As the minutes while by, Aron seems to be exploring at random, tracing long fingers lightly over books and across shelves with a disinterested look in his eye. "It's a nice town to be on the run in. Nobody much cares who you were if you've got gold. That's not to say nobody will try to kill you if you have gold. There's a sweet spot where you have enough gold for people to want to get it out of you peacably by services but not enough to make killing you worth the effort given your strength. An interesting society," he says, pausing in his loop. "Yes. Here." He pulls out a pair of books, dropping them casually on the floor, and pulling a small bag out of a recess in the wall behind them before opening and peering in. "Just a few small rubies," he says. "Well, it wasn't a very prosperous ship, now was it? Now, that mage-" Aron glances at the mostly-stilled bulge in Delia's midsection. "I've never much been one for magic. For me, meat's meat, and flavor's flavor, and all the... spiritual aspects I expect can take care of themselves."<br/><br/>Seeing the flare of anger, Aron smiles a little, but doesn't back away. "If she is who I think she is, she has somewhat of a blind spot where it comes to Imperials, or anyone she thinks is an Imperial, or anyone standing between her and an Imperial. I wouldn't advise wearing Imperial armor near her when she's wounded, disoriented, or just waking up, either," the drow advises. "But there will be others, I'm sure. Not a lot of likely looking braves among this crew, but in Freeport? Who can say." The smile gets a little thinner at the use of the word efficient, oddly, and Aron's ears twitch once. "I decided it'd be foolish of me to stay close to you when I had the chance to be an assassin. ALmost like old times. It worked, though it might well not have. Probably a silly risk all considered." Aron judges his own performance dispassionately. drumming fingers against the wooden wall of the cabin. "I should be satisfied that it worked, and yet..."<br/><br/>He trails off as Delia puts her hand on his stomach; the drow's belly, like Delia's, protrudes uncovered out from under the tattered roughspun prison garb that was in no way able to contain two people's worth of flesh inside it. In response to the touch, the bulge shifts slightly, and weakly, and the succubus can faintly hear an angry human male voice haranguing both her and the unconcerned drow with the fate they'll be likely to reap for an act of 'piracy'. "Just a second, if you would," Aron says politely- before ducking away and locking the luckless captain's cabin door to ensure their privacy. That done, he takes off the rest of his shirt, showing off a lean, scarred body above the swaying bulge. Ears erect, he sits down and then lays down on the bed without the need for much in the way of extra persuasion. "Ahh." He says, relaxing- but not shutting his eyes at the succubus's massage. "At least he'll stop complaining..."<br/><br/>He trails off, right as the feeling of pleasure at Delia's massage goes beyond the simple joy of a meal being kneaded through his taut dark skin but reaches something a little deeper. One pale eyebrow raises. "One of your spiritual tricks, I take it?" He asks... sounding bored, though Delia can feel his heartbeat speed up and the skin flush invisibly under her hands. Taking in a ragged gasp, he shuts his eyes, back arching to press the captain's form into Delia's hands. His soul's a tough one to get a hold of, though the captain's underneath her seems a little more pliable... he doesn't notice the little interrruption, of course, as Delia holds a brief byplay with her own meal. He seems willing enough to play along and let the succubus enjoy herself, but as Delia does she can sense that Aron is much, much older than he looks- and he's accumulated enough sin to act as a beacon for her infernal senses. It's a compelling mixture, and one that goads her forward as she presses against the legs dangling off the captain's bed.<br/><br/>As she draws out the drow's soul and begins suckling on it, it's a delectable morsel- dark and rich with past evils, so that while not as energy-laden as the mage's it presents its own temptations. It does, however, seem to slip through her fingers a few times whenever she gets it in her mouth for more than a few seconds as though it were an eel slipping through her fingertips. Aron's smile isn't entirely due to the pleasure; he feels as though he's... meditating? And thinking about not thinking, in a way that made it difficult to keep hold of him. It made for a diverting little game, trying to keep hold of his essence long enough to properly tease it. Was this the best the drow could do, or was he holding back just in case one fine night Delia decided to play for keeps? While it was hard to say, the chase was exciting enough in its own way even without the intention of claiming the drow for her own.