Chapter 10

Corellia's manicured, sculpture-lined streets were pockmarked with craters and made hazy by plumes of smoke that billowed up from the husks of buildings. Morda found herself agreeing with Jaesa when she had first set eyes on the extent of the destruction. Jaesa had called it beautiful, and it was in its own way. It was a sign of the sheer might and reach of the Empire that a once glorious city could be brought so low. The Corellians thought themselves safe and protected in their bubble of refinement, but their soldiers bled just like everyone else's, their buildings crumbled into the same unsightly rubble, their ideals were just meaningless words.

The section of the city that Morda was in now had seen particular devastation and was unsafe for even traveling by speeder. Morda and Quinn picked their way through the cracked streets, past collapsed tram stations and alongside the tall, empty eyes of windowless skyscrapers. Distant explosions still vibrated in the air from the occasional aerial assault. Quinn followed silently behind Morda, stepping up quickly to her side to take hold of her arm and right her from falling when a piece of pavement broke away under her foot. He had been unusually diligent since the incident on the transponder ship, and she had to admit that she actually enjoyed his increased attention.

She stopped at the lip of a large crater which had cut a hole into the street, making further passage difficult. She heard Quinn's footsteps approaching and saw him from the corner of her eye as he came to stand at her side. Even after what had happened in the transponder station, Morda found that she had not been able to keep her anger kindled at him for long. She was alarmed at how well Quinn had pulled off his deception but begrudgingly she respected him for it. He would never be able to best her in a duel with a blade, but he was a more adept player in this game than she had ever imagined. A worthy opponent with that degree of skill should never be made into an enemy. Would she have ever thought such a thing of a Force-blind? He was no Sith, but he had stood toe to toe with her and faced down his own death with courage. She suspected – and this was a hard truth to admit – that he could have killed her in any number of clever ways at any time. He may have even succeeded too. But he had chosen to give her a warrior's battle, an honorable fight, and when she had looked into his eyes in those frantic first moments, she had not seen hatred there, or derision, or mockery, like she had seen in so many other opponents. She had seen resignation. He had entered that room never expecting to leave it alive. It was the choice of a man who felt cornered and desperate.

Quinn had tied his himself mistakenly to Baras, but Morda had felt the lie within him. Quinn hated Baras. If Quinn had been born a Sith, he would have been a natural leader. He was proud and reveled in what little authority he was given. As a Sith, he would have drawn strength from that power, and he would have inspired similar passion and dedication in others. Instead he was Force-blind, and virtually invisible in the eyes of the elite Sith he served. How many times had Morda taken him for granted herself? She had seen him as an object to be possessed and enjoyed, and it had taken him being turned against her before she had realized his true worth.

He teeters on the brink of being a broken man, she thought. It would be so easy, too easy really, for her to snap the tenuous link that held him together and remake him into something of her choosing. Pierce didn't understand why she had spared Quinn and had even dared to argue with her over it, but he couldn't see what Morda saw. Quinn's loyalty would never come into question again. He was bound to her with shackles stronger than any slave collar, and she suspected that if she asked it of him, he would give everything he had without hesitation. She trusted Quinn now more than any other member of her crew. The thought was a strange one indeed.

She looked at him now as if seeing him for the first time. He was angry, resentful, and had lived a life of self-denial that rivaled that of any ascetic Jedi. I will not give up on him, she decided.

He still desired her. She had felt it in him when she had reached into his head. He kept it carefully coiled, but just brushing her mind against it had been like a fiery touch that sent pangs of painful longing through her. He was the most challenging prospect she had ever attempted to reach, but the pay-off would be grand. If only he could harness all that turmoil and pain within him. He would be a formidable force. Maybe she could free him at last from these chains. Was it worth another try?

His eyes reached hers and he nodded cautiously. "My lord?"

"We'll have to pick our way around this. Let's go."

They followed the edge of the crater, pressing themselves against the wall of a crumbling building. Ahead was a storefront whose windows had been blown out, and as Morda drew closer, she heard a snap from under her boot like that of a twig breaking. She lifted her foot and saw a tiny toy spaceship. It was missing a wing, but reminded her immediately of the toy Pierce had given to Mordius, and which she had tucked into the baby's blanket before handing him over to the smuggler at the spaceport. Morda looked around what remained of the shop. It was mostly unrecognizable rubble now, but she spotted a rack of toy blasters still intact, and a stuffed green Twi'lek Jedi doll.

