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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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Mutually Beneficial

In which Senator Brendol Hux finds himself in a situation, courtesy of one Senator Kylo Ren. This is a gift for my lovely friend Sierra, who helped me through a situation recently. Anyway, enjoy!

Senator Brendol Hux lets out a startled noise when he finds himself suddenly shoved against the wall. It takes him a second to realize who is behind the assault, but once he does he’s no more reassured than he’d been before. His fellow senator Ben Solo (or “Kylo Ren”, as he prefers to be called) smirks at him, easily holding him by the shoulders and keeping him pressed flush against the wall. Kylo has a few advantages; he’s easily two inches taller than Hux and several pounds heavier. Even if the redhead tried, he doubts he’d be able to escape the other senator’s grip. He glances around for help, but the hallway is mysteriously empty-possibly a side effect of Kylo being gifted with the Force. “Hello, Brendol,” Kylo’s voice is gentler than usual, but that only sets Hux even more on edge.

“What do you want?” He snaps. He figures this is about the “necessary compromises” speech he’d given earlier in the week. It probably hadn’t been a good idea to keep his eyes fixed on Kylo for most of it, but at the time he hadn’t considered the potential consequences. Besides, Kylo was being more difficult than usual about that particular situation.

Hux lets out another surprised noise, jerked from his thoughts when he’s suddenly spun around and pushed through a door and into a broom closet. Kylo shuts the door behind them, leaving them with only inches to spare between their chests.

“You.” Kylo smirks. Hux rolls his eyes, taking a second to wonder why this sort of thing always happens to him. He’s never heard of any of his colleagues being manhandled and shoved into a cramped broom closet against their will. He suddenly registers what Kylo had said, and his eyes widen.

“Alright, who cloned the real Kylo and replaced him with you?” Hux crosses his arms over his chest, meeting Kylo’s gaze levelly. There’s no way he’ll ever let Kylo see the way his hands are shaking; the other man never needs to know how nervous Hux is. Kylo doesn’t respond verbally, instead grabbing Hux by the shoulders again and kissing him firmly on the lips. The redhead jerks away in surprise, though there isn’t anywhere for him to go, and stares at the other man, wide-eyed. “No, seriously, who replaced the real Kylo with you?” Hux braces a hand on the taller man’s chest just in case the other senator tries to kiss him again.

“No one cloned me, Hux.” Kylo’s tone is gentle, so unlike his usual harsh snarl that Hux has to look away. “I know this is weird.” The redhead can’t help giving Kylo a look that says, no, really? “I like you.” Kylo sighs, relaxing against Hux as if some burden has been lifted from his shoulders by the utterance of the words. Hux blinks mutely a few times, trying to come up with a response. How is one supposed to respond when their political rival suddenly confesses to liking them?

“Yeah. Okay. This is some be-nice-to-me-cause-I-want-something deal, isn’t it? What, you want me to back down on the trade agreement?” Hux rolls his eyes. He might actually agree to something like that at this point, just to get himself out of this closet. This situation is rapidly becoming weirder than he’s comfortable with.

“No- I mean, I can see why you would think that, that’s actually a decent strategy, but I promise that’s not what this is.” Kylo shakes his head almost frantically. “I just…I like you. I’ve got a crush on you, alright?” His brown eyes have a sudden intensity to them that makes Hux reluctant to look away.

“Stars, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Hux sighs dramatically, leaning back against the wall of the closet. Kylo blinks at him, unsure how to take this reaction. “Why couldn’t you approach me about this over lunch or something? You know, like a normal person.” Hux rolls his eyes, his tone sharp. Kylo shrugs, still seemingly unsure of himself.

“I- I mean I could have. But I didn’t think you would go out to lunch with me.” Kylo stammers, letting go of Hux’s shoulders. “But I mean- If you wanted to.” Hux smirks at him, enjoying how flustered he’s gotten.

“Mm, maybe I would,” Hux purrs, pressing his apparent advantage.He’s too amused by the way Kylo’s cheeks flush red at his tone to regret being flirtatious. “What else would you like to have me do, besides take you to lunch?” He’s toeing the line of what’s appropriate now, but figures it’s only fair. After all, he’s not the one who got them into this situation.

“I- I don’t know. Depends what...what you’re offering.” Kylo’s voice is soft, and he fidgets slightly before seemingly making a decision. Hux suddenly finds himself pressed against the wall again, Kylo’s face inches away. “Tell me what you would have me do.” There’s no trace of uncertainty left in Kylo’s demeanor now; even his voice is back to its usual rough cadence. It’s Hux’s turn to flush as he wishes he had half the control Kylo does; he has to clear his throat before even attempting to respond, flustered by the sudden closeness.

“I don’t know.”” Hux clears his throat again. “I’ve never thought about you that way.” It’s not strictly true, but Kylo doesn’t need to know that. “Maybe I would have you kiss me.” He amends after a moment in the face of Kylo’s intense gaze. Kylo smirks, that gaze still never leaving Hux’s. His grip on Hux’s shoulders is almost tight enough to hurt, but the redhead doesn’t really feel like escaping now. This is more intriguing than he’d thought it would be. “Maybe I would let you do more.” Hux lowers his voice, looking up at Kylo through his eyelashes. He doesn’t know where this is coming from, but he continues, “I bet you’re going to get off to this later, aren’t you?” Kylo blushes, looking away in embarrassment.

“Probably.” He doesn’t even bother trying to pretend that this isn’t affecting him. Hux smirks; this is one of the rare times when he knows for sure that he has an advantage over the other man, and he’s not about to waste it.

“I wish I’d known you had a thing for me sooner, Kylo” He purrs, again pressing his advantage. “I would have already made you do so much to me.” Kylo actually shudders, his hands sliding from Hux’s shoulders and down his arms to his hips. Hux lowers his voice again, watching the other senator bite his lip. “Bet I could make you get on your knees for me.” He grins when Kylo nods, gasping when the other senator suddenly kisses him again, rougher this time. “Ah, I could, hm?” He leans back against the wall, resting a hand on Kylo’s shoulder. Their eyes meet again.

“You know how to talk dirty?” Kylo asks, voice rough with arousal. Hux nods, smiling when Kylo presses a little closer. “Do that and you’ll get me off.”

“I didn’t say you could tell me what to do.” Hux smirks, watching Kylo’s expression shift. Of course, he would possibly get to watch Kylo come in his pants, which would be its own reward… “I may need a little convincing to get started.” He relents, barely finished speaking before Kylo is kissing him again, sliding his tongue past Hux’s lips easily and making the redhead gasp. One of his hands slides from Hux’s hip to his ass, making Hux let out a quiet moan despite himself. “That’s good, Kylo,” He almost purrs, letting Kylo pin him flush against the wall.

He can’t deny that he’s intrigued by the thought of getting Kylo off. Hux enjoys being in a position of relative power over the other man, though he figures he’ll probably regret this later. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat again before starting to speak. “I bet you want me to do all sorts of filthy things to you, hmm?” He runs a hand through Kylo’s hair slowly, smirking. “Is there anything filthier than getting you off here, where anyone could catch us?” He tilts his head.

“Probably not.” Kylo mumbles, pressing his face against Hux’s neck. “Keep going,” he commands, as if Hux needs any extra motivation.

“Mm, I know you must have had dirtier fantasies... How long have you wanted to fuck me?” Hux asks, continuing before Kylo can answer. “I bet you would love it if I said I’d get on my knees and suck your cock.” Kylo tenses, and he groans audibly against Hux’s neck. Hux tightens his grip on the other senator’s shoulders, refusing to acknowledge how much he enjoys the feeling of Kylo’s breath against his skin. His neck has always been a sensitive area; he’d become a whining mess within seconds if Kylo did more than just breathe on it. “But I’m not going to be the one on my knees. You’re going to worship me, Kylo. It’s going be you on your knees, sucking-”

Kylo skips kissing entirely, his teeth sliding over Hux’s skin as he bites down hard enough to leave a mark. Hux shudders and lets out a moan loud enough to easily be heard from outside the closet. His free hand claps over his own mouth a second later, and he blushes, unwilling to look Kylo in the eyes. “So that’s what drives you crazy, huh?” Kylo presses Hux against the wall again, one arm curled around the small of his back to support him. “Knew I’d figure it out eventually.” Hux bites his lip, trying to still his racing heart. “I’d keep doing that, but I really want you to keep talking to me.” Kylo smirks, entirely too satisfied with himself. “That and I’d rather not get caught.”

Hux recovers enough control to roll his eyes, pushing his embarrassment aside. “Yeah, yeah, alright, you got me, good for you. The point is, you like the thought of getting on your knees for me. That’s probably one of your favorite fantasies, isn’t it?” He makes himself meet the other senator’s gaze steadily, hiding any trace of insecurity.

“Why wouldn’t I like the thought of that?” Kylo tilts his head, a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. Hux shrugs, willing to play along even if Kylo is teasing.

“Regardless, I am glad you’ve accepted that I am in charge.” Hux lowers his voice again, sliding his hand downwards from Kylo’s shoulder and across his chest. “Because I am in charge, and you will answer to me. Enjoy pinning me against the wall while it lasts; it’s never happening again.” Hux is hardly surprised when Kylo kisses him again, roughly this time, pressing closer. His hands move from Hux’s back to his lower stomach and then back again restlessly; Hux pulls away from the kiss moments later and smirks. “Would you like to do something else with those hands? You seem undecided.” Kylo blushes again, looking away for a moment.

“You should know what I want to do.” His voice is rough with arousal, deeper than usual, and Hux almost shudders at the sound. He keeps his self-control instead, wordlessly guiding one of Kylo’s hands to his belt buckle.

“I already know what you’re going to do, Kylo. It only depends on how long you take to figure it out.” Hux relaxes against the wall, smirking when Kylo immediately fumbles at the buckle, clumsily undoing it. “You’re on the right track,” Hux smirks, watching Kylo undo his slacks. “Except I want you on your knees. Like we discussed.” He rests a hand on the other senator’s shoulder, pressing down slightly; a clear cue that the order is effective immediately.

Kylo drops to his knees in a surprising show of obedience, looking up at Hux with an unreadable expression. The redhead smirks, moving his hand from the other senator’s shoulder to his hair and tugging slightly. “May I?” Kylo asks, hooking his fingers over the waistband of Hux’s slacks, his intentions clear. The redhead hesitates only a moment before nodding, allowing Kylo to remove both his pants and boxers.

“You know what I want.” Hux prompts the other man after a moment of silence. Kylo stops staring at Hux’s cock to look up and affirm the redhead’s statement with a nod. “So come on then.” Hux tugs Kylo’s hair again, groaning when the other senator obeys, running his tongue along the length of Hux’s cock. “Like that, just like that,” Hux encourages, his breath hitching when Kylo looks up to meet his eyes.

Hux has to slap a hand over his own mouth to keep himself from moaning loudly enough to get them caught when Kylo skips the usual gentle teasing altogether, instead jumping straight to putting as much in his mouth as will fit. The man knows what he’s doing, Hux will give him that. “Fuck, Kylo, just like that,” he encourages once he trusts his own voice enough to keep steady.

Kylo hums in acknowledgement, sending a wave of pleasure up Hux’s spine. It doesn’t take long before Hux is forced to admit just how close to climax he’s getting. “Let me come down your throat.” He commands, arching his back off of the wall. Kylo hums again, steadying himself with a hand on Hux’s thigh. Hux is just aware enough to clap a hand over his own mouth again just before he orgasms, vision almost whiting out entirely from the pleasure.

“Good?” Kylo pulls away with a satisfied smirk, standing up to steady the other senator. Hux nods, shaking slightly in the afterglow.

“I owe you a reward.” Hux speaks as soon as he can trust his voice not to shake. Kylo nods. “Not here though. You’ll get us both caught. Tonight instead. I’ll get a hotel room or something.” He almost can’t believe he’s saying the words even as they leave his mouth. Kylo nods. Hux smiles. Maybe this situation will turn out to be more mutually beneficial than Hux had first though.

#kylux #senator AU #nsfw #for Sierra

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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Logan moves to leave shortly after they’ve finished, partly out of instinct, and partly because he knows far better by now than to overstay his welcome. Jeffrii catches his arm, pulling him back into the bed. “Stay.” He mumbles half into the pillow. Logan bites his lip, glancing from Jeffrii-who’s still holding his arm-to Mac, who seems very comfortable and not at all like he plans to move any time soon. Still, Logan gets the feeling that ‘stay’ is not something that Jeffrii’s lovers hear very often.

“Fine.” He nods anyway, because he doesn’t want to leave alone, and he doesn’t want to disappoint Jeffrii. The reporter gives him a half-smile (most of it is hidden by the pillow anyway) and shifts closer to Mac to give Logan ample room to join them. Jeffrii doesn’t reach out for him once he’s settled in bed (that would be too intimate, really), but he doesn’t seem to mind when Mac wraps an arm around him loosely. Logan guesses that the reporter prefers being the little spoon, and almost wishes he’d stayed in bed and kept that for himself rather than giving Mac the opportunity to claim the position. Still, it’s not as if this isn’t pleasant-just unexpected.

#Jeffrii/Logan #well i guess its Jeffrii/Logan/Mac but #w/e

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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here’s a whole fucking bunch of the writing prompts things, thanks babe lmao

Jeffrii/Kasey

2: Hot kiss

Kasey gasps, startled out of his thoughts when Jeffrii leans over the table and kisses him sensually, slipping his tongue past Kasey’s slightly parted lips. “Jeffrii.” Kasey scrambles to catch hold of his partner’s wrists, holding him in place when they part. “What was that?” He’s blushing, Jeffrii notes with some satisfaction.

“You’re my boyfriend.” He shrugs. “I can kiss you whenever I want.” He can’t keep from smirking slightly as he speaks. Kasey blinks rapidly, his blush deepening.

“I know, but not- not like that, Jeffrii.” Kasey, normally so well put together, stutters. Jeffrii’s smirk widens.

“Like what, then? Like this?” He gives hardly any warning before leaning in to kiss Kasey again, even deeper this time. Kasey melts into the kiss, not bothering to argue anymore. Jeffrii smirks against his lips, very satisfied with himself.

