THE ACOLYTE — Choice (S01E07) ››› Dean-Charles Chapman as Padawan Torbin

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THE ACOLYTE — Choice (S01E07) ››› Dean-Charles Chapman as Padawan Torbin
THE ACOLYTE (2024–) 1.07: CHOICE
Dean-Charles Chapman as Master Torbin (requested by anon) THE ACOLYTE, Episode 7 | "Choice"
more acolyte x text posts
The Acolyte characters + text posts
“CONSUME ME ” pt. 2
PAIRING : black!fem!Reader x Qimir/The Stranger
SYNOPSIS : When the lines between desire, fear and rage blur, all that is left is an urge to consume.
CONTENT WARNINGS : angst, complex relationships that we won't dig too deep into (I'm looking at you Yord and Sol), murder, violence and most importantly smut, which includes: biting, riding, force choking and overstimulation. This part is also shit read at your own risk.
PARTS : ONE, TWO, THREE
YOU THINK THE THING THAT TERRIFIED YOU THE MOST ABOUT THE SITUATION WAS HOW EASILY YOU MADE UP YOUR MIND. You had always planned to do this. Always knew that you would fall of the precipice that you had violently crawled your way onto. There was no other way for this to go—for this to end. The only issue was that if you went through with it, you would have nothing left. Osha wouldn’t embrace you, Mae had been dead and you had nowhere to go, no means of escape.
But now you did.
Qimir not only gave you an opportunity, but a light at the end of the tunnel.
Your heart twisted at the thought of it.
His reasoning was clear—at least a part of it was, he wanted you. All of you. Not these stolen moments in the middle of the night.
The worst part is that you craved it too.
You licked your lips, as you took a sip of your water, could still taste him there, you could still feel his hands on your thighs and it dangerously, terrifyingly strengthened your resolve.
You wanted more than that too.
It suddenly made so much sense why the Jedi discouraged such connections. Because people were selfish. You get a taste of what it is to be alive and suddenly peace becomes a lie. Because how can you not choose that feeling over pretending it doesn’t exist?
“Sisi, you there?”
A tap between your brows blinks you out of your stupor and you turn to look at Osha who is watching you with a concerned furrow in her brow. The look causes you to falter in your stride, your stomach twisting into an unpleasant knot.
“Sorry,” you smile apologetically as you hold your canteen to your chest, fiddling with the lid. “Lost in thought.”
“I know,” Osha whispers quietly as your shoulders bump together with how closely the two of you wedge together in the hallway. “I keep thinking about her too.”
Mae.
You flinch at the reminder, “I—I d—.”
“I know,” Osha whispers, looking at you in pity. “I’ve been trying so hard—going through it again and again in mind—we should have turned back.”
Your breath comes out shakily as you come to a slow stop, Osha follows turning to face you. “I keep thinking about that day,” you whisper, swallowing thickly as your fingers continue to fiddle with the lid of your canteen. “I, uh, I walk through everything that happened—try and rewrite the story. What could have been done differently? What choices could I have made to keep Mae with us,” you look down at your shoes. “I try and try—,” you shook your head. “I try and—nothing changes.”
Something agonizing swells in your throat. “Nothing ever changes Osha—it only gets worse.We still lose everything—how is that fair?” You question, you move to quickly wipe away an escaped tear before anyone can see it. “It’s not fair.”
Osha seems to deflate, “I know.”
“It just—it just makes me so angry,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper.
“It makes me angry too,” Osha mutters in return as she grabs your hand in hers.
“Maybe that’s why you’re failing to be a Jedi.”
You and Osha turn and much to your dismay you find Yord looking at the two of you in disapproval. Mostly you by the glare he keeps sending your way. You tense up and avert your gaze, swallowing thickly as you do.
“Shut up, Yord!” Osha hisses in a way so out of character it cause you to look back in shock.
Your sister steps in front of you protectively.
Yord blinks at her, “Excuse me—.”
“This isn’t any of your business,” Osha snapped defensively. It wasn't like her to get defensive like that but perhaps the impromptu resurrection of Mae had shaken her enough to make her falter.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Yord retorts. “It is my business as specified by the council. It is also my business if a fellow Jedi,” he glares at you, “is loosing herself to emotion.”
You bristle, “I am not loosing myself to anything,” you sneer. “Excuse me for having normal emotions. I did not realize that was a crime, Yord," you huff.
"Not a crime, but allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement--."
"What judgement?" You can't help but snap. "I haven't made a choice that you can say I have made on the basis of my emotions--you're just inserting yourself where you are not needed."
"But it might," Yord stresses and you scowl. He inhales deeply before stepping forward placatingly, you have to fight with your entire being not to let your lips curl up in disgust. "I understand that you have been through a lot--too much."
"Stop-stop it," your voice is foreign to your own ears. Something odd and scorching settles low in your stomach. "You do not understand--and you never will. Your compassion is misplaced."
You go to walk around him but he grips your arm, stopping you.
"I am trying to help you," Yord hisses in your ear, you try to shake him off but his grip is unrelenting. He had always been like that--unrelenting, overbearing--there used to be a time you found it endearing. "I wish to see you succeed," he stresses, "We were supposed to be knighted together, but you still cling to the past, let that darkness blind you."
"I am not blinded."
"Maybe you see it that way, Sisi," he says lightly the pointer finger of his free hand pointing at the mark sat between your brows. You recoil, breath hitching painfully.
"Don't--!" Your voice pitches dangerously, as you jerk roughly in his hold, it takes everything in you not to react the way he wants you to, especially with his eyes boring into you, "Don't you ever call me that again."
