Many thanks to Carmen and Runt for encouragement and beta-ing!
The man and woman were writhing right at the verge of orgasm. Wes couldn't remember enjoying a woman so much. Normally, women complained that he made them sore, and was too demanding. Miila never complained. In fact, she would wear him out, but pride in his personal reputation prevented him from admitting this, and he found himself fucking, fingering, and tonguing her for hours. He had sex with her every chance he could. Well, every chance when he was with her, anyway.
He pulled out of her warm, slippery vagina and pushed her head onto his reddened, stiff penis, guiding her lips over himself. Resistant at first, she slowly found a rhythm, using her tongue at the crucial juncture right under the ridge, coaxing him to the very edge. Wes reached down and pulled her around so her body was now upside down. Her lips had not come dislodged from around his member, just the way he'd taught her to do it. He loved the spinning sensation, reveling in it even as he buried his tongue into her moist slit, holding her tightly around her slim waist. He sucked hard and felt her yelps around his genitalia, rewarding her oral efforts ...
Panting from their powerful orgasms, Wes drifted into a dreamless sleep. When he woke up, she was gone. He worried that she had been offended about being forced to administer a blowjob. Miila didn't like it, but she did it to please him. But no, she'd scribbled a note on a piece of flimsi, explaining she had to go to work. Could he do her a huge favor and compress all the garbage for pickup? He blinked and looked out the window. He was surprised to see it was dark out; even though it was always dark on this level of Coruscant, night time had a particular inky quality to it.
Wes ran himself through the refresher, and immediately felt better. His muscles were still sore, and his knees protested when he squat down to pick up the towel from where he had dropped it. He'd normally leave it there, but this was her place, after all. And Miila had scolded him many times before about his slovenly habits. Well, he would prove her wrong.
First, he understood that garbage collection was a big deal on Coruscant, where garbage disposal was a serious issue. The planet was a huge city, covering many layers atop each other over the surface. Residents had to pay hefty fees to have their refuse carted away. If they forgot to process and leave out their rubbish for pick-up, they had to keep it within their homes till the next scheduled pickup, which could be months or even a year away.
While Wes picked up the various stored garbage parcels, he idly admired Miila's sexual energy. He had no idea how she could have the energy to go out and work after the marathon sex they'd had. Wes started tidying up her apartment and remembered how he'd met her, at the tapcaf where she worked. She had brushed him back, telling him she was seeing someone seriously. He persisted, nailing her in the tapcaf refresher when he returned the next day. They became lovers, and he was directly responsible for Miila dumping her regular boyfriend, less than a month later.
Wes spent a lot of his spare time at her place, especially since he shared a unit at the base with Hobbie when he was in Coruscant. This way, Hobbie had the place to himself for trysts and such. The crowded city was expensive to live in, considering how little time they really spent here. Wes did pitch in for rent for Miila, since dumping her boyfriend meant she couldn't afford her living costs on her own. Still, he didn't want to move in on a couple basis. He simply wasn't ready for that. Anyway, why buy the loaf, when you could get free slices?
In fact, he wasn't ready for a lot of things. After a risk-taking youth, he decided to take advantage of the military's birth control programs. He got irradiation therapies annually that crippled his sperm, preventing them from fully forming, thereby unable to impregnate an ovum. Many men didn't like getting this treatment, fearful that it would affect their virility, but Wes was simply pragmatic about it. He didn't need the responsibility of an unwanted child, and he certainly didn't want to be 'trapped' by any woman looking for a husband! If he used a simple prophylactic, there might always be the doubt as to whether he really did father a particular woman's child, even after genetic testing might prove otherwise. So he submitted to the treatments and kept his conscience clear.
Good thing, too, Wes chuckled to himself. He'd been screwing a number of women this past week. Rogue Squadron had just returned from a risky -- as usual -- mission and he had treated himself to a celebration. He had misinformed his girlfriend of his return time and had misspent his free time in the company of several hookers, and two or three girls he'd picked up around the base. One of those women, Nussa, had never cheated on her husband before, and Wes was only the second man she'd had sex with. She would ride him in the female superior position so he could fondle her plump breasts, then lifted her body off him. Like a sexually attractive beetle, she rolled onto all fours to present her perfectly round ass to Wes. Without speaking a word, he would mount her from behind, pressing hard against her until his body was slapping loudly against her chubby thighs. He could grip her hips and maneuver in and out until she had achieved several screaming orgasms. While her muscles contracted around Wes's dick, he could push deep into her and empty his semen into her. This is so much better than a prophylactic ... it feels so good, yet there is no way these jism pulses are planting any seed into that womb! It was the strongest orgasm he had felt in a long while, and he wanted to stay in her warm vagina forever. As he cradled her under his prostate form, he knew it was worth those birth control shots.