17: Love bite

“Kasey...I want to focus on you, but I need to finish this first,” Jeffrii sighs, looking up at his lover. Kasey pouts slightly, but nods, pulling away from him. They often make a game out of teasing each other, seeing who breaks first, but they always step away when asked. As much as Jeffrii appreciates Kasey’s attention, he can’t afford to waste time on this project. Still...as soon as Kasey pulls away, Jeffrii misses him. “Come back…” he sighs after a moment.

Kasey chuckles, moving to stand behind Jeffrii’s chair again, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I won’t be too distracting, promise…” He purrs, leaning down to kiss along his partner’s neck again. Jeffrii relaxes into his touch, smiling, before jumping slightly when Kasey bites down roughly, hard enough to leave a mark on Jeffrii’s pale skin.

“That was very distracting,” Jeffrii smirks up at him. Kasey grins in response, leaning down to kiss him on the lips.

“I learned from you,” he teases, and Jeffrii can’t really argue with that.

Chevy/Francis

16: Naughty kiss

“Chevy, come on. We have to focus.” There’s only the barest hint of exasperation in Francis’ tone, but Chevy grins mischievously anyway, holding his lover closer and nuzzling into his neck.

“Mine.” He mumbles teasingly, moving reluctantly when Francis nudges his head up to look him in the eye.

“Yes,” Francis nods seriously. “But right now you need to be thinking of a strategy for the Senate. We need them on our side, you know.” Chevy bites his lip, sighing softly. Francis, as usual, is right, but that doesn’t make the prospect of focusing entirely on work any more pleasing.

“You’re right,” Chevy sighs softly. Francis nods, smiling. Chevy smirks, leaning in to kiss him quickly, nipping at his lower lip before pulling back.

“What- Chevy,” Francis gasps, startled, before laughing. Chevy grins.

“I’ll get started on the Senate issue now,” he nods. Francis nods agreement.

“I hope you plan to be more well-behaved regarding that, at least,” he teases. Chevy shrugs.

“We’ll see,” he replies teasingly.

24: Slow dancing

The newly elected president and vice president don’t normally dance at the inaugural ball, but Francis and Chevy have never done anything the “normal” way. “May I have this dance?” Chevy asks only half-teasingly, extending a hand to Francis. Francis nods, taking Chevy’s hand with a smile.

“Do you think this will make headlines tomorrow?” He asks softly as they dance. There’s always at least one reporter at these events. Chevy nods, smiling.

“Of course. The first of many headlines we’ll make.” He responds. Francis grins.

Dustin/Bentley

4: Drunken kiss

“Kiss me.” Bentley half-laughs, almost sliding from his chair onto the floor. Dustin rolls his eyes as much as he can, given that he’s just as drunk as his partner. Well, maybe not ‘partner’. Not quite. They’ve been on three dates so far, and Dustin actually isn’t sure how one drink turned into them getting this drunk together. “Said kiss me,” Bentley repeats insistently, pouting when Dustin doesn’t immediately respond.

“‘M gonna kiss you,” Dustin mumbles, leaning over slowly. Bentley grins and meets him halfway, kissing him sloppily. His enthusiasm makes up for his lack of technique, and Dustin smiles into the kiss.

32: Getting caught in the act

“Bentley, we shouldn’t…” Dustin sighs against Bentley’s lips, not bothering to move away when the other man pulls him close. Bentley doesn’t bother replying verbally, instead simply keeping Dustin close. They could easily get caught here; anyone could walk into the bathroom and catch them kissing, but neither of them really think it will happen.

Until Mac walks in. “Bentley?” He gasps, startled. Bentley sighs, sounding more exasperated than panicked, though Dustin can feel how tense he suddenly is.

“Mac.” Mac turns to leave. Bentley reaches out and grabs his arm. “Mac, don’t.” The other man pulls away, glaring at Bentley. “Mac, I said don’t.” Bentley repeats. Dustin sighs.

“Bentley, it’s okay.” He separates the two men. Mac exits the bathroom.

“It’s not okay, Dustin.” Bentley frowns.

“It is.” Dustin sighs again. Anyway, there’s nothing to be done about it now.

Kieran/Drew

13: Sorry kiss

“Sorry, babe.” Kieran leans up to give Drew a quick kiss in apology for not holding the door for him. Drew smiles.

“It’s fine, baby.” He responds. “I like how you always kiss me to say sorry,” he teases as they continue walking, his hand finding Kieran’s and squeezing reassuringly.

“Of course,” Kieran smiles. “I love you.” He smiles up at his partner. Drew leans down to kiss him softly.

“I love you too,” he murmurs.

30: Sharing a bath

“Come on Drew.” Kieran pulls his partner over to the already filled tub, smiling excitedly. “It’ll help you relax,” he purrs, leaning up to kiss Drew softly.

“Fine, baby.” Drew doesn’t argue, kissing Kieran back before pulling away to undress. “As if I would really turn down the opportunity to relax with you.” Granted, Kieran’s method of relaxation is usually more along the lines of sex, but this is a refreshing change. They sink into the water together, Kieran leaning on one edge of the tub and Drew on the other. “This is relaxing,” Drew smiles, enjoying the warmth of the water as well as Kieran’s company.

“Told you,” Kieran responds mildly, smirking.

“It’s just not your usual idea for relaxation,” Drew teases. Kieran’s smirk widens.

“Well, we can do that too…” he purrs. Drew grins.

Tyler/Annabelle

11: Morning kiss

“Morning, Belle.” Tyler smiles at the redhead, pleased when Annabelle falls into step beside her. They aren’t quite an “official” couple, if “official” means that the press has caught on, but Tyler considers Annabelle her girlfriend, after a few months of dating off and on.

“How are things going with Killian?” Annabelle asks without even a hint of hesitation, though by now she knows very well exactly how much Tyler hates Killian Lord. Her confidence is one of the things Tyler likes most about her.

“Don’t worry about him, Belle. I can handle him.” Tyler responds as she reaches her office. Annabelle nods. “Tell me if he says anything to you, though.” She adds after a moment. The redhead nods.

“Tyler?” Annabelle asks after a moment of silence. Tyler turns to her just in time for the shorter woman to lean up and kiss her softly. “Good morning.” She smiles. Tyler rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling too.

20: Massage

“You’re tense,” Annabelle complains, as if she’s the one who should be complaining in this situation. Tyler rolls her eyes, hardly looking up from her laptop. “I can fix it.” The redhead nods. Tyler sighs, not bothering to argue. Annabelle is very stubborn once she sets her mind to anything. A moment later she jumps when her girlfriend grabs her shoulders firmly. “Relax,” Annabelle teases. Tyler is about to respond when the redhead begins massaging her tense muscles.

“That feels good…” she sighs, trying and failing to focus on her work again.

“Good,” Annabelle smiles, continuing. “I told you you were tense.” She teases. Tyler rolls her eyes, but doesn’t comment. She has plenty of time to finish her work even with Annabelle distracting her, and besides, it is helping.

“I love you,” Tyler smiles up at her.

“I love you too,” Annabelle grins.

Alexis/Madeline

9: Awkward kiss

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Alexis smiles slightly. Madeline returns the expression, enjoying how Alexis’ smile softens her face. “How are you?” She asks softly. Madeline shrugs.

“Fine. Just trying to keep an eye on Maddox.” She chuckles. Alexis frowns, glancing away. “I didn’t come here to talk about him.” Madeline adds quickly. Alexis nods.

“Then why?” She asks simply. Madeline hesitates, then leans forward to kiss her lightly. “Don’t.” Alexis holds her at a distance, looking over her face seriously.

“I thought...we had something.” Madeline can’t keep the disappointment from her voice. Alexis shakes her head.

“We do. But not here.” She responds. Madeline shifts uncomfortably, glancing around. “It’s fine.” Alexis sighs. “Just don’t do that again here.”

31: Catching the other before they fall

Alexis is pacing again. She does it when she’s nervous, which seems to be more and more frequently nowadays. Madeline assumes it’s normal; she is running for president, after all. If anyone has a good reason to be nervous, it’s Alexis. But Alexis doesn’t like having her nerves acknowledged. Madeline knows this, Alexandre knows this-anyone who’s known Alexis for more than a day knows this. Still, Madeline hates seeing her girlfriend so anxious. “Alexis,” she sighs.

Alexis glances at her, and her heel catches the concrete. Madeline moves before she even realizes she’s doing so, stretching out her arms to catch the other woman before she hits the ground. Alexis is blushing when Madeline lets her go. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did.” Madeline chuckles softly-not laughing at Alexis, just at the situation.

“Fine.” Alexis sighs, giving in more quickly than usual. “You did.” She nods. “Thank you…” She murmurs, leaning into kiss Madeline chastely.

“You’re welcome.” Madeline nods, resisting the urge to pull her girlfriend closer.

Kylo/Hux

6: Kiss of relief

“Ren!” Hux barks, striding across the hangar. Kylo rolls his eyes, debating whether or not to simply ignore the general. He’s just returned from a mission where he’d nearly gotten killed, and he’s in no mood to deal with having his sometimes-boyfriend yell at him as well. “Come here.” Hux is even more commanding than usual, but still Kylo thinks, resentfully, of ignoring him.

“Don’t, Hux,” he growls, but before he can even finish the sentence, Hux is pulling him closer, unclasping his helmet like he’s done it a million times, and then Hux is kissing him in the middle of the hangar where anyone can see. Kylo pulls back only slightly, but Hux pulls him close again stubbornly, kissing him again.

“You could have died,” Hux sighs when Kylo pulls away again, resting his head against the knight’s chest. Kylo blinks in surprise, but stays quiet. “Let me have this, Kylo.” Hux sighs again. Kylo nods, and allows the closeness.

26: Tending an injury

“You’re such an idiot.” Kylo rolls his eyes, managing to look both concerned and exasperated at the same time. Hux grimaces, but says nothing as the knight finishes bandaging the wound. “Moron.” Kylo leans forward and brushes his lips over Hux’s cheek affectionately. Hux sighs.

“It was your saber.” He retorts mildly. Kylo smirks.

“That you were playing with. Which is against regulations.” Hux rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, Kylo. I’m fine now.”

“Thanks to me.” Kylo’s smirk widens. Hux sighs, his expression as affectionate as he can manage. He leans over to kiss the knight softly.

“Fine. Thanks to you.”

#nice #this was so much tbh #i had fun tho

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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5 and 27 for Fencer

here u go nerd

Keep reading

#reblogged

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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8 and 22 for Addikill

Keep reading

#reblogged

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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Always and Never

written for me by Cass

((AU explanation: Set in the Star Wars AU. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_D0ZQPqeJkk It is a time of crisis. With the galaxy at war, two brothers have drifted further and further apart. While KIERAN LORD has grown into a noble and valiant Jedi Knight, KILLIAN LORD has fallen from the Light Side of the Force, joining the SITH EMPIRE. Though the two remain in contact, sometimes meeting in secret, their connection to each other has grown ever more distant as Killian strays further and further into darkness. Kieran fears for his brother, always hoping to bring him back, but as yet has been unsuccessful. Now, Killian’s master, who has protected him for many years, helping him grow and prosper in the Sith ranks, has been killed. A new overlord, DARTH Volpex, has risen from the shadows to take hold of Killian’s leash, and he has issued a new order...)

Part I: I Will Call You Out From Shelter

((Please accompany with this track. Listen first or during or after. It’s the inspiration for this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXCsR6tBE-Q ))

“No. I’m not… I CAN’T kill Kieran.”

Killian was glad he’d turned away, he didn’t want his new master to see him blinking away tears. The request hung in the air like sulfur. Killian hadn’t felt terror like this, confusion like this, fear like this in years. The grating voice of the man who now held his leash echoed a whisper across the room.

“This isn’t a question. Your old master treated you with kid gloves. You Jedi always get treated like fragile glass figurines by the Darths. I will treat you like the MAN you could be.”

Volpex was not a powerfully built Sith by any means. Without his mask, he looked even less intimidating. Yet somehow, in the privacy of his chambers, he exuded a strength that overcame even Killian. No one yet believed that Volpex was in control of Killian after the death, murder, of Killian’s former master. Killian was working his way up in the Sith power structure… but every tier just had more hate and violence than the last.

“It’s my brother, and I still love him. Fuck the Jedi, fuck their code and fuck their false honor, but my brother is a good man.”

“And good men die all the time. Tell me, Killian. What does the Sith Code say? ‘Through Strength I Gain Power.’ Is that not one of the tenets? Your attachment to your brother is WEAKNESS. It’s the chain that still holds you to the Jedi. ‘Through victory, my chains are broken.’ Seize this victory, Killian, and the Force shall free you. You’ll be a true Darth. Now go. Don’t return until Kieran Lord is dead.”

Killian turned from the room, fury crumpling his brow, a tear on his cheek. His hands were bound in fists, restraining himself from throwing his lightsaber across the hall. His mind turned over and over, going nowhere and everywhere all at once.

When he entered his room, he finally broke down crying, slumping against his bed. Kieran was the only person he still loved, maybe the only person that still loved him. Certainly the only one that still saw good in him, still saw light. But Killian wasn’t that person anymore. He wasn’t good, he wasn’t light, he wasn’t a Jedi. Even in his mind the word held a bite. No, he was Sith now.

The Sith respected him. They’d seen his rise, meteoric and fiery. He’d gone from being the wayward son of the Jedi to a glorious commander of the Empire. Most of them even thought he was the one to overcome his former master, though only he and Volpex knew the truth of that. If he didn’t follow Volpex’s command, he could be outed again. Seen as weak again. He’d just be another dark Jedi.

He opened his holo-terminal. He read through secret messages Kieran had sent him. Kieran rarely sent him anything important, but in a way that made it better. Messages about the fun he’d had on a city planet. Messages about how much he enjoyed the new soap he’d found on Corellia that was just to die for. A message saying that no matter what, Killian was still his brother and he’d always love him. A message about how his new Padawan had a habit of falling into dumpsters, with a picture attached. He’d almost forgotten when Kieran had been made a Master. He’d been so proud of him that day, so sad to miss the ceremony. After all, they wouldn’t let a Sith in to such an important occasion. Not that they’d let Sith in to any occasion.

