[fic] For Thine is the Kingdom (3/4, NC17, for vikkir)
Why do I have no porn icon? I'll have to go find one, though not tonight, as I've got blasted morning classes tomorrow and need to go to bed after I post this if I want to be functional. Also, the last chapter of this is finished and has been betad, but there are several revisions I need to make, so you'll get it in a few days.
Anyway, here be the porniest thing I've written in over a year. :p
Title: For Thine is the Kingdom
Author: Rynne
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: NC17
Summary: Vader will do anything to persuade Luke to the Dark Side...post-ESB Luke/Vader slash/incest
Warning: This is rated NC17 for father/son incestual slash, sexual acts, dubious consent, and (possible) disturbing themes. If you do not think you can handle such things maturely, please do not read.
Notes: Thank you to jedibix783 for betaing. Written for and dedicated to vikkir, who asked me for L/V slash. Hope you like it. :)
This chapter has everything that I warned for. Please exercise your judgment when choosing whether to read or not.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
3
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
Why didn't I finish my training, again? Luke sighed and brushed hair away from his face, shifting on the bed.
He was meditating. Or trying to, at least. Vader had left a few hours before, despite whatever he'd said about converting Luke being his main duty right then, and Luke figured he might as well use the time to get himself under better control. He hadn't exactly done well at achieving peace during their last conversation.
But he couldn't concentrate. The Force swirled around him, and he could touch it, but when he tried to grab hold it would dance away from him like a skittish tauntaun. His frustration would mount, which would then lead to him having less control than before, and the cycle would start again.
He wanted to touch the Force. He wanted that refreshing coolness, after remembering the discomfort and heat of several hours ago. He wanted to let the Force soothe away his worries about the future, but those selfsame worries kept him from touching the Force in the first place. How Master Yoda would scold him for letting the future take over his thoughts...
The future...and Vader. Luke shivered, despite the long sleeves of his shirt and the mild temperature of the room.
Some time, and most likely soon, Vader was going to return, and then he would try to turn Luke again, with those "other methods" he mentioned, and Luke couldn't help but be nervous at the thought. Perhaps that was why Vader had left him alone--he wanted him to stew, to think about it, to maybe come to the conclusion that there was no point in fighting because he couldn't win.
Always in motion is the future. Maybe he couldn't win--but then again, maybe he could. He wouldn't know until he was tested.
As if the thought had been a summoning, the door opened and Vader strode in. His black mask was as impenetrable as ever, but Luke thought he could feel an undercurrent of--anticipation, through their bond.
It did not help Luke's nerves.
"Come with me," Vader said, and then turned around and left the room again. But when Luke didn't follow him, he turned back, and said, with lurking impatience, "Come."
"No," Luke said, with as much calm as he could muster. "I don't know what you're going to do, but I want no part of it. I won't go with you."
Vader stood for a moment, seeming almost surprised, as if he'd never been so deliberately defied before. Then again, apart from his encounters with Luke, that was probably likely.
Finally, he said, "No matter. It will be cramped, but it can be done here. In fact," he continued, looking around, "it is probably for the best, anyway."
"What can be done here? What's for the best?" Luke asked suspiciously. "What do you intend to do?" His heart began to beat faster, adrenalin rushing through his body in a manifest of nerves, despite his trying to stay calm.
"From emotion and passion come strength," Vader said. "In order to be strong, you must feel."
"I feel emotion all the time," Luke retorted. His heart was still beating rapidly. "Hasn't done me much good."
"That is because you do not let it," Vader said. "That is weakness, which the Jedi never understood. Denying feelings does not make them go away. You must embrace the emotions, use them, and do not let them use you. Emotion can give you a power that peace cannot."
"I don't want power," Luke said, sure on that point, at least. "Not like that."
"Not even for your Alliance?" Vader asked. "Not even to save your princess and your friend? Not even to defeat me?"
"Not at the cost of giving up my soul," Luke said flatly. "The Alliance can take care of itself, and so can Han and Leia. They've been doing it for longer than I've known them."
Vader snorted. "The Alliance could not even hold its own before you arrived and destroyed the Death Star," he replied, openly contemptuous. "Princess Leia was scheduled for execution when you found her, and Solo is encased in carbonite and needing rescue. They cannot always take care of themselves, and when they cannot, they need you, because of the power you hold."
"I've helped the Alliance and Leia without the Dark Side," Luke returned, "and I intend to do the same with Han when we find him. I don't need what you're offering."
"Foolish boy," Vader hissed. "You think you can prepare for every eventuality? That the weak Light will aid you in every circumstance? When the Light has let you down and you are needing of more strength, more power, then you will want the Dark Side."
