Adumbration
by AlexPart 8
"And so he calls you, Jedi."
Belial stood there glaring at him, his face a twisted white mask, his body smelling of sweat and sex.
He turned away from Obi-Wan, his head bent. He rubbed his upper arms over and over, as if he were cold. He breathed deeply. Obi-Wan watched the movement of his back.
Belial seemed to relax. He glanced back at Obi-Wan, and then strode over to the bench in front of the Jedi and kicked it over. Instruments of torture crashed and rattled and uncoiled upon the floor. He kicked it again, sending it slamming into the wall. He stalked over to Obi-Wan and grabbed his tail, yanking his head back sharply. His other hand slid around Obi-Wan's throat, squeezing tightly.
"Tell me, Kenobi," the clone said, his voice a ragged whisper, "Why is it that he calls you? Why? He wanted you dead before. Why this sudden change?"
Belial bit his lower lip, drawing blood. His fingers tightened on Obi-Wan's throat. Black spots danced in front of Obi-Wan's eyes as he struggled to breathe through his nose.
"He claims great foresight, Jedi. He does, he claims it. But he does not see. I showed him," the clone ranted, oblivious to Obi-Wan's frantic gasps for air. "I showed him the potential of taking you, of turning you. What does he hope to accomplish?"
He released Obi-Wan abruptly and sank to his knees in front of him, staring up at Obi-Wan, lifting a hand to stroke the Jedi's face, his fingertips smoothing over the gag. Obi-Wan pulled away, still trying to suck in precious air.
"He thinks to replace me, Obi-Wan. I feel it. He doesn't trust me. But it will not be so. It will not be so. He is the one--" and his face twisted again.
"He wants you, Jedi. But you are mine. Mine. And you and I together..."
Obi-Wan stared at the Sith in horrified fascination.
"He commands us to join him on Sullust, Obi-Wan. What do you think? Should we go? Should we join Lord Sidious? Is it time?" He held Obi-Wan's loosened Padawan braid, coiling and uncoiling it round his fingers. Again and again, pulling harder and harder, and Obi-Wan let out a faint cry--not of pain, but of apprehension.
Belial appeared not to hear him. He continued twisting Obi-Wan's hair, his eyes unfocused. Finally he released the braid and lowered his head into his hands, his elbows digging into Obi-Wan's thighs.
"No, I don't think it's time yet, Obi-Wan. Not yet."
His voice was clogged, muffled.
"I think that you and I will stay here for a while, don't you think, just a while, until we're ready. Both of us. Then we'll go...we'll go..."
Belial trailed off, then fell silent.
He remained still for a very long time, and Obi-Wan wondered if he was actually weeping.
But when he looked up, his eyes were dry, lucid...and filled with glee.
"Did you enjoy watching, Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan turned his face away.
"Because I certainly enjoyed fucking Qui-Gon. He's a most considerate lover, you know. He didn't give in to his baser desires, although I could feel them, raging to get out. He didn't give me the pounding that he wanted...that is, he didn't give me the pounding that you wanted.
"I felt you, too. I've become intimately connected to both of you lately. I felt your anger and your hate. You must feel as though you'd come very close to Darkness, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan wanted to weep. Darkness beckoned, and he had stepped towards it, all but embracing it, instead of resolutely turning away.
"You haven't."
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, not understanding.
"Do you really think that, Jedi? Or could it be that the Jedi, all of the council, all the Masters and teachers simply shy away from the truth?"
Belial tugged on the cloth around Obi-Wan's head, pulled it down, and drew the sodden rag from Obi-Wan's mouth, tossing it aside.
"Tell me, Jedi. I'm curious. How close must one come to Darkness before falling to it entirely?"
Obi-Wan licked dry and cracked lips.His mouth ached dreadfully, and his tongue felt swollen and numb. He yearned to stretch his jaw but refused to give the clone the satisfaction of knowing that he'd caused Obi-Wan any discomfort. When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper.
"The path to Darkness is--"
"No! No Jedi wisdom, Obi-Wan. If I wanted to hear that claptrap, I would have asked for a philosophy lesson from Qui-Gon and left you gagged. I want to know what you think. And do try to be original, Obi-Wan. I know that the Jedi stifle individual thinking, but there must be a shred of brain matter that's not completely soaked with that pap they feed you."
Obi-Wan remained silent.
"Hmm. I would have thought that you would have welcomed the opportunity to speak. I do admire your prudence, though I think in this case it's motivated by cowardice. Yes?"
Silence.
"No? Feel free to disagree with me, Obi-Wan, it's one of the few freedoms you'll enjoy. Shall I tell you what I know to be the truth?"
Still kneeling before Obi-Wan, Belial reached out and caressed Obi-Wan's bruised mouth with a finger. Obi-Wan held himself still with effort.
"Momentary bursts of anger don't draw one to the Dark side, Kenobi. If that were true, every Jedi Council member would be well on the path to Darkness. It's perfectly natural to feel all those emotions that the Jedi would deny and repress. Tell me that there isn't a day that you feel anger, or passion, or fear, and I'll know you're a liar. You fight it every day, but you still feel it. Why? Why not give in, surrender yourself to your emotions? There's power in passion, Obi-Wan and yet passion itself does not lead to the Dark side. Nor does ignorance. Not separately, and not together.
"What, then, is the path to Darkness, Kenobi?" Belial's eyes were wide and blue and guileless, his face angelic.
Still Obi-Wan was silent.
"Can't guess? Here it is, Jedi. The answer to the question is knowledge. And free will. Two crucial tenets of the Jedi Code. Is it any wonder that the Jedi fear the Dark so? They are so close. Always. They shrink from it, but there it is."
