#ch: vader x sabé

[hanasnx]

❝ in another life. ❞

── darth vader x sabé

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 1.5k SUMMARY: sabé shares the face of lord vader’s late wife. when sabé puts herself in a compromising position, vader can’t help but remember her face elsewhere. NOTES: picture source, i edited the colors | didnt read this comic run of darth vader tbh, only seen bits and pieces. WARNINGS: sexual content | angst no comfort | sub!anakin | fellatio | smut flashback | angst flashback.

"He's... harmless." SABÉ's words falter as her eyes lay on him. Standing at nearly seven feet tall, DARTH VADER towers over everyone in her company. Her watchful eyes catch how he flinches away from Gregar, who merely stepped too close in order to get a better look at his damaged control panel.

"You know that's not true. I'm not saying this just because he's coarse and uncooperative, the man has betrayed us in the past." Saché keeps her voice level and hushed for privacy. It wouldn’t be the first time their guest has eavesdropped on conversations he has no business in.

Sabé, surprisingly quick to jump to his defense, shocks herself when she rounds on her partner. "Betrayed is a strong word, Saché, he saved my life."

"By being dishonest! I can still feel—!" Saché's objection trails off as she cups the air around her neck, signalling the Force touch that violated her a couple hours ago. "I can still feel his hand around my throat, sister. It's not worth it."

At the grim reminder of Darth Vader's famous temper, Sabé's gaze returns to him to see he's sat down, cautiously fiddling with his sparking indicators. She swallows, and feels her heart unclench at the sight. "Fuck." she mutters, kicking the dirt of the ground. "Isn't she worth it, Saché?"

Her companion quiets in remembrance of their fallen Queen. Lord Vader, as crass and oppositional as he's been, has been a fair aid in avenging the former Senator Padmé Amidala's wrongful death.

Sabé excuses herself with a reassuring squeeze to Saché's bicep, and saunters to Vader's location. A current of electricity pricks at his finger, and he waves it from its reach, forming a defiant fist at his own suit. Sache's arguments echo within her mind, at war with herself over Vader's insistence to join her brigade and her cause. He's dangerously unpredictable, which makes for disastrous consequences if she allows him sanctuary within the Amidalans or turns him away. The Enforcer of the Empire is hardly negotiable, and saying no to him may not be possible. For now.

As she passes a toolbox, she snatches it by its handle to bring to him, setting it down on the bench aside him with a clatter. He's unresponsive as she sifts through it for the necessary materials, retrieving a hand-held welder. "Let me." she tells him as she approaches him. Unlike Gregar, she's not shooed away, nor flinched from. When she takes a knee, his expressionless durasteel eyes follow her movement.

"What do you think you're doing?" Deep, rich bravado fills her ears with a tone of unnerve.

"It's the duty of a leader. You were injured honorably, the least I can do is fix the mistake I caused." With every word, Sabé realizes how she unconsciously caters to him. Shifts her syntax around in order to satiate his pride and his fragile obedience. When did she become so adept at talking to him?

She reaches her hands to the panel, two of his indicators blinking in a fritz. Without thinking, he seizes her appendages, arresting them in suspension. To question him, she lifts her chin to meet his gaze, so to speak.

"Don't."

There's that fear again, an inkling of it. It slithers from an instinctive place in her brain, the kind from the dark ages, the fear of predators. The grip on her hands is uncharacteristically tender, and it snaps her out of her trance. She steels herself. He is just a man, even if his limbs are of metal. "You're making it worse. I'll be done quickly." Swiftly, she jerks her hands from his, and curls her fingers around the covering of the panel, sliding the pads along it until she finds the give. She presses, and the covering splits from the box with a hiss. If she's not mistaken, she'd swear she heard a sharp inhale from his mouthpiece. The rhythm of it increases, and she worries his breathing apparatus has been affected by battle. When in reality it's her position knelt on the ground in front of him that resurfaces fond memories of a girl in his past that shares her face.