"I don't think it will let me down," Luke said. "It hasn't yet."
"Oh?" Vader said caustically. "Then you were able to defeat me on Bespin, using your Light? You are not sitting there listening to me now, because the Light Side helped you escape from my clutches?"
Luke flushed. "I--" he began, but Vader interrupted him.
"Do not bother to continue your protest," he said. "I did not come here to argue with you again."
"Then why are you doing it?" Luke muttered, still audible enough to be heard, but Vader ignored it, and stepped closer.
"Emotion," he said. "Passion. Sensation. Let yourself feel them, Luke, and you will understand."
Luke opened his mouth to protest, though what exactly he would say he didn't know, but then something shoved him hard enough in the back that he would have fallen forward had he not put his feet on the floor and stood up. He swiftly turned around, searching for the new threat, but there was nothing behind him. Then something seized his shoulder and spun him so that he was facing Vader again--Vader, who was standing there with his arms crossed, looking at him.
And he and Vader were the only ones in the room.
Luke looked at Vader for a moment, not quite sure what to think. But not even Vader could be so quick as to shove and grab Luke and then step back and stand as nonchalantly as he was, not without Luke seeing him move.
"I am rather infamous for asphyxiating people with the Force," Vader commented, almost tangentially, but Luke could sense that he had a point. Then he made it. "Being able to touch them without touching them," he continued. "It is a simple thing, to create a hand made of nothing but Force energy, but one that could do whatever a real hand can."
"So--what?" Luke asked, understanding now what had happened, but not why. "You're going to choke me without touching me? Or beat me up, or whatever?"
Vader gave the impression of quirking an eyebrow, though the mask was as impenetrable as ever. "I could," he said. "There is a reason why pain is part of a standard interrogation; enough of it causes those subjected to it to break, to say or do anything to make it stop. There is another method of interrogation, though more often used in conjunction with and as a counterpoint to pain, and that is pleasure. Pleasure, no less than pain, can cause those subjected to it to break, because they will say or do anything to make it continue."
Luke stared. That was...well, unexpected would be an understatement. "Pleasure?" he repeated, almost choking on the word. "What are you going to do?" Then he added, before Vader could reply, "You know, it would probably give me the most pleasure if you let me go."
Vader snorted. "Unlikely," he said. Then, "Take your shirt off."
Luke stared, again. "What?" he asked. "Why?"
"Because it will make things easier for both of us," Vader answered.
"Good reason not to do it, then," Luke retorted. "What will make things easier for me is if you let me go. I don't particularly want to make things easier for you. I'm sure you understand."
"Nevertheless," Vader said, "you will take it off, or I will take it off for you. Your choice."
"Another one of your choices," Luke muttered. "Wonderful." But he did take the shirt off, because he was sure that Vader wasn't bluffing when he said that he would do it if Luke didn't. He laid the shirt behind him on the bed, and fought the urge to fidget. If he'd felt exposed to Vader's gaze before, when he was fully dressed, he felt doubly so now. And he wondered, more than ever, just what it was that Vader intended to do.
When he looked at Vader again, whose head was tilted, that masked stare gazing at him, considering, he frowned. "What?" he asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "D'you want me to take the pants off, too?"
"That will not be necessary," Vader replied. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" Luke choked. "What--"
But he fell silent when a phantom hand covered his mouth, and was still silent as it moved away, tracing his jaw, drifting across his cheek and down his neck. He shivered, goosebumps popping up on his skin despite the warm temperature of the room. He closed his eyes, for a moment, as the hand rested on his shoulder; but when it slid down his chest, taking a nipple between unseen fingers and pinching, his eyes flew open again, and he couldn't stay silent any longer.
"What are you doing?" he asked, crossing his arms again, trying to push the hand away. He wanted to back up, get farther away from Vader, but he was at the edge of the bunk as it was, and he couldn't get back any further. And the hand just rested itself on his shoulder again.
"What did it feel like I was doing?" Vader inquired, crossing his own arms. "Surely you understand."
Luke didn't mean to, but he flushed. Had he ever felt this uncomfortable before? He didn't think so. "Not very fatherly of you," he snapped, and his eyes narrowed when he felt Vader's amusement.
"You didn't even know I was your father until two weeks ago," he pointed out. "Not that either of us have had any chance to be a father or a son." And his mood seemed to darken at that.
"This doesn't seem the best way to start," Luke said, feeling behind him for his shirt.
But Vader noticed what he was doing, and an unseen hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as his own hand closed around the material. A finger reached up and caressed the skin above his pulse, and out of surprise his hand opened, and the shirt dropped away.
"I am not doing this as your father," Vader said, and the hand, still holding Luke's wrist, began to pull him away from the bed, closer to Vader. "I am doing this as your teacher. Would you not like to learn how to do this as well?"