Your gums itch, you want to sink your teeth into him, rip him apart--swallow him whole...consume him.
"You're angry."
"Because you're a nuisance, Yord," you say lightly, mockingly. "I am hardly the only one in the order who thinks that that way."
His own anger flares as he tugs you closer.
"Yord," Osha's tries but she is ignored.
"Need I remind you to show a little respect?"
"To whom?" You make a show of looking around before looking him up and down, "You? Don't make me laugh,' you spit.
His grip tightens, you relish in the pain with a giggle.
"I outrank you, I am your superior, Padawan."
Your smile is bright as you laugh outright, "Oh, my dear Yord. Let's not forget who is the one who out ranks here," you whisper between giggles, your cheeks flushed with that searing heat. "I am better than you--I could be a Padawan for all my life and you can climb ranks as deftly as you want--I will always , and mean always be the better of the two of us. The Council knows it, you know it, I know it."
For a moment all the two of you do is stare at each other, come to understand the strangeness in the other.
"What s going on here?" Master Sol's voice is low and sweet as he happens upon the three of you. His own Padawan, Jecki following closely behind.
You pry Yord's hand from your arm, "Nothing," you say brightly. "Just catching up with each other, right Osha? Yord?"
Osha grabs your hand while Yord draws himself up with a shallow nod. "Yes, just catching up with an old friend."
"I see--lunch will be ready soon," Master Sol says conversationally, no doubt sensing the tension but choosing not to acknowledge it. "Jecki and I were headed to the lunch hall, would you like to join us."
"Of course," you and Osha chorus much to Master Sol's delight.
Yord's frown deepens.
~~~~~~
Your Master watches as you settle in front of her to meditate. Your Master, Master Cara hasn't been your Master for long. You had been put under her supervision six years ago when your sister left the Jedi Order. There were whispers that you may have followed if given the chance. The council according to Master Sol didn't want to loose you but they were weary of you. So they sent you far away, put you under the tutelage of a strict Master, kept you from progressing as quickly as you should have. Progressing meant freedom--freedom was the last thing they wanted to give you.
"You need to learn to listen," Master Cara says sharply as she inhales deeply. Her pink skin shimmers in the artificial light. Her black eyes are closed, and her blue hair is hidden under the hood of her robes.
"I listen, Master," You say pushing your simmering anger to the very back of your mind, away from her reach. You cross your legs and rest your arms comfortably on your thighs, hands on your knees.
Master Cara frowns, "You do not. Not sincerely. You're too combative."
You sigh, "I am not--."
"There is the combativeness."
The sigh that escapes you is louder and more annoyed than you mean it to be. She opens her eyes to glare at you and you look away.
"Do you know why I make you meditate as much as I do, Padawan?"
You frown, "No."
"It is the only time I can ever have you at peace," she says quietly, softly. "Peace evades you like a plague any other time. It skirts around you in whirlwind. Like it's trying to escape your hold. You're only at peace when you sit, when you let the force run through you--the only other time is when you disappear into the woods for whatever reason."
"I like trees," you admit with a shrug, it is true, trees remind you of home. Although that's not where you disappear to. You merely walk into the woods as a diversion before you slip back into town to see Qimir.
"Trees might not always be there to bring you peace--but the force will," Master Cara says. "Meditate."
You straighten your posture, take a deep breath and shut your eyes.
The force felt different for every living creature. The force manifested differently for everyone as well.
For you the force always felt like a cool flowing creak as it swept through you. You always simply laid within it, let it coax you into safety. You let it soothe your deepest aches and calm your loudest worries. When you wielded the force it was constantly spinning correct that both pushed away and pulled inside.
There is a moment where peace finds you, nestles into you, you relish in it. Just for a moment it is there, but then you feel it again. That coldness. It crawls up your spine, wraps violently around your neck and smothers you.
Water comes in on all sides, it's ice cold and terribly still and vast, it consumes you, entombs you.
"Little Jedi has an urge to learn how to swim," that voice mocks you from all sides. Seeps into you like anesthetic. "Shall I teach you?"
You claw for air, beg for light.
"Don't fear the water, little Jedi. It is what you want--what you crave. It is a part of you."
You thrash, you scream--you beg.
"Swim."
You struggle a moment more before stilling, your body sinks like stone, the word around you blurs, grows muffled. There is a moment of clarity--or peace. You push your fear to the back of your mind. You inhale, water burns your lungs and nose. You exhale. Your body stops sinking. You inhale, the burn is pleasant, you welcome the agony. You exhale, your body begins to float. The water warms, wraps around you like a summer breeze. Flows peacefully around you. You break the surface with a soft inhale.
Your eyes open, It looms over you, it's crookedly large grin seems to grow larger.
"Good girl," It coos down at you, It's hand is rough and familiar as it caresses your cheeks, your nose, lips, you collar bones, you moan breathlessly. "You and I shall have such fun together. Complete your task, before your window closes."
He fades away like condensation on a mirror.
The image that replaces him is familiar.
There is something going on around you, you can feel it in the way the sea of purple ripples violently around you, you can taste the paranoia--the anger. It is Mama Aniseya that stands out among them, regal, powerful, her attention is fixed elsewhere and you know why. Infront of you stands a young master Torbin, his Padawan braid still pulled over his shoulder. That's when you taste it on your tongue--the fear. it radiates off the boy and much like you Mama Aniseya senses it, feasts on it. You can feel his fear she grips him, seeps into his mind, you feel the thread wind around him.
His eyes go black, his knees give out.
This is Power, my Little Moon, your mother's voice whispers in your mind. Taste it. Consume it.
