by Murasaki99
Synopsis: Kir Kanos is the last survivor of Palpatine’s Royal Guards. After acquiring ten clones of Guards ranging in age from two to ten, Kir concedes he needs someone to assist with their care. Showing admirable concentration despite a ship-full of little kids, he seeks out Mirith Sinn, the New Republic commander who loves him, and persuades her to join forces with him and his instant family. Mirith bravely agrees, and uses her connections to find them a ‘safe place’ on Pakrik Minor to raise the kids. This turns out to be a farm next to Carib Devist, a clone of Imperial ace Baron Fel, his cloned brothers, and their families. Carib gives them an old farmhouse and the couple finally gets to settle down to normal domestic bliss – or that’s Mirith’s plan. Of course, she never thought to ask Kir what he considered normal.
Give it an R for adult situations. |
“Ha!” said Mirith, her eyes lighting up. “Our own bedroom.”
“You did tell them we were married,” said Kir, eyeing the modest space with its wide bed warily. Like all the furnishings in the farmhouse, the bed was a hand-me-down from the neighbors, but it looked adequate. The fact that the neighbors were all former Imperials made him slightly less nervous.
“And it paid off.” Mirith bounced a little in place, grinning.
“Hmmh.”
Mirith looked at him in surprise. “Now that we can actually have some privacy, you don’t want to…?” Her voice sank. “You don’t want me?”
“Of course I do. I ache for want of you.” The blunt admission and his frank stare made the blood climb into her cheeks. “But you are forgetting my experience – or lack of same.”
“You mean you’ve never?” Her eyes brightened. “That’s easily mended.”
“Well, not with a female anyway.” Kir tossed his head. “And you would probably not wish to partake of the activities we – my brother Guardsmen and I – performed on each other in those moments when we could attend to such things as our physical comfort.”
“What? Wouldn’t Palpatine let you guys date or marry?”
“Not while we were in active service. There is a military saying, ‘If we wanted you to have a wife, we would have issued you one.’” Kir rolled his muscular shoulders in a slow shrug. “We were left to amuse ourselves as best we could.”
“Suffering stars, that man had as many kinks as a Quarren has tentacles!”
"Am I hearing an insult to the memory of the Emperor?"
Mentally kicking herself, Mirith schooled her face into calmness before she answered. "Of course not, I was simply stating a fact."
Kir considered this for a long moment. "Very well," he said mildly and continued his inspection of the room. Like the furniture, the farmhouse was old, but well-made. They had found nothing that a little work couldn't fix.
Mirith breathed a sigh of relief at having successfully avoided one of Kir's mental mine fields. The man was honest to a fault, and you could speak your mind to him without fear no matter what the topic, save one. Long, fierce years in service to Palpatine had left the guardsman with a large blind spot where it concerned the Emperor.
"It looks sturdy enough, and the frame is metal." Kir had completed his circuit and was studying the bed thoughtfully. He nodded. "It should do."
Mirith stood by his side and touched his shoulder. Under the concealing rough homespun of his outer robe she could feel the shoulder plates of his armor. "We have a date then? For tonight?"
Kir looked down at her and smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. I suggest you bring a heavy rope."
"What?!"
"Or perhaps some of that cargo strapping, that would also work."
"Kir, what do you—"
"Mother! Father! Look what we've got! The neighbors brought us boxes of them!" Into the bedroom piled at least half of the children. In their arms they held squawking, struggling avian creatures, their spindly legs churning as they sought to get out of the eager grips of the kids. Speckled feathers drifted about in the air. Kir looked in astonishment at the noisy brood. "What are these?"
"Remember those yard fowl I mentioned a couple weeks ago?" Mirith snagged an escapee and tucked it into the crook of her arm to contain its struggles. "This is them." To Pali she directed her next question, "Carib Devist brought these?"
"Yes mother, him and Lacy. They brought two crates full then left." Pali tried to act outraged but the effect was spoilt by her giggle. "Joron and I said to leave them in there, but everyone else wanted to see them up close, and Ten and Te opened the first crate before we could stop them." Pali waved a hand toward the outside of the house, still clutching a half-grown bird who shrieked in outrage as it was jostled about. More feathers drifted down. The floor was starting to look as if it was covered with newly fallen, if somewhat dirty snow. "The others are still trying to catch them. These birds can run pretty fast."
"All right, let's go and find some place to put them once we get them all rounded up." Mirith shooed the children in front of her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. A trail of feathers marked their progress.