A huge crack in the street ran in front of the shop, stopping at the corner where the street met another, even wider thoroughfare. The shop was on the corner and Morda could see right through the smashed walls to the other side of the street. She began to trudge through the rubble so she could pass through the store and to the other side.

"I used to have some of these," she heard Quinn say from behind her.

Morda turned to see him holding a small package with a toy soldier inside. He turned it back and forth in the light. "I had three whole armies actually."

Morda came and stood beside him. "I can imagine you as a kid playing with a toy army."

He looked up, his eyes bright. "These were more than toys, my lord. They were part of whole sets, and we'd paint them and then set them up against other people's armies in huge tabletop games."

"Oh, you mean like Holobattle Heros?"

"No! Well, yes sort of. But these were far better. You could completely customize them, and there's nothing like being able to hold the real thing, rather than a holo image. It's becoming a lost art, I fear."

Quinn stared at the soldier, his gaze wistful and a bit sad. For those brief few moments, Morda had heard more passion in his voice than he had expressed in a very long while. She tried to imagine him as an idealistic boy, so eager to test his skills and talents on the real world. When had it been beaten out of him? He set the soldier down gently on top of a pillar of rubble. As he walked away, Morda made to follow him, but then turned back abruptly, scooping up the package and shoving it into her cloak pocket.

She headed for the blasted out wall on the opposite side of the shop. Her foot kicked a small colorful ball and sent it bouncing across the floor, leaving a trail in the dust. She picked it up.

"Hey Quinn!"

He turned, and she threw the ball at him fast. He jumped back, his arm flying out instinctively. The ball bounced off his palm but he caught it on the rebound before it hit the ground.

"Nice catch," Morda said.

"Almost took my head off, my lord." Quinn's tone was reprimanding, but there was a faint smile there behind his eyes.

"Just testing your reflexes, Captain."

Another broken toy spaceship lay at her feet. This one had a tiny astromech droid fitted into a compartment on the top, and a pilot stuffed inside the cockpit. Morda popped open the front and the pilot fell out.

Quinn came over and stood next to her. "I'm amazed that so much of this inventory is still intact."

Morda tried to put the pilot back inside, but he wouldn't fit now. She growled and shoved him in, but his head broke off and landed among the ash-strewn floor. She sighed.

"I never told you why I went away for all those months," she said. A heaviness was sinking in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"There's no need to, my lord," Quinn said quietly.

Morda ploughed ahead, ignoring him. "I left to give birth to my son." She cast a look in Quinn's direction. He was staring at the floor, his face carefully blank. She knew that look on him by now. It was meant to be disinterested and neutral, but in fact it meant that he had something he was trying very hard to hide. Was he judgmental of her?

"It was Pierce's baby, as you can probably guess. He was a beautiful Pureblood. Beautiful, but…flawed. He was barely Force-sensitive. I had to send him away. I don't know where he is anymore. To my family he is dead."

"I'm sorry, my lord," Quinn said.

"I just wanted you to know that I didn't leave without good reason."

"Your reasons are your own, my lord. I never questioned you."

"Thank you, Quinn." Morda kicked aside a block of crumbling wall and stepped back out into the street. She turned but Quinn was not behind her. He was standing still in the shadows of the shop, looking uncertain. He finally came forward and then stopped in front of her.

"My lord," he said. "I have a confession to make."

"Yes?"

"I followed you to Nar Shaddaa. I found out about...your son."

"You followed me? You knew? Why?"

Quinn straightened his back and stood stiffly, meeting her gaze.

"I tracked Pierce when he left Quesh and realized that you must have sent for him. I was eager for news, for new orders, for…for anything really." He looked away for a moment, casting his eyes down to his feet. "I was…I was jealous, my lord. That you sent for Pierce and not for me." He looked up again, with obvious difficulty. "I'm sorry. I soon realized my mistake. I've been mistaken about you on many things it seems."