But he finally noticed the time and remembered he had promised his girlfriend that he'd meet her that evening for dinner at Dex's Diner. He was running down the street when he realized he'd forgotten to get Nussa's comlink code. Without it, it was impossible to find her again. Well, plenty of more women wanting some excitement in their dull everyday lives.
Because of the number of partners he'd had in such a short time, in addition to that great final session with Nussa, he had to let Miila do all the work when they made love that evening. He explained he was tired from the long trip back, telling her a swashbuckling tale of harrowing adventure through hyperspace. Like most beings in the galaxy, Miila had never been off planet, and only knew of hyperspace from the holonews and holomovies she'd seen. Wes made the jump sound so exciting!
He made it up to her the next day, which Miila had taken off from her waitressing job. Wes had woken up and rolled right on top of her immediately, treating her to a "good morning" orgasm. He figured if he got in quickly, he'd stand a better chance of surviving Miila's sexual onslaught. He was wrong, but it made him happy anyway.
The comlink chirruped and brought him back to the present. He was annoyed to have to stop masturbating. He wasn't yet near his peak, but it was feeling good, and he hated to halt. The comlink signal wouldn't cease though, so he sighed and picked it up.
"Wessie! Did I wake you?" Miila's voice came through, along with the background noise normal to most tapcafs, "Sorry, sweetie, but just wanted you to know I'm REALLY sore and it's all your fault!"
Wes laughed, "Oh right ... I suppose you were completely uninvolved and faking it when you were screaming, 'Yeah, right there, put it right there-'"
"Shut up!" her voice laughed along, "You know I love it!"
He couldn't suppress a grin, "And more where that came from, sweetcheeks. Can't wait to hammer that hole while I trashtalk you-"
"Oh, Wes! Thank for reminding me! The trash! I forgot all about the trash!" Her voice was urgent.
"Don't worry, you left me a note," Wes cupped his testicles, frustrated at being interrupted with com-sex on his mind, "I'm nearly done picking it up. I'll run it through the compactor and it'll be ready in an hour or so." I love my penis, the thought passed through Wes's consciousness, I love being a guy and having a cock to stroke!
"No, Wes! I mean, it has to go out now! You'll need to put it all in and get it out, including the stored stuff. I'm so sorry to have to ask you this, but I can't afford the weekly pickups. I'm down to quarterly, and if you don't get it out, we have to live with the stored wastes for another month! And they don't refund! Please, Wes," he grudgingly understood her pleading, "I'll make it up to you, I swear!"
He let out a deep-throated, heavily accented chuckle, "My darling ... you most certainly will! Okay, I'll do it, let me go, talk to you later. Think of later!" Before she could go into an extended thank you, he cut the connection and sprinted to get the pickup container ready.
He methodically picked up and compressed the trash in each of the rooms in the small apartment, finishing at the refresher. Wes thought he could eke out another 15 minutes if he ran the container to the next pickup station; if so, he'd have enough time to do a good job. But he needed to rush this part so the compressor could do it's job reducing the volume of trash down to 1/50th of it's original size.
With relief at nearly being done, he toted the waste receptacle from the refresher, but stubbed his bare toe on the door jamb and violently dropped the container. He was hopping about, cursing from the pain, the time lost, and having to pick up all the unraveling garbage. All he could do was crawl around the floor, his toe throbbing, and grab and shove the trash back into the bin.
What's this? Something felt cold and plasticky, yet flexible. He groaned, I do NOT want to sort out this stuff, this is not part of the deal! There were strict rules concerning the mixing of organic and inorganic waste. But he knew he should make sure, so he looked.
And he dropped the wastebin a second time.
The time to bring down the garbage came and went, but he didn't notice it. For on the floor was a prophylactic.
A USED prophylactic!
Wes howled and ran off to wash his hands thoroughly. He had been hauling and emptying all manner of garbage, but he could not deal with touching a used prophylactic filled with another man's semi-dried semen. That bitch! She's been fucking around on me! I NEVER use those things! He actually trembled as he scrubbed. As an afterthought, and for good measure, he scrubbed his penis, too. And those THINGS wern't already compressed, so that guy was here like ... like ... YESTERDAY! He felt so unclean!
