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A Dark-Side Deal

For GlynWolf

By Draconicon

Coruscant was much the same as it had always been: hover-crafts, drones, and starships blotted the sky in all directions, interspersed with skyscrapers that pierced the heavens, and everything moved at a blistering pace. Even here in the upper city, stillness and peace were impossible to find. The dragon supposed it suited the capital of the New Republic; a still world made for a still mind.

Draconicon chuckled as he sipped his caf. Anyone wishing for such peace and quiet were fools. The end of that constant flow of people, news, and events would be the end of ideas and progress. The bubbling boiler pot of change would go still and everything useful and indulgent would sink to the bottom. To execute the tortured metaphor, chaos's end would be stasis's birth, and he would not enjoy that. No-one would.

The black dragon crossed one leg over the other, waiting for apartment owners to return. He glanced from the window-wall to the timepiece on his left. The holographic numbers declared it four in the afternoon. Not long now.

He drained the bitter drink, shaking his head as he put it aside. Sitting at the core of the galaxy, it was impossible to avoid comparisons between the New Republic and the Empire. Both ran rampant propaganda to justify themselves, and both proclaimed their virtues to the entire galaxy. One called for order, the other justice. One demanded for merit, the other acceptance. Tolerance versus discretion, peace versus expansion. Each had their merits, but at the end of the day, the New Republic was better, if only for their open-minded nature.

And their blindness to their real problems, he thought, shaking his head as he looked out the window once more. But that gives me an opportunity, doesn't it?

Draconicon chuckled. He had seen the Old Republic before Palpatine, and after, and he knew any change took time. The Emperor's Sith believed they understood patience, but they'd lacked his long view. The order of the Rule of Two had shattered itself, as he'd known it eventually would. It had been suited to hiding, not ruling, and when the time came, real power broke them.

The Republic had risen in its place, and was the best option so far. More open borders, more ideas, less static in their Senate: all key factors for someone else to inject their own ideals. The New Republic was an opportunity to mold the galaxy properly, and if the Sith Lord gained the right allies, his perfect galaxy would soon emerge.

That was why he was here, as a matter of fact.

Snikt.

Right on time.

The dragon gathered the Force to him. As always, the Dark Side warped to fit his passions, his lusts and desires, and he held back his sigh of pleasure as it raced through him like fire and lightning. It teased and pleased him, tempting him to indulge in the aphrodisiac-like effects that came with it. His body tingled with sensitivity, feeling the slightest waft of air in the apartment and every micro-gap under his feet. He was half-erect in seconds.

He ignored it, twisting the Force around him. The power of the Dark Side covered him in invisibility, no more than a ghost in the center of the room as the door opened.

Two Trandoshans stepped inside, one male, one female. The latter was the taller and better dressed of the two, her green scales tinted red around her scalp and along her snout, and possessed of blazing yellow eyes. She stomped in with a lip-curling snarl, bare feet stomping across the carpet and a hunter's dress swept behind her. No train, no skirt, but rather an angled skirt that curled down to a whip-like point, decorated with the pelts of former kills in tight braids down the side.

The male followed behind her, nearly half a head shorter and with a recent scar across one eye, was dressed as her assistant. His yellow scales had grayed around the eyes, as if ready to molt, but Draconicon knew the truth. He was stressed.

"You idiot!"

And for good reason. The female whipped around as soon as the door closed, looming over her companion. As the yellow-skinned male braced himself, she grabbed him by the throat. Draconicon was impressed that he could take it; the bulging strength in the Senator's arm was quite impressive, after all, and a smaller species would have had their neck broken rather than suffer strangulation.

"They blindsided me! Accusations about my - my competence! I thought you covered it up!"

"I did. I did," the male hissed.

"Not well enough! If it gets out - if they find out about - ugh!"

She threw him away. Yellow-scale thumped against the wall, grunting from the sudden impact and loss of air. Draconicon folded his hands over his lap, shaking his head at the display.

