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In The End, We All Want The Same Thing

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When Sheev called him into the throne room he expected a private meeting. Which was why he gazed at the other men in the room with clear question in his eyes, until they landed on his husband. Tarkin was sure that the Sith could see his clear displeasure at this unexpected surprise, but it seemed to amuse the other more than have the desired effect of chastising the Emperor.

“Wilhuff, my dear. You are finally here.” Said Sheev lightly, getting up from his throne and slowly walking down the steps that led up to it.

Tarkin hummed unhappily as he narrowed his eyes at the other, completely ignoring the others. Although, their presence confused him. He could understand why Lord Vader would be in the room, the loyal dog that he was, kriff, even Thrawn made sense. But the Royal Consort could not see why Piett and Motti were here, and especially why was that good for nothing Krennic allowed in the presence of his husband. If he remembered correctly, Sheev sneered in disgust at the very idea of the Director, yet for some reason kept him around. Probably because he was the only one who got under Erso’s skin.

“May I ask what this is about?” He said icily, not holding back his feelings about the situation.

His silver Consort robes rustled a little as he moved in place restlessly, seeing the answering smile on Sheev’s face as he kept walking towards him. His husband was up to something and Tarkin wasn’t sure if he was going to like it or not. Especially when the Sith’s eyes started to bleed from blue into golden.

“Wilhuff… Remember when we spoke about rewarding those most loyal to us in more… carnal ways?” Asked the Emperor as he finally stopped before his Consort.

Tarkin raised his eyebrows in surprise. Of course he remembered the conversation, but believed Sheev to be jesting at the time. Yet, the clear hunger and excitement in his lover’s eyes and their golden hue spoke differently. Suddenly, Wilhuff could feel the heavy gazes of the other men in the room, boring into him with heat and intensity. He gazed out of the corner of his eye at Krennic, who was to his right side, standing next to Vader’s imposing figure. The Director was not hiding his arousal, blue eyes half lidded lazily, their color so dark that they almost appeared black. He was biting his pouty lips in anticipation, making them shiny and red, his hands opening and closing into fists at his sides. The Sith next to him, despite having his face hidden, was also very obvious in his feelings about whatever was going to happen, his raspy breath much louder and faster than usually. He didn’t have his lightsaber on him, which confused Tarkin, but when he thought about why Vader was here, he could understand why Sheev would take away the unstable Sith’s weapon. This of course only made him feel more nervous instead of calming him down.

Wilhuff turned back sharply to the Emperor, glaring at him with anger.

“You could have warned me! I did not agree to this!” He hissed at the other, trying not to let his panic show.

Sheev chuckled in response, reaching to cup his Consort’s face in his hands. He brought their faces closer, making Tarkin lean a little forward to accommodate the shorter man.

“My dear, did you not swear to give me anything I asked for? Anything the Empire would need?” He questioned softly, one of his hands caressing the other’s sharp cheek.

Wilhuff inhaled sharply at those words, shaking a little. His breathing picked up as he looked at Sheev pleadingly, hoping his husband would not play this card against him.

“…Yes.” He breathed out in a whisper.

Palpatine seemed to have felt his panic and worry in the Force, because his gaze became gentle and one of his hands moved to Tarkin’s waist, circling it and bringing him flush to the Emperor. Wilhuff could feel the beating of Sheev’s heart against his and the constant thumps slowly managed to calm him down slightly.

“Oh my dear, do not worry. I am not going to pass you around like some common whore. No, I will be the only one allowed to claim you, always and forever. Remember that.” Whispered the Emperor, moving his lips closer to Tarkin’s so their breaths intermingled when he spoke.

The Consort nodded, calmed a little.

“But I still do not understand…” He said with suspicion coloring his voice, not putting it past his husband to have something hidden up his sleeve.

Tarkin gazed meaningfully at the other men in the room, as silent as when he entered. Palpatine looked at them for a moment, slightly dismissive in the movement.

“Well, you see… To rise morale amongst our most loyal, I promised them a reward in the way of carnal pleasures. The problem was that they did not want some random person to warm their bed. Instead, they seemed to have come to an agreement and requested something far more… unavailable. I will be honest, at first I was ready to just cut all of them down where they stood, but then I thought that the idea had its merits. I mean, we have not done something like that yet and I believed this to be a great opportunity for us to do that and in a safe, loyal environment.”

