Author's Note: This is a Watcher X Fill that I wrote on SWTOR Kink Meme on Livejournal. It's got spoilers for Act II's later half. It's F!Agent x Watcher X as well as F!A x Vector. Rated M for wet dream stuff.
"We're all in your head, Agent. You have been their slave since the beginning. I told you my information was worth something. Until you break free of them, until you no longer have to fear names, you must continue to trust no one. Not even me. I am just a hallucination. Don't you remember?"
The Agent tossed and turned that night, repeatedly thinking about the mysterious Watcher who continually popped in and out of her head. She did not want to admit it, but she was beginning to wonder if there really was something to this whole "after life" thing, because Watcher X was really beginning to haunt her, even when she no longer needed him.
She did not want to admit it, but she dreamed about him often even after Quesh, even after the new serum flowed through her veins and up and down her spine. She had nothing to fear now. She was free, at least to a degree. She still worked for Imperial Intelligence, but she knew her limits and had her own boundaries. They knew that she knew. Yet her dreams were borderline waking nightmares.
She dreamed of things she did not wish to dream. She dreamed of control, of lack of it, of watching other use her, and most disturbingly, she dreamed of Watcher X. She began to dread sleep as time passed. The Agent could not avoid the wondering curiosity of her shipmates, and she said with a somewhat angry flush that it was just the stress.
Always the stress. The Agent really liked to tell herself that.
"Why are you doing this?" She asked the dream-version of Watcher X. "I thought I was free?"
"You are free, yes, but that is in reality. This is a dream. Dreams are not reality."
"I never took you for one to know the difference between a dream and reality."
In these dreams, they stood in various places and climates. Sometimes it was Nar Shaddaa, and the Agent was forced to watch Watcher X die over and over. Other times, it was on Quesh, where she watched a different version of what had really happened: the Jedi Master subduing her, killing her or sometimes torturing her. Sometimes she did not know if she was asleep or hallucinating. It bothered her severely.
But this was different.
"Of course I know the difference. You may think me to not be a man, but I am one. You are so brash. Your insomnia weakens you. You need more rest."
"I would love that! I really would! But you know what? I can't really sleep when I have a dead man haunting me!"
His face, even in the lucidness of the dream, did not even show signs of levity. "You know why I am doing this, Cipher."
"Damnit, will you just tell me already? I am so sick and tired of playing these games! I am not your plaything! I am no one's plaything, not anymore."
In this vast, empty space where her dream occurred, she could see clearly that Watcher X's lips curled into a miniscule smirk. All too brief and fleeting, the Agent felt accomplished for being able to bring out a small response from him.
"Tell me, Watcher, who is the plaything now? You or me?"
"I would be careful, Cipher," he chastised, "once the Red Blade, recently the Red Flame. Do you know what you really are dealing with? Has your arrogance overshadowed your reason? Typical."
"And there is a reason why such fitting names have been given to me," she taunted back. She folded her arms across her chest and took a few steps through the white abysmal dream space. The Agent narrowed her eyes and her own confidence grew with each step she took. She observed the Watcher, shirtless as always, barefoot, and sitting with his legs crossed. "I am the master of my own mind, you are my figment of my imagination."
"If you truly believe that, would you exercise the same control as others exercised over you?"
"Yes."
"Your vendetta blinds you."
"It is a vendetta I intend to fulfill one day. I am not some Jedi. I have nothing to fear of darkness or temptation. I am certainly not Sith, thank the stars, but that does not mean that I will not exercise my power when it is sitting stark before me."
"Then what will you do in this dream, Cipher?"
She paused and closed her eyes. Weightlessness suddenly enveloped her and she felt like she was floating or perhaps swimming in the air. She held the sole power in this reality, this surreal lack of reality, this dream, this fantasy. Although her dreams were plagued normally with nightmare, with deceit, with fear, this time she felt the lucidity of this world. Yes, the agent was in control this time.
"Now that you have this power, what will you do with it?"
She stared back at him, watching as his face slightly glowed with bright light, an ironic halo, and searched his expression for anything other than the mock his voice held.
