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seriousficSo I'm writing a story in which two female characters from a genre TV show have sex in the Star Wars universe. Dear self, remember when you used to make fun of people like you? (Don't worry, it was loving sarcasm, even back then.)
Title: The Side of Dark And Ecstasy
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,875
Characters/Pairings: Cara/Kahlan, Cara/Garen, Cara/Triana
Previous: The Side of Light And Wisdom
Next: Part 2
Summary: Kahlan is a Rebel officer and Cara is an Imperial defector who's going to get away with her crimes. Until Kahlan thinks of a mission for her to go on. A mission that'll be punishment enough by itself.
Kahlan had given her life to the Rebellion. She had seen unspeakable things and would do worse to bring down the Empire. She had allied herself with Hutts and pirates. She had walked so close to the Dark Side she could feel its shadow over her very soul. And she would do it all over again and more besides to save one innocent life. And Cara knew it, damn her. That's why she'd chosen Kahlan. She'd known there was a ruthlessness in the Confessor that made them twins. So even though Kahlan hated the Mord'Sith, even though there was a time when she'd give anything to see her brought to justice, now Cara was too valuable to the Rebel Alliance for her secrets to come out. If any Rebel but Kahlan knew Cara wasn't really confessed, only pretending to cover her mercenary defection, Cara would be sent back to the Imperials sans space suit.
So Cara escaped justice once more, this time with Kahlan's help. She convinced Richard that Cara being Mord'Sith was just propaganda. When she ordered her to, Cara cut her arm from shoulder to wrist. Richard didn't understand Cara (didn't understand Kahlan). He thought no one would do that to themselves if they had a choice.
Kahlan helped Cara stitch herself up, but wouldn't spare her bacta gel. She could do with a scar.
***
Kahlan thought she could set aside their differences if it weren't for the sex. It'd been good, which was bad enough. But Cara had also manipulated her, insinuated and shepherded and plied, until Kahlan had taken advantage of someone she'd thought was confessed. Cara had brought her closer to the Dark Side then she'd ever strayed and it hadn't been for the greater good, it'd been for sweat and lips and clit.
Words like 'traitor' and 'slut' ran through Kahlan's mind when she heard her own name. Cara made them louder, maintaining the charade of being Kahlan's slave when they were alone, wearing clothes that offered herself to Kahlan without words.
Revenge was not of the Light Side. And Kahlan was a good person. It wasn't her place to punish Cara for her deeds. But some missions required more sacrifice than others and how could she ask her friends to make those sacrifices when Cara was right there, needing to make amends?
Governor Garen of Tantiss III favored pleasure slaves. It was a common vice for Imperial officers, but her tastes weren't. A freed slave gave them chapter and verse, Cara listening on like it was a musical symphony. When Kahlan told her she would have to do the same, Cara met Kahlan's gaze with a challenge in her eyes. Go through with it. Show me who's boss.
When Cara let Kahlan and her team in through the waterworks, her skin was flushed like she'd just been in battle, and she had a grin to match. There wasn't a trace of blood on her.
After, guilt settled on Kahlan like the Force itself was choking her. It wasn't that she thought Cara cared about being used—that would be humanizing her—but Kahlan wanted her to care. She wanted her to hurt, or maybe even to have a soul under all that leather, something that meant being with Kahlan was more than just another play in the Sith's endless infighting.
They first talked about it in hyperspace, one of those long voyages that could make a Jedi Master wish ships were still equipped for cryosleep. They were lounging about the YT-2000's cockpit in shared solace, one of those interims that seemed to inoculate them against the war. Cara was wearing her usual nothing, a sheath of Ithorian silk that caressed her skin as it flaunted it. Cara was surprisingly decadent outside of her duties. Kahlan wondered if it had anything to do with her.
"How was it?" Kahlan asked.
"Don't be oblique," Cara chided.
"Garen," Kahlan said.
