Something Meaner than a Junk Yard Dog

The steady drizzle came down, turning the junkyard into a treacherous maze of slick mud and jagged metal. Fennec’s pink platform heels sank deeper with every step, her long gold-accented nails made digging through the rusted debris to find something, anything, to wear nearly impossible. The junkyard offered the bare pair nothing but failure, each scrap of tarp the found was either too small or too mangled to be of any use.

“Careful,” Ofe murmured, his voice low and steady as he reached back to steady her yet again with hand that wasn't still awkwardly covering himself. His strong hand gripped her slippery arm, keeping her upright as she teetered for the third time in as many minutes.

“I’m not helpweth!” she snapped, trying ineffectively to wrest her arm free. Her words came out more like a petulant whine. The absurdity of her situation was taking a toll on her pride. She was naked, cold, and stuck in ridiculous shoes that were about as practical as a bantha in zero gravity. And here he was, calm and collected, offering her support like it was no big deal. Her cheeks burned hotter than the rest of her chilled skin.

Ofe’s expression softened into something protective. “Sure you’re not,” he said, smirking as he guided her around a pile of rusted droid parts. “I just don't want you to hurt an ankle or… uh…” His eyes flicked downward briefly traveling over her naked flesh before darting away. “...anything else.”

Her cheeks burned even hotter, her breath catching as her exposure sunk in. Every stumble, every moment of him steadying her, felt like another layer of pride stripped away. She hated it, hated how his strength made her feel small and… dependent. But her body betrayed her, unable to shake the strange thrill of leaning on his strength.

Ofe shuddered in the cold and rubbed his arms. "Walking around in nothing but your skin… weird. Well, maybe not for you, Candy, being a strip… ah, dancer." Despite their mutual exposer, he still managed to blushed.

Fennec swallowed hard. She had allowed him to think he was trapped naked with Candy the Stripper to protect the reputation of Fennec the Bounty Hunter. She couldn't back away from that now.

His eyes traveled over her curves, lingering for a beat on the glistening gold rings dangling from her nipples and her hairless womanhood. Ofe was looking at her like some useless, sex object he had to protect and her only call was to embrace that submissive persona. She denied the smile that spread over her face by reassuring herself this was for tactical reasons.

"Like, yeah," she said with **** enthusiasm. "I, like, thpend way more time naked than cwothed. You can totawy feel all the guys ogling your body. It's, like… hawt." Fennec gave a smirk that came more natural to her than she wanted.

She stumbled again, probably on accident, and Ofe caught her again.

“Seriously?” he asked, steadying her. “How do you even walk in these things?” His tone half-amused, half-exasperated with her wobbly nudity as he kept her upright.

Before she could respond, something moved at the edge of her vision. Her heart leapt into her throat as she pointed through the rain. Both froze. From behind a toppled stack of droid chassis, a golden-furred slice hound emerged, its tusks gleaming and the spiked ridge along its back bristling, a heavy spiked collar encircled its neck. Ears perked up as its gaze locked onto them.

“Stay behind me,” Ofe said, stepping in front of her.

“Wait-” Fennec started, but her words were drowned out by its growl. The hound's stance turned predatory.

Ofe brandished a rusted pipe from the ground. “Nice doggie,” he muttered, edging backward. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Fennec attempted to follow, but her heels betrayed her again. She stumbled with a yelp, drawing the hound’s attention. Its growl deepened, reverberating through the junkyard as it lunged forward, delayed for only a moment as it dodged the pipe that Ofe hurled toward it.

Before she could recover, Ofe spun and scooped her up and hoisted her thin frame over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Hey! Leth me down!” she shrieked, her voice half plea, half indignation as her rain-slicked body jostled against him. Her bare breasts pressed against his broad back, her nipples hardening against the chill of the rain and the heat of his skin.

“Not if you want to live,” he retorted, already weaving through the maze of scrap with surprising agility for someone carrying a soaking-wet woman, bare-ass up over his shoulder. He slowed only to topple a stack of power converters into the creature’s path, forcing the beast to detour around the pile of junk. Fennec lost sight of the hound, but she could hear its claws clicking over metal as it shadowed them, ready to pounce at any moment.

What she could see, however, was Ofe’s backside, firm and flexing with every step, and cursed herself for noticing. Her cheeks burned hotter, her mind betraying her with thoughts she had no business thinking. Despite the dire situation, she couldn’t help noticing the way his muscles rippled with every stride, the way her bare crotch rubbed against his thick shoulder, her breasts jostling with each jolt of his hurried movements.

“Stay still, or we’re both dead,” he snapped, shifting her again as he ducked beneath a low-hanging crane arm.

As her body twisted on his shoulder, he steadied her by grabbing and asscheek in a firm grip. Fennec froze, her skin flushing as his hand lingered there, warm and possessive. The touch sent a shiver through her, one that had nothing to do with the cold rain. Even with all the naked flesh rubbing together, this felt more intimate, more invasive. And yet… she couldn’t deny the strange thrill coursing through her veins. Every move pressed her against his solid frame, and she cursed herself for the way her thoughts kept slipping toward places she didn’t want them to go.

Focus on the hound, she told herself, not his backside. Focus on the hound, not his backside.

The hound reappeared through the piled junk, barreling straight towards them.

“There!” Ofe barked, spotting a mangled B-wing with its canopy ajar. He surged forward, diving inside with her still slung over his shoulder. He slammed the hatch just as the hound dove. Its tusks collided with the armored glass. The beast scratched and snarled outside, its tusks clinking repeatedly against the rain-slicked canopy before it eventually huffed and retreated into the storm.

They lay in the cramped cockpit, naked flesh entwined. Both of them panted, Ofe from his harried run and Fennec… well, she wasn’t entirely sure why her breath was coming so fast. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the touch of his flesh and the way his hand had lingered on her backside. Maybe it was the way his strength had carried her so effortlessly, making her feel safe even when she hated feeling ****.

“You’re welcome,” Ofe said smugly, running a hand through his wet hair.

Fennec glared at him, though her red cheeks betrayed her excitation. “You didn’t have to carry me like… like a bag of tubers!”

“The way you were stumbling around, it was that or let you become hound chow.” Ofe smirked, his confidence clearly growing. "C'mon, admit it. I saved you."

"Thort of… I could'be-"

“Sort of?” Ofe leaned closer, teasing, “Say it properly. I saved your pretty ass, after all.”

She opened her mouth to retort but hesitated. The embarrassment and lingering thrill from being held so effortlessly dulled her anger. The warmth in her cheeks and the flutter in her stomach betrayed her. Fennec’s plumped lips pressed into a pout, but she couldn’t summon her usual fire.

“Thank you, for… for saving me,” she said softly, looking away. It was odd to hear that come out of her mouth. Fennec had been a child the last time she'd used those words.

“There’s a good girl,” Ofe replied with a grin, leaning back against the cockpit wall.

Fennec smiled despite herself. Even as she tried to fume, the memory of his strength and his steadying hand on her backside stuck in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, having Ofe around wasn’t completely intolerable.