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Paradise by Boots |
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At the end of Playground: I take you
to my sacrificial ground, the garden I had made; obediently you sat a
few feet away. I ignite the Lightsaber and swirl it around, and do all
the gorgeous moves and look into your eyes the while. The sky inky before
dawn. How earnest you look, how solid and still you sat, even as the morning
dew ate into your aching joints. I would die for you! I will not let Palpatine
take me, I must warn you of his nature, I must tell you everything, I
must change history. And to change history, you take out a
Rhythm & Blues Alibi You can write
your tunes with rhythm and blues as your alibi
The saber
would not go through. When I pressed its bite harder into my chest the
blade extinguished itself. I thumb the switch maniacally, this cannot
fail and I will not let myself live. I fumbled with the buttons. It was
set to stun. Of course! You always did take precautions with weaponry,
Master. Ah well, I toss the treacherous lightsaber away and summersault
into the The city
rushed upon me. All the levels the suns could not reach and where power
generators failed. Here I hoped my body would lie in peace, brittle and
*yours*. Until the bones turned to dust with age, still unfound and untouchable,
a tender secret, beneath so many layers of concrete. I lost sight of you,
Master, but I heard you in my mind through the training bond. I twisted,
lining my head and neck for impact with the ground. But you were faster
as you called upon malevolent forces to push you down. Then, you had me
by a single boot and kept gaining. Up to my knees, my hips, my waist until
finally your arms closed about my chest and our lips locked as you piston
your tongue into my mouth at a frantic pace. Wind threatened to part So what that we are plummeting to our deaths, as your lips, oh force your lips are so sweet and soft, Master. You had your eyes scrunched shut, pushing forward with your head you melded into me. You tucked into a certain angle and I almost laughed, bare chest tickled by your roughened robes. You want to be on the bottom, Master? What would it matter, my flesh pounded into yours or vice versa? But you knew you've extinguished my hopes of going through with this. I would never let you die. I kissed you again and tell you so through the training bond. Your lips are next to mine ear, and you chose not to reveal yourself to my mind, instead you shouted in the gusting wind. "You will marry him?" My heart
burst, black and bitter juices over-brimmed inside the cavity of my chest.
I conceded defeat by nodding and you sealed my fate with a tentative touch
on my cheek. We drew apart and centered ourselves in The Force, turning
lead hearts into You did not
spare a glance for me, Master. Yet, in your silence, I had the pleasure
of watching desperate relief swirl about you, like the lower level smog
we had approached as we fell. And your left hand was thrown to your side,
stretching towards me; fingers slightly curved in so warm and needy a
gesture that it aroused me. Without another thought I clambered on all
fours "I love you Master, it's driving me mad," I wanted to nuzzle your chest, over the spot where your heart is to see if it there is still a beat in that stone organ. I pushed through your robes with my nose, suppressing the urge to angrily tear it away with my teeth. // Why won't you say something? // I send you my frustration and hurt and meet very heavy shields. Your long
thin lashes lowered, as you looked down at me, a curious statement in
your eyes, what I would call romantic condescension. Surly Master, is
pity all you can feel for me? I nearly choked on a bit of fabric but it
was worth it as I found a nipple. Softly I touched my lips to it and was
relived that you seemed unaware of the intrusion. Nervousness made me The sound of running feet and billowing robes as well as the blanket of soothing aura they insisted on projecting each time they neared the scene of an incident, like an emotional straitjacket, announced the arrival of the healers. And they pealed me off you, pulled my suckling mouth away. Someone was repeating next to my ear that you weren't conscious. Something about a concussion and psychic shock, depletion of strength and the consequent shut down of body and mind due to the effort of levitating two bodies for a long distance. None of it made sense to me however, as I focused on the luscious look of your nipple, wet and darkened with my drool, as they carted you off on a stretcher. In my head your voice was still with me, repeating that damned sentence like a force command "You will marry him." sealed with our first kiss.