Your eyes open with a strangled gasp. You are exactly where you began, sitting on the floor in the training room--only Master Cara is no longer in front of you. Osha lingers in front of you, jerking at your sudden awareness.
"Oh, Kriff!" She exclaims, pressing her hand to her chest. "Don't scare me like that."
You blink at her, smacking your dry lips with a grimace. "Don't watch me like a weirdo," you quip, while stretching out the stiff knots in your neck.
She scowls in offence, "I was just checking on you," she defends, as you stretch out your legs. "The only weirdo here is you. Who in their right mind meditates for almost two days straight--you need to eat. come on."
~~~~
It is an attempted break in that your gives you your opportunity. The temple is in painful disarray as Jedi move in hopes to apprehend your sister or who ever was smug enough to try with the temple on high alert.
Osha forces herself upon the team that move to patrol the city while you stay behind with the few who don't have the thirst for potential confrontation. It is in the frantic shuffle that you slip into Master Torbin's room. Your feet are quick and silent as you look around.
He is as he's always been, silently hovering, eyes shut in meditation. For a moment all you can do is stare at him. He looks nothing like the boy he once was, if you didn't know any better you would have thought that he was an entirely different person but you remember how he feels, how his fear tastes.
Your gums itch for relief.
Footsteps send you into hiding, you leap upwards with the force to propel you, slipping unseen into a dark alcove. You watch one of your fellow temple dwellers look around the room before slipping out. You wait for several minutes, extending your senses.
There is a painful stillness that sends a thrill up your back. You leap down and look at him once again. You know he knows you're there. How can he not?
You reach forward as if to touch him but your hand is met with a solid resistance. You hum--this was probably why Mae failed before. How does one kill a meditating master wearing the force as if it is an armoured blanket? Luckily for you, your hastily put together plan excludes the use of violence.
This is power, My Little Moon.
You shut your eyes, and feel for the force around you. It's different, colder, deeper, yet it still flows gently around you, you direct the flow open you mind, press it against Master Torbin's consciousness.
He resists you, pushes back.
"I know what you want," you breathe quietly. "You took the Barash Vow in hopes of finding it but you and I both know that will never be the case."
He is staunch in his resistance of you.
"There is no peace in silence," you whisper. "Silence won't give you the forgiveness you seek. Only I can."
He wavers.
"Only I can give you what you want--absolution. You will not find it anywhere else. You can only receive it right here, right now from me...let me show you."
He sighs. It is the sound of relief, it slithers through your sudden bond, echoes around the darkness of his mind. It lingers in the crack in his resolve. You taste the guilt, the shame, the anger, you let it sit on your pallet, savour it on your tongue.
And then you consume him, rushing at him from all sides, smothering him in your rage, your pain, your grief. You consume him whole, let the thought of him sink into the ever growing pit in your gut.
Just as soon as the connection is made it is severed, your eyes open and you catch his body before hits the ground with the force. For a moment he lays limply suspended in the air. You look down at him with a thundering heart. With a shaky exhale you silently reach for his belt and unclip the long neglected lightsaber, silently tucking it behind your back under your cloak.
As you lower Master Torbin softly to the ground, you come to a terrifying conclusion.
You're still hungry.
~~~~
The blame falls upon Mae, there was no other logical conclusion. She got the jump on them, evaded them. Perhaps she had never left the temple as everyone went on a chase that had never even begun. No one knows how she did it all they know is that she had and she had stolen his lightsaber too.
A part of you felt guilty that Mae was getting the heat for what was happening but you're selfishly glad it is not you, besides she is nowhere to be found to take the heat--she'd forgive you eventually. They would found out eventually but you will cling to their ignorance for now.
Osha lays beside you as she sleeps. For a moment, you envy her but you don't blame her, she had been exhausted for days now, her rest was deserved.
It takes everything in you not to start fidgeting, you try to rest, try to sleep but both evade you.
You have a craving something other than rest.
You stand softly from bed, using a pillow to replace the warm that you took with you. You look at Osha as she shifts closer and clings to it. You quickly find your robes, grabbing a dark cloak to easier blend into the night. You look back at Osha's sleeping form before you reach under your bed grab the sack that held Master Torbin's lightsaber, strategically buried under an extra change of clothes and a sack of coins.
You grabbed your own lightsaber on your way out, clipping it to your belt. You shrug your cloak onto you shoulders as you walk down the hall, hiding your bav under your cloak.
When you're ten paces from the door a voice rings out, "Where are you going?"
You sigh, "Outside, clearly,' you grunt as you turn on your heal giving Yord a halfhearted shrug filled with attitude that you know he does not appreciate.
"At this time? After what just happened?"
"I'm restless, I didn't feel like sleeping in a place someone was murdered in," you hum before pointing towards the exit, "So I'm just gonna-."
"Its dangerous, you shouldn't be alone."
"Mae is my sister," you mutter as you continue on your way.
"Still."
"Oh my goodness," you groan before turning back around, "Its just a walk! Come with me then if you're so paranoid."
Yord frowns, "What?"
"Come with me or shut up," you snap, "Either way I'm walking out that door."
You stare at each other for a long moment before you turn on your heal and slip to the door. You don't have to look back to know that Yord is following silently behind you.
"You don't seem saddened by Master Torbin's death?"
"I am a Jedi," you quip as you look at the stalls in the night market. “I mustn’t let my emotions blind me,” you mock as you look over a selection of beautifully embroidered scarves and shawls. You pick up a shawl in a deep purple, embroidered in gold.
“That doesn’t mean you should lack compassion,” Yord says.
