Tell No One

Chapter 10.

Perhaps she was startled by his direct tone, perhaps she looked taken aback because she knew where his Crèche brother was? Only she had not expected him to ask after matters here had been dealt with.
No, the shaper standing before Hul Rapuung knew something, he could remember well the look that had graced her face, but for a moment, when he had spoken his domain name. It was the same look she gave him now, expression ominously calm, serene, like nothing at all was out of the ordinary. But Hul Rapuung knew the fine signs of deception – he’d seen quite the collection of them when interrogating his peers in the past. From time to scant time, he’d notice the odd twitch of a shapers tendril. The brief conspicuous look that flashed in her crystal-like eyes as though she were a crecheling with her hands caught in the iifi.

Mezhan Kwaad was a curious one, curious and deadly. Hul Rapuung had heard the rumours about how those implants could be used, all warriors had. It was not out of fear he wished greatly to avoid a confrontation, he needed to know what was going on before he met with the gods. But of course, ultimately, that would be their decision alone.

“There is no Vua Rapuung here” the shaper muttered distantly, waving one hand dismissively as if to shoo him away as one would a shamed one.

A deep and threatening basso growl stopped Mezhan Kwaad in her tracks. It reverberated slightly off the ichor-soaked walls, as if infecting them with its veracious anger, the warrior was not best pleased with her flippant dismissal. Little surprise there then,

“Yun-Harla smiles not on you, master shaper.”

Mezhan Kwaad’s eyes darkened considerably as they narrowed to sinisterly sparkling slits, “You know this information to be false? Then prove it commander!” She responded icily, he was not the only one who could take the cold scrupulous route of offence.

Hul Rapuung drew himself up imposingly, the vonduun crab armour he wore shifted, suddenly awoken by the promise of conflict.
“I observed him enter this damutek moments before the warriors arrived, he did not leave with them, he is here.”

The shaper frowned, brows beetling for a second before her tendrilled headdress began that knotted kneading motion again, Hul Rapuung wished to the gods that he could understand these silent words and signs of true thought, but he was not granted any such logic or gift, he would have to play this on cut instinct and small insights alone.

“I saw no such events, perhaps you are mistaken, you see…no one could enter this damutek without my knowing, and I sensed nothing of the sort transpiring here.” Mezhan Kwaad spread her palms wide in a gesture of bewilderment and false honesty. It was clear to her that Hul Rapuung was not going to be satisfied by her word alone, everything about him – his stance, language and expression bespoke a warrior’s suspicion and determination. One that was not nearly as easy to push aside as that of a lowly worker or attendant.

“You sensed wrong – I know what I saw, it would do you no ill to tell me of my crèche brother’s location, speak it.”

Crèche brother? Mezhan Kwaad had begun to tire of nasty little surprises that caused her blood to run as cold as the vacuum of space. She could feel its chill in her deepest veins – taunting her for her lack of insight, the evidence was right before her very eyes, the similarities the two shared, acutely obvious.
Uncertainty began to set in then, had she been betrayed by her lover? Had his foolish belief that the gods had turned a blind eye to their actions made him confident enough to speak of their relationship to members of domain Rapuung closest to him? She would sooner throw herself on the warriors’ coufee than die as Yakun Kwaad had, or indeed in sacrifice to non existent gods!

“There is no Vua Rapuung here!” She snapped, putting enough force behind her words to make the warrior quirk a brow in surprise, “You may search this damutek if that is your wish, but you will return empty handed.”

Hul Rapuung snorted, derisively shaking his head in disbelief, “The chamber adjoining the one where I found you, you will show me it.”

Mezhan Kwaad’s tendrils again took on a life of their own, all unfurling at once, curling at the tips, akin to an amphistaff awaiting the final strike,
“That is my personal – “

“If you truly have nothing to hide, you will show me that chamber, unless you would have me return with others to continue the search?” Rapuung interjected, tone every bit as intensely threatening as it had been for the past few moments. He took several imposing steps towards the shaper to emphasize his point, until the unsteady movement of her headdress calmed slightly.

The shaper took several deep breaths, her eyes glittering unnaturally bright as she observed the warrior – perhaps carrying out a detailed threat analysis of her own? He wondered.

“Very well, I will take you there now.” She relented, warring emotions evident in her broken sounding tone.

This was it, soon Hul Rapuung knew he would know the truth, and Vua Rapuung would have no choice but to explain himself.


*****

Vua Rapuung pulled hard on the leathery tentacle that had snagged painfully tight around his wrists, a crechelings error – he thought a split second later, as the creature exuding them stretched him out tighter until every muscle, tendon and synapse in his body sang an ode to fiery agony, rendering him immobile once again.
Curse that shaper, damn her and her deception through temptation! He should have predicted this, he really should have!
It was clear from the outset that she had not the faith in Yun-Txiin and Yun-Qaah to keep them from harm that he himself had. And they had, hand they not?

This chamber, this…cell or whatever it was, had not been breached by the search carried out by a large group of warriors sent to search this damutek for heretics after all – the gods simply must have still favoured him! And clearly – to Vua Rapuung at least- Yun-Harla delighted in Mezhan Kwaad’s surreptitious actions, why else did he remain here, bound by some distant relative of the embrace of pain?

This particular biot was contained inside some form of vivarium inside the shapers private chamber, the likes of which Vua Rapuung had never before set eyes upon.
He lay, stretched out upon a smooth coral slab through which living restraints protruded through the holes in the slab’s surface. Vine-like tendrils encircled his wrists and ankles, pulling his bound form tighter against the cold, crimson-coloured surface beneath him until he was literally straining every muscle just to breathe evenly. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, arms and torso as he twisted in order to try and lean closer to the opaque membrane to his immediate left.
The membranous ‘screen’ had been a transparency moments before Mezhan Kwaad had left him here, one touch of her shapers hand had stimulated the membrane to suddenly phase out to a frosty white colour – if he could get close enough, perhaps he could see a way out of this?

Shouting, of course, was pointless and Vua Rapuung supposed the only reason he had not been gagged too, was that the vivarium could be rendered impervious to sound. Besides, he would not wish to allow anyone to see him in such a humiliating situation. Indeed, his frustrated curses had done little save to leave his throat as dry and raw as the outrage that burned in his mind.
How dare she trick him into this! When Mezhan Kwaad returned and he was able to get free –
But that was the problem, his soul quandary- How did he get free? Any true caste Yuuzhan Vong knew how to install and release themselves from the creature that was the embrace of pain, but this creature reacted to none of the known stimulus. It undoubtedly only responded to the touch of a shaper – and so he cursed Mezhan Kwaad again, along with her ingenuity.