Can you separate the two that easily? I don't think you can. I don't think I can. But another hand pressed itself against his chest, sweeping itself along his skin, causing the skin to tingle madly where the hand had been. Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the hand on his chest and the other running up his arm, and said, with as much poise as he could manage, "No, thanks. And I'd really rather you stop now."
"You don't like it?" Vader asked, one phantom hand now on his back, tracing his spine, lingering around each vertebrae.
"That's not the point," Luke protested, taking in a ragged breath. One hand was still exploring his back, and the other was drawing circles on his chest with one finger. How am I supposed to be able to think when he's doing that? Then he mentally snorted. I'm not, of course. And it was very hard to think.
"It's exactly the point," Vader countered. "It is a simple question. Do you like it?"
"No," Luke answered quickly, and that was true, partly. He did like the sensation of those phantom fingers ghosting across his skin, caressing and exploring, but he didn't like who was doing it, and why.
But as much as it was true, it was also a lie, and Vader caught it, and sighed. "Why do you cling to your inhibitions?" he asked. "Propriety will get you nowhere here, and discarding it brings greater rewards."
Luke narrowed his eyes. "You would think that," he said. "But I care more about morality than expediency."
"How very cumbersome," Vader said. "But that can be fixed."
And before Luke could begin to answer, the unseen hand on his chest slid down to his groin--and grabbed. Luke yelped and tried to jump backwards, but his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell on it, ending up sprawled on his back, with Vader towering over him.
"Don't!" Luke shouted, not knowing what he was going to do--what he wanted to do--should Vader continue. "Don't!"
But Vader moved closer, an inexorable force. He reached down and caught Luke's bare shoulders in his real hands--and Luke was lost.
Connection. They were tied so closely...it was so intense. He felt everything that Vader wanted him to feel, a bundle of emotions that hit him all at once and that he had no idea what to do with. He felt cold, then hot, and then a wave of desire rushed over him and overwhelmed everything else. He felt himself harden, and had to close his eyes at the embarrassment of his body's betrayal.
Don't think, Vader whispered into his mind, a cool voice and power surrounding him, buoying him up. It sounded little like the Vader he knew, but still it was his voice; it could be no other's, with the strength of the bond behind it. Don't think. Feel.
I'm feeling! he cried, throwing his head back, as the phantom hand started stroking his hardening length through his pants, the cloth rubbing against sensitive skin almost driving him mad. The other had slid around to his hip and settled there, a strange pressure without temperature. I want to stop. It's too much--too much!
That is because you are thinking, as well as feeling, Vader told him. The voice itself was like a caress, and Luke couldn't stop himself from leaning into it, that place deep inside him where the bond between them was rooted. Let go, Luke. Let yourself go.
He didn't want to. He wanted to hold on, as tightly as he could, but his skin felt more tender than it ever had before, and every stroke along his length sent a jolt through him that was impossible to ignore. He started trembling, and his breath came in ragged gasps with the effort of holding himself back.
Let yourself go, that voice told him again, persuasively, but with an undertone of command that Luke could no longer resist, especially with the reminder of Vader's breathing in the background. Let go, Luke, it said, and he did.
As if sensing his victory, Vader's presence in his mind heightened, the connection between them strong enough to overwhelm everything else. He felt--
He felt.
The hand on his hip moved, running lightly down his leg until it reached his boot, then swiftly tugged it off and dropped it. It soon did the same with the other boot, and then it ran, just as lightly, up his other leg. It drifted to right above where the other hand was gently stroking him, then unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper. Then both hands disappeared for a moment, and Luke groaned at the loss, when they just as suddenly reappeared, tugging on the legs. He lifted his hips and let them pull the pants off him, dropping them somewhere with the boots, and then gasped and bit back a moan when one of the hands traced figure eights on his inner thigh.
"If you're going to do something...do something!" Luke panted, and was surprised at the hoarseness in his own voice. But he didn't care about that, not when his body seemed like it was on fire.
Luke was blasted momentarily by amusement when Vader said, "I am doing something. Many things, in fact." One of the real hands on his shoulder slid up his neck, traced his jaw, ran lightly across his lips, leaving behind a strangely pleasant tingle.
"Not...enough," Luke huffed, and heard Vader's rasping chuckle with both his mind and his ears.
"You don't want me to stop, then?" he inquired. "You want me to continue?"
"Can't stop you, can I?" Luke replied vaguely, most of his concentration focused on the pair of phantom hands tracing figures on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. "Might as well go along for the ride."
"Yes," Vader agreed. "You might as well. I knew you would be reasonable, in the end."