You hum as you turn and hold the cloth up to Yord’s face. You had similar complexions and there was no mirror for you to tell. He gives you an annoyed look. “I give compassion to those who deserve it,” you say as you consider the shawl. “What do you think? I love the colour but perhaps I’m biased, purple has always held significance to me,” you mutter. “What about you, did you have a favourite colour? Or is that too beneath a Jedi knight?”
“You can’t have it,” Yord quips as he snatched the shawl away from you and placed back in the stall, you huff at him. “And who are to decide who is worthy of compassion?”
You roll your eyes as you continue browsing, “I’m going to say , yellow is still your favourite colour,” you say lightly as you pick up a yellow scarf with green embroidery up to his face. You hum, “Yes, it does wonders for your eyes, I’ll buy it for you—.”
“No,” he snatches it from your hand again and puts it back and you grumble in annoyance.
You grunt as you turn to continue walking, “You know, I’ve known Master Torbin long before he took the Barash Vow?” You say as you walk side by side.
Yord looks at you suddenly, “W-what?”
“He was still a Padawan when I met him, he was Master Indara’s Padawan,” you say as you look at a stall with jewellery.
“The one Mae killed.”
You nod, “I always liked Indara,” you admit. “She was kind, patient, compassionate, impartial—a true Jedi, a true leader. I was saddened to hear of her passing,” you look at Yord as you speak. “Master Torbin could never live up to her.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
You nod slowly as you move onto a food vendor selling meat on sticks,“You’re right, it’s not—but you don’t know what I do—two please.”
“And what is that?” Yord questions as he reluctantly takes the stick you offer him. You pay the vendor and continue walking.
“There is a reason Mae targeted them, four Jedi came to our home and all they left was destruction,” you explained. “Fear clouds choices.“
“Mae was the one—.”
“You know nothing, Yord,” you snip with a scowl.
“Osha said—.”
“Osha told you what she saw,” you tell him. “You know what I saw?” You ask as you come to a stop. “A fire didn’t kill our family—lightsabers did.“
“But—.”
“As Master Sol dragged me and Osha away from our dead family, I saw my mother dead on the ground—she had been stabbed by a lightsaber—not burned by a fire or bludgeoned by debris.”
Yord slumps as he stares at you, “If I were to point fingers I would point at the trigger happy Padawan, but then again it doesn’t matter what I think. Only what the council does. So no my compassion is hard to come by.”
“What about Master Sol and Master Indara?” Yord questions and you frown.
“What about them?”
“They were there too,” Yord says quietly, “they could have easily been responsible.”
You stop walking and look at him, “I know that.”
“Then why does Thorbin get your scorn while Sol and Indara have your admiration?”
You tilt your head, “It’s complicated,” you confess. “The heart works in mysterious ways. Ways I don’t feel like speaking about.”
Yord is quiet for a long moment as you continue to browse through the stalls. “You keep a lot of things to yourself,” he mutters and you stop.
“Well, it’s the way of the Jedi,” you quip.
Yord sighs, “Perhaps, but a burden shared is a burden halved—we used to be friends, right?"
For moment, you feel something painful twist inside of you. It was true. There was a time you and Yord were as thick as thieves. He had in some twisted way filled in the gap in your heart Mae had left behind. Then Osha all but abandoned you—Yord had tried to be there, tried to understand your pain, but he was growing to attached, you both were. You had to separated. Yord turned out fine, you on the other hand began to wilt.
You never did well on your own.
A moon needs a star to shine.
You step forward and reach out, your press a hand to his cheek and his eyes flutter closed.
“I’m really sorry, Yord.”
You would never be friends again.
You feel a sudden overwhelming sadness.
Yord flinches and pulls away from you, your hand drops to your side. He says nothing as he turns on his heel and leaves you behind, his stick of meat falling to the ground.
You inhale deeply and shut your eyes, you let your pain fall into the abyss in your belly. You focus on your hunger. You left the temple for a reason, hadn’t you?
~~~~
It’s muscle memory, you decide. It’s ingrained into your body, the way to Qimir. You’re sure your body had a built in compass. You’re convinced that you could find him anywhere if given the chance.
The lights in the apothecary are on and the door is open, it’s not often that he has his door open late. You know he’s the only one inside as you slip into the shop. Qimir always felt like a point of constant cold to you. Like pack of ice pressed against a swelling bruise. It felt relieving, soothing.
You shut the door behind you, locking it quietly. Qimir looks up from his task immediately, expression brightening at the sight of you. “You’ve been gone too long,” he says in greeting as you shed your cloak and bag, placing them on stool by the door.
“Two days—.”
“Three days,” he corrects and you roll your eyes as you silently make your way around the counter.
“I was with you in the morning.”
“Does not count,” he retorts petulantly, cocking his head as you draw ever closer. You can’t keep your eyes from hungrily roaming his every feature. “I like occupying your nights.”
That hunger in your stomach rises to the surface, your gums begin to ache, you want to sink your teeth into him. Your heart bounds dangerously.
“Mhmm,” you crowd him, pushing him back. He lets you corner him against the wall, your hands on his waist. “Did you miss me?” You question in delight, watching as he shivers at the tone in your voice. You relish in the heat of him, the smell of him. Your mouth all but waters.
“If I say yes?”
You say nothing as you grip the collar of his shirt and yank him down. Your lips hungrily attack his and he moans in both surprise and approval. You kiss him desperately. You kiss him like you need him to breathe—no—to survive. You coax his lips apart, tongue pressing into his. You moan at the taste of him. He tasted of cherries and sea salt. You savour him, let him linger on your pallet, give into the urge to consume him.
