Chapter Text
It has been two weeks since you confronted the fallen Jedi Master, Obi Wan Kenobi. Driven by grief, he followed his former padawan to the dark side. Darth Vader and Darth Valor. Together they assassinated Chancellor Palpatine and instituted a new Sith rule over the Republic.
The former padawan was once said to be the Chosen One to bring balance to the force, and it was on this claim he ruled as king over the galaxy. He took a wife, Senator Amidala, Palpatine’s one-time rival in the senate, and she bore twins.
The fallen master ruled at his side as advisor and emissary. As he spoke, so spoke the Republic.
You encountered him in the Temple on Coruscant. He had come to instruct the council of their new role in the war against the Separatists. His true mission, however, had been the assassination of Jedi Master Luminara Unduli. You crossed his path as he tried to make his escape and locked blades. He made quick work of you by electrocuting your wrists and forcing you to drop your lightsaber. He threw your defenseless body against a wall and spoke over your crumpled form. “Remember who you are dealing with. You answer to me, now, Jedi.” And with that, he stalked off.
Since that moment, echoes of his words rang through your consciousness. In quiet moments, you could hear him as though he was with you in the room. “You answer to me.” Meditation brought visions of his saber slicing through his enemies. Sometimes, as you fell asleep, the last image in your mind was that of his red-rimmed eyes.
You recognized this as trauma. Flashbacks of the moment you could have lost your life. As a Jedi, you knew these moments were part of your duty, and so you watched them pass impartially. Memories are nothing to fear. You struggled more to accept the guilt you felt. You should have sensed something was wrong and saved her. You should have told the Council what had happened. But somehow, to admit he had allowed you to live felt like too intimate a secret to share so publicly. So, you dwelled on it.
But such concerns interfered with your sleep, and so you had to find a distraction tonight.
In your simple Knight’s quarters, settled comfortably into your bed. You propped yourself against the headboard and gazed out your window at the Coruscant skyline. Absent-mindedly, your hands drifted over your body. One hand worked it’s way under your leggings and the other into your hair, finding bliss in your own touch.
And then you hear his voice.
“Do the council know of your dirty secret? My, what would they think? How could you ever tell them how much you think about being mine?”
You exhale, flushed.
“Do your own thoughts betray you? You want nothing more than to relive that night: weak and at my mercy. Isn’t that right?”
The image of Darth Valor floods your mind. It is as though he is truly in the room with you.
Exhausted, you give into the fantasy.
You picture the Dark Lord kissing your mouth fiercely. His gloved hand cups your jaw too tightly as the other pulls the small of your back to his stomach. You feel his arousal below his belt. You grind into him, growing wetter and wetter for him.
He undresses you. He greedily sucks at your skin: neck, breasts, stomach, and thighs. Your own hands join in, groping at your breast and circling your clit.
“It is so easy to be mine,” his voice chimes.
You arch your back at the thought.
“That’s it, fuck yourself for me. Show how desperate you are to be possessed.”
You plunge your fingers into yourself. You feel your tipping point near.
His voice carries you over and through, “Remember who you serve.”
In post-coital bliss you hear these words echo deep within your consciousness and they comfort you to sleep.