It was several long moments later that the warrior’s frustration gave way to acceptance, Vua Rapuung could actually admire the subtlety and ease with which the shaper temptress had lured him here. With all the knowledge of those born into the deception sect of the priest caste, she had known his weaknesses and used them in what he’d seen at first as action against him. But upon further scrupulous consideration, had she not done this out of love? Granted, this mark of distrust in the gods was contemptible and disturbing, he would have to speak with Mezhan Kwaad about her hasty actions and what had lead up to them. The situation was utterly humiliating too – if anyone saw him like this! Another deep, inward cringe gripped his thoughts between ruthless hands, she was not capable of such things surely? The shaper had done this for dear of being discovered, she had done this to protect what they had. A bold move in any respect, but Vua Rapuung could have to teach the shaper to master her fear – it was not an admirable trait.

Feeling the creature that bound him relax, the warrior twisted once more in its grasp.
He had almost reached the membranous screen when he felt the inevitable. Predictably the bonds grew tight, creaking with the strain of cranking Vua Rapuung’s limbs back towards the deep orifices from which the tentacles protruded. His joints once again sang awash with pain, wrapping his senses within agonies’ white-hot hold – he would use this time to pay penance to the gods then, and pray hope that they enlightened his shaper love also. That would be a most proficient way to use the time until her return. The warrior attempted to resist the creatures hold on him again, and then surrendered himself to the pain that was sure to come.


*****
The membrane to Mezhan Kwaad’s private shaping chamber snapped shut the instant Hul Rapuung set foot upon the chambers polished floor. The ichor upon the walls did not appear to form here and thus a thin layer of bioluminescent fungi lined the surface of the walls in patches, glowing a deep yet subtle blue.

“It aid the maa’it’s, allows them to work more proficiently – see far beyond the spectrum.” The shaper murmured as she tenuously observed Hul Rapuung’s expression of askance. It was as though she had shared a humorous secret with him, yet he knew not what she found so amusing.

“You must do what you can, of course.” He replied quietly, scanning the room with his dark eyed gaze, scrutinizing.
“This is no sleeping chamber.” He soon added bluntly, as if noticing the lack of nest-bunk for the first time.

The shaper nodded once, her tendrils dancing in admonishment, “You are correct, I could not risk anyone associated with master Yal Phaath knowing,” she began to furnish “My domain has recently been gifted a most prestigious task by Supreme Overlord Shimrra himself, I could not allow my rivals to gain access to my work, they would surely use it against me.”

Hul Rapuung cast a critical eye in the master shapers direction,
“And why would they do so?”

Mezhan Kwaad’s expression lost none of its innocence,
“Why would they not? Why would any of your subordinates wish to advance through methods of deviation?” She responded in a prickly tone, and Hul Rapuung nodded in agreement, he understood as would most.

Instead he began to pace around the chamber methodically, checking every surface, eyeing samples laid out upon the benches of smooth ebony yorik coral and succulent moss.
The shaper dare not cast an eye in the general direction of the secreted vivarium that lay behind an opaque fleshy membrane to the far side of the damutek wall. It would be unfamiliar to anyone who had never had cause to be detained inside a damutek for a long amount of time, the cell was often found in the holding halls of the priests, designed to restrain and hold even the most determined of prisoners-be they yuuzhan vong or not – the cells were modified to react only to a small group of bio signatures. Escape was rare – nigh on non existent.
Hul Rapuung struck her as the consummate warrior, loyally devoted to the pitifully dogmatic true way and indeed his duty with it. He would not know what he was staring at.

The instant that hope had entered her mind, it was snuffed out in a heartbeat,

”The protrusion on the far wall, what is it?”

Mezhan Kwaad offered the warrior her most alluring smile, “It is an infant maw luur of my own shaping, it is altered to nourish the damutek from within.” She cast her arm out in a wide arcing gesture, “It will not grow much larger than that.”

Again Hul Rapuung nodded and the shaper was certain she could see the chemical changes within him as he poured over her answers in his mind, Maa’its shifting to a lighter shade of shimmering green.
“Is that all? I have tasks that require my attention before I find rest this cycle.” She pushed as gently as she could, tentacled mass atop her head kneading her scalp.

The warrior was still pacing the floor, now daring to pick up specimens and examine various creatures more closely, his agitated state grew more and more heightened by the second until he was grumbling to himself in rather inaudible words. Mezhan Kwaad could only look on and wince as he placed down several bulbs containing a poisonous element none too gently, her tendrils whipping about wildly each time the warrior came so close to destroying her work and indeed themselves in the process. Had this being no tact at all?!
Eventually, after what seemed like his tenth circle of the area, he whirled to face her, dropping yet another fragile specimen bulb to the ground. The bulb cracked under the commander’s foot and the shapers eyes went momentarily wide – in the frantic pace his search had begun to take, she had been unable to keep track of which bulbs contained which specimens, if that was the one containing the modified meshh spores –

“I know he is here, I saw him enter, you will take me to him now!”

Despite his angered tone and the fact he had just very likely doomed them both, Mezhan Kwaad’s eyes narrowed instantaneously, she had begun to tire of this little game.

“Perhaps your missing warrior departed with the others” She suggested again tersely, “he is not here now, I would know if he were, one of my adepts would have notified me and if he is half as hapless as you are he would have set off every chain of security measures this damutek boasts! He is not here! “

Hul Rapuung’s gaze darkened and he felt a deep growl bubble up and reverberate from down inside him, travelling up his throat to escape him, his fists clenched so tightly that his clawed fingertips broke the calloused flesh beneath audibly with a wet squelch.

Stalking towards the exit membrane, he shoved past the shaper before fixing her with a threatening stare,
“For your sake, shaper, you had better be speaking the truth.”

Bristling, the shapers’ finger-spears almost broke free of her own fingertips, “And for yours you will leave, now.”

Such a pity she had not challenged him more formally, Hul thought to himself, he would have so desired to wipe out that air of superiority she carried around so obnoxiously. Perhaps there was some sense in her vague sentence thought, Vua Rapuung could have used the departing crowd for cover, even the events of execution would have drawn the attention of many for long enough for him to slip through the net. Needless to say his crèche brother would need to resurface soon before the next day cycle, he’d already put it off long enough. The shaper was lying, in a round about fashion – but no doubts fogged his mind, she was lying.