Kir followed at her heels. "You had a question for me?"
Mirith ducked as a frantic bird fluttered toward her head. Kir snatched it out of the air neatly and tucked it under his arm, copying her technique precisely.
"Good save, thanks. I have many questions, but they're going to have to wait till tonight," she replied. “It doesn’t sound like the sort of conversation to have in front of the children.”
"That's fine, I’ll answer any questions you have tonight, just don't forget the rope." Looking quite cheerful, Kir ran outside to supervise the hunt, leaving Mirith shaking her head in perplexity.
“At last,” Mirith sighed as she shut the door to the bedroom. “The kids are asleep, the droids are cleaning up, the birds are in their pen, and we have some privacy.”
Kir Kanos pulled off the outer layer he had worn during the day, revealing his red and black armor. As he folded the robe he asked. “Did you bring the rope?”
“I did.” Mirith tossed a coil of sturdy rope on the bed, eyeing it and Kir dubiously. “But I’ll tell you right now, I’m not exactly into being tied up.”
“It isn’t meant for you,” he replied.
“Oh, good, I’m glad we’ve got that cleared that up,” she breathed a sigh of relief.
Kir grinned and lifted the rope, shaking out several of the loops. “It’s for me.”
Mirith watched in concern as Kir removed a vibroblade from his belt, stuck it into the dresser by the bed, and began with efficient movements to wind the end of the rope around his left wrist and secure it with a knot, tugging it tight with his teeth. “Kir, what are you doing?”
“Preparing to have sex with you, of course.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she muttered.
He cast a quick loop around one leg of the bed and after stretching out, made his ankles fast, one to each bedpost, secured his right wrist to the upper bedpost, and then passed the end of the cord to Mirith. “You are going to have to help with the last, just copy what I’ve done.”
Kneeling by the bed she caught his free hand. “Stop and listen to me for a minute.” When she was sure she had his attention, she continued. “Why do you want to be tied up? This is supposed to be love-making, not an interrogation.”
“As I tried to explain to you earlier before we were interrupted, this is how we, my brother guardsmen, managed such things between us.”
“I remember. I also thought you said I probably wouldn’t want to emulate their actions?”
Kir’s smile was decidedly lopsided. “Well, you aren’t built for certain things, I know that much at least. And I thought you probably wouldn’t want to partake of the ritual combat before the encounter…”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Mirith clutched the rope end she’d been given and held up a hand. “I’m going to regret asking, but will you tell me the entire sequence of what you usually did?”
Kir settled back against the pillows. “Certainly. To start, a partner is selected. Sometimes this is by random lots, and sometimes by invitation. Then there is combat – a sparring session, between the people wanting to partake. After the match, the loser is bound and the winner can then do as he pleases.” Kir paused, remembering. “Depending upon who was chosen as your partner, the matches could be extremely intense. Then again, if you were with someone you preferred, the match might be very brief and not too terribly hard fought."
"You mean, sometimes you had a partner you wouldn’t normally want?"
"Yes, that did happen now and again. Being brother guardsmen, it was not considered correct behavior to refuse an invitation from anyone. Prior to the betrayal of Carnor Jax, no one would have thought of harming his brother, but not everyone was skillful, shall we say, and so we did develop our preferences. But if a brother asked, it would have been improper to refuse, whether you preferred him or not." Kir smiled. "As a result, some of the personal combat was exhausting to the point where afterward we could do very little but sleep."
"That's certainly one way of getting around the problem of selfish or inept lovers," Mirith said, answering his smile with one of her own. "But since we aren't doing personal combat this night, why do you feel you need this?" She lifted the rope in her hand.
"Besides it being part of a familiar ritual, the other reason is safety, your safety."
"You haven't hurt me yet, I trust you." Mirith sat down beside his body, feeling the warmth leaching through his armor into her hip and leg.
"Ah, but I don't trust myself." At her expression of dismay he continued. "It is not that I think I will harm you right now this instant. I care for you very much, and I would not willingly cause you any pain, but you have seen what can happen when my combat instincts take over. If I hurt you in a moment of inattention, I would not forgive myself, but it would not change the fact that I had caused harm. To lie for a night with one of my brothers did not entail the same level of risk, our instincts for combat were the same and so neither of us came to any grief. You were not trained the same way as we were, and I count that as a good thing, but it means I would not trust myself to lie beside you quietly and safely. So, please do finish." He held up his free arm. If any danger threatens, use the knife beside us to cut me loose -- and step back out of the way."
