Disclaimer: Hints of violence and adult situations. I don't own Star Wars or any KOTOR characters.
Note: Darkside Exile (and Revan). How and why Atton deals with his dark lover.
Why did he follow her? Why had he spilled blood upon the dirt of dozens of planets, letting it stain his soul and sword, for her? For her death filled eyes, her tempting, deceptive smile, and her unending, inexorable darkness. All this blood, sweat, pain and passion, for a creature of echoes and death. Why?
Because he loved her. And that was always enough.
Even though she laughed when he dared say it. She looked in his eyes, to his soul, to the emptiness within that she fostered, and laughed.
"One such as you does not love, fool." She rolled her eyes and kissed him, hard, biting his lower lip. "So said the dearly departed Kreia. I believe you could love me, because I have made you, and one loves their creator for a time."
So yes, the fool loved the death of the force, and it was always enough for him to dance in her shadow.
Even when he spilled the blood of Jedi, followers, companions, friends, anyone, upon a Sith War Sword. Not a lightsaber. She'd said no, and she would tell him when he would cut her enemies down with that particular weapon. And she didn't want him to lose his skill with a blaster. It had once disturbed him that she understood that damn red droid's interpretation of love, but now he laughed. She'd expressed her pleasure at HK's methods, including a blaster rifle shot to the throat as far as silencing Jedi hypocrisy. And now, he was the Exile's "shot to the knees of a target 120 kilometers away using an Aratech sniper rifle with a tri-light scope", in HK's borrowed words. Damn that droid. At least Revan had it now.
Oh yes, the evil, dark Lord of the Sith. A woman. A very beautiful women who was like a sister to the Exile. A woman who was still in the Unknown Regions, breaking force sensitives that the Exile sent her. Some that Atton himself caught. Kreia was right about being able to unlock the part of him that loved killing Jedi, but he loved it more when the Exile unlocked it. Seeing her amber eyes laugh as he plunged headlong into a senseless rage, controlled only by her threats and promises. Mostly her promises that made his vision waver in anticipation.
She could be a harsh mistress. Force sensitives every where could testify to that. Sith Masters knew it just as well, if not better. The only difference in her behavior towards him was that she dominated him, wholly and without argument. Punishment was not needed; threats, of pain or otherwise, would suffice. But she preferred to promise him rewards. Her rewards were reaped dually since she'd taken him as some sort of a prostitute (his payment was her company and the fact that he'd gotten a chance with her, Mical be damned). She called him a courtesan that had been inside too many Twi'leks, but that seemed too formal. Hell, maybe it was too polite. He was hers, entirely, in every sense of the word, and he would serve her, love her, kill for her, until his life dripped from him, hopefully, at her feet.
Atton stretched, letting a small smile trail on his lips. The Exile knew how to sleep. She either slept sound or screamed in fierce force visions of cutting down her foes. Atton preferred the former since he didn't get hit in the process and he could watch her. He didn't have to think of the next task she asked of him. She only had to ask. Gone were the days when she demanded. Gone were the days when he would argue as he had aboard the Ebon Hawk. He had no leverage. She didn't need a pilot anymore. But still, she kept him.
He held a strand of her hair in his fingers, stroking it with his index finger and listening to her sedated breathing. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed. He needed to go. He was chasing another Jedi, she'd asked him last night, saying "Tomorrow", which was a word he was used to hearing after an order. It meant she wanted him for the night, but didn't need his presence come morning since he had blood to spill and she certainly wouldn't be making him breakfast. And it was morning.
He hated tomorrow. He loved the night. Hours of endless passion, desire, primal urges, followed by exhaustion and post coital bliss. Then the near endless span of time he would spend with his head on her shoulder, loving her, not having to do anything but stay and love.
He wanted to stay and love forever, but it was not destined to be.
As he moved to press another kiss to her forehead, he felt a hand on his neck, pulling him to her lips. Her kisses were hot and ravenous. She almost choked him as she pulled on his collar. A force restraining choker adorned his neck much of the time until she saw fit to take it off. He didn't mind. It silenced all that drove him, all that he didn't want to hear when she wasn't there to silence it for him.
With a final tug, she pulled him down onto her as he choked, her slim fingers between the choker and his neck. She unclasped the collar and threw it, smiling.
"Tomorrow."
As she ripped open his nightshirt, tomorrow faded, and his love was meant to stay. For now.
Tell me what you think. Should I continue? I almost like it as a one shot, which means I'll leave it as such without someone proding me.
Luvs, and thankies for reading,
Shadows Run