Tarkin blinked at Sheev’s words in confusion.

“What did they ask for?”

The Emperor’s eyes ignited at the question, the golden fire burning.

“They wished to see me take you, while they take care of their own needs by themselves. A voyeuristic orgy if you wish for me to be crude about it. With one little exception, an honor I would not allow just anyone. Admiral Motti will be allowed to give you pleasure while I claim you. He seems to be fixated on doing that, so why stop him from giving you the worship you deserve?” Answered Palpatine, his voice dark and full of desire.

Wilhuff’s brain stopped working for a moment, a bland  static replacing his thoughts. He blinked a few times, as if trying to wake up. Then he gazed into his husband’s eyes and could see that whatever happened, Sheev would protect him. With a resigned sigh, Tarkin nodded to himself. He trusted his husband, his Emperor, with his whole being, and if this was what he wanted, then Wilhuff would give it to him gladly.

And he had to admit, the idea itself did not sound half bad.

“Well then, husband. Why don’t you show them how it’s done?” He said lowly and smiled softly.

Tarkin moved his arms around Sheev, joining his hands behind his neck, which brought them even closer. He was still shaking a little, but this time in anticipation of things to come, realizing he was in fact excited for others seeing the Emperor fucking him in front of them. The shorter Sith looked up at his Consort with a satisfied smirk, his eyes flashing in content at clearly hearing the other’s thoughts.

“My dearest Wilhuff… I knew you would not disappoint.” He growled in pleasure as he surged forward to kiss hungrily the thin lips that have been teasing him since his Consort walked into the room.

 

***

 

Krennic looked longingly at the image in front of him, feeling himself sweat from the heat he was experiencing. The Emperor was sitting in his throne, still clothed, only his erection uncovered. His dark, pitch black robes contrasted so beautifully with Tarkin’s pale skin and his silver clothing. Palpatine looked like a black hole that was trying to swallow a moon and steal its pretty light for itself. The Consort was bouncing on the man’s cock, his head thrown back, lean neck exposed, making Krennic wish he could suck on it, leave red, blooming marks all over the empty canvas. Orson bit his lip hard, feeling blood well up and fill his mouth, as Tarkin moaned shamelessly, begging for his husband to move faster, to fill him, claim him. It was as if the usually reserved, cold man lost all inhibitions. The Director imagined himself in Palpatine’s place, telling the Royal Consort how good he looked on his cock, how he was made to be fucked. He lamented over the fact that he could not see more of Wilhuff’s naked skin, his flowing robes still covering so much despite his naked, long legs being exposed. Oh, what would Krennic give to have them thrown over his shoulders as he fucked fast and hard into the older man, dominating him completely. He licked his lips hungrily, watching the clear outline of Tarkin’s own erection under his clothing.

“He is exquisite, isn’t he?” Rasped a voice next to him.

Krennic almost forgot about Lord Vader and he turned with burning cheeks towards the other man that he wanted to get close to. With the Sith, however, it was slightly different. While he wanted to see the usually dismissive and cold Consort beg him on his knees for his cock, with Vader he was the one who would gladly drop before the other man. It was almost close to a hero worship and he knew that people joked around about him parroting the Dark Lord’s look with his cape. But Orson didn’t care, as long as the Sith would notice him.

“He truly is…” Answered the Director, but he wasn’t talking only about Tarkin.

Vader chuckled, reading the man’s thoughts about himself. He found the adoration Krennic had for him strange and could not understand where it came from, but the fact that someone wanted him while he was in this monstrous form was enough to make him interested.

“I knew him when he was younger, you know. Back when he was simply Captain Tarkin. Irritated everyone around him.” Spoke Vader as he too watched the way perspiration built on pale skin, long legs trembling from pleasure, toes curling.

This caught Krennic’s attention. Unconsciously, he moved closer towards the Sith.

“What was he like?” He breathed out, his excitement at the new information about the Consort only making his blood run hotter.

Vader himself moved closer. They came here for a reason, after all, and he was not about to lose this opportunity to have a nostalgic talk about his boyish crush on Wilhuff, back in the day. His big, gloved hand reached towards Krennic’s face, a thick thumb tracing the bloodied lip slowly, making Orson hiss a little in discomfort at the pain.

