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Wanting Myself

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In the days that Victor Frankenstein stayed on the Death Star, Tarkin realized that his usual headaches have doubled. The sudden and unexplained appearance of his doppelgänger brought about various problems for the Grand Moff, especially in the form of Victor trying to raise the dead (unsuccessfully) and shamelessly flirting with Lord Vader (also unsuccessfully). Of course his lover had an answer to the strange anomaly that was their guest.

“It has to be the work of the Force, to pull this man from another Universe into ours.”

Tarkin just looked at the Sith Lord unimpressed, stating that Vader probably just didn’t know how this happened, so if he could kindly stop pretending it was all the Force’s doing for once.

Not only was Frankenstein making Wilhuff feel out of sorts thanks to their uncanny resemblance, the younger man was starting to grate on his nerves with the way he fawned over Vader. Anakin was his lover and Tarkin was not one to give up what was his. He knew that this kind of possessive thinking would get him nowhere and it was more Vader’s forte really, but he could not help seething in anger when Victor caressed the armored, black arm, while his eyes shined in fascination when gazing at the Sith.

“Frankenstein, a word please.” He said one day while in the meeting room.

Tarkin could no longer stand listening to Victor patter on about how incredible of a creature Vader was, to be able to live after getting most of his body burned and replaced by robotics. How did that snake come by such information was still a mystery to the Grand Moff.

Victor looked at him with a smirk, something strange glinting in his eyes, identical to that of Tarkin, yet so different at the same time.

“But of course my friend! Lead the way!” Said the Doctor jovially as he got up to follow Wilhuff who was already leaving the room.

Maybe if Tarkin wasn’t so blinded by his hatred for the other man he would see the subtle shift in Vader’s posture, one of uncertainty and distrust. Maybe he would have also noticed the way Frankenstein narrowed his eyes at his back, his fingers twitching at his sides in anticipation of things to come. But Wilhuff didn’t, because he was too busy seething at the other’s blatant display of interest towards his lover when everyone knew that Vader was involved with him.

After walking in silence for some time, the two men stopped in an empty corridor, one situated far away from the usual buzz of the battle station. Tarkin turned around sharply to face the Doctor, glaring at him, willing him to submit and cover before him just from his stare alone. But the other man didn’t seem fazed by the Moff’s anger, in fact, he seemed amused by it.

“What was it that you wished to talk about that clearly needed such secluded location for its secrecy?” Asked Victor, that damned smirk never leaving his face.

Wilhuff huffed in irritation at the complete disregard towards his threatening expression from the man. When he spoke next, his voice was so cold it could cut like ice.

“You are not a stupid man Frankenstein, so I will assume you know about the relationship between Lord Vader and I. And I will ask you to stop whatever you are trying to do, unless you want to feel what it’s like to anger the Grand Moff of the Empire and a Tarkin.”

Victor’s smirk fell off his face for a moment and he looked at the older man with curiosity. He titled his head to the side a little, his blue eyes shining in understanding and then darkening visibly as his lips once more stretched into a smile. Before Tarkin could say anything, the younger man started laughing, almost hysterically.

Has he lost his mind completely? Thought Wilhuff, feeling his anger and irritation rising, making his blood boil.

“What is so funny to you, if I may ask?” He spat out.

Victor’s eyes looked at him for a short moment and he laughed even harder.

“You are!” He managed to wheeze out.

It was as if something overtook him. Tarkin prided himself on his self-control, on his grip over his emotions and behavior. But the way the Doctor was laughing at him and disregarding him as a potential threat just caused some strange power to fill him. In mere moments Wilhuff Tarkin had his hands wrapped tightly around the slender neck of the other, the laughter turning into choking sounds.

“How dare you?! Vader belongs to ME and you will not disrespect me like this on my own battle station!” Snarled Wilhuff, his eyes a blazing ice storm.

Victor tried to free himself, his eyes watering a littler when the Grand Moff’s grip became harder. He gazed at the younger man with no mercy, enjoying the feeling of his breath escaping him, of the way the neck contracted as it tried to fill the body with much needed air.

But after a moment of seeing this struggle he became bored, his anger simmering down a little. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. Victor coughed, but instead of begging for mercy or apologizing, he actually smiled lazily, his eyes half lidded and dark as he looked at Tarkin.

“Ah, you should have told me you were into this kind of fun. You are, after all, not the first one to choke me.” He said, his voice suddenly an octave lower and raspy.

Before Wilhuff could do anything, Victor somehow managed to escape his grip and push him backwards. The older man fell against the corridor’s wall with a painful thud, feeling another body follow right after him. Frankenstein pinned the other man to the flat surface, catching his arms to keep them at Tarkin’s sides, plastering his bottom parts against the older man’s.

“Oh Wilhuff, how silly of you. It wasn’t that pet monster of yours that I was after.” Breathed out Victor, a mad glint in his eyes.

Tarkin’s eyes widened in uncontrolled shock. This was not something he took into consideration, too blinded by his own jealousy. But now that he gazed at the other, it was clear Victor was aroused. He could feel the hardness against his body, the slight sway of Frankenstein’s hips against his own.

“Why…” He started, but words left him.

The Doctor smirked, leaning forward and kissing Tarkin on the neck, inhaling his scent greedily.

“Oh Wilhuff. It is so obvious. How could I not fall for myself, the most perfect creature in any Universe?”

Tarkin wanted to answer, say something, protest over what was happening. He didn’t get a chance. Demanding lips slammed against his own, forcing his mouth open. Victor groaned as his hips began to move more insistently against Wilhuff’s, the Grand Moff feeling mortified when his body started to respond. But there was something strange, something just… right about the way their lips and bodies fit together; like they were made for each other. Tarkin felt himself moan as Victor bit on his lower lip, pulling it slightly. He parted them for a moment, but they were still so close that their breaths became one.

“I cannot wait to get you into bed.” Panted out Frankenstein darkly and with a voice full of promises.

He didn’t give Wilhuff time to respond or recover, diving right back in and continuing to ravish the older man against the wall.