for drunk_ish

[baals]

It wasn't easy to establish himself in an entirely different galaxy. He spent years simply learning of the worlds, factions, languages and cultures. It was dull work but important if he was to be successful. This galaxy was already at war when he found himself marooned here. War breeds opportunity.

Near the war's end, he took his opportunity. He started out in the distant planets, furthest from the New Republic's reach. The planet he chose to make his home still had some Empire holdouts clinging desperately to power. They were quickly dealt with with an added bonus of gaining the praise and trust of this little world. In turn, he urged them to govern themselves but he would gladly solve disputes and offer advice. On the surface, his new little world ran itself. Under the surface he controlled everything else. Call it the cleanest criminal empire.

He receded from view, becoming more of a story. It's oh so easy to construct a Godly persona after all. He began posing as he own right hand man. 'Ba'al' was rarely seen and often cloaked. Meanwhile, Mister Haddad saw to running things.

Today, Mister Haddad is over-seeing the running of one of the higher class bars. He's there because of reports of a rival crime faction attempting to horn in. Sending their men in to cause disturbances and damage.

He mingles with the patrons, subtly keeping watch. Keeping an air of important but not too important about himself.

If they try something today, he's ready to sent a message.

Comments

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir is high, drunk on Ba'al's pleasure. Feels almost as good as another climax himself, the rush of heat inside him, as he takes it, takes all of it. He is marked, he thinks, dizzily; Ba'al has marked him, in some more-than-physical way.

He's still so, so hard when Ba'al touches the device, and he twitches up, gasping sharp. He's nonverbal, stretched out so far he could snap, every muscle in his body wrung out halfway to exhaustion. He's trembling; he half-curls, whimpering as Ba'al draws back the rod, sinks it back in, draws it out. It glides free wet, leaving a long string of semen that breaks, dripping back onto Sinjir's cock, his belly. He shudders, settling back down, breathing sharp.

"I need," he tries, and he shifts up, reaching out to Ba'al. Hooks his fingers around Ba'al's neck and kisses him, shaky but slow and wet and deep. "I need," he breathes, "I don't know," uncertain, cutting himself off with another desperate, aching kiss. If he was trying, he could resist torture forever, but here, he's let himself be broken. He shouldn't have, but he did.

[baals]

The kiss was a little unexpected, if only because he expected Sinjir to be too out of it to initiate anything. Ba'al's content to let Sinjir lead the kiss. After all being too forceful in return could accidentally break Sinjir in the wrong ways. He's not a hundred percent certain where his most fragile pieces are.

"Hm, well, do tell me when you think of it," Ba'al says between kisses. As tempting as it is to keep going right there, he does pull away after a minute. "You need to be cleaned up. There's a bath chamber. Get up or I'll carry you. I don't care which."
The attached bath chamber is mostly tub but it has everything of a proper bathroom. And yes, he would pick up Sinjir, throw him over his shoulder then dump him in the tub.

[drunk_ish]

"No," he mumbles, not really objecting to the bath in particular, but the idea of movement or effort in general. He pulls Ba'al back down, and just lingers in the kiss, just breathes with it. Slow goosebumps rising on his skin, sweat starting to dry and chill.

[baals]

Ba'al puts on a sigh, like this is truly the most taxing thing ever to be asked of him. "You will need to clean up eventually," he points out but lays back down all the same. He has no aversion to cuddling though it does contrast with his whole terrifying crime lord persona. Regardless, he sinks back into kissing and eventually moves his mouth to Sinjir's neck.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir still hungers, but it's in a different way, marrow-deep, skin-stripped, raw. He half wishes that Ba'al would leave him used and dripping, just whisper filthy things to him and leave him broken. Half-wishes, too, that Ba'al would keep on like this, slow touches, fingertips skimming along the skin as Sinjir hums in soft pleasure. Imagines sinking down on Ba'al in the bath, curling half-asleep and fuzzy as Ba'al's hands take care of him. He breathes soft sounds, and touches back, lazy and blind and hungry at the same time, reading Ba'al's jaw line and collarbone and the curve of his shoulder through Sinjir's fingertips.

[baals]

If Ba'al felt more secure about Sinjir, he would be fine with relaxing further and even falling asleep tangled up with him. He just can't shut off the part of him that is certain of betrayal. But he can pretend for a time.

Eventually, he pulls away. "Stay there if you like, I will return shortly." He heads off to the adjoined bath area. He'll clean himself up, take a minute to rethink his choices. Was that enjoyable, yes. Was it dangerous, yes. He just hopes he won't have to permanently kill Sinjir. Such a waste.

Unless Sinjir happened to follow him, he returns with a wet cloth.