“Hmmm… How about I tell you all you want to know about Wilhuff’s younger days after you show me how much you will appreciate getting this information?” He rumbled lowly, watching Krennic’s cheeks become even redder, his eyes turning almost black in arousal.

“My Lord… What do you wish of me?” Panted out the Director.

“Turn around.” Said Vader simply.

Krennic had to be honest with himself, he was a little unsure about turning his back on the Sith Lord. But he knew that they all were here for the same reasons and the was Tarkin and getting rid of pent up, sexual frustration that he was causing all of them to experience. So slowly, Orson turned back around to look once more at the Emperor and his Consort. Palpatine was now moving faster and Wilhuff’s groans turned into whines of pleasure. The Sith Lord was clearly giving it all he had, because he pounded into the other man with abandon, almost bending him forward to fold in half. Krennic caught sight of Motti standing next to the throne, his cock hard in his hand as he pumped it along with the thrusts rocking Tarkin’s body. Lucky bastard, to be allowed so close to the object of all their desires.

“Keep looking at him.” He heard Vader whisper in his ear.

Orson almost jumped when his cape was unclasped and it pooled on the floor behind him. His breathing quickened as Vader’s big, strong arms reached around his waist from behind and started to unbuckle his pants. Krennic wanted to turn his head around, to say something, but he felt that he could not move it. The Director shivered when he realized he was under the Sith’s Force hold.

“No. Keep looking at him. He is the reason why we are both here tonight.” Growled Vader as his fingers finally managed to loosen Krennic’s pants and let them entangle themselves around Orson’s ankles.

Krennic’s breath shuttered as he felt the cold air on his now bare skin, but he listened to the other and his gaze moved back to the Consort.

“P-Please!” He heard Tarkin stutter as he fell once more upon the Emperor’s cock.

“You would like to hear him beg for you like this, wouldn’t you?” Questioned Vader darkly as his hands now moved to ridding Orson of his underwear.

The Director nodded furiously, feeling his hardness swell with blood, his body becoming taut with desire.

“You want to touch him so badly, to see if his skin is as soft as you imagined.” Continued the Sith as Krennic’s underwear joined the mess around his feet.

Orson watched with wide eyes as Tarkin reached behind for Palpatine’s hand, grasping it with desperation, as if he wanted to anchor himself to reality somehow. His own hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms so hard that they broke skin, little rivers of blood following. Krennic let Vader’s words wash over him, let them make his blood boil with lust. His low, raspy voice, combined with the sounds Wilhuff was making, proved to be enough stimulation so far. So he didn’t protest in any way when the Dark Lord bent him a little forward and he felt a slick, leather clad finger rubbing at his hole. Krennic didn’t even question when and from where Vader got the lubrication, he just needed the other to do something so the ache he was feeling while watching the Consort would fade at least a little. He groaned in appreciation as the thick finger breached him slightly. Orson could feel the hitch in Vader’s breath, the way the arm around his waist tightened, digging into his soft stomach slightly.

“I know what it’s like…” Started Vader as his finger finally breached Orson’s hole.

“…to fuck him.” Finished the Sith, making Krennic moan loudly at both the image his mind produced at those words and the feelings that accompanied them.

There was jealousy of course, but he also felt a rush of desire, thinking of a younger, even more beautiful Wilhuff being taken by someone like Lord Vader. How perfect they must have looked, entangled together, Tarkin with his Sith beast. Did Vader pound into the other restlessly, did he growl like an animal in heat, wanting to claim, to own?

“He was so pretty back then, with his auburn hair and those clear, blue eyes… Just begging to be taken.” Rasped out Vader as his finger started to slowly stretch Krennic.

The Director gasped at the sensation and looked at Tarkin, imagining him in a way Vader described. He felt saliva fill his mouth as he thought of how good the Consort would have looked with a mop of fiery tresses, his big eyes gazing up at Krennic as he sucked him off, Orson’s hand gripping his hair tightly.

“Wilhuff… He used to beg me so prettily, to fill his hungry hole up, like a two credit whore.” Growled the Sith as he started to move the finger faster.

Orson felt his knees buckle slightly as waves of pleasure hit him, latching onto Vader’s arm around his waist so he wouldn’t fall. He didn’t even realize the Force hold was gone, he was so lost in the sensations, his eyes glued to Tarkin who was clearly nearing his end. The Consort’s grey eyes were hazed over in lust and he was much louder than before.