“I go, but you have not heard the last of this yet master shaper, not by far.”

She did not respond verbally, the tips of her tendrils flicking out angrily as the forked tongue of an amphistaff would taste the air, her eyes, once a warm yellowish green, now looked cold and filled with contempt.
Hul lingered for barely a moment, perhaps testing her patience further, and then departed in silence, taking his ill-temper with him.

Mezhan Kwaad stood enveloped in that silence until her body reminded her she had great need to release breath. Exhaling sharply, she placed forefinger and thumb over her nose-ridge and pressed the small of her eye sockets soothingly, a dark trickle of black blood flowed from one nostril accordingly – her vaa tumour was aging rapidly, she would soon need to remove it, sooner still if this situation did not calm and keep her formulating layer upon layer of lies. She bent down and picked up the remains of the specimen bulb Hul Rapuung had crushed in his anger, carefully analysing droplets of the liquidized contents that had spilled onto the floor.
‘Not Meshh spores’ she realized with much relief.

Crossing the room in several wide strides, she reached the opposite wall upon which the outer-shell of the vivarium was mounted.
Tentatively stroking the node at the side of the membranous screen, the shaper looked on with new found delighted amusement when the screen shifted from opaque to transparent in one simple fluid blink.

Inside, Mezhan Kwaad’s eyes met with the taut and stretched form of the warrior Vua Rapuung. Sweat beading on his body told of a struggle he’d been previously engaged in with the creature restraining him, every muscle would have been burning awash with unthinkable agonies by now. In his eyes, she could see a burning confusion – perhaps betrayal. No doubt about it, she had almost certainly bruised that ego of his with her interesting method of keeping him out of sight, but never out of mind.
She touched her palm against the transparency, it’s fleshy surface almost moulding around her shapers hand, tasting it before snapping back as if in spasm and retracting completely to the edges of it’s coral frame.

“Welcome back.” The shaper purred pleasantly as the sound-inhibiting barrier diminished from view.

Vua Rapuung blinked, dark eyes searching for some sign of remorse, he would find none, naturally.

“If by that look you mean to question my motives- “ the shaper began.

“I question your faith in the gods.” The warrior spoke up for the first time, his voice sounding raggedly hoarse and as tattered as his limbs must have felt right now, but the strength of his conviction was there as potent as ever.

Something inside Mezhan Kwaad’s mind strained to snapping point, the way he glared up at her defiantly in the foolish thought that he was correct! Why could he not see even now? Had he known how close they were to being discovered…would he think the same? His blind faith had almost gotten them both sacrificed!
“As I question yours!” She hissed back in bitter retort before she were able to rein in her blasphemous profanity.

The warriors eyes widened in stark surprise and outrage, then he attempted to sit up, only to be wrenched back down tighter again by the very bonds that still held him here. The creature that held him firmly, caused his body to contort in impossible ways, yet he managed to grit out a question through the hot agony that coursed through him as his every fibre protested against the onslaught.
“…Ex…explain…”

Mezhan Kwaad seated herself beside him, shapers hand resting on his chest as she waited for his contortions to calm, and for his expression to return to some kind of attentiveness before she continued.
“You believed that the gods would protect our secret, yet barely moments ago those warriors were sent to sweep this entire damutek for heretics.”

“On your orders” Vua Rapuung replied suspiciously, not quite understanding what this had to do with them.

“Yes, but I had not accounted for your presence in this matter! The gods do not control us all so freely.” She added, tendrils somewhat chaotic as the true nature of her thoughts seeped into her words – was this as a result of the aging vaa tumour also?

“Do not speak those words! Do not!” Rapuung raised his voice, his restraints creaking under the stress of his straining against them, “They are blasphemy and –“

“We are blasphemy Vua Rapuung, don’t you see?! Do you still not understand?” The shaper cried in frustration, cutting him off in the process. But Vua Rapuung did not see, she could sense it in the chemical exchanges in his mind, anger, confusion, denial and above all else…a pitiful faith in something so abhorrently false she could have choked on it. Exhaling, sagging into herself, she brought one hand up to her head as if in pain…a very unusual gesture for a shaper of her status to make in the first place, but this was a very unusual situation was it not?

“There was another who arrived with the warriors, one who called himself Commander Hul Rapuung – he claimed to be your crèche brother.”

Vua Rapuung felt a sickeningly tight knot form in his stomach.
How? How could he have been tracked here? He had been so careful! This was impossible, the gods would never have allowed -
Unless this had been Yun-Harla’s work all along? Nothing but sweet deception to show a bloody example to all true caste that the gods were not to be deceived or trifled with.
Did Hul know?

“Is what he claims the truth?” Mezhan Kwaad pursued,

“It is, “ Vua Rapuung confirmed, “he is my crèche sibling, he knows about…us?”

“He has suspicions, nothing more – I have seen to that myself.” The shaper admonished, eyes narrowing in the memory of that particular encounter.

“And I know he is not so easily dispatched,” Vua Rapuung stressed “ He will return.”

The shaper looked away for a brief moment, seemingly staring off into the non existent distance,
“I imagine he will,” She mused, shapers hand twitching accordingly. The motion was not lost on the warrior at all and he felt something inside of him relent slightly,

“This concerns you more than you will admit, you believe he will discover us, he will not. I will not allow it.”

Mezhan Kwaad actually laughed at his reassurance, though it was not a mocking laugh so much as a nervous one perhaps. For once he had not mentioned the gods hand in this. She shook her head and turned back to face him, light dancing in her eyes,
“Still you see but you do not comprehend,” she muttered extending a needle like spine from one finger.

Hand deftly playing over the creature that restrained him, she injected it with a mild relaxant.

“I wonder if you ever will-“ she continued, brushing the back of her hand gently against his cheek admiring the view as she did so. “It will release you soon, pity….I rather enjoy having you at my mercy.”

Had she sensed the change in him too?

“How long?” He asked dubiously,

Smile firmly back in place, though slightly wistful, she caught the wry look in his eye and ran with it.
“Not nearly long enough,” Her voice was little more than a whisper now as she loomed over him, capturing his lips with her own for a deep sensuous kiss. This Vua Rapuung did not resist, and despite the lingering doubts, he clung to hope with a fierceness he could not fully understand.