Your lips part and he gasps for breath. You press open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck, indulging in the taste of his skin. Your hands tug desperately at his clothes, eagerly looking for an opening to touch his skin. Your cold hands run up his sides, nails scratching at the skin of his waist.
Qimir moans breathlessly and you swell with hunger. You bite down on the junction of his shoulder and neck hard enough to leave a mark. Qimir all but whimpers, his knees weakening. He leans his entire body weight back against the wall and you tip forward on your toes as you soothe the bite with your tongue. You go to mark him again but something pulls your attention away, you turn your head to the shuttered window but don’t have time to contemplate.
Qimir’s hand curls into your hair, grabbing a fist full he pulls your mouth back up to meet his. Your hands resume to roam as your lips meet again and again and again until you start to feel dizzy.
Qimir gasps as you palm him through his pants, hips bucking into your hand. He nips at your lips and your thighs clench, the ache building between them slowly becoming unbearable.
You slip your hand past his waistband, and you grip him firmly in your hand. Stroking his erection slowly and firmly. You sweep your thumb over the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum along his sensitive flesh. Qimir’s thigh clenched, his breath escaping him in ragged gasps as he pulls his lips from yours, his dark eyes hooded.
You pull you hand away, ignoring his groan of protest. You bring you hand up to your mouth and spit on your fingers before slipping your hand back into his trousers. You pump his cock once, twice before pressing your thumb against a spot just below the weeping head that causes Qimir’s hips to jerk into your hand.
“Oh, fuck!”
His legs tremble and he slowly sinks to the ground, sliding down the wall, you follow refusing to part from him as you take in the way his face contorts in pleasure, straddling his thighs.
You yanked at the waistband of his trousers, releasing his erection from its confines. You stroke him faster, and relish in the broken moans that fall from his swollen lips. “Do you like that?” You whisper in question and he hums, pressing his face into your neck. You twist your wrist as your grip reaches the head of his cock.
“Please, I need—.”
You don’t need him to finish as you shrug out of your robe, letting it pool around your waist. You move to stand to pull off your undergarments but Qimir hands finds the flimsy fabric at your crotch and rips it apart as if it nothing. A wave of intense need washes through you at the display.
You gasp as his fingers sweep through your soaking slit. He groans in approval, rubbing a finger against you swollen clit. You realese a choked whine at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation. It’s not enough and Qimir knows that.
He yanks you closer, swollen lips slotting over yours in a sloppy kiss. It’s too wet, there’s too much tongue, too much teeth—you can’t find it in yourself to care. His hand meets the back of your thigh and you sit up on your knees at the prompting. He wastes no time in lining his weeping cock up to your entrance.
You sink down slowly, breath hitching painfully in your throat at the burning stretch. Qimir groaned deeply, hands gripping your waist.
You begin to rock desperately, gasping and moaning at the burning pleasure that slowly starts to build inside you. Qimir grips your hips tightly and changes your hastily set rhythm, bouncing you up and down his cock and your thoughts fly out the window.
For a moment there was nothing but your breathless moans, Qimir’s heavy breathing and the embarrassingly wet sound of him slipping in and out of you.
Qimir drags his teeth down the side of your neck, a sharp stab of pleasure wracks through your body and you tremble, releasing a little squeak. Heat begins to threateningly pool in your stomach. You were so close, but you were getting tired. Your pace falters and your thighs tremble and burn at the exertion. You choke on a sob of frustration, no, no, no.
Sensing your frustration, Qimir coos soothingly and wraps his arms around you, forcing you up onto your knees he presses back against the wall for leverage and thrusts up into you, his pace quick and hard. You wail and press your hand against the wall by his head for balance.
“Yes! Yes!” You chant, the heat in your lower belly beginning to over flow. Yes. Yes. You slither your hand down between you, selfishly circling your clit.
“Oh, fuck,” Qimir gasps, feeling your squeezing around him as your release edges dangerously closer.
“D-don’t stop—please,” you beg desperately, press your cheek against his head feeling his hot breath on you collar bones.
His grip on you hips tightens and he pulls you closer, each of his frantic thrusts dragging against that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. It doesn’t take much after that, one last frantic thrust paired with selfish pinch at your swollen clit is all it takes to send you over the edge.
Your body tenses and you squeak, body trembling. You grip Qimir tightly as he continues to thrust into you chasing his own reales while dragging yours on for an almost painfully long time.
You hiccup, shuddering, trying to squirm away but Qimir refuses to let go, refuses to let you escape. Pleasure builds up again, and you sob into his hair. The heat crawls up your spine like a threat and your second orgasm consumes you, encases you, smothers you from all sides.
“Yes, fuc—!”
Qimir choked on a groan as his spills into you, his body tensing and shuddering beneath yours. Continues to rock into you, riding out his own orgasm, stretching it as thin as possible.
You curse swatting at the hands that keep you trapped against him. You’re ready to crawl away and hide but he hugs you to him finally, finally stopping. You slump against him whimpering and shuddering, hiding your flushed face in his chest.
“You’re so mean,” you whisper after a moment of content silence.
Qimir chuckles pressing a kiss to your temple, “And you’re too selfish.”
You sit up and he winces as you shift with him still inside of you. You wrap your arms around his neck and press a soft kiss to his swollen lips, before laying your head on his shoulder, silently playing with his hair.
He rubs his hands over your back, “This is a new development—not that I’m complaining,” he starts quietly. “What brought this on?”
You were never one to initiate sex. For as long as the two of you have been together Qimir was the one who often initiated and you were always happy to follow along.
You feel a thrill crawl up your back and you sit up once again grinning brightly. He raises his brows at your expression.