[drunk_ish]

Nope. Sinjir is half-dead, and he'll be that way for a little while longer. With a supreme effort of will, he could probably get up off the bed. But there's no reason to, and he actually feels sort of obscurely safe, despite the fact that Ba'al could have him killed.

Ba'al won't have him killed.

Probably.

TIME SKIP THING

[baals]

Ba'al did not have him killed. Nor did he kill him himself. If he did kill him, he would have brought him back... but that's a little too much information for Sinjir to have.

It's better if no one is aware of his sarcophagus.

It's better if he's considered a somewhat exotic alien with technology on par with the fallen Empire and virgin New Republic. And at best considered 'force sensitive.'

Regardless, Sinjir is allowed to leave. Ba'al is confidant he will know very quickly if Sinjir decides to betray him.

Should Sinjir return, he'll be allowed passage into the living quarters if he tries to get back there. With the exception of areas containing goa'uld technology.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir does come back. The first time, he sort of sidles in, embarrassed, unsure of his welcome. If he'd just needed this a little less, he'd've come in much more cocksure, but the sheer depths to which he wants Ba'al to hurt him -- it just has him really off-balance. Being turned away would be beyond humiliating.

Which is why he decides to play up the bravado, a bit, when Ba'al enters.

"Got you something," says Sinjir, and he tosses, at Ba'al, a tight bundle of chain. It's cuffs -- four sets, actually, for throat, wrists, ankles, and cock, with a variable length of chain. Anything can be attached or detached from anywhere along the length of it, and it locks by activation of a magnetic key. Too strong for a human to pull apart.

And, because it's made for exactly this type of play: it will come undone on verbal invocation of a programmed safeword. But, bar that, it would take rather a bit of effort for Sinjir to get out of those.

In addition: they're gold (all the better to match against Sinjir's skin tone), subtly jeweled (decoration, without being overly gaudy, because he has this feeling that Ba'al likes things being decorated), and the edges are all blunted, with a bit of careful padding worked in. Not enough to make the cuffs completely comfortable to wear, but enough that there wouldn't be any real damage.

He picked these out quite carefully, and he had to dodge Temmin for like three hours while he did it, so he really hopes Ba'al appreciates the effort.

[baals]

With surprisingly fast reflexes, Ba'al catches the bundle. He looks at it skeptically for a moment. "I presume, this is intended for you to wear and not myself," he says in a sort-of joke. He watches Sinjir for a reaction before inspecting the chains further.

He tries to put on the look of mild interest to cover the more intense calculation over it. What it is, the craftsmanship, the ornamentation and just why is Sinjir giving it to him. Well, aside from his ego. If it's something he'll like, there must obviously be some sort of catch to it.

"You expect something in return," he states. "This is too... exquisite to be a mere gift. Unless you have found yourself in sudden possession of wealth."

[drunk_ish]

"Well, if you'd like to wear it..."

That's not what Sinjir came here for, but he'd be lying if he said he'd turn it down. He gives Ba'al a cocky, flirty grin.

"We-ell," he says, "I track down a lot of people, in my day job. And sometimes they have a lot of credits. And sometimes all of those credits don't get reported." This is true; however, all of those unreported credits have gone to Jas.

Sinjir has nothing to spend his money on, though. He gets food and shelter and, often, alcohol. Weapons. What does he want with fripperies?

Except this frippery is pretty nice.

[baals]

"While it is temping, it would require an amount of trust I've yet to find anyone worthy to give," Ba'al says in a dismissive tone. He just doesn't trust anyone to hold that sort of control over him. Not right now, anyway.

Ba'al eyes him skeptically as he explains where the money comes from. "That doesn't explain what you expect in return," he presses. While he would just like to hear Sinjir say it - he's not a hundred percent convinced this is a recreational visit. Sinjir is too cunning to take at face value.

[drunk_ish]

"I have steep requirements," shrugs Sinjir, "and you and I have mutual desires. Seemed the thing to do."

He leans back against the bedpost.

"Of course, you don't have to use it." It would rankle to offer something like this and be rejected, but Sinjir's pride is pretty flexible and used to being punctured. He'll get over it.

[baals]

"Of course, I don't have to. Yet you hope I want to." And he does. He just hasn't decided if he wants to use it now or later. "I appreciate the gift," he says, finally.

"I am pleased to see you again though I am somewhat suspicious, as you can tell." Ba'al opts for honesty, a show of respect to Sinjir's abilities. "I doubt there will be a time when I am not suspicious. So, let us focus on what you would like from this visit? "

[drunk_ish]

Ugh. Stating things. Stating things that he wants. Sinjir doesn't like that at all.

"Isn't it obvious?" He'd sort of wished it was. He straightens up, lifts his chin, trying very hard to keep his body language from curling quiet and defensive and protective in on itself. He takes a breath. "I'd like to be ruined. Please and thank you."