He looked at the messages he had sent to Kieran. With only a few exceptions, and a few unsent drafts, they said the same thing. “Kieran. Meet me at these coordinates. -Killian.”

His fingers quivered on the keyboard as tears scattered around it. He pulled away. Kieran meant the world to him, and though he’d never say it to the Sith, he’d destroy the galaxy to protect him. Wouldn’t he? He couldn’t kill him…. not his brother… not his twin. Right?

Minutes later, across the galaxy, Kieran’s comm beeped. A scrambled message on a secure channel, like usual, using Killian’s exact time of birth. Just a few minutes before Kieran’s. The message just said one sentence.

“Kieran. Meet me at these coordinates. -Killian.”

(End of Part I)

Part II: I Implore You, Brother!

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0ogODyzUNM))

Wind blew dust through the darkened Tatooine alleyway. The suns were both just setting, casting long shadows across doorframes and the moisture vaporators sticking up from the walls. Kieran Lord checks the time, stepping out of an adjacent room while eating a shuura fruit. He’d been surprised to find some at the bazaar earlier, and though they definitely weren’t perfect, the succulent taste was ideal in the warm Tatooine evening. He’d bought an extra one for Killian, which he was holding a satchel at his side, along with a small stone idol he’d found on Kashyyyk that he’d been meaning to give him for a while. He checked his watch again and looked around. Killian was late. Killian was never late.

Kieran blinked. Was it darker than normal? He realized as he heard the lightsaber ignite that his senses had been clouded. Caught off guard. He dodged, just barely, the saber slicing through his falling fruit. In an instant his own saberstaff, vibrant pink beams on both ends, was in his hands, as he leapt backwards. He put his back to a wall, just long enough to assess the situation and prepare to counter.

His opponent was dressed in a lightweight black tunic, a severe metallic mask on his face, with what looked like unkempt long black hair erupting from the back. He held a single red saber that seemed to crackle with raw energy, and Kieran recognized neither the blade nor the mask. His greatest fear, that Killian had been caught and this was a setup, was being realized. Kieran was more than prepared to fight.

He took a step back, and set his foot on the wall before launching off into the air. His saberstaff spun in his hands, connecting twice with his opponent’s blade as he landed behind his foe. His opponent turned quickly, unleashing a fury of strikes that managed to keep Kieran on the defensive, each of his own small spins pressing him backwards toward a wall. He needed room to move, and his opponent knew the alley would keep him from utilizing Ataru form’s large sweeping actions. His foe reached forward, pushing him back with the Force, almost throwing him into the wall.

He took it in stride, bouncing back rapidly, swirling his blade over his head before switching off one end and bringing it down hard towards his opponent, who caught it with ease. He swung his saberstaff around rapidly, switching off one blade and turning the other back on, hoping to alter his opponent’s momentum and catch him with the other side. But his enemy jumped, anticipating the change, and leaping back to continue striking. Kieran didn’t find himself on the defensive much, and this was beginning to get the best of him.

He spun around his foe, alternating his saber as he struck rapidly, trying to find some weakness. Despite his opponent’s initial aggressive form, however, he was adept with defending, his grip relaxing as he caught each strike that Kieran threw at him. He struck hard as he finished his turn, and it pushed his foe just a bit. His enemy retaliated with a burst of Force lightning, that Kieran managed to catch with his blade, but he was forced to fall back slowly. As he watched his opponent’s grip change on his blade, lowering his stance almost automatically, things began to dawn on him.

There was little to doubt. It may be more aggressive, but that’s Killian’s fighting style.

Kieran’s guard dropped immediately.

“Killian, what the fuck?”

The lightning sputters, falling away immediately, as his foe is taken aback.

“I know that’s you, seriously what the shit is wrong with you?”

The lightsaber that Killian had built on the flight here, just to deceive his brother, fell from his hand. He takes the mask off slowly, the wig along with it. The face that looked out at Kieran mirrored his own. For once, he couldn’t quite read the expression, and the emotions he was feeling from his twin’s bond was like a hurricane. Killian didn’t look at him as he greeted him.

“Hey, brother.”

Kieran still left his blades on. Until he knew what was going on, he was going to be ready.

“Kill, what the hell are you doing? You attacked me! That wasn’t fucking sparring.”

“Yeah, uh… sorry…”

“‘Sorry’?! You didn’t seem that sorry when you were trying to fry me with lightning.”

Killian started to laugh, almost like a sick man learning he had cancer might laugh, blown away by the absurdity of the moment. It didn’t even make sense to him, anymore. He had to explain, somehow.

“I… my new master. He ordered me… he said that I had to prove I wasn’t attached. That if I attacked you, it’d show it. I was going to let you go. Say you bested me but were too much of a Jedi to kill me. Just for show, you know?”

Kieran’s eyes narrowed. His brother had never lied to him before. Half-truths, hidden things. But never lied. Not like this. He adjusted his saber in his hands, still unsure whether he needed it.

“Killian… why are you lying to me?”

“It’s… I’m not lying… I… if I don’t do this, I won’t be…”

He trailed off. It was really a day of new things. Killian attacking him. Killian lying. Killian speechless. Kieran didn’t want to stick around to find out what else was new.

“Yeah, you made your bed, lie in it.” He turned around, deactivating his saberstaff and walking out of the alleyway. “You want to kill me? Stab me in the back like the snake you’re becoming.”

Killian reached out. He was still struggling, like coming out of a haze. “Brother please! Just… turn around…” He fell to his knees, mumbling, unable to call out again. “Don’t walk… don’t walk away from me, please.” His eyes filled with tears again as he began to understand again what he had planned to do. In front of him lay a satchel, it must’ve been Kieran’s. He opened it with fumbling hands and found a shuura next to a small idol. He had seen ones like it before. This one meant “Courage.” He wept loudly over it as a soft shadow appeared around him. The voice that whispered out felt like shards of glass.

“And already, you have failed yourself. Perhaps more importantly, you’ve failed me.”

In a way, the lightning that soon coursed through Killian’s body was a relief. For now, the pain his master brought upon him could not match the pain of his actions. He faded out, only waking again briefly as they strapped him into the interrogation chairs on Volpex’s starship.

(End Part II)

Part III: Allow This Year Before The World Starts To End

((https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjERdCJ_hto))

A soft, pulsing blue light illuminated Killian’s face. He hadn’t been sleeping much for the last month. Not that Volpex let him at all for the first part of that. Now, even when he did get sleep, it was troubled, fragmented. He didn’t know how long the light had been strobing. He’d lain in a haze for a while, unwilling to get up to check his holo or just to turn the message off. His eyes fluttered. It could’ve been a day later, he wouldn’t have noticed.

He groaned. He wasn’t sure if his eye was swollen, or it was just the way he’d been sleeping, but it was hard to see through his right eye. He found the strength to push an arm underneath, and lift himself off the bed. His ribs hurt. He didn’t remember the last time they hadn’t. He turned his clock around (he didn’t want to look at it anymore at night unless he had to, and the light kept him awake). It was still only 2 in the morning. He stood up slowly. He favored his left leg a bit, and resisted the urge to scratch it. It’d just tear off more skin. He took measured steps, not really looking up from the dark floor. It was a totally barren floor, but still it felt like it was spinning. Unsteady. On his dresser, he picked up the holocomm, opening it. Encrypted message. Urgent. He knew the numbers. Knew the message before he even read it. He sighed, setting the comm back down, closing it and turning it off. He steadily hobbled back to bed, collapsing into it, part of him hoping that if he landed just right on the pillow he’d stop breathing. No such luck. Killian cried, heaving, painful sobs, until he fell asleep. The message stuck in his head, repeated with every failing he’d ever made in his life.

“Killian. Meet me at these coordinates. -Kieran.”

Maybe it was a sign his master was trusting him. He wasn’t sure. But Killian knew he wasn’t being followed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about the other option: either he came back with Kieran dead, or he would be dead, himself. So as he stepped through the clean, industrial spaceport in orbit around Corellia, he didn’t have to hide himself, but he certainly did not walk with anything like determination or pride. It was the same somber shuffle he’d acquired in recent weeks, with the same grim clouds hovering over his head. He tucked his hands in his pockets. He hadn’t done that since he was a kid, walking back to his dorm from saber practice with Kieran bouncing along beside him. Kieran, smiling. Killian paused while walking to breathe, a shuddering breath that just managed to hold his composure.

The shuttle he took dropped him off at a station overlooking one of the Corellian Engineering Corporation shipyards. There was an executive suite that Kieran liked to rent out here. The view was stunning. Kieran always loved the style of the civilian ships Corellia produced, and this particular shipyard built top-of-the-line pleasure yachts. Even as he approached the station’s lift, Killian began to feel more at ease. He’d never been to this one. But his bond with Kieran meant he felt all parts of this place almost intimately. It was a favorite haunt. Killian cringed at his own mental choice of words.

There were no guards once he got into the building proper. If you got a suite there, you’d have an entire level to yourself, with only the lift as an entrance (there was one escape pod per level. Equipped with a mini-bar, apparently. Escape in style while your paid cronies die for you). As a Jedi, Kieran didn’t really need guards to protect him. Killian got to the top of the lift and buzzed the main door, which opened for him shortly. “I’m in the viewing room.”

The viewing room was vast, with a balcony that allowed guests to look out over the shipyards below, and windowscreens that could zoom in, when aligned correctly, to see other nearby shipyards, or the other 4 major planets in the system. Decorated exactly the way Kieran would prefer: gorgeous marble statues stood between nude paintings. The wallpaper was a soft magenta, that Killian thought fit well with the stars outside. Some of the statues had pink scarves on them. Killian wasn’t sure if Kieran had added those himself or requested them for the room. He didn’t want to ask. Leaning at the center of the balcony, a subtle cloud of smoke flowing around him, was Kieran.

Killian’s shoulders tensed just a little. He didn’t have the energy to be on guard anymore. “Hey, Kieran.” Kieran didn’t tense at all. He looked relaxed. Fluid as he stood. He beckoned Killian over. It was unusual for Kieran to be this quiet, but in a way, it made sense for Killian. He almost felt like he had to make a deliberate choice to take each step, but he found himself leaning besides his brother quicker than he expected. Kieran was slowly smoking a cigar. He wasn’t sure when his brother had taken to smoking, but it was another thing he figured he wouldn’t question. “So, you called me?”

Kieran smiled a barren, empty smile. He held out the cigar for Killian to take, if he wanted. He did, automatically, taking a steady draw, passing it back. Kieran flicked the ash from the end of the cigar. “Your hand… does it hurt?” It took Killian a minute to understand. At this point he was accustomed to the burns, the lightning-charred flesh that healed but not quickly enough, the throbbing dull pain. “It’s uh… the downside of being a Sith, I guess.” They both nodded as if that somehow made sense. As if harm for the sake of harm made sense. Maybe you had to learn somehow.

“So, why do you have to kill me?”

Identical twins. Once, that had been true. They would play pranks on their respective masters, switch for the day. Even as kids there were enough differences between them that their more observant teachers could notice. Kieran’s usually let him get away with it. Killian’s were somewhat more strict. They could dress alike, make the same facial expressions, style their hair the same. Now, they couldn’t look more different. Kieran still looked youthful, even if today his eyes didn’t smile. No scars, not even a wrinkle. Full bodied, vibrant blonde hair. There was still a reason he was the Pretty Boy Jedi. Killian stood next to him. He held his body with the weight of years far beyond his own. His eyes were bloodshot, tired, fearful. His face held a map of the world on it. It still held recent burn marks, dug in scars, crows feet almost stretching across to his ears. His hair was already beginning to turn white in patches. He hadn’t shaved in days, but it didn’t grow in steadily anymore. Identical twins. Maybe there was only room for one in the galaxy.

“Because I love you.”

The words delivered like the dull thud of a sledgehammer. Neither was sure who started crying first, but it was Killian that continued talking.

“The Sith Order... is based on power and freedom. Freedom from our weaknesses. To be seen as a leader I... I need to be free of my attachments. Being a former Jedi makes me seem weak. Still knowing you... “

“You need to kill me to be seen as valid.”

“Yeah. It’s… I’ve got a new master. It’s his instruction. I do this, and I can finally… make… something of myself.”

Kieran grimaced. Nodded. He turned away from Killian briefly. Fresh sparks lit up across the shipyard, a new starship being assembled. The sunlight glinted off a chromed yacht. It was far enough away, but Killian still squinted while looking at it. Kieran turned around next to him, leaning back against the balcony. Another puff from the cigar.

“Do you remember Master Ovelen’s telekinesis class? All the younglings were working for weeks to lift a boulder with the Force by ourselves. You practiced every single night.”

“You were so bad at it, too!”

“I know! I never was that great with telekinesis. That was totally your field.”

“Hey, you got it eventually.”

“And I can still kick your ass with a lightsaber.”

They both laughed. There was no threat to the words, just brotherly competition.

“Remember, though, Killian. Remember how mad you got when Grahk lifted the boulder first? By the Force, I thought you were gonna have a meltdown.”

“Yeah but I lifted it right after!”

“Oh, Grahk must’ve loosened it up for you or something, huh?”

“Oh whatever, Kieran. I did great. Besides Grahk sucked at everything else.”

“Hey! She’s become a perfectly great archivist!”

Killian turned back to watch the ships outside. It looked like one was gently flying in, likely for repairs and maintenance. The side of it read its designation, Fortune Days. Kieran kept talking.

“You were always looking to do better. To be the best Jedi. You really were the best of us.”

Killian started to weep, slowly. He had been thinking about his time as a Jedi a lot lately. His master wanted to drill it out of him, and he did, too, but it stuck to his mind like so many cobwebs.

“The masters were always so proud of you. One of the youngest ever made a Knight. You were so good… so good at it. You wanted to be the best. So ambitious.”

Killian cringed, tensing up. The word “ambition” tore at him. Was it ambition that drove him? Was that really why he was still thinking about killing his own brother? Why he was making that choice?

“Sorry… bad choice of words.”

“Yeah, a little bit. I mean, lately, I guess my biggest ambition has been to just get out of bed.”

