bulge that had started to take shape. Arousal was anathema when your trousers were as tight as his—Hondo would joke it was as if Bane was wearin’ some sort of chastity belt to the hunter’s grim chagrin. What Bane knew was that Hondo didn’t seem to mind the view once all was said and done, and Bane was for damn sure still gonna wear ‘em.

Even so, he checked himself, teeth grinding against teeth as his jaw worked toward the right, Bane irritated the scene kept buggin’ him, like a blood fly that didn’t know when to buzz off.

Soon, he found himself unfastening his holsters, letting his gun belt drift to either side of his hips. He remained seated in his captain’s chair, facing the viewport, two digits pinching at the stop on his zipper once he had finished unbuttoning his pants.

He scooched ‘em down, shimmying the waistband to just past the crack of his ass, leaving his blacks untouched for the moment as he contemplated something.

Bane glanced to the holotransceiver, red eyes squinting at the square shaped button—all it would take to summon Hondo up on the screen was a press of his finger, Bane debating on whether it was a dumb idea.

But this is what he wanted—the pirate had been very specific last time—a little too specific, if you asked Bane, though he felt giving the Quay a comm would be well appreciated, especially since the Duros had gone and found himself feeling some type of way.

And he had never been one for this sort of thing. Bane usually made quick work of it. He’d never invited anyone to his masturbation sessions, it being more of a private affair.

Hondo, on the other hand, tried to coerce him to join every chance he could, callin’ him all hours, and sometimes more than once. It was uncommon for Bane to entertain him, though when he did, it was as if his eyes lit up like a kid in a crunchie store, even if the hunter only deigned to watch.

Against his better judgement, Bane activated his comm, Hondo’s frequency one of the few on speed dial, minus those few other hunters he kept on hand for if he had a job worth mentioning. It was unusual for Bane to partner up with anyone, lest he couldn’t pull off a contract all by himself.

What was more unusual was that he had taken to one of the most nettlesome, pompous scoundrels in the galaxy. If you had asked him to explain himself, well, he’d just say it wasn’t any of your business. But truthfully, Hondo had grown on Bane—like a tumor. One he couldn’t get rid of, but that had melded with his heart.

So he sat back and waited, Bane thinking ahead in prying apart his blacks at the seam. He dipped his fingers down and under, withdrawing his reptilian cocks from their sheath, idly stroking the length of them, seconds away from callin’ it quits already.

Asinine was what this was, though he’d grin and bear it, only insofar if Ohnaka answered in the next few minutes, Bane’s anticipatory self-abasement already syphoning away his nerve.

“Dummy always around until Ah want ‘em,” the Duros growled.

---

“Yes, yes, I understand, Tristukk. What you fail tu understand, es dat I will not lift a single finger, and neither will any of. my. men, unless we have first discussed dis your payment, hm?”

Hondo Ohnaka reclined leisurely in his chair, nothing but a desk between him and the Sullustan who sat across from him. There were two others on either side of this … ringleader, the lot of them an up-and-coming band of outlaws who smuggled spice, yet they needed a few upgrades for their ship—parts that Ohnaka had a lead on—but not unless the price was right.

“You know, I used to work for SoroSuub, I could just make my own heuristic processor out of spare junk for the amount you—”

“—Yes, yes, you could ... but. BUT! How long will dat take you, ah? And until such a time, you are, how you say, out of de game, nu? Surely, your most prestigious clientele will be none tuu happy. I can have you back en de skies within de week, and fully armed, ah?”

“Maybe we’ll just steal one,” came Tristukk’s reply.

Ohnaka smiled, his eyes curling up at the corners. “And are you good at stealing?”

Just then, a sound jarred the Weequay, momentarily keeping him from delivering the rest of his impeccable sales pitch, for he was sure he had the Sullustan right where he wanted him—beneath his thumb.

And yet, this was … odd.

Odd, though it should not have been. He often prayed to Quay for that particular line to ring—and here it was, chiming repeatedly at a most inconvenient time.

“Huh,” the pirate enunciated beneath his breath, recognizing the frequency that graced his comm channel almost immediately, his heartbeat kicking up a notch, wondering at the reason for Bane’s call. He hardly ever reached out when on a job—what if it was some kind of emergency?