Cara smiled to herself. "She berated me as I stripped. Called me whore, slut, trash. It was… nostalgic." Kahlan remembered how she'd heard Mord'Sith were trained. Only females could be that brand of Dark Jedi. "But it got annoying, how she thought words were a substitute for bodies. I shut her up. You want to know how."
It wasn't a question. Kahlan nodded anyway. Stiffly, like she was being dignified.
"I kissed her. Most people see it as such an intimate, loving gesture. They're doing it wrong. I cut right down to the core of her, making her body mine, even if she didn't know it. She ravished me, that's the term your holobooks would use. Flung me down and devoured me from the cunt up, but that's exactly what I wanted. I played her slut, moaning and panting like she was driving me wild. It wasn't much of an act. I just abandoned my control."
Kahlan should've told Cara to stop. It was disgusting, the things she was talking about, turning love into an act of hate, lovemaking into a paean to the Dark Side. But Cara went on, her voice low and breathy and yet somehow neutral even as she put across every detail of every obscenity (so much more sexual because she wasn't trying to be sexual, it was like she was blasé about it, even though Kahlan could see the breath quickening in her breast). And Kahlan listened. She heard every word.
***
Slip-ups were what Kahlan hated worse about the war. She could take setbacks and defeats and pyrrhic victories, but she hated when random happenstance delivered her into the hands of some bounty hunter. Triana Grisk had captured them because the sithspit motivator on their ship, the Stone of Tears, had broken down. Kahlan had just serviced it two hyper-jumps ago and there they were, in the brig of a modified Gymsnor-2 freighter, watching the bitch negotiate their sale to Black Sun. If Kahlan had known rebuffing Prince Xizor's advances would land her in so much trouble, she might not have rebuffed them with her knee.
Kahlan worked her throat hoarse, arguing with Triana about how she was derailing the fate of the galaxy for the sake of money, but the woman wouldn't be moved. Finally, Cara got tired of waiting and pulled her aside.
"You don't trust me," Cara said. "That's good. A mark of intelligence. But I'm going to need you to trust me. I'll distract Triana. You need to find a way out of here and take your shot. Don't worry about me betraying you. I'll back you. I swear it."
"The bonding thing only works if you can keep Triana occupied. How will you do that?"
Cara loosed two fasteners from the bodice of her outfit. The way she moved was different as she went to the bars of their cell. Kahlan couldn't keep her eyes from Cara's well-shaped ass.
"Excuse me," Cara said, leaning against the cell door. "I'm not with her. Surely, you could just drop me off at the next space port?"
Triana smiled deviously at her. "Surely, the Empire has a few credits to spare for the capture of the lowliest Rebel."
Cara pulled aside one flap of her opened tunic. Kahlan could feel Triana's gaze coursing down Cara's décolletage.
"I'm sure we could work something out that's much more profitable for you."
***
After Triana took Cara out of the cell, Kahlan had an easy time picking the lock. Triana had taken Cara to a secluded corner of the ship—apparently exhibitionism wasn't one of her sins. In short order, Kahlan found a weapon and crept to the closed door behind which Cara was surely "distracting" Triana thoroughly.
Kahlan paused, literally with her finger on the opener. Through the door, she could hear noises with a certifiably organic tinge. There was a rapid-fire report of flesh against flesh, Cara grunting harder than she ever had when she and Kahlan sparred, and Triana's husky breathing, pitching higher with each passing moment.
Kahlan could've walked right in and ended it, but she didn't. She just didn't.
"Apologize!" Triana barked.
“Yes, I'm sorry,” Cara gasped, her voice stricken with pain. “Sorry for being naughty, sorry I can't be as good as you. You’re the law, I know that now, and I’ll mind you. Please stop spanking me. It hurts. It hurts so much…"
Only Kahlan would detect the veneer of sarcasm, the over-the-top way Cara indulged her captor's fetish. She'd heard it before, the way Cara wrapped things around to make it clear she enjoyed both the act and the deception, which made her the one with the most pleasure to gain.
"I think you're only saying that to get out of your punishment," Triana sneered. "I think you're still a bad girl."
