When Tomorrow Comes | By : niveus Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 2569 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Title: When Tomorrow Comes
Fandom:
Star Wars
Pairing: General Grievous/Nute Gunray
Disclaimer: I have officially
screwed up the Star Wars universe with this one. Everything belongs to George Lucas (worship him for creating SW) and the respective companies. I own nothing; so kindly don't send the lawyer sharks after me. This is for personal amusement. Ah well, this is also done as a
trade commission with Togemon. I really hope she
enjoys it!
~*~*~
Every star in the infinite
expanse of space mocked him. Their ethereal light oblivious to his shattered
form. Growling in frustration, General Grievous turned from the cruiser’s view
port and stalked to the rear of the command center. Taking an undignified
position behind the Neimoidian navigator’s chair, Grievous proceeded to lean
forward till his head was level with the control panel. The flickering symbols
on multiple screens reflected in the general’s golden eyes as he scanned the
read-outs.
Tapping nervous fingers against
the armrests of his chair, the Neimoidian cleared his throat, “M’lord, is
there… something that I may assist you with?”
Biting back a bitter response,
Grievous shook his head with disdain and straightened to his full height. Who could possibly compare to a Neimiodian’s
bravery? Pushing the sarcastic remark to the back of his the mind, the
droid general pulled his cape tighter around his body. Secretly delighting in
the nigh-silent sound of multiple lightsaber hilts hitting his chassis,
Grievous turned to leave through the reinforced blaster doors. Before the doors fully opened to allow him through, a hesitant
“M’lord?” cut through his peace.
“What do you want?” was Grievous’
snapped remark, coming from his vocalizer before he even fully processed the Neimoidian’s
‘question’. Taking a frightened step back to the safety of the navigator
console, the thin humanoid clicked his nails together anxiously. All Grievous
could do was envy and hate the Neimoidian at the same time. Blurred and
tattered memories swirled through his mind. Memories from before he had been
become a cyborg, before the galactic war. Soft laughter, joy, and, dare he say,
love, ran before his eyes. Taking a collective sigh, Grievous pushed the
memories back, only to find himself staring into the
expanse of space one more.
The sound of the Neimoidian
clearing his throat fully pulled Grievous back to the present, pushing away all
thoughts of his previous life. Finding himself
thoroughly embarrassed, the cyborg shifted the bulk of his weight to his left
‘foot’ before addressing the navigator. “Does this hold any importance or are
you just wasting my time?” Filthy scum.
Large, round, crimson eyes looked
back up at him, their owner unconsciously chewing his lower lip. A shuddering
breath left the Neimoidian’s mouth before he spoke. “I was wondering, perhaps,
if there was anything that might soothe m’lord?”
“And what are you implying?”
Grievous crossed his arms in a small hope of creating an imposing figure,
though even to him the effort seemed meaningless. Wasn’t it all meaningless? A
great Kaleesh General such as himself reduced to a… a cyborg. Furious whispers pushed themselves up from the depths of
Grievous’ mind, threatening to take him once more from the conscious world. The
Neimoidian’s lips where moving, yet he still heard nothing. Shaking his head in
the hopes of dislodging the images, Grievous turned and walked quickly down the
long hall to his quarters. A shout followed him, yet his mind heard naught.
~*~*~
A persistent buzzing woke
Grievous from his sleep. Half-heartedly lifting his head from the recreation
platform, the cyborg scanned the room for any damage he had inflicted the
previous night. Any time spent after Grievous had entered his room was blurred;
mixing between memories and reality into a poisonous concoction. To his
personal relief, nothing seemed too amiss – excluding a broken chair that lay
in pile by the far wall.
Yet to annoy him further, another
buzz broke through his muddled mind. Lifting to an imposing stance, Grievous
stormed to the door, flicking on the camera monitor for his Kaleesh eyes. What a wonderful way to start the day.
Waiting on the other side was one of the scrawny messenger droids the
Neimoidians used to relay whatever news they where too lazy to deliver
themselves. In a hope of scaring the droid off, Grievous activated the door’s
controls. All was for naught though, for as soon as the droid ‘saw’ Grievous,
he launched into his message.
“Sir, we have reached the Federation
headquarters, as scheduled. Master Nute Gunray demands your presence in his office immediately. The
Viceroy insists it is of utmost importance. He requires that you-“ happily shoving the droid away, Grievous marched down to
the cruiser’s control center, only to find
that the Neimoidian navigator had already docked the ship. Letting a snarl slip
from his throat, Grievous shook his head in annoyance for the turn of events.
He would rather jump into a sarlaac pit then deal
with another Neimoidian, especially him.
