Chapter Text
===== One day earlier =====
Old security footage from a base raided by rebels confirmed his identity. The information received from Headquarters about Brate was scarce compared to what he was used to. But it was enough to build an interrogation on – for Silas, anyway. Name, planet of birth, species, recorded sightings, preferred weapons, relationships to other known rebels. That last part was especially intriguing.
Silas studied the fuzzy video on his terminal. Brate was pressed against a wall, shouting up a narrow corridor, his weapon drawn and held steadily. His accent, height and slim build matched the “lost trader” his team had brought in for questioning. The dirty blonde hair was longer here, moving in tangled waves past the nape of his neck. He swept a hand through his hair as he continued to shout, apparently picking something out of it and flicking it away. So unkempt, Silas’ mouth upturned in disapproval.
The video changed, a different corridor at a different angle. Brate strode to a small table outside a door, kicking it over and tucking himself behind it. The door behind him slid open, and another rebel appeared, who joined him behind the table. They chattered excitedly to each other, their bodies close together as they periodically peered over the improvised barricade. What they were saying was unintelligible, though he could pick out the tone and vague accent in the voice. Silas narrowed his eyes at the other rebel.
“Is this the one on record, Coxon?” Silas spoke to the subordinate next to him, who’d presumably put the intelligence together. The other rebel was distinct-looking, and his record was considerably larger than Brate’s. He smirked at the confirmation.
=====
Brate staggered on his feet. Evidently, he’d been dragged back to the cell he’d been kept in up until now, though he had no memory of getting there. His mind was a blur; his eyes and head ached. His skin was hot and itched all over. He shuddered, looking down at the vulgar stain on his groin. His mind refused to believe what had happened in the interrogation room – they must’ve drugged him, hit him over the head, used some advanced mind probe...something. He wracked his brain for information he’d heard about Officer Silas, but drew up a blank.
He sat on the paper-thin mattress, head in his hands. He took deep breaths, trying to center himself. Brate had admitted he was a spy – or at least he’d thought he had. Soon after joining the rebel army, he’d been taught basic techniques on enduring torture, and the unimaginable pain that came with it. But this...assault was beyond anything he’d imagined. He didn’t understand how they got in his head, how they’d teased him to speak to easily. And those thoughts, those memories he’d had, about Coruscant...where had they come from?
He rubbed his sore eyes, resolving to endure whatever they did to him without saying another word. The rebels, his friends – his family, really - had to be protected. His shoulders relaxed as he stripped off, ignoring the cameras that were scrutinizing his every move. He padded towards the minuscule faucet to tried to clean himself up.
=====
Brate stifled a yawn as the carrier hummed beneath him once again, tracing corridors in the decks below. His sleep had been deep, haunted by the wry grin of Officer Silas. Gloved shadowy fingers had stretched over his body and closed around his head, pressing forcefully into his eyes. Even after waking, a painful throbbing had set in his eyelids. The ship’s atmosphere felt intense and oppressive. Brate wished he could’ve died in the heat of battle, cussing out troopers and flipping off the Empire. He instead had to dissociate himself, putting all of his energy into not reacting to whatever awaited him. Stay silent, keep the rebels safe. That was the only important thing now.
He was brought to an identical interrogation room – the only difference was the chair was at the back of the room, with the table between him and the only exit. Officer Silas was already there. Clean-shaven and looking well-rested, he stood imposing as ever among the other Imperials milling around. As before, he paid no attention to Brate as he entered and the metal cuffs were snapped over his wrists, securing him to his chair. Brate winced and shifted uncomfortably. He tried to calm himself, to brace himself for what was to come. He cursed up at the lights beating down on him, which seemed to be putting out the same, unbearable heat as the day before.
Once the room was adequately set up, Officer Silas signaled into his earpiece. The room cleared promptly as before, save for Officer Silas and his prisoner. He glanced at his data pad, tapping a few buttons, before sliding it onto the table. He straightened up, pacing confidently towards Brate. He placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you ready, Brate?” The smirk had returned. It sent a chill down Brate’s spine. “I’m looking forward to hearing more of what you have to tell us.”
The door behind them opened.
The narrow beak of a slug thrower slid into view. For less than a second, it held there, and the world seemed to slow down. Brate blinked once, twice, the light of the room overwhelming his eyesight each time as he did. The slug thrower was still there. Officer Silas didn’t appear to notice. It wasn’t the kind of weapon you saw on an Imperial ship. He felt sweat gathering at the back of his neck, on his forehead, down his back. The heat was getting unbearable again. He squeezed Brate’s shoulder hard, and, smirk still on his face, turned towards the table behind them.
The slug thrower found it’s mark as he did so.
