【Ｌｏｃａｔｉｏｎ：

ＤＳ－１　Ｏｒｂｉｔａｌ　
Ｂａｔｔｌｅ　

Ｓｔａｔｉｏｎ

Ｗｅｓｔ　Ｓａｎｃｔｕｍ

Ｌｏｒｄ　Ｖａｄｅｒ＇ｓ　
Ｑｕａｒｔｅｒｓ

ｍａｉｎ ｏｆｆｉｃｅ】

V A D E R

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  HE WAS NOT IMMORTAL.
CONSECUTIVE HOURS SPENT with Motti on top of the sleepless nights were inadvertently, taking hold. The smooth liquor had dulled his sense enough to hardly give a womp rat's arse to his appearance. He was in his own quarters. They were in his territory and wouldn't dare report this to the Emperor. Thus, instead of presenting the formidable attire of the ruthless Sith, a thicker cloak had been draped over his naked torso.

  A hood was thrown up to obscure the man underneath. Easing back in his office chair, he shoved aside his utility belt exhibiting a broken clip. His hands settled on the cusp of his knees underneath the desk as the mood instantaneously shifted.

The heavy-set door sailed open, the hum of machinery reverberating, momentarily overshadowed by footsteps.

A physical, slender form glided into the room by the hand of shadows themselves, in deference.

  A sleek uniform accentuated their frame, the suit manipulated to their adept specialties. Imperial crests refracted off obsidian shoulder plates. A long cape whispered behind each footfall with a sleek, angular helmet forged for durability formed around a ruby T-shaped visor. A deep fissure was serrated to an unconcealed neck.

  Once forced under his very tutelage at the dawning of the Empire, their arrogance nearly rivaled his own. Yet the cold predominance in which they moved seemed to ease, reflecting their partnership.

  "Lord Vader," The vocoder of their voice was garbled at best, exposing the sustained damage. "Forgive me, I will need to remove this blasted thing."

  The last of the words reflected a smooth feminine voice as gloved hands reached up to discard the cracked helmet. Sheared ebony hair was tossed back, unveiling the olive-toned complexion of a sharply ovate face. Those wide feline-like eyes were luminous and slinked beneath his cowl.

  Second Sister of the Order of the Inquisitorius: Trilla Surduri.

  She'd been one of the Inquisitors successively converted under his severe hand. A former Padawan of the Jedi Order. He could practically taste the stench of sulphur emanating off of her, singing his senses...

   Jagged crystalline landscapes.

   The unforgiving frozen tundra of snow cleaved to the hem of her tunic and crunched beneath her boots. Hatred boiled in her veins as her eyes surveilled the xenophobe of a master, Ki-Adi-Mundi who had kept them on this forsaken planet too long.

  It was rumored the planet was crawling with Separatists.

  Ice clung to her lashes. Yet the Cerean's elongated head housing a binary brain renown for its intelligence, remained visible through the torrent. She fixated upon his eyes, the pale yellow visibly widening when a propulsion of ships rapidly descended from the skies of Mygeeto.

  Ice frosted the white bushel of brows to the ends of his beard upon swerving towards her. "Trilla take cover!" He wrenched out his lightsaber, the plasmic blue screaming to life while blaster fire shot overhead...

  The scenes from her past flickered through Vader's mind like a holoprojector.

  Something happened.

Whatever it was had triggered these memories of hers.

  Long after she'd embraced the dark side, he'd kept her preoccupied by hunting down force-sensitives—a deadly fortè—which kept blades from crossing with the other Inquisitors with whom she despised. Though an expert duelist with himself in combat, she constantly vied for the Grand Inquistor's position whom she viewed as prey, ever determined to close ranks with the Emperor.

  "Ah, much better anyway." The corner of her lip curled. She eased back into her chair, tapping a gloved finger on the desk far too playful for his taste.

  Vader did not miss the minx's thoughts of the dips and swallows of his bared skin visible. A thin glaze settled over those eyes with a slow heat that unfurled in her gaze, evoking an ache that made her hips subtly shift in his peripheral.

"Second Sister," he acknowledged with a deep baritone alcohol could not dilute, "I sense a disturbance that has sent you out here?"

  Thinly veiled beneath her lustful thoughts, was a hesitation swiftly extinguished by a flicker of anger. "Ventress," she spat. Her lips twisted into a snarl. "As you can see, she left quite the souvenir in the aftermath." She nodded pointedly to her cracked helmet. "I hunted her down along the corporate sector. Little witch is not too keen on the Empire."

  Ah, there was what had triggered her.

  He swirled the contents left in his glass, Count Dooku also known as his Sith pseudo Darth Tyranus' sneering face surfacing to mind. Ultimately, he had met his fate, beheaded at the end of Vader's blood-red blade not long ago.

Vaders lips curled at the thought.

  He hadn't seen Dooku's bald headed assassin since the Serrenian's demise.

His eyes fell across his shelves illuminated in crimson, spotting the silver clasps that once fastened the elder Sith's cloak. It had been a recent addition to Vader's collection of 'trophies.'
"Ventress wished to fade into obscurity after I ended her Master. She wasn't too shattered given it ended her captivity. Dooku had ended her Jedi lover. So, did you provoke her Surduri?"

  Vader did not miss the way she stiffened by the old surname. It was an insult to do so and exposed his frustrations by her irrational conduct. She wouldn't dare defy him otherwise.

  "I felt I was doing a service, Lord Vader." She cleared her throat, the confidence in her abating. "She's a force-sensitive and considered treasonous by the Galactic Empire's standards. I didn't realize it could set off a chain of events."