“Sheev, please!”

That name… It didn’t fit with Krennic’s little fantasy. But before he could think too much about it, Vader’s finger finally reached his sweet spot and he kneed like a wounded animal at the shot of pure pleasure.

Vader smirked under his mask at Orson’s reaction, but the whole time he was teasing the man, basically fucking him with only one finger, he wasn’t even looking at him. No, the Sith’s focus was completely reserved for the Consort. He was not lying when he told Krennic about being in a relationship with Tarkin. It was long ago, way back in the past. He was completely taken with the Captain and was ready to do anything for him. Their relationship, sadly, was short, but full of mind blowing sex and mutual pleasure. But then his Master set his sights on Wilhuff. He slowly seduced the man away from him and before Vader knew it, Tarkin was bonded with Palpatine.

“For a time… He was only MINE.” Snarled the Sith angrily, his movements becoming harsher.

Of course Krennic didn’t notice, too lost in the pleasure he was feeling. He seemed to have forgotten why he was even here, because soon he was begging Vader, instead of focusing on Tarkin.

“Please, my Lord! Please!”

Vader smiled bitterly under his mask at the pleas, imagining it was someone else he had in his arms right now, begging for him.

“Don’t worry… I will give you what you need.” He promised darkly, his gaze never leaving the pair on the throne.

And one day… One day I will be given what I want. He thought as he watched Tarkin come with a breathless scream, slumping back against the Emperor and trying to catch his breath.

He was still so painfully beautiful, even in the arms of another.

 

***

 

Firmus has no idea how he managed to end up in the throne room that night, with Grand Admiral Thrawn standing at his side. When the Emperor spoke about the carnal reward for his loyalty, Lord Vader was in the room with them. Before Piett could say anything, the younger Sith asked Palpatine if he could speak with him first. The whole situation seemed to amuse the man enough and he agreed.

“I know what you want, deep down Firmus. Because we want the same thing.” Rasped out the Dark Lord.

This led to Firmus joining the group of men who seemed to be in the same boat as him – they were to be rewarded, but the one thing they truly wanted seemed to be out of reach.

It was Grand Admiral Thrawn that came up with the bold idea. At first Piett thought he was joking, but then suddenly they were all in the throne room, kneeling before the Emperor and asking to see him fucking his husband. Firmus remembered the fear he felt as he saw the Sith’s eyes bleed into red, his lightsaber suddenly ignited as he prepared to just execute them on the spot. But then Lord Vader intervened and started speaking about morale and how this would prove to them that Palpatine’s interest was in the Empire and its people. Whether the Emperor believed the completely made up reasons Vader came up with, they seemed to have intrigued the other enough to agree.

“My, it seems that the Sith dog is already in heat and the Emperor hasn’t even begun to wreck his husband yet.” Said Thrawn in that calm drawl of his.

Firmus didn’t look at him, too caught up in watching as Palpatine was slowly taking off Tarkin’s clothes, the silver pooling to the floor to reveal more pale skin. There was a clear outline of already dried come on the Consort’s body and Piett licked his lips at the image. But he did see out of the corner of his eye as Lord Vader pounded into Director Krennic with some kind of dark need he was clearly getting rid of. He shuddered, thinking that this animalistic lust the Sith was expressing was directed at Tarkin, only the stars knowing what Vader would do if he actually got his hands on Wilhuff.

“Such lack of finesse. It is good that the Emperor didn’t allow him anywhere near his Consort.” Commented Thrawn.

Piett hummed in agreement, feeling a little hot under his collar as he saw Palpatine manhandling Tarkin around so he was sitting with his face towards him. The Sith Lord grabbed the back of the other’s neck harshly as he forced their lips together, kissing his Consort hungrily. He let go after a moment and said something to Tarkin, a whisper too quiet to be heard. Wilhuff, who already seemed a little tired out, suddenly gasped, and Firmus watched in shock as his limp cock hardened once more. It was impossible for a man Tarkin’s age to have such stamina, there was no way…

“Ah, the Sith and their little tricks. I have to admit, if I weren’t a Chiss, I would be jealous.”

At this statement, Piett finally turned to the Grand Admiral with a raised eyebrow.