The Senator roared, raking her claws against the wall in uncontrolled rage. Every strike stripped the walls of metal chips, and ripped away more of her sanity. Draconicon could feel the anger that poured off her, each blow accompanied by a pulse of fury that would have made any other Sith proud to see.

Not him.

Not now.

He sighed as the Senator twisted, her eyes wild and burning in a frenzy she clearly no longer controlled. Her assistant froze in the middle of cleaning up after her, his eyes going wide as she screamed her battle cry.

The Senator leaped.

Yellow-scales flinched.

The dragon reached out.

"That will be quite enough of that," he said.

Both Trandoshans froze below the neck, her in the air and him on his knees. They turned to stare at him with varying degrees of understanding, but even the Senator looked shocked. Then again, she was the one floating off the ground like a decorative sculpture. She panted and hissed, all but feral in the moment.

"Mr. Sotch. Senator Sotch. Pardon me for inviting myself into your apartment, but I felt the desire to meet with you. Perhaps I can offer you some help with your little problem."

"There is no problem here, outsider," Mr. Sotch - or, to give him his full name, Shacruussk Sotch - hissed through clenched teeth. "My...wife and I -"

"Let's not pretend that things aren't desperate, Mr. Sotch. This is early Magrak Syndrome, after all."

The Senator's mouth opened in an angry wail, only to be cut off as the dragon pinched his fingers together. A touch of the Force cut off her air supply, and with it, all sound. She coughed, then wheezed, then rattled. He waited until she no longer fought before giving her air again, and she hung there, calm and quiet. Her husband stared for a moment, then narrowed his eyes.

"...How do you know about Tsivath's problem, outsider?"

"There are many things I know. Including how to handle it," Draconicon said, crossing one leg over the other. "Magrak Syndrome is a terrible fate for Trandoshans, is it not? Simple enough to define: a loss of control over all your aggressive instincts. Rage, aggression, uncontrolled ferocity: everything your enemies fear, and everything the Republic stands against. Your wife's sickness would give your enemies many opportunities, wouldn't it?"

"How did you know?"

"All that matters is that I know." Draconicon stressed that word, dropping his smile for a moment before pulling it back up again. "And that I can help."

Tsivath's pulses of anger had ceased. Knowing that it meant that her latest bout of fury had ended, he lowered her to the ground. She pulled at her skirt, dragging the braids of her previous hunts and triumphs forward, clearly trying to regain some confidence in herself and her own position. Another Sith would have laughed. He merely smiled.

They were silent, trying to wait him out. He could feel it in the Force; they expected him to blackmail them, to ask for something to keep his silence. After all, the Wookies in the Senate would pay a great deal for this information; they could discredit Tsivath - and her home planet - with ease with it. A measure could be introduced to ban the Trandoshans from the Senate (temporarily, at least) and their position on the galactic stage would be irreparably damaged.

When waiting didn't work, Tsivath hissed, crossed her arms and planted her feet. It was a warrior's reaction, and it made him smile. Even sickly, she was a Senator for a reason.

"You say that you can help, and you have...powers. Yet, there is no cure for Magrak Syndrome...and there is no Jedi who would hide like this..."

"You're correct. No Jedi would, or could. Which leaves..."

"...Something else," she said.

"Something illegal," her husband muttered.

"And some_one_ that is your only option," the dragon finished, shaking his head as he stood up. "Someone that can save your career and, through that, your people. Considering you've been hiding your condition, a treatment clearly has value to you. Value that you can pay, Mrs. Sotch."

"Senator," she growled.

"Only if you accept my offer. Magrak Syndrome advances quickly in high-stress situations. You're already in the grips of the early stages. A few more weeks, maybe a month, and you'll progress into the later ones."

"You obviously want something," Tsivath said, growling through her teeth. "What? Speak plainly."

"Something that you are familiar with, I'm sure. Favors."

"Trandosha's honor is not for sale."

"Honor? Who said I wanted honor? Honor is cheap. Slaughtering your enemies, hunting your prey, telling truths? What do you gain? Nothing. What do you lose? Resources, manpower, and security. Give me honor, and I'll sell it to someone that believes it has any value at all.

