Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Force rippled around Sol like a predator circling its prey as he occupied one of the many meditation chambers on Coruscant. His hands were folded peacefully in his lap, unaware that across the galaxy, something had awoken and had finally found him.

He knelt in the meditation chamber, legs folded beneath him, hands resting on his knees as he sought the familiar peace of communion with the living energy that bound all things.

The temple around him hummed with quiet reverence and the sound of distant footsteps in corridors, the soft whisper of robes against stone, and the gentle murmur of other Jedi in their own contemplative practices. Everything was as it should be, everything as it always was.

Until it wasn't.

The first touch was subtle, a ghostly caress between his thighs that made him gasp and open his eyes. Sol looked around the empty chamber, heart racing.

Nothing. No one. The carved walls stared back at him with their ancient serenity, offering no explanation for the impossible sensation.

"What—" Sol's breath caught as the sensation intensified, phantom fingers parting his folds with deliberate slowness. His hands flew to his lap, pressing against his clothed sex, but there was nothing there, nothing but empty air and the growing wetness between his legs.

Then the presence pushed inside him.

Sol's back arched involuntarily as something entered and stretched him open, as if testing the heat of newfound territory. Throughout it all, his robes remained undisturbed, his body untouched by any physical form, yet every nerve screamed with the reality of being intimately touched, possessed by an invisible force that knew exactly where to press to make him writhe.

"What is this?" Sol gasped, his carefully maintained composure crumbling as the phantom presence began to move inside him with ruthless precision. Each movement caused a sweet friction that sent shockwaves through his core, hitting a spot that made his vision blur and his omega nature sing with desperate need, fighting against the trained suppression of such instincts by the Jedi regime.

He tried to stand, to escape whatever madness had overtaken him, but his legs trembled and gave out. The sensation followed him down, never relenting, driving deeper and even seeming to add another finger, as if his submission only fueled its hunger.

Sol's hands scrambled at his robes, seeking some physical anchor to reality, trying to push away something that he can’t even touch.

But the invisible pressure only increased as another finger was pushed in too suddenly and too soon, spreading his inner walls with merciless intensity and causing Sol to throw his head back and cry out, eyes wide as the stretch consumed him with pain that bled into unbearable pleasure. He fell forward, his fingers digging into the meditation mat beneath him, knuckles white with strain as he squirmed and trembled.

"Force preserve me," he whimpered, biting his lower lip to stifle the moans threatening to escape. The phantom presence seemed to respond to his restraint, doubling its efforts until Sol could feel himself being brought to heights of pleasure beyond what he thought could be physically possible.

His orgasm crashed through him without warning, violent and all-consuming. Slick gushed from his cunt, soaking through his leggings as his body convulsed. The fingers suddenly left, leaving him bereft and empty, cold and somehow lonely.

"What's happening to me?" he whispered to the empty room, his voice ragged. The meditation chamber offered no answers, only silent witness to his undoing.

Sol struggled to his feet, legs shaking like a newborn fawn's. His soaked leggings clung uncomfortably to his thighs as he moved with careful, measured steps toward the chamber door. He paused, gathering his composure, adjusting his outer robe to hide the evidence of what had just transpired.

The corridors were mercifully empty as Sol made his way to the bathing chambers, each step sending new waves of sensation through him, for his oversensitive flesh had never felt such ecstasy during his tenure as a Jedi. He pressed his lips together to stifle any sound, maintaining the serene mask expected of a Jedi Master even as his body betrayed him with every movement.

The bathing chamber door sealed behind him with a soft hiss, and Sol finally allowed himself to breathe. His hands shook as he peeled away his outer robes, the fabric damp with perspiration.

He pressed a trembling hand between his thighs, fingers coming away with more slick than he ever thought he could produce, smelling sweet and musky. His cunt felt swollen and tender, stretched for the first time by something that existed only in the Force yet felt more real than his own heartbeat.

The hot water of the bath welcomed him as Sol sank into its depths, a sigh escaping his lips as the warmth enveloped his trembling form. He leaned back against the smooth stone edge, allowing the water to wash away the evidence of his inexplicable experience. Steam rose around him, creating a cocoon of privacy in the communal space.

"What manner of Force manipulation is this?" he whispered to himself, eyes closed as he tried to center his thoughts. The Jedi teachings spoke of many mysteries, but nothing like this. Nothing so carnal, so intimate, so overwhelming.

His momentary peace shattered as the presence returned without warning. Sol's eyes flew open, a strangled gasp escaping his throat as he felt himself being penetrated once more by something much, much larger.

The phantom cock slid into him, for such a girth could only be a cock. His body accepted it, stretched and hugged it tightly but still loose and receptive from before. Still, whatever was entering him felt impossibly large as it stretched his inner walls, seeming to be too impatient to wait for Sol to adjust as it started moving.

"No, not here—" he hissed, eyes darting to the door in panic. His hands gripped the edge of the bath as the invisible force moved inside him, rhythmic and relentless.

Sol's legs parted of their own accord, his body betraying him as pleasure coursed through his veins. He reached down, fingers trembling as they slipped beneath the water to touch himself where the sensation was most intense.

His fingertips confirmed what his mind refused to accept. His entrance was stretched wide around nothing, the muscles taut and yielding to an invasion that existed only in the Force. Yet the feeling was undeniable, hot and hard and pulsing inside him with deliberate, measured thrusts that seemed to know exactly how to make him unravel.

"Force help me," Sol whispered, head falling back as the phantom cock drove deeper. His resistance crumbled with each thrust, pleasure building in waves that threatened to drown him. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming intensity of sensation that refused to abate no matter how he struggled and shifted his hips away.

The sound of the door sliding open froze Sol mid-gasp.

