The Missing Agent
After narrowly escaping a First Order bounty hunter, Kaz and his companions visit Lechee’s shop, fully aware of the Gran vendor’s role in their near capture. Though the immediate danger had passed, Lechee remained a liability—one that a certain Keteerian would decide how to handle.
Since their departure from Castilon, Kaz and the inhabitants of the Colossus had faced one peril after another, each threatening their survival. Moments of respite were scarce, and when they came, they were to be treasured. So when a distress call crackled over the station's bridge on a Resistance frequency, no one would have blamed them for ignoring it.
Given the proximity of the signal to their current position, it was likely a trap. This raised a difficult question: was the life of one or more Resistance agents worth risking the lives of everyone aboard the station? Kaz believed it was—and he wasn't alone.
With a plan, Kaz, Teroj Kee, Yeager, Synara and CB-23 set course for the planet Varkana, tracing the signal to Vargo Spaceport. There, they discovered a room bearing signs of a skirmish but no trace of the Resistance agent. While searching the living quarters, they uncovered a hidden datapad—the source of the distress signal—and identified the missing agent as a green-skinned Duros named Norath Kev.
Before they could leave, a masked bounty hunter ambushed them, intent on delivering both them and Norath to the First Order. After narrowly escaping the brutish hunter, they devised a plan: to find leads that might reveal whether Norath was dead or alive. Fortunately, Norath's datapad contained a list of First Order contacts—one of whom they recognised: Lechee, a Gran male and the owner of a junk shop they had passed earlier.
Wasting no time, they hurried to the market, remaining alert for any sign of the bounty hunter.
“Uhh, woah! That is heavy," Lechee grunted, setting a pair of crates on the counter. He opened the topmost case and picked up a handful of credit chips. “But I finally have enough credits to get off this stinkin' planet."
“Oh! Where did you get all that money, Lechee?" a voice called from nearby. Jarek Yeager stepped into view, a blaster aimed squarely at the Gran. Kaz, Synara and CB-23 followed closely behind him.
Lechee quickly tossed the credit chips into the case and slammed the lid shut. “My business is my own, so why don't you back off?" he snapped, stepping around the counter and waving his hand dismissively to shoo them away.
His efforts faltered when he found himself face-to-face with Synara. The purple-skinned Mirialan squared up to him. Lechee's three eyes flickered to the blaster resting on the counter beside her. Sensing his intent, she swiftly snatched it before he could move.
“I don't think so," she said, the blaster trained on him.
“You figured out Norath was a Resistance spy, and you sold him out," Kaz said, his voice tight with tension. He stepped directly in front of Lechee, his head just inches away from the Gran's three eyestalks. “Didn't you?"
Kaz jabbed a finger into Lechee's chest. The Gran stood his ground, his defiance dulling the human's anger.
“Even if that was true, what are you going to do about it?" Lechee sneered, stepping forward. Kaz leaned back but didn't budge.
“Plenty," Kaz said, his heart pounding as he searched for a response that might intimidate Lechee. “We're going to do plenty about it."
Even with his voice raised, the Gran remained unshaken.
“You are? Oh, I'm so scared," Lechee mocked, his voice dripping with feigned concern before shifting back to its usual dismissive tone. “You don't have it in you, kid."
Taken aback, Kaz steeled himself. “Oh yeah? We'll see about that." He pulled out his comlink. “Teroj, we could use your help."
Lechee eyed Kaz, a hint of worry creeping into his expression—more than he would have liked to reveal. That anxiety deepened when the imposing figure of Teroj Kee stepped into the shop. Clad in his usual garb, the Keteerian was armed with a blaster pistol and a rucksack slung across his back.
“The coast is clear—no sign of our bounty hunter friend," Teroj said, stopping beside Kaz. “What do you need me for?"
“Lechee here has some information we need," Kaz said, gesturing towards the Gran. “Care to make him talk?"
A slow, predatory grin spread across Teroj's face, his teeth catching the daylight. “Oh, that would be my pleasure."
Lechee squirmed under Teroj's gaze, his three eyes darting anxiously, sensing the threat posed by the hulking Keteerian. Teroj saw the fear—and recognised an opportunity. Violence would be too messy, especially with the need to keep a low profile. Intimidation would work better; he just needed to tug the right string to make the Gran spill his guts.