"No, I don't want honor. I want obligation. I want loyalty. Your loyalty, specifically. I want you to come when I call, obey my commands, and to remember who you owe for everything you still have. Whatever you value your success, you will value my help ten times as much after this.

"Or, you can choose not to take my offer. You can do whatever it was you were doing before and hope nobody notices what you're becoming, or that your husband's hospital bills are growing by the day. You can do that until the day comes you end him forever, like you would have done today without my intervention.

"But of course, the choice is yours. He may not even blame you; Mr. Sotch seems the sort to take it rather than fight back."

She didn't take the deal, but neither did she decline. The two lizards huffed and growled, glancing at each other as the dragon waited.

This was his way: unlike other Sith, hiding behind the emotions of greed and anger, Draconicon followed honest lust. Whatever form it took - for power, for sex, for anything - it was honest, and that came through everything he said.

"I can fix your sickness. But you will pay the price."

"...Can you?" Shacruussk asked.

Tsivath whipped her head around, hissing in their language. Draconicon could have translated what they said through the Force, but for once, he allowed them 'privacy.' Besides, it was written all over their faces as they debated. She, in her pride and 'honor,' refused to owe anyone anything. He, in his practicality, saw the long picture and hoped to salvage this.

It was a tale as old as time: one believed they had strength when they had none while the other hoped for help. Fascinating to see it flipped from the usual players, however. Usually, Shacruussk's role would have been the female's.

He walked around the chair, leaning against the back of it as he watched the married couple. The outcome was inevitable, of course. Bit by bit, the Senator was worn down, until she screamed and threw a vase across the room. She snarled as she turned to him.

"Your deal...will cure me?"

"It will keep you in your Senatorial seat. And it will make the anger stop."

"But will it cure me?"

"Mmm, a direct question. No." He chuckled. "No. Nothing can cure Magrak Syndrome, as you said. But it can be redirected."

"...How?"

"Your disease devours the part of the brain that restrains your base instincts, slowly severing the emotional 'lizard' brain from the modulating 'person' brain. When it is gone, there is no barrier between emotion and action, no difference between frustration and fury. I can't stop it, but what I can do is trick the disease into breaking a different barrier somewhere more useful. After that, no more fury, and you will be far more suitable as an ambassador than you are now."

Tsivath fell silent. She did not look at her husband; why should she? It was her mind, her body, her soul on the bargaining table. She clenched her hands, tensing tighter and tighter until she finally sagged.

"I will take your offer."

"Good. Now, come here."

He sat down in the chair once more, and she moved to stand before him. The dragon gestured to the floor, and she grimaced as she knelt. Her husband watched from across the room, knees slightly bent. He was ready to defend her, despite everything.

Devoted, but entirely misguided, Draconicon thought. You could have done something about this if you spotted it early; that would have been the time to replace her as Senator. It would have confused everyone, but it wouldn't be so egregious as what you're hiding now. With all her public displays, she can't just leave without revealing the truth. Not anymore.

A servant with overweening devotion was as dangerous as a traitor in the ranks. Affection so often carried stupidity under its cloak, and Shacruussk was fully guilty of that.

He shook his head, focusing his power and attention on the Trandoshan Senator. She glared up at him the whole time, barely keeping her anger in check, and the Sith Lord rode that fury inward.

Her anger was a welcoming spiral dragging him further and further into her, allowing him to see her thoughts, her feelings, everything that she clung to. Her obsessive attention on her temper imprinted her mind with the recent past, and it painted a powerful picture for him.

Her fury was a pleasant storm, and he danced among its swells. She was raging every hour of the day, whether standing in the Senate or lying in bed with her husband. Her feral anger had spread, becoming tied to everything that she did.

But there was a way to fix that.

The Sith Lord channeled the Dark Side of the Force through himself and into Tsivath's anger. As he wove them together, her rage changed to lust. His lust. It was a different heat, one that burned no less hot but came with far less pain. As she relaxed against him, he pushed deeper, finding the little particles that made up the Syndrome, and set to work.