Cara whimpered. When she spoke, her voice was so sultry, so obviously in control that Kahlan wondered how Triana could ever believe it. "I am. I am still a bad girl. You need to make me a good girl. You need to spank me until I'm a good girl."
"Yes," Triana drawled. Her orgasm was so close Kahlan could hear it in every syllable. "Yes, I do."
Again, the whistle of Triana's hand cutting the air and hitting Cara's backside, and again Cara's wails of pleasure, not pain. Kahlan could just picture it, Cara's tanned flesh made even more tanned, her body absorbing each blow and rocking with lust, Cara's face smiling through every drop of pain.
Then it stopped. Kahlan strained her ears to pierce the sudden silence. Very faintly, she heard Cara whisper "Yes, yes." And she thought she knew Cara well enough to know the desire was real.
Beneath it, there was a wet, fleshy sound. Kahlan knew it. The sound of lonely nights and needed pleasures and her hand pressed between her thighs, thinking of Richard, a Holonet star, a childhood crush, anyone but Cara. And as soon as she heard it, Kahlan could hear nothing else but Triana's fingers running through Cara's dripping cunt.
Cara keened one last time, a noise of pain and fulfillment, and lapsed into silence. Triana sighed triumphantly.
"Now you're a good girl, such a good girl," Triana breathed in sympathetic orgasm. One of those people who couldn't get off unless someone else was made to bring them off.
Kahlan took a moment to regain her breath, then rushed in, clocking Triana in the head with a hydrospanner. Cara got out of her lap, letting her slump to the floor. From the waist down, her leathers were gone, the contrast between skin and armor making her look incredibly soft. Kahlan threw her pants at her.
***
For the rest of the trip, Cara wore her pants slung low at the hip, so Kahlan could see the upper reaches of the red Triana had left.
***
They ate together. Cara cooked. They read mission briefings together, Cara over Kahlan's shoulder, body heat like a hand at the small of her back. The urge to spar would strike them at the same time, in the middle of the night, and their bodies would strain against each other for what could've been hours, seeking an advantage. Both would sleep soundly afterward.
They never spoke if they could help it.
Title: The Side of Dark And Ecstasy
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,875
Characters/Pairings: Cara/Kahlan, Cara/Garen, Cara/Triana
Previous: The Side of Light And Wisdom
Next: Part 2
Summary: Kahlan is a Rebel officer and Cara is an Imperial defector who's going to get away with her crimes. Until Kahlan thinks of a mission for her to go on. A mission that'll be punishment enough by itself.
Kahlan had given her life to the Rebellion. She had seen unspeakable things and would do worse to bring down the Empire. She had allied herself with Hutts and pirates. She had walked so close to the Dark Side she could feel its shadow over her very soul. And she would do it all over again and more besides to save one innocent life. And Cara knew it, damn her. That's why she'd chosen Kahlan. She'd known there was a ruthlessness in the Confessor that made them twins. So even though Kahlan hated the Mord'Sith, even though there was a time when she'd give anything to see her brought to justice, now Cara was too valuable to the Rebel Alliance for her secrets to come out. If any Rebel but Kahlan knew Cara wasn't really confessed, only pretending to cover her mercenary defection, Cara would be sent back to the Imperials sans space suit.
So Cara escaped justice once more, this time with Kahlan's help. She convinced Richard that Cara being Mord'Sith was just propaganda. When she ordered her to, Cara cut her arm from shoulder to wrist. Richard didn't understand Cara (didn't understand Kahlan). He thought no one would do that to themselves if they had a choice.
Kahlan helped Cara stitch herself up, but wouldn't spare her bacta gel. She could do with a scar.
***
Kahlan thought she could set aside their differences if it weren't for the sex. It'd been good, which was bad enough. But Cara had also manipulated her, insinuated and shepherded and plied, until Kahlan had taken advantage of someone she'd thought was confessed. Cara had brought her closer to the Dark Side then she'd ever strayed and it hadn't been for the greater good, it'd been for sweat and lips and clit.