Teroj's sharp gaze swept over the cluttered shop, catching the glint of a couple of cases on the main counter. He crossed the room, flipped open the lid of one and reached inside. A flicker of mischief danced across his face as his fingers curled around a handful of credit chips. He rolled them in his palm, watching the light play across their polished surfaces.
“Wait—what are you doing? That's mine!" Lechee yelped, flailing in panic. “You can't just rob me like that!"
Teroj let the credits slip back into the case, shut the lid and pulled the cases towards him. “Oh, sure we can—unless you tell us what we need to know."
Lechee hesitated, torn between fear and self-preservation. “Ahhh! I don't know what he did with him! If he is still alive, maybe he took him to his ship."
“Where?"
“Oh, man, this is what I got! He rented out a docking bay in the main hangar on the south side; alright, leave me alone."
“Huh! It was a pleasure doing business with you," Kaz said, waving at the Gran.
“Oh, one more thing," Synara added. She aimed Lechee's blaster and vaporised a comlink within arm's reach of the Gran.
Lechee cried out, squeezing his three eyes shut, bracing for the worst. Trembling, he slowly opened them again, realising he was still alive.
“Can't have you snitching on us to your friend now, can we?" Synara said.
“I'll stay to make sure our new friend doesn't do anything he'll regret," Teroj offered.
Kaz gave the Keteerian an appreciative nod. “Thanks, Teroj. We'll see you later."
With CB-23 whirring at his side, Kaz turned and followed Yeager and Synara, their footsteps fading into the hum of the marketplace. That left Teroj alone with Lechee.
The Keteerian cracked his knuckles, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation and unrestrained excitement. “Now, what am I going to do with you?"
Lechee gulped.
Adjusting to life in Grevel's crew had taken time for Teroj Kee. Once, working for the First Order had seemed the easiest way to earn a decent living in a galaxy teetering on the edge of war. Yet, to his surprise, he quickly warmed to life among the Aleena and his companions.
He joined Kaz on missions aiding the Resistance and took odd jobs for Grevel. Somewhere along the way, they even became friends. More remarkably, he managed to patch things up with Flix and Orka—something he once thought impossible.
Teroj couldn't pinpoint the exact moment his perspective shifted, but it led him to get a tattoo bearing Grevel's mark. Perhaps it was the joy of having real friends for the first time in his life. Maybe it was the comfort of belonging—knowing he was more than just an asset, that he was one of their own.
Whatever the reason, it no longer mattered. One thing was certain: whatever happened next to Lechee would be his decision—and that, more than anything, thrilled him.
Crates filled with the Gran's credits in hand, Teroj marched Lechee into the back room of the shop. Metal shelves flanked the narrow path, crammed with salvaged parts and corroded scrap. The air was thick with the tang of oil and the sharp bite of burnt circuitry.
Beyond the clutter lay the Gran's modest living quarters: a rumpled bed shoved against one wall, a compact kitchenette on another, and in the centre, a small, well-worn table flanked by a pair of chairs.
Lechee's three eyes darted around, searching desperately for an escape. Finding none, they settled on Teroj. “Hey, I gave your friends what they wanted. I just want to leave."
Teroj dropped the cases onto the table with a harsh thump, cutting off the Gran's protest. He shot Lechee a dark glare. “If I let you go, there's no guarantee you won't send someone after us." Shrugging off his rucksack, he kept his gaze locked on Lechee. “Since you're so eager to leave, why not come with us? Sounds like a win-win."
Lechee folded his arms. “And go where?"
Teroj smirked. “Anywhere's better than here, right?"
The Gran weighed the Keteerian's words, his three eyes shifting as he considered the offer. The decision teetered on a knife's edge—acceptance or rejection. Instinct urged him towards the latter, and as a thought struck him, his snouted mouth curled into a knowing grin.
“Why would I go with you when I can go anywhere in the galaxy?"
He expected the Keteerian to falter. He was wrong.
“You could go anywhere," Teroj said, his voice dropping to a measured tone. “But you would spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder." He let the words settle before leaning in slightly. “Not the best way to live, don't you agree?"
The Gran's smugness wavered, uncertainty flickering across his wide-set eyes. Teroj didn't give him a chance to recover.