Here, not there. There, not here, he whispered, directing them to other places. This is food. That is not. This is sustenance, that is poison.

And with each little nudge, he worked on remapping her mind.

Such an in-depth change would not have been possible on a Jedi or other trained minds. They were too aware of themselves to miss such an obvious shift and would have fought back. Broken prisoners, occasionally, could be altered this way, but with difficulty. With someone so lost to a single emotion, however, it was simple, if time consuming.

Little by little, he redirected the Trandoshan's mind, feeling it lose the angry red that had consumed it. The storm around him faded, and the lustful stream he'd given her took its place. He smiled as he felt the same heat that regularly consumed him pulsing through the politician's veins, and he knew that he had succeeded.

He opened his eyes as he pulled his hands away. Tsivath looked back with red cheeks and a growl, but this one was quite different to the previous ones. Her legs had spread over time, and looking over her shoulders, he could see her ankles curling in, her toes curling and feet rubbing against each other as she huffed from her new feelings.

Yes. It was a success.

"Tsivath?" Shacruussk hissed.

"It...it is...it worked," the Senator panted. "I...I'm not...angry anymore."

"...I don't believe it..."

"I'm not," she said, wobbling as she stood. She pressed her hand to her head. "I don't know what I am, but...but the anger is gone. I don't want to...I don't want to hurt someone anymore."

"No, but you will want other things."

"What did you do?" Shacruussk asked. "What other things?"

"I told you, I could only redirect her disease. She will not feel anger anymore. Instead, she'll be overwhelmed by something else, something as intense, but less...intimidating."

"What did you do?!" Shacruussk growled.

"I cut off anger, and opened lust."

Tsivath's eyes widened and Shacruussk growled as he stomped forward. Draconicon stopped him with a wave of his hand, freezing the Trandoshan in mid-step.

"Are you that foolish, Mr. Sotch? I just saved your wife. Her dignity is a small price to pay, I would say. Or are you so possessive of her that you can't understand that? Or..." Draconicon blinked. "Oh, I see..."

The Sith Lord smiled as he clenched his fist. Shacruussk wheezed as the Force cut off his air supply, and this time, Draconicon caught what Tsivath's anger had hidden before. The male pulsed of lust, spiking from being trapped by the dragon's touch and the pain of asphyxiation. That spike manifested itself in a sudden, persistent erection in the lizard's pants, as well.

"I see. I missed that before. It was not devotion that kept you complicit. Not entirely, anyway. You were weak in your own way, a slave to your own lust for her abuse. You enjoyed her fury, didn't you?"

"You...you..."

"Ah, ah." He shook his head. "Your wife is safe now. She will keep her position. That is what you wanted, isn't it, Tsivath?"

"...It is."

"And was it worth it?"

"Yes, but..." She groaned, shaking her head. "But this...this need..."

"It will only get worse, so you better get used to it." Draconicon smiled. "But consider. If you allow yourself pleasure - and affairs - it will go a long way towards showing the New Republic just how 'accommodating' Trandoshans can be. A female offering herself to other males - and perhaps even other females - would prove that you aren't the monsters that the rest of the galaxy sees you as. Perhaps even giving yourself to the Wookie Senator."

"Rrrrrrgh...let...let me...ulk..."

"And your husband can watch, to prove that he can control himself."

"Nnngh...I wouldn't...watch..."

Draconicon chuckled, finding no small amount of amusement to the combination of lust, humiliation, and anger in the air. For all that they both tried to hold to their dignity and honor, they were breaking quickly. Tsivath quicker, of course, but Shacruussk was following quickly. He turned his attention to the male, twisting his thoughts inwards.

A short Trandoshan kicked from the hunting team, hunted after their prey escaped. Chased, pinned, taken, humiliated. The use of the other males worse than the jeers he suffered, yet pleasurable? A rape, he told himself, but every hunt thereafter reminded him of pain, then pleasure, then addiction. Serve, take it, enjoy it, repeat.

"Oh, my." Draconicon shook his head. "That explains a lot."