Words like 'traitor' and 'slut' ran through Kahlan's mind when she heard her own name. Cara made them louder, maintaining the charade of being Kahlan's slave when they were alone, wearing clothes that offered herself to Kahlan without words.
Revenge was not of the Light Side. And Kahlan was a good person. It wasn't her place to punish Cara for her deeds. But some missions required more sacrifice than others and how could she ask her friends to make those sacrifices when Cara was right there, needing to make amends?
Governor Garen of Tantiss III favored pleasure slaves. It was a common vice for Imperial officers, but her tastes weren't. A freed slave gave them chapter and verse, Cara listening on like it was a musical symphony. When Kahlan told her she would have to do the same, Cara met Kahlan's gaze with a challenge in her eyes. Go through with it. Show me who's boss.
When Cara let Kahlan and her team in through the waterworks, her skin was flushed like she'd just been in battle, and she had a grin to match. There wasn't a trace of blood on her.
After, guilt settled on Kahlan like the Force itself was choking her. It wasn't that she thought Cara cared about being used—that would be humanizing her—but Kahlan wanted her to care. She wanted her to hurt, or maybe even to have a soul under all that leather, something that meant being with Kahlan was more than just another play in the Sith's endless infighting.
They first talked about it in hyperspace, one of those long voyages that could make a Jedi Master wish ships were still equipped for cryosleep. They were lounging about the YT-2000's cockpit in shared solace, one of those interims that seemed to inoculate them against the war. Cara was wearing her usual nothing, a sheath of Ithorian silk that caressed her skin as it flaunted it. Cara was surprisingly decadent outside of her duties. Kahlan wondered if it had anything to do with her.
"How was it?" Kahlan asked.
"Don't be oblique," Cara chided.
"Garen," Kahlan said.
Cara smiled to herself. "She berated me as I stripped. Called me whore, slut, trash. It was… nostalgic." Kahlan remembered how she'd heard Mord'Sith were trained. Only females could be that brand of Dark Jedi. "But it got annoying, how she thought words were a substitute for bodies. I shut her up. You want to know how."
It wasn't a question. Kahlan nodded anyway. Stiffly, like she was being dignified.
"I kissed her. Most people see it as such an intimate, loving gesture. They're doing it wrong. I cut right down to the core of her, making her body mine, even if she didn't know it. She ravished me, that's the term your holobooks would use. Flung me down and devoured me from the cunt up, but that's exactly what I wanted. I played her slut, moaning and panting like she was driving me wild. It wasn't much of an act. I just abandoned my control."
Kahlan should've told Cara to stop. It was disgusting, the things she was talking about, turning love into an act of hate, lovemaking into a paean to the Dark Side. But Cara went on, her voice low and breathy and yet somehow neutral even as she put across every detail of every obscenity (so much more sexual because she wasn't trying to be sexual, it was like she was blasé about it, even though Kahlan could see the breath quickening in her breast). And Kahlan listened. She heard every word.
***
Slip-ups were what Kahlan hated worse about the war. She could take setbacks and defeats and pyrrhic victories, but she hated when random happenstance delivered her into the hands of some bounty hunter. Triana Grisk had captured them because the sithspit motivator on their ship, the Stone of Tears, had broken down. Kahlan had just serviced it two hyper-jumps ago and there they were, in the brig of a modified Gymsnor-2 freighter, watching the bitch negotiate their sale to Black Sun. If Kahlan had known rebuffing Prince Xizor's advances would land her in so much trouble, she might not have rebuffed them with her knee.
Kahlan worked her throat hoarse, arguing with Triana about how she was derailing the fate of the galaxy for the sake of money, but the woman wouldn't be moved. Finally, Cara got tired of waiting and pulled her aside.
"You don't trust me," Cara said. "That's good. A mark of intelligence. But I'm going to need you to trust me. I'll distract Triana. You need to find a way out of here and take your shot. Don't worry about me betraying you. I'll back you. I swear it."
"The bonding thing only works if you can keep Triana occupied. How will you do that?"