His anger boiled and he sought revenge. I'll kill her, and that bastard, too! He knew he couldn't get away with killing his girlfriend (EX-grlfriend! he seethed) or her lover, but he wanted vengeance. In his mad state, all he could think of was murder ... and rape ... It was not healthy.
The garbage was now forgotten. He knew he had to get away from that lying bitch! and he packed up everything he'd brought into the relationship that he could carry away. He left the used prophylactics where they'd fallen and simply left. Let her figure it out herself.
He walked all the way back to base. Wes was simply too enraged to hail an air taxi, and was just moving blindly, by instinct. The whole way, there was a hole in him, as if Miila had punched him and suprised him. It was called a sucker punch, and he hated when it happened to him. Other beings he'd encountered gave him a wide berth as he muttered to himself, punctuating the stream of obscenities with a loud Hah! as he savored a particularly lurid revenge fantasy scenario.
By the time he got back, he still didn't feel any better. He let himself into the housing unit he shared with Hobbie Klivian and threw his things down with a loud bang. His roommate opened his door, holding a sheet around his nether regions and hollered, "What the hell is that about? I have someone here, do you mind???"
Wes sat down hard on the second-hand sofa and held his head in his hands, not bothering to answer. Recognizing the symptoms of a major trauma, Hobbie retreated, closing his door. Moments later, a scantily clad woman was being shoved out the door, with Hobbie telling her he'd contact her again soon. As she left, Wes realized he knew the ginger-haired woman, But at least she's a hooker. It's her job to fuck as many pilots as she can!
Hobbie stood in front of Wes and grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upwards to a standing position, "This had better be good. Talk!"
Wes shoved Hobbie's fists off his clothing, and growled out, "The bitch is cheating on me."
Hobbie put his hands akimbo, "You ... you interrupted me for THAT?!?" His anger started rising, "So the hell what? You're not exactly infected with fidelity yourself, you asshole!" He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, intent on calling the prostitute back. He stopped when something smacked him in the back of the head.
Spinning around, he dove at his best friend, catching him around the gut, knocking him back into the sofa. Bent as he was, Wes could only pound Hobbie's back till he could work himself down to shove his attacker bodily off of him.
The two men started flailing at one another, their bodies making sickening thudding sounds when their fists made good contact. As the pounding progressed, they yelled expletives and the sound of gasps and groans punctuated the battle. Angered, Wes actually hauled Hobbie upwards and tossed him bodily toward the front door. Hobbie's body made contact with the door trigger and it opened, so that half his body ended up in the corridor. He rolled quickly to the side as Wes made a screaming run at him; missing, he skidded across the hallway and banged up against the opposite wall.
By then, Hobbie had gotten up and jumped Wes. The two men rolled over and over down the corridor, smacking and punching one another at such close range that their faces were bleeding and swollen. Fortunately, they couldn't get a lot of leverage in the scuffling so didn't do too much damage. Nonetheless, the gathering crowd cheered with every new spurt of blood and bet each other on the nature of certain bruises.
But before they knew it, they were scattered by the MPs, who pulled the men up, still swinging and cursing. They tried throttling one another in the little holding cell, and the guards threatened to tie them up. Eventually, they were separated, but they didn't have to stay too long; fortunately, their commanding officer had come to get them and they found themselves dumped onto hard seats in an interrogation room.
Wedge Antilles signed the forms, releasing Hobbie and Wes to him. He assured the MPs he would not need their assistance. The guards saluted and took the datapads bearing Wedge's assurance of responsibility for the prisoners. Wedge glared at the two men, daring them to make so much as a sound. "Talk." He pointed at Hobbie.
"This jerk interrupts me when I'm with a nice lady. He deserved it." Hobbie's air was that of a man who had been severely wronged.
"You asshole! I needed a friend to talk to and you brushed my pain aside for the sake of your dick!" Wes was fuming again.
"Dick? You're calling ME a dick! You're a dickhead! You are SUCH a dickhead that you have three chromosome types, X, Y and dickhead!" Hobbie was spitting in his rage, "Your damned dickhead gene is getting ME into trouble, dickhead!"