Chasing after
stories that have already been told
Apparently,
this fate bond was a big deal. Because the council went to great lengths
to reenact ceremonies once observed in antiquity. Whilst I was kept in
an empty, well-lit room, sedated. All the initiates who worshipped the
Clear Force prepared. They sat through a fast, facing a blank wall, meditating
on clarity. They examined one question "what is real and what is I was simply desperate to see you, Qui Gon. I did not have a single visitor in my room, rendering it a hygienic cell. Droids came to check on me, without voice chips so no matter how I re-wired them they could not tell me anything. The Force was my only comfort. And through it I called for you, I cursed you, I said tender things into the link at night and woke up crying into your mind. Yet always, on your end there was emptiness. I knew you were ignoring me. I knew. Finally, I barrowed into the mind of a young padawan passing near my cell and found out that the Masters of the temple were bathing in the fresh spring, which sprang from the naval stone in the Top Garden, preparing for a collective mediation over what this fate bond would bring to the Order. I saw through his mind's eyes a scene of him attending you and the other Masters. There was an amour-tainted memory of you standing naked, face grim as the Padawan soaped your back. I grumbled deep in my throat at the discovery and tore the memory out to keep as my own. The Padawan collapsed with a whining cry and was taken into the other wards. * * * * * The day dawned at four o'clock in the morning when Winter Coruscant was gray and ashen. Against the overcast backdrop the colors of the procession was intense. A group of Jedi children dressed in worn brown tunics. Their long hair, untouched by the padawan cut, blown into their faces as they danced with blazing torches. Directing the force to spill the fire into the atmosphere, roaring to a height several feet above their heads. Behind them, padawans performed the Runner's Katas empty handed. Then the Masters followed, in silk black robes that hid everything and made them look like goblins, as they approached the ivory Council ship The Stigmua pre-programmed for Hoth. We moved
on. In a seething mass towards the hanger bay. No one outside the Jedi
was there to observe the cacophony. Not even the politicians who are so
close to the Jedi nowadays, I noted to myself. But of course, with one
exception. Senator Palpatine stood at the door of The Stigmua, in a dark
blue coat, black leggings, bejeweled slippers and a burgundy vest. His Our procession reached the ship and with the halting of the march, silence took over. My bearers set me down at the foot of the ship's silver ramp. Scattered with the head of white flowers, yet still it looked like a post-mortem table to me. The Masters
formed the position of the Northern Sector about me, and I twisted my
head to search for you. There you were, Qui Gon, in the standing of Qupid.
And the other Masters pointed their lightsabers at you. You bowed deeply
to them all, no sign of fear in your serenity. Then you turn the bow into
a duck, a point of pivot and a challenge. I don't see you fly enough I do not know where I found the strength, but I rolled off the cushion and slammed into the ground before you. With a face full of dirt I looked up at you, at your large hand trembling as it reached for my braid. I will not lie to you Master, I think the urge to revenge upon you was spawned in my heart then. Strategies flittered through my head. Perhaps I could grab a saber and get a good poke at you before I am seized. Perhaps I should wait till Palpatine nears me and I could assassinate him. Perhaps, I should try the lightsaber again on myself. You grasp my braid and my mouth open but I could not find the words. What am I supposed to say? "Master, you bastard! How dare you not love me! How dare you not renounce your Jedi for me! How could you marry me off? How do you think your Senator will do me?" But no, you did not take my braid. And even as the council shifted about in mute anxiety, you smiled and said in a small voice "Obi-Wan you don't look very well. " My eyes widen with shock, what is this? What are you saying? What are you hinting at? This fate bond, is it my trial? Well that's just plain madness, I want the standard four-hour sitting of a written essay on the meaning of the Force. Not this go insane being separated from your Master trial. And no, definitely not the get fucked by Palpatine question. My mind in a delirium, I was in no shape to listen to your profound mutterings as you carried me abroad. Into the center of the ship, there were two tanks installed there, one was modified to hold bacta, the other a luxurious stasis tank. You stow me into the empty bacta tank and as you put the mask over my mouth you shake me a little. "Remember Obi-Wan, your focus determines your reality," you clamp the sleeping gas over my nostrils and my focus became decidedly wonky.
La la la
la la la la la la la laaa..
FIRST DAY ON HOTH - Morning I woke up cleaned and seated at a breakfast table, at the rear of a strange villa. In what would be called a sunroom. The sun shone brightly on the everlasting expanse of snow. I can see soft hills drift into the far distance. The couch was covered by soft furry skins, a vase of colorful hothouse flowers stood red and scarlet at the center of the glass table. A droid came up and served me warm eggs. I looked around the peaceful surroundings and could procrastinate no longer. "I want my old clothes, not these," I gestured to the white silk robe with rims of fur that engulfed me. "And where is your master?" "Yes Lord," the droid answered quietly. "And our Master is away. He will return tonight." *Our* Master, I simmer with anger as I waited. The droid came back in a few moments later with a small handful of my belongings. I took over the box and emptied the contents onto the carpets. Hastily I pulled on the pair of thick leggings and shrugged off the expensive robe I had on. The villa was far too luxuriously warm for my taste. Only two more things remained on the floor then, a lightsaber and a very dirty robe. I look at the robe. Then pure joy coursed through my body. It was your robe. I touched it, and let the force guide my mind; slowly a vision bloomed before my eyes. The stasis booth empty, you had stayed with me till the end of my journey. Pulling me out of the bacta tank, entrusting me to the droid and right before you left, you took one last look at me. Sighed and peeled off your robe, tucking me inside it and standing stock still at the door of The Stigmua, as the hatch closed. I hug the robe to me, and something fell out of a sleeve pocket, a tiny data chip, with fine ink on its label. QGJ Private.