“I've worked for the First Order, too. Trust me, they punish failure harshly—and they don't hesitate to discard those who've outlived their usefulness." He let the weight of his words linger. “The Colossus might have a target on its back, but we have strength in numbers. We've bested them more than once."
Lechee's gaze dropped. The Keteerian wasn't wrong. The First Order's reach extended deep into the Outer Rim—spies like him funnelled intelligence on suspected Resistance operatives. He'd convinced himself he was the only informant on Varkana—but what if he wasn't? What if they were watching him right now?
Could they brand him a Resistance sympathiser? Would they send bounty hunters like Ax Tagrin after him?
He ground his teeth, his five suction-cup-tipped fingers tightening into a fist. He hated to admit it, but Teroj had a point. Slowly, he raised his eyestalks, meeting the Keteerian's gaze.
“And what do you do now?" he asked, still unconvinced. “Running and hiding isn't living either."
Teroj chuckled, folding his arms—a reaction that softened the sting of the Gran's words. “I've never had so much fun in my life. Sure, we're on the run, but that doesn't mean we've stopped living. If anything, we're living more than ever. My boss owns a parts shop—like yours—and he's starting a special service for folks looking to scratch a certain itch. By my reckoning, that's plenty."
He bared his thick, white teeth in a smug grin. “Yeah, danger's always lurking—but with the galaxy at war, can you honestly say there's anywhere safer?"
He caught the subtle droop of the Gran's curved antennae, the tension draining from his fingers. Lechee's resistance was slipping. Sensing an opening, Teroj pressed on.
“He treats me well. So do the rest of his crew. I'd even say we're friends." Teroj let out a dry chuckle. “Never had any friends in my old life. Now that I do, I can't believe I ever thought I was better off without them."
At the word friends, he saw a crack in the Gran's hostile façade. He knew Gran had an instinctual need for companionship. Without it, they could spiral into deep depression—sometimes to the point of madness or even death. Left alone too long, a Gran would waste away. If a life mate perished, the survivor rarely lasted more than a few days.
Teroj took a calculated risk. “Do you have any friends, Lechee?"
Lechee grimaced, as if sniffing a rancid stench. “I don't see how that's any of your business."
Unshaken by the Gran's abrasiveness, Teroj did something he never would have imagined before meeting Grevel and the others—he showed vulnerability.
“I'll let you in on a little secret," he said. “I tried to steal something from my boss's parts business."
That got the Gran's attention. Teroj pressed on.
“I got caught. And in situations like that, you usually end up in a prison cell—or worse. Instead, he gave me a chance to make amends. Taking it was the best decision I've ever made. You won't find many like that in the galaxy—people willing to give you a second chance, especially after you've wronged them."
Besides his brute strength, Teroj considered himself a smooth talker. It had saved him in tight spots before—and today, it proved invaluable once more.
“Let's say I'm willing to consider your offer," Lechee said, arms crossed, his three eyes narrowing. “What would I need to do?"
Teroj suppressed a smirk. “Just come with me and meet my boss. He'll sort something out for you. And if it doesn't work out, we'll find somewhere to drop you off."
For the first time in their conversation, a flicker of uncertainty crossed the Keteerian's face. What if the Gran rejected the offer? What then? With Kaz and the others still on Varkana, he couldn't risk letting Lechee slip away. Synara had destroyed his comlink—but what if he had another way to contact the First Order? Would Teroj have to draw his blaster?
Lechee uncrossed his arms. “Do you promise you'll do that for me?"
The tension in Teroj's chest eased, and a toothy smile spread across his face. “You have my word. Name's Teroj Kee, by the way." His eyes glinted as he placed a hand on the bag he'd brought. “Care to share a drink?"
From the bag, Teroj produced a metal canister and two glasses. Not exactly standard-issue gear for a rescue mission—but he liked to be ready for any eventuality. He poured a frothy amber liquid into each glass, handing one to the Gran while watching him closely.
Lechee eyed the liquid, his pitch-black eyes narrowing.
Teroj knew how to ease the Gran's doubts. “Trust me, this is the good stuff," he said, raising his own glass. He took a measured sip and let out a satisfied sigh, smacking his lips.
The sight of the Keteerian drinking seemed to reassure Lechee. He lifted his glass and took a few gulps. His three eyes blinked rapidly, and his mouth parted in surprise.