It fired directly into Silas’ temple. Viscera splattered the wall before the sound of the shot even rang out. Brate felt a warm, wet substance splash his left cheek. Silas collapsed to the floor a moment later, crumpling like a trash in a compactor. Brate’s mouth fell open.
“Surprised?” A cocky voice rang out.
The barrel of the blaster lowered, and was replaced by a figure wearing an ill-fitting officer uniform. Moonlight blue skin smeared with blood glowed under the harsh light, facial contours separated by harsh lines of tattoos. Stark white teeth beamed at him.
“J-..Jaq?!” Brate spat in shock. The Zabrak approached, sliding the long-nosed weapon onto his back where it was strapped. He clicked a hydrospanner from his belt, flicking it gracefully in his hand as he stepped towards Brate. He knelt down, making short work of the cuffs on the chair.
“But...Jaq...how are you...here?” Brate said, almost choking on his words. He shakily rose from his seat, reflexively massaging his sore wrists. Jaq searched the downed Officer, tossing his weapon to Brate and pocketing a few credits.
“Imperial assholes tried to keep me down.” He chuckled, flicking his eyes playfully to Brate. “But when I heard you were in trouble, I went out of my way to grab you.”
They started down a hallway, Jaq lowering into a crouch as they started to pace quickly. Brate trailed after his liberator, his brain in auto-pilot as he loaded the blaster and held it against his chest. He shook his head to dispel the unpleasant memories that were fighting to resurface, forcing himself to focus on his next steps. Years of fighting for the rebels kicked in. Escape now, think later. Jaq effortlessly gunned down four troopers as they rounded a corner, not one blast missing. They bolted through the ship, taking out off-guard soldiers where they stood. They moved together as a unit, silently checking doors and signaling direction of travel. Curiously, no alarm sounded.
Minutes after he was freed, Brate was in the Hangar; the same one that he’d been in just days earlier, when he’d snuck onto the ship using a stolen tie fighter. The hangar was much the same, deserted but for a few stray troopers who were quickly dispatched. Jaq dashed towards a glaringly obvious intruder.
“You brought The Oberon to a Star Destroyer?!” Brate cried to Jaq in strangled disbelief. Their old ship was barely functional when they’d used it for runs between rebel bases half a decade ago, let alone now, for a rescue mission behind enemy lines. It was a sandy-beige cargo freighter, battle worn and ready for the scrap heap. All the Imperial ships around it, neatly arranged, made it look even more grimy and in disrepair. They sprinted up the entry ramp, not looking back to the reinforcement blaster fire whizzing around their head.
“We’ve got him. Get us out of here.” Jaq barked into a receiver near the door. An unknown voice answered in the affirmative, and the ship lurched as the engines began to fire. Brate felt a leap in his chest hearing those sounds again – the dull chugging, the warp drives warming up, Jaq’s excited panting next to him. They stumbled further into their vessel, holding themselves against each other for stability.
=====
There had been a pursuit of The Oberon from the Star Destroyer’s squadron, albeit a half-hearted one. Less than an hour after takeoff, the sound heavy fire against the hull died down. Both Brate and Jaq hunkered in the sleeping quarters, checking for injuries and taking stock.
“I’m alright. A shot just grazed me. Though...I feel very...warm.” Brate said. He closed his still-stinging eyes. As he spoke, his own voice came through muted, as though he were underwater. “To be honest, I feel like shit. My head hurts. That Officer...he...he fucked with my head somehow.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Jaq growled bitterly. He sat on the edge of the bunk opposite Brate, checking his slug thrower for damage. It was Jaq’s most frequently used piece of equipment - the kind of thing a person uses when they want to make a mess. “He looked like a real piece of work.”
Brate sighed. He glanced up at the Zabrak, and his vision seemed to clear, the roaring in his ears dying down to a groan. Honey-coloured eyes scanned the weapon in his hands a final time, and he set it aside. He flicked a curious look to Brate, cocking an eyebrow.
Brate bit his lip. “Jaq...” He breathed, his voice suddenly hoarse. He swallowed, unsure what to say. “I thought you were dead. What the hell happened? Where have you been?”
Jaq twisted his face in displeasure. He rubbed the back of his head, idly tracing one of the spines. “Uh...Here and there. I had to lay low for a while after that incident near Coruscant.Found myself with a huge target on my back. You know how it is.” Brate frowned as Jaq avoided eye contact, clearing his throat.
“Really?...That’s it?” Brate grimaced. He was incredulous. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”
“Yeah, well, this was different.” Jaq sighed. “I was being followed. By people who knew...a lot about me. But not just me. My team, my friends, the people closest to me…” He trailed off, wincing as he stared into the corner of the room. “I had to make myself disappear. I couldn’t risk the rebellion. I couldn’t risk anyone getting hurt trying to protect me. Least of all you.”