Tell No One – Chapter 10 pt 2

Reciprocating the shapers’ kiss, Vua Rapuung took a long deep inhalation, luxuriating in the scent that warmed his senses. It was in these moments, he learned to put aside those discontented thoughts and worries that seemed to swarm his mind like hungry bissop hounds, whenever the shaper was not near. Mezhan Kwaad indeed had a way of making him forget how offended he was by some of her earlier blasphemies and thus forcing him to abandon his fears in the process – but of course, warriors didn’t feel ‘fear’.
Yet in her stark and highly strung reasoning for placing him here, she had said something that seemed to break this rule ever so subtly.

She had been right, of course, they were a blasphemy, and by sending Hul Rapuung here as a sign of the gods anger through his own deception, the gods had left him with a choice, a test as it were.

Leaning over him, the shaper’s soft lips grazed the remnants of his earlobe as she whispered sultry words of raw temptation to him – it was as if she had read his thoughts, but of course that was impossible. The only mortal creature blessed with that gift was a yammosk, and even the shapers could not withstand a graft of that magnitude…could they?
“I must add that while I have you all to myself, it would be a shame to let that time go to waste – particularly as I have so many inspiring ideas.” Mezhan Kwaad was whispering silkily, “So many alternative uses for me to turn my hand to.”

The warrior could do little to hide the delight in his eyes, he agreed whole heartedly with her statement, yet when he attempted to pull free of the sinuous tentacles that had ensnared his wrists, thighs and ankles, he was once more rendered agonizingly immobile.
Confusion painted Vua Rapuung’s otherwise inert expression, he would not acknowledge the pain he felt twisting his synapses into hot oblivion.

The shaper however, gave a brief chuckle of amusement, mischievous intent dancing in her maa’it’s.
“Oh no, you are going to remain right where you are.” She purred, running her serrated thumb-spur down the full length of his jaw-line, her rather unnerving smile still firmly in place.
This wasn’t right, Vua Rapuung thought, a warrior tied down here like one of his castes lowliest while she lauded all over him – and yet he admired her idea inexorably, lustfully. He wanted to see what she had in store for him. It seemed Mezhan Kwaad had prevailed again in purging his doubts, for the moment at least.

“That is what you wish?” He offered with some effort through the pain.

Mezhan Kwaad's eyes sparkled with pleasure, lust tainting her tone as she responded, mock-idly running a sharp blade-like implemented finger down the front of Rapuung’s robeskin., cutting it free from him with the gentle flick of her eight fingered hand.
“I wish it.”

She had begun to lean down toward him again when she tore the last of the self-healing living fabric away from his form. Her lips ghosted over his tempting and teasing him into a kiss that never materialized, never once committing to the action it’s self. Each time he sought to claim those sweet voluptuous lips of hers, she would draw away just far enough to remain out of reach.
Rapuung allowed the slight oversight of a deep growl escape his throat, expression speaking volumes of pained frustration for him,
“If it were not for these restraints –“ He began, but was cut short when the shaper seemingly gave into him, crushing her lips against his, tongue delving into the warriors mouth to caress his own tongue as if coaxing a simbyote to life. The warrior arched his body upwards as though this brief contact were not enough, he wanted to hold Mezhan Kwaad, dote on her every whim if it meant he could feel that cruel hand of hers upon him. But by the gods above all else he wanted to take her where she sat!
He could already feel himself growing unashamedly hard at the very thought, even over the searing torture in his limbs that remained bound flesh, bone and sinew, by the creature trying to hold him down.

Evidently, the shaper had sensed certain changes in the warriors bio-rhythms and she pulled away from him suddenly, breathless and eyes full of mischievous intent. Biting down on her lower lip slightly as if to mock a coy expression before another lustful smile played across her lips.
“You would do what, exactly?” Her voice was as smooth as polished glistaweb.

Rapuung’s ragged nostrils flared as he exhaled deeply and he held a knowing look in his dark eyes.
His silence was palpable, it wasn’t particularly difficult to render him speechless, Mezhan Kwaad thought to herself, or rather she half-thought as Vua Rapuung surprised her by smiling in return through the pain. A less than subtle hint.
“It would be you in my place and I would have you already.” He breathed at last, breaking the silence with his blatant statement.

Mezhan Kwaad’s tendrils coiled with a rhythmic delight echoed in her all too amused expression, a small, barely audible chuckle escaped her as she had chance to think over the audacity of her lovers words.
“But I am not…and you – “ the shaper raised a finely bladed finger-tool, hooking it beneath the think strip of oozhith draped over her shoulder. At her touch, the creature removed the cilla it had inserted into the Yuuzhan Vong woman’s pores for grip, the sharp blade cutting through what appeared to be the shoulder strap of the living garment. It would heal it’s self, like most Yuuzhan Vong biots, within moments if it were a particularly young oozhith. The creatures darkened with age and this one was a purest stainless white, no trace of a more familiar green adorned it’s surface indicating it’s youthful reservation for the masters of the shaper caste. Doing likewise with the other strap, the creature began to reflexively peel back from her form much like an ooglith cloaker, as she finished,
“-you will do what I wish.”

The Oozhith moved in hypnotic waves over the shapers ritually adorned skin, almost caressing every tattoo or marking, each wave taking it one stage lower. Vua Rapuung watched with avid attention as the creature retreated inch by inch down his lover’s lean frame, skimming her every curve with a painful precision.
Her gaze never left him, even as the oozhith pooled at her feet out of sight, this was all for him. Whatever her motives had been in the beginning, none of that mattered now, she was irrevocably his. It almost pained her physically to think of a life where he was no longer a part of it all in any sense – yet to admit as much to herself seemed nigh on impossible, a weakness she must never show.

No one had touched her life as Vua Rapuung had, not for the fact that such unions were forbidden alone, what shaper could truly say they had never been curious to explore the natural desires they were bound to experience at some point in their lives? Those that did not were, without doubt, to die in depravity – they had never truly lived. Did Vua Rapuung understand and share her most secret of sentiments? She wondered, there was certainly plenty that a man of few words could keep secret.

