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's about to sardonically ask the chair or my head when Ba'al cuts off what would have been a perfectly good annoying witticism. He shuts his mouth again, a little peeved in spite of himself that he didn't get to say it out loud.

"Can't be both?" he asks. "Scouting for a deal?"

He sits up, slow, enough that Hadad can know he's not going for a weapon. Actually, speaking of... he uses his movement to try and test, see how many of his subtle weapons Hadad might have found. He does have a few knives and a couple of poisoned needles, lockpicks, multitools, etcetera secreted around his person, but he's not stupid enough to go patting himself down looking for them.

"Also," he says, "does it really not matter to your boss? Which, I mean."

[baals]

"I suppose it can," he says with a shrug. It's trivial at this point. He cares slightly. Sinjir is interesting enough to win his time.

He pushes off the desk with another shrug at the question. He drifts behind the desk to look at a pad there. "What matters to him is your usefulness. It hardly matters to him or myself, whom you may represent. Anyone can be a threat under the right circumstances."

As for concealed weapons, most were removed aside from a couple. They could have been missed but they're the most obvious compared to the ones removed.

[drunk_ish]

"Ooh," says Sinjir, abandoning subtlety as he shifts his body around, checks at the small of his back, in his boot. "Quite a zealous frisk. Did you do it yourself? Make sure you got a good chance to check out all the assets?" with his eyebrows risen.

He settles back, crossing a leg, to all appearances quite comfortable.

"Now, let's rewind a bit," he says, falling into a rhythm. "I'm sure you'd like me to think that healing my injuries sets the scales even. But, given that I acquired those injuries sticking my neck out for you -- which I absolutely did not have to do -- I think you and I both know that's not quite fair, is it?" A smirk. "You just wanted to make it seem like I was coming to you for a favor. You wanted the power in this room. Don't be greedy; you've already got most of my weapons and tools, and lots of armed guards. You can cede a little social power, mm?"

[baals]

"If you're asking if viewed your genitals and was over-come with lust at their beauty?" he asks in a disinterested deadpan before looking back at Sinjir. "I did consider taking your clothes as well."

At Sinjir's words, he gives him an amused look like he's watching some captive animal attempting to chew through its bars.

He sits and folds his arms over the desk. "Well then, if you want nothing: Leave. Your belongings will be returned on your way out." His expression darkens into something unreadable as he adds, "Oh, and of course, I ask that you never return, unless you fancy a night of unending pain as I pry every last shed of information out of your mind."

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir actually laughs at this. Oh, he believes it; he's just glad to be on familiar territory. He finds the threat delightful.

"Let's talk about what your boss wants," he says. "Let's talk about your boss's territory. Large, but not enough to withstand a widescale attack by an organized military force. You're vulnerable to the Empire and the New Republic, unless they remain in balance with one another. Focused elsewhere, as it were." He tilts his head. "Meanwhile, both the Empire and the New Republic are uncomfortable, because if you did decide to mobilize a military force of your own, they would both be vulnerable along their flanks. You could change the balance of power. And playing the game is the only way you stay sovereign."

[baals]

"You are correct so far, as depressing as that is to admit." Even if he does have a few dozen plans in the works to change that. They're a long way off and no certainty.

"What remains of the so called Empire is the more... unpredictable of the two. More likely to cause us trouble and attempt to take what forces we have. Perhaps they would even be foolish enough to use us to attack the New Republic." All said to see if there is any flicker of Imperial loyalty hidden under Sinjir's skin. It's an obvious jab but how he reacts is more important than what he says.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir's eyes glitter, but not in reaction to Ba'al's words. In reaction to the way Ba'al watches him. It's like he's been playing sabaac with children, and suddenly he's in holochess with a master. Matching wits is giving him a thrill he did not expect.

"They both have benefits and drawbacks." He meets Ba'al's eyes. "The Empire is in a struggle for power, but if there is a winner -- if -- then it will provide stability and organization. In addition, Imperial officials are ordinarily bastards of some kind or another, and susceptible to bribes. Just look at Jabba's long relationship with the Empire."

He wonders, suddenly, if he's actually talking to an underling. Something about the sharpness of Ba'al's gaze...

"The New Republic, on the other hand," he continues, "embraces democracy, which is instability as a way of life. They'll have much more trouble policing their borders. But they do have pesky feelings on morality, don't they?" A shrug. "But I think you know one of the two is more likely to keep their word than the other."

The Empire betrays as soon as it's pragmatic. It's simply the way it works.

"So I suppose it depends which you fear more," he says, intentionally phrasing it so that it might provoke. "Becoming another's servant... or being exposed to the galaxy's idea of justice."

[baals]

Very interesting. None of the reactions he expected which makes this all the more dangerous. And raises his opinion of Sinjir.

"Morality and instability can be a benefit," he comments. Knowing the morals of others is endlessly useful.

Then a smirk creeps across his face. The wording seems designed to catch or provoke him. He toys with the phrasing in his mind then decides on his answer. He leans forward, locking eye contact. "Ba'al is no servant. Are you?"