"Get...out...ah...ah..."

He floated Shacruussk to him, looking between the two Trandoshans. Tsivath hissed in distress, her hands folded together in front of her as she held herself back from touching herself. It wouldn't take long before her libido controlled her as much as her rage had. Would that take hold of her on the Senate floor, he wondered? Or would she be able to keep it to 'embarrassing' moments outside that hallowed hall as she changed the image of Trandoshans on a galactic scale?

What would it do to a species of warriors to have a rampant slut as their representative? What would it do to them to see her succeed where warrior pride did not?

It would break them, and he'd be there to pick up the pieces. An entire species of psychologically-shattered but highly competent warriors would be very useful to someone attempting to reshape the galaxy. It would take time, of course, but he had a great deal of that.

"I wasn't planning on doing this so soon, but you two clearly need something to clear your heads," the dragon said. "Besides, I believe Tsivath could use the practice."

She said nothing.

"Both of you...strip."

He didn't force them. The Senator ripped her garments off, leaving her bare to the scales. As a Trandoshan, she was completely flat-chested, but he didn't care; he was more interested in the drenched slit between her legs and the juices running down her thighs. She was so productive that her bare feet left footprints on the hard flooring, marks that he doubted would be cleaned - or explained - anytime soon.

Shacruussk was slower, but as much as he tried to hide it, his lust pulsed in the dragon's senses, and there was no denying that erection between his legs. He hissed in annoyance as he pulled his clothes off piece by piece, leaving him with a bright pink cock standing out from between his legs. His balls were internal, unsurprisingly; it fit his balls-less nature.

"You hate me, Shacruussk, and I understand that. But let me explain something," the dragon said. "I don't plan to take your wife from you. I believe that she belongs with you, and I wouldn't torment either of you by splitting you apart. But I gave you a service, and now you must pay. Her needs will grow, and she may abuse you again in time, but she will want more than you. You'll have to learn to share...and perhaps indulge that old hunt-slut from your past.

"This time, I won't leave her pregnant with my eggs. For now, you will just have to share her ass with me. But you will get me ready."

"...I...but I haven't -"

"You have, Shacruussk. Many times." Draconicon smiled as Tsivath whipped her head around, mouth agape. "And never told her? Oh, my...such a hidden shame."

"..."

"On your knees."

He fell to his knees and lowered his head to the dragon's groin. Shacruussk's hands were surprisingly steady as the short male pulled the Sith Lord's robes apart, only to stare at the throbbing shaft beneath. The long rod, just over a foot long, bobbed and tapped him on the nose. He gasped, his own cock twitching and spitting against the base of the chair.

"Lick. Your wife is going to have to take this. And she is going to need lube."

"...Yes...yes, she is," Shacruussk said, only to blush at the admiration in his voice.

He dove down, sucking the dragon's cock between his lips. Trandoshan biology demanded that he suck his lips in and over his teeth to avoid injury, and he did it quickly and with clear experience. Not much in the way of tongue-work, and he was clearly moving in a way to face-fuck himself rather than properly sucking Draconicon's cock, but it was better than nothing. Quite a bit better than nothing, as a matter of fact.

Tsivath hissed in need as she pressed against the chair. Draconicon smirked as she spread her legs and all but humped the furniture. She was nearly in a state of feral need, her juices flowing freely along her thighs. She shifted position as soon as she realized he was watching, showing off both of her holes, letting her juices run back towards that tighter one between her cheeks. It would not be the tighter of the two for long.

They were both lustful and taken by their need. Hers was a compulsion, while Shacruussk's was conditioned by his past. Draconicon had forced neither of them; he had only taken the locks off the doors of inhibition.

As much as Shacruussk's face-fucking blowjob style brought him less pleasure, it did get him nice and slick. Every time that he bobbed down, he pulled the Sith Lord's cock right into his throat, and the slime there was far slicker than spit. It took perhaps a minute for him to be properly lubed up, and Draconicon nodded his approval.

"Stop."