Apparently loyal to its orders,
the messenger droid tottered up behind Grievous, already beginning to repeat
his message. Firmly throwing the droid against one of the
battle-droids proved quite effortless to him, and far better than dealing with
another confounded Neimoidian pawn.
“May I suggest that m’lord might
yield to the Viceroy’s request?” Turning to face the navigator, the cyborg
found himself having to give a soft grunt of agreement
with the Neimoidian.
“Fuel up the ship and prepare for
departure when I give the order. This shall not take long,” finding comfort in
the sound of his droid bodyguards following him, the general made his way to
the cruiser’s main exit. Descending from the ship’s lift, Grievous was
infuriated to see a nervous Neimoidian escort waiting for him. Upon spotting
the ruffled general, the pale form gestured to him while giving a quite audible
swallow. Walking past the escort, Grievous made his way into the large
superstructure that cradled the Viceroy’s office.
Making his way through the
maze-like building proved oddly easy to Grievous; considering he had been
expecting to walk in circles for a few hours at the least. When the fourth
elevator he had entered opened, the cyborg was greeted with the sight of a
lusciously filled office… or should he say bedroom? Thick carpet padded the
floor, while an extravagant desk occupied the center of the room. Opposite a
wall window that opened to reveal the spaceport, rested a large bed that was
strewn with numerous pillows, each one reveling in a different texture.
Nameless art hung from three of the walls, most of which was abstract to
Grievous. Plush chairs and a few tables adorned the rest of the room in no
specific order. Finding himself out of place, Grievous looked about till his
eyes came to rest on the Viceroy himself.
Nute Gunray seemed small compared to the chair he reclined in.
As always illustrious expensive robes kept to his figure, topped off with one
of those ridiculous head ornaments that Grievous wished to laugh out loud at.
Already large eyes widened upon seeing the general standing in the doorway. Gesturing
with one hand to a chair near his own, Nute murmured,
“Do sit”, before returning his attention to the spaceport. More than miffed by
the Viceroy’s behavior, Grievous crossed the room to stand in front of the
Neimoidian’s chair.
Looking up with suddenly tired
eyes, Nute let a soft sigh leave his lips before
shifting himself in the chair. “I do not wish to take too much of your time,
General. There are just some things I wish to clear and, hopefully,
understand.” Unmoved by the other’s words, Grievous stayed where he was and
awaited the Viceroy’s questions. “First… how expendable are we to Darth Sidious?”
“If by saying ‘we’ you mean
yourself, very expendable,” the angry expression Grievous had been expecting
was instead replaced by a sorrowful one that covered even the Neimoidian’s
eyes.
“I have received a-a message from
Sidious,” glittering eyes turned themselves up to
Grievous as if he contained some answer the other longed for. Looking as
uncaring as he could, the cyborg turned his sight dispassionately to the
window.
“And this message concerns me
how?”
“He wishes that, figuratively
speaking, I am put out of ‘commission’ as soon as possible.” Grievous turned
his attention back to the other man at the soft words, confusion evident in his
form.
“Yet again, how does this concern
me?” A shudder seemed to work its way through the Neimoidian’s body as he rose
to stand inches from the cyborg’s frame. Lifting his hand as
if to press it against Grievous’ chest, Nute stopped
centimeters from the cold chassis, his face once more lifting to meet the
cyborg’s gaze.
“I have been informed that he is
sending clone troopers here to execute me and,” a deep shuddering breath, “I
desire protection, or escape. It matters not which way.” Narrowing his eyes to
mere slits, Grievous reached to clasp the Neimoidian’s frail wrist, sending
another shiver through the other’s body. Eyes now awash with pain looked up
upon Grievous’ in desperation, “I beg of you, please.”
“My motivation?” letting the
question hang between them, Grievous pulled his head back to look thoroughly
over the Neimoidian’s form. Hunger and exhaustion clearing reigned supreme in
the other’s body. Anxiety and worries adding their own tint of a pale, waxy
sheen to the Viceroy’s body; even his eyes clearly reflected his emotions.
Fear, anger, nigh-defeat, frustration, and hope met Grievous head-on.
~*~*~
For not the first time that hour,
Grievous cursed his decision. The room seemed to spin in front of his eyes as
rage coursed through his system, everything melding together into a disembodied
enemy. Of all the stupid things you could
have done, he mused, you picked up a
Neimoidian. Grievous had, of course, immediately made his displeasure known
to every droid on board the ship as soon as the Viceroy had boarded. Which
explained why they where all simultaneously cowering.