"You said on Nar Shaddaa that seduction could not work on a man who spent time with only droids. You said that a man could not be swayed by the flesh after being surrounded by droids for years. Yet I accomplished that task. I received the intel I needed, through seduction. On Hutta, I tricked a man into giving me his silence by flirting with him. Men are basely primal. I even believe that you, Watcher, could be seduced."
"It is unfortunate that you would use your power, let alone your body, for such a low behavior."
"Are you my conscience too, now?"
"No, Agent, but it is foolish to think that you could beguile me through such means."
"Yet you said it yourself. Have you lost some of your memories, Watcher? Are you purposefully forgetting the words you said on Nar Shaddaa?"
"Not every situation is the same."
"Let's find out, then, who is correct."
The mastermind of the dream, the Agent, used her mental power to transfigure their surroundings into a private lounge inside of what she remembered most clearly, the Star Cluster Casino.
"You said earlier that you are a man, beneath the callous obliviousness, beneath the air of ambivalence, beneath the knowledge, beneath the condescension. Your sister even, Watcher Two, Keeper now, even she falls into her innate feelings. I remember the first time she attempted humor. It was a moment to behold. Humor! From her!"
As the Agent spoke, she walked around the lounge in order to observe the smaller details, a smug sense of knowing how powerful her memories remained in recreating moments, until she turned her attention fully to the Watcher who sat cross legged on the small sabaac table.
"You see, Watcher, when you begin to understand someone, when you begin to really look inside the dirty, damp crevasses of their insides, dig into the really juicy stuff where their secrets and true personalities lie, you can almost alter any situation in order to manipulate it for your own gains."
"And what do you presume to know about me, Cipher?"
"You aren't as heartless as you immediately came across the first time I met you. I will admit that I regret killing you. But you know about that." She stalked closer to the table until she stood before it, still dressed in her nightgown. "You wouldn't be haunting me if you did not possess feelings for me. Now, I know. 'Feelings' has such despicable connotations to it, so I will stipulate. By feelings, I mean the platonic kind. You would not have offered your aide had you not felt pity, or if not pity, then perhaps an understanding of my situation. Of course, I know you wanted to live. But you came back to me, even in death, somehow."
"It was always your subconscious that conjured me, Agent. This is all in your head. I am not real."
"What is real? What does it matter? If this is my fantasy, then I command you to obey and listen. But that is not in your nature. My mind knows you so well, that it is able to construct for the most part your personality. It tricks me into thinking that you are more than a fantasy, that you are somehow really haunting me from the other side. Eventually I will come to terms with it." The Agent tentatively placed a hand on the Watcher's cheek and felt a simmer of heat. "Ultimately my subconscious is in control. It may know who you are, Watcher, and it may know how you would respond to things, but I ultimately have the say. If I become bored with you, my mind will strip you of your personality and impose another. I can make you behave in ways you normally would not."
"So you understand then?"
"I think I do, now. Before, I let the nightmares stand unnoticed and without understanding. But I am always in control, even when my mind tricks me into thinking that I am still subdued." The Agent leaned forward and placed her other hand on his bare shoulder. "You normally wear a red shirt. But I want to see you, to see what they did to you."
"They will do the same to you, soon. Even if you think you are free, somehow they will find a way."
"Then I will face it." She wanted to smile, but her expression remained blank and unmoving. She continued to lean forward until her cheek brushed against his, and her lips were an inch away from his ear. Her pulse quickened as she whispered, "I want you to touch me, Watcher."
"Is that a command?"
"Yes," she said a little too greedily. Her lips closed the small gap, and soon enough she was kissing his left lobe, trailing her tongue down his neck, holding his head in her hands, and falling faster and faster into reckless abandon. Yet the Agent found her voice again, and she leaned away for a short moment in order to say, "But it is also a desire, I will admit. This is my fantasy, if you will not do as I say, then I will force you."
"How odd," he replied as her mouth sucked on his neck. His voice, as flat and unmoving as it always was, held a hint of curiosity and low surprise. The hands that normally were folded in his lap now moved to touch her back and trail over the cloth.
