Azar quietly drank his wine as Karys followed his command. With each armor piece dropping on the floor with a clatter, those familiar urges began to rise to the surface. There had been tension the entire time they were in one another’s presence, and it was inexplicable. Azar was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and he felt no shame in it. The job was done, the mission was an overwhelming success, and he was sitting on the spoils of his victory.
The Pureblood threw back the rest of his drink, effortlessly floating the goblet away with the Force. He didn’t care that the room was lined with a few Zygerrians he had put in chains, they could watch. Azar eyed Karys hungrily, his gleaming yellow gaze tracing over every scar and defined muscle on the other man. He returned the kiss eagerly, never getting enough of the other man’s lips. He didn’t linger there too long this time, moving to stand. In one fluid motion, he shoved Karys down to sit on the throne.
It was Azar’s turn to undress, and he reached up and undid the intricate robes, letting the slivers fall away. His lithe, toned torso was revealed then. It wasn’t riddled with scars, but there were intricate tattoos all over his red skin and countless piercings. The history of the Sith, the pride of their people, the designs of their doctrines were all inked on Azar’s body. It was the most blatant reveal of his royal origins, marking him as a son to inherit the Korriban throne should he have pursued his familial trajectory.
None of that mattered right then as he closed the distance and leaned in atop Karys, meeting his lips. His hands touched, grasped, scratched while he bit, nibbled and tasted to his heart’s content. He took for himself unbridled pleasure and ecstasy that he earned for delivering a planet to the Sith Order’s feet.
His gasps and groans echoed in concert with the cries of the slaver leaders that were brutally executed in the middle of the square outside. His nails dug into Karys’ shoulders just as the Queen’s claws dug into her palms as she watched her trusted advisors fall one by one. Azar writhed and moved as the Zygerrian crowd murmured whispers of discontent among themselves.
At the end of it, the Queen stood alone on the balcony overseeing the executions. She lightly dabbed at her lips, wiping off the bit of blood that had dribbled from her mouth. She knew she had shackles on her. Shackles placed on her by two men that didn’t even dignify this occasion with their presence.
Azar gave a shuddered exhale, drawing back to gaze at Karys, his body still trembling. His hands were gripping the back of the throne on either side of Karys’ head and he was still on the other man’s lap. Sweat lined his crimson skin, but that animalistic gaze never left his eyes. He gazed at Karys for a moment before gingerly tracing kisses along his jawline, “Stick around, Loth-kitten, I plan to have you on many more thrones,” He murmured teasingly against his ear before nibbling against it.
Azar didn’t linger there much longer, slowly easing himself off and to his shaky feet again. He would have the Zygerrians draw up a bath and enjoy the other man once more. Their work was done here, but he assigned Karys to remain on the planet until the slaver council was fully replaced with Sith. They would have to part ways now, but Azar already knew he would take up every corner of Karys’ mind the entire time.
/End
@Apollyon