"You never cease to surprise me." Morda's voice was gentle. There was a pause and then she broke into a smile. "You were jealous? Really? Of Pierce?"

Quinn blushed and looked away. "Forgive me."

"Forgiven," Morda said. "You have no reason to be jealous now. Pierce is a good soldier, but there is nothing more between us."

Quinn nodded, saying nothing. He paused and appeared to be gathering his thoughts, "There's something else I should say, my lord."

"Go on."

"I was wrong about you. I've seen you show mercy so many times to your fallen foes, and I didn't always understand your motives or the wisdom behind your choice."

Morda nodded, encouraging him to continue. He swallowed and took a breath. "I never dreamed that I would one day find myself in their place. I understand now. I owe you a powerful debt, and I am most grateful that you have given me another opportunity to prove myself."

"I would never throw away someone as skilled as you, Quinn. I took you for granted and I regret that now. I won't make that mistake again."

"You have been more than generous, my lord."

They walked beside each other, saying nothing for a time. Another pit in the ground slowed them up and Quinn stepped ahead, offering Morda his hand. Morda didn't need such assistance, but she took his hand anyway, enjoying the feel of his dusty palm against hers. When she crossed to the other side, she tightened her grip and stopped him from walking away.

"My offer still stands, you know."

Quinn hesitated, but Morda felt the change in the air, a heavy anticipation, both hopeful and full of trepidation. "And what offer is that?" Quinn's voice was low and quiet.

Morda stepped close. "I still want you," she said. "You are the only one I have ever really wanted. You know that, don't you?"

Quinn's voice was barely a whisper. "Is that so, my lord?"

"My bedroom door is always open." Morda waited for the refusal, but none came.

"I will keep that in mind," he said instead.

00o00

"Be safe, Malavai." Quinn's mother took his head in her hands and gave him an unexpected kiss on the forehead.

"I will do what I can," Quinn answered. "The important thing is that you are safe. Do you have everything you need?" He looked around the cottage, which still lingered with the musty scent of long disuse. He had vacationed here with his family when he was a child. How much smaller and overgrown the place looked now. He hoped his mother would be safe here, and well hidden from Baras and his spies.

"The droid will get me anything I need," his mother answered. "I won't even need to leave the house. Although I plan to tidy up the garden out there. I've got to have something to keep me busy, you know."

"I can't tell you how long you'll need to stay here, but I will be in touch when I can."

"I know."

"If you do go out, take the HK unit with you. You must never been seen alone." Morda had gone to great lengths to acquire a rare and expensive Hunter-Killer assassin droid, and Quinn had been stunned when she had offered to loan it to him for use as his mother's temporary body guard. The offer had been surprisingly generous.

Quinn turned to the droid, which was standing nearby. "You will allow no one on these premises, sentient or beast, that is not on the accepted list. Do not hesitate to take action."

"Acknowledgment," the droid answered. "All troublemakers will be deleted."

Quinn nodded to his mother. "I should go then." He had checked the perimeter sensors, had helped stock the food stores, and had left her a supply of back-up power cells. He had done all he could. She also had the company now of two droids, a basic medical unit and the HK assassin. It would have to be enough.

He got in the rented land cruiser and gave his mother one last wave. He hated leaving her without human company, but a person could be bribed, so he had been forced to cut the maid's services until further notice. The droids were safer.

He sped away, glancing back once in the mirror to see his mother's small frame turn and disappear into the cottage. As he rode through the jungle, he listened to the comm chatter from the planet's military frequency. It was filled with the usual: troops movements sent to quell the latest slave rebellion outside Kaas City, requests for more med supplies to the remote jungle outposts, coded references to various operations throughout the area. His old authorization code still worked from his days on Balmorra, so he monitored an encrypted frequency next. It was an officer's channel, used mostly by space captains, and from down on the planet's surface the static was considerable. He couldn't decipher much, since many of the signals needed to be run through a translation program before the real message was revealed. He was just about to shut it off when he heard the unmistakable sound of a distress call. He waited to see if another ship was going to respond, but the interference was too great.