He was still watching her, eyes roaming the contours of her naked form as though he had just laid eyes upon her for the first time. He almost shook with anticipation and the pain of forced restraint combined. Gods only knew what would happen if he broke free – and yet that very thought sent Mezhan Kwaad’s pulse racing. She would not let him go, not yet…not when she knew she could get him all the more hot and wound up. And he was not the only one, she too felt herself flush warm, her skin taking on darker, dusky tone that mirrored that of the warriors as she straddled him, rising to her knees over him with lithe fluidity. From this angle she could be certain that the warrior beneath her would have the best view possible.

Somewhat curiously, Vua Rapuung raised a scarred brow in wonderment, no doubt unaccustomed to being at the mercy of a mate, much less a forbidden lover. She could only imagine what triage of pleasures the warriors inflicted upon each other in such situations – and then again she wished she had not. Rumours of his involvement with the subaltern, Suun Esh still filtered through the halls and communal areas. Mezhan Kwaad was thinking possessively, but it was the warriors’ possessive streak that would be tested to it’s limits tonight…if it had not been already. It would be stretched out and shredded into fine strands of agonistic pleasure unknown to him until the moment he would feel its furious embrace – strung out just as he was.

Extending her multi-implemented hand toward him, reaching out like the sinuous branches of a lim tree, Mezhan Kwaad trailed her hand down over Rapuung’s taut, sweat-sheened chest. The cruel ever-sharp blade upon her index finger drew a hairline cut, black blood welling up in bulbous rivulets to contrast against his blue-grey flesh before running with gravity over the contours of his toned body. The blood left shining liquid ribbons as dark as the deep void in their wake – like excess iifii ink after a ritual adornment, he thought.

The shaper’s hand stopped short when she felt the warriors heartbeat increase, his temperature rise ever so slightly and his eyes lost some of their focus before finally, he closed them, exhaling long and deeply with it. When next he opened his eyes, Vua Rapuung was drawn to the sight of Mezhan Kwaad taking the same bladed finger into her mouth to savour the dark metallic tang that was her lovers life blood, luxuriating in the sensation of various internal implants attempting to break down and analyze the genetic make-up of the iron rich liquid, by this most unorthodox way of testing. The information came to her in painful white-hot threads, shooting through synapses toward her vaa tumour which, in catalytic turn, filled her mind with knowledge only a master shaper could possibly comprehend.

But Mezhan Kwaad was not done yet, she too felt the same burning desire within her – it filled her senses with a previously unknown wanton tension.
She wanted to free him, wanted him to take her where she rested, but knew she would not be given a chance to work him up into a lust-filled frenzy as she would have with him secure like this – secure for the time being anyway.

Maa’it’s fixed upon him, gazing at him through the spectrum, she slid her shapers hand down from her voluptuously full lips, dragging the bladed implement over the minute coral decorations rooted in her jawbone, leaving a slight trail of blood in it’s wake – yet she had not cut herself, the blood was his residue left upon the unyielding tool that responded only to her command, much like a lambent harvesting spur responding only to the touch of it’s owner.
The same hand continued it’s trail down her neck, taking great care not to apply the correct amount of pressure in order to break the fragile flesh beneath, and down further still, until her hand tantalizingly encircled the plumpness that was one of her breasts. There her hand lingered for a while, tempting and teasing out sublime reactions from her body as she squeezed the sensitive flesh beneath her hand, fingers playing delicately over the sweet bud of her nipple. The intricately woven nerves beneath her touch responded beautifully, sending her deeper into her need-filled sensation.

Beneath the shaper, Vua Rapuung writhed with sexual frustration and new found torment, his painfully hard member ached for her touch, he ached for her touch however slight – this was a sublime torment like few others he’d ever experienced, he could handle the razor-sharp spikes of agonistic torture coursing through his stretched-taut limbs, any warrior should be able to, and he was no stranger to the subtle pleasures in taking a mate. But up until the day Rapuung had laid eyes on Mezhan Kwaad, he had only ever lain with fellow warriors, the shapers it seemed had all the time in the void to think up devilish new ways to use their ‘gifts’. All taking a mate had ever been up until now was something that must be done every so often for procreation’s sake, to expand his domain’s glorious bloodline or as something to ease the raw tension worked up in combat, something to pass the night cycle. What he had with this shaper was quite the opposite, it fitted none of his known ways of living, but not simply because it was forbidden – he shared that thought with his lover unknowingly. While he could not deny that added to the all encompassing thrill of it all, Rapuung knew what he felt around this shaper was near incomprehensible, yet somehow it needed no explanation. He just knew in his gut he wanted nothing more than to be next to her.

He tested his bonds one more time, but they neither yielded to his attempts at removing them, nor did they break under the strain – that was nothing compared to the strain of only being able to watch as Mezhan Kwaad continued her little performance of self pleasure, teasing him into sublime oblivion with her every seductive motion. Her hand had continued its downward trail, gliding effortlessly over her tattoo adorned stomach, snaking a path past tone and embellishment both, to linger momentarily at the delicate rise above her core.

In his eyes she saw a subtle and silent exchange with her own sparking gaze, a wordless askance such a rare sight to see from a warrior, that the shaper wondered if she had interpreted wrongly. Yet again she shook her head, he would have to give voice to his thoughts, swallow that ingrained pride of his before she considered anything such as complying with his wishes.

Vua Rapuung’s eyes narrowed barely perceptively and he bared his sharpened teeth in a display of extreme irritation – Mezhan Kwaad however, would not let a small thing such as intimidation sway her decisions, especially as that intimidation came from a warrior.

With little hesitation, she slid her hand effortlessly between her thighs as smoothly and lithe as the tendrils that coiled rhythmically atop her head, the soft spur of her thumb gently brushing against the delicate nub of a nerve cluster that lay within – gently being enough to cause the master shaper’s eyes to flutter closed in pained delight.
Gasping suddenly, her headdress outwardly betrayed her inner-most feelings in it’s complex and most lively dance yet. A jolt of sensational pleasure coursed through her body, leaving in it’s ecstatic wake an additional temptation like no other.
She had felt this way before – that night at the succession pool – and knew even then that she wanted the one who lay before her forever, that she needed him.
If he would only acknowledge the same in voice as well as actions…

Digits continuing to tease and work her up into a frenzy of pleasurable tension, Mezhan Kwaad was forced to keep a hold of too many of her senses than she would have preferred. Already she could sense the deep burn of lust that threatened to consume her completely should she tip the balance into orgasmic ecstasy.
Beneath her, the warrior had redoubled his efforts to free himself, but the creature binding him had clearly yet to succumb to the relaxant administered to it – if it had been a relaxant that had been administered, he thought.