“And why is that?” He questioned.

Thrawn smirked, his red eyes glowing. They were making Firmus feel uneasy, how alien they looked, yet, at the same time he felt drawn to their gleam. He did have a strange kink for danger it seemed. Or maybe it was just dangerous men that he shouldn’t be getting involved with?

“Simple, really. Chiss are well known for their stamina. We can go on for hours, some even days.” He answered calmly, accenting the last word with purpose.

Despite himself, Piett shuddered at the tone. He was well aware of the danger Thrawn posed and any other man would have submitted. But not Firmus. No, the Admiral already had his fair share of dangerous adventures in life, including working for Lord Vader.

“I see the sight excites you Admiral. Would you like me to help you with that?” Said the Chiss out of nowhere.

Piett was about to protest, but Thrawn was already moving, his arms winding around the shorter man and bringing them flush together. Firmus could feel how hard the Grand Admiral was, his impressive erection rubbing against his ass. He could only imagine what the alien cock looked like under the pristine uniform. Piett held his breath as blue fingers made quick work of his pants, pulling out his own hardness.

Thrawn’s hands were cold, inhumanly so. It made Firmus moan in relief when they wrapped in a sure grip around his heated skin.

“You do not waste time, do you?” He asked snidely.

Thrawn hummed in response, his hand starting to move slowly over Piett’s cock.

The Chiss had to admit, he did not particularly care for the Admiral. He was only here for the Consort, like all of them. Well, maybe except Krennic, if his loud screams for Vader to fuck him harder were anything to go by.

But speaking of the man he was here for… Thrawn of course imagined what Tarkin would look like in throes of passion, naked as the day he was born, all pale expanses of skin and long limbs. But he was not prepared for the real thing, his eyes widening and gleaming as he saw Wilhuff moaning like an animal in heat, clinging to the Emperor like a man drowning. Thrawn could smell him even all the way over where he stood, his arousal, the smell of perspiration, strangely mixed with lavender and the smell of fresh linen. It made his nostrils flare as he inhaled greedily Tarkin’s natural musk. The Chiss felt his own nature respond to the potentiality of a mate with such attractive scent, screaming to the beast inside him to conquer and show of his prowess to Wilhuff. But he held it at bay. Thrawn wasn’t stupid. He knew that this was as far as he would get with the Consort, unless Tarkin suddenly decided to betray his husband, which wasn’t happening very soon from what he could see, if ever.

“A-ah, why are you even here? Don’t you have a lover of your own?” Managed to pant out Firmus as the other’s grip on his erection tightened.

Thrawn didn’t show any reaction to his jab, continuing to pump his cock. Or maybe he did, because Piett groaned as a sharp nail dug slightly into his head, forcing pre-cum to come out.

“Maximilian knows I’m here.” Answered the Chiss lightly.

Piett chuckled as he bucked into the hand moving over him, wanting to feel more friction, Thrawn answering his movement right away, speeding up his hand. He closed his eyes halfway and looked once more at the Consort. The Emperor was now kissing all over Tarkin’s naked chest, leaving behind a trail of pink marks, making his husband moan in pleasure softly. Palpatine was still inside Wilhuff, moving slowly, as if wanting to draw out the whole thing and torture the other into orgasm with his gentle love making. Firmus groaned when he saw the Sith latch onto one pert nipple, sucking on it, his gaze looking up to watch his husband writhing in need and panting. Tarkin’s hands moved into Palpatine’s white hair, grasping and threading through it and bringing his body closer.

“S-sheev… Yes, like this, please…” Moaned out the Consort.

“I never imagined him to be like this. I expected Wilhuff to be much more… reserved during sex.” Spoke Thrawn, his voice betraying the excitement his was feeling.

Firmus felt the Chiss rub against him insistently. He could also feel the wetness against his pants, making it clear that the other man was not unmoved by the spectacle before them, or at least much more than he let on. Piett wondered when he started to also lust after their Emperor’s husband, like the men around him. His gaze moved to Lord Vader for a moment and he realized it all began with the Sith. It was Vader that kept raging about the shameless display of affection between the Imperial pair. It was also Lord Vader that kept watching holo-vids of Tarkin at different functions in his rich robes, smiling politely at everyone, as the Sith traced the outline of the man with his hands obsessively. This was why Firmus started to pay closer attention to the Consort than before and soon found himself drawn to the icy eyes and spidery fingers, imagining them gripping his bed sheets as Wilhuff rode him, telling him what a great Admiral he was, praising him. Despite this, Piett was aware that his sudden attraction to Tarkin could be found strange, but then, when your superior talks about nothing but the man in question, then who could blame him?

