Clutching My Cure

Chapter Twelve


Consciousness brought with it a host of unpleasant sensations. The first thing he noticed was the ache in both arms, his shoulders screaming in protest as he shifted in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. He appeared to be chained to the ceiling, arms stretched over his head, feet barely brushing the floor. His mouth was dry, his tongue feeling as if it were coated with a layer of foul tasting slime.

Bruck reached to the Force in an effort to relieve some of his discomfort, only to discover that it hovered just beyond his reach. That, more than his current state of incarceration, sent a flare of panic through him. It wasn’t until he swallowed back that fear that he became aware of the restriction at his throat. Something smooth, cool, and metallic encircled his neck and was no doubt the cause of the Force void.

Steadying his breathing, he bent his head as far forward as he was able and surveyed what he could see of his surroundings. Instead of a bleak cell as he’d been expecting, he was shocked to find himself strung up in the center of an opulently furnished bedroom. The place reeked of wealth and decadence, his eyes shying away from the massive silk, draped bed that took up the entire length of a wall. DeCrion has obviously profited handsomely from his endless list of questionable business dealings.

"You decided to wake up, hum?"

The voice wasn’t the same smoky timber as deCrion’s. This voice wasn’t as deep and the accent was as familiar as his own. It was the dulcet tones of a native Core Worlder. Only someone who’d spent considerable time on Coruscant spoke with those cultured sounds. Bruck strained in the direction the voice originated from in an effort to see his other captor, but the man was just our of his viewing area.

"Thirsty," he was barely able to get his tongue to work well enough to form the words.

A humorless chuckle greeted his plea, the faint sound of feet treading closer. As the man stepped into sight, Bruck found himself sucking in an admiring breath. Shorter than him, the man was still well muscled and moved with an unspoken sensuality. Lightly tanned skin was stretched tautly over high cheekbones and accompanied by large, heavily lashed blue-gray eyes. Locks of silky looking reddish-gold hair fell to brush a pair of broad shoulders, a cleft chin begging for someone to lick it.

Shaking his head at the unexpected thought, Bruck’s hands tightened into fists in an effort to regain control of himself. A knowing smirk curled the man’s lips as he stepped closer and pressed a glass to Bruck’s lips. Eye’s locked with his captor, the young Jedi drank greedily, cool water soothing his parched throat. The cup emptied, the man pulled it away, his thumb reaching up to press against a bead of moisture that clung to Bruck’s bottom lip, slowly rubbing it away.

Desire flared between them, the jolt going straight to Bruck’s groin. It didn’t help matters any when the man stepped even closer, the heat radiating from his body only inflaming Bruck’s senses even more. Head tilting back slightly, his captor’s lips hovered mere inches from his own.

"Don’t get your hopes up, Chun. I wouldn’t touch you with an Ewok’s dick, let alone my own."

The taunt was like a douse of ice cold water, Bruck’s head snapping back as his anger ignited. His reaction drew a nasty laugh from the man, the blue-gray orbs now hard and frigid as they bore into his. Dark feelings of animosity hit him square in the face, bringing a frown of confusion to his tanned features. Seeing it, his captor pressed closer once again, lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl.

"I can’t believe you’ve forgotten your good friend, Oafy-Wan."

The blood drained from Bruck’s face at the cold words, his gaze desperately searching the alluring features for any recognizable features that would verify the claim. It was the eyes that gave him the proof he needed. There was no denying the multi-hued jewels could belong to anyone but, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The truth hit Bruck in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs as he was reunited with his bitter rival.

And the only person who could inflame his passion.

Desperate to keep his hidden desires private, he schooled his features into an equally nasty mask. "Oafy-Wan Kenobi! I should have known you’d be tagging along on deCrion’s boot heels like a good little pet. How’s the Jedi reject business these days?"

Uncontrolled rage flared in Kenobi’s eyes, nostrils flaring as his hand dropped down to grasp the silver cylinder clipped to his belt. The tension in the room was suffocating in its thickness, the enemies locked in a silent battle of wills. Eventually Obi-Wan relaxed, the gleam in his gaze causing Bruck to swallow nervously.

"It has its benefits. Wealth, power, freedom and most importantly, unlimited sex with a variety of beings. Things the Jedi are much too uptight to appreciate." Tilting his head to the side, Obi-Wan shot Bruck a knowing wink. "Except for the sex part. I’m sure your beloved master has schooled you well in the fine art of fucking."

Bruck jerked against his restraints at the remark. "That’s disgusting! Say anything like that about Master Qui-Gon again and I swear I’ll rip you part with my bare hands."

"Oh come now, Chun! Just between friends, how young were you when Jinn took you into his bed?"

Obi-Wan’s laugh was chilling as he watched his rival struggle to break free of his chains, eager to get a hold of him. "Don’t tell me he hasn’t even tried anything. He couldn’t wait to get his hands, as well as other parts of his body, on and in Xanatos."

"Shut up!" Bruck’s enraged scream echoed off the walls, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “You always were a filthy, disgusting, excuse for a person, Kenobi. It’s no wonder Master Qui-Gon left you to rot on Melida/Daan. He should have done the galaxy a favor and killed you when he had the chance.”

The barbs hit home, Obi-Wan launching himself at the bigger man with a roar. His body slammed into Bruck’s, causing the bound man to swing backwards from the impact. Both hands wrapped around the wide neck as Obi-Wan prepared to strangle his nemesis into silence once and for all. Bruck continued to shoot daggers at him, even as his face took on a purplish cast, vision growing spotty as he was deprived oxygen. As he began to lose consciousness, he was faced with one final shameful realization.

Even at this moment, when he was livid with anger, disgusted by the things Kenobi had said, and about to die, his body was betraying him once again. Just being in such close proximity to Obi-Wan had sent blood rushing to his groin and given him one of the most painfully hard erections he could remember having. It didn’t help matters any to have his childhood enemies belly rubbing against it as they struggled with one another.

Obi-Wan soon became aware of his predicament, the strangle hold loosening. Frozen in place, both men were breathing heavily as they tried to gauge the others reaction to the situation. It was Obi-Wan who made the first move, his head slowly shifting so that their lips were a mere whisper away from each other. Avoiding making eye contact, they simultaneously leaned forward the distance required to bring their mouths into full contact.

The kiss began tentatively, a feather light brush as they learned the taste and feel of one another’s lips. Experienced, Obi-Wan was the aggressor as he forced Bruck to open his mouth before sweeping his tongue inside the moist, warm haven. In short order they were engaged in an open mouthed duel of tongues, lips and teeth, biting at one another in an attempt to devour.

A strangled moan of pleasure rumbled low in Bruck’s throat when Obi-Wan let one of his hands slowly wander down the wide tanned chest, before cupping the heavy bulge of his sex. They were so consumed with one another, neither noticed the door opening behind them.

Xanatos remained frozen in the doorway as he took in the scene being played out before him. It was his worst dream come to life. He’d purposefully left his young lover alone with their Jedi captor after seeing the interest in Obi-Wan’s gaze as he’d studied Chun. It had been a test to see just how devoted the younger man was to him, and their burgeoning relationship. The outcome wasn’t what Xanatos had hoped for.

He turned and left the heated tableau without a sound.