Obi-Wan spoke then, a single word.
"Liar."
"No, Jedi. I speak the truth. You choose to blind yourself to it. Knowledge. Know hate. Know corruption. Know your passions. Let them guide you. Choose to let them guide you. It becomes effortless after a time. You become responsible only to yourself. Do what you will, Obi-Wan. Please yourself." As he spoke, the clone began to caress Obi-Wan's thighs lingeringly, gently, using only the tips of his fingers. He bent, kissed the tender flesh of one inner thigh. He looked up at Obi-Wan suddenly, his mouth quirking in a smile.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Obi-Wan gritted out from between clenched teeth.
Belial laughed.
"I'm beginning your education, Obi-Wan."
He bent down again and returned to Obi-Wan's thighs. His fingers found their way upwards, lightly scratching Obi-Wan's chest, trailing to his nipples, following the delicate pattern there, smiling when they responded, hardening almost instantly.
Obi-Wan shut his eyes. This couldn't be happening, it was so grotesque.
He began a Litany, breathing deeply.
...I will live in fidelity to the Light. I will traverse the path to wisdom...
Belial's tongue darted into Obi-Wan's navel.
...the Light will be engraved upon my soul...
Circling around and around, and now sliding lower.
...and I will not fear...
Lower, to the soft skin above the thatch of red-gold hair.
...I will not...
Lower still.
...I...
Nothing but that mouth, relentless, and the unwilling reaction, his body a traitor to his soul.
"Stop..."
So persistent, and he didn't want this, he didn't, not from this thing...
"STOP!"
Belial stopped.
Obi-Wan was shaking, his body feverish. He glared at the clone.
"I hate you," he said.
Belial wiped his mouth. "Not good enough, Jedi."
He stood, walked over to a shelf, pulled down a simple vibroblade. Cut the ropes binding Obi-Wan to the chair, caught him before he fell bonelessly to the floor. Sat on the floor, Obi-Wan cradled in his arms. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan jerked his head away. It was the only movement that he was capable of. His muscles screamed in protest at the sudden release, used to hours of painful, enforced stillness.
"Let me go."
"Never."
"You'll be caught. They'll kill you when they find out."
"They're not going to find out, Obi-Wan." One hand closed on Obi-Wan's penis, fondling it slowly. The other tenderly massaged the torn and bruised skin of his wrist.
Obi-Wan gasped, humiliated at his weakness.
"Qui-Gon...will try to rebuild the bond...he'll know...he'll..."
"If that happens...which I doubt...I'll simply kill him. I'm going to kill him anyway."
"No."
"Yes. Although I'd like to fuck him quite a bit more. He's really amazing, Obi-Wan. Eventually I'm sure that he'll let go, and then we'll really enjoy ourselves. As it is, I find myself a bit...unsatisfied." Fingers twined in Obi-Wan's hair, and the pressure on his cock increased. "He's bigger than me, and I thought that I was impressively large. What a waste."
Obi-Wan's vision gained a reddish haze.
"Maybe I'll fuck him before I kill him," the clone continued blithely. "A leaving gift, you might say. What do you think?"
No, no, no...
He opened his eyes. He felt a sudden calm.
How he did it, he couldn't guess. But his body flowed up, heedless of the pain and the suffocated tissues of his abused flesh. Blinding speed and he whirled, kicking Belial full-on in the face, grinning savagely at the clone's enraged cry of pain. The clone jumped up, advanced on Obi-Wan, who had seized and was brandishing the same hooked instrument that Belial had subtly threatened him with hours before.
"Let me out, or I'll kill you, Sith."
Belial shook his head, irritated.
"You're a fool, Kenobi."
Belial lifted his hand, and Obi-Wan turned too late to prevent a heavy piece of equipment from smashing into his back. He crumpled to the ground with a low cry, felt the weapon wrenched from his grasp.
Belial dragged him back to the chair, flung him facedown, his chest pressed to the seat. He pulled Obi-Wan's arms forward, lashing his wrists to the base of the chair with remnants of carbon rope. He dug his fingers into Obi-Wan's scalp, yanked his head back.
"I would have been tender with you, Kenobi," he hissed. "We might have shared pleasure, you and I. I would have bestowed pleasure before I inflicted pain upon you. But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps pain will cleanse you, make you more willing to receive pleasure later."
Obi-Wan fought desperately, his fear giving him unexpected strength. No mistake about what the clone planned to do now, and he yanked at the ropes and kicked and flailed, and once almost managed to dislodge himself from his vulnerable position.
But Belial was stronger, and Obi-Wan's legs were forced apart, the clone kneeling between them. One hand closed on his tail; he heard the sound of rustling cloth, and he tried to squirm away, crying out incoherent words.
"Let me go, let me go, you can't, no, help me, help me, Master, you can't, please--"
That hateful laugh again. "Well, if you'd rather pretend it's your master, Obi-Wan, I suppose that's all right with me..."
Obi-Wan sobbed.
"First lesson, Kenobi...do what you will."
He spread Obi-Wan widely apart, then pushed into the tight opening, past the ring of muscle, tearing delicate tissue and tender skin.
Obi-Wan moaned, a lost, agonized cry that made the clone smile again even as he grunted in his own pain, flesh against unprepared flesh.
Oh Master it hurts it hurts it hurts me...
Pain.
And his soul, a tiny light in a maelstrom of Darkness.
Belial pushed him to the floor, his wrists still bound to the base of the chair.
"Sleep, Kenobi. We'll begin again later."
Obi-Wan did not look up as the clone left the room.
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