Brate squirmed in his place, conflicted. Jaq had been alive this whole time, knowingly abandoning his rebel unit and Brate, for years, without even a word, a signal, a sign that he was OK. But his words seemed genuine, tinged with regret and pain. It wouldn’t have been easy for Jaq to be alone. And it was true; there were people who wanted Jaq dead. Or worse.
Jaq eventually cleared his throat. “Man, this uniform is so fucking tight. No wonder all the Imperials look like they have hard-ons.” The tension between them shattered. Brate stifled a laugh. He leaned over and tugged the collar mockingly.
“You’re not wrong there. Where did you even get this?”
Jaq grinned. He kicked back onto the bunk, going into great detail on his rescue mission, vastly overplaying his forward planning and heroism. His story stretched backwards in time, reminiscing about their previous missions, vaguely talking about what he’d been doing in the interim. Brate’s pained expression softened as he listened, his body slowly calming the further away they got from the Star Destroyer. Just hearing his voice was enough to stop the headache, the stinging face, his pained wrists. There’s a reason I followed him from one side of the galaxy to the other, Brate thought. He watched the rise and fall of Jaq’s chest as he spoke, his lean, toned arms tucked behind his head, the way that uniform neatly outlined his-
Jaq sat bolt upright suddenly, slapping a knee, “-The most important thing is, I’m back, Brate.” He leaned forward, the bunks so close together that they were almost touching. His eyes seemed to shine with passion. “And I want to pick up right back where we left off. If you want, that is.” His voice softened at the earnest admission. He reached forward and placed a hand gingerly on Brate’s cheek.
Zabraks run colder than humans, you know, Jaq’s words from years ago echoed in his mind. He remembered jumping the first time they’d touched. He didn’t jump this time. The softness, the coolness of his skin was a welcome balm for the fevered heat that had started in that interrogation room and had never left. He relaxed his head against the hand, closing his eyes as the other hand slid around his waist.
“...Of course, Jaq” He sighed at their lips met briefly. Footsteps sounded somewhere on a deck overhead as they kissed, slow at first, but quickly making up for lost time. Jaq pulled Brate closer, relishing the growing need between them as a warm tongue pressed into his mouth.
“I’ve missed you so much.” Brate whispered as they parted. Without thinking, he rested a hand on Jaq’s lap, kneading and massaging his inner thigh. The firmness, the thickness made itself known against the tight uniform pants. Jaq smiled in amusement against Brate’s neck, where he sucked and teased.
“Oh?” He grinned, “You missed this?” He freed himself form the Officer’s uniform, holding his pale-blue erection at it’s base and stroking it. Without warning, Jaq sharply pulled Brate off the bunk, onto his knees, with surprising strength. The human rebel gasped at he did so, his cheeks flushed.
Brate’s breathed heavily with lust as he leaned closer. Over the years he’d fantasized about Jaq, reminiscing on their encounters. The time during training they’d hidden in a maintenance closet, with Jaq grabbing his head and using Brate’s throat to massage his cock. Or the time he’d been pinned against a speeder, his body exposed to the heat of the desert as Jaq had fucked him hard after a successful raid. Brate had cum himself almost instantly, driven crazy from being used. After their encounters, Jaq was attentive and surprisingly tender, wiping fluids and kissing bruises, ensuring he hadn’t gone too far. If anything, it’d never been enough for Brate. He’d used the pain, the ecstasy, as an escape from the stresses of rebel life. Now, it was here, again, in front of him, inviting him to run away from his latest trauma.
He buried himself in it.
At first he tried to savor it, letting out a satisfied moan as the girth filled his mouth. He swirled his tongue around, taking care with the underside, where he knew Jaq was most sensitive. He got a pleasured grunt from Jaq as a reward, his golden-toned eyes glittering down at him.
“You want it rough?” Jaq said. He ran his hand through Brate’s hair, who rolled his eyes at the comforting touch. Brate nodded, his moaned reply muffled by Jaq’s cock. “Good boy.” He replied.
The hand in Brate’s hair tightened, seizing a fistful. Brate felt his own erection jump with excitement as Jaq’s hand twisted, pulling his hair taut and moving Brate’s mouth further down the shaft. He resisted the gagging sensation as it slid to the back of his throat, getting thicker with every inch. Jaq’s length was modest, but the girth and slight ridges along the sides made him deeply satisfying. Though warmer than the rest of his body, Jaq’s cock was still soothing, cooling against the heat of his mouth. Brate inhaled deeply as he reached the hilt, taking in Jaq’s musk, mixed with the sweat and dirt of the day.
Jaq increased his rhythm, tugging harder on Brate’s hair. Brate’s staggered moans got louder, punctuated by the thrusts to his throat. He ached with desire, unconsciously rubbing his groin against the bunk Jaq was sitting on. He was unbearably close to coming.