The Trandoshans' auras shifted, and he chuckled as Shacruussk pulled back. The yellow-scaled Trandoshan was dripping and his rump was pushed out more than any proud hunter ever should. His breath came in huffs and puffs, and he stared at the Sith Lord's cock with undisguised hunger.

Oh, the power of learned behavior and what it does to you...

With a wave of his hand, he lifted the Senator off her feet. The wide open window-wall loomed large at their sides, but neither lizard seemed aware of it any longer. They were lost to their needs.

He lowered Tsivath onto his lap. She was muscular, hard and solid, but her twitching hole felt just as good as any other. Her pride had disappeared save for the quiver in her grin as she ground back against him, already trying to get him inside.

The dragon spread her legs, revealing her pussy to her shivering husband. Shacruussk stepped forward, his cock sliding against her pussy -

"Tell him," Draconicon said. "Tell him if he has permission."

"He...he has permission," Tsivath said.

"Always?"

"Nnngh...no...but this time...yes," she said. "I need something...in both...even something smaller...like him."

Smaller. The word was like magic for Shacruussk; his lust spiked and the Trandoshan lunged forward. Draconicon pushed up just as the other male pushed down, and they pinned the Senator between them.

She hissed, screamed, and moaned like a woman possessed, bouncing between their cocks. She thrust her hips forward and her ass back as if she couldn't be without their cocks for more than a fraction of a second before needing it again. He didn't even have to move; he sat there, letting her do all the work. She served him even as she served herself, her tight hole sucking him deep and then ramming forward to claim her husband's smaller shaft in her pussy.

You will learn, the dragon thought. You opened the doors. With each new act, you will find yourself more curious, your lust growing, your wanton nature never satisfied. Eventually, even shame will be forgotten.

The humping continued, and the dragon closed his eyes to enjoy it. The tight clench of her anal walls, the gentle stroking of Shacruussk's cock through her inner walls, the wet heat as she panted and groaned for more: it was all a reminder that they were his. Not taken, but given for the bargain that he had offered them.

They belonged to him, and he would use them, repeatedly.

#

An hour later, the two Trandoshans had recovered from their fit of lust, and Shacruussk looked at the ground in shame and embarrassment. He covered his crotch as if it might hide his still-throbbing erection, and he didn't look at his wife nor at the Sith Lord getting dressed.

Tsivath, on the other hand, still had her courage. She looked up even as cum oozed from both her holes.

"This was not...what you promised."

"Was it not?" Draconicon chuckled. "I promised that Magrak Syndrome wouldn't take your Senate seat from you. I saved you from your anger. Did I lie?."

"But this is-"

"Nothing but lust, and perhaps a bit of shame," he said, pulling the belt of his robe closed. "And lust is nothing to be ashamed of, unless you like that sort of thing. Of course, it will get worse, but sex is far easier to trade than fury. And your husband? He wants this as much as you do. Talk to him, if you don't believe me; he is ruled by his past. His shame is his pleasure."

"...Is this...all we have to look forward to?" she asked.

"No. More pleasure over time, of course, but no. I have other, more political favors to ask of you. There are many things I'd like to see pass the Senate, and while you're not my only agent there, it never hurts to have more," he said. "Of course, we know that this has to be kept secret. I'm sure that I can rely on you to come up with some excuse for your new urges that doesn't reveal our little bargain."

"What if we choose not to?"

"Well, I would be very disappointed in you," he said, shrugging as he walked to the door. "And I would have to come back and make my disappointment known. The last time I had to do that, an entire planet switched sides in the middle of a war. I feel I'd have to be a little more extreme with the pair of you after how much I helped you out."

They said nothing.

"Good luck, Mr. and Mrs. Sotch. I have a shuttle to catch."

The End

Summary: Draconicon the Sith Lord returns, this time fucking with a Trandoshan Senator and her husband.

Tags: M/F, M/M, M/M/F, Threesome, Adultery, Married Couple, Star Wars, Trandoshan, Dragon, Self-Insert, Vaginal, Anal, Nudity, Blowjob, Mind Control, Dark Side, Sith, Lust, Blackmail,