“Whoa, that's strong!"
Teroj smirked. Through careful trading, he had acquired some of the strongest spirits in Aunt Z's Tavern—potent enough to dull the senses and strip away inhibitions after a single cup. He wasn't sure how much it would take to loosen Lechee's tongue. Fortunately, he had time to find out.
Without prompting, Lechee began to speak about his past.
Born on Malastare, he had never known the sense of community that many Gran from Kinyen spoke of with quiet pride. Disconnected from his ancestral home, he drifted from system to system, eventually winding up on Varkana.
He spoke openly, sharing quiet regrets—dreams that had never materialised, ambitions long since abandoned.
“My shop? Just the latest in a long line of failed ventures," Lechee said with a chuckle that faltered into a stifled sob. “Even the Aurebesh on the sign's wrong. Leechee's Junk Emporium. What kind of person spells their own name wrong? I didn't have enough credits to fix it."
As the words spilled out, the Gran kept drinking. Teroj silently refilled his cup each time it ran dry. One drink became two, and two became three.
“All I wanted was to leave this place… go home," Lechee muttered, his speech beginning to slur. “Maybe pick up the pieces."
“And that's when the First Order came," Teroj said, his voice steady.
Lechee chuckled. “Yeah. Any news on Resistance spies for credits? Easy money. Enough to get away from here."
The Gran was on his fourth cup; the drinks canister was nearly empty.
“That's quite the tale," Teroj mused, swirling his half-full glass. “Sounds like you've had it rough."
Lechee chuckled again. “Rough is an understatement." He lifted his glass and drained it in one gulp. Setting it down with a resounding thud, he blinked slowly—each of his three eyes glinting in the dim light. “Don't think I've ever told anyone that before. Feels good."
Teroj followed suit and licked the moisture from his lips. It was time to move his plan into its final phase. “When was the last time you had any relief?"
Lechee's eyes widened, antennae snapping upright in surprise. “Are you coming onto me?"
“Not exactly," Teroj said, leaning in with a sly smirk. “Just a bit of fun—blow off some steam. No strings attached. Think of it as a preview of the pleasures you'll enjoy… once you're with us."
A rush of heat surged through Lechee's body, settling low in his belly. The Gran raised a hand to his face, blinking in disbelief.
“I must be dreaming… Why would anyone want someone like me?" He gave a low, self-deprecating laugh. “But sure, why not? What did you have in mind?"
“Don't worry—you're not dreaming," Teroj said. The Keteerian's grin sharpened, almost predatory. “You're about to experience something better than any of your darkest fantasies."
Lechee stumbled over to the bed and sat heavily, his three unfocused eyes fixed on the Keteerian. Thick fingers curled around the edge of the mattress. He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he watched—tense and silent—waiting to see what Teroj had planned.
The Keteerian opened his rucksack and retrieved a rectangular metal case. “I know your kind mate for life, so I promise it won't get that far."
Lechee had never lain with anyone. An outcast among his own species and too socially awkward to form bonds, he'd only ever had his own hands for company. Yet even without experience, he understood the customs of his people—and he was relieved that Teroj did too.
Crossing the room, the Keteerian set the case upright before him. The booze and cups weren't the only non-standard gear he'd smuggled in. With a flick of his thick middle finger, he released the buckles holding the case shut. It unfolded like a small door, revealing its contents: nine smaller, rectangular containers nestled within.
Lechee's three eyes widened. Each one displayed a face from a variety of species—and, perhaps more strikingly, penises in profile. Aleena. Gozzo. Chadra-Fan. Human. Snivvian. Keteerian. Hassk. Weequay.
Suddenly, realisation struck him—the Keteerian pictured on the case was Teroj Kee himself. If Grans could blush, Lechee was sure he would. Teroj coughed into his hand to catch the Gran's attention.
“Narb and Nod—the two Snivvians you see here—made these," Teroj said, pressing a button beside his likeness. The cover slid open, revealing a physical copy of the image beneath.
Lifting the faux phallus in his hands, Teroj grinned lewdly. “This one's mine. And soon, you're going to be very familiar with it."