Even now the general had yet to
put an explanation to why he had taken the Viceroy with him. Perhaps it had been
a moment of weakness that had plagued him, or even the simple fact that, in
some odd form, the Neimoidian might be amusing. To Grievous personally, he
needed no explanation, for he was the
General. How that matter would stand up in a thorough examination mattered not
to the cyborg.
The object of his dissatisfaction
appeared in the doorway, his robes of office exchanged for a simpler one
tailored for the sole purpose of relaxing. A
Neimoidian, a damn Neimoidian,
another one! Other thoughts along similar lines only made the action of
focusing on Nute more complicated. His hands ached to
be wrapped around the other’s throat, if nothing more than for the reason that Nute belonged to the faction who had taken his body and
future. Everything. My people…
He was getting a headache. This
was not an unexpected turn of events; Grievous was often cursed with migraines
that tore through his head like a hurricane, leaving fragmented memories in
their wake. So, naturally, that small problem was of no concern to him. The
real problem stood directly in front of him.
Attempting to straighten his
robes somewhat, Nute smoothed his fingertips down the
front of his body before looking up at the irritated cyborg. “I wish to thank
you, greatly. I am in your debt.” And I
am supposed to believe you are sincere… how? “If there is anyway in which I
could repay you?” Such a small question seemed to quickly plunge the room into
silence, even the hum of the cruiser’s engines seemed softer to Grievous. At
this time, normally, he would have thrown a poisonous rebuttal to the
Neimoidian, but for once-
“-anything, all you need is to
ask.” Much to his own annoyance, Grievous realized the other man had still been
speaking; entirely tuned out by the cyborg’s personal thoughts.
“I need nothing more than what I
already possess.” To Grievous, the answer seemed to be the shortest it could,
and it covered all bases. Yet the Viceroy still looked uneasy; for whatever
reason entirely avoided Grievous’ grasp. Nute’s eyes
seemed to once more grow sorrowful, but only for a fleeting moment. Taking on a
business face, the Neimoidian nodded his consent before giving a brief bow and
leaving the room.
Grievous couldn’t help it, his
eyes trailed after Nute. His hips sway like a woman’s; and his body, he’s so delicate-
snapping out of that state of mind, Grievous found an odd feeling tingling
through what remained of his body. Pulling his cape around his mechanical body
in the hopes of dispersing such thoughts, the general deemed it necessary to
power down his droid body and rest for the night. Not for the conversation that
had just taken place; but for the single terrifying thought that leapt after
the Neimoidian and desired to leave Grievous’ throat.
I want to possess you.
~*~*~
Silk hands slid over his body, coming to rest on his hips. Lithe
fingers gripped the protruding bones and pulled his body down into velvet
warmth. Groaning in pleasure he stroked his wife’s body in turn, burying his
face in her hair. Movements became rougher as he neared climax, until finally
he threw his head back and screamed. Murmuring soft words of endearment he lent
forward to stroke her cheek, only to find himself
looking into Nute Gunray’s
face.
~*~*~
Dreams did not usually bother
him, they where nothing more than memories that had come back to taunt him. Yet
now one of the few pleasant ones Grievous dwelled in was twisted beyond his
belief. The cyborg could clearly remember waking with a shout the previous
night, his body curling up onto itself in an effort to push out the vivid images.
Everything had been so clear, and the Neimoidian’s eyes had been so filled with
love- Stop that.
Even to Grievous, the dream had
not been surprising with his wife’s figure replaced. Though he had never
admitted it out loud, there had often been other lover’s in his dream-world;
but never a male, and never a Neimoidian.
The filthy, cowardly scum would never- be
so beautiful. It was at that opportune moment that Grievous took to cursing
himself and everything around him in terms no well-raised child should know.
Yet another part of his mind taunted from hidden depths; whispering that he
actually was glad the Neimoidian had appeared. More to sate his burning nerves
than anything else; Grievous rose from his bed and stalked to Nute’s personal quarters.
Hallways that had once been easy
to pass through now seemed to take an eternity to navigate. During that period
of time, Grievous’ nerves cooled somewhat, but his mind still stalked
ravenously through his memories. Shattered pieces from his first dealings with Nute rose to play themselves before his eyes, filling in
gaps that Grievous had previously thought non-existent. So preoccupied with his
thoughts was the cyborg, that he didn’t even notice when he came to stop in
front of the Neimoidian’s quarters. Only when his metallic fingers came to rest
on the security-pad did his mind reel back to the present.
What am I doing? As if another entity had taken control of his
body, Grievous’ fingers glided over the numerals, punching in the proper code
for the door to open. Feet that could not belong to him swiftly made their
entrance to the bedchamber; and eyes that weren’t his own strayed to the slim
form buried underneath transparent sheets.