Captivated by the actions of the shaper above him, Vua Rapuung struggled fiercely with the torment that was born of the tension rising ever stronger within him. He was a proud warrior of the Yuuzhan Vong, a devotee to Yun-Yammka and one that had attained the honoured rank of commander! He had never had anything denied from him! Everything he had strove for in life, in devotion, he had attained! None of those he had taken to his nest-bunk would have dared such an audaciously daring move, yet he had not voiced anything in the way of objection- what had this shaper done to him?

His malehood throbbed profusely, near acridly painful as pearlescent liquid beaded upon the head.
As yet, Mezhan Kwaad had given him no relief, only agonizing mental and visual torment of the sweetest kind – she truly was a master at that, no warrior he had ever known would be so attuned to the subtle changes within him, yet she read him like a worldship qasah, expertly and with a great deal of attention. Had he been an intendant, he thought, he might have found the underhanded methods she had used to place him here, admirable. He had shown weakness however, and she had played off that weakness a little too well, this would have been more than a little disconcerting to him, had he cared to look into it further.

Now it was the shaper who writhed atop him, one slender, dextrous finger sliding between her slick folds into the welcoming warmth beyond, where it curled, seeking out the small yet prominent cluster of nerves inside her arousal soaked vessel. Mezhan Kwaad rocked back and forth ever so slightly against her own touch, tendrils of her headdress swaying with a delight unknown to them until recently, the whole encompassing sight of this was almost too much for Vua Rapuung to take. He felt as though he would explode at any moment, that his unsated desire would devour him whole if he found no means of release soon – and then, Mezhan Kwaad allowed a deeply aroused moan to escape her lips.
Enough really was enough –

“Mezhan…” The warrior managed to choke out her name only, his voice bearing a raw hoarseness that was just enough to draw out a curious glance from his enthralled lover, her tendrils curling into intricate knots in what he supposed was a silent acknowledgement or question. Yet not for one moment did she stop what she was doing.

“Mezhan, I…” again his words hitched in his throat, it was as if the gods themselves had bade him silent, perhaps that was their intention with a swift and humiliating punishment to follow.

This time, however, the shaper did deign to answer him, her one unaltered hand ghosting over the swollen flesh of his organ, index finger running over the head to swirl the pearlescent liquid of his essence over the taut flesh in several delicately sublime motions. Vua Rapuung literally jolted upwards, as if stung by a swarm of hurtling blaze-bugs, sheer electric sensation coursed through his veins delighting in the much needed contact and friction her gift to him had provided.
The warriors’ mouth opened in a silent gasp of pained pleasure at having his body physically bounced up from the harsh, cold surface of the slab due to sensation alone. If one single caress from that hand could cause so many delightful sensations to happen all at once, only this time, they were not followed up by the creature’s tethers pulling his limbs swiftly back into agonistic torture.

The warrior had not the time to wonder, as when he opened his eyes, gazing through the damp, sweat-slickened hair that had fallen across his face, he saw Mezhan Kwaad gazing down at him with a rather amused expression worn upon her face. She leaned down, bypassing the warrior’s lips to allow her own to lightly brush the soft, supple flesh of his earlobe.
“You wished to ask something of me?” She purred in a not-entirely innocent tone of voice.

A less than subtle growl reverberated from the warriors throat and into the chamber that surrounded them, and he was completely oblivious to the shaper’s assuming smile. She would not devalue her words by speaking again, and so waited for him to speak what she had the distinct feeling he would.

“I wa-“ Vua Rapuung paused to rephrase his words – an action most unlike him, had he cared to analyse as closely as his lover did.
“I need you – now”

Mezhan Kwaad drew breath, flexing her shapers hand in anticipation, her maa’it’s sparking with a renewed brightness as she mulled over Rapuung’s words.
“I see.” She began, her voice low and lust saturated as every fibre of her being.
“Did no crèche-master tell you – “ the shaper had risen up from her leant over position to loom over the warrior somewhat imposingly.
“You cannot always have what you want, Vua domain Rapuung –“

He could just see her visage in focus, close enough to touch if he were to strain upwards hard enough, close enough to claim those lips and –
Another jolt of severity in the form of pleasure, almost made him yelp with surprise as it wracked his tormented body. He jerked upwards in his bonds, tendons in his arms screaming in protest, the creature was beginning to tire, but it had not released him completely – but it would have to eventually.
Mezhan Kwaad had now surreptitiously placed herself so tantalizingly close, that he could feel the sumptuous wet-heat of her sex resting teasingly against the head of his engorged cock. He thrust upwards instinctively, his every synapse burning in the sweet agony of his rawest desires.
He needed her, he needed her now!

But it was in such an action that the shaper – temptress as she was – moved away, a deceitful glint in her shimmering eyes.

“-Sometimes you have to grasp at what you want with both hands.” She finished, then crushed her lips against his, tongue moving between his lips to seek out his own. He responded in kind, tongue duelling for a sublime sense of dominance over the one aspect of this situation he might have some control over.

If he could just free one arm, he could turn this little game around twice as quick.

The shaper pulled back from him breathless and somewhat dishevelled, her headdress a chaotic mass of uncoordinated tentacles, which flailed one moment and coiled down to reach out to the warrior the next. Mezhan Kwaad could not be certain weather this unnerved Rapuung, or if he found it strangely hypnotic. His expression was unreadable, feral almost – as though he would break free at any moment.

Vua Rapuung smiled inwardly at the look of confusion upon Mezhan Kwaad’s face. He would break free eventually – soon even – he would take her, bury his throbbing erection to the hilt inside of her tight heat. He so longed to savour that deeply sublime sensation again, to bury his face in her serpentine coils and take in her scent as he embraced her as the lovers – Yun-Txiin and Yun-Qaah once did.
While he still drew breath, he would dare the gods’ wrath one last time – for he knew not what he would return to in his grashal this night.
But that was not important right now, all that mattered was this, the here and now.

Through the alluring and overtly distracting feel of Mezhan Kwaad’s body heat, her close proximity to him as one could be without touching, Vua Rapuung felt the embrace-like creature binding him, release it’s snag-hold around his ankles lessen slightly, and blood flow return to normal with painful speed to the worn feet below where the grip had once been tight.
Little spikes of needle-like pain and prickles of exquisite irritation, tickled the souls of his feet persistently for a few minutes, Vua Rapuung was forced to hide their effect for the duration of those few moments. He could not let the shaper know just yet, that he was another step closer to freeing himself. Instead he revelled in the ache of his muscles as they sung an ode to pain in their glorious agony – a testament to having been placed in the embrace of pain.