"Oh, Kir." Mirith leaned forward to touch her forehead to his chest. They shared the room with the dead and far too many memories. Sadness tightened the back of her throat, followed by a sudden flush of anger at the safely deceased author of their miseries. A slow wave of compassion cooled her fury and brought Kir’s scarred face into focus. "All right, we'll do it your way this night. It's not as if we would get very far if you couldn't relax." Sitting up and taking his left hand, she cast a loop around his wrist and secured it to the remaining bedpost. Once she had completed that task she felt Kir settle by degrees into the bed ticking. Leaning down again she kissed him. "But I'm going to think dark thoughts about your Emperor the entire time."
"What!" The bed frame creaked as Kir pulled against the ropes. They held fast.
Mirith grinned mischievously. "Looks like you and I did a good job." She eyed his recumbent frame thoughtfully. "I suppose we should have gotten you out of your armor first. Oh well, we'll just have to do the best we can." She ran her fingers over his breastplate. "How do you get this stuff off?"
“There are catches, along the edges of the left sideseam of the breastplate,” said Kir, turning his head a little to look in that direction. “Can you feel them?”
Mirith’s face was intent as she moved her hands over the armor-plated surface of his chest. “No... Wait… yes, I think I found them!” She dug her fingers into small dimples recessed into the armor and felt a hidden seam join open soundlessly, allowing her to remove the breastplate. Now that she had discovered the trick, the pauldrons and vambraces soon followed along with much of the skintight armored bodyglove that sheathed his upper torso and arms. “Thank goodness this has openings along the inner seams, or we’d be stuck.”
“I doubt it is because the designers were concerned about our convenience as much as ease of access for the medics charged with our care.”
“I’m not going to quibble over the design logic right now; there are much better things to be doing.” Mirith peeled open the inner lining, exposing the skin of his chest. “We’ve got to fix it so you can have your hands free, the sooner the better.” She kissed his breastbone and felt a deep shiver course through the muscles.
“Why?”
“Because your hands are good for lots of things – like this.” Resting her cheek against his chest, she stroked both of his nipples. Kir gasped and shuddered all over, his body arching under hers in a sudden surge.
Collapsing back onto the bed he groaned. “You’ve just done for me. Untie these.”
“Oh no.” Mirith smiled and stood, beginning to slowly shed her clothing, opening her jacket and shirt. “We’re only just starting.” Her grin became impish. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“What? But?” Kir tugged at the ropes tethering his wrists. “You just… I mean… You finished me.”
“And so what of that? Did you guards need special permission from the Emperor to have more than one bit of pleasure in an evening?”
“Well, no, but once we’d achieved release, what more would we want?”
“Oooh, this is going to be fun.” She pulled the inner lining of her shirt free and tossed it in the direction of the dresser. “I probably shouldn’t ask, but how long did you and your partners take with each other?”
“Not counting the combat?” Kir’s brow furrowed, then smoothed as he watched her settle beside him. “It varied – from two to five minutes, sometimes as long as ten. It’s not as if we were supposed to dwell on such things.”
“Think of it this way: we didn’t learn martial arts in ten minutes, it’s something we practiced for a long time.” Mirith nudged her boots under the bed. “We have all night, and that will get us well-started, but the more practice, the better we get.” Bare-chested, she stretched herself along his length until they were nose to nose. Her eyes sparkled with wicked humor. “It’s not like you’re all old and dried-up like he was.” At this range, she could see his dark eyes had taken on a smoky, abstracted look as he tried to split his concentration between her words and the pressure of her body against his own.
“I… think that was an insult to someone?”
Mirith stood and let her breeches and underclothing slide to the floor. “Not to you, it wasn’t. As for the other, I think it was the absolute truth, unless you know different?” The thought of Palpatine having any sort of sex life gave Mirith a queasy shudder and before Kir could marshal his thoughts enough to answer; she kissed him hard, derailing any potential reply.
She let her hands explore his body, taking her time, waiting for him to quit flinching and twitching before moving on to another spot. It was not as if he was actually bruised in the places where he jumped at her touches, she could see nothing obvious, but she could feel the many remnants of healed scars under her fingers. Some were pits, like the remains of old blaster-fire, many more were long cicatrices left by slashing blades. The more she searched, the more she found and once again had to squelch a rush of anger at the Emperor. Kir had reactions to touch similar to that of an abused animal. Loving hands, have you never felt any before now? Mirith wondered. After several minutes she turned her attention to the remaining armor.