"Not end yet," Luke pointed out. He didn't want to take the effort to speak in complete sentences--it was so hard to think. Everything was narrowed, suddenly, to this small room, this cramped bed, this person standing over him, the two pairs of hands covering him.
He knew he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be allowing this, but it felt--good. So very good. Enough that he cried out at the loss when the phantom hands were lifted, even though he hadn't meant to.
Vader, one black-gloved hand still on his shoulder, pulled him to an upright position again; but Luke couldn't trust his legs right then, and leaned against Vader, feeling strangely...nice. He never would have thought that Vader could be so reassuringly solid.
But he was still hard, uncomfortably so, and he'd never be able to release his sexual frustration into the Force in this state--it was so much easier to do before he got so aroused--which left one option, now that the unseen hands were gone. Uncaring that he was not alone because embarrassment seemed far and away right now, he straightened slightly, put his hands on his hips to push the last of his troublesome garments out of the way; but Vader's hands closed around his wrists, more gently than before, and stopped him.
"What happened to going along for the ride?" Vader asked.
"You didn't seem to be doing anything further," Luke retorted, frowning up at him. "I figured I might as well take things in hand, if you weren't going to finish."
"What makes you think I wasn't?"
"You stopped--"
"I paused," Vader corrected. "And I finish what I begin, Luke Skywalker. You do not need to worry on that point."
Luke looked at the floor, at his clothes haphazardly piled there, and couldn't keep the red tinge from his cheeks as he replied, "Wasn't worried. Wouldn't care if you didn't finish--"
Vader squeezed his wrists in warning. "No more lying to yourself," he commanded. "Or to me, for that matter. And stop thinking."
But now that he'd started again, he didn't want to stop, didn't want to let himself go, no matter how good it felt--
Then his thoughts flew right out of his head again as Vader reached down with one hand and violently ripped away Luke's undershorts, tearing the cloth off with one strong yank, and then throwing it somewhere behind him. Luke didn't look to see where it landed, because a real, leather-covered hand closed around his cock and squeezed. Luke let out an involuntary moan as his knees buckled, and he would have fallen had Vader not caught him around the waist with his other arm.
Something roared in Luke's head, and he was caught up in a storm of sensation, a whirlwind of desire, strengthened by the bond and the Force, catching him up and spinning him until he was dizzy. And with Vader's hand on his erection, deftly moving up and down, the leather soft and supple enough against his tender skin to keep it from being painful, he felt something weakening inside him; though whether it was his resolve or something else, he didn't know.
And emotions were still flooding their connection, keeping him from thinking about anything except the here and now: himself, leaning against Vader for support; Vader's hand, curled possessively around his hip; Vader's other hand, on his length, building up a deliciously terrible pressure--and the passion pounding through him.
He was drowning, and he couldn't find the surface. There was nothing here anymore but himself and Vader, the connection between them, and the emotions around and inside of him. He heard moaning, and was almost surprised that it was him.
Everything was building up to a crescendo, and he could feel himself nearing the breaking point, knowing that soon he could no longer hold anything back. Vader seemed to sense this as well, for he slowed down, started tortuous, leisurely strokes--and then stopped, and lifted his hand away.
Luke whimpered, unable to manage anything more articulate and unable to care about the demeaning noise that came from his own throat, when he felt himself being led to the wall, his hands braced against it, and his feet spread apart. Then for one horrifying moment, no part of Vader was touching Luke, and he couldn't help but cry out at the loss of intensity in the bond.
The moment stretched, and then was over, as one of Vader's hands came back around and settled on Luke's hardness, and the other--
--slammed into him, two fingers reaching up inside him, and Luke let loose a strangled groan because it hurt, it was completely without lubricant and it hurt.
But then the hand on his erection started pumping, and the fingers inside him began moving around, and pleasure and pain became intermingled until he could no longer tell where each originated, and it was all painful pleasure and pleasurable pain anyway.
The duality of the sensations was his undoing, as he reached the peak and everything seemed to crystallize--and then the crystal shattered, and he with it. "Father!" he almost cried as heat surrounded him, Tatooine's twin suns going nova at the same time with him caught in the middle, his orgasm blasting out of him with a fury. Semen spurted out of him onto Vader's glove and the wall and the floor, and Luke's knees buckled again as Vader's fingers slipped out of him, and Luke's hands, braced against the wall, could no longer hold him up.
But Vader caught him, both arms tight around Luke's chest. "You are mine," Vader said, satisfaction in every part of him, and flowing through him into Luke, who no longer had the energy to hold up the last of his barriers.
But Luke had energy enough, barely, to say, "This doesn't...change anything."