Mezhan Kwaad’s shapers hand raked fiery, lust filled torment down his body in trails, magnifying his pain. Wherever that cruel yet dexterous hand went, a new sensation would soon blossom in its wake – it was, he thought, her art, a shapers speciality was the workings of all organic life, gifted to them by Yun-Ne’shel herself. So what would be the consequences of her actions?
Surely Yun-Ne’shel would not allow a shaper of Mezhan Kwaad’s status, to use her skills in such a way? Surely any shaper, regardless of rank, would pay with their lives for such actions?

His thoughts were quashed in an instant when the object of his thoughts captured his mouth in another passionate kiss, nipping at his lower lip as she did so. Taking in her scent was like experiencing the narcotic fragrance of fresh spark-bee honey, it sent his nerves tingling with anticipation of a longing thirst about to be quenched. He ached to the core with the want of it, his need to be inside her, and when she pulled away, hand still tracing the scars upon his chest, he saw in her eyes that she knew what this was doing to him – a quiescent acknowledgement unspoken.

Her maa’it’s sparkled curiously in the dull light of the vivarium; perhaps she had sensed his motives after all?
It was as Vua Rapuung thought this that the same prickling sensation he had experienced in his feet, began to painfully afflict his arms and legs too. Within seconds of the creatures grip relaxing, his limbs were awash with the needle-like pain of blood flow returning to normal within the restrained parts of his body. As the blood flowed, pulsing with every beat of his heart, it slowly fell into a steady dialogue with his breathing – could Mezhan Kwaad sense that? No doubt she would.

The creature however, had almost certainly relaxed all it was going to, and that meant he would be able to slip his wrists free if he so wished. He had felt it loosen its grip bit by bit as it fell into a comfortable unconsciousness. That was all the warrior needed to know, he’d waited long enough.

Tearing his hands free, he ignored the searing torment that burst alight inside his strained limbs. Rising as much as he could, taking the shaper into a harsh but protective embrace as he freed his legs, Rapuung did not stop to wonder why Mezhan Kwaad did not resist him, why she had not struck out at him with all eight of her finger-spears for disobeying her.
The shapers hands were all over him, roving over the contours of his sweat-sheened back as he reversed the situation on her, igniting nerves and synapses that caused strained muscles to prickle with tiny white-hot explosions of pain. The shaper then wrapped her legs around his waist as he rose with her still placed firmly in is embrace.

Keen to get away from the place that had once been his makeshift prison, Vua Rapuung carried Mezhan Kwaad somewhat awkwardly over to an adjacent coral work-surface. With all the tact of his crèche brother – Hul Rapuung – the warrior cleared the surface with one wide sweep of an arm. Specimen bulbs and tissue samples of brilliant vibrant colours and textures clattered to the floor loudly in a disorganized heap – lucky for him then, that none had broken this time.
Ignoring the shambolic mess, he placed the shaper down gently upon the smooth marble-like surface. It was only now he pulled away, near panting with pure lustful desire, to observe the wry expression the master shaper wore upon her striking features.

“You knew.” He uttered in a tone that was barely a whisper, when he was certain there was not so much of a shred of surprise in that carefully set expression of hers.

“I knew.” She admonished with just a hint of smugness lacing her words, her tendrils coiling to frame her pallid face.

She had known all along that he would be free to move, every action she had taken during this little deception, had been to work him up to this moment. She had played him as a seer would expertly pluck at the strings of a musical saat’k. His eyesacs darkened with outrage, deepening in hue until near-purple, yet not one shred of fear or caution showed upon the shapers tattooed face. Mezhan Kwaad merely quirked a brow-ridge in question – or was it a dare?

A challenge was something every warrior could understand clearly, be this through instruction, battle or other pursuits, the premise was still the same – only the weak and shamed backed down from challenges in favour of dishonour. And Vua Rapuung was neither of those.

Growling deep in a basso response, he claimed her lips once more, trailing kisses down from her mouth to the vulnerable, delicate flesh of her neck.
The shaper too responded with an almost contented sound, though her headdress portrayed an outward display of impatience, his need for her had not lessened in the slightest, and the shaper could feel his arousal-hardened shaft press firmly against her inner thigh. Her hands, both talloned and multi-implemented, clawed needily at his back as she writhed in sublime awareness beneath his feverous ministrations. Sharpened teeth nipped at the fragile lobe of her ear, drawing beads of incarnadine fluid to pearl on the surface of her skin.

The shaper took the pain as well as any warrior would have, Rapuung noted with considerable admiration, while others may not see the perfection he saw in his choice of mate, he was certain that, caste aside, others could appreciate the hidden traits of the Yuuzhan Vong woman just as much as he did – though perhaps not in the same way. Not so much as a hiss escaped her lips, she only held him closer, her warm, pallid skin feeling so indescribably good against his own. He needed not further hesitation; he’d waited too long already.

Drawing back slightly for positions sake, he rose up a little, anticipating the angle of her hips before sliding his throbbing member deep into the welcoming wet heat of her sex. Nothing, no formal training against instinctive reactions, nor the threat of consequence could prepare the shaper for the exquisite sensation of him filling her tight vessel to the hilt.
She felt a warm electric twinge course through her body, like the agonistic sting of a provoker spineray’s bite, giving birth to a sudden gasp and moan of pained pleasure before she had chance to quell it. The warrior too, felt his equivalent, facilitated by her sudden tense of muscle around him, and barely managed to stifle a cry of pure elated excitement born of his own actions. For a moment he rested there, afraid that due to the severe degree of the build up to this, that he may peak too soon. But the shaper it seemed, was in no mood to wait around, she’d waited long enough for this too and had begun slow, alluring tempting hip thrusts upwards, taking him as deep as he could go against the motion, until the warrior found himself picking up the pace into a steady rhythm of his own.

Mezhan Kwaad, hands still roving the toned surfaces of his body, relied on the various sensory nodes upon her hands to almost feed her own arousal, sensing the increased sensory overload, the rapid biorhythms of her lover. It served to spur her on, make her feel more alive than she ever had! She only hoped whatever fraction of the pain-mixed pleasure she gave back with her most intimate of implants, made Vua Rapuung feel just as sublimely euphoric.

