Pairing: Valorum/Mace
Rating: R
Summary: The Chancellor's comforting continues
Events are moving too quickly. Forces are in motion here that we are unable to comprehend let alone understand. Already there have been losses and I cannot shake the feeling that there will be more to come.
The guards note my approach but do not attempt to block my path. My presence here is accepted and, so they have come to understand, expected. They maintain their silent vigil, turning their attention back to the empty corridor as my palm print keys the lock, acknowledging the fact that I am still welcome here.
A sudden stab of pain as my heart constricts at my first sight of him, a solitary sentinel at the window staring out over the darkened skyline, his posture perfect, unbowed by today's events. Others may be fooled by this display, but I am not, I know him far too well to be deceived by the act.
Stopping only to fill a goblet with the harsh Corellian brandy I brought with me from the Temple, I move behind him, wrapping my arms around him. A small shudder, then the tension leaves him and he relaxes back against me, accepting the meager comfort I offer as well as the glass I press into his hand.
Patience is one of my strengths and I wait while he drains the goblet, the harsh taste drawing a choked gasp from his lips. Now is the time for words, but my normal eloquence deserts me. How do you comfort someone who has lost everything?
"They do not know what they have done."
A soft laugh greets this pronouncement. "Of course they do my friend, does the Senate ever do anything on a whim?"
Never have I known him to be cynical, not even in the face of all the maneuverings and posturings his position forced him to endure. Time and responsibility have bleached the sleek midnight shading from his hair and etched deep grooves on his aristocratic features but his faith in the Republic has remained undimmed. I frown, not wanting to lose this last poignant reminder of our youth.
"Queen Amidala has gone back to Naboo."
"May the Force be with her. I wish her luck in regaining control of her planet."
His answer comes as no surprise to me and I need not search his azure eyes as he turns to look at me to see the truth in the words he speaks. Finis is not a man to hold onto grudges or anger. I think again that he would have made a fine Jedi if only he had been allowed the training - a fine Jedi or a truly skilled mind-healer, as he has a way of seeing into the heart of what troubles people.
If only he had listened to his own instincts in this matter . . .
Pain claws at me. Pain for his loss, pain for the fact that I can do nothing to aid him. "Finis . . ."
"Can we talk about it later? Once I've gotten my equilibrium back?" As he speaks, his hand caresses my cheek, the tremor ghosting through it small enough as to go unnoticed except for someone who is looking for it as I am.
I nod, the movement rubbing my face against the short brush of his silvery hair, then place a soft, chaste kiss on his temple. Council member I may be, thought to be all-knowing by the initiates and Padawans, but in truth I feel as lost in this as any trainee. It is too close, too near to my own heart, straining my control to the limits. Revenge is one of the many paths to the Dark Side but I allow the momentary thought of what I would like to do to the Trade Federation before allowing my gathering anger to dissipate, something I have much practice at.
He turns fully and our arms close about one another as our lips fit together, the movements meshing smoothly, the ease of years of practice overriding the tension of the moment. I can feel his desperate hunger, feel my own growing in response. We both need this, to lose ourselves in the one we love, to feel the clean fire of the passion that burns between us even after this long together.
The move to his bedroom is made more perilous by the push of his hands at my robe, the tug of his fingers at my belt and the many layers of my tunics. Reaching the bed I stand passively, allowing him to take control, to dictate the terms of this coming together - considering all that has occurred today we both know he needs to feel this modicum of authority.
Once my clothes are gone I begin to work on his, reverently removing the blue sash of his office, realizing as I do that this is the last time I will perform this act. The badge is not him, cannot begin to define who Finis Valorum is and what he means to me, but still the moment deserves to be treated respectfully.
A soft growl of impatience echoes in the air and his hands are under mine, tossing aside his garments and urging me back onto the bed. The long, elegant lines of his body cover mine, pale skin standing out in stark relief against my darker tones. His mouth descends on mine again, tasting, invading, devouring as his hands slide up to cradle my head, stroking my scalp behind my ears, finding the spots that make me moan and writhe under him.
Force I want him, I need him. He drives thoughts of all else from my mind. For the moment there is no crisis on Naboo, there is no possibility of the boy being the Chosen One, there is no upheaval in the Senate. There are simply two men: Finis Valorum and Mace Windu - friends, lovers, soulmates - renewing the bond that was forged long ago, that time and distance has not dimmed.
His eyes are midnight dark, a stark contrast to their normal electric blue, and I know what is to come. He will have me and somewhere in the midst of our joining we will lose track of where one ends and the other begins, consumed by the overpowering rightness that surrounds us.
Fingers pressing into me, cool with oil. I have to blink at that - have I been so distracted that I missed him reaching for the bottle kept in the bedside table? It must be so . . . The thought shatters, casting crystalline shards to the winds as his fingers are replaced by the slick, throbbing length of his shaft filling me, renewing me, remaking me into the person I should be, a person who is one with the Force, who believes anything is possible.
"Finis . . ." A ragged whisper as his hand closes around my cock, stroking it in time to the pace of his thrusts, the synchronous movement sending the clean ache of desire rocketing through me, taut nerves plucked like harp strings under his knowing fingers.
"Live in the moment, Mace," he breathes back, repeating my oft-stated axiom as he drives deeper. His possession bring me to the brink of madness time and again before finally allowing me to tumble into the abyss. He follows close behind, our ragged cries ringing in the cool, sterile air of the suite.
It is never enough but it is all we have . . . all we had - if he is no longer Chancellor, perhaps now there can be more.
Mentally and physically exhausted, he collapses on top of me, on the left side as always, even in this state of mind, making it easy for me to reach my lightsaber if necessary. "Sleep Finis," I murmur, stroking his back and face, soothing him with my touch and that of the Force. "There will be time for talking later, rest now."
A low mutter of agreement and he is asleep, the lines of tension easing somewhat but never quite disappearing, reminding me once again of the burden he carries. We will talk later. I will not let him dwell on what has happened. He is still needed, there is still much good he can do and most of all - I need him.