“The hilt is made of electrum,” Chancellor Palpatine says, cool as can be. It's a far cry from Fox's current state, strung out and shaking, all laid out for the Chancellor to see.
The lightsaber in question is sitting on the floor, next to Fox's face, and if he wasn't so busy following orders, if he wasn't holding open his thighs and trying not to cry, he could reach out and touch it. He could reach out and touch it, and he could take it and ignite it and escape. It's a tantalizing thought, for all that he knows it would probably end up being his doom.
“Commander, are you aware of the fact that an electrum detailing on a lightsaber represents a mastery of the Force?”
“N-no sir,” Fox somehow manages to make himself say in reply, trying not to squirm or cry as surprisingly strong fingers prod at his rim. It’s teasing, a gentle stretch, and despite the horror welling up in his gut, his cock still twitches in interest at the stimulation.
The betrayal of his own body is gutting. Another finger pushes in, and Fox just barely manages not to cry out as he feels himself thicken further, instead biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to muffle the sound.
“You know, for all that the Jedi claim not to be vain, they nevertheless use electrum as a way to flaunt their very best and brightest. It’s quite hypocritical of them, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yessir,” Fox forces out, and he digs his nails into the flesh on his palms, tries to ground himself. Kark. Kark . This isn’t-- this isn’t what he wanted , and he can’t breathe, and he’s being toyed with, and--
Did he do something wrong? Bring this on himself?
“I believe that Master Windu has electrum detailing on the hilt of his lightsaber, actually. It’s the shimmer of gold that gives it away, you see.”
It’s the shimmer of— no. No. He just— he can't. He just can’t. Fox doesn’t reply, and suddenly the fingers within him are removed, leaving him achingly empty, and—
Oh Force , he knows what’s coming next, oh Force , he wants to cry and beg and scream, but—
But he’s frozen still, and the Chancellor is known to be merciless.
The first thing Fox notices is how the lightsaber feels oddly warm, how it seems to be almost thrumming, almost alive. Cody had told him once that General Kenobi called his lightsaber his life, and Fox suddenly understands that in a way that threatens to choke him with it's intensity.
Chancellor Palpatine presses the lightsabers edge up against his rim, and he twitches, whines when one of the Chancellor's hands comes down onto his belly to hold him still. It's a command, an order, for all that it's a silent one, and if there's anything that Fox knows, it's that he follows orders.
He's one of the most decorated troopers in the GAR. He's a good soldier. He follows his karking orders.
Relaxing as the metal slowly pushes into him is an impossible endeavor, but it's one he attempts nevertheless. He's rewarded for his efforts by the hand on his belly starting to move, caressing him lightly, and he barely manages to choke back a sob at the sensation. It's nice, it's so nice, and he can't remember the last time someone touched him like this, can almost ignore the truth of who is doing the touching.
He wants Thorn. He wants Stone. He wants Thire. He wants to not be here anymore, wants to sink into the ground and disappear.
The lightsaber pushes in further, and suddenly he realizes that it's really and truly breaching him, and kark, kark , he can't karking breathe. Small whimpers escape his mouth with every movement, and he wants to clench down but he can't, wants to jerk away but that'll probably get him killed. He feels as if he's being torn apart from the inside out. It feels as if this will never end. After all, it's only just begun.
Kark. Kark . Will this room be the last thing he sees?
The lightsaber jerks inside of him, and he whines with the flare of pain as his body moves with it. He's been trained to resist torture, he knows how to deal with pain, but this… this hurts something low and deep and vulnerable in his soul, and he doesn't know how to deal with that. Doesn't know if he can .
His one saving grace is knowing that the Chancellor will be the only one who hears him when he inevitably gives in and screams.