“Well, you made it here. We’ve got a nice couple beds in the suite, though, if you want to sleep. I’ll try not to keep you up as much. We’ll just have some small parties.”

Killian laughed at it. Kieran’s sense of humor could survive anything.

“Kieran, you have always been the biggest pain in the ass, too. Force, even as a kid, you’d keep me up late.”

“You could’ve asked to switch dorms. I mean, I’m sure the council would’ve been just fine breaking up brothers.”

“Yeah, but someone had to keep you on the line. And you kept me a little grounded. Even if that meant you pushed my buttons all the time. Far better training in patience than any of the masters ever gave me.”

“Hell, you’re not even in the order anymore and I still know how to bug you constantly. You still owe me for the fruit you took on Tatooine, by the way.”

Killian watched Fortune Days settle into its appointed dock. The hydraulic clamps hissed, steam spewing into space as it held the ship. A small docking connection attached to the ship’s door.

“I love you too, brother. You know that, right? You still have a place back in the Order. I’ll fight any Jedi that says you can’t. You can always come back.”

Killian didn’t have to look at Kieran to know he was struggling. To know he wasn’t looking back at him. He could feel Kieran’s own tears hitting the floor, a ripple through the Force. He knew Kieran didn’t really believe what he was saying. He knew he would try. But it could never happen. There was no way for Killian to go back.

“I’m sorry… I’m too far gone. They’ll never let… I don’t want…”

He chokes. He can’t even finish his sentence, his thought. His vision is clouded. Fortune Days fades out of sight, only the slightest twinkle of starlight gets through the tears now. He heard Kieran sobbing, as if through a pane of glass. A touch, just lightly, on his shoulder. Killian turned, and wrapped his arms around Kieran. The brothers embraced, tightly, like they hadn’t in years. Killian felt Kieran kiss his cheek lightly, then a sobbed whisper into his ear.

“I’ll always be the Light for you, brother. Always. Remember that.”

In the quickest movement, a light appeared between them. A saber blade stuck through Kieran’s chest. He had pulled Killian’s lightsaber from his belt, and stabbed himself. The hum was soft, creating a soft melody with the staccato pace of Kieran’s own breath. Killian couldn’t breathe, himself.

“Why? WHY?!”

Kieran smiled, hazy. “You needed it more than you needed me.”

The blade turned off and fell to the ground. The wound didn’t bleed, but Kieran clutched it anyway. Killian reached forward, holding his brother as he eased them both to the floor. Kieran’s gaze faded, staring out the window. Killian looked at his brother, looked at the face that was so close to his own. The breathing was shallow, but there was still the faintest trace of a smile. Kieran tried to speak, but couldn’t find the air, couldn’t find his tongue, couldn’t make a noise other than to breathe ever lighter. His mouth began to well blood from his dying, broken lungs, the last thing they could produce for him. A single drop fell down the right side of his face.

On his cheek, on his shirt, on the floor, the blood mixed with Killian’s tears. The last bond the identical twin brothers would share.

“...Why?” is all Killian can whisper.

((End Part III))

Part IV: Wake Up

(( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojasq626CgQ ))

Killian pulled Kieran’s head into his chest, clutching it tightly, as if by just holding him near his lungs, Kieran might breathe easier again. Every breath seemed more shallow. Kieran wasn’t crying anymore, but Killian was doing so enough for both of them.

Every breath Killian exhaled came out as a simple “Why?” It didn’t make sense. Even what Kieran had said to him. None of it seemed right. Killian was the one who was wrong and broken, Kieran was perfect and brilliant. So why was Kieran dying and Killian had to hold him? Why was Killian still going to be here?

“Why?”

Kieran became lucid, just for a second. A mutter. His hand reached up, touched Killian’s face. It had no strength anymore, but the touch felt like a slap to Killian, jostling him. It was coupled with the softest words.

“You were always… the best brother. Always.”

It all came out, like this had flipped a switch, allowed Killian to speak again.

“That’s never been true, Kieran. You were the hero. The true one. Kieran I’ve known that all my life. It’s why I was so afraid. It’s why I felt it was ok to leave. The Jedi didn’t need me, they needed you.”

He breathes a shattered breath, and a small smile appears. In a moment, every memory he’s ever had of his brother flashes through his mind. Killian continues to weep, but keeps talking.

“Remember when you used to sneak out of the temple and buy those donuts from the little cart a few miles away? You’d sneak them into the training rooms and made sure everyone got one. I think you’re the only reason I did so well… you at least made it easier to pass the time, to stop from stressing out, to stop from going overboard. You were just… you are so pure-hearted and good.”

He could feel the pulse slowing. Could feel the breaths flowing slower. Killian knew Kieran wasn’t going to last long.

“You kept me going through everything… even when I left the Jedi, your messages kept me going. Kept me feeling like things were ok. You never treated me differently. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I ever even considered this, I’m sorry Kieran. You deserved to live, to be free, not me.”

He pulled Kieran in closer. His voice was a whisper now.

“I would do anything for you, Kieran. And no matter what I will never forget this. I promise you. You were always so good.”

A flash of light from outside catches his eye. A new ship jumping out of hyperspace. The shipyard continued knowing nothing of what occurred in the overlooking suite. Killian stopped. He could only hear his own breathing now. Only feel his own pulse. He leaned forward, and kissed his brother’s forehead.

“Please…” He didn’t know whether it was more for himself or for Kieran. In his heart he knew his brother was gone. He hoped it was a dream.

“Please wake up.”

Part V: Come So Far From Innocence

(( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9RhvUNvDUbE ))

The streets of Kallig, capital city of Korriban, were filled with Sith acolytes, slaves, supporters, and the many that served them all. The symbolic center of the Sith Empire, the seat of the Dark Council, on these desert steppes, on the ruins of old temples dedicated to long-dead Darths, a city had been built to uphold the strongest, and darkest, powers in the Empire.

Today was an auspicious day. Announcements had been proclaimed across the stretches of the Empire that the most loyal and proud should gather on Korriban, in Kallig, to witness the ascension of the newest member of the Dark Council. Wealthy merchants sat atop thrones on their own roof, getting the best view of the processional path. Yet the Sith were nothing if not the “voice of the people” and so the poor, the low-class, the downtrodden, were all allowed to stand right up against the rails on the route to see the new member of the dozen that oversaw the highest heights of their lives.

The ceremonial square set before the Academy steps was reserved for the most loyal Sith apprentices, but the guards could be manipulated. Some took bribes, others succumbed to mind tricks. The square was still secure enough. No one would dare an attack with the most powerful Sith in the galaxy in attendance. And besides, they could let the Jedi watch. Watch and fear. For today one of their sons stepped up as an equal, a blessing for the Sith Empire.

No one even acknowledged the masked Jedi that had stepped into the masses in the square. Half the Sith here wore masks, or hoods, or both. Mostly, they were just annoyed that a person was trying to push past them to get a better view. A few made a comment that this apprentice’s robes were horribly outdated in fashion, and beneath the mask, he had to hold back from retorting. The Light was peace. But around this much overwhelming darkness, it was tough to hold back the sarcasm. Hopefully that was all he had to worry about.

Trumpets sounded, and the chorus of cheers in the distance grew closer. The procession accompanying the new Darth approached. At the forefront walked guards in golden Mandalorian-styled armor, holding tremendous force-pikes. Red, blue, and black capes adorned them, and the front of each rank of guards had a fine blue and black crest upon their helm. As the guards entered the square, they spread their formation, set to flank at attention before the rest of the procession. 5 guards deep on each side as the trumpets and war drums took up a rousing bridge. The many acolytes pushed forward when all the royal guards were in position, wanting to get the best look.

The band entered the beginning of the hailing verse, triumphant, proud, calling for all present to observe he that moved before them. Atop a floating throne stood Killian Lord in his glory. Even from a distance, he looked mighty. It had been some time since he’d walked without pride in his step, and today, he held his head high. He tucked his combat helm, battered and scarred as his true face now was, into his left elbow. He waved with his right hand, his face not a smile, not a smirk, but perhaps something in between. These were his people now. His first Sith apprentice stood behind him. A new recruit, he still wasn’t sure what to think of him. On each corner of the large throne structure stood a Sith Knight, expert guardians, dressed in a void-like black metal with identical masks. He looked past the semi-healed burns on his hand as he waved to the crowd. His people. Yes.

The throne stopped several meters from the steps, allowing Killian to step down. The whole thing was process, organized, in the sort of way that only the Sith Empire could arrange. Oddly, it did make Killian feel at home. It helped, certainly, that becoming a member of the Dark Council was much like being elevated to Godhood. A good ego boost, and Killian would be glad to take that. As he touched the ground, just for a moment, it felt like something was wrong, but he couldn’t place quite what. It felt like he was being watched. Which, of course, he was, by a few thousand people.

He walked forward, rising up the steps. The chorus had changed, a crescendo was rising, and the crowd screamed for him. “HAIL! HAIL! HAIL! HAIL KILLIAN LORD! HAIL! HAIL! HAIL!” Even he did not know the Darth title he was about to receive. Perhaps this would be the last time he would hear his own name. It was a good way to do so.

Killian strode up the steps, almost mountainous in their height, or so it seemed from the bottom. Halfway, he turned around, gazing back at the city and its people. The cheers, the hails, the music, all rose up to meet him. He pumped his fist in the air, eliciting a cry from the masses. In the back of his mind, he felt a scream, a twinge of fear and hate and joy all at once. His hand fell, just briefly, and his apprentice strode up to him. “Let’s move on, master.” Killian turned around to take the steps again.

At the height stood the Dark Council itself, as well as a few other Darths. In the corner, Darth Volpex observed, as always. None on the Council wished to speak of the potential that their previous member, who Killian was replacing, had been murdered, likely BY Killian. They were simply glad that the new Lord of Sith Justice was such a hardened and mighty ex-Jedi. Darth Arcus greeted Killian to the stage. His voice amplified for all to hear.

“Today we of the Dark Council greet you, Dark Lord Killian. You have come so far from such caged beginnings. Truly, you represent the greatness that could come of the Jedi if they were to simply allow themselves freedom. We greet you today, Killian Lord, as a great son of our Empire, and when you next stand, you shall be a brother of this council.”

The crowd roared, almost obscuring even the amplified voice of Darth Arcus, who waited.

“Please, for perhaps the last time, kneel here, Dark Lord Killian.”

Killian could little contain his pride and excitement as he kneeled. He could feel Darth Volpex beaming at him, too, despite the mask. And sure, the plans had belonged to Volpex, but this moment belonged to Killian.

It was only six months since Kieran died. But much had changed. Volpex delivered as he had promised, knowing that he’d still be pulling the strings. Or so he hoped. When Killian first returned from his fateful meeting with Kieran, he was broken, but… perhaps Volpex was right. Perhaps his attachment HAD held him back. Certainly, after a month of mourning, he was more filled with passion and less constrained. The Dark Council noticed quickly, and when Darth Urion died most tragically in a shuttle explosion, the name on everyone’s lips was Killian Lord.

He had overcome a lot, and felt more free than he ever had under the Jedi, more free than he ever had alone. The Sith gave him the sense of belonging he always wanted. And never had it felt more real than as he kneeled, waiting to be named a Darth.

“Killian Lord, the Dark Council names you as the new Lord of the Sphere of Law and Justice. You shall oversee the rule of order and law in the Sith Empire. I thus name you a Dark Lord of the Sith. You have kneeled ‘Killian Lord’, now arise Darth Connatus.”

Killian stood, the shouts from the apprentices, guards, and acolytes rising with him. “HAIL DARTH CONNATUS! HAIL! HAIL!” He shook Darth Arcus’ hand, then the other members of the council, then gazed back over the crowds. Was he… happy? A strange, familiar feeling filled him. Like he could sense someone else, someone proud of him. But there were so many proud of him that day. So many eager to please him. Maybe, just for a while, things would be happy for him.

In the crowd, the Jedi watched. He hadn’t spoken, but he had clapped with the others. Maybe part of him WAS proud. He left before the crowds dispersed, taking side streets out of the city until he could reach his ship and leave the planet.

He escaped atmosphere before he finally took off his mask. He hated feeling constrained in it, but he’d been in disguise for quite a while now. He opened the chest of his robes as well, clutching at the scar that still marred his chest. It was painful, but he’d survived. He would for a while. Anything for his brother.

Kieran Lord set a course for Tatooine. He’d need to pick up more supplies for his life off the grid. On his comm console sat the message he’d been trying to write for a while now. He added another line to it today.

“Killian, I saw you and I’m so proud of you. I just hope you’ll be ok.”

He knew he wouldn’t send it today. Or even tomorrow. But someday, things would make sense. The ship finished its prep, and jumped to hyperspace.

[END]

((This piece of fiction is dedicated to Bentley, my muse, my amazing love, my inspiration. He’s given me so much and let me feel a freedom I haven’t felt in a long time and I am so glad I can repay him by putting his favorite characters through emotional tragedy. <3 ))

#not my writing #ex bf

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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Annnd some bonus stuff as well. Again based on prompts from Cass

1. Domestic

“Hux.” Hux looks up from his holopad at Kylo’s impatient tone, raising a brow. He still hates it when Kylo doesn’t use his title, even now, four months and two days since the start of their relationship. (Kylo doesn’t keep track, but Hux does, just like he monitors everything else in his life) “We are off duty. Put that away.” Kylo uses the force to snatch the holopad from Hux’s grip before the general can protest and list all the reasons why he needs to keep it on him (“in case of emergency, Kylo”). This is not the first time that they’ve had this conversation.

“Kylo.” Hux stops just short of holding his hand out for the stolen holopad. He knows Kylo won’t give it back regardless. “You knew when you scheduled our days off at the same time that this is what I do in my down time.”

“It isn’t “down time” if you’re working.” Kylo responds, the usual sharpness of his tone overlaid by something fonder. Hux had questioned that change, at first-it was always hard to tell when the knight was being genuine-but now he likes it too much to complain. “Come on.” He pulls Hux up out of his well-worn desk chair, leading him over to the bed. Hux is about to protest; regardless of his choice to continue working well into his free time, it has been a long week and he’s too tired to go along with whatever scheme Kylo has just thought of, but all the knight does is lead him over to the bed. “Sit,” he commands. Hux obeys, for once. Kylo just barely smirks (Hux can tell he really wants to comment on his obedience), but stays quiet.