Then Vader lifted him with ease, and bore him back to the bed, bringing the thin covers up to Luke's shoulders. The last thing Luke heard was Vader's voice saying, "Do not lie to yourself. It changes everything," and then darkness claimed him.
Anyway, here be the porniest thing I've written in over a year. :p
Title: For Thine is the Kingdom
Author: Rynne
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: NC17
Summary: Vader will do anything to persuade Luke to the Dark Side...post-ESB Luke/Vader slash/incest
Warning: This is rated NC17 for father/son incestual slash, sexual acts, dubious consent, and (possible) disturbing themes. If you do not think you can handle such things maturely, please do not read.
Notes: Thank you to jedibix783 for betaing. Written for and dedicated to vikkir, who asked me for L/V slash. Hope you like it. :)
This chapter has everything that I warned for. Please exercise your judgment when choosing whether to read or not.
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four
3
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"
Why didn't I finish my training, again? Luke sighed and brushed hair away from his face, shifting on the bed.
He was meditating. Or trying to, at least. Vader had left a few hours before, despite whatever he'd said about converting Luke being his main duty right then, and Luke figured he might as well use the time to get himself under better control. He hadn't exactly done well at achieving peace during their last conversation.
But he couldn't concentrate. The Force swirled around him, and he could touch it, but when he tried to grab hold it would dance away from him like a skittish tauntaun. His frustration would mount, which would then lead to him having less control than before, and the cycle would start again.
He wanted to touch the Force. He wanted that refreshing coolness, after remembering the discomfort and heat of several hours ago. He wanted to let the Force soothe away his worries about the future, but those selfsame worries kept him from touching the Force in the first place. How Master Yoda would scold him for letting the future take over his thoughts...
The future...and Vader. Luke shivered, despite the long sleeves of his shirt and the mild temperature of the room.
Some time, and most likely soon, Vader was going to return, and then he would try to turn Luke again, with those "other methods" he mentioned, and Luke couldn't help but be nervous at the thought. Perhaps that was why Vader had left him alone--he wanted him to stew, to think about it, to maybe come to the conclusion that there was no point in fighting because he couldn't win.
Always in motion is the future. Maybe he couldn't win--but then again, maybe he could. He wouldn't know until he was tested.
As if the thought had been a summoning, the door opened and Vader strode in. His black mask was as impenetrable as ever, but Luke thought he could feel an undercurrent of--anticipation, through their bond.
It did not help Luke's nerves.
"Come with me," Vader said, and then turned around and left the room again. But when Luke didn't follow him, he turned back, and said, with lurking impatience, "Come."
"No," Luke said, with as much calm as he could muster. "I don't know what you're going to do, but I want no part of it. I won't go with you."
Vader stood for a moment, seeming almost surprised, as if he'd never been so deliberately defied before. Then again, apart from his encounters with Luke, that was probably likely.
Finally, he said, "No matter. It will be cramped, but it can be done here. In fact," he continued, looking around, "it is probably for the best, anyway."
"What can be done here? What's for the best?" Luke asked suspiciously. "What do you intend to do?" His heart began to beat faster, adrenalin rushing through his body in a manifest of nerves, despite his trying to stay calm.
"From emotion and passion come strength," Vader said. "In order to be strong, you must feel."
"I feel emotion all the time," Luke retorted. His heart was still beating rapidly. "Hasn't done me much good."
"That is because you do not let it," Vader said. "That is weakness, which the Jedi never understood. Denying feelings does not make them go away. You must embrace the emotions, use them, and do not let them use you. Emotion can give you a power that peace cannot."
"I don't want power," Luke said, sure on that point, at least. "Not like that."
"Not even for your Alliance?" Vader asked. "Not even to save your princess and your friend? Not even to defeat me?"
"Not at the cost of giving up my soul," Luke said flatly. "The Alliance can take care of itself, and so can Han and Leia. They've been doing it for longer than I've known them."
Vader snorted. "The Alliance could not even hold its own before you arrived and destroyed the Death Star," he replied, openly contemptuous. "Princess Leia was scheduled for execution when you found her, and Solo is encased in carbonite and needing rescue. They cannot always take care of themselves, and when they cannot, they need you, because of the power you hold."
"I've helped the Alliance and Leia without the Dark Side," Luke returned, "and I intend to do the same with Han when we find him. I don't need what you're offering."
"Foolish boy," Vader hissed. "You think you can prepare for every eventuality? That the weak Light will aid you in every circumstance? When the Light has let you down and you are needing of more strength, more power, then you will want the Dark Side."
"I don't think it will let me down," Luke said. "It hasn't yet."
"Oh?" Vader said caustically. "Then you were able to defeat me on Bespin, using your Light? You are not sitting there listening to me now, because the Light Side helped you escape from my clutches?"