While the Colossus was stationed near Celsor III, Narb and Nod devised a plan that Grevel wholeheartedly supported. During the post-hunt celebrations, Grevel's ball droid scanned each participant, capturing every inch, curve and detail of their bodies. Getting this data was only the first step; realising their dream required specialised tools they didn't have. That didn't stop them, though—they were resourceful and determined to succeed.
Scavenging the Colossus for materials, Narb and Nod cobbled together a makeshift fabrication unit capable of producing their designs. They used a Bothan dildo from Flix and Orka's private stash as a template. It took several iterations to perfect the material—comfortable enough to deliver the desired pleasures, yet durable enough to withstand prolonged, repeated use.
For reasons he couldn't explain, just thinking about that Bothan dildo sent a shiver down his spine.
Lechee's three eyes were fixed on the Keteerian-shaped dildo. The sculpted shaft bore the hues of orange-brown skin, ending in a meticulously detailed pair of balls. The craftsmanship was uncanny—almost unsettling in its realism. A flutter stirred in each of the Gran's stomachs. He knew what sex toys were—he'd seen them in vendor stalls tucked away in dingy back alleys and in the darker corners of the HoloNet—but he'd never mustered the courage, or spare credits, to buy one for himself.
Teroj basked in Lechee's enthralment. Kaz had reacted quite differently the first time he'd seen Grevel's so-called New Recruits—though the Aleena had been visibly displeased to discover his own tool was the shortest and least impressive of the collection. Grevel grumbled that the dimensions should have been adjusted to reflect his status as their leader.
Teroj's gaze flicked to the prominent bulge in Lechee's trousers, and he smirked. With the Gran in the mix, Grevel's bruised ego was about to suffer another blow. Whether Lechee posed a genuine threat to the Keteerian's top billing remained to be seen—but they were about to find out.
“Before you meet my friend," Teroj said, his tone playful yet edged with authority, “how about we see what you're packing?"
It wasn't an offer. The question was a test—to see how the Gran would respond.
“I don't know," Lechee said, his body trembling, thick fingers clasped nervously in his lap. “I've not done anything like this before."
Internally, Teroj couldn't have been more pleased—not that it surprised him. Lechee's mannerisms made it obvious he was a virgin, and Teroj was more than happy to give the Gran his first taste of intimacy. Outwardly, Teroj kept his excitement contained.
“Well, here's your chance to live a little," Teroj said, his voice low and alluring. “Follow my lead, and I promise you won't regret it."
Lechee's trio of eyes darted restlessly on their stalks. He murmured under his breath, weighing the pros and cons before stopping. Lechee gulped and turned to the Keteerian. “Okay, I'll do it."
Teroj grinned. “Excellent. First, you need to get out of those clothes."
Teroj watched with eager eyes as Lechee undressed. The Gran unbuckled his belt and slipped off his blue and brown jacket. He removed a string necklace bearing a silver plate, followed by a pair of silver rings—one from each hand—which he placed carefully on the bedside table. Lifting his shirt over his head revealed the generous bulk around his belly, with soft pecs and dark nipples hanging over it.
Lechee tugged off his black boots, revealing bandages wrapped around his calves and his feet, tipped by four claw-tipped toes. Darker brownish spots dotted his feet and continued in sparse patches across his tan skin. Removing his shorts left only a single barrier between Teroj and the Gran's masculinity. The garment outlined the manhood it struggled to contain, offering enough to stoke the Keteerian's imagination.
With three eyes—and females of their species having three breasts—some might assume Gran males would have three cocks. Teroj was about to find out if that was true.
Swallowing hard, Lechee pulled down his pants, revealing a single shaft—though it was far from disappointing. The Gran's cock jutted from its sheath: thick, pinkish-hued and a weighty length, crowned with a bulbous tip. What caught Teroj's eye most was the medial ring—a fleshy band encircling the shaft midway along. The Gran's tool was unlike anything in Grevel's collection.
Shaking off his momentary stupor, Teroj watched as Lechee sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight. Once settled, the Gran's three eyes fixed on him, a nervous smile creeping across his features. Not wanting to spook his new friend, Teroj took charge.
Reaching into his bag, Teroj pulled out a small bottle. Grevel had acquired it—courtesy of Vranki the Blue—for occasions like this. Popping the cap, he squirted a generous glob of thick, purple liquid onto the dildo.
Returning to Lechee's side, he offered the faux cock to the Gran. “Swallow it."