The jointed pectoral armor came off as one unit, and the bodyglove split open along the ventral seam. Mirith drew her hands along the ridges of muscle covering Kir’s stomach. “I’m glad the old creep is dead, glad, glad, glad,” she muttered into the hollow of his navel.
Letting the last of the armor slide onto the floor, she moved her hands downward. A little below his waist her fingers ran into a barricade of thin fabric so tight it might have been painted on, stretching from hips halfway to the knees. The material had the slick feel of dartex, a cloth made to pull moisture away from the skin and much favored for use under armor of the sort Kir habitually lived in. "No fair," Mirith said. "You're wearing more layers than I am."
This particular pair of shorts had no closures or fastenings of any sort to facilitate removal. With his legs spread out and secured the way they were to the bedposts, simply pulling them off was out of the question. "We really should have stripped all of this before we started," she sighed.
“I was distracted,” Kir replied, sounding strained.
Looking to her left, she spied the vibroblade sticking out of the top of the dresser and snatched it free. "Never mind, this will do nicely." Hooking her finger into the waistband of the shorts she tugged it away from his skin and began slicing carefully downward.
“Mir-rith.”
She felt Kir shudder as the blunt edge of the blade whispered along his skin, parting the dark fabric with each stroke above his belly, his loins, down the thighs. His flesh rose in goosebumps. Something else also responded. Mirith grinned and placed the knife back atop the dresser. "Well, that certainly had a good effect."
"It was inspirational." Kir breathed faster.
Clearing away the shreds of damp cloth, Mirith chuckled softly. “I may just forgive him a little. In this at least he had good taste.”
“Don’t think we were chosen on the basis of… of…” He sucked in air as Mirith inclined her head, covered him with her mouth for a long moment, kindling a hot coal of pleasure. He groaned when she withdrew and sat up, groaned again when she slowly guided him in, finally settling astride his hips with a deep sigh.
“How is that?”
He could feel the vibration of her voice travel through her body into his own. When he tried to answer, the words simply would not emerge. He could feel her – her life energy, her need, the sweet ache echoing and augmenting his own. “Nngh.”
“That sounds nice.” Her voice was a husky growl. Tiny drops of sweat beaded along her temples and sparkled in her hair as she moved above him. “Say it again,” she whispered as she was caught in the accelerating rhythm of their need. He arched and bucked hard, gasping. Now soundless, she rode with him, hips rocking, matching his pace.
Mirith!
Kir.
He should have released at the first wave of pleasure, but found himself borne along helplessly in the swift-moving current growing from his and Mirith’s own energies.
You’re here?
Yes.
With. Together.
The combined energies had strength so deep it would have been frightening had Kir not been exhilarated beyond fear. Caught up in that tidal grip he could only gasp for air until at last everything broke free, sweeping them away. Squeaks of strained metal sounded from the bed frame, ceasing as Kir relaxed. Mirith laid at length against him, panting, matching him breath for breath.
Slowly, with shaking fingertips, she stroked his cheek. “That was… I’ve never…”
“Nor I.” His breathing slowed by degrees and he enjoyed the feeling of her body cradled warm against his own, a contrast to the places where the night breeze cooled his sweat.
“So, it takes practice you say?”
“Oh yes, as much as possible.” Mirith’s teeth flashed as she smiled.
“What about those dark thoughts you said you would have?”
“What thoughts?” Mirith traced a finger along the scar across his face. It tickled and Kir crinkled his nose.
“About…him.”
“What him?”
For the first time, Mirith heard Kir laugh.
###
Author's Note: For those who haven't read the graphic novels Crimson Empire I and II, Kir isn't exaggerating when he says his combat instincts are extremely dangerous. He ended up killing one of Mirith's best friends during his final duel with Carnor Jax, when the Trandoshan ran out and tried to interfere with the battle. Kir turned around and stabbed him through the heart before he could stop himself. He was regretful afterwards, once he calmed down, but during the fight he was in that mode where he neither asked for nor gave any quarter and anyone within range was an enemy. This conditioning is all Palpatine's doing, since he demanded his guards be capable of killing anyone on command at any moment without question or hesitation.
The usual disclaimers apply: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas; we’re only borrowing the universe for a bit of fun, we’ll put our toys back when we’re done.
Silver Alaska maintains a website of her own Star Wars fanfiction.