“How is this any more relaxing than being productive?” Hux asks after a moment. Kylo shushes him, glaring lightly, before he kneels down and sets about taking off Hux’s boots. The general is so startled that he misses the opportunity to make a snarky comment, though judging by the look Kylo gives him a moment later, the knight hears his thoughts just fine.

“Lay back,” Kylo instructs once Hux’s shoes are off. Hux obeys again, mostly because he wants to know where Kylo is going with this. His uniform isn’t the most comfortable thing to relax like this in, but he’s not going to complain too much...at the moment, anyway. Kylo takes off his own boots before joining Hux on the bed, smirking when their eyes meet.

“Shut up,” Hux says before Kylo has a chance to voice any of the things he’s surely thinking about saying. The knight rolls his eyes-and again, there is the fondness that Hux has caught so many times now from him-and snuggles up against Hux, making himself comfortable despite his heavy robes. Hux sighs; he’s definitely not going anywhere now that Kylo is set on doing...whatever this is supposed to be.

“We’re relaxing, moron.” Kylo rolls his eyes again, clearly knowing, yet again, exactly what Hux was thinking.

“Stay out of my head,” Hux mumbles rather halfheartedly, not entirely hating the idea of spending a while laying here with Kylo now that he had gotten used to it. He lets the silence settle between them for a while before speaking again. “This would be more comfortable if we didn’t have our full uniforms on,” he pointed out. Kylo chuckled; a low sound that Hux has come to enjoy.

“I don’t think we would be doing much relaxing, then,” he smirked. Hux keeps his reply limited to a slight nod, though he doesn’t disagree.

2. At the movies

“Kylo, I don’t understand why you think it’s really necessary to drag me here.” Hux complains all the way into the theatre, mentally cursing his foolish, childish, immature boyfriend. Well-that might be a little harsh, actually, but Hux has real work to get done, and it would not be getting done while they watched some ridiculous movie.

“Shut up.” Kylo kindly responds when they find their seats. Hux lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms over his chest and stubbornly deciding that he will absolutely not be enjoying himself. They make it through the previews without any interruptions, and then suddenly Kylo’s hand is in Hux’s lap.

“Kylo.” Hux hisses as softly as he can manage, shifting away as much as possible. Little good will come out of letting the knight keep his hand there. “Kylo.” He says with more force when the knight doesn’t react. The corner of Kylo’s mouth quirks upwards. Hux rolls his eyes. “Kylo, I don’t want to be here anyway, and-” the general finds himself suddenly cut off when Kylo turns (he’s shockingly fast, Hux always seems to forget that) and kisses him. He’s torn suddenly between we’re fucked and yes, Kylo and what comes out of his mouth when Kylo pulls back to breathe is an embarrassingly whiny, “Fuck, Kylo.”

“Haven’t even touched you properly,” Kylo mumbles, somehow managing to sound amused even while kissing down Hux’s neck.

“Kylo, someone’s going to see us,” Hux hisses a moment later, all of his common sense rushing back to him at once and leaving him tense and sounding rather annoyed. He can practically see the knight rolling his eyes as Kylo pulls away, settling back into his own seat with a soft huff. Hux can’t help missing his touch already, though another part of him is greatly relieved that Kylo backed off when asked, for once.

Hux tenses for an entirely different reason when an invisible hand brushes down his chest. He gives Kylo an alarmed glance, though of course that isn’t enough to stop the knight. It never has been; his favorite hobby is seeing how flustered he can get Hux with a minimum of effort. “Kylo,” he hisses again. Kylo ignores him, as expected. Hux rolls his eyes, gripping the armrests of his chair when the invisible hand slides lower, palming at his cock through his pants. Hux whines embarrassingly, focused on making as little noise as possible. The corner of Kylo’s mouth quirks up even farther at the sound. Hux can’t help but wonder how he’s going to make it through another hour and a half of this.

“That’s not fair, Kylo.” Hux is as insufferable as ever after the movie, though perhaps a bit more breathless. Kylo didn’t get him off-of course he wouldn’t, the asshole.

“Never said anything about being fair, Hux,” Kylo responds, pretending to be poised. It’s somehow even more aggravating when Hux can’t match his pretend calm with real calm of his own.

“You also never said anything about getting me off during the damn movie, Kylo.” Hux snaps, glaring at the knight. Kylo abruptly turns, pinning him against the wall easily. Hux groans, his face flushing in embarrassment at the sound.

“I didn’t get you off,” Kylo purrs, pressing close to him. “Besides, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he teases. Hux rolls his eyes, trying to keep at least a shred of his composure.

“Shut up,” Hux mumbles, and he isn’t even surprised this time when Kylo kisses him.

3. Domestic pt. 2 featuring sick Hux

“So does this mean I’m in charge now?” Kylo asks. His tone is innocent. His motives certainly are anything but. Hux glares as much as he can between coughs.

“Absolutely not, Ren.” Hux responds as harshly as possible, sending himself into another coughing fit. It figures that the one time he left the ship, he’d come down with some ridiculous illness. He’d considered annihilating the planet responsible; a fitting punishment for what he was going through. “I hate-” he cuts himself off with another cough, glaring at Kylo as if this is somehow his fault.

“I know,” Kylo smirks, crossing the room to him. How he’s so confident that he won’t get sick too is a mystery Hux has no energy to solve at the moment. The general watches Kylo warily, not trusting him enough to know that he won’t try anything, but all the knight does is press Hux back onto the bed. “Lay down.” He commands. Hux has no energy to argue. Thankfully, Kylo does not tease him for his obedience. “Now stay there.” The knight instructs, leaving the room for a moment and returning with a glass of water. Hux thinks he ought to voice some protest, just so that Kylo knows that he’s not in charge, but he’s not coughing as much now that he’s let himself relax a bit, and it does feel better to lay down like this.

“You’re not in charge,” he voices his protest much more mildly than usual, taking a sip of water from the glass Kylo hands him.

“Mm, yes, I know,” Kylo responds, his tone aggravatingly soothing. Hux wants to roll his eyes and state very firmly that he does not need to be coddled like this, but he feels better now than he has all morning, despite his irritation with the knight. “I’m not in charge,” he murmurs, taking the glass of water from Hux and setting it on the nightstand. “Here. Sit up for a second.” Kylo seats himself on the edge of the bed, coaxing the general to sit up again.

“Could’ve done this before you made me lay down,” Hux grumbles, mostly on principle. He feels hot and cold at the same time; definitely feverish. He rests his forehead against Kylo’s reassuringly steady shoulder, refusing to look up and acknowledge the smirk he knows the knight must be giving him, and allows Kylo to unbutton his regulation uniform.

“You’re so stubborn,” Kylo speaks as he pushes the uniform shirt off of Hux’s shoulders, leaving him in his black undershirt. “You were planning to go to work today, weren’t you?” Hux coughs in response, uninterested in discussing his own tendency to work even when he really shouldn’t. “You’re lucky to have me.” Hux just knows that Kylo is smirking again, but he doesn’t have the energy to stop him.

“Shut up,” Hux mumbles, laying back willingly when Kylo prompts him to. “You’re not in charge,” he repeats with absolutely no conviction. Kylo nods in an infuriatingly patronizing way.

“Rest. And I do mean rest.” The knight stands, glaring down at Hux with only a fraction of his usual aggression. Hux nods, giving into the pressing exhaustion. There’s no point in arguing anyway, since any attempt at annoyance seems to end in a coughing fit.

“I hate you.” Hux smirks as much as he can, making himself comfortable under the covers. Kylo nods in a way that suggests he expect as much, but doesn’t respond verbally, leaving the general to sleep soundly.

Kylo might be infuriating at the best of times, but he somehow, inexplicably, does know what he’s talking about when it comes to illness. Hux is much better within the day, and feels well enough to be back on the ship’s bridge before nightfall on the second day. He suspects it might have something to do with actually getting enough sleep for once, though he doesn’t plan to tell Kylo that.

The knight does deserve thanks, though, so Hux steels himself to give Kylo just that. “Thank you.” He murmurs to Kylo as they stand together on the bridge. The knight gives him a sidelong glance, though it’s frustratingly unclear whether he is truly surprised. “For not being a complete asshole.” Hux finishes his statement with one of the self-satisfied smirks he knows Kylo hates.

“Mm. You’re welcome.” The knight responds, nearly interrupting his words with a cough. Hux gives him a surprised look, unable to help himself. “Shut up. This is your fault.” Kylo responds sharply. Hux can’t help smiling, though he knows Kylo is likely glaring.

“Do you need me to take care of you?” He teases. Kylo crosses his arms.

“I hate you.”

#kylux

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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Non-Regulation

In which General Hux finds himself in a situation. (credit to Cass for the prompt)

“Fuck, you look amazing…” Hux can’t help feeling gratified by the obvious lust in Kylo’s voice, even as his cheeks flush lightly in embarrassment from the hungry look the knight is giving him.

“I know,” he smirks, moving to straddle his still fully-dressed partner, biting his lip lightly at the feel of the lace shifting against his skin. He’s currently wearing a black lace and satin corset, along with black lace panties that leave little to the imagination, and black stockings held up with garters. A pair of shiny black heels completes his outfit. Kylo wastes no time before pulling Hux into a deep kiss, sliding his tongue into the general’s very pliant mouth. “Kylo-” Hux groans when the knight reaches around him to grab his ass roughly, pulling him close until they’re pressed flush against each other.

“Yes, general?” Kylo teases, raising a brow. Hux thinks it’s probably important that the knight never calls him by his title outside of the bedroom, but he has much more important things on his mind at the moment, and doesn’t dwell on the thought. “Do you like my hands on your ass?” Kylo continues his teasing, leaning forward to nip at Hux’s jaw roughly. Hux groans, rolling his hips forward even as he hopes that the knight has enough sense to not leave a mark in such a visible area.

“You’re the one with the force; you should already know my feelings on the matter,” Hux quips instead of giving a straight answer. He earns himself a sharp smack on the ass for his trouble, his hips jerking forward as he bites down on his lip roughly. “Kylo…” His tone has a bit of warning in it now, but the knight remains unconcerned, his touch going back to its previous almost-gentleness.

“Mm, I just like to hear you say it,” Kylo purrs. Hux scrambles to undress the knight, frustrated as usual by the hard-to-find clasps on his armor. He vaguely registers his comm beginning to buzz on the nightstand as several messages come in at once, but his focus remains on undressing Kylo. “Are you going to check that? It might be important.” The knight interrupts him, glancing at his comm. Hux sighs in frustration, rolling his eyes.

“You could have just told me you didn’t want to be undressed,” he snaps irritably, annoyed at having been interrupted by Kylo himself when it was obvious that Hux was beginning to lose his composure. Usually Kylo liked it when that happened.

“Fine. Don’t check your comm. Forget it.” The knight responds mildly, a bit of amusement lighting his expression as he looks down at Hux. The general rolls his eyes again, his attention now divided between Kylo and the still-buzzing comm. It’s going to be impossible for him to just “forget it” now that his attention has been brought to it, so instead of wasting time trying, he leans over to grab the device. He can’t help feeling a bit gratified at the resulting annoyed sigh from Kylo, though the small smirk on his face quickly fades when he actually reads the messages.

“Shit,” he runs his hand over his face in frustration, sliding off of Kylo’s lap. “Resistance forces.” He offers an explanation to the now very annoyed-looking knight, moving to grab his coat.

“You’re not going to change?” Kylo asks, sounding rather surprised. Hux remembers the lingerie suddenly and looks down at himself, internally debating for a moment before shaking his head.

“No time.” He responds, pulling on his coat. “I should have been on the bridge five minutes ago.” He lets out an irritated huff; this is exactly why fraternization between officers is forbidden. He’s actually surprised that this hadn’t happened sooner, though that doesn’t make the fact that it’s happening now any better. Hux walks quickly to the door, holding his coat shut with one hand and messaging Phasma on his comm with the other. He stops short when he realizes that Kylo is following him. “Absolutely not, Ren. You have no reason to be on the bridge with me.” He snaps.

“I could argue with you and waste more time. Or you could walk and I could follow.” Kylo responds, surprisingly calmly. Hux grits his teeth and nods, recognizing that Kylo is, for once, regrettably, right.

They make it to the bridge in record time, Kylo ignoring the various stares he gets for walking with Hux for once, rather than leading the way, and Hux fervently hoping that none of the stares are due to his current very non-regulation “uniform”. “Captain Phasma, report.” Hux commands authoritatively, enjoying the way the heels raise him to eye-level with the normally taller captain.

There’s a slight pause before she speaks, and her tone is carefully measured when she begins. Hux cringes inwardly, willing himself not to blush as he realizes that she’s noticed his unorthodox outfit. Normally he would praise her for her observation skills, but right now he wishes she was as oblivious as the rest of the troops generally are. “There are five ships attacking. They haven’t yet been able to do much damage, but they’re aiming for our guns. I have my best men in charge. We’re fighting back as best we can.”

“Have we hit any of them yet?” Hux snaps, raising a brow.

“Not yet, sir.” Phasma responds. Kylo snorts; any annoyance for Hux is always a source of amusement for him.

“Then try harder,” the general snaps before moving to his position at the forward part of the bridge. He can feel rather than see Kylo; the knight is fond of standing just behind his shoulder, only barely out of his peripheral vision, but just the idea that the knight is within arms’ reach stirs his near-forgotten lust. Absolutely not. Not here. He orders himself internally, keeping his stance rigid. He tries not to think about his current attire, his opinion of the situation ranging from “totally embarrassing” to “incredibly hot”. Neither of these thoughts are appropriate to be entertained in the current situation, so he forces himself to ignore them.

“General Hux, sir?” An officer approaches him, somewhat timidly; providing a welcome distraction. Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes, as he does whenever one of his soldiers openly showcases their hesitancy in front of him. He nods sharply instead, indicating for the officer to continue. “We…” he trails off, obviously catching sight of Hux’s non-regulation heels. His eyes widen, and he swallows hard before his gaze darts back up to the general’s face. “W-we managed to cripple one of them, s-sir...t-they’ve backed off quite a bit.” The officer is nearly scarlet by the time he finishes his sentence. Hux isn’t quite sure whether to be embarrassed or turned on (there are valid arguments for either, really) so instead he simply glares.