The warriors’ eyes had almost lost all sense of focus they had ever once held, and they remained more closed now than open. Lost in the plethora of magnificent sensations as he was, Vua Rapuung found it hard to believe he had ever doubted Mezhan Kwaad’s intentions towards him, that he had found so much to doubt in terms of her loyalty to the true way. But as he ground his spitefully spike-implanted hips against hers in sweet abandon, as her cruel and torturously wonderful hand broke the flesh of his back to create deep and bloody fissures – that would, no doubt, form fantastically prominent new scars – he found himself wondering for the most minute of seconds, would Yun-Ne’shel not seek to curse one who used her gifts for such deeply selfishly forbidden acts?
The thought had come back to haunt him, only to be pushed aside by a sense of euphoria as he feverously thrust into her again and again.
A loud moan of ecstatic pleasure snapped his attention firmly back where it should be, feeling his own arousal near on the boarders of its peak, he continued to pound into her, faster, harder.

Reciprocating as she was, Mezhan Kwaad could feel her pleasurable tension rise to an almost unbearable point, and she found herself grasping at the bone-seeded coral spikes that protruded from each of the warrior’s sturdy hips, holding him steadfast and revelling in the pain the action caused when it merged with the intense pleasure coursing through her aching form.
At her core, she felt the tension rise, blinding her to all else around her until it engulfed her senses completely with wave after wave of intense sensation gripped her body with the rapturous effects of orgasm.

Incomprehensible words spilled forth from her mouth, giving no mind to the fact that any of the damutek’s adepts or initiates could have heard her – No less, her testament to the one form of shaping forbidden to them all.
Her breath fell in ragged gasps towards the end, revelling in the last ebbs of the spasm within.

Feeling the shaper beneath him tense around him, her vessel tightening further around his hard member, caused his own nerves to ignite and burn agonistically as he felt the bite of some secreted implant reacting to one of his own. He could hold back no longer as the glorious sensation bathed him in the purest pain he’d felt since his escalation, and the warrior too, tensed in orgasm, his seed tearing forth furiously into her eager warmth. Crushing his lips against Mezhan Kwaad’s, Vua Rapuung silenced them both, out of concern for their discovery. When next they drew breath, both sweat-sheened and trembling, both found the other lost for words.
What could be said after all, that they had not just expressed in actions? Even Mezhan Kwaad’s shapers headdress lay surprisingly placid, calm and unresponsive.
It was a surreal moment, the shaper thought, where both seemed content just to rest where they were, entwined around the other and basking in the afterglow of what had transpired between them. For these few moments, at least, she felt secure and certain.

Vua Rapuung was the first to rise from their unusual resting place, shifting unsteadily sideways to rest against the crude work surface, knocking several more specimen bulbs and a portable qasah to the floor in his cumbersome and exhausted state.
Propping himself up on his elbows, the warrior ran a hand through the lanky crop of black hair that adorned the top-most part of his head in disarray. He almost started, embarrassingly so, when he felt the shapers’ eight fingered hand upon his bloody shoulder.

Mezhan Kwaad sat up just enough to be level with him, her breathing still somewhat shallow, breathless as she began to idly tend to those wounds she considered of such a nature that they would cause undue attention to be cast Rapuung’s way. Some could be put down to a number of devotional pursuits, many of which would serve as an ideal alibi – should he care to furnish one. But there was no disguising the marks of a shaper, and it was these wounds she tended to now.

Still languishing in the delightful aftermath, she leaned closer, resting her chin between coral implant and his neck as he sat up to further, to allow her to tend to him.
Lips dancing lightly over his tattooed skin, she spoke without due thought,

“Stay.”

With her eyes she saw him begin to respond in kind, but something in him changed then, some barrier that masked his true feelings from view behind a warrior’s façade. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her with a sigh that caused his ragged nostrils to flare some.

“I cannot, too much time has passed since my leaving the grashal, and I have already been missed.” He explained somewhat sternly, noting the shapers’ tendrils rouse and bristle at the commanding tone he had taken with her.

Rapuung was already collecting up the remains of his still-healing garments when Mezhan Kwaad deigned to reply,
“I have dealt with Hul Rapuung,” She persisted adamantly.

The warrior did not look her way, his emotions warred enough inside of him as it were, and to look at her would sway him.

“Was it not you who wished me to leave?” He queried in a blunt tone only a warrior could use.

Mezhan Kwaad’s chin rose in a mark of defiance.

“It was.”

“Then I go.” He replied, yet again in that tone synominous with warriors species wide.

She wanted to ask him what his sudden change in attitude was all about, why he was doing this, if she would see him again. But the warriors were not the only stubbornly proud caste among the Yuuzhan Vong. The master shaper was becoming irritated, and unforgivably concerned.

“Hul Rapuung, he will question you?” She inquired icily, “If he knows…”

Vua Rapuung looked her in the eye then, hands tying the living sash that held his tattered loin-cloth in place.

“I too will deal with my crèche brother, it will be as you say, he will know nothing.” His voice sounded more reassuring this time, a hint of his previous warmth seeping into his words, however blunt they had been.

Unable to give voice to her pitiful wants, her needs, Mezhan Kwaad gave a single not of satisfaction, though she wondered if Rapuung could understand the subtle knotting of her tendrils, proving that she was less than just that – satisfied.

Unlike his lover, the warrior was obviously satisfied that his time here was at an end. He motioned towards the shaper to open the membrane that sealed the chamber so as to take his leave of her. And she did so, not bothering to recover the skin-hugging oozhith that still lay discarded upon the shimmering floor.
When Vua Rapuung had begun his walk, he had barely reached the membrane in the adjoining chamber, when words sprang forth from Mezhan Kwaad’s mouth.

“Vua Rapuung…”

The warrior turned to look back at her, gaze cast back over one shoulder, reminiscent of the day they had met and she had taken her leave. He paused to hear what she had to say.

“I – “

How ironic the words should hitch in her throat this time, two minds, sensible and emotional warring within her for primacy.

“I….have seen to those wounds that may cause suspicion among your peers.” Inwardly, she felt the knot of self loathing grow and twist inside of her.

Rapuung nodded once, brow arched in what looked like a saddened amusement,

“This I already know.” He said, and then turned and passed out of sight with two fluid movements of the membrane before him.