“Gentleman, one moment. I need tu take dis,” he started, thinking nothing of answering when others were present. He would simply warn the hunter—he was in the middle of his own business, after all. Though Hondo wanted to set a precedent—he was never too busy to speak to the man that held him—sometimes quite literally—by the throat.

The pirate tilted forward, activating a new holosession. It took a moment for him to register just what he was witnessing, the Weequay’s eyes growing two sizes bigger beneath reflective transparisteel. Thankfully, the only thing the Sullustans could see was the backside of the Duros’ chair.

And what a sight it was—Bane with his legs resting leisurely apart, both his girths lightly held in the palm of a large hand, leather gloves removed.

He was frozen until Bane spoke in his rough, enchanting drawl.

“Hondo, whaddeye say te—”

Just as quickly as he had answered, Ohnaka cut the feed, standing abruptly to his feet, already aware that what he had done would come with severe repercussions. He felt the blood rush from his face, the Weequay turning a paler shade, thinking quickly for some sort of excuse, though he ultimately did not have much of one to offer.

“I apologize, Tristukk, uh, others—but I must ask you tu leave. Immediately.”

“What?!” Tristukk demanded, jumping up from his seat a second later, his tone indignant, as if he was being treated unfairly. “But we are not done discussing—”

“—yes, very unfortunate, but uh, someting just sprang up,” Hondo interrupted, and he was not being facetious. “Please, escort yourselves. We will reconvene once I am able. And uh, a discount! For de trouble, ah?”

His potential business partner glared, huffing and puffing on his way out of Hondo’s office, being ushered briskly and with little care for rudeness. Tristukk’s men followed close behind, Hondo assuming he had lost an opportunity for quite a bit of spice to land easily in his lap, but it was no matter—not in this case. What awaited him, he hoped, was far more valuable.

“Farewell, gentleman! Feel free tu stop by de bar for a drink before heading back tu your ship. We have everyting your heart could possibly desire!”

The door shut with a click. Hondo wasted no time in locking it tight, rushing back toward the communications console as he hastily hopped on one foot, attempting to dislodge first one boot, and then the other, the pirate stumbling awkwardly all the way to his cluttered workspace.

Well, it was a sort of workspace. Oftentimes it housed treasure, alcoholic beverages, or even Bane himself should the Duros be up for a quickie, Ohnaka slamming his palm down to smash the button that would redial his fickle Duros.

“Biat! Sitsheth!”

It rang and rang, of course, Hondo in the midst of unfastening his ornate buckle as he cursed loudly and obscenely, commanding thin air to do his bidding. “Pick up, damn et! I knowwww you are dere.”

The pirate sat back down, eager to see the hunter’s face—among other parts—once more, no matter how grumpy it might be. Though when the comm went straight to voice message, Ohnaka fumed, his temper apparent in his tone, even after having exerted himself in taking off his boots. He knew Bane was being stubborn in not answering, most likely sitting there, listening, refusing outright. What a life it was to deal with such a pigheaded, beguiling creature.

“Bane! I am alone. Pick up de holo! Du not du dis tu me,” Hondo whined; he would kick himself had he missed his chance. “I am sorry, my heart. I was busy! Business—you must understand!”

Finally, the relay beam flashed to life, the faint outline of his beloved blue beauty taking shape before him with legs still spread wide. His hat was down low over his bony brow, elliptic eyes all but shaded by its brim. Bane’s posture told Hondo all he needed to know—he was still miffed, though hopefully with some charm—and a little bit of wit—the pirate could coax him out of his sour mood.

Yet, he was so taken it was hard to say anything else. Bane was incredibly attractive, though Hondo was not sure there was a word fitting enough in the vocabulary of any language to properly do the Duros justice in the looks department. With a pounding heart, Ohnaka tried and failed to catch his breath. Feigning nonchalance, his greeting came out strained and awkward.

“Hello, my handsome one!”

Bane sneered, yet still Hondo could not see the hunter’s eyes. There were times he despised that hat, though he looked so good in it.

“Don’t hello me,” the Duros snapped.