Luke flushed. "I--" he began, but Vader interrupted him.
"Do not bother to continue your protest," he said. "I did not come here to argue with you again."
"Then why are you doing it?" Luke muttered, still audible enough to be heard, but Vader ignored it, and stepped closer.
"Emotion," he said. "Passion. Sensation. Let yourself feel them, Luke, and you will understand."
Luke opened his mouth to protest, though what exactly he would say he didn't know, but then something shoved him hard enough in the back that he would have fallen forward had he not put his feet on the floor and stood up. He swiftly turned around, searching for the new threat, but there was nothing behind him. Then something seized his shoulder and spun him so that he was facing Vader again--Vader, who was standing there with his arms crossed, looking at him.
And he and Vader were the only ones in the room.
Luke looked at Vader for a moment, not quite sure what to think. But not even Vader could be so quick as to shove and grab Luke and then step back and stand as nonchalantly as he was, not without Luke seeing him move.
"I am rather infamous for asphyxiating people with the Force," Vader commented, almost tangentially, but Luke could sense that he had a point. Then he made it. "Being able to touch them without touching them," he continued. "It is a simple thing, to create a hand made of nothing but Force energy, but one that could do whatever a real hand can."
"So--what?" Luke asked, understanding now what had happened, but not why. "You're going to choke me without touching me? Or beat me up, or whatever?"
Vader gave the impression of quirking an eyebrow, though the mask was as impenetrable as ever. "I could," he said. "There is a reason why pain is part of a standard interrogation; enough of it causes those subjected to it to break, to say or do anything to make it stop. There is another method of interrogation, though more often used in conjunction with and as a counterpoint to pain, and that is pleasure. Pleasure, no less than pain, can cause those subjected to it to break, because they will say or do anything to make it continue."
Luke stared. That was...well, unexpected would be an understatement. "Pleasure?" he repeated, almost choking on the word. "What are you going to do?" Then he added, before Vader could reply, "You know, it would probably give me the most pleasure if you let me go."
Vader snorted. "Unlikely," he said. Then, "Take your shirt off."
Luke stared, again. "What?" he asked. "Why?"
"Because it will make things easier for both of us," Vader answered.
"Good reason not to do it, then," Luke retorted. "What will make things easier for me is if you let me go. I don't particularly want to make things easier for you. I'm sure you understand."
"Nevertheless," Vader said, "you will take it off, or I will take it off for you. Your choice."
"Another one of your choices," Luke muttered. "Wonderful." But he did take the shirt off, because he was sure that Vader wasn't bluffing when he said that he would do it if Luke didn't. He laid the shirt behind him on the bed, and fought the urge to fidget. If he'd felt exposed to Vader's gaze before, when he was fully dressed, he felt doubly so now. And he wondered, more than ever, just what it was that Vader intended to do.
When he looked at Vader again, whose head was tilted, that masked stare gazing at him, considering, he frowned. "What?" he asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "D'you want me to take the pants off, too?"
"That will not be necessary," Vader replied. "Not yet."
"Not yet?" Luke choked. "What--"
But he fell silent when a phantom hand covered his mouth, and was still silent as it moved away, tracing his jaw, drifting across his cheek and down his neck. He shivered, goosebumps popping up on his skin despite the warm temperature of the room. He closed his eyes, for a moment, as the hand rested on his shoulder; but when it slid down his chest, taking a nipple between unseen fingers and pinching, his eyes flew open again, and he couldn't stay silent any longer.
"What are you doing?" he asked, crossing his arms again, trying to push the hand away. He wanted to back up, get farther away from Vader, but he was at the edge of the bunk as it was, and he couldn't get back any further. And the hand just rested itself on his shoulder again.
"What did it feel like I was doing?" Vader inquired, crossing his own arms. "Surely you understand."
Luke didn't mean to, but he flushed. Had he ever felt this uncomfortable before? He didn't think so. "Not very fatherly of you," he snapped, and his eyes narrowed when he felt Vader's amusement.
"You didn't even know I was your father until two weeks ago," he pointed out. "Not that either of us have had any chance to be a father or a son." And his mood seemed to darken at that.
"This doesn't seem the best way to start," Luke said, feeling behind him for his shirt.
But Vader noticed what he was doing, and an unseen hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as his own hand closed around the material. A finger reached up and caressed the skin above his pulse, and out of surprise his hand opened, and the shirt dropped away.
"I am not doing this as your father," Vader said, and the hand, still holding Luke's wrist, began to pull him away from the bed, closer to Vader. "I am doing this as your teacher. Would you not like to learn how to do this as well?"
