Not Done with the Slice Hound Yet

The rain pounded relentlessly against the battered hull of the B-wing, the chaotic symphony of the storm. The faint glow of the junkyard's emergency lights slipped through the dirty glass, casting eerie shadows and highlighting the precariousness of their situation. The cockpit was small and cramped, forcing their naked bodies uncomfortably close. Ofe adjusted his position, his knee brushing Fennec’s thigh, and her body and heart jumped, her blush deepening. The warmth of his body was a sharp contrast to the chill of the rain, and she hated how her body pulled her towards his of its own acccord.

Fennec shivered, her pink pigtails damp and clinging to her shoulders. Her oversized hoop earrings swayed slightly with each tremor, glittering in the dim light. She crossed her arms over her chest and pushed her thighs over one another in a failed bid for modesty. Glancing at Ofe out of the corner of her eye and he was fidgeting about below the pilot seat.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, brow furrowing.

"Trying to keep you safe," he answered absentmindedly.

“So, gonna keep me safe, huh?” she teased, her voice wavering between conceit and genuine curiosity. “Now, how do you plan on doin’ that, big guy?”

“Well,” he began, his voice steady despite the nervous flush creeping up his neck, “In school I learned these old B-wings had better survival rates for crashed pilots than other fighters because they packed more survival gear. I was hoping they'd forgot some."

Fennec arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “You think a junked out ship can save us from Black Sun goons and slice hounds? You got more optimism than sense.” Despite the teasing tone, she genuinely wanted to see where he was leading her.

Ofe shrugged, his thick frame hunching slightly as he stood. “Might as well check. Can’t hurt, right?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. There was a warmth growing in her chest as she watched her would be protector rummaged through the debris, his muscles tensing and relaxing with each movement. Gods, she thought, he’s so earnest it’s kinda… cute. But the idea of being the protected damsel relying on her hero intrigued her far more than she wanted to admit.

Their search yielded nothing but frustration. The B-wing was a hollow shell of its former glory, stripped as bare as they were. Just as Ofe muttered a defeated sigh, the ground beneath them shuddered. Both froze, listening intently as the sound of shifting metal grew louder.

“What the…” Fennec started, only to be cut off as the entire B-wing lurched sideways. Junk tumbled down from above, clattering loudly as it rained onto the cockpit's roof. Ofe grabbed her arm, pulling her close as they were both thrown against a wall.

“We need to get out of here!” Ofe shouted over the noise, his grip tightening.

"What set this off?" she pondered aloud.

The universe must have heard, because it responded with a monstrous growl that echoed through the rain-soaked air. Somehow the relentless slice hound had found a way inside. They could hear the scratch of its claws and spikes against the metal as it pushed its way through the hollow hull toward them.

“Run!” Ofe yelled, flinging the cockpit open and heading into the rain.

As she tried to pull herself free of the ship, Fennec felt a sharp tug on her nipple. Gasping, she reached down to find one of her hoop nipple rings caught on a loose bolt sticking in an instrument panel. Panic surged through her as she yanked at it, but the piercing held fast. Her long nails fumbled, unable to work the bolt.

“Ofe!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Help! I'm caught!”

Ofe skidded to a halt, spinning around as the slice hound struggled to get through the panel at the back of the cockpit, causing the entire ship to sway. Without hesitation, he grabbed her caught tit in his thick hand, wringing a gasp from her lips. His other hand seized the bolt and with a might grunt, ripped it out of the panel, freeing her.

“Let's go!” he barked, lifting her off her feet and carrying her out of the B-wing.

Fennec clung to his neck, her breath coming in short gasps as they sprinted through the rain. Behind them, the B-wing came dislodged and tumbled down into a ravine of old speeders and walker legs, taking the hound with it in a cacophony that shook the very ground beneath their feet. Ofe didn't slow, dodging obstacles with surprising agility for someone so stocky. He clutched her slim frame to his chest as he navigated the treacherous terrain.

Ofe didn’t stop running until he found a sheltered nook beneath a massive, rusted hulk of an old AT-AT leg. The rain still dripped through the gaps in the metal, but it was a reprieve from the endless storm. He set Fennec down gently, her back pressed against the cool, slick surface. His chest heaved, breaths coming in sharp gasps as he turned to face her, his eyes gleaming with a mix of exhaustion and triumph.

"I'm pretty sure we lost it this time," he concluded. “You know,” he said leaning close, his voice low and teasing, “you owe me twice now. First your ass, then your tit. What’s next? Your … heart?”

Fennec blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to retort, but no words came. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, not just from the cold but from the way his proximity made her pulse race. His hand brushed against her side, the warmth of his touch searing through her skin despite the damp chill of their surroundings. She swallowed hard, her nails digging lightly into the metal behind her as she tried to steady herself.

“I…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but Ofe cut her off with a soft chuckle.

“If I have to keep carrying you around like this,” he said, his tone light, “you're going to need handles installed.”

“Yeah, right. Maybe,” she responded through a **** laugh, her voice husky. She looked away, her pink pigtails falling over her face as she tried to hide her embarrassment. His needless humor had defused the mood, for now.

Above , unnoticed amidst the chaos, a spherical monitoring droid hovered silently, its lens glinting faintly in a lightening flash. It hummed softly, scanning the scene of the recent junk collapse. Its sensors picked up the heat signatures of two humanoids, naked and exposed, their movements erratic but unmistakable.

The droid’s lens zoomed in on Ofe, analyzing his features, his posture, the way he held Fennec. A low beep escaped its speakers as it confirmed the match. The Black Sun's "dropoff" was free. Alive. And now, moving away from the designated zone.

Without hesitation, the droid transmitted its findings through encrypted channels, sending a concise report to its owner within the Black Sun syndicate.