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AAAAGHHHHHZJOSAHWUIEKSJKS

— SENSORY DEPRIVATION with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 1,328 | content: sexual descriptions of the force (??), fingering, might be bad idk i was drunk writing most of this

❛❛put it on.” he didn’t hold the mask out to you, or drag you to where it sat on the table and force it on. just gave you a command.

“what will you do if i don’t?”

“nothing at all.”

his careless response frustrated you. you wanted him to give you a reason why, something you could use as an excuse for why you wanted to put it on, even before he said anything. and he gave you nothing. he only watched you.

he watched you as you fruitlessly searched for a way out of this and gave up far too quickly. he watched you as you slowly moved towards the table, as you sat face to face with his mask. as your fingertips reached out to touch the cool metal, the entirety of your palm flattening against it shortly after. you could feel something tugging at you, and you looked at him.

“put it on,” he repeated softly. you waited for a moment, and you did.

now, you let the darkness envelop you, take over your mind. you’re wearing the mask that he wore when he killed your friends. when he nearly killed you. and now you know— the whole time, he saw nothing.

all you can hear is your own heavy breathing. was this how he felt when he cut them down? when he made you think he was saving you for last as he tossed you aside with a flick of his hand?

“how does it feel?” he sounds far away and directly in your ear at the same time.

you see flashes, lightsabers clashing, your friends dying—

“this was a mistake.” your hands grip the sides of the helmet, but before you can lift it off, his own hands cover yours.

“clear your mind. breathe.” his thumbs brush your knuckles. “it’s overwhelming, i know.”

you let out a shaky breath. “you don’t see anything.”

“no,” he says, moving his hands to your shoulders. “and that allows my other senses to be heightened.”

you focus on his voice, on the feeling of his palms warming your skin. “and you prefer it that way?”

“it’s better this way. just you… and the force…” he pauses, runs a finger along your collarbone. “and whatever else you… allow yourself to feel.”

his name is loud in your ears when you say it. “would you show me?”

instead of responding, his touch leaves you. with your hands dropped to your sides, you’re left completely vulnerable to him with his mask obscuring your vision. but you can hear him, his breathing, the shift of his weight, the steps he takes to get closer to you. his hand cutting through the air between the two of you to slide up your top and flatten against the plane of your stomach.

“feels different, doesn’t it?” he hums.

“yes,” you breathe.

it’s like you can sense every atom that makes him up, the force flowing through him in a way you’ve never been able to feel, not even within yourself. your hand covers his underneath your top. the power hums, pulses, fills you with the insatiable urge for more.

“feels good.”

it’s not a question. you nod in response all the same.

“i know,” he whispers. “i know it does.”

his hand begins to slips lower, and you let it. your breathing hasn’t calmed, but you don’t hear it anymore, just the hum of the force as he uses it to undo your pants and allow himself access to the part of yourself that you haven’t explored.

your years of jedi training are screaming at you from outside the barrier of cortosis around your head, telling you to stop this, to take the mask off, hurtle it at him to catch him off guard, because this is an attack, he’s attacking your very being and this merits retaliation—

and you ignore it, refuse to let it distract you from qimir’s breath on your chest, his hand cupping the heat between your thighs.

“they would never let you feel this. not just this,” he punctuates the word with pressing a finger inside you, and you choke on air, jaw going slack, “but this power, this energy. this is how i felt you, on khofar.”

you gasp when he adds another finger, his movements more insistent as the force between the two of you thrums, building as you draw him closer.

“that’s how i knew it was you. the one i’ve been looking for. you’re different than the jedi. more powerful.” he laughs breathlessly when you grab the back of his head, dig your fingers into his hair. “come on, use your words.”

“so… so good,” you pant, torn between wanting to remove the mask to see his face, to see if he’s as affected by your touch as you are by his, kiss him, and wanting to never take it off so he can just continue to have his way with you.

though, you think he might have his way with you regardless. even worse, you think you’d let him.

“you’re such a good listener,” he praises, grinding his palm against you as his fingers thrust harder, more insistently. “you’ll make an excellent pupil.”

“n-no,” you stammer, unsure how you even manage to say it with his fingers inside of you and his lips teasingly dragging along the heated skin of your chest.

“no?” you hear him scoff, and can practically see the raised-brows look he’s giving you.

“you don’t—”

“understand?” he pulls the word right out of your mouth, pausing his movements and ignoring your cry of disappointment. “you can feel me. here, now, in the force. feel me, and try to tell me i don’t understand.”

you’re desperate, you realize as he slowly resumes pleasuring you. for him, for the release he’s brought you so close to, for answers as to why he is the way he is.

you reach out to that power in his body, feel the way it moves and slides and aligns with yours. it’s different, it has been for a long time now, but you feel its beginnings. it has the same ones as yours; was once a youngling at the jedi temple.

“it’s hard to walk away. but it’s easier when they don’t leave you anything to walk away from. you’re here. you’re with me. and i’m not going anywhere.” he says it like a promise, his tongue laving the skin of your neck like he can taste your need. “now give it to me.”

and even though he’s technically the one that didn’t leave you anything to walk away from, you believe him. you let it all go.

your doubt, your worry, your half-baked plans of escape, your distrust, your fear. it rushes out of you with your orgasm and you yank him into you, feel the hard plane of his chest against yours, rising and falling with his own labored breaths as he removes his fingers, leaving you shaking with sensitivity.

you fumble with the mask, pushing it off your head with a gasp when the light of the cave sears your eyes. you bury your face in his neck, the both of you letting his mask tumble to the ground as he returns your hold. you don’t know if he’s doing it because he wants to, or if he just knows it’s what you need from him. your jedi master never held you. never gave you the connection that you craved. qimir has given you that and more.

“i want you to teach me,” you whisper, letting yourself melt into the comfort of his arms. “teach me everything.”

he pets the back of your head, strokes your hair. “this was your first lesson, my acolyte.”

you need to know every facet of him, every bit of wisdom he’s gained, no matter how long it takes. you won’t grapple for excuses. you won’t think twice.

you will only ever do what your master wants.

m.list

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