You thrust a hand out calling for your bag. It draws to you quickly and you eagerly dig for Master Torbin’s lightsaber. You show it off proudly, before turning it on. The gold yellow glow reflecting in his dark eyes.
“Wh—.”
“I did it,” you say brightly feeling that hunger in you rise to the surface once again. “I killed him without a weapon.”
He blinks at you stunned, “How?“
You hesitate and cock your head, you press your hand to the back of his neck, drawing him close to you. “I…I consumed him,” you whisper looking deeply into Qimir’s bottomless eyes. Your grip on the lightsaber tightens and you bring it dangerously close to your faces, watching how the darkness in Qimir’s eyes consumes the bright light.
You caress the side of his neck with your thumb, listening to his increasingly ragged breathing. You feel him twitch inside you and tremble at the growing hunger in his eyes.
“I offered him absolution,” you whispered, “and swallowed him whole.”
Qimir’s lips are on yours, he kisses you so hard it hurts. Everything about him seems to grow ten times as vivid. He becomes overwhelming—he is overwhelmingly dark and hungry. He kisses you like he’s trying to consume you whole—entomb you inside of him.
Master Torbin’s lightsaber clatters to the floor as suddenly flips the two of you over. Your back hits the floor so hard it aches, the breath leaving your lungs in a single puff that Qimir selfishly breathes in as his own. His hands skim up your body ripping your your robe open before tearing your camisole off of your body. All your left in is a pair of torn underwear that he pulls down your leg and discards somewhere in the shop.
He presses deeply into you, refusing to risk separation as he quickly tears off his own baggy robes and shirt and for a moment you’re stunned. You had always known Qimir was stronger than he often let on. All those moments where he manhandled you into submission being a testament to that, but the body he often hid under swaths of clothing was not what you expected. For a moment you think of all the times you had been intimate, how you were always unfairly bare while he remained fully clothed. You knew that it was a power play, nudity was vulnerability and Qimir often refused to vulnerable.
You come to the conclusion that even naked he would never be vulnerable. This was the body of a fighter, not a Hut runner. This was the body of a man who caught all his life. You think of the callouses on his hands, how intimately similar they were to your own.
In that moment you come to the terrible conclusion that you know nothing about the man in front of you.
Your lips part, questions building on your tongue but it is all yanked from you with a hard thrust. All that leaves your mouth is a desperate squeak. Qimir chuckles down at you as he hovers above you, bracing a strong hand on the floor by your head. It’s a dark sound, nothing like the lighthearted giggles you have come to know.
“You’re such a good girl,” he whispers in your ear, working into you without mercy. It’s too much. You cling to him, hands clawing at his back as you sob. “Made for me,” he whispers.
You don’t know if it’s fear or pleasure that swells up inside of you, your desperate for every peace of him. You beg your ribcage to gape open, pray for your innards to consume him into you. It’s not possible, you settle for bringing your knees up, desperate to take him deeper, and lock your ankles at the base of his spine, desperate to keep him closer.
His lips press against yours swallowing your moans and hiccups.
Your orgasm crashes through you so violently you think you have been blasted into a million little pieces.
He doesn’t stop, his pace is relentless. His lips part from yours and press against your ear. He groans deeply, thrusting into you and stilling at the feeling you coming around him. “That’s a good girl,” he whispers. “Can give you me more?”
You shake your head with a whimper and he chuckles again, the deep sound shoots through your ribcage like a well aimed blaster to the chest. You press him into you, turning your head for more open mouthed kisses.
“Yes you can,” he whispers into your mouth, thrusting into you again. He straightens and you sob, hands reaching out for him but he grips both your wrists in one hand while the thumb of his other circles your clit mercilessly.
You thrash, thighs trembling. Too much. Too much.
Another orgasm threatens to drown you, it tries to beat you down tries to take your breath away but you resist, trying to yank your hands away.
Qimir clicks his tongue scoldingly, “Don’t push it, my love,” he coos thrusting into you sharply and you cry out. You watch the way his muscles ripple with each movement, the way his brows furrow with concentration as he angles his hips just right, determined to drag his cock against the overly sensitive spot inside of you again and again and again. His relentless pace causes tears to well in your eyes.
Pleasure comes from all around.
Too much. Too much.
You feel like you have been stretched too thin. Like something inside of you was about to snap. Qimir continuous circling of your clit does nothing to help elevate that threatening feeling.
“Please!” You hiccup.
Please continue.
Please stop.
Please, it’s too much.
Please, it’s not enough.
“Come on, you can do it,” he encourages, rolling your sensitive clit between his rough thumb and pointer finger. That familiar deep cold swelled around you, curled over your limbs, pinned you down, caressed your skin. You shivered and pressed against it. The cold caressed where Qimir couldn’t touch, up your waist and chest and curling delicately around your neck. You whined, squirming as your breath hitched.
For a moment you’re suspended in a feeling of weightlessness. Floating in the cold vastness.
It’s a sudden thing, the way it clamps around your neck, cuts your breath short. You thrash, your mouth gaping open as you desperately try to yank yourself free. Fear crawls up your spine, it brings everything into sharp focus, heightens all your senses and just like that the damn breaks and you drown.
Your back arches off the floor, your thighs tremble, desperately trying to close against his hips. His pace falters but he continues to thrust into you with cruel precision. It feels as though every tight wind in your body snapped at once, and you go nearly lethargic beneath him, tuning in to a pile of mush. Your eyes roll back as the feeling rolls over you so hard you feel as though you would never resurface again, you see It the dark figure with Its metallic grin, you see Qimir’s face flash in the void of its face. The cold releases you and you sob through desperate breaths.