“But, my dear—”

“—No one better of seen dhat,” Bane interjected, his voice thick with venom.

“Not one eye!” Hondo assured him. “Iiiii cut de comm before I could even see de second one!” he promised, referring to Bane’s pretty cocks, though he had seen everything—a little white lie never hurt anyone, as far as Hondo was aware.

“Why de hell ye barefoot,” Cad asked, squinting at the laidback position the Weequay was in.

“Ah, uhhh—” he skipped over answering; it just happened to be his preference, Hondo deciding to get this show on the road before Bane changed his mind, if he hadn’t already. “I am eager tu get started, my heart. De door es locked. My pants are off! Ready, set … go!”

“Go? “What’s it ye exspect Ah’m doin’?”

Hondo thought that if he could sweat, he most assuredly would be, though his warm-blooded, reptilian nature prevented that. “Well, your coat es off.” The Weequay leaned forward, closer to the image of Bane before him, “your pants are … open? And how blessed for dat we are, ah? We know how long et takes you tu get undressed. We can get right. down. tu business!”

Bane snickered, “ain’t even hard no more.”

If ever Bane saw a pout, the one produced by Hondo in that moment could melt glaciers, the Weequay’s form drooping insofar the Duros thought he might actually slide out of his chair.

“Ferget it, dhis is stupid, anyhow.”

To Hondo’s dismay, Bane reached for the comm on his side, preparing to disconnect them. In a panic, and with his voice elevated, he begged for him to wait. “Nononono, my love! Let me reverse et, yes? I can wake him up once more. I am betting on et.”

Bane looked something halfway between smug and irritated. “Doubt dhat.”

Before Bane could say anything else, Hondo pushed down both sides of his pants. He reached into his desk drawer and fetched a bottle of something Bane knew was there, for however many times he had used it on him. Withdrawing his own prick from his trousers, he squirted a bit of lube into his hand; it was cool and sticky and reminded him of Bane’s delicious byproduct. Oftentimes, it was all they needed.

“Look, my darling. Ef you must, you can record dis and save et for later. Et es just you and I here now. No need tu worry—but ef you must disappear once more, I send you my love and dis kiss.” Hondo leaned forward and blew one with his hand, first touching his lips to his palm before releasing it toward the sulking Duros.

It seemed something changed in him, whether or not it was Hondo’s imagination. Bane’s eyes traveled down to where the Weequay was leisurely stroking himself, speaking in an offhanded, petulant tone. “Yer karkin’ me next time.”

Hondo wanted to smile, though he was afraid to do anything of the sort. Any wrong move or missteps might scare the Duros off. “My desk awaits,” he said evenly.

Then, a miracle: Bane seemed curious. “Tell me how yer gonna do it.” He nearly demanded it rather than asked, though the pirate was more than happy to oblige—beyond happy—anything to appease his mercurial mercenary.

Hondo’s eyes roamed; they twinkled like stars in the nighttime sky. Bane once more had presented his cocks, squeezing his dual phalli in the palm of one hand. He was elated then, unable to stop himself from grinning like some horned devil while Bane almost appeared shy. Ohnaka would be quick to entertain him, deciding that he would start from the beginning, lest he lose him along the way.

The pirate cleared his throat, then leaned back in his chair. He wanted Bane to be in full view of what was about to happen—a front-row seat. Beginning to stroke himself, he added a bit of extra lube, then set the tube off to the side.

“Well, I imagine you have come from off a job, ah? Whatever et es, et maybe takes you a week, because you are so good at what you du, my heart.”

Bane felt like rolling his eyes, knowing that the pirate was buttering him up. Still, he would withstand his nonsense, Ohnaka’s gaze having ensnared him as the Quay gave him a crooked smile. Bane knew he liked to tease him, but he tolerated it, his only reasoning being that he cared about the scoundrel. That, in and of itself, would always be enough.

“I suppose I am busy en my office, as per usual. Constructing plans for dis next venture I am tu undertake, when lo and behold, a beautiful man walks in—et es you, of course. Smelling like de desert, of leather, of smoke. Of my favorite pastries you picked up for me when you come home—out of love, yes? Ah, but you ate one. I forgive you. And den, you step enside and order de idiots en my company tu leave.”