“Hmmm…” Hummed Thrawn as he lay a kiss against Piett’s bared neck, making the man gasp slightly.

But Firmus wasn’t about the let the Chiss off so easily. Why was he here if he had a lover already?

“Does Veers really know you want to fuck another man? The Emperor’s Consort out of all the people?” He pressed, wanting to hear the real answer, some emotion breaking in Thrawn’s always smooth voice.

The hand on his cock tightened painfully in warning. Piett groaned in pain, but also in pleasure. It wasn’t a well-known fact (and he would like to keep it that way), but the Admiral enjoyed a little rough treatment in bed when he was on the receiving end of it. He wondered what would it take to get the usually controlled alien to snap.

“Maximilian knows that there is no way I will ever be able to begin any kind of relationship with the Consort, so he is secure in our own bond. Besides, I am not the one who cannot decide who he wants. After all, it’s no secret that you are Vader’s little fucktoy.” Grumbled Thrawn lowly, clearly a little irritated due to Firmus’ question.

The Admiral felt heat rise to his cheeks. He knew about the rumors of course, but they were just that – gossip of bored Imperials. With how focused on Tarkin Vader was, the man seemed to be incapable of approaching anyone else for sexual favors. Besides, Firmus felt nothing more but respect and admiration for the Sith Lord as his superior. The idea that everyone thought he got on his knees before the man every night actually angered him. It devalued him as an Admiral and his work for the Empire.

“Lord Vader is not interested in his Officers.” Answered Piett curtly.

Thrawn chuckled lowly. He lapped at the sweat on Firmus’ neck with his tongue, tasting the salt and the furious energy coming from the man. It was making him even more excited.

“Did I struck a nerve, Admiral?” He asked, smirking against the heated skin.

His gaze moved back towards the throne and widened in arousal. Palpatine had Wilhuff lean into him now, spreading his cheeks wide with his hands so he could move deeper into his husband. Tarkin had his face buried in the man’s hair, shuddering from the amount of pleasure and overstimulation he was feeling as the Emperor pumped into him. The Chiss could see the Sith’s cock disappearing into the other’s tight hole and he growled at the, completely consumed by lust, his eyes two crimson points. It would feel so good to fill Tarkin with his cum, make him smell like him. Thrawn knew that even humans could smell the scenting mark of a Chiss, Max complained about it often enough. Oh it would be delicious to just let Wilhuff walk around with his claim on him felt by everyone around him. To chain such creature as Tarkin to himself… It was truly tempting.

“Oh? So I understand you don’t mind your dearest Max sleeping around with Needa then? Since you are both so open about your relationship?” Snarled Firmus as he bucked into the tight hold, feeling himself coming closer to his peak.

Just a little more, just a little rougher…

Thrawn suddenly stopped moving altogether. Piett could feel the firm, taut body against him, waiting for the Chiss to finally let go. He did not expect the hand coming up to his neck, like a viper striking, grabbing it to tightly, cutting off his air supply.

“What did you say?” Spoke the Grand Admiral in a cold whisper.

Firmus smirked, enjoying the danger. He was so close.

“That Maximillian Veers lets Lorth Needa fuck him like a whore. The whole Officers’ block can hear them.” Wheezed out the Admiral.

Thrawn growled in fury, his hold on both Piett’s cock and neck tightening painfully, and Firmus felt himself come, smirking in triumph as he felt the Chiss’ hold on him loosen in shock.

He knew he was about to get the fucking of his life and probably wouldn’t be able to walk for days.

But it was totally worth it.

 

***

 

“Wilhuff… You are doing so good my dear. You have no idea how much pent up sexual energy is swirling around this room. It’s… fascinating.” Murmured Palpatine as his golden gaze took in his Consort.