“Either learn to give reports without stuttering, or you will be removed from your position. Permanently.” He straightens himself up as much as possible to remind the officer of just how much authority he holds.

“Yes, general.” The officer somehow manages to make it through the brief acknowledgement without stuttering, saluting Hux crisply before hurrying away. Behind Hux, Kylo chuckles lowly.

“And you tell me not to frighten the recruits,” he nearly purrs. Hux can feel his gaze roaming over him, and can’t manage to hide his blush this time. “Oh, general, I think Phasma has it handled now…” Kylo runs a hand up Hux’s back slowly, much less discreetly than he probably thinks he’s being. Hux fights to ignore the glances from the other officers, as well as the unimpressed look he knows Phasma must be giving him, and tries to step away slightly. “Mm, be a good boy for me, general,” Kylo grabs his wrist, keeping him firmly in place. Hux nearly shudders, though he has enough self-control left to stop that from happening, at least.

“Not here, Ren.” He orders under his breath, glaring at Kylo as much as possible without turning his head. “I’m not leaving until the situation is totally handled.” He feels a flash of regret (but only a brief flash) when Kylo actually lets go of him, acquiescing to his argument.

“You underestimate your troops, general.” Kylo murmurs after another moment. Hux really wishes he would stop calling him by his title in that sinful tone of voice, though he doesn’t plan on actually addressing that particular issue anytime soon.

“I’ll decide what my troops can and cannot handle, thank you.” Hux responds, clasping his hands firmly behind his back as he shifts once again into parade rest. He’s sure that his lingerie is likely on display, but that can’t be helped at this point, and he refuses to even acknowledge the issue at this point. It’s much better to keep his eyes fixed on the galaxy he can see through the viewport ahead of him and pretend there is nothing at all amiss. Really, he thinks it might be the only way he’ll make it through this situation with at least some of his dignity intact.

“We’ve scared them off,” Phasma reports after a very long and very trying ten minutes. Hux nods curtly, immediately turning to leave the bridge. “And, general?” She calls him back. He turns his head questioningly. “I like the outfit.” He can hear the smirk in her voice, and fights to keep himself from turning away too hastily. He refuses to acknowledge the way her comment has sent a fresh burst of lust sailing through him, traveling down his spine and coming to rest hotly at his waist.

Kylo follows him from the bridge and down the hall, in exactly the way Hux has chastised him for many times in the past. “Ren, I have told you not to be so conspicuous about-” the general finds himself interrupted when the knight grabs his arm, pulling him out of the hallway and into a rather cramped supply closet. “Kylo-” he starts again, about to protest, but this time is cut off by a deep kiss as the knight presses closer. Hux grabs Kylo’s hips out of habit, moaning into the kiss when Kylo responds by beginning to grind against him.

“I forgot the lube, but we’re still getting off,” Kylo pulls back from the kiss to speak briefly before pushing Hux’s coat out of the way and running his hands over him, as if trying to touch every inch of him. The general groans, leaning into the knight’s touch. “You look so fucking good,” Kylo moans, grinding against Hux’s thigh almost desperately for a moment before pulling back to undress. “I’m close,” he groans once he’s undressed enough to touch himself, stroking his own cock slowly. He presses close to Hux again, kissing along his jaw.

“Already?” Hux asks, raising a brow. Kylo nods, continuing to stroke himself.

“I was thinking about fucking you on the bridge,” he moans softly, again grinding against Hux’s thigh.

“You have no self-control,” Hux rolls his eyes, though his tone is hardly as pointed as usual. Kylo smirks, and in response, broadcasts his thoughts to the general. Hux finds that it’s very difficult to argue with that.

#kylux #absolute sin for u Sierra #happy birthday #for Sierra

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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it is finally finished. Part 1 here

He waited for Maddox’s confirming nod before continuing more sharply, “Get to it, then.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes on Maddox as the senator hastened to obey. He got a lot of satisfaction from being in control, never mind the rush that came from watching his orders be followed without question. Maddox undid his slacks one-handed, the other hand already gripping the bottle of lube. Spencer had to bite back a smirk at how eager he was; it was almost endearing. When Maddox was quiet like this, Spencer could almost imagine liking him. Almost.

Maddox let out a soft whine, most likely for Spencer’s benefit alone since he wasn’t even touching himself yet. Spencer rolled his eyes, raising a brow when the removal of the senator’s slacks revealed a rather lacy black thong. “You wore that to a rally.” He stated flatly, honestly unsure whether he was entirely aroused or just confused. Maddox nodded, biting his lip at the look on Spencer’s face. The senator practically lived off of attention, and this was more than he could have ever hoped for. “You wore that. To a goddamn political rally.” Spencer was half laughing as he stood up, unsure what he was going to do even as he began moving. He ended up gripping Maddox’s hips tightly, hardly hesitating before pulling him into a rough kiss.

Maddox moaned against Spencer’s lips, entirely too forthcoming about his own arousal, and did his best to rock his hips forward despite the other man’s restraining grip. Spencer sat back after another moment, pulling away from Maddox entirely. “Continue.” He ordered, glancing at the vibrator and somehow managing to sound as calm as he had before everything started. Maddox bit his lip again, slicking one hand with lube and using the other to move his thong out of the way before shifting almost completely off the desk to give himself a better angle at which to prep himself.

“Spencer…” He groaned softly, rolling his hips forward without really meaning to. Spencer wasn’t about to admit it out loud, but Maddox’s whiny voice sounded much better than usual in this situation.

“Hurry up and put the toy in you,” Spencer purred. He wasn’t about to break his own rule and touch the senator, especially since, for him, watching was more than enough. He wouldn’t give Maddox the satisfaction of getting off by just watching, but he could. He knew that already. He was very much a fan of the soft whines and breathy gasps Maddox took to letting out as he prepped himself, tilting his head back and letting his mouth fall open slightly as he readily gave in to the pleasure. “That was an order, Maddox,” Spencer stated softly after several minutes had passed, sensing that the senator was getting a bit distracted. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to,” he continued, mostly to get Maddox’s full attention. The ploy worked; Maddox sat up straighter, sliding his fingers out and moving to slick the toy with lube.

“That’s not fair,” he mumbled, pouting even as he slid the vibrator into himself slowly, rocking his hips down. Spencer groaned softly at the sight, not bothering to appear unaffected. As annoying as Maddox could be, he was being surprisingly compliant, and he deserved to see the effect he had on his partner. “What happens if I-ah-cum without your permission?” He rocked his hips a bit more purposefully, grinding the vibrator up into himself. Spencer smirked; Maddox’s need to test his boundaries was almost endearing in this situation.

“I kick you out and we never speak of this again.” Spencer shrugged, his tone just as calm and collected as it had been before Maddox even started. The senator nodded in understanding, apparently satisfied with this answer. Spencer waited a few more moments before slowly shifting his hands to the button of his slacks; he did intend to get off eventually, but he wasn’t quite sure yet how exactly this part of the plan would go. He kept his eyes on Maddox even as he undid his pants and slid his cock out of his boxers, committing the sight of the senator so lost in pleasure to memory. At the very least, it could possibly serve as blackmail later.

“Do you need something in your mouth, baby?” Spencer asked after another few moments, moving his hand lazily over his cock. Maddox nodded eagerly, nearly squirming with excitement at the possibility. Spencer smirked. “On your knees, then.” He commanded, continuing to stroke his cock as Maddox obeyed the order, sliding somewhat clumsily off of the edge of the desk and dropping to his knees without a word of protest. Spencer smirked; the sight of Maddox on his knees for him was even better than the sight of Maddox lost in pleasure as he had been earlier. “Good boy,” he purred, again sensing that the praise was needed at this point. Maddox blushed slightly, his gaze flicking from Spencer’s cock to his face and back again as he waited for further instructions. “Come here.” Spencer finally gave another order, beckoning Maddox forward with the hand that wasn’t still wrapped around his cock.

Maddox obeyed willingly once again, and did not have to be encouraged further before licking along the underside of Spencer’s cock. Spencer moved his hand out of the way, giving Maddox more room, and the senator quickly took advantage. He leaned forward to suck at the tip, hardly pausing before taking more into his mouth. If Spencer hadn’t already known that Maddox had done all of this before, the ease with which he took his cock to the hilt would have given his experience away. Spencer moaned, shifting his hips slightly as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of the senator’s throat. Maddox swallowed around him several times before beginning to suck properly, resting his hands on Spencer’s thighs. “Good boy,” Spencer said again, running a hand through the senator’s hair encouragingly. He didn’t even know if Maddox particularly liked praise, but he wasn’t going to hold back when his partner was pleasing him so well.

He let Maddox set the pace; their positioning isn’t the best for mouthfucking, and Spencer would rather not overwhelm the senator, though his talent suggested that even that might be less overwhelming for him than expected. Spencer did keep a hand in Maddox’s hair, though; gently guiding his head up and back down again, making sure that he kept a steady pace as he sucks. Spencer didn’t hold back his soft sighs and moans, letting Maddox know how good it felt. “Do you want me to cum in your mouth?” He purred breathlessly after a while, feeling his climax building. He would rather cum all over Maddox’s face, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option at the moment. They both would have to go back out to greet the press later, of course. Maddox hummed in response, giving an affirmative as best he could in his position.

Spencer nodded, beginning to guide Maddox’s head again, faster now. He would be a lot rougher if he was really intent on mouthfucking the senator, but regardless of Maddox’s talent, this position was not the best for that. “I’m close-” he groaned just before his cock pulsed and he came hard down Maddox’s throat. Maddox moaned as much as he could with his mouth filled, looking up at Spencer with wide eyes. Spencer pulled out as slowly as he could before sitting back and gesturing for the senator to get up as well.

“In my lap.” He instructed, his tone cool and collected again. He never made much of a show out of his orgasms, no matter how good they were or who his partner was. He considered climaxing the expected result of such activities, and saw no need to be overly illustrative about them. He rarely, if ever, asked for a position like this, much preferring to watch his partner, but he expected that Maddox would enjoy this more than having Spencer simply look at him. He ran his hands over Maddox’s chest appreciatively once the senator was seated in his lap, tugging on his tie lightly just to watch Maddox react. The senator groaned softly, rocking his hips forward slightly. Spencer slid his hands down Maddox’s sides slowly before reaching around to grab the other man’s ass, gripping it firmly before slapping it a bit harder than necessary. The slap jerked a loud moan from Maddox, and Spencer smirked.

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter than that,” Spencer teased, looking up at Maddox. “I wouldn’t want to have to ruin this pretty tie of yours by gagging you with it,” he warned lightly, bringing a hand around to tug at the senator’s tie again. He could see Maddox swallow hard, obviously affected by his teasing, and moved his hand back to the senator’s ass. “Do you want to cum?” He continued his teasing, enjoying the effect it was having on Maddox, and dug his fingers into the other man’s ass just to watch him squirm.

“Yes-” Maddox gasped, bucking his hips forward desperately. Spencer chuckled softly.

“Mm. You’re not gonna mess up my nice suit, are you?” Spencer let the vaguely threatening note underlie his tone once again. Maddox shook his head quickly, biting his lip as he fought to keep himself quiet. “Turn around,” Spencer instructed, pulling his hands back to allow Maddox to move. “Use your hand on yourself, and don’t get cum on me.” He continued his orders, putting his hands back on the senator’s ass as soon as Maddox was settled again. He dug his fingers in again, not quite hard enough to hurt but hard enough for the other man to feel it. Maddox moaned loudly as he settled into a rhythm with his hand, stroking himself quickly. Spencer rolled his eyes, entirely unsurprised by the senator’s inability to keep himself quiet, and moved one hand off of his ass. “Here.” He pressed two of his fingers into Maddox’s mouth again, using them to keep him quiet.

Spencer moved to shift the vibrator teasingly with the hand still resting on Maddox’s ass, angling it into him in a way that made the other man squirm and moan louder than before. The senator tensed suddenly, bucking his hips and continuing to moan as he climaxed hard. He caught most of his cum with the hand that hadn’t been stroking his cock, leaning forward to grab a tissue to clean his hand off before anything had a chance to drip onto Spencer’s slacks. “Good boy,” Spencer purred, allowing Maddox to move off of his lap and turn around when he was steady enough to do so.

The senator leaned on the desk as he finished wiping off his hand, reaching back to remove the vibrator when he was cleaned up. “Mmh. Fuck.” Maddox readjusted his thong before tucking his cock away and pulling up his slacks. Spencer did the same, staying seated.

“We’re never talking about this again.” He stated, running a hand through his hair tiredly. Maddox opened his mouth to respond, but they were both distracted when the office door opened.

“Your dinner, Mr. President.” A few of the household staff members wheeled a small cart in, followed by two Secret Service agents. If any of them were surprised by Maddox’s presence, none indicated it. They stopped the cart a respectful distance away from the desk, setting out plates and silverware neatly before exiting the room quietly. Maddox stood, straightening his tie.

“Stay.” Spencer commanded before the senator had a chance to even take a step. Maddox gave him a mildly surprised look, but Spencer felt no need to justify his decision. He wasn’t about to give Maddox the satisfaction of hearing that his opinion of him had changed, and he also didn’t want to give the other man any excuse to go back to whining. Maddox was much more tolerable when he was being quiet, Spencer had decided.

He made his way over to the cart casually, aware that Maddox’s gaze had not left him since he’d spoken. “You know, I think I understand you better now,” he remarked, glancing at the other man. He didn’t wait for Maddox to respond before continuing conversationally, “You can have some of this as well. If you don’t eat now, you won’t have time to before we have to go back out there.” Maddox nodded, apparently agreeing with Spencer’s reasoning, and walked over to join him beside the cart.

“How do you understand me better?” The senator asked after both of them had finished filling their plates. Spencer returned to the desk chair before answering, setting his plate and wine glass carefully on the desk. Maddox followed, retaking his seat on the very edge of the desk and setting his plate on his lap. His gaze remained on Spencer as he waited for a response to his question.