FIRST DAY ON HOTH - Noon There was
a library on the second level. I chanced upon it whilst frantically searching
for a data-pad. There were none to be found; instead, I had stumbled into
the Master bedroom. Wooden furniture here, a large mirror hung over the
bed, my lips meshed together with distaste. Pleasure. Pleasure without
you would be pain. I skirted the downy blue bed and its The wall
I leaned on shifted and I found myself in a damask room. filled with books.
With wonder, I traced my fingertips over their golden spines, pondered
over the model of the inner-rim on the desk. There, I found pens, paper
and ink. Nothing that was not archaic and charming, useless. There were
several things on the shelves that I had heard you talk about as your TC-14 was apparently the only droid in the whole damned place and hence my only conversation companion. I asked it to sit down and began to drink the tea it prepared. "So, TC-14," I gazed over the droid from behind my fine china cup. "How long have you been in the service of.our.master?" The droid spilled a number. I noted nonchalantly that it was the same time I became your Padawan. That is how I measure time in my life always. Before You and After You. I would not like it to become Before Palpatine or After Palpatine. "That is a long time TC-14," I kept using its full serial number, to humiliate it, I think. "Yes Lord," it addressed me formally and even its metallic voice sounded amusingly uneasy. "I have looked after this estate for the Master ever since. However, I have not met a human being before you, lord. I am so glad you came, for I was very lonely. I mean I liked taking care of the large compound and growing plants in the warm house. But I was built for servicing humans, I have the most complex conversation making cards." I smiled at the babbling droid and it went instantly quiet. "What's wrong?" I frowned at it. "Your facial statement, Lord," it's voice chip had a high percentage of stasis in it, indicating the effort it took the droid to calculate what was unnerving it. "It.does not compute. My binary emotion chips are telling me that it is a smile, indicating you're happy, without a care, yet.dangerous." "Oh?" I raise my eyebrows. "No, wait a second please lord," the droid crooked its head one more moment and suddenly its eyes blinked and clumsily the droid tried to stand up. "Sit!" I say out loud, a service droid had to obey any human voice unless preprogrammed otherwise. Palpatine obviously wanted me to use this one for chores and the like, so it obeyed implicitly, despite all its brain circuits' unwillingness. The droid looked at me terrified. "You're not well Lord," it squealed. "Not at all! You need immediate medical attention, please let me fetch you some sedatives." "Drink. TC-14" I grinned at it coldly and ordered. ".Oh lord." the droid pleaded with his eyes bright like headlights, as its hand picked up the cup before it, a cup of black tea with milk and sugar which it was programmed to prepare in a mechanical imitation of keeping me company in the tea drinking ritual. The droid screamed when the tea flooded its head and it was terminated. With a triumphant giggle, I leapt upon the wreck and pulled off its head with a butter-knife as a screwdriver, before the water could seep down and destroy the parts I wanted. I had to cut through the breastplate with my 'saber, sure, I could have just incapacitated TC-14 with the saber before, or simply asked nicely. But I did not feel generous, and it was rather delightful, watching it shut up slowly. Why should death come easily, like a discreet thief, it would not for me.
FIRST DAY ON HOTH - Afternoon I gutted the droid of its wires and motors, fidgeting with the devices to make a basic data-pad. All the bits and parts on my lap and spilling off the couch, the sacked body of TC-14 at my feet. Then I discovered the environment system for the villa was monitored by the droids' central processing unit. So an hour after the settings were not updated the charming domestic paradise rotted in the cold. The lights went off, and could not be switched back on. The heating died and the coldness of Hoth began to swallow up the entire building. The flowers in the hothouse turned into a blackened heap. I know this because through the master bedroom, there was a window that looked in through its transparent roof. And whilst I was there, I cut down a post from the bed, watched the mirror crush down and shatter over Palpatine's bedcovers, imagining with glee the image of his body rolling and writhing on the shrapnel. I sliced off a bit of the bedpost and tossed it into the fireplace in the kitchen. The treated wood gave black smoke and stained the originally decorative chimney. My face glowed warm before the fire and I snuggled down in your robe to read your diary. TC-14's voice annunciated your words in a monotone because I could not make a visual projector. It was the last entry.