Cara loosed two fasteners from the bodice of her outfit. The way she moved was different as she went to the bars of their cell. Kahlan couldn't keep her eyes from Cara's well-shaped ass.
"Excuse me," Cara said, leaning against the cell door. "I'm not with her. Surely, you could just drop me off at the next space port?"
Triana smiled deviously at her. "Surely, the Empire has a few credits to spare for the capture of the lowliest Rebel."
Cara pulled aside one flap of her opened tunic. Kahlan could feel Triana's gaze coursing down Cara's décolletage.
"I'm sure we could work something out that's much more profitable for you."
***
After Triana took Cara out of the cell, Kahlan had an easy time picking the lock. Triana had taken Cara to a secluded corner of the ship—apparently exhibitionism wasn't one of her sins. In short order, Kahlan found a weapon and crept to the closed door behind which Cara was surely "distracting" Triana thoroughly.
Kahlan paused, literally with her finger on the opener. Through the door, she could hear noises with a certifiably organic tinge. There was a rapid-fire report of flesh against flesh, Cara grunting harder than she ever had when she and Kahlan sparred, and Triana's husky breathing, pitching higher with each passing moment.
Kahlan could've walked right in and ended it, but she didn't. She just didn't.
"Apologize!" Triana barked.
“Yes, I'm sorry,” Cara gasped, her voice stricken with pain. “Sorry for being naughty, sorry I can't be as good as you. You’re the law, I know that now, and I’ll mind you. Please stop spanking me. It hurts. It hurts so much…"
Only Kahlan would detect the veneer of sarcasm, the over-the-top way Cara indulged her captor's fetish. She'd heard it before, the way Cara wrapped things around to make it clear she enjoyed both the act and the deception, which made her the one with the most pleasure to gain.
"I think you're only saying that to get out of your punishment," Triana sneered. "I think you're still a bad girl."
Cara whimpered. When she spoke, her voice was so sultry, so obviously in control that Kahlan wondered how Triana could ever believe it. "I am. I am still a bad girl. You need to make me a good girl. You need to spank me until I'm a good girl."
"Yes," Triana drawled. Her orgasm was so close Kahlan could hear it in every syllable. "Yes, I do."
Again, the whistle of Triana's hand cutting the air and hitting Cara's backside, and again Cara's wails of pleasure, not pain. Kahlan could just picture it, Cara's tanned flesh made even more tanned, her body absorbing each blow and rocking with lust, Cara's face smiling through every drop of pain.
Then it stopped. Kahlan strained her ears to pierce the sudden silence. Very faintly, she heard Cara whisper "Yes, yes." And she thought she knew Cara well enough to know the desire was real.
Beneath it, there was a wet, fleshy sound. Kahlan knew it. The sound of lonely nights and needed pleasures and her hand pressed between her thighs, thinking of Richard, a Holonet star, a childhood crush, anyone but Cara. And as soon as she heard it, Kahlan could hear nothing else but Triana's fingers running through Cara's dripping cunt.
Cara keened one last time, a noise of pain and fulfillment, and lapsed into silence. Triana sighed triumphantly.
"Now you're a good girl, such a good girl," Triana breathed in sympathetic orgasm. One of those people who couldn't get off unless someone else was made to bring them off.
Kahlan took a moment to regain her breath, then rushed in, clocking Triana in the head with a hydrospanner. Cara got out of her lap, letting her slump to the floor. From the waist down, her leathers were gone, the contrast between skin and armor making her look incredibly soft. Kahlan threw her pants at her.
***
For the rest of the trip, Cara wore her pants slung low at the hip, so Kahlan could see the upper reaches of the red Triana had left.
***
They ate together. Cara cooked. They read mission briefings together, Cara over Kahlan's shoulder, body heat like a hand at the small of her back. The urge to spar would strike them at the same time, in the middle of the night, and their bodies would strain against each other for what could've been hours, seeking an advantage. Both would sleep soundly afterward.
They never spoke if they could help it.