Tarkin was breathing heavily, slumped against Palpatine after his second orgasm that night. He simply groaned in response, moving closer to his husband, nestling his face between Sheev’s neck and shoulder. He was tired and sated, and just wanted to snuggle with the other and go to sleep. Preferably for a few days. He was no longer as young as he used to be, and even with the Sith’s Force tricks he had his limits.

“Now my beautiful Consort. There is one last thing on the menu tonight. Please, turn around for me dear.” Said Sheev softly, caressing Tarkin’s back.

Wilhuff tried to move, but he simply had no more energy left. The man chuckled weakly.

“I suppose you will have to help me a little if you want anything else from me tonight, my husband. I seem to have reached my limit.” He spoke, his throat a little raw from all the sounds he made before.

Palpatine smiled, lifting Wilhuff’s face with his hands and kissing him. It was soft and lazy, their mouths simply mashing together with no real purpose behind it, just enjoying each other. When they broke apart the Emperor’s eyes were shining with adoration.

“But of course.” He said.

Before Tarkin knew what was happening, he was once more being turned around, still impaled on Palpatine’s cock. The Sith had yet to come. It always impressed Wilhuff how long he could go at his age. Damned Force users.

“Admiral Motti, please, come closer.” Purred out Palpatine dangerously.

Conan felt his throat close up as he walked in front of the throne, both from fear and the elation he felt at what was happening. He could not believe he was looking at the man he dreamed about since he first saw him, all naked and fucked out before him, covered in his own come, his eyes lazily looking up at him. Motti swallowed, his cock hard and heavy, ready to burst at the simplest touch. Without a word from the Emperor he fell to his knees before the Imperial pair. Palpatine let out a pleased hum at the action and Conan felt pride flutter in his chest at doing something right.

“Conan here has been one of the most loyal in the Empire. Especially when it comes to your protection my dear. Will you allow him the honor of giving you pleasure?” Asked Sheev, his lips on Tarkin’s ear, but his eyes focused sharply on the man before them.

Wilhuff looked at the Admiral in thought. Could the man even do it? Get him hard again after he already came two times?

“Is this what you want to see, my husband?” He asked instead, knowing it was the right thing to do when he felt Sheev smile against his skin.

“Oh yes, I would very much like to see it.” Said the Sith.

Tarkin nodded in understanding. With a trembling hand he beckoned Conan forward. The Admiral moved closer, still on his knees, his eyes keenly watching the Consort for any more directions. Wilhuff reached a hand forward and softly touched Motti’s cheek, caressing it slowly. Conant moaned out in pleasure, his eyes closing halfway. He had to bite his lips before any more sounds left him. Tarkin’s hand moved to his hair, threading through it, humming in thought. To the Admiral’s disappointment, he finally let go and leaned back into his husband, looking down at Motti expectantly.

“Well then? Show me how much you want me, Admiral.” Whispered Tarkin.

Motti didn’t waste any time. With a shaking hand he grabbed Wilhuff around the base of his cock, and thanks to all the come the man spilled tonight, when he moved it up and down the friction wasn’t unpleasant. While working, Conan was observing the man at all times, watching for small reactions, wanting to know everything about what the Consort enjoyed and what he disliked. He leaned even closer and blew on the head of Tarkin’s cock. This seemed to have a positive effect, because the older man gasped as if surprised by the action, the cold air on his heated skin causing something to awaken in him. Motti didn’t stop there, and right after he kissed the head reverently, still staring right into Wilhuff’s eyes. Tarkin’s breath shuttered when he saw the devotion in the other’s gaze, the desire and admiration.

“See how he worships you? He would do anything for you my dear.” Purred out Sheev in his ear.

Tarkin could only nod and groan as Conan went straight to swallowing his cock with his warm mouth, bobbing his head up and down slowly at first. It made him excited, seeing someone act like this for him. Palpatine did that too, but there was a difference between his husband and a man that was in no way attached to him. Yet, Motti seemed to be determined to give Tarkin the best blowjob of his life, as he let his tongue move around Wilhuff’s cock while it was inside his mouth. From time to time, he would let go of the organ completely and kiss it all over, as it were the most precious thing in the word. Then Conan would scrape his teeth against the head, sucking only on the tip, ‘causing the Consort to knee loudly.