Can you separate the two that easily? I don't think you can. I don't think I can. But another hand pressed itself against his chest, sweeping itself along his skin, causing the skin to tingle madly where the hand had been. Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the hand on his chest and the other running up his arm, and said, with as much poise as he could manage, "No, thanks. And I'd really rather you stop now."
"You don't like it?" Vader asked, one phantom hand now on his back, tracing his spine, lingering around each vertebrae.
"That's not the point," Luke protested, taking in a ragged breath. One hand was still exploring his back, and the other was drawing circles on his chest with one finger. How am I supposed to be able to think when he's doing that? Then he mentally snorted. I'm not, of course. And it was very hard to think.
"It's exactly the point," Vader countered. "It is a simple question. Do you like it?"
"No," Luke answered quickly, and that was true, partly. He did like the sensation of those phantom fingers ghosting across his skin, caressing and exploring, but he didn't like who was doing it, and why.
But as much as it was true, it was also a lie, and Vader caught it, and sighed. "Why do you cling to your inhibitions?" he asked. "Propriety will get you nowhere here, and discarding it brings greater rewards."
Luke narrowed his eyes. "You would think that," he said. "But I care more about morality than expediency."
"How very cumbersome," Vader said. "But that can be fixed."
And before Luke could begin to answer, the unseen hand on his chest slid down to his groin--and grabbed. Luke yelped and tried to jump backwards, but his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell on it, ending up sprawled on his back, with Vader towering over him.
"Don't!" Luke shouted, not knowing what he was going to do--what he wanted to do--should Vader continue. "Don't!"
But Vader moved closer, an inexorable force. He reached down and caught Luke's bare shoulders in his real hands--and Luke was lost.
Connection. They were tied so closely...it was so intense. He felt everything that Vader wanted him to feel, a bundle of emotions that hit him all at once and that he had no idea what to do with. He felt cold, then hot, and then a wave of desire rushed over him and overwhelmed everything else. He felt himself harden, and had to close his eyes at the embarrassment of his body's betrayal.
Don't think, Vader whispered into his mind, a cool voice and power surrounding him, buoying him up. It sounded little like the Vader he knew, but still it was his voice; it could be no other's, with the strength of the bond behind it. Don't think. Feel.
I'm feeling! he cried, throwing his head back, as the phantom hand started stroking his hardening length through his pants, the cloth rubbing against sensitive skin almost driving him mad. The other had slid around to his hip and settled there, a strange pressure without temperature. I want to stop. It's too much--too much!
That is because you are thinking, as well as feeling, Vader told him. The voice itself was like a caress, and Luke couldn't stop himself from leaning into it, that place deep inside him where the bond between them was rooted. Let go, Luke. Let yourself go.
He didn't want to. He wanted to hold on, as tightly as he could, but his skin felt more tender than it ever had before, and every stroke along his length sent a jolt through him that was impossible to ignore. He started trembling, and his breath came in ragged gasps with the effort of holding himself back.
Let yourself go, that voice told him again, persuasively, but with an undertone of command that Luke could no longer resist, especially with the reminder of Vader's breathing in the background. Let go, Luke, it said, and he did.
As if sensing his victory, Vader's presence in his mind heightened, the connection between them strong enough to overwhelm everything else. He felt--
He felt.
The hand on his hip moved, running lightly down his leg until it reached his boot, then swiftly tugged it off and dropped it. It soon did the same with the other boot, and then it ran, just as lightly, up his other leg. It drifted to right above where the other hand was gently stroking him, then unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper. Then both hands disappeared for a moment, and Luke groaned at the loss, when they just as suddenly reappeared, tugging on the legs. He lifted his hips and let them pull the pants off him, dropping them somewhere with the boots, and then gasped and bit back a moan when one of the hands traced figure eights on his inner thigh.
"If you're going to do something...do something!" Luke panted, and was surprised at the hoarseness in his own voice. But he didn't care about that, not when his body seemed like it was on fire.
Luke was blasted momentarily by amusement when Vader said, "I am doing something. Many things, in fact." One of the real hands on his shoulder slid up his neck, traced his jaw, ran lightly across his lips, leaving behind a strangely pleasant tingle.
"Not...enough," Luke huffed, and heard Vader's rasping chuckle with both his mind and his ears.
"You don't want me to stop, then?" he inquired. "You want me to continue?"
"Can't stop you, can I?" Luke replied vaguely, most of his concentration focused on the pair of phantom hands tracing figures on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. "Might as well go along for the ride."
"Yes," Vader agreed. "You might as well. I knew you would be reasonable, in the end."
"Not end yet," Luke pointed out. He didn't want to take the effort to speak in complete sentences--it was so hard to think. Everything was narrowed, suddenly, to this small room, this cramped bed, this person standing over him, the two pairs of hands covering him.