When he arrived at the spaceport, he found a quiet seat in the lounge and checked the transit schedule. His flight to Vaiken spacedock was delayed - again. He returned to monitoring the encrypted channel. He had not expected to learn much by this, but this time he recognized the signal as coming from a ship belonging to Moff Broysc's fleet.

He sat back in his chair, the comm unit dropping into his lap. If the Moff disappeared into a black hole, he wouldn't have been happier. But this call was from Major Ovech, one of Broysc's commanders and a man that Quinn knew and respected. His thoughts raced, weighing his options and responsibilities. A moment later he made his decision and called Lord Morda.

00o00

Morda strode across the hangar of the Imperial Dreadnaught The Red Wingmaw. A soldier hurried to meet her, clearly agitated. He started speaking as soon as he came within hearing range, his voice quavering with either fear or indignation, Morda wasn't sure which.

"My lord, to what do we owe this visit?"

Morda pushed past him, not even bothering to meet his eye. "I am the Emperor's Wrath. My reasons are not your concern. Is this ship battle ready? I want to see the armaments and ship's manifest."

The soldier raced to catch up with her. "Yes...of...of course. Right this way, my lord."

Morda wasn't really interested in the details of this battleship's operations. Her goal was to distract the crew and buy time for Quinn to slip out of the hangar and find his way to the bridge. According to Quinn, Major Ovech and a contingent of his men were trapped on a Republic secret weapons warehouse, surrounded and in danger of being overrun. There were plenty of troops ready and waiting to assist the Major on his ship, but Moff Broysc had overridden the major's request for back-up. He was cutting Ovech and his men loose and calling it a loss; anything rather than risk public embarrassment for a raid gone wrong. The ship was under lock-down and Quinn planned to break into the control room and issue new orders. It was a bold move, and Morda approved.

Morda was growing weary of feigning interest in whatever this nervous soldier was saying when Quinn's call finally came through on her earpiece.

I'm in, my lord and the door is unlocked.

Morda turned to the soldier, interrupting him. "Take me to the bridge."

Before she even entered the room, Morda could feel the energy and tension swirling like a thick cloud from down the hallway. It prickled across her skin, danced along her spine, and made her heart pick up pace in response. From within that emotional miasma she could easily pick out the familiar spike of anger that she now knew well. Quinn's brand of passion was always condensed and sharp, a pulse of contained rage which awakened her own Force powers like the caress of a lover. She drank it in and felt her excitement kindle in response.

Upon reaching the bridge, Morda recognized Quinn standing at the helm. He was a cog in the center of a wheel, all the action in the room revolving around him in perfect and defined order. He doled out instructions while crew members jumped to enact his commands, many of them appearing more than eager to do so. Morda suspected that the Moff's order had not been a popular one, especially if this Major Ovech was as well regarded a figure as Quinn said he was.

Quinn had his back her, his shoulders straight and his bearing assured. How long had he been here? A few minutes at most, yet he had clearly taken over command of the ship. He was in his element here. To Morda's Force-sensitive sight he shone like a beacon, and she was instantly taken back in time to their first meeting that day on Balmorra. He was towering now over some commander, who knelt at his feet, eyes ablaze and his look defiant, even though he was already cuffed and detained. They were midway in conversation when she walked in.

"By whose authority do you think you can countermand the order of a moff?" The man's tone was disrespectful and overly confident.

"Moff Broysc has made an error in judgment that has now been overridden. I will not stand idly by while he sentences some of the Empire's finest soldiers to death. Your judgment is in question as well if you cast your lot with the Moff."

Morda approached and a few eyes swung in her direction as she passed. "The Captain acts on my authority," she declared. The commander's head snapped in her direction and he scowled, wisely holding his tongue. "Feel free to eliminate this man if he is causing you trouble, Captain."

Quinn acknowledged her arrival with a nod. "That won't be necessary, my lord." He gestured at two other soldiers who were standing at attention nearby. "Take the commander to the brig to be dealt with later."

As the commander was led away, Morda came to stand by Quinn's side. "What's the status on Major Ovech and his men?"

"His commandos have been dispatched to conduct a rescue operation. I have high hopes for the mission's success. We arrived just in time."

"Pleased to hear it."