[drunk_ish]

He spreads his hands, a wide shrug. "Always," he says. Apparently he just can't stop giving his loyalty and allegiance to institutions. It's really starting to be a problem. "Efficient. Loyal." The word has a slight ironic emphasis; a loyalty officer, a defector, a traitor. But there's something true in the core of his heart, some sliver of morality that wasn't drained and sliced out of him, that guides him now. He is trying.

He's fairly confident, now. It would be like this political maneuverer, to hide in plain sight.

"And so you, Ba'al -- I'm sorry, should I keep calling you Hadad?" An innocent tone to his voice. "And so you know your inevitable choice. So do I." The New Republic -- it's the one to back. Sinjir knows this, from a pragmatic standpoint. The Empire simply does not have its shit together.

[baals]

Sinjir's answer actually puts him more at ease. Someone who freely embraces servitude, in his experience, are more reliable.

Ba'al positively beams at being correctly identified. He started to suspect he knew, it's almost a relief. "You are fortunate I like you," he says. "Call me what you like. They are both my name."

"Would I be correct to assume you're a former Imperial Officer whom now works for the New Republic or is that what you hope I will believe?" Just a small concession at the end, that he thinks Sinjir is capable of fooling him.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir finds he's rather keen on being praised, himself. Feels good to play this kind of game on behalf of something he doesn't hate.

He just smiles. "I'm authorized to propose mutual non-aggression," he says. "The New Republic's sole condition is that the worlds that you claim have some way of choosing, publicly, whether they join the Republic or not."

This was Sinjir's idea -- this condition. Several people strenuously argued against fracturing the Republic, or some other such nonsense. Others made noises about conspiring with criminals.

"So here's hoping you don't rig the decision-making process," he continues. "I wonder -- will you let pride win out, and give it an honest go? Do you want the people there to choose you?"

[baals]

He appears to consider it, as if the decision has weight. It does, just not in the obvious way. He would allow these worlds to honestly choose and he would be fine with them choosing the New Republic. It merely changes his role slightly. Earth has already shown him he'll does well in 'free worlds' and gaining power in different ways. What really brings weight to it is Sinjir himself. He's not sure what he wants to do about that.

"I accept," he says finally. He stands up and looks directly at Sinjir. "I prefer to be truly wanted in all things." he smirks and adds, "If I didn't, I would have taken your clothes along with all your weapons."

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir blinks.

"Just like that?" he asks. "Don't want me to jump through hoops? Provide guarantees? Connect you to a holoconference with Princess Organa?"

Because there are more things he could do. Mostly, those things are practically irrelevant and don't mean anything, but he could do them.

"Though," he admits, additionally, "taking my clothes wouldn't have necessarily meant I didn't want -- things."

Things. Unspecific things.

[baals]

"Provided your story checks out and I am presented with a written agreement. The only guarantees I require is that I may retain some property and resources. Nothing too extreme. It would be nice to have somewhere to live should all my worlds choose the New Republic." He waves a hand, almost dismissively.

"Things." Ba'al echos back in amusement. "Then lets not be coy. I would be delighted to hold you down and send you to the very edge of pain and pleasure until you beg. Perhaps even after you start begging. You would look lovely shivering with need. It's something I can make last hours with ease. One must be truly willing. It's not a quick fuck over a desk."

[drunk_ish]

Everything in Sinjir goes boiling hot in an instant. And that's while he's expecting it. Imagine if Ba'al had sprung this on him cold -- he probably would have combusted. Oh, he is in so much trouble.

He swallows. Takes a couple tries to clear his throat. "Am I prostituting myself for the New Republic?" he asks. "Not that I'm categorically opposed to that set of circumstances, but I would appreciate the clarity."

Sinjir didn't often do submission, as a general rule. And when he did, it was usually to fulfill someone else's desires -- like a particular officer who really wanted someone younger-looking to spank over his knee. Sinjir actually got a little into that. Focus, he admonishes himself. -- The simple fact was that a loyalty officer could not trust themselves to be helpless with anyone. It was too dangerous.

Paranoia runs deep, but he's not in that role anymore. He's a free agent. And this sounds shockingly appealing.

[baals]

Ba'al is perhaps a little too satisfied with that reaction. "It certainly wouldn't hurt matters. As you already have my agreement, consider it more of an optional bonus."

[drunk_ish]

Okay, this is good. This is fine. He's going to uncross his legs because his cock is starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He leans forward.

"Ground rules," he says. "I'm not your pet, or your child, or your droid, so please no explicit invocation of that. No infliction of any damage that would require a bacta tank -- or a bacta tank's equivalent," because he realizes abruptly that there are other ways to heal damage in this galaxy, and that gives an obvious and terrible loophole, "to repair, individually or on the aggregate. If you're tying me up for more than ten minutes at a stretch, I need an easy way out of it, and definitely no gagging or blindfolding while I don't have an easy way out."

He is direct and firm about this. Panic is the emotion least conducive to good sex.

"Safe word is bacta," he says. "Invocation of the safe word at any given time will not have consequences against the New Republic." -- just to assuage a little of his guilty conscience. He doesn't want to be the reason this fails. "And I don't really like messing about with feet. Never got the appeal." A beat. "And no women," he adds. "Nothing against them. Just not even a little interested."