<br/><br/>Laughter gurgles up from Delia's stomach as the mage slops around in the increasingly hostile stomach. "I helped do it, you infernal slut. And I'd rather die than set one like you free. You think you've won by beating me?" She laughs, a hollow, wet sound, and says no more. And then Delia feels a slight prick as she shifts position- looking down, Aron's holding a very sharp, short dagger so that it juuuuust barely touches the inside of her thigh, right on top of a major artery. And he's definitely smirking, just a little.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Chira snorts, hoofing the deck of the ship. "She took a foolish risk," the centaur declares. "She should listen to the soldiers among us when it comes to war. If I need advice on pleasing a man, I will ask the succubus whose specialty that is. Pleasure is good- but it must come after business." She gives the sailors another venomous glare, before softening a little. "Victory... is never assured until every single enemy is dead or dying. While any still has a weapon and the will to use it?" She shakes her head and sweeps the thoroughly cowed (but perhaps not horsed) sailors as she continues talking. Indeed, as Xarius feels the side of Chira's side, he can sense the shape of the people inside only dimly. Instead, there seems to be mostly fluid inside her stomach, hanging and swaying as more a tight fleshy sac of ooze than a bag containing two people. If the soldiers weren't already dead, they were all but- and anything less resilient than metal (and perhaps not even that) was probably irreparably corroded given how quickly her body processed flesh. She doesn't back away, though, from Xarius's touch or his exploratory touch tracing around her stomach- a slight narrowing of the eyes the major sign that anything other than brute efficiency was on her mind.<br/><br/>"I suppose..." Chira says, "That once upon a time as a younger foal, I did. Of course, I rarely ate meat back then before the Imperials came," she reminds herself with a brief snarl. "Still, there were a few times where I- understand, I enjoy this-" she clenches her muscles, squeezing her stomach a few inches tighter; Xarius can feel the muffled crack of something either bone or metal snapping under the onslaught. "-in a different way than you mean. To have enemies inside my stomach is to be protecting my allies. In the end, that is its own pleasure, and I think a more worthy one than what the demoness preaches." A prudishly disapproving snort. "And one that can be done properly in full armor. Still, I don't..." she sighs. "I could probably let myself enjoy such a thing, but not while we are all in danger. The idea is- appealing, in a way. I've been a warrior and a general for long enough that the idea of rest and relaxation without any tactical- entanglements is a little foreign." She admits.<br/><br/>"She's so hung up she can't hang out," Mona calls out, before starting to feast on her meal. Chira wrinkles her nose in either confusion or distaste, but doesn't object as the mostly-human fire mage goes about procuring her own reward. She definitely takes her time, and from the sidelong glances coming from Mona she's putting on a little show for him as well. Taking one hand, she guides it to the soldier's bared thigh, letting him help Mona's meal on its way. It passes into her mouth along with the soldier's legs, and she twists her tongue around Xarius's hand with a coy wink before letting him disengage it and swallowing the rest of his legs down with an audible sigh of pleasure. "Yes. Nicely seared, indeed. Brings out the flavor, though most disagree-" She pauses and gives Chira a bright little smile, though the centaur doesn't reply.<br/><br/>"Mmm. Not too late to offer yourself up," Mona says with lidded eyes, embracing Xarius a little tighter. "I haven't had two people inside me in years. You could... rub down this meal from the inside. You're strong, you'd last a lot longer than he would." She's teasing, and from the glint in her eye she doesn't expect to be taken seriously- but if offered, well, who'd turn down a free meal? Leaning in as best she can over her weakly struggling stomach bulge, she gives Xarius a long lick up the side of the feline's face before letting her lips drift to a more conventional place on his face for a quick kiss. After breaking for air, Mona purrs, "I'm holding back my acids as best I can, so that this soldier can experience as much of your... rubdown as possible."<br/><br/>Chira snorts. "I'll watch the soldiers. Should I tell the succubus you require instruction?"<br/><br/>"No," Mona says airily, "I'm pretty sure I know just what to do." With a predatory smile on her face, she leads Xarius out of the bottom deck, wobbling- and when it comes time to navigate the stairs uback up to the mid-deck, sh has to turn sideways and awkwardly squeeze herself through. They do eventually get to the cargo bay though, and after looking down the deck to the empty cells she instead walks behind a stack of rum crates. "Not a lot of padding," she muses, starting to strip her clothes off, "But I think this soldier might be padding enough for the both of us."