Lechee blinked, eyeing the dildo before glancing up at Teroj. “What?"
Teroj smirked. “You've heard of blowjobs before? Go on—prep it."
Lechee took the base of the dildo in his thick-fingered hands, staring at the shaft coated in purple liquid. Entranced, he parted his jaws, stuck out his tongue and gave the surface of the faux cock a tentative flick, the tip collecting a slither of the glossy fluid. Lechee's eyes widened—it tasted fruity, like Jogan fruit.
Relaxing, Lechee began to imagine the length was real, attached to a being of flesh and blood. The thought of having a sexual partner—anyone—sent his pulse fluttering. His tentative licks soon gave way to enthusiastic slurps. Running his tongue from base to tip, he imagined how his partner might respond.
Emboldened by his progress, Lechee hovered over the crown of the length, widened his open mouth and swallowed most of the faux cock—a task made easier by the Gran's snouted mouth. Despite this, Teroj remained impressed.
Almost jealous of the attention Lechee was giving the dildo, Teroj placed a hand on the Gran's shoulder. “Okay, okay, that's enough."
The Keteerian's voice was huskier than before, betraying his excitement—and that wasn't the only sign of arousal. His length strained against his pants, desperate to be freed and attended to. Despite his growing desire, he kept his primal urges in check. If things continued as they were, it wouldn't be long before it made its appearance.
Lechee pulled off the faux cock, a string of saliva trailing behind it, panting haggardly as Teroj took the dildo from him. It was time to take things up a notch.
“Roll onto your back and raise your legs," Teroj commanded.
Swallowing hard, Lechee obeyed, repositioning himself as instructed. Legs quivering in his hands, clawed toes twitching, he watched anxiously to see what Teroj would do next. The Keteerian settled at the edge of the bed, his weight sending a ripple across the mattress. The dildo glistened in his hand.
Teroj smirked, eyes tracing the curve of the Gran's buttocks. If Lechee stayed with them, he imagined Grevel's mark tattooed on one cheek—larger than his own; he'd make sure of it. Shaking off the thought, Teroj ran his fingers lightly across the firm flesh.
“I'm going to push this into you. You'll feel a sense of fullness—it might even hurt a little." Teroj locked eyes with Lechee. “But once you're accustomed to it, you'll feel great."
“Are you talking from experience?" Lechee asked, finally finding his voice.
“That's what others in your position have told me," Teroj said, a roguish smirk curling his lips. “Now, there are two things I need you to do. One: relax."
“And two?"
“Don't clench."
Teroj pulled the Gran's ass cheeks apart, revealing his rear entrance. The dark, puffy ring looked impossibly tight. He wished he could feel it wrapped around his cock—but that wasn't on the table today. He would find his pleasure elsewhere.
“I bet no one's played around with this before," he said, voice low and gruff.
Glancing up at Lechee's face, the Gran gave a small nod. Teroj grinned, flashing his teeth. Lechee's cock throbbed, the bulbous tip flaring—there was no mistaking his desire. He was riled up and ready. Teroj wasn't going to disappoint him.
“Well, here goes," he murmured.
He pressed the tip of the dildo between the Gran's taut cheeks, nudging Lechee's entrance. It resisted.
“Stop clenching," Teroj said, firmer this time. “You need to relax."
Teroj pressed the rod against the tight ring, which slowly began to yield, widening bit by bit. The mix of Lechee's saliva and the lingering flavoured lube provided enough slickness to ease the way. With patient, gentle prods, Teroj watched with satisfaction—and a flicker of glee—as the tip of the faux length finally slipped past the threshold.
“There you go," Teroj said encouragingly.
Lechee bit his lower lip as the dildo stretched his previously untouched walls. Teroj had been right—a deep sense of fullness took hold. There was no pain, only pressure—intense and strangely fulfilling.
“It's… inside of me," Lechee murmured, eyes half-lidded.
Teroj smirked. “Yeah—about half of it."
Satisfied that Lechee was easing into it, Teroj began to pump the faux cock in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. The Gran groaned, gasping as the dildo struck nerves he hadn't known existed. The fullness gave way to waves of pleasure, and soon he was rocking his hips in sync with the Keteerian's thrusts.