The flesh that remained for
Grievous’ organic body blazed as if an inferno had swallowed him. So tempting- why did the Neimoidian have
to sleep nude? Any rational thoughts that were left in Grievous’ mind quickly
fled; all that remained was the body in front of him. As if trying to pull
Grievous fully from sanity, Nute whimpered softly in
his sleep and shifted under the covers so his body was curled tightly into a
ball. Swallowing a lump that had risen in his torn throat, Grievous lent over
so he could look down on Nute from directly above. And what a sight, may he say?
Nute’s
face contorted briefly into one of confusion before his large eyes opened
slowly, blinking a few times. Cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of maroon, right
before turning deathly pale at the sight of Grievous. Giving the Neimoidian no
time to react further, Grievous launched his body onto the bed. Straddling the
milky thighs, he pushed Nute onto his back; hungry
eyes ravaging the exotic image before him. Pale, long-tapered fingers came to
press against his shoulder plates, right before-
Nute
moaned.
A sound that should have had no
effect on Grievous drove him over the edge. Separating his arms, Grievous
gripped Nute’s wrists in one hand, pinning them above
his head. The opposite hand came to stroke the quivering form’s cheek while his
two lower arms busied themselves with the tender torso. Nute’e
eyes widened to almost twice their size as a strangled gasp left his throat;
every muscle in his body trembling violently at Grievous’ touch. Lips moved in
a soundless prayer as Grievous brought his face close to the other male’s;
every fiber of his being calling out to the other’s in need.
No question where asked as
Grievous’ hands pulled the sheets off of Nute’s body.
No answers where given as the cyborg fit his hips in between the other man’s.
Why would there need to be questions or answers? Everything was plainly written
in each others eyes.
Groaning, Grievous felt Nute’s thighs clench his own, a soft shuddering breath
leaving the pale lips. Sensors along his droid body threw themselves into
overdrive, each one trying to absorb as much as possible. Arching his head
back, Nute left his throat open for assault; and for
once Grievous found himself loathing the fact he had no lips to taste the
delicate skin. Yet he still hands. Metallic fingers that had been stroking a
velvet cheek now came to trace an exquisite pattern along the Neimoidian’s
jugular. Eyes flew open at the touch, orange pupils focusing themselves on
Grievous’ masked face.
Stilling any further questions,
Grievous sat back on his ‘heels’, taking Nute’s
tender body with him. Shaky arms wrapped around the cyborg’s torso, a flushed
face burying itself in his neck cables. Stilling a growl of triumph, Grievous’
lower hands worked their way down the Neimoidian’s back to his buttocks.
Massaging the soft flesh their, the cyborg also busied himself with cradling
the back of the Neimoidians head, fingers working on sensitive patches of
flesh. Now gulping for breath, Nute bucked against
Grievous’ body harshly, causing the droid general to close his eyes and allow a
pleased sigh to leave his throat.
Pleasuring Nute
took very little effort, within minutes the other man’s body was withering in
Grievous’ arms, leaving the cyborg to his own devices. Pushing the heated body
back onto the bed, Grievous’ lower hands now took to gripping Nute’s thighs. A delighted moan left the Neimoidian’s lips
as Grievous’ hand brushed against a throbbing erecting. Pleased with himself, the cyborg’s hand quickly busied itself with also
pleasing the other man. Grinding his body against the Grievous’ harsh metallic
one, Nute cried out, his body shuddering as wave
after wave of ecstasy hit him. Electricity literally flew at warp speed through
Grievous’ wires, organic nerves burned in furious intensity, and then-
Bliss.
~*~*~
A mixture of organic and robotic
limbs found themselves tangled together when the chronometer blared
its morning welcome. Groggily lifting his head, Grievous slowly took note of
his surroundings, and the body snuggled against his own. Nute
was the essence of innocence while he slept. Just like a babe…
Crimson eyes opened to lock with
Grievous’ in silent confirmation. Sighing contently, Nute
allowed his body to pull itself closer to the general’s chassis. Shivering,
Grievous’ mind whirled with what should be done, and what he wanted to do.
“I am in debt to you even more
than before.” Stirring himself from his thoughts, Grievous looked down at the
content Neimoidian in confusion.
“What do you mean?” Grievous felt the smaller body stiffen,
before relaxing as his owner replied in a whispered voice.
“You have given me what I’ve long
desired,” eyes cast themselves away from Grievous as pale flesh flushed in
pleasure.
“And what would that be?” Once
more silence reigned in the room for long minutes before the silk voice
answered once more.
“You.”
“Perhaps,” came from Grievous’
purring vocalizer, “but I can still give you so much more.”
To be continued…
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