Feeling as if he had the Duros’ full attention, Hondo brushed the tip of his thumb over the mushroom tip of his cock, distributing the lube more generously down the length of his shaft. “I chuckle, for anytime you bark orders at me, et makes my prick twitch.”

“—Pastries?” Bane finally interjected, caught on the minute details—those things he felt were ridiculous compared to anything else.

“—Iiiii get up tu greet y—yes, remember? De ones from—”

“—get te de fuckin’ part,” Bane growled, though maybe, just maybe, he was enjoying Hondo’s little narrative, especially knowing Hondo enjoyed it when Bane was bossy.

“Right, yes, I was. Ahem.” Hondo began again, a bit flustered, but nothing he could not ignore. “As I was saying, I get up tu greet you.”

He paused, just in case.

Bane had the nerve to yawn, flashing his teeth.

The Weequay glared, gray eyes narrowing into slits as thin as flimsi. “Den,” he said, “you piss me off.”

The Duros smirked a shit-eating smirk, one fang poking out from the edge of his cracked and withered lips. “What are ye gonna do about it.”

If the Duros was trying to get under his scales, it was working, the indignant Quay sitting up more thoroughly in his chair. “I toss de box of delicious pastries across de room—I shall mourn dem later, for now I yank you by your coat, and ask you why de hells you enjoy making me so angry.”

Bane’s smirk widened to a grin; meanwhile, he had begun to lightly glide his fingers back and forth, the glimmer in his ruby eyes seeming to increase in its intensity. “Yeah?”

“But den you laugh,” Hondo continued, thoroughly annoyed, “so I push you entu my desk. I tell you tu apologize, but you are sooo smug. SO SMUG,” the pirate reiterated, finding himself a little too heated in the moment.

“Heh,” was all his blue counterpart said, Bane leaning back this time, stretching himself out to a more comfortable position as he settled in. Though this should come as a relief to the pirate, now he was all worked up. Still, that did not mean his story had ended—no, he had much more to tell.

“I du not want tu see dat smart-assed smirk of yours, so I pull you off de desk once more, only so I can turn you around tu face away. I kick your feet apart and shove your coat tu de side, for such a wicked man you have been.”

Bane snorted a laugh, as if the idea amused him. Hondo’s glare restricted even further, if that was possible.

“I reach around and rip off your belt. I tell you how you should be less of a cocky little shit. I can tell you are hard, and I let you know et es I who made you dis way.”

“Mhm…” Bane hummed, the top of one broad thumb swiping over the heads of his own pricks; they were pinched together, shaft against shaft. Clearly, the Duros was enjoying himself, even if at the expensive of Hondo’s dissipating good mood.

“Et es evident you enjoy being a brat. But dis es not de first time I have dealt wit dat sort of attitude. I free your pants and reach enside—coil my warm fingers around you … Ah, but you are already dripping and slick for me, horrible little boy dat you are. Den I press myself against you—let you feel how angry you have made me.”

During all this, Bane was working himself harder, his strokes lengthening, though he was still languorous, still thoughtful. To Hondo, it appeared that he was in no rush to get this over with—a good sign, despite everything.

“Hmmm …” the Duros purred, “dhat all?”

What gall!

“Nuu!” Hondo snapped, both extremely nettled and highly aroused. “En fact, ef dat es what you dare have de nerve tu tell me, I jerk dose tuu tight pants clean off your thighs! De ones I know you wear just tu distract me. As ef my attention span could take much more!”

“Ain’t wearin’ ‘em fer no one but m’self,” Bane remarked coolly, his long, lithe fingers curving around the underside of his pricks, caressing gently, Hondo’s gaze indubitably drawn toward the small set of movements, partially distracted even now.

“I’m sure,” Hondo tersely replied, eyeing him.

“S’what’s hidin’ unda dhere ye like,” Bane added, peering up at him from under the brim of his bolero.

Hondo’s heart nearly stopped beating for how cute Bane looked. But no, this was a brat worth taming, he thought—he could not lose his focus, however tricky it was to maintain.