"We can depart now my lord. The situation is under control."

They walked in silence through the Red Wingmaw's corridors until they at last reached the hangar.

Watching Quinn, seeing him so obviously at home and in his element, had awoken a new hunger in Morda. Her hands tingled with thwarted Force power and desire swept through her. She would need to release some energy with a good bout of combat practice once on the ship, she decided.

Quinn spoke up then. "Major Ovech would have been a terrible loss. Thank you for allowing me to intervene on his behalf, my lord."

"It was the right thing to do. You will be on Moff Broysc's radar now though."

"Yes, I expect he will retaliate somehow."

"Let him try," she said. "Together we will crush him..." They reached the ship's gangplank and Morda paused at the top. "...just as we will crush Baras when the time comes."

Quinn's eyes were bright and his color was high. "It has been a long time in coming, my lord. I look forward to defeating Baras at your side. I never dreamed that I would see the day when I was finally free of Baras's yoke."

"At least I will be able to fulfil one of your dreams." Morda gave Quinn a reluctant smile. She started to unlock the door release.

To her surprise, Quinn reached out a hand to hold her back. Morda turned and found him standing close behind her, his body almost touching hers. He did not back away when she faced him.

"I have other dreams of you my lord." His words came out in a rush, as if he feared losing the courage to say them. "Even still...even now."

Morda paused. Quinn's gaze was intent, his eyes catching the faint light. She could feel his desire like a heated wave enveloping her with longing and promise.

"Our passion could make us stronger," she said. "You will see."

Quinn's hands slid around her hips and he leaned forward until his lips grazed hers with a feather-light touch.

"I am growing open to the idea, my lord." He sealed her mouth with a kiss.

The door abruptly slid open behind Morda but Quinn saved her from an undignified fall by catching her around the waist.

"Hey, we've been cleared for take-off," Vette said. "You - uhh, am I interrupting something?"

Quinn held her gaze as Morda smiled at him. "To be continued Captain."

00o00

Quinn stood outside Morda's bedroom door. A faint strip of yellow light glowed along the floor, coloring the tip of his shoes, telling him that she was still awake. He ran a hand through his hair. His decision tonight could change everything between them. For good or for ill? A voice inside his head asked him how could dare to presume that any Sith, let alone the Emperor's Wrath, could truly be interested in him. He had always taken the stance that romantic entanglements could only compromise his professionalism, but that was before he had been forced to choose between two powerful Sith. That was before he had chosen to sabotage his own survival in the hopes that Morda would somehow live through a fight meant to kill her. His feelings were already involved. How could he wrest apart the boundaries between his heart and logic now?

He knocked on the door.

After a long pause the door slid open. Morda stood before him, dressed for bedtime in a pale yellow nightgown which contrasted sharply with her ruby red skin. She stared at him, her face registering what Quinn suspected was open astonishment. Quinn cleared his throat.

"May I come in?"

Morda backed into the room, still staring. "Of course," she said at last. Amusement passed across her features. "I almost didn't recognize you without your uniform."

The door slid closed behind him and locked quietly. Quinn gazed about the room, taking in Morda's wide bed with the covers drawn down and pillows splashed casually about. There was something intimate about entering such a personal space, and Quinn knew that he had irrevocably crossed a line now by coming here. He realized that he was lingering a bit too long on her bed, and he dropped his eyes away quickly, but not before flashing a glimpse in her direction. She was watching him.

"Something tells me that you didn't come here to admire my interior decorating skills," she said. The faintest smile touched the corners of her lips.

"You are correct, my lord." Out of habit, Quinn began to slide into parade rest, but stopped himself, forcing his posture into a more casual stance. "There is a reason that I came to you here, and at this hour."

Morda was watching him expectantly, and Quinn felt his courage falter. He envisioned himself casting aside all these customary social niceties to simply take her in his arms, toss her onto the disheveled bed, and cover her body with his. Morda was smiling at him, and Quinn felt heat rushing to his face at the thought that he may have inadvertently sent out his thoughts in a way that she could read them. How did one woo a Sith anyway?

"My lord," he began, "I wanted to speak with you privately..."

"Speak to me? Is that all you came here to do?"