[baals]

Ba'al almost wants to ask if Sinjir was ever referred to as a droid, since he bought it up. He'll content himself with picturing some Imperial Officer calling him a sex-droid and immediately regretting it. In fact, he can't help but think of the situations that led Sinjir to discover his preferences.

They're very Goa'uld like conditions. Almost comforting, in their own way.

"Of course, I ask the same, should I decide to end things prematurely. And I will end things the moment I sense even the slightest threat on my life or other such unfavorable conditions. Second, I expect honesty should I ask after your condition. Do not tell me what you believe I wish to hear."

"Ah, and know that anything I do to you, I've experienced myself. I know how it should feel, hence the importance of honesty."

All his important points made, he clasps his hands behind his back. "We may start whenever you desire. You may also inspect and choose any location within this building - barring public spaces. Take whatever time you need." The room they are currently in connects to a hallway and a series of private rooms. Used as apartment and work-spaces for Ba'al and a few trusted underlings. There is a concealed room, that houses Ba'al's Goa'uld tech and other artifacts. It is something Sinjir could locate the door to but not open. On the off chance he does find it, Ba'al has already decided he would open it if Sinjir asks. He is the slightest bit curious to see his reaction.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir holds up a hand. "One more thing." And he doesn't really want to talk about this, but it's relevant, and potentially necessary. His responses change because of it. "I wasn't just an Imperial officer. I was an Imperial loyalty officer. Do you know what that means?"

[baals]

"It means you are nearly my equal in discovering the truth. I imagine you're quite good at breaking bones and delivering maximum of pain with a minimal of effort. I'm sure your service record is exceptional, judging by the amount of dubious alcohol you consume," he says matter of fact. It's bizarrely said almost affectionately. "I suspected you were once a loyalty officer or something similar. There was no true fear hidden behind your laughter."

He shrugs. "It makes you worth my time, regardless to whom you may serve."

[drunk_ish]

That could be a warning sign. Sinjir wears his trauma on his sleeve, these days, and people who like that are probably predators looking for weakness. -- Still, that being said, Sinjir's pretty sure he's already so in pain along those fault lines in his psyche that exploitation would be a difficult prospect.

He moves to his feet.

"Then let's start. I don't need to take a look around," he says. This is stupid, daring and reckless, and it feels good. "Go ahead and put me where you want me."

[baals]

That wasn't quite the response he expected but neither is it a bad one. After a second he motions for him to come stand near him. Ba'al gives a momentary glance down as if he's tempted to tear Sinjir's clothes off right there. His gaze returns to his face. "Tell me something, are you good at holding still for long periods of time? I'd like you to avoid touching yourself as much as possible. Consider that my job. If you move, I stop."

He takes a casual step closer. His hands come up to start removing Sinjir's shirt. It'll become apparent he's wearing something on one of his hands, even if its concealed by a glove.

[drunk_ish]

Sinjir's pretty sure he'll have the chance to snoop at a later date.

"In fact," says Sinjir, dryly, "that is something they trained us to do quite well, at the Imperial Academy." He settles into an at-ease posture, chin lifted, discarding the scruffy-rogue attitude and settling into old military-trained posture like another skin. Of course, the decidedly not Imperial-standard beard and vague shagginess remains.

His eyes flick up to Ba'al, who has a couple of centimeters of height on Sinjir. "I assume you'd still like my witticisms."

[baals]

"They're part of your charm," Ba'al assures him jokingly.

He allows gravity to do most of the work when it comes to undressing Sinjir. He keeps it at a lazy pace, taking his time to brush his skin. Naturally, he takes a moment to grope and properly feel up his dick. He makes a little sound of approval before letting go.

He holds his hands up where Sinjir can see them when he takes off his gloves. A close fitting kara-kesh resembles jewelry more than weaponry. "This is a weapon. Offensive, for the most part. Designed more for pain than fatality." He holds his hand palm up then causes it to glow. "Extend your hand over it. You should know how it feels before I use it on you."

It causes a burning, tingling sensation. Much like the feeling of a blaster bolt just missing your skin. Needless to say, it wakes up every nerve ending it nears. He makes no sudden moves with the device. He's intently watching Sinjir, waiting to see if it's beyond his comfort limits.

[drunk_ish]

Oh. Long runs of goosebumps spread under Ba'al's fingers. Sinjir's skin is responsive, starved for gentle touch. And Sinjir himself, though his response is more subtle: a change the way he breathes, longer and deeper. His eyes closing when Ba'al's fingertips glide down his skin in the right way.

Except for at his dick. There, he makes a little startled sound, and twitches, not expecting Ba'al to be so direct about it. It speeds up the process of getting an erection by quite a bit; he can feel himself swelling under Ba'al's hand.

His own hands unclasp from his back, and he reaches one out, palm down, perhaps twenty centimeters away. Nothing on his face but curiosity, and he lowers his hand slow, testing the sensation, noting the exponential increase of pain to distance. Winces, a little, a soft hiss; he's never seen anything quite like this before. He gives his hand a cursory look. No visible damage.

"Any nerve damage?" he asks.