“Of course, et es,” Hondo snapped, his cock flexing at the thought of it, even though Bane sat there right before him, more or less. He responded in turn, giving his shaft a squeeze before the pad of his thumb massaged the head, the Weequay feeling a tug from the seat of his belly as he studied the handsome Duros, wishing he was right now buried up to his balls inside him.

“Now, ef I may continue after being so rudely interrupted,” Hondo said.

Bane made a hand gesture, palm up, offering Ohnaka the floor once more, that same, puerile smile threatening to be the death of him, though he would not go down that easily.

“I slap your bare, flat ass; tell you tu spread your legs for me, but you are difficult. Always difficult,” Hondo hissed, wanting to get his point across, “as ef I could expect for anything else—”

“—Flat?!”

“I grab you by de neck and force you down,” Hondo said without missing a beat, refusing to give Bane time to become angry at his slight. If the Duros searched his soul, he knew him to be correct, though that was not to say flat was bad, per se. “I force dose skinny hips of yours up and remove my belt, hmm?”

It was no surprise that the Duros’ hand had slowed, though he had not stopped pumping his pricks all together. Still, Hondo was confident he would not lose him—not after this next part, even if he was already well on the way to glaring.

“You are surprised tu see dat I am using et to tie your arms behind your back; et makes et quite simple tu manipulate you whilst I fuck you, my terrible boy. I wipe some of de slick off your pricks, your slit, your clit, and smooth it down my dick, making et glisten; all de easier tu slide et inch by inch enside you, ah?”

Bane had gone and partly hid his eyes, sliding down in his seat a bit farther. He peered out at the holoprojection of Hondo with a little less of a smile, though he had traded his self-satisfied expression for one that was just a mite salacious.

Hondo was unable to curtail his grin, almost proud of himself for getting this far, Bane’s legs spread to their utmost width as he had picked up his pace, Ohnaka knowing the bounty hunter both inside and out, like the back of his hand.

The Quay has no stranger to the Duros’ unique anatomy. Once calling himself isskaynin, the Durosian word for “both,” Hondo left it at that, unconcerned with what was inside those tight pants of his, only that there were numerous ways to pleasure him, there being a plethora of methods he could use in which to make Bane moan his name.

“Yer fairly good aht dhis,” Bane quipped; it caught the pirate off guard.

“Fairly—” Hondo took a breath. “Fairly good?!”

The statement served not as a compliment, but as a jab at the Weequay’s short temper. Whereas Hondo knew Bane, Bane also knew Hondo, including exactly what buttons to push for when to get a rise out of the man.

It was a degradation! Of course he was good at this! Hondo’s sexual prowess was known the galaxy over before he had taken the hunter into his heart for keeps. He prided himself on his skills, his charms, his eloquent use of suggestive language, making women and men often come untouched! For Bane to say he was “fairly good” had the scoundrel fuming; it was a surprise that steam did not shoot out of his tapered ears.

“Vesmoth! Etie! Mordun il!” How can you be serious? All dis you could have of me, yet you deprive me for weeks! And for what! For me tu listen tu your vulgar insults!? What love es dis you have for me, tu treat me as such, ah? Of course I am good at et! Du you know for how many times I have given pleasure tu others? For dem to yell my name, “Hondo!” Dat es how good I am, little man. Little Duros—petulant, infuriating, abhorrent child!”

Hondo reached forward this time, his posture indicating he was ready to turn off the comm on his end at a moment’s notice. If you had said so earlier, the pirate would never have been one to believe he would be the person threatening to flip the switch.

“You du nothing but give me grief! I ought tu hang up on you right now! Tell me why I bother tu—”

Then, a most alluring sight filled the Weequay’s vision, or rather, it happened simultaneously, the little shit of a man before him ever so slightly undulating his hips. “You are de most—”

It was obvious the Duros was breathing harder; Hondo was getting harder, strengthening his hold on his own cock as the bounty hunter toyed with his; he was running his palm under and along them in a steady, heady rhythm, causing the Weequay to want to salivate, yet he held onto his anger.

“—ridiculous—”

Bane bit into his bottom lip, though he was grinning like he was high on cheap, inferior spice. Inferior, because Hondo was angry—only those on the best of his good sides received the good stuff!