"Please," Quinn said, holding up a hand. "Don't make this harder for me than it already is." He took a breath to calm his nerves. "I know I've been too rigid, too inflexible, and I've made every effort to push you away when all I really wanted..." He dropped his arms and looked at Morda. "My lord, I've held back long enough. I won't suppress my feelings and desires any longer."

Quinn stepped forward, suddenly conscious of how little Morda was wearing. The nightgown barely covered her thighs, which were bare, and he wondered what she had on underneath. A voice in his head still reprimanded him for what he was about to do, but another force, a heady, primitive urge, told him that taking her in his arms was nothing compared to all he really longed for, and spurred him on. Her kiss from the night before had lingered endlessly in his thoughts since, and he marveled at how easily that had come compared to now. It had been dark under the ship's overhang, and he had acted spontaneously. Since then, he had had too much time to think and plan for this moment, and now the thought of acting so boldly again filled him with trepidation.

"Permission to kiss you, my lord."

"You never need to ask," she murmured.

Then she was there, pressed against him, her arms sliding around his neck and her lips opening to his. He was acutely aware of the rush of desire which infused his limbs - and certain areas in particular. He broke away feeling dizzy, and looked into her eyes, seeing eagerness there, and hunger. He hesitated, unsure of how to approach the next steps. He was out of practice, he realized, and he wrestled with the need to have her at once, wanting to feel her enveloping him, needing it even, and the equally powerful desire to savor every inch of her and make it last.

She sensed his uncertainty. Was it possible to hide anything from her?

"Something holds you back still," she said. "You look at me and you see a Sith, don't you? To you I am a Sith before anything else."

"My lord," Quinn answered. He was cautious and confused. "What else could you be? There are things which divide us. It will always be so."

She looked thoughtful. "What do you mean?" Quinn was surprised to hear a note of hurt in her voice.

"My lord, I am no Force user and I never will be. I am no Jedi to be turned, or Sith to be mentored. I don't..." He trailed off, not knowing how to express these thoughts and unsure of where they would lead him. "I just...I just don't want to be toyed with." He froze, hoping that he wouldn't regret this unexpected confession. He had never admitted such a thing in front of a Sith before. Normally, it would be tantamount to inviting the very behavior he wanted to avoid.

"You think that's all I want you for?" Morda crossed her arms. "I wouldn't have pursued you this long if you were just a passing fancy, Quinn. It's true that if you were Force sensitive I would have made you my apprentice long ago."

Quinn was surprised and found himself unexpectedly flattered. "You really think that of me?"

She clenched her fist and a look of pain passed across her face.

"Of course!" she said. "I want you by my side, both in battle and in my bed." Gone was the constant note of amusement in her voice, the familiar teasing tone. She touched his collar and ran a finger along the edge. "Your unspent desire...it calls to me," she said softly. "Don't you understand? You bring out the very things that make me alive." She laid her hand across his chest, where his heart was beating an all too fast rhythm, and looked him in the eyes. "By the Force, Quinn, don't keep denying me."

"I will never deny you anything, my lord," he whispered.

"Here in this room, I am just Morda."

He nodded, finding it hard to swallow, and wondered if he could overcome his urge to follow protocol and address her so informally.

She walked away, towards her desk on the other side of the room, and opened a drawer. "I think I know what you need." Her hand emerged from the drawer holding a coiled length of rope. Quinn watched her, trying to hide the sudden shadow of distrust which had fallen over him. Morda approached and held out her hand. The rope was coiled neatly in her palm.

"Take it," she said.

He looked at her in surprise. Her smile was daring and filled with promise. He took the rope.

She held out her arms, her wrists together. "Go ahead," she said, and she leaned close, touching her lips to his ear. "Do it. I know you've thought of it. I am yours to command. What do you want me to be?"

Quinn looked into her red eyes, dark now and wide. There was no duplicity there, only desire. The thought of Morda willing offering herself to him in this way, surrendering to his desires, was novel. And enticing. She was not wrong. He had indeed thought of it, in those most private hours of the night, when his body had kept him awake, aching with a need that could not be sated.