“Fûck, yes!” Qimir curses, his grip on your wrists so hard you feel your bones grinding painfully together. “That’s it—good girl!” He comes with a loud moan, hips stuttering against you. His spills inside you again filling your fluttering walls. He leans down and presses his lips to yours again, rocking his hips, carrying you both through your orgasms until you can’t take it anymore.
His grip loosens around your wrists, and you bang against his chest still trembling with each extra thrust. “N-no more—!”
The Force swells around you and he is pushed back, ripping away from you. You scramble desperately onto your feet as he skids a several feet back, looking at you with flushed cheeks and hungry eyes.
He looked painfully stunning.
Your legs give out from beneath you and you settle for leaning back against the counter. Cupping your hands between your legs as if shielding yourself from his insatiable need. Everything is embarrassingly wet, it’s all over thighs, the floor and it glistens on the skin of his pelvis. You burn with the need to disappear and he grins with triumph.
You lean back gasping for breath.
“Come here,” he beckons you towards him and you shake your head.
“No—keep that thing away from me,” you say trying to catch your breath and he has the audacity to chuckle at you.
You glare at him and search for something to throw at him in retaliation. You settle for your shoe, yanking it off your foot, you launch it at him. He ducks beneath it and leans back grinning in amusement.
“I’m not done with you.”
“Yeah you are.”
“Look at me,” he points at his erection that seems to taunt you threateningly, slick with your release and his. You clench around nothing and feel horror creep up your spine. “This is your fault.”
Your own body betraying both you and itself.
You scowl.
“Come here.”
You shake your head once again but something cold and familiar wraps around your ankle and before you know it you’re being yanked across the space and you’re in his arms around again.
You shriek as he suddenly picks you up, your arms wrap around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. You can feel him dripping out of you, hear the drops splatter against tile as he carries you into the back room. You hide your face in his shoulder.
“W-wait—can I have a break first? You can use my mouth—,” he kisses you quiet as the door shuts behind you.
~~~~
You wake up to that familiar dark cold. Only this time it doesn’t threaten to consume you, it merely settles behind you, moulds into you the same way Qimir moulds his front your back. His fingers trace patterns on your bare hip and your eyes open to squint at the light that seeps through the blinds.
“Good morning, my love,” he whispers and you grunt in exhaustion.
“You’re so mean.”
He chuckles pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. You hum and close your eyes again. “I should go,” you whisper and he holds you tighter.
“Stay with me a little longer,” he says in response.
You turn and look at him, you run a finger over the slope of his nose. “Should I be angry with you?” You question quietly.
“Do you want to be angry with me?” He returns and you frown slightly.
“Depends on how much you’re actively hiding from me right now, Master,” the last word come out comes out like a curse and Qimir has the decency to flinch away from you at the sound. It was easy, perhaps too easy to figure it out, especially after last night. It felt like turning the volume up on sound, something low and muffled suddenly becoming tangible and vivid.
His lips part to answer you but a viscous bang from the shop door stops him. For a moment you both freeze, dread creeps up your spine.
Another bang comes and you both scramble to dress. You’re grateful for Qimir deciding to bring your robes in from the shop after last night’s escapade. You have to steal one of his shirts to wear under your robes seeing as he ripped your underwear apart.
The door is banged on again.
“I’m coming!”
The banging continues as you slip on your shoes and grab your lightsaber. You leave Master Torbin’s on Qimir’s nightstand and grab your bag. You go to slip out the back but Qimir grabs you, and pulls you to him.
He kisses you deeply before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m leaving today.”
You frown.
“Just for a cycle, maybe more. I need to restock, we’ll talk more when I get back, okay?”
You force yourself to nod, your lips pursing in discontent. He kisses you again to soothe your annoyance. “I’ll see you soon,” he says again.
You nod and press your forehead against his, relish in his presence before you slip away through the back door.
~~~~~
Despite the rising sun it is too early for life to begin on Olega. The streets are overwhelming deserted and silent. When you reach the temple you grimace at the person waiting patiently for you.
Master Sol has his head titled up towards the sky.
“You’re up early.”
He looks at you and smiles warmly. “Early mornings are best for contemplation,” he says warmly. “I’m sure you agree.”
You force yourself to nod.
“Where did you disappear to last night?” He questions and you blink at him. “You went out with Yord, he came back, you did not, I got worried,” he clarifies studying your expression with a keen eye.
You look down at your shoes and shrug your shoulders, “We got into an argument, so I went to clear my head. I’m sure Master Cara has told you about my preference for trees.”
Sol chuckles, “I know you better than anyone, my dear. If I remember correctly I was the one who let Master Cara know about your preference before you left Coruscant.”
You hum and he motions towards the trees, “Would you like to take a quick walk with me, before you start your duties for the day?”
You hesitate.
“Please,” he gives you one of those warm, sad smiles that always cause your throat to close up with something painful. “We haven’t had a chance to speak since I arrived.”
You sigh and nod and the two of you move slowly into the surrounding fire following the foot made paths. The quiet is peaceful and soothing, you hum quietly to yourself as walk on the balls of your feet.
“What did you and Yord ague about, if you don’t mind me asking?” Master Sol breaks the quiet as you walk side by side.
You shrug, “What don’t we argue about? Yord and I would argue about if the sky were blue or cerulean just to argue.”
Master Sol chuckles in agreement, “But what about this time? He was sad when he came back, not angry or annoyed like he often is when the two of you find yourselves conversing.”
You sigh tiredly, “We argued about Master Torbin, then we argued about perspective and then…,” you squint up at the canopy of trees, the sunlight breaking through the leaves, casting a golden glow around the forest. You turn back to Master Sol with a saddened expression. “We talked about what used to be, what could have been.”