"Undress me," the Agent hissed. It was a command now. She wanted this fantasy to move faster, for her impatience grew steadily with each passing moment. Even if time was not a variable in a dream, she felt its presence regardless. She felt desperate and needy, wanted to be touched and held intimately. It was okay to admit in the false reality. No one would ever know. It was safe here.
Watcher X's hands began to pull at the nightgown, and with an extra bit of help from the Agent, the gown fell away until her skin was bare, taut, and eager for his ghostly hands.
"Go on, Watcher. Try to study this. Try to understand this. I command you to."
"You need not command me for every step of the way, Agent," he sounded slightly annoyed, but ultimately compliant. The Watcher unfolded his legs and they switched positions: the Agent now sitting on the small sabaac table, the Watcher standing before her.
It was almost too much for her to bear. Her hands struggled to contain themselves as the Watcher eyed her up and down, inspecting the growing hot mess that was his mistress. Soon enough, the Agent took one of his hands and with a strong jerk, placed it at her already moist core.
"You should really see yourself, Watcher. Dazed and confused. No matter, even if I have to physically force you, somehow this will be accomplished." Arrogance dripped from her voice, as well as a knowing sense of superiority. She guided his hand over her folds and her lips curled into a taunting smirk. "Just do as I'm doing."
"I can properly see that, Agent."
"Then get to it."
The Watcher no longer hesitated, as his fingers trailed slowly up and down, exploring. He found the places that made her give a low gasp, the places that made her inevitably moan, and the places that made her appear more vulnerable than she would ever have let another see. Her breathing became labored when he focused solely on the sore nub, the source of her strongest moans. His eyes watched her thoroughly, and the Agent forced herself to maintain the same gaze. Her cheeks flushed, and she worried she would lose her sense of control if it continued on any longer -
And then she jolted awake. The Agent opened her eyes startled to see in the darkness of her room, a figure hovering over her. She recognized the figure and with a heavy sigh, she sat up and fumbled around to find the switch to her overhead light. The figure moved away from her bedside and helped her by turning on the light.
"Vector! By the stars you frightened me." She panted a little heavier than she would have liked to in that moment and time. The Agent ran a hand over her face, rubbed her tired eyes, and then dropped the hand away in order to look at the Joiner standing at her bedside.
"We apologize, Agent." His voice, low and a little unsteady, made her wonder how long he had been there, standing in her room, watching her. "We heard low noises, and we wished to see if there was something the matter. There was a strong change in your song."
The Agent's brows narrowed briefly, stunned and confused, until she nodded and smiled half-heartedly. She rubbed her forearms, as if to remove an ever present chill. Her cheeks were flushed both out of embarrassment and from lingering feelings from both her dream and this man, this man who remained in her reality, at her side.
"Is something the matter? We respect your privacy, Agent, but have noticed strong fluctuations in your song and electric aura. We only wish to be of service." As he spoke, the Agent's eyes remained transfixed on his empty, black eyes, the eyes of a Joiner.
"Thank you, Vector, I greatly appreciate it, but I..." her voice trailed off, and for a moment the Agent wondered what was wrong with her. Why she felt compelled to be in control, being trapped by her past. She must have cycled through a variety of expressions in those few moments, because it required the Joiner to speak out again to her in order to draw her away from her trance.
Ultimately, she concluded that she could not do this alone. This was reality now. Her dreams were simply dreams, even if they held a strange sense of consciousness. She dissected the dream in only a matter of moments. She needed to reach out, to grasp something that was tangible. So she would conduct a little experiment.
"Will you stay with me, Vector?"
"We will always be at your side."
"Yes, I understand, but I mean, will you be here for me? Even if I seem far away, lost, or not myself?"
"We understand that you are not a part of the hive. But your presence brings us great strength. We live to serve, you, as Dawn Herald."
"I mean here," she stated as she moved over in her bed in order to make room. The Agent understood that Vector, although a Joiner, was also a man, deep down. Like the Watcher, like so many others whom she dealt with, there was something beneath the initial appearance. Perhaps in her dreams, in her strange fantasy with the Watcher, she was to understand that even behind the disguise, could lay a human being.
"Lay with me," she asked quietly. "Hold me."
"As you wish, Agent."