Quinn cast his eyes down at his hands, rubbing the rope with the pad of his thumb. Then he closed his fingers around one of her hands, and began coiling the rope around her wrists. He tied a swift knot, glancing at her the moment he pulled it tight. She was watching him expectantly.

"What I want is…" He stepped back a few paces, letting the long lead of the rope go slack. "I want you to be a beautiful Pureblood…" He backed away a bit further, and the rope pulled taught. "…a Sith lord…" His hand jerked the rope suddenly and she was propelled towards him, where he wrapped an arm around her waist. "…who becomes powerless against me…" His lips brushed against her ear and his knee slid between her legs, drawing her body against his. "…who trembles at my touch…" He held her tight, and realized that he could feel the increasing pound of her heart through her clothes. "…who is at my mercy in all things."

Morda was breathless and quiet. "Then I don't need to pretend…"

"Kiss me."

She gave him a long, slow kiss, melding his lips with hers. When they finally parted, his breath was coming in shallow gasps.

"Do that again."

She obeyed.

Morda then touched the fingertips of her bound hands to his chest, running them down to the edge of the belt at his waist. She met his eyes and gave him a coy smile as she slid to the floor.

Quinn weaved his fingers into her hair, feeling his grip tighten involuntarily when she undid his clothes. A moment ago he had stood on the edge of a precipice, and now he was jumping off, falling headlong into oblivion. He realized belatedly that he was pulling her against him, her hair held taught in his fist, but if his eagerness was too much for her she didn't show it. In fact, she increased the fervor of her attentions, until all coherent thought left him and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift in this sea of glorious, maddening pleasure. He felt the pressure building inside him, his muscles tensing, and he knew she felt it too. He didn't want her to stop, but surely she would be disappointed later if he allowed this to go on to its natural conclusion.

"My lord...Morda..." he managed.

And then it was too late. He held his breath as ecstasy overcame him, gasping and blinked at the ceiling, lost for a moment and unable to speak. Morda sat back on her heels, rubbing her chin with the back of her hands. Quinn stumbled backwards slightly and took a moment to compose himself.

"Did I please you, my Captain?" she asked.

"Was there any doubt?"

She let out a low laugh. "I await your next order."

How many times had he spoken to her similarly? He savored the chill which passed through him. He redressed himself and then looked down, realizing that at some point he had dropped the end of the rope and now it lay at his feet. After retrieving it, he went to her and grabbed the end where she was tied and hoisted her to her feet. He backed away and climbed onto her bed, tugging her closer until she crawled on her knees toward him across the mattress.

He had been warned, early in his career, that working for a Sith could be risky in more ways than one. At one time he had feared that Morda might turn her seductions into an enforced servitude, debasing his real skills and turning him into nothing but a pleasure toy. That had not happened, however, and he marveled now at how he found himself in a very unexpected place. Morda lay beneath him, the nightgown crumpled above her head and tangled in the rope that bound her hands to the headboard. When he dipped his head to kiss her, she tried to catch his lip in her teeth, but he smiled and pulled away before she could capture him. He drank in the way her eyes followed him as he began to move down her body.

Again and again he brought her to the brink, only to deny her a final release. She growled at him and strained at her bonds, but then she quieted, tossing her head and whimpering his name. At last he lured her back to the edge and then over it. A great wave of energy tore through him like a vibration of infrasonic sound - Force power no doubt - stealing his breath and rattling a few of the objects on a nearby table. Morda collapsed against the bed and was still for a long time.

"By the stars, your torment was exquisite." Her voice when she spoke was lazy and slow.

Quinn untied her hands and she curled up on the bed, burrowing her head into the nearest pillow and wiggling against him as he lay down beside her. His hand slid around her hip until it rested against her abdomen, and he thought of the last time he had held her this way, so long ago now on Tatooine. He never would have dreamed that he would someday share Morda's bed, that he could lay here relaxed and content, brushing his lips against her shoulder blade and feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the palm of his hand.

I am happy, he realized. I have no regrets.

Author's Note: I have made edits to make sure this chapter stays within the bounds of the M rating, just to be on the safe side. You may read the original, bolder version of this chapter on Archive of my Own, under my account name there, ACelestialDream.