I'm Watching You [6/8]
anonymous
April 8 2012, 21:11:29 UTC
Many seconds later, he let out a long, ragged sigh, watching Nihlus calm down, watching Nihlus tremble through the many aftershocks of what must have been the longest, most intense orgasm Saren had ever witnessed. Nothing even close to that had ever happened to him; not with a partner, let alone with himself.
And the way Nihlus cried out… that sort of voice was supposed to require… feelings.
Which was nonsense, of course. Silliness. Wishful thinking. Nihlus was attracted to everything with matching receptacles. And, damn his perfect body, voice and smile - everything with matching receptacles was attracted to Nihlus. Saren knew it with a bitter certainty: a week before that mission, Nihlus had surely been crying out some other name in abandon. Not his. Just like he was surely doing this very second, in the arms of some one-night lover. Not him.
And that made Saren grip the armrests with a renewed vigor, relishing the physical pain, letting it overshadow that other, unspeakable thing.
“Spirits,” Nihlus whispered. He had both his hands pressed just above his crotch, as if struggling to keep his entrails from falling out of some horrible wound. “Fucked up,” he whimpered. “Spirits, I’m so fucked up.”
Saren could watch no longer and he turned the feed off. He crossed his arms over his chest, palms almost numb from the vicious grip. His mind was still tempting him with fantasies, his body was still demanding, and his heart was still racing.
It would pass. Yes. Eventually, it would have to pass.
And the way Nihlus cried out… that sort of voice was supposed to require… feelings.
Which was nonsense, of course. Silliness. Wishful thinking. Nihlus was attracted to everything with matching receptacles. And, damn his perfect body, voice and smile - everything with matching receptacles was attracted to Nihlus. Saren knew it with a bitter certainty: a week before that mission, Nihlus had surely been crying out some other name in abandon. Not his. Just like he was surely doing this very second, in the arms of some one-night lover. Not him.
And that made Saren grip the armrests with a renewed vigor, relishing the physical pain, letting it overshadow that other, unspeakable thing.
“Spirits,” Nihlus whispered. He had both his hands pressed just above his crotch, as if struggling to keep his entrails from falling out of some horrible wound. “Fucked up,” he whimpered. “Spirits, I’m so fucked up.”
Saren could watch no longer and he turned the feed off. He crossed his arms over his chest, palms almost numb from the vicious grip. His mind was still tempting him with fantasies, his body was still demanding, and his heart was still racing.
It would pass. Yes. Eventually, it would have to pass.
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