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Pain.
Pain without beginning, pain without end. It is her universe now; she can’t remember a time without it.
“Give us the location of the Rebel Base.”
No. Just kill me.
The needle stabs into her jugular vein again. It means nothing.
A new burst of pain, intense and dizzying. She can’t feel her limbs anymore. She’s not certain she has limbs anymore.
“Give us the location of the Rebel Base.”
I’ll die first.
The needle. Yet again.
She can’t breathe. She’s drowning. Why didn’t she ever learn to swim? Mountain lakes. She would have sworn…
“Give us the location of—”
“Forgive me, Lord Vader, but additional application of psychoactive drugs is liable to cause permanent brain dama—eerghurkurghurglee!”
“Very well. Perhaps it is time to try something different.”
He’s coming closer.
No. Don’t.
Something touches her forehead—
***
She awakens with a sickening jolt and slaps the thing touching her forehead away.
“Hey, whoa! Relax! It’s just me.”
Leia opens her eyes to the soft light of a lazy summer morning and her lover clutching his slap-stung hand and looking mock-aggrieved. Oh, right. She’s safe at home, in her own bed in her own room of the Aldera Palace.
Thank goodness. It was just a nightmare.
“Here, give me your hand, and I’ll kiss it better,” she says by way of apology.
It’s an offer more suited to a child suffering from a scrape than a man practically old enough to be her father. She’s never let the age difference bother her, though, and she isn’t about to change her mind about it now. Not while they’re together like this—and overjoyed to be returned to each other after such a lengthy absence.
Her lover grins and holds out his hand. Leia kisses the palm and then the wrist and then slowly but surely up the tender flesh of the inside of his arm until she is close enough to his mouth to claim it with her own. They embrace as their tongues twine and duel passionately.
They are belly to belly now, and her lover is a large, long, broad-shouldered body resting protectively over hers. He is hard, of course, and the blunt head of his cock is rubbing a rather less than subtle suggestion against her clitoris. A red-hot spear of desire lances through her. She is already wet and ready for him. No further foreplay will be necessary.
“Must be nice not to have to…rough it out in…what was the name again…?” her lover mumbles between playful nips on the shell of her ear.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you just say you want it rough?” Leia snickers.
With a single, smooth motion, she flips her lover over onto his back, straddles his hips, and guides him inside of her. He’s as big and thick down there as he is everywhere else. The stretch, the feeling of fullness, is delicious. She looks down on him; he’s still grinning. Leia is going to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face.
She begins to rock and grind against him, and he strokes upward in perfect complementary rhythm, holding onto her waist to keep her steady as she rides his wonderful cock.
“You’re being awfully assertive this morning,” her lover remarks with only the tiniest hint of breathlessness to betray the urgency of his own burgeoning arousal. “Aren’t they man enough to keep you satisfied over at—”
Leia grabs her lover’s ridiculous mop of honey-blonde curls and yanks his head up toward hers. He obliges her unspoken demand, suckling on her breast, her collarbone, her neck, and back down to her other breast.
“I’ll have you know that the Rebel Alliance comes first, second, and last in my life. I don’t have time for more than one thing on the side,” she grits out as her thrusts against him accelerate, forcing him back down flat on the bed. The slapping sounds and musky smells of their sex are intoxicating. Her clitoris butts up against his pubic bone whenever he’s in her all the way to the hilt, and he is hitting her over and over and over in just the right places inside. Ah yes, she is moments from coming—
“I don’t believe you,” her lover pouts. Heh, he looks positively boyish when he does that! “Give me the location of the Rebel Base, so that I can go talk to all the randy pilots you say you’re not fucking myself—oh!”
She has penetrated his mind while he continues to penetrate her body, and she can feel what he feels, think what he thinks. She knows he sees someone who is idealistic and strong and everything he has ever wanted in a woman. She knows he is drawn to her fire, her conviction, and that it kindles an answering, identical flame within him. He sees the best of himself in her; indeed, they could almost be one. Yes, they are becoming one—
When Leia’s orgasm hits, her lover is swept up in it too, and he gasps and thrashes beneath her as his semen spurts into her. He truly is a skilled lover. Even after he’s finished, he knows exactly what to do to drag her orgasm out and then to make her come a second time, frozen in an eternity of purest ecstasy. It’s incredible, unbelievable. It’s absolute toooooortuuuuuure…
Torture?
Her lover’s cock slips out of her with a wet plop, and Leia collapses like a marionette with its strings cut against her lover’s strong, muscular chest. With supreme effort, she lifts herself partway up so that she can look into his eyes.
“I don’t remember your name,” Leia says.
“Wha—?” her lover begins, seemingly dazed and inarticulate after their mind-numbing pleasure.
“Your name,” she repeats urgently, fear rising. “What is your name?”
“That’s…that’s not important,” her lover says and starts to look away.
But Leia takes his face between her hands and holds it steady, trying to see into his eyes. The irises are the blue of a mountain lake, and the pupils are depthless, almost but not quite black, and she can—
***
She can see her own horrified expression reflected in the ruby lenses of Darth Vader’s mask.
Leia is back in her cell, strapped into the interrogation chair.
Her mind is clear, and although she feels weak, the pain is gone. In fact, her body is still throbbing with…
“What did you do to me, you monster?” she croaks.
He removes his splayed, gloved fingers from her forehead and steps back. He does not reply.
Suddenly, Leia remembers that no one knows what Vader looks like without that life support suit, and she herself had never stopped to wonder. Her big, broad, beautiful lover with the curly hair and the boyish face…? No, surely not…!
“This interrogation has failed,” the mechanized vocoder installed in Vader’s suit intones, interrupting Leia’s dawning realization before it can take full form. “Alternative arrangements must be made. I am certain Grand Moff Tarkin will have some excellent ideas about what to do to persuade you, Princess.”
END