  "You better hope it doesn't. Though Mother Talzin has since been eliminated, I don't need a revolt from the last of the Dathomir witches. A balance must be maintained for the Empire to thrive. Every step strategic or have you so easily forgotten your teachings?" His voice raised pointedly. "Your foolishness is making you sloppy, Surduri. Perhaps a few days in a reeducation facility will refine your intellect."

  There was a silver of fear that surfaced in her vibrant blue-green eyes. Only he could evoke such a reaction from a sadist who thrived on toying with her targeted prey. "Forgive me, Lord Vader. I did not mean to fail you or the Emperor. I saw her as an opposition and sought to put an end."

  One flesh finger methodically tapped the rim of his glass. She needs to stay in line no exceptions.  "You'd do well to remember your place, Inquisitor. Your antics will cost you, if unchecked. You are to leave future findings to the Grand of the Order until further notice. Are we clear?"

  "Yes Lord Vader," she bowed with a hard swallow, eyes slowly dragging back up.

  It was plain she was trying to avoid his undressed state. He forcefully pulled one end of the cloak to sheathe himself from her ogling. Thank the Force he'd never taken the woman to bed. He still abhorred the drunken snog they'd shared after a grueling session with the Emperor, at last year's Empire Day gala.

  He'd needed the reprieve but it had not excused the impulsive act. Especially when she was clearly reminiscing, still. Palpatine—as he was known to his outer peers—had found the ordeal amusing, but Vader had still suffered the repercussions at the Emperors hands, for resorting to such behavior with an adept.

"Dismissed Inquisitor." He waved the door open before tossing back the last of the malted liquor, its savory spice easing his nerves.

   The Inquisitor had just gathered her helmet and was dutifully heading to the door, acting as if she were about to fully exit his quarters—when she suddenly paused.

  It was so abrupt the act struck him odd, enough to raise the question aloud. "I believe I gave you an order, Inquisitor?"

She was getting far too comfortable for his taste which was unacceptable.

  "I know." Those round, luminous eyes slowly peeked from beneath a thick fringe of lashes. In an instant, she chucked her helmet to the side and strode back to his desk with renewed fervor.

A hunger simmered beneath her skin with a purpose in every step, right before she kneeled at his feet. "Punish me, Lord Vader," she breathed, the sheen curtain of hair falling back from her face. Like a slinking feline her hands daringly grazed over the curve of his knees, thumbs further stroking over the silk pants covering his thighs.

  While he'd severely reprimand her for such an act, he found the inebriation of bourbon gradually stirring needs that had long lay dormant. He felt his lips part, recalling just how skillful those hands were once she shucked off her gloves. Tendrils of desire snaked through her movements to coax his own, coupled with a masochistic pleasure derived from pain with a graze of her nails.

Dammit.

  Those red lips of hers parted once more, wetted by a thirst only he could sate. "Please my Lord..."

It was those last breathy words that snapped his thread of control. Her body lstruck the opposite wall and bounced from the sheer use of his force-push.

  Then he was there.

  His hands wrapped around her throat like a vice, his hooded shroud leaning into her. Her skin warm beneath his touch, yearned to be plied under his hands as his thumb pushed into the hollow of her throat. It was maddening yet aroused his own desires. "Beg for your life, Inquisitor."

  "My Lord, please," she gasped, her pleas softening to a moan while he jerked her head back, watching her eyes flutter shut under his unrelenting grip. The pressure only seemed to stoke her need, her tongue gliding over her bared teeth. "Mmm yes... more, please."

  Her body writhed beneath his hold, unraveling his restraint. Needs often concealed and shoved into the farthest quadrant, his duty to the Empire prioritized before the needs of a man. With his fingers curled against the flesh of her throat, he drank in the small pockets of breath that rolled off her lips. The attraction the power he wielded, the need to dominate by his authority. He reveled in the loss of control, drew a sick satisfaction watching one come apart at the seams with such compliancy. He could indulge himself and take her right there on his desk if he desired.

  But then her attachment to him would deepen and that...

  It was enough to tamper his need. Exhaling a sharp breath he released her with a growl, leaving her limp body collapsing to the floor with a startled cry.

"Get. Out."

The room was grown eerily cold, enough to send her scrambling for her helmet upon realizing just what limitations had been pushed with Darth Vader.

  She was out the door less than a beat later.

  "Fuck," Vader growled to himself, tugging at the roots of his scalp. He needed a good reprieve soon before he made a colossal mistake.

  An Inquisitor?!

  There was not a chance he'd go further, their past liaisons be damned. Not only was she completely possessive, which was another headache that involved the Third Brother Inquisitor, but she intensively fixated on her obsessions. He'd rather burn in all nine Corellian hells.

  "Fuck!"

  He chucked his glass across the room, the shards shattering upon impact. With a sharp inhale through his nose, he'd just pulled on the call of the dark when the door yawned open.

A shadow fell across the threshold.

  Fucking Siths hell.

  It was Lieutenant Ayen.

  Except, she was not wearing the standard jumpsuit up to code.

The air was sucked from his lungs before he could comprehend what his eyes fixated upon. It happened in an instant, drawing out a renewed feral heat that seared his senses, amplified by the piquancy of bourbon. It unspooled
the formidable logic of his thoughts, raptly pulling his attentions—

  To a single tear of sweat that dropped into the dip of cleavage, accentuated by the tight top underneath her jumpsuit. The burnished flesh borne underneath the scorch of unforgiving suns he could almost taste the heat of, on the bed of his tongue.

  The anger came swift as a tempest storm and surged white-hot through his veins. 

  "Is there a problem with your fucking zipper, Lieutenant?!"

More to come, hold on to your shorts Ayen's pov IS next and then ACTION.

Yes Vader swears. I believe if Star Wars had been more adult Han Solo would've definitely used the term.😆

How was that little kink? It's actually my first time writing such so hope it didn't disappoint.