Still, it was captivating, the bastard’s bony hips subtly thrusting forward, ever so gently humping the seat he sat in, legs far apart and feet flat on the floor.

Hondo’s fingers had been millimeters away from the button that would sever their connection. He paused, thin digits curling inward so that he formed a fist, eyes squinting maliciously at the shadow of the man who masturbated so deliciously before him.

“You tink dis es funny? You find joy en pissing me off?” Hondo asked. The Duros nodded, craning his neck back to rest his head, red eyes closed beneath the brim of his hat.

“Love it when ye get all crinkly eyed,” he said, his voice oddly soft, breathy, mocking.

Hondo’s own eyes widened even as the Duros’ remained shut. He knew where this was going.

“Crinkly eyed?”

Hondo would contain himself no longer.

“Mes ni’at lest haas echt! Mod’ar ir Atta le’etvest! Du bi’bam vat eshat’nec! Vat lest rey echt, yetsut! Mes vestet vu ichm’al vat al duroc! Et’suun?! Hal iat mort?!”

The Weequay spat out a string of curses in Sriluurian, calling Bane a list of names he never would be brave enough to say in anything but his native tongue—a tongue Bane had picked up in bits and pieces. He wasn’t fluent, but Hondo’s tone was evidence enough that the words were, by all intents and purposes, incredibly explicit.

Bane didn’t know what the hell he was saying, but it sent him over the edge; Hondo had prevented his own pleasure, the feeling all but lost while the Duros ejaculated into his own hand. First one hemipenis, then the other, a few seconds apart. That did not always happen—Hondo should feel flattered, yet all he felt was bitterness and the taste of something sour in the back of his throat.

Yet he couldn’t deny how sexy Bane looked. Never before had Hondo seen him come undone like this—not without himself being the cause of it. He supposed he was in the scheme of things. Bane wasn’t shy but reserved when it came to certain … activities.

He was careful who saw him do what, vigilant of his surroundings at all times. Only recently was he coming around to letting down his guard in the presence of the pirate, knowing that Florrum was a safe place—safe in that Hondo made the rules, and no man dare break them if they wished to live.

And here it was—the bounty hunter was chuckling, laughing at the end result, wiping his hand off on the side of his pants. Then he lifted his head. Hondo was still glaring, now quiet as ever—which was a rare thing indeed—and it ought to have been disturbing.

“Why aren’t ye jerkin’ it?” Bane asked, seemingly oblivious—still floating, still drunk off his own orgasm, eyes heavy-lidded—with a fractional smirk twisting at the top corner of his slender mouth.

With that, Hondo stood. He made a point of roughly zipping up his fly, though careful of his privates—accidents could happen. Bane watched, not saying a word, panting lightly after exerting himself, though he wondered if this should be a cause for concern.

“Just youuuu wait until you get here! See what will happen tu you!” came the pirate’s reply; Bane’s smirk broaden into a grin.

“Oh, yeah? Ah’m shakin’ in m’boo—”

The comm clicked; Hondo was gone, leaving Bane alone in the cockpit of his ship with an arched brow and a mess to clean. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t anticipating their next meetup, already wonderin’ at the things Hondo had in store.

For now, he would relax, tempted to make his droid bring him a towel. It would be a while before the pirate calmed down, but he always came around—such was his curse for loving the moonish Duros.

Though Bane had to admit, Ohnaka had been right from the start—he had enjoyed that. Maybe he would comm call him a bit more often.

“Serves him right fer askin’,” Bane snickered.

---

Here is the translation for what Hondo says to Bane! ;D (credit to @allsystemsblue again!)

At least I don’t have a big fat head! = Mes ni’at lest haas echt!

Only one a Mother could love! = Mod’ar ir Atta le’etvest.

So big to fit your ego! = Du bi’bam vat eshat’nec!

You big blue headed, prick! = Vat lest rey echt, yetsut!

Here I am worrying and praying for your safe return! = Mes vestet vu ichm’al vat al duroc!

And for what?! = Et’suun?!

To piss me off? = Hal iat mort?

20 notes · View notes