Wes would have launched out at Hobbie but Wedge grabbed the flying fist in mid-air. Hobbie whistled, "That's better than a Jedi mindtrick, Wedge!" The commander slapped Hobbie.
"Shut up, both of you! You play nice, or I call the MPs again, and you can suffer through the 'normal' procedures. By the way, you're BOTH dickheads!" Wedge hadn't raised his voice, but the two men got the point. They sat silently, if sullenly.
Wedge sat down, facing them and rubbed his hands over his face and over his hair. "This was a bad time. I was with a lady friend too, you jerks. Okay, Hobbie, you first, and no picking on Wes." Wes put on his hurt look, to which Wedge glowered at him.
"The gentleman to my right," Hobbie was determined not to get into more trouble, "interrupted a pleasurable moment with a lady of the night, whom I was enjoying greatly. I took offense and tried to make it up to her and he threw a rock at me! Can you believe it, he sucker-threw something at me, can you believe it?? Not even brave enough to sucker punch me, so I kicked his inky-dinky posterior!"
"It was NOT a rock--" Wes started by was cut down by his commanding officer's glare.
"Anything else, Hobbie?" Wedge wanted to make sure he got the full story, without interruption. Hobbie nodded, then looked over benignly at Wes, knowing it was his turn.
"Okay, your turn Wes, and no references to Hobbie that are not factual. From MY point of view." As an afterthought, Wedge added, "And keep it clean."
Wes took a long breath, "He was insensitive. I had suffered emotional trauma. I needed comfort and solace, but not with a woman."
Wedge's eyebrows shot up. Did he want to hear this?
Wes looked innocent, "For it was a woman who caused it, Commander! She had broken my heart! She was untrue to me!"
Wedge's eyebrows crept higher toward his hairline. He couldn't resist, "I thought you only imbibed with women without relationship longevity issues, Wes."
Wes looked wounded again, "See? See what I have to suffer? First from my supposed 'best friend,' and now from my boss!" He smiled merrily again when Wedge's eyebrows sunk back down to a glower. "For your information, I have been in a serious relationship for many months now. She was my girlfriend, meaning that a certain faithfulness and fidelity are expected."
Wedge was so surprised that he nearly fell off the chair, causing Hobbie to laugh out loud, "And all I said is that he's not exactly imbued with faithfulness himself! You should have seen the parade of whores entering his room, Wedge!"
Wes poked him, "They were not ALL whores, and you shared! You were fucking one of them when I got home, jerk!"
Wedge raised his hand as if to slap either of them and they squirmed like schoolboys in their seats. He swore to himself that he'd personally spank both of them someday. They were really getting on his nerves.
Hobbie spoke again, a bit contrite, "He's right, they weren't all whores. Some of them were housewives."
Wedge had had enough, "Okay, both of you, confined to base. I don't have time for this immaturity. I have a lady friend of my own to attend to, thank you very much. She was crying into the comlink, I was on my way to her place when the call from the MPs came in. I swear, they knew it was you and just com'd me en route to the holding tanks. I hate both of you."
Both men showed sudden interest, "A girl? You have a girl? Wedge, you never told us!" Both Wes and Hobbie were talking at once, wanting details about the girl. Was she a hooker? A tapcaf hookup? A friend or sister of someone they all knew?
Wedge crossed his arms in front of him, "Shut up. She's a waitress, she's a nice girl, I met her last week, yes we've fucked, leave me alone."
Wes's face took on the merry mien Wedge hated to see, "Wedge! I'm so surprised! I thought you were saving yourself for marriage!"
"Yeah, Wedge," Hobbie, in contrast, looked hurt, "You disappoint us!"
Wedge sighed. He'd never win against these guys. Why had he told them even that much? The interrogation was getting uncomfortable.
"You know, Wes," Hobbie had turned his whole body sideways to talk directly to his roommate, "I'll bet he's such a good boy, he uses prophylactics! He'd never put himself at risk like we do!"
Wes scowled, "You know he does." The mention of a prophylactic reminded him of why he was angry in the first place. He wasn't feeling merry or charitable anymore, "He's such a goody-good, he'd probably justify it as not REALLY having sex, since he has that impermeable layer in there." Hobbie was laughing so hard he fell off his chair and was lying curled up on the floor gasping for breath. "And," Wes continued, "I'll bet he's lying to us. Like the time he told us he was gay-"
"AND WE BELIEVED HIM!" Hobbie was screaming with laughter now, "You even tried to pick him up when he was undercover! You were so busted!" He stopped the giggling noise when Wes jumped on him and started punching him in the head again. It didn't last long though, because Wedge had pulled them apart.