Nimble, beautiful, perfect hands slide up his thighs, hook into the waistband of his pants, adjusting them down as cold knuckles brush and juxtapose the wretched heat of his skin. He can't sit still, writhing under her experienced touch as she fondles his half-flaccid length, hardening it with all she knows he loves. "I love you, my Ani, you know that. Right?"

Breathless and desperate, he grits his teeth as he nods, "Yes— of course, my love. I can feel it. I feel it in how you touch me. So sweet," his ramblings stretch her existing smile, it dazzles him enough to make his cock twitch as she pumps it. "This is how you love me."

"I intend to love you with my mouth, too. If that's what you'd like," She's playing coy, dipping closer and closer to his erection in her manicured hand. He bucks his hips at the notion, earning her addicting laughter. Giggles that sound like bells, like music. "Well, do you?" she tests him further. The clutch onto the edge of his seat flexes his entire body when he lurches.

"Yes!" he exhales sharply. "Anything. I want anything you'll give me, Mé. Please, love me- love me." Desperate whisperings that make his little wife settle further in between his spread legs, a kitten lick to his swollen and colored head, blushing purple in its strain.

Affectionately, she envelopes his glans into the warmth of her mouth, and a pitchy keen leaves his parted lips. Involuntarily, his body rises to meet her, and she accepts him with a startled noise, followed shortly by the wet squelch of spit and pre-cum hitting the back of her throat. A hum of approval reverberates through his sensitive velvety skin and he cries out, a large hand palming the back of her head as he pursues his high. Her little hands brace on his clothed thighs, and squeeze. Unable to tear his eyes away from such a captivating sight, he watches the delicate countenance of his wife twist in arousal as he rocks into her. Beautiful as ever, gorgeous and supple, he could never get tired of looking at her. Everything he could ever want, everything he needs. How could he look at anyone else when she exists? When she is his? He whimpers a string of disconnected words as he rides her faithful mouth, "Fuck- fuck, Mé. I love you, I love you so dearly. Oh, my sweet. My sweet Mé."

Vader clenches his jaw so hard his teeth ache, no matter how hard he tries he cannot stop reliving that moment. Cannot stop visualizing what it would be like to relive it right now. Sabé's brows are knitted in concentration as she repairs him. A selfless act that's admirable in and of itself, and like a fool he lets his guard down. Where is his tenacity? His aversion to trust someone to tend to him? His paranoia that in this vulnerable state he'll be taken advantage of? What's stopping this stranger from worsening his weakened state to finish him off when he's unable to defend himself?

But when he gazes down at her, all he sees is his wife. His wife who was the last person to sit between his legs, lovingly caressing him to attention, enveloping him in her forgiving nature, and sunning him with her warm affections. This is the first time he's missed sex. Impassioned, torrid, impetuous love-making. Guilt comes just as fast. Lusting after the woman who resembles his late wife is the sin of sins, one that imbues him with anger so potent he commands distance.

"Stop."

Sabé is taken aback at the timing, but it's not altogether unexpected he'd finally process his surroundings and refuse her. "I'm almost done—"

"Enough." Tired of her questioning, he clamps around her wrist to shove it away from him, hastily replacing the panel himself to stand. As he does, he lifts Sabe with him.

"What the hell—?" She winces from his viced grip, bracing a hand on his wrist as if to relieve some of the pressure.

That face. Her skew in pain. She doesn't get the chance to order him to release her when blasters are drawn, trained on him for his transgression, but they're not the reason he drops her.

"No..." Teary. Anguished. Heartbroken. "Anakin..." she'd said.

The last words he ever heard her speak, and it was with his Force touch bound around her throat. Sabé lands on her feet, and attempts damage control, commanding her company to stand down. An intelligent advisement he would've commended if he'd heard it. Instead, he flees.

[hanasnx]

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✩ in another life | SUMMARY: sabé shares the face of lord vader’s late wife. when sabé puts herself in a compromising position, vader can’t help but remember her face elsewhere.

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