Closing his three eyes, Lechee had an epiphany. After so long alone, he'd grown numb—accustomed to the silence, the solitude—but now, in this moment of intimacy, it was as if a switch had been flicked. Light spilled into the darkness, revealing a side of the galaxy he'd never known. Embracing the feeling, he surrendered to the Keteerian's whims.
“You're taking this very well," Teroj said.
Lechee opened his eyes. “Don't stop."
Pleased by Lechee's response, Teroj's curiosity got the better of him. “Oh, don't worry—we've only just begun."
Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around Lechee's cock. His middle, thicker finger toyed with the medial ring, stroking the fleshy protrusion. Instinctively, Lechee clenched, making it harder for Teroj to thrust the dildo.
“You're clenching again," Teroj said.
“Can't help it," Lechee said, breathless.
This was the first time anyone besides the Gran had touched his length. The sensation sent a surge of pleasure coursing through him. There was no time to savour it as Teroj set a relentless pace. Lechee was overwhelmed by the dual sensations of coarse fingers stroking his shaft and the dildo pounding his rear passage. The familiar rush of orgasm loomed dangerously close.
“I can't hold on much longer," Lechee admitted, his voice trembling with trepidation.
Teroj chuckled low. “Good. Don't fight it. Show me what you've got."
The Keteerian's words were the final straw.
With a strangled cry, Lechee let loose, spurting like a fountain—thick ropes of Gran seed streaking across his stomach and chest. Teroj pulled back just in time, narrowly avoiding the spray. It was obvious Lechee hadn't relieved himself in quite a while.
Panting, lost in euphoric bliss, Lechee's mouth hung open, his antennae drooping. He'd never experienced such an explosive climax before. He knew he was pent up—but this was something else entirely.
“You're not done yet," Teroj said, a wicked grin across his face.
Unzipping his trousers, Teroj freed his cock. “Here's the real thing."
Like a being possessed, Lechee turned and swallowed Teroj's cock into his snouted mouth. His nostrils flared, drinking in the heady scent of masculinity. The Gran's enthusiasm caught Teroj off guard.
“Stars—you're a natural," Teroj gasped, panting as he struggled to keep pace with Lechee's eagerness.
He wanted to tell the Gran to slow down, to stretch out their pleasure—but it was too late. Already on the cusp of his own climax, Teroj didn't need coaxing. Instead of resisting, he surrendered to his carnal urges.
Rolling his hips, Teroj began to thrust into the Gran's mouth, using it like a sex toy. Lechee embraced his role with equal fervour. His thick tongue dragged along the underside of Teroj's cock, lips swallowing inch after inch until they pressed against the root.
“Here it comes, Lechee!"
Teroj bucked once, then stilled, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed into Lechee's mouth. The Gran swallowed it all, milking him for every drop of Keteerian essence.
Teroj withdrew, his length glistening as it slipped free from Lechee's snouted mouth. Once softened, he tucked it back into his trousers. Gently cupping the side of Lechee's face, he met the Gran's three eyes with a steady gaze.
“You and I are going to get along very well."
Knowing they could leave Varkana at any moment, Teroj decided it was time to call an end to their fun—for now. As Lechee lay sprawled in post-orgasmic bliss, Teroj's gaze settled on the dildo still buried in the Gran's rear. Tempting as it was to leave it in, he didn't want to push things too far.
“That was amazing," Lechee murmured, eyes half-lidded. “I don't think I've ever cum that hard before."
Teroj chuckled. “Glad you enjoyed it. There'll be plenty more like that—if you stick around."
“Then I'd be a fool to say no," Lechee added without hesitation.
“Good. But first things first." Teroj eased the dildo free, earning a low groan from Lechee at the sudden emptiness.
Teroj's gaze lingered on the slowly contracting hole of Lechee's rear entrance. Exhaling softly, he offered a hand to the Gran. “Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
They headed to the fresher together. Lechee stepped into the shabby-looking shower while Teroj rinsed and sanitised the toy. As he worked, he stole sideways glances at the naked Gran under the spray—broad shoulders relaxed, steam curling around his form. Teroj's mind drifted, already filled with images of the things they might do together in the future.
Once Lechee was clean and dressed, only one task remained: gathering his things before they headed to the shuttle. To Teroj's surprise, by the time he'd finished packing his rucksack, Lechee was already waiting.