The Admiral was drunk on pride swelling in his chest at being able to coax the already spent man back into hardness and force such delicious sounds out of him. He saw the way Tarkin moved sensually against the Emperor, coiling like a snake with his long, pale limbs. Motti felt his erection leaking, knowing that after such a long time of just pleasuring himself and watching, instead of touching, he wasn’t far from reaching his orgasm. But before he did that he wanted to see Wilhuff come undone from his mouth. He groaned around the cock in his mouth when he felt a hesitant and trembling hand moving to grip his hair lightly, pulling him forward to swallow deeper. The sound he made sent vibrations up Tarkin’s hardness and he gasped in pleasure, his eyes wide but hazed over.

“He is doing very good, isn’t he Wilhuff?” Questioned Palpatine, watching the happenings with certain level of amusement and lust.

The Consort nodded furiously and opened his mouth wide, trying to catch much needed air. The overstimulation was leaving breathless.

“Please Sheev… I-I’m so close!” He panted out, moving slightly his behind where the Emperor’s cock was still nestled, hoping to make the man do something.

Conan looked up at the plead, humming in pride, once more sending Tarkin into whimpers and moans as the vibrations traveled over his cock, coupled with the warm mouth and never stopping tongue. Motti could already taste him, the pre-cum leaving behind a salty flavor to remind him of his achievements. With his free hand he reached towards his own cock to stop himself from coming yet, determined to wait for Wilhuff to come first. His Emperor’s Consort was so beautiful and magnificent like this, completely becoming undone by carnal pleasures.

“I suppose I have teased you enough tonight my dear.” Hummed out Sheev.

Before the Admiral realized what was happening, Palpatine reached over Wilhuff with his hands and grabbed harshly at Motti’s hair. The grip tightened and without fanfare the Emperor forced Conan to take Tarkin all the way down to the base. At first the Admiral panicked, feeling himself choke. Tarkin was not the biggest he took, but the surprising move caught him unprepared. Still, he tried to calm down and loosen his throat.

“Come now Admiral. Give him everything.” Spoke Palpatine darkly as he started to somehow move both Wilhuff and Conan so the Consort was basically fucking the other’s mouth.

Motti felt tears escape his eyes a little at the discomfort, but at the same time he felt blessed. He didn’t care about the Emperor’s harsh grip, or the way he could barely breath. No, he was glad he could be of such use to the Consort, that he could be allowed to become his source of pleasure. And who knows, he dared to dream maybe Tarkin would one day come to him himself, to get a repeat of tonight.

“SHEEV!” Screamed Tarkin suddenly and the Admiral felt his mouth fill with come.

Wilhuff’s final orgasm must have also had a great impact, because the Emperor came with a groan, letting his head fall against his husband’s back as he whispered Tarkin’s name like a prayer. Motti too let go off his erection finally and groaned around the cock in his mouth in relief, tears running down his face as he came, white blocking out his vision for a moment.

He tried to move away, but Palpatine held his head in place, not letting him catch his breath.

“Swallow it all Admiral. You wouldn’t want to waste my Consort’s precious seed.” Growled out The Emperor.

Conan obediently swallowed everything he was given, and when he was finally allowed to let go, he gulped for air like a fish out of water. There was still some cum on his lips and chin, so he licked it off lazily, while gazing at the spent pair before him. Wilhuff looked like a boneless doll, covered in dried come and love bites, panting harshly, his chest rising and falling slower and slower as he came down from his high. Motti reached forward to touch him, wanting to caress the pale skin in front of him, but felt himself not being able to move. He looked in shock at the Emperor and saw him completely aware despite just coming himself, his arm holding his Consort tightly against his body. Red eyes glared at Conan with restrained anger and possessiveness.

“Now gentlemen that you have gotten what you came for… Get out and never again think about so much as looking at my Consort.” Whispered the Sith darkly, but he might as well have shouted.

The Admiral felt the hold on him loosen and he stood up immediately, gathering his clothes as fast as he could. He bowed shortly and basically run from the throne room, watching the rest of the occupants do the same.

Palpatine leaned back in his throne, caressing Wilhuff’s stomach. He could feel his come leaking out of his husband and it pleased him immensely, his visible claim on the man. Sheev kissed his still panting Consort on the neck, his eyes slowly turning from red to golden, then to their soft blue.

“My dear, dear Wilhuff. What a wonderful creature you are indeed.” He said more to himself than to his barely aware husband.

Oh yes, he was indeed, and he was all his.