"You guys do that again, I'll court martial both of you, understand?" Wedge was kind of hurt at their teasing, but he pushed the humiliation aside quickly. Especially since he really did need to get going. The woman he'd met the week before had called him in tears, telling him that a former boyfriend had come over and made a mess of her place. Being a caring guy, he had tried to calm her when the call came for him to retrieve these big kids out of prison. "I'm leaving. You are confined to quarters, and tomorrow, you both move into the barracks. You will be confined to base, where you can be watched, instead of in the comfort of the den of scum and debauchery your call your home. Direct order, and I WILL follow up. Dickheads!"
Wes looked hurt again, feeling a bit better than he had moment before when Hobbie had mentioned the prophylactic, "Aww, Wedge! You mean we get to bunk with those cute little freshman pilots?" Hobbie rolled his eyes and muttered, "You slut!"
Wedge rubbed his face again, a habit he'd picked up somewhere when feeling at a complete loss, but having to keep his composure. "Okay, I'm heading out to Batimnet district, I'll catch a ride with you and the MPs. They will escort you and lock you in, and come to get you in the morning. If I hear so much as a-"
"Is that where your non-hooker, non-housewife lives, Wedge?" Hobbie really wanted to know more about the woman who seemed to have had sex with his commanding officer on the first date.
Wes looked interested, "Really? My girlfriend ... uh, ex-girlfriend... that's where she lives! They probably know each other," he socked Hobbie on the arm, "Miila's not a hooker or a housewife either, jerk!" He felt an arm grab him, and he assumed it was his roommate, but it wasn't.
"What did you say your girlfriend's name is, Wes?" Wedge held him tightly.
"She's an ex! I told you, she cheated on me, I don't wan-"
"Did you say her name is Miila???" Wes couldn't understand why Wedge was squeezing his arm so hard.
"Yeah, ow, that hurts, Wedge! Unhand me, you brute!" Wes grabbed Wedge's hand to pry the fingers off his triceps. "Wedge, what's wrong, you look sick?"
Laughter filled the room as Hobbie immediately realized what was going on. "Hey, Wedge! Does your girl have dark hair, cut in a bob, kind of short, nice round ass, small tits, waits tables in a tapcaf?"
Seeing Wedge's face go red, Wes finally realized, "Yo ... Y ... You've been fucking Miila??? Holy poodoo, Wedge, you DO use prophylactics! Hell, if I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have punched Hobbie!"
Wedge just couldn't speak. He'd been sharing a woman with Wes???
"Aw, Wedge, I'm sorry. Seriously, if I had known they were yours, I wouldn't have scrubbed my dick so hard to get the dead soldiers off-" Wes stopped when Wedge went purple. Hobbie had stepped forward and was banging the commander's back, begging for him to breathe!
"Wedge!" Wes got up to help Hobbie, "She's all yours now, come back to us!"
Drawing a long breath, forcing himself to breathe before he blacked out, Wedge's thoughts were in turmoil. He had thought Miila was special, thought she might have even loved him ... Help me, she was cheating on Wes! How could he trust her now, knowing she was using Wedge to get back at his philandering wingman??
Not allowing himself to gasp, he told Wes, "No, I don't think I'll be seeing her again." He coughed as his lack of oxygen caught up to him, hacking a bit.
"Aw, Wedge, I'm sorry. Really, but she's no great loss. I mean, she doesn't even give good head, you have to force the bitch to put it in her mou-"
Wedge stopped coughing, "Really? I thought she gave great head?" He immediately bit his tongue, regretting his words.
Wes didn't even look surprised. He looked over at Hobbie, "Amateur."
Hobbie nodded vigorously in agreement, "Totally!"
Hobbie and Wes started talking simultaneously. "Hey, since you guys don't want her, can I have her comlink number?" "Wedge, you want great head? There's this housewife, her name is Nussa, I can set you up-"
It was just as well that Wedge had told the MPs to leave, or they might have arrested him for punching his junior officers in the ear. All the way back to base, Wes howled that Wedge had downed him with a cheater's punch and Hobbie acted drunk and openly wept. But Wedge actually felt a bit better for having sucker-punched them both; he knew they hated that.
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