“You’re a brat because you’re spoiled.” Spencer shrugged, his demeanor remaining nonchalant. He had no problem expressing his thoughts bluntly, especially to people like Maddox whose opinions of him were of no consequence to him.

“I am not.” Maddox retorted, though he did not have quite as much of an edge to his voice as he would have if he wasn’t talking to the President. Spencer rolled his eyes, turning his attention to his dinner. He could tell that Maddox would be more bothered by the loss of attention than he would be by any rebuttal Spencer could make.

“You’re more tolerable when you’re quiet.” He added, after making Maddox wait for a while. The senator did not protest this time, evidently smart enough to have figured out Spencer’s tactics. “And you’re smart enough to use that as a strategy, if you’d ever thought of it.” Spencer continued in the same casual tone. “Listen instead of opening your mouth all the time.” Maddox rolled his eyes.

“You seemed to enjoy it when I opened my mouth.” He quipped.

“I told you we’re never talking about that again.” Spencer responded, though his tone was not exactly harsh. He couldn’t say that he liked Maddox any more than he had before, but it was good to know that the man’s default setting of “annoying and whiny” did have an off switch. Unlike campaign rallies, unfortunately, which Spencer would continue to despise.

#Spencer/Maddox

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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here nerd. Part 2 is here

President Spencer Magnusson had been to a lot of campaign rallies in his life, and he could, by now, safely say that he despised them. He could now also, unfortunately, say that they were not improved in the slightest by having a whiny senator as his counterpart. Spencer had to hide a sneer even as he thought the words-there was no way in hell that Maddox Woodridge would ever be considered his “counterpart”, and quite frankly Spencer would rather not see him again after this.

Except that his Chief of Staff had quite graciously accepted an invitation for the afterparty of the rally to be held at Woodridge Manor, so whether he liked it or not Spencer would be dealing with Maddox for at least a few more hours. Or not. Spencer escaped from his so-called “counterpart” at the earliest opportunity, slipping away to the temporary office he had demanded to borrow for the duration of his stay.

He never felt bad about leaving anything early, but if he had, the guilt would have been easily offset by his intention of working while also hiding out in his office. He enjoyed the immediate peace and quiet that came with shutting the heavy oak door behind himself, and crossed the room to his desk. He would have only a few hours at most before he would be expected to make another appearance, but he planned to savor them.

Needless to say, he was more irritated than he initially let on when the oak door swung open again a mere half hour later. He might have been happier if it had been one of the many house staffers just poking their head in to tell him that dinner was ready, but it obviously wasn’t. Spencer didn’t even have to look up to know who his newest guest was: Maddox Woodridge. There was no way it could be anyone else; anyone with manners would have been polite enough to knock, at the very least, and certainly would have announced why they were entering. Maddox had done neither, and it irritated Spencer immensely. “Having fun?” Maddox asked, seating himself on the corner of Spencer’s desk, just barely in his peripheral vision.

Spencer grunted in response, unwilling to even give Maddox the courtesy of a proper reply. “Mm. Doesn’t look fun.” The senator swung a leg slightly. Spencer just barely glanced at him, just in time to watch him take a pen out of his pocket and idly chew on the tip. He rolled his eyes. It figured that Maddox would have such an unsanitary habit. Half of him wanted to bark at Maddox, tell him to get the hell out and stay out of everyone’s business for once in his life, but Spencer knew better. Maddox was just looking for attention, and any acknowledgement, even yelling, would only validate him. He let the senator continue speaking, doing his best to focus on the task at hand without allowing Maddox to get to him.

“Is that confidential?” Spencer’s best efforts to ignore the annoying senator were useless when Maddox leaned over, nearly pressed against his arm as he looked over Spencer’s paperwork. He still had the pen in his mouth, though Spencer was far more focused on Maddox’s words than his actions at the moment. “Do you think I’d get famous if you showed me confidential things and then a reporter found out?” Maddox seemed not to notice the way Spencer’s whole body had tensed. “I bet I would,” the senator continued idly, reaching up to play with the pen in his mouth.

Spencer moved before the other man could react, standing quickly and looming over the much shorter senator. “You’ll live a lot longer if you learn how to shut the fuck up,” he growled, clenching his fists as if he was considering punching Maddox. “I am the President of the United States and I will throw your annoying ass out a window if I hear one more word from you.” Maddox nodded, eyes wide. He swallowed hard, biting down harder on the pen in his mouth. “And good lord, stop sucking on that,” Spencer continued, snatching the pen from him easily. Maddox gasped quietly, half-reaching for the item reflexively before stopping himself.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, looking sufficiently ashamed. Spencer rolled his eyes, tossing the pen over his shoulder carelessly.

“Your oral fixation was obvious enough without the pen.” He crossed his arms, regarding the senator coolly. Though he had given in and acknowledged Maddox, Spencer didn’t regret it as much as he’d thought he would. “You have my attention now.” He stood up straighter, if that were possible, and gave Maddox his most stern expression as he continued, “Make it worth my time.”

“You took my pen away,” Maddox nearly whined. Spencer’s fingers twitched; he might have slapped the senator if he wasn’t literally on his home turf. The press would surely have a field day with that.

“There are better things you could do with your mouth.” Nothing in Spencer’s voice or posture changed as he spoke, but he regretted his phrasing the moment the words left his mouth. He hadn’t-for once-actually meant the innuendo, though the expression that crossed Maddox’s face nearly made it worth it.

“Like what?” Maddox shifted to the very edge of the desk eagerly, looking up at Spencer. His tone was no longer the petulant whine it had been mere moments before; instead, it was almost a purr. Faced with such a clear offer, even from someone he’d thought he despised, Spencer didn’t want to say no. It wasn’t as if he was picky about his sexual partners anyway, and Maddox would be much less annoying with his mouth otherwise occupied. Spencer thought that he might have done this sooner, if the senator wasn’t so goddamn irritating. As it was, he wasn’t going to give Maddox the satisfaction of a verbal answer. He raised a hand to the senator’s face, running his thumb over Maddox’s lips for a moment.

“Open.” He commanded, pressing his thumb more firmly against the other man’s lips. Maddox obeyed without question, opening his mouth enough for Spencer to slide his index and middle fingers in. “I know you know what to do,” he smirked. Maddox looked up at him as he began to move his tongue, licking skilfully. Spencer allowed him to continue for a few minutes, refusing to give the praise he knew Maddox was undoubtedly expecting. The senator followed orders with practiced ease; Spencer knew without asking that he had done this before, likely more than once. He pulled his hand away without a word, looking Maddox over and pointedly ignoring the resulting pout.

“We’ll need lube and a vibrator.” Spencer spoke after another silent moment, mentally planning out exactly how this encounter would go. He nearly smirked again when Maddox scrambled into action, producing both of the necessary items within a minute.

“This is my office.” He offered in explanation as he handed Spencer both the lube and a sparkly purple vibrator. Spencer wisely chose not to comment on the toy, sitting back down on the desk chair and putting both items on the desk in front of him.

“Good boy.” He praised Maddox lightly, sensing that to hold back now would discourage the senator from continuing to obey him. “Sit.” He gestured for Maddox to take a seat on the edge of the desk once again, looking him over with mild interest. “Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to use your vibrator on yourself. I’m going to watch you. And if you’re very good, I’ll let you have my cock in your mouth. Alright?”

#Spencer/Maddox

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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“Bread,” Ali announces her sudden presence in the room with the simple statement of her apprentice’s nickname. The stormtrooper looks up, not entirely surprised by her appearance. Despite her obvious lack of skill regarding force manipulation, training with her at all seems to have helped his own force sensitivity a bit. “Today, apprentice, we’re going to be drawing.” Ali looks down at him imposingly for a moment before smoothly dropping herself into a sitting position next to Reilly. He doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how she does that without hurting herself, and he doesn’t really want to ask, given that having her relatively level with him is much better than having her looming over him.

“Drawing?” Reilly manages to ask in the ensuing quiet, only to realize just after speaking that Ali had only paused for dramatic effect, and wasn’t finished speaking yet.

“Yes, Bread.” She nods authoritatively. “Drawing.” She produces a small stack of paper and a few pencils-Reilly doesn’t know how she does that, either; she doesn’t seem to have any kind of bag with her-and drops it in front of him. “Drawing ass-force without his helmet, to be exact.” Reilly gives her a more wide-eyed look than he means to, his breath catching in his throat. He’s known for ages that Ali wants to see Asche without his helmet on, and yes, he is on good terms with the young Sith-he hadn’t been able to deny having seen him without the helmet-but this...he doesn’t know how to feel about this.

“We can’t,” his mouth states before his brain can catch up. His mentor’s brow furrows in the way that Reilly has come to know means she’s about to argue. “You don’t understand, Ali-er, Mistress, whatever, if we do this, and he finds out, he will kill us.” Of course Reilly can’t know that for sure, but he knows that he certainly doesn’t want to risk it. “He will find out, too-you know how he is.” It’s a plea more than anything, but Reilly doesn’t mind how nervous he sounds. If it stops Ali from forcing him to do this, it’s worth it.

“Hm,” she considers this for a moment. “But you’ve seen him without the helmet.” She turns her gaze-all of her eyes, for once-to her apprentice as she mulls this over.

“Yes,” Reilly answers quickly. “I have. I could-if you want, I could describe him instead?” He hastens to give an alternative suggestion, still hoping to talk her out of her original plan. “I can’t draw, anyway.” Ali’s eyes light up again, thoughtful expression transforming into a gleeful one. She grins at Reilly, showing most of her oddly large teeth.

“That’ll work.” Ali nods definitively before shifting position, resting her elbows on the table in front of them and fixing all of her attention on her apprentice. “Tell me everything.”

Reilly nods, taking a moment to think of a good starting place before giving up and beginning with, “Well, he has brown eyes.” He glances at his mentor, watching her reaction.

She still looks positively gleeful as she asks, “Dark brown?”

The stormtrooper shakes his head, remembering the almost honey-toned hue of Asche’s eyes. “Sort of...light brownish,” he describes vaguely, unsure what terms to use to properly convey their exact shade. “Depends on the lighting, though.” He nods, smiling.

“What about his face? What shape is it? What is his nose like?” Ali is practically vibrating with excitement. Reilly does his best to hold back a laugh, not wanting to ruin her good mood.

“His face is kind of...pointy, like the rest of him.” He nods again, hoping his mentor won’t mind the vague descriptions. He really doesn’t know how best to describe the Sith without going on for ages about it. “He has sharp cheekbones...sort of average-sized lips, and his nose is pretty small, I guess.” Reilly continued, focusing on the details he remembered. “He’s probably younger than you’d expect.”

“How many eyes does he have?” Ali asks, sounding completely fascinated.

“Just two,” Reilly answers. After a moment, he continues with a chuckle, “His eyes aren’t the most unusual thing about him.”

“Are his ears like mine, or like a human’s?” His mentor tilts her head.

“He’s got pointy ears,” Reilly responds. “Larger than a human’s ears, but not incredibly so.”

“Are his teeth like mine?” Ali asks next, tilting her head the other way and helpfully opening her mouth a bit to again show off her unusual teeth. Reilly shakes his head.

“No, they’re smaller, and all of them are sharp.” He winces a bit at the memory, wishing he hadn’t found that out in the way that he had.

Ali gives him a serious, contemplative look before speaking again. “Meat teeth.” Reilly nods, equally as serious. Given that Asche keeps the helmet on at all times, he’s never actually seen the Sith eat, but the thought had occurred to him that teeth like that were meant for carnivores. “So is this what he looks like?” Ali picks up a sheet of paper, showing her apprentice the drawing on it.

“How did you-” Reilly starts, before realizing that Ali must have used the force to keep him focused on her while she drew. Instead of questioning her, he puts his attention into looking over the drawing. It’s not perfect, but his descriptions had been very vague. “It’s good. Looks like him.” He smiles at his mentor. Ali gives him another delighted smile.

“I can’t wait to show Ty~” she laughs, studying the drawing herself.

“Okay, but you can’t show Asche-” Reilly starts, breaking off as he looks over his mentor’s shoulder, eyes widening. Ali looks up, curious as to why he stopped talking, and then follows his gaze to the doorway of the room.

“Show me what?” Asche steps into the room.

#Ali & Reilly #sfw #the Space Gays

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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So this is kind of about soul mates and being meant for one another in every conceivable universe but also it is just otp trash??? Every scene is purposely vague but who knows...........I might go back and actually use some of these AUs. Anyway, Merry Christmas!!

Universe 1: Space Pirates

“You know, it’s probably a waste of time to hate me when there are about a thousand people hunting the both of us right now,” Arthur has to shout to be heard over the roar of the damaged engine. Francis yanks the controls to the right and tries to resist the urge to simply let go and allow the ship to spiral into oblivion-he has his seatbelt on. Arthur, on the other hand, does not.

“I never claimed to be against wasting time.” Francis responds after managing, rather disappointingly, to force the ship to level out. He supposes he could always sabotage Arthur’s ship later-as soon as they get it back, of course. “I hate thieves,” he curses more quietly, thinking about how Arthur is here, on his ship, and they’ve been shot at and almost stabbed and very nearly killed in a crash landing-but it doesn’t matter now, they’re finally on their way to get Arthur’s bloody ship back so that he can leave and stop being such a nuisance.

“This is quite a lot of buttons,” Arthur comments as he straps himself into the copilot’s chair. Francis jumps, his train of thought derailed, and then rolls his eyes.

“Yours has nothing but a ‘go’ button and a ‘stop’ button, hm?” He raises a manicured brow. Arthur gives him an offended look, but doesn’t bother yelling a retort. “I don’t need a copilot,” Francis continues coolly. Arthur doesn’t move.

“I’m already here,” he replies, and Francis, for once, doesn’t argue.

Later, when they are relatively safe and patching up the broken engine-Francis had made Arthur help him, because it’s his fault that the ship had been hit in the first place-they talk. Francis had never been interested in talking to Arthur before, but given the lack of any better company, he’d set his pride aside for the evening. After a few hours of work, he steps back and looks everything over; the ship really isn’t that much worse for wear.