He knew he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be allowing this, but it felt--good. So very good. Enough that he cried out at the loss when the phantom hands were lifted, even though he hadn't meant to.
Vader, one black-gloved hand still on his shoulder, pulled him to an upright position again; but Luke couldn't trust his legs right then, and leaned against Vader, feeling strangely...nice. He never would have thought that Vader could be so reassuringly solid.
But he was still hard, uncomfortably so, and he'd never be able to release his sexual frustration into the Force in this state--it was so much easier to do before he got so aroused--which left one option, now that the unseen hands were gone. Uncaring that he was not alone because embarrassment seemed far and away right now, he straightened slightly, put his hands on his hips to push the last of his troublesome garments out of the way; but Vader's hands closed around his wrists, more gently than before, and stopped him.
"What happened to going along for the ride?" Vader asked.
"You didn't seem to be doing anything further," Luke retorted, frowning up at him. "I figured I might as well take things in hand, if you weren't going to finish."
"What makes you think I wasn't?"
"You stopped--"
"I paused," Vader corrected. "And I finish what I begin, Luke Skywalker. You do not need to worry on that point."
Luke looked at the floor, at his clothes haphazardly piled there, and couldn't keep the red tinge from his cheeks as he replied, "Wasn't worried. Wouldn't care if you didn't finish--"
Vader squeezed his wrists in warning. "No more lying to yourself," he commanded. "Or to me, for that matter. And stop thinking."
But now that he'd started again, he didn't want to stop, didn't want to let himself go, no matter how good it felt--
Then his thoughts flew right out of his head again as Vader reached down with one hand and violently ripped away Luke's undershorts, tearing the cloth off with one strong yank, and then throwing it somewhere behind him. Luke didn't look to see where it landed, because a real, leather-covered hand closed around his cock and squeezed. Luke let out an involuntary moan as his knees buckled, and he would have fallen had Vader not caught him around the waist with his other arm.
Something roared in Luke's head, and he was caught up in a storm of sensation, a whirlwind of desire, strengthened by the bond and the Force, catching him up and spinning him until he was dizzy. And with Vader's hand on his erection, deftly moving up and down, the leather soft and supple enough against his tender skin to keep it from being painful, he felt something weakening inside him; though whether it was his resolve or something else, he didn't know.
And emotions were still flooding their connection, keeping him from thinking about anything except the here and now: himself, leaning against Vader for support; Vader's hand, curled possessively around his hip; Vader's other hand, on his length, building up a deliciously terrible pressure--and the passion pounding through him.
He was drowning, and he couldn't find the surface. There was nothing here anymore but himself and Vader, the connection between them, and the emotions around and inside of him. He heard moaning, and was almost surprised that it was him.
Everything was building up to a crescendo, and he could feel himself nearing the breaking point, knowing that soon he could no longer hold anything back. Vader seemed to sense this as well, for he slowed down, started tortuous, leisurely strokes--and then stopped, and lifted his hand away.
Luke whimpered, unable to manage anything more articulate and unable to care about the demeaning noise that came from his own throat, when he felt himself being led to the wall, his hands braced against it, and his feet spread apart. Then for one horrifying moment, no part of Vader was touching Luke, and he couldn't help but cry out at the loss of intensity in the bond.
The moment stretched, and then was over, as one of Vader's hands came back around and settled on Luke's hardness, and the other--
--slammed into him, two fingers reaching up inside him, and Luke let loose a strangled groan because it hurt, it was completely without lubricant and it hurt.
But then the hand on his erection started pumping, and the fingers inside him began moving around, and pleasure and pain became intermingled until he could no longer tell where each originated, and it was all painful pleasure and pleasurable pain anyway.
The duality of the sensations was his undoing, as he reached the peak and everything seemed to crystallize--and then the crystal shattered, and he with it. "Father!" he almost cried as heat surrounded him, Tatooine's twin suns going nova at the same time with him caught in the middle, his orgasm blasting out of him with a fury. Semen spurted out of him onto Vader's glove and the wall and the floor, and Luke's knees buckled again as Vader's fingers slipped out of him, and Luke's hands, braced against the wall, could no longer hold him up.
But Vader caught him, both arms tight around Luke's chest. "You are mine," Vader said, satisfaction in every part of him, and flowing through him into Luke, who no longer had the energy to hold up the last of his barriers.
But Luke had energy enough, barely, to say, "This doesn't...change anything."
Then Vader lifted him with ease, and bore him back to the bed, bringing the thin covers up to Luke's shoulders. The last thing Luke heard was Vader's voice saying, "Do not lie to yourself. It changes everything," and then darkness claimed him.