“And what was there to say?”
“Yord and I will never be friends again,” you admit quietly.
Master Sol shakes his head, “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” you refute with a shake of your head. “It’s one of the few things I have ever been sure of in my life. The Council shall rejoice, I bet.”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
Master Sol thinks hard on his words, “You and Yords attachment to each other placed the both of you at odds with those around you. You … you encouraged each other’s worst impulses—one could argue that you still do.”
You click your tongue in annoyance.
“The council feared what would happen if that connection continued to fester so the best course of action was pulling you apart.”
Isolating you from each other.
“And it seemed to work well, you both begun to excel.”
“Is that what you think?”
“Were they wrong?”
You shrugged your shoulders and looked away. The silence between the two of you stretches for far too long.
“Do remember when we first met?” He questioned and your raised a brow.
“How could I forget?”
It was quickly followed by the downfall of your family.
Sol smiled slightly, nostalgia painting the contours of his face. “You were so shy. Osha could draw Mae out but you refused to reveal yourself—at least until—.”
“You showed me that metal,” you finished. “I thought you had somehow plucked the sun from the sky,” you both laughed slightly.
“Whatever happened to it?”
You quietly unclipped your lightsaber from your belt and held the hilt out for him to see. A thick band of gold wrapped around the base of its hilt. “I didn’t want to lose it—this seemed to be the best way.”
He beamed silently taking your lightsaber from you hand to observe the hilt. “I thought you lost it.”
You huff in offence, “Never. I just kept it to myself. If I had told anyone I would have been scolded and lectured,” you rolled your eyes, “I can hear their chatter, “This action encourages sentimentality and nostalgia which is the path to the dark side” or so they’d say,” you hum as he hands it back to you. “Aren’t memories lessons?”
Sol nodded, “That they are—I find the Jedi throw the weight of the dark side around too much these days. Not everything they fear leads down that path.”
You nod silently.
“Attachment isn’t always bad,” he says after pause. “Attachment is care. It’s compassion. It’s love—it is the purest thing in the universe. You and Osha for example,” he says lightly and your brows furrowed. “Dare I say myself and the love I have for you and your sister,” he places a hand on your shoulder and you both come to a stop. “I can never shame a person for forming an attachment.”
“Sol, where are you going with this?” You question, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach.
“I saw you last night.”
You blink and shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sol gives you a knowing look, “When Yord stormed in without you, I got worried, I went looking.”
You step back and his hand falls from your shoulder, your face feels brittle, you can’t mould it how you wish to, like you’re used to. Your muscles clench into a look of dread, of guilt like a child caught stealing sweats. “I—no,” you shake your head. “No you didn’t.”
“I saw you and the apothecary together—.”
“No!” You took a step away shaking your head, panicking seizing your lungs. “No—no you didn’t.”
Sol gave you a look so soft and understanding it made you want to die. It was the same look he had given you when you woke up on the ship with only Osha to call family. It was the same look he gave you when you blamed him, when you said you hated him and Indara-and-and Torbin and Kelnacca.
“I didn’t see all of it, I will admit. It was not my place to intrude,” Sol said kindly. “I am not here to judge you, My Dear. I just—I merely wish to understand who you are now.”
You shifted from door to foot and looked at him guiltily. “I—,” you voice shook and your throat began to ache. “I was—I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear,” you whispered, vision growing foggy. “I was just—I was just so lonely,” you sobbed out.
Sol’s face fell at your confession.
“I had nothing—no one,” you angrily wiped at the scalding tears that ran down your cheeks. You felt like a child again, sobbing in front of your Mother, confessing your loneliness. “Osha left, Yord and I got separated and I,” you shook your head, hugging yourself. “It was—it was this feeling like I was dying. I felt like I was dying, Sol. And I tried, I tried my best completion but I couldn’t—but then I met him,” you smiled bitterly.
“I met him and suddenly I could breathe again—he completes me,” you admitted with a choked sob. “In some stupid, messed up way he completes me. And I know, I know I’m failing, I know I’m disappointing you—.”
“No!” Sol stepped forward and pressed his hands onto your shoulders, “You could never disappoint me,” he cupped your cheeks in his hands silently wiping the tears away with familiar calloused thumbs” “You could never disappoint me,” he pulled you into his arms and you burrowed into him, clinging onto the comfort you had been so long denied.
“No matter how much we trey to deny it, we are complex beings,” Sol whispered reassuringly in your pale hair. “It is what makes us beautiful.” He rubbed your back, “I wish others thought like did but that is not the case. Someday you will have to choose—just know no matter what you choose I will always, always love you.”
You wrapped your arms around him with a sniffle, that bottomless pit inside you had never felt so full. Peace was easy to find there in his arms.
Of course peace was a lie, a fact made clear with incident at Khofar .
You made your choice.
~~~~~~
I’m deciding to make a part three because this was getting too long and I want to finish this up cleaner. This parts ass btw 😬😬
Taglist: @talia-scar123 @penny44224 @ineedmyaccountback @deadstarkblacksoul @buttermilktea11
rewatching THE ACOLYTE | 1x07 “Choice”
Indara, I must face the Council…
Why would you do that to her? After everything this little girl has lost tonight, you'd take away her dream as well? Before you throw yourself at the mercy of the Council, ask yourself why you made this choice.
The TV binge model has ruined people's perception of TV. We’re 3 episodes into The Acolyte, a show that was advertised as a mystery, and people are complaining that they don’t know all the plot information yet. Yeah, that's the point. Watch the next 5 episodes and you'll figure it out