"Flight date 7th: Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan Kenobi." I sneered at the entry. What was that supposed to tell me? I rewind it a bit more, to the day after my first suicide attempt. "Day 14th, Summer Cycle Coruscant: Obi-Wan tried to kill himself today." I chuckled maniacally. Direct. ".I stopped him." Yes you did Master, I coo at TC-14's head, gathering it underneath my arms, I rest one ear over the droids' mouth, turned the volume low and cuddled myself. ".I'm not sure if everything is going according to plan. I am not sure any longer if I am doing the right thing. But I want it so badly!" The great, serene, *heartless* Qui Gon Jinn wants something? I rolled my eyes. What did the Sith promise you Master that has made you sell me like this? "Obi-Wan is not all right. Something is very wrong with him, as we had all feared. But he was such a perfect, controlled.loving Padawan. Maybe the fate bond wasn't meant to happen. Maybe the idea of marrying a man twice his age is as despicably distasteful to him as I had warned Yoda. Maybe the Sith has gotten to my Padawan. I want to tell him. Damnit! Windu is calling. End." Each entry
was as baffling as the one after it. I tried to work my brain around what
you were expressing, but nothing made sense. I was frightened. Because
the short day cycle has ended and now ghostly winds of white snow danced
past the small kitchen windows. Darkness enveloped the dead villa and
TC-14's voice was growing faint as the power cell ran out. I regretted
FIRST DAY ON HOTH - Night Stairs. I bounded up the stairs, putting as much distance between myself and that icy hand of Hoth's black night. A small weather watchtower was atop the villa. A very small and dirty bed was stuck inside the tiny place. I crawled under the sheets and guarded my heart with my saber, lying still and struck with terror, I waited. I re-opened my eyes in what seemed like a moment later, but I wasn't sure if I had not gone catatonic for a while there. It was getting intolerably cold and I knew from the heaviness of my limbs I was powerless to fight it. The Hoth storm had probably taken out the wall of the lowest level, where I breeched the delicately balanced protective structure of the building. I thought I heard the sound of furniture tossed by the storm, but it probably was my imagination. Because I didn't hear the engine of Palpatine's ship when it landed.
Chasing after
stories that have already been told
He came to
my door, I blinked at how tall he looked, clad in fur from head to toe.
A portable heater glowed orange in his hand; he placed that at the foot
of the bed. Then slid from its illumination and moved towards me. Paralyzed
by an agony of frozen limbs, I could see nothing but the whites of his
eyes. And in that split second of contact, a spearing light shot through Gloved hands
touched my cheeks and the skin there was instantly aflame. He growled
quietly and the sound elicited an unconscious moan from me. I wanted to
cry but my lips quaked into a wanton smile under his massaging fingertips.
Blindly, I fumbled to grip the cumbersome body sitting on my stomach.
He felt like a bear, of similar proportion, strength and brutal I succumb
to the motions of this male thing, snaking his way under the foul sheets,
a large hovering ghost covered in white fabric, warm bundles of cloth
caressing down my lower tummy. A hot mouth closed over my cock and I screamed,
hissing and scrambling to get out of that amazing heat. But he kept sucking
and I thought I'd bleed myself dry, down that silky throat. His I could well
imagine those hands to be my Masters. In my mind, through the Force, it
*was* Qui Gon who was bedding me. Who was silently pushing a hard cock
into me, slick with pre-cum. It was his thick scrotums against my buttocks,
and his hot cock poking into my prostate. It was him who I was impaled
on, he who staked me and took me to the alter, my body jerking on his
cock, boneless and mindlessly. He took my spirit and rendered it his,
he gave me pleasure and broke my world. He plunged harder into me, his
cock felt so good, so very good. I thrash on the bed, I wrapped my legs
around his hips, I bore my shoulders into the headboard and I scream for
him to fuck me more. To never let it end, to do it till I'm dead. Just
deeper, I clenched
my buttocks, wanting to feel his force. And he stirred restlessly as he
moved forward and back and I feel the insatiable hunger pouring out of
him, desire so thick it caused him pain. I was close, I could feel the
pushes of his cock in shadowy sensations up to the base of my neck. The
muscles compressed in my back, they bunched and I arched into the Oh fuck,
fuck, fuckfuckfuck. "I want to fuck you," I said to him and
even near orgasm that made him pause. It made of him a funny dumbstruck
figure. I press my lips to his mouth. Push my tongue against the fabric,
and he gave me entrance, so I pressed the mouth of the saber into his
chest and quickly pushed the activation button. He slumped against me
and came at the same Yet, as I stood at the door of the attic, curiosity burned in me. The thrill of the kill not yet worn off, the buzz of the sex would stay with me forever. I turned around. Walked to the bed, lifted the heater and basked the body in its orange glow. I pulled away your sheets and it was you, Master. |
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