“Take it, rebel scum,” Jaq grunted moments later. Jaq shuddered and his balls tightened against his body in anticipation. He thrusted a final time into Brate’s face, crushing his nose and choking him. He drew the dazed human back, resting the tip of his cock on his saliva-coated lips. Brate’s eyes flicked up at his lover and blinked.
In an instant, the hum of the The Oberon was gone. The uncomfortably bright incandescent lighting filled his peripheral vision. He could feel the metallic cuffs of the chair bite into his wrists as he strained against them. There was still a body standing over him, still a hard, throbbing cock at his mouth, spurting thick ropes of cum down his throat.
But where the officer uniform ended, the wry grin of Officer Silas stared back at him.
=====
He must’ve blacked out, because when he opened his eyes again, Jaq was at his side, and they were both sat on the floor. He looked deeply concerned. The Zabrak was no longer wearing the Officer uniform, having replaced them with a plain white shirt and utilitarian cargo pants.
“Hey, hey. Base to Brate Dallo,” Jaq’s voice was deep but quiet, “You with me?”
Brate was breathing heavily, his whole body trembling. Terrified eyes shot around his surroundings, and found the musty sleeping quarters of The Oberon. Old, stained lights flickered overhead. The cool floor beneath him was speckled with dirt and food debris. He stammered in confusion, though no logical words made it out.
“You’re okay, mate,” Jaq soothed. Brate felt a hand stroking his back gently.
He gasped for a few seconds longer, his chest tight with anxiety and confusion. He weaved a hand through his hair, wincing as he touched a sore spot. “...What...just...happened?” Brate whispered, his voice strained.
“We-uh…we were just fooling around, like normal…” Jaq’s face was knotted with concern and guilt. “I think you’re right – that Imperial guy...fucked with your head. You were acting like you were back on that Destroyer. You started screaming at me to help you, get you away. It was probably the Officer uniform.” He sniffed. He cautiously pulled himself closer to Brate’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Brate leaned into Jaq, who wove an arm around him. “No. It wasn’t you.” He whispered. His whole body felt sickeningly hot. His heart still pounded in his chest angrily, as though he were being chased. He put a hand to his mouth, wiping the sweat that gathered around his upper lip. “I felt it – I saw it. I saw him. I was there again. Shit. I need to see a doctor.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ll be back at base soon. Probably Alderaan.” Jaq’s voice seemed deeper as he spoke this time. The lighting in the room flickered again. Brate felt heat crawling at the back of his neck. Alderaan? But it was destroyed-
“What…? Alderaan…? Surely – surely you mean Alterran?” He corrected Jaq. He let out a dry chuckle, searching his mind, “The Alterran base is close, I guess-”
“Alterran?...Oh. Yeah, there.” Jaq nodded. After a moment, he clicked his teeth, shaking his head “Wait, no. We can’t. Too much heat.”
“Oh,” Brate said. He sighed, searching his mind. “Then...I guess...Uh...Tehuty?” He shuddered as he said it, thinking of the barren desert outpost. It wasn’t so much a base as it was a hole in the ground a few ships could park in. He’d spent the last three months there prior to boarding the Star Destroyer. He wasn’t keen to go back.
Jaq seemed to consider this. “Right. Tehuty, maybe. But isn’t that a bit...unprotected? I mean that has to be the second or third place on the Empire’s ‘easy to target’ lists, I’d think.” He said. “We need to go somewhere we can be safe, together, you know.” He squeezed Brate’s shoulder. A faint twinkle came in his eye as he lowered his voice “What about...what about HQ?”
Brate snorted, “Hoth?” He said incredulously. “You want to go to Hoth?”
Jaq grinned. “Yeah. Why not? We can hole up there together for a bit. Get you fixed up. If you know the co-ordinates-”
“-And what is the location of the base on Hoth?”
The clipped, authoritative voice cut through his consciousness like a scalpel. Silas leaned on the small table, typing on a data pad. He looked up curiously as Brate failed to reply. He motioned with his free hand. “You will tell me the location, Brate.”
Brate’s eyes fell downwards. The chair, with it’s shiny black covering and it’s harsh metal cuffs imprisoning his hands. The heat of the room and incandescent lighting bore down on him oppressively. His chest heaved. His groin, once again was stained with a humiliating puddle of moisture.His mouth was dry, raw-feeling, tasting vaguely of salt. Silas raised an eyebrow. He walked up to his prisoner, tilting his head back and pulling down his left eyelid, peering at the broken vessels.
“Hm.” Officer Silas clicked his teeth, “All spent, are you? No matter. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Thank you for the information.” He signaled for another cleaning droid, collecting his data pad and stalking out.