His gaze travels over the nose, across the chassis, down the wing and ends up, inexplicably, on Arthur. The other man’s clothing is streaked with oil and dirt-Francis is sure he isn’t much better-reaching up to tighten one last bolt. He looks away from the task for a moment, perhaps sensing his rival’s gaze on him, and Francis is already leaning over, and they kiss and Arthur doesn’t immediately kill Francis afterwards.

Universe 2: Secret Agents

“Of all the bloody people to get stuck with-” Arthur is still cursing as he looks over the blueprints, one finger tracing over the planned route. Francis leans over his shoulder, warmed by the closeness he knows the shorter man will hate. “Stop that.” Arthur moves away, jabbing Francis in the ribs with a bony elbow.

“You don’t have to be so unfriendly,” Francis complains, though he is very aware of his own role in this rivalry. He will not allow Arthur any kind of victory over him, despite his kind words. “This would be more fun if you were more...open to compromise.” He raises a brow in a suggestive manner, leering exaggeratedly at the other agent when Arthur looks up.

“Ugh, don’t do that,” Arthur makes a disgusted face. Francis laughs past the sharp twinge of hurt between his ribs. Now is hardly the time for feelings, even he can recognize that.

“If you aren’t going to let me see the map while you are still looking at it, hurry up and finish memorizing.” Francis snaps after a moment. Arthur glares at him, but moves aside. Francis smirks.

“Of all the people to get stuck with, indeed,” he murmurs, running his own finger lightly over the paper.

“Y-You’re not so bad, really,” Arthur admits softly, his words loud in the quiet room. Francis lets out a pleased noise, pressing closer to his companion, his partner, the first true company he’s had in what feels like ages. Arthur rolls his eyes. “Don’t push your luck too far, you twit.” He slaps Francis away, but there isn’t any force behind the movement, and he relaxes into Francis’ arms when the man reaches for him again moments later.

Universe 3: Roommates

“Would you hurry the fuck up?” Francis pounds on the bathroom door, the time for polite knocks and gentle words long past. Arthur laughs derisively, and Francis considers throwing a chair through the door.

“This is what I go through every bloody morning,” the Englishman retorts. Francis throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly, though he makes sure not to verbalize his anger. Anything he gives Arthur will be used as ammunition against him later, he knows.

“I was making breakfast,” he shouts after a long period of silence. He’s pretty sure Arthur is just texting at this point, his prolonged commandeering of the bathroom based in antagonism rather than any real need of the room. “I made some for you,” Francis continues in a softer tone, hoping to placate his roommate by switching tactics. He hadn’t actually made any extra waffles, but that doesn’t matter-as soon as Arthur gives up the bathroom it will be Francis’ to take, and he will be safe behind the locked door when his roommate discovers the lie.

“Francis, are you ready to go?” Alfred’s boisterous voice fills the dorm. Francis lets out an annoyed huff of breath. Arthur laughs. It’s already ten minutes past the time Francis should have left for class.

“You may have won the battle, Arthur, but you will not win the war,” he mumbles under his breath as he goes to meet Alfred at the door. He hopes none of his classmates will notice his unstyled hair.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says later. Francis nods and takes another drink from the wine bottle he’d commandeered early on in the evening. The wine is half gone now, and so is his common sense. “I didn’t mean to cause you any real discomfort.” His words are slurred, too. Francis slides off the edge of the couch and stumbles when he tries to stand. Arthur watches him cautiously. Doesn’t move away when Francis is suddenly very close.

“It’s just my hair, Arthur,” he purrs, his voice throaty with drunkenness and emotions he’d never admit to sober. Arthur’s words get caught in his throat-’you’re beautiful’, he’d meant to say, or perhaps ‘don’t go anywhere’-and he doesn’t protest when Francis’ lips find his own.

Universe 4: Lawyers

“You’re an ass, Arthur,” Francis snaps. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“You say that only because we’re winning,” He retorts easily, lips curved up slightly in a smirk. Francis lets out an angry sigh. Arthur’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly. “You can’t win them all, of course.” The words would be comforting, perhaps, if they didn’t come from Arthur. Francis sneers.

“Of course I can’t win them all. Not against you. Because you’re so great.” He lets his anger overwhelm him and spill past his lips. If Arthur is surprised, he doesn’t show it. They both have impressive poker faces when they choose to, after all. Usually Francis is the one using his while Arthur yells; the role switch is a bit unsettling.

“Glad you understand, Francis.” Arthur’s smirk widens momentarily before he turns away. Francis is, for once in his life, left speechless, though the desire to strangle the other man is very familiar.

“You’re right, winning isn’t everything,” Francis admits later. Arthur grins at him from his own barstool and orders himself another scotch. “But I do love winning.” He nods, speaking to himself just as much as to Arthur. Their eyes meet as Francis stands, a bit wobbly already though he’s only had a two or three drinks. “But I love watching you lose even more,” his grin matches Arthur’s own as he leans into the other man’s space. Neither of them are drunk enough to justify this, and neither of them care enough to try. Arthur thinks of a lot of things to say-this game isn’t remotely morally sound, they gamble with people’s lives, they shouldn’t be trivializing their work...but instead he simply leans into the kiss Francis presses to his lips and almost-almost-wishes he’d lost.

Universe 5: Sith

“There can be only two: master, and apprentice.” They’ve heard the stories so many times that they can nearly recite them from memory. Arthur can, at least; he’s tried. “Why do you exist, then?” Francis had shouted at him on the first night of their shared apprenticeship. Arthur had shrugged, and let Francis’ anger burn between them.

“Don’t,” Arthur had advised his rival not two hours ago, staring down the burning blade of his blood red lightsaber. “It’s what they want, you know. What the Jedi want.” He had smiled at the flicker of anger in Francis’ eyes at the mention of the Jedi. Arthur has heard the story of Francis’ recruitment from their master many times, has heard it and remembered it. He doesn’t know whether Francis knows as much about him, and has never felt curious enough to ask.

I won’t kill you if you won’t kill me, Francis’ words ring now, once again, through his head. Francis’ words seem to do that a lot. He had nodded. Had given something to his rival, some show of solidarity. He doesn’t know yet if he regrets it.

There can be only two. Francis is in the doorway now. His hand is on the hilt of his blade. Arthur meets his eyes. “There will be only two,” he grins. “Us.” Arthur’s heart skips a beat at the words, and he breathes yes.

Francis belongs on a throne, Arthur thinks. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off of his companion as they fight-not each other this time but a shared enemy-so he doesn’t. Their energies are linked now, he realizes. “We can practically move as one, if we want,” he breathes later, before the shakiness from adrenaline has even worn off. Francis grins.

“Do you want to?” He purrs. Arthur nods, the word ‘yes’ exhaled on a soft breath. He doesn’t expect Francis to kiss him, but he doesn’t pull away. “This is where we are meant to be,” Francis purrs, and Arthur is very inclined to agree.

#merr cristmas lauren #u the best #arthur is also the best #tho he will deny it #sfw

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literary-luxxury · 9 years ago

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this was supposed to be smut

“You’re early.” There’s only the faintest hint of annoyance in Kieran Lord’s voice, but Drew picks up the feeling in a wave, a smirk turning up one corner of his mouth. He hates this city-planet, the way the very air feels as though it is suffocating him, but he pretends, for now, to be fascinated by the cityscape spread out before him. Kieran insists on meeting in only the best hotel rooms-anything less than “ridiculously expensive” and he promises he won’t show up. Drew doesn’t know whether or not Kieran just likes making him pay for these outings, but he has never felt curious enough to ask.

“You’re late,” he responds mildly after a long period of silence. He can feel Kieran’s continued irritation with him, but this is normal. The Jedi lets out an offended huff, but he doesn’t challenge Drew. Not tonight. Drew’s smirk blossoms into a full-blown grin as he turns to face his companion. “So. How much business do you think we can get through?” The question is casual, but the challenge is clear. Kieran returns his grin.

“Enough, if we focus.” His response is deliberately vague. Drew can feel the excitement pulsing through him, his heart pounding as he considers what is to come, as he tries to keep his mind off of- “No cheating.” Kieran snaps, withdrawing into himself and concealing his feelings more carefully. Drew scowls, but concedes, taking a seat on the too-large, overly plush couch. Kieran drapes himself over an armchair, letting his robe slip off of one shoulder. He is nothing if not graceful; Drew envies that about him. He wishes, sometimes, that he had the ability to watch the Jedi; watch him run, watch him laugh, watch him fight-all graceful curves and sharp-edged smiles. “You aren’t listening.” Kieran puts his feet up on the coffee table. Drew sneers at him.

“I don’t need to listen. I’m not here to listen. I’m-” He goes still as a sharp bolt of feeling rushes through him, the name Killian slicing through his thoughts so loudly that he thinks he might have said it aloud. When he returns to his reality after a moment, Kieran is grinning more broadly at him. “See? We didn’t have time for anything,” Drew sneers again, more effectively this time.

“Are you going to fuck me on the couch or will you be nicer tonight and let me have the bed?” Kieran asks, as flatly as he might have asked about the weather outside. Drew considers the question, hardly rushing to give the Jedi an answer. “We haven’t got all night, Drew,” Kieran is trying to sound stern, but the hot pulse of arousal that shoots through both of them effectively negates that, his tone becoming a purr.

“Actually, knowing them, we probably do,” Drew comments as he stands. “If we can make it to the bedroom, you can have the bed.” He compromises, keeping his eyes on Kieran. The Jedi nods, sliding his robe off as he stands as well. Their clothing always seems to end up scattered across the hotel room, no matter how conscientious Drew has attempted to be in the past. He doesn’t bother so much now, since this is nothing but a casual encounter. It always has been, of course, but he’d cared more in the beginning. Kieran had kissed him then, the first time, his eyes fluttering closed as they slipped out of their clothes slowly, standing close together in the dim light of a room much less expensive than this one. Drew had nearly let himself feel something for the Jedi. That had been before he’d woken up alone the next morning, of course.

“Hurry up,” Kieran demands, already halfway across the room. Drew does hurry up, but only for his own sake-he has never let Kieran order him around and that isn’t about to start now. Neither of them are their brothers; despite the hot sparks of sensation currently shooting through him, Drew would rather dominate than submit. The opposite of what he can feel his brother begging for.

“I told you we have time, baby,” Drew drawls, catching up to Kieran in the bedroom doorway. They never make it easy for each other, and Drew has noted that the rules of this game have become progressively more rigid as time has progressed. He gets away with less now, Kieran’s guard stays up the whole time, unless he gets extraordinarily lucky, and Kieran has never stayed long enough for Drew to wake up beside him. There’s a sharp longing in Drew’s chest, though he doesn’t acknowledge it, to see Kieran’s face in the sunlight. He doesn’t know where that foolishness came from.

“And I’ve told you that my bond is stronger than yours, so-ah-this is far more torturous for me than it is for you.” Kieran sheds his clothes quickly and sets to work on Drew’s before Drew can even think to move. “Say it, Drew,” he demands after a moment. Drew, as usual, is mildly embarrassed that Kieran doesn’t even have to specify anymore what “it” is; the words spring nearly unbidden to his tongue.

“I’m not going to give you any information unless you let me have you,” he purrs. After all this time, he knows exactly how to say it. Kieran grins and, having been given his excuse, wraps his hand around Drew’s length. Drew never tires of his companion’s boldness, though he had been shocked the first time. “Is your brother like this too?” He’d asked breathlessly. Kieran had leaned in for another kiss and grinned when both of their Force-bonds sent pleasure coursing through them. That had been enough of an answer for Drew.

Drew lets Kieran work his hand over him until he’s fully hard, though he isn’t sure whether it’s Kieran’s touch or the rough sex Dakota and Killian are obviously having that really gets him going. He supposes the blurriness of that particular line is what makes this fun-he and Kieran can both feel exactly what’s going on wherever their brothers are, and those feelings only intensify their own pleasure. “Fuck me,” Kieran demands after a while, tossing a little bottle of lube to his companion as he lays back on the bed. Kieran has never been very good at subtleties-Drew would also like very much to see him try and negotiate anything-but right now the bluntness of his tone doesn’t seem to matter much.

“Figures that you already prepped yourself. You never let me have that much fun,” Drew mutters as he drags his slick hand over his own cock, keeping his eyes on his companion. Kieran doesn’t dignify the complaint with a reply, and Drew does his best to hide his attraction to the way the Jedi shudders at the feeling of Dakota doing something very inappropriate to Killian. He leans over Kieran a moment later, taking up his field of vision and enjoying the resulting hitch in his companion’s breath. He tries not to hesitate before positioning himself and sliding slowly into the Jedi, but he knows Kieran can feel his mild nervousness.

“Drew,” Kieran’s voice is nearly a whisper. Drew looks up, fully expecting his companion’s next words to be an order, ‘fuck me’, perhaps, or ‘move already’, but the Jedi simply studies him for a moment, their eyes meeting. “Is it me you like, or is it-” he breaks off, his voice stuttering, but resumes a moment later, “Is it them?” Drew blinks silently as if to clear his head, stares at Kieran, and blinks again.

“Kieran-” He shifts his hips forward, the movement coinciding with one of Dakota’s and making him see stars. “Kieran, I…” He doesn’t finish the statement, letting it hang in the air between them. Kieran reaches up, gripping his shoulders as they move together, their attention fixed on the pleasure. Drew does his best to draw it out, to draw his time with Kieran like this out, as usual, but as usual it ends far too soon.

“What were you going to say?” Kieran asks into the darkness when they are tangled together in the sheets and the silence afterwards. Drew feels Killian sliding a hand through Dakota’s hair, and sighs.

“If you stay till morning, I’ll buy you breakfast,” he compromises with his own internal dialogue. There’s a pause, then a shift of the sheets as Kieran turns to face him. Drew doesn’t verbalize it, but the please hangs in the space between them. Kieran nods.

“I’ll stay until morning,” he whispers. Drew smiles, and accepts that Dakota will probably tease him about this forever. That seems a small price to pay for this sudden rush of happiness.

#merr crismas cass #i kno u hate but here have some Feelings #vague nerd baby feelings #sfw

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