“Is that all you're taking with you?" Teroj asked, eyeing the single duffel bag at Lechee's side.
Lechee offered a wry smile. “Yeah. I travel light."
Teroj's gaze shifted to the table. “I'll take the crates with the credits—no sense letting them go to waste."
They shared a brief smile—until Teroj's expression darkened. A sudden spark of inspiration lit his eyes. “If you followed me, people will know you left willingly…"
Lechee's smile faltered, giving way to concern. He swallowed hard, saying nothing as Teroj pressed on.
“But I've got an idea—and the tools—to make sure no one gets the wrong impression."
Lechee sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Deep down, he suspected he wouldn't like what came next—yet it stirred a flicker of excitement he couldn't quite suppress.
The marketplace buzzed with life. Beings of many species wandered the dusty streets—some loitering, others chatting with friends and many bartering at shop stalls. It could have been any other day. Yet the illusion shattered when an unusual couple stepped out of Leechee's Junk Emporium.
Teroj Kee emerged first, a rucksack strapped to his back with a duffel bag dangling from it, secured by a thick knot of black string. He carried two credit-filled cases under one arm, his blaster visible on his belt. That sight alone wasn't unusual. What drew attention was the leash in his other hand—about a metre long, ending in a collar locked tightly around a Gran's neck.
Lechee walked barefoot, grumbling at the rough ground beneath his feet. A light breeze danced across the Gran's bare chest and knees, the bandages wrapped around his arms and legs offering little protection. An ill-fitting loincloth covered his midriff, preserving the last shred of his modesty. With both hands bound behind his back in binders, he cut the unmistakable figure of a prisoner—exactly the image they intended.
“I can't believe I agreed to this," Lechee mumbled. “Did I really have to be this undressed?"
“We wanted people to have no doubt you were being taken against your will," Teroj said. “And from the glances we're getting, I think it's working."
The Keteerian puffed out his chest, walking confidently as he noticed people stopping or stealing looks in their direction.
Besides the obvious personal satisfaction Teroj took from the situation, it was also in Lechee's best interest. If any First Order informants were watching, this would reinforce the impression that Lechee had been taken prisoner—giving them less reason to come after him.
Teroj glanced back, his gaze dropping to the pronounced bulge straining against the confines of Lechee's loincloth.
“Doesn't look like you're having any problems with this," Teroj remarked. “Though I'd suggest you don't enjoy yourself too much, or it'll break the illusion."
Lechee lowered his gaze and grumbled quietly. Instead of snapping back, he focused on placing one foot in front of the other, each step carrying them closer to leaving Varkana behind.
“Don't worry," Teroj added softly. “We're almost there."
As they neared the archway marking the settlement's edge, Teroj spotted their shuttle parked nearby. Kaz and the others were still out on their mission, and he hoped they would be finished soon. He looked forward to presenting Lechee to Grevel, certain the Aleena would be pleased with his find—and confident the Gran would need no further convincing to stay for the long haul.
Once aboard the shuttle, Teroj set the crates down and shrugged off his rucksack, the duffel bag still firmly attached. He was glad to be relieved of their weight.
Seeing an opportunity, Lechee finally spoke up. “Okay, you've proved your point. You can get me out of these binders now."
“Oh, not yet," Teroj shot back with a smirk. “We have to wait for the others to get back first."
Lechee scowled, ready to snap back—but the words caught in his throat as Teroj stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief.
“You loved that, didn't you? All those eyes on you, your bare body on display. I think I saw a few tenting up. Bet they're kicking themselves for not getting a piece of you first."
Teroj reached down, thick fingers brushing the outline swelling beneath the loincloth, holding the Gran's straining manhood in check. “Well, their loss is my gain."
A rush of arousal surged through Lechee, and he thought he was about to climax. Yet, with agonising precision, Teroj withdrew his hand, leaving the Gran teetering on the edge.
“You just relax there," Teroj said, rising to his feet. “I need to prep the ship and check on the others. Don't worry—we'll be off this planet soon."
Lechee watched as Teroj moved to the front of the ship and settled into a seat, busying himself with a datapad.
Sighing softly, Lechee made his way to the nearest seat and followed suit. Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the chair. His heart was still racing, and a small smile tugged at his lips. For the first time in his life, he was looking forward to tomorrow.