"Oh, Master Sol, I'm sorry to intrude upon your bathing time."

Sol recognized the voice immediately: Yord, one of the younger knights, standing hesitantly in the doorway. The phantom presence inside him stilled but remained firmly embedded, as if observing this new development with curious interest.

"Do you mind if I use the shower? Training was quite strenuous today. And, um—muddy." Yord continued, his tone respectful.

Sol snapped his legs closed beneath the water, hunching his shoulders and keeping his gaze fixed downward. The presence within him pulsed once, testing, and Sol bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

"No, please go ahead." Sol's voice was a miracle of control, betraying nothing of the molten pressure building inside him.

Yord nodded gratefully, moving toward the shower stalls at the far end of the chamber. The sound of running water soon filled the room, providing a merciful mask for the small, involuntary sounds escaping Sol's throat as the phantom cock resumed its rhythm, slower now but no less devastating.

Sol gripped the edge of the bath until his knuckles whitened, every muscle tensed against the need to arch and writhe. The presence seemed to delight in his predicament, angling its thrusts to strike that perfect spot that made his vision blur. He bit his lip hard, tasting copper, as a particularly deep stroke nearly broke his composure.

Through half-lidded eyes, Sol caught Yord glancing in his direction. The younger Jedi's expression held concern, and perhaps something more, something that made Sol's cheeks burn with a different kind of heat.

"Are you okay, Master Sol? I'm sorry if my presence is causing discomfort," Yord called over the sound of running water.

The phantom cock chose that moment to push deeper, making Sol's breath hitch. He forced his features into a mask of serenity that belied the chaos within.

"No, I am just... relaxing... please don't mind me," Sol managed, each word a victory against the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

Yord returned to his shower, but Sol could feel the younger Jedi's attention still partially fixed on him. The presence inside him seemed amused by this development, settling into a rhythm that was slow enough to keep Sol from crying out but relentless enough to keep him balanced on the knife-edge of release.

Minutes stretched like hours as Sol fought to maintain his composure, each subtle thrust of the phantom cock bringing him closer to the edge. The water around him rippled with his suppressed trembling, tiny wavelets betraying what his face struggled to conceal.

When Yord finally turned off the shower, Sol nearly sobbed with both relief and frustration. The younger Jedi wrapped a towel around his waist, water droplets glistening on his shoulders. He moved toward the exit, passing close to the bath where Sol sat imprisoned by invisible pleasure.

Yord paused, his brow furrowing as he noticed the tears that Sol could no longer contain slipping down his flushed cheeks.

"Master, are you alright?" Yord asked, his hand hovering uncertainly near Sol's shoulder.

The presence inside Sol chose that precise moment to thrust with savage force, driving so deep that Sol's entire body flinched upward. A whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it, the sound echoing off the chamber walls.

His carefully maintained composure shattered as frustration boiled over.

"Yes, I am fine. Please, if you don't mind, I am trying to relax," Sol snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. The words came out breathless and strained, barely concealing the desperation clawing at his chest.

Yord recoiled as if struck, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Of course, Master. My apologies," he stammered, bowing quickly before hurrying toward the exit. The door sealed behind him with a soft hiss, leaving Sol alone once more.

The moment privacy returned, Sol's restraint crumbled completely. His legs fell open beneath the water as a ragged moan tore from his throat.

The phantom presence responded immediately, driving into him with renewed vigor, as if rewarding him for enduring such exquisite torment. Sol's hands clawed at the smooth stone edges of the bath, his back arching as the water sloshed violently around him.

"Yes, yes, please," he gasped, beyond caring who might hear him now. His hips rose to meet each brutal thrust, chasing the pleasure that had been denied him during Yord's presence. The phantom cock seemed to grow within him, stretching him wider, reaching deeper than before.

Sol's hand slipped beneath the water, fingers finding his swollen clit. The lightest touch sent shockwaves through his system, his inner walls clenching around the invisible intrusion.

"Force, I can't—I can't—"

The words dissolved into incoherent moans as his second orgasm crashed through him, powerful enough to make his vision go dark at the edges. But the presence didn't stop. If anything, it grew more insistent, more demanding.

Sol felt it then, the unmistakable swell of a knot forming, stretching him impossibly wider. His fingers scrambled down, touching where his entrance was being forced open. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed made him sob with desperate need.

"Who are you?" he whispered to the empty room, to the Force itself, his voice sounding as wrecked as his body felt. "What are you doing to me?"

The knot locked inside him with finality, causing Sol to yelp as it ground against that perfect spot that made his toes curl and his back arch.

It was too much, forcing him to feel both an intense pressure and a crescendo of pleasure that rocked through Sol’s frame. Another orgasm ripped through him, more intense than the last one, leaving him boneless and gasping. Then he felt hot, thick fluid flooded his insides, so real he could feel it filling him, marking him from within.

Sol lay in the water, barely conscious, as the phantom knot continued to pulse inside him. The bath water had grown cool, reality gradually seeping back into his awareness as the intensity of his experience began to fade. His limbs felt leaden, his mind foggy with the aftermath of pleasure so intense it bordered on spiritual.

But he couldn’t stay here. Despite the endorphins muddling his brain, his omega instincts felt vulnerable, locked on a knot but no actual alphan presence to protect him.

With trembling arms, Sol pulled himself from the bath. Water cascaded from his skin as he stood on unsteady legs, the phantom knot still firmly lodged within him. Each movement sent aftershocks of pleasure-pain through his oversensitive body. He reached for a towel, dabbing weakly at his flushed skin.

"I need to get back to my quarters," he whispered to himself, the sound of his own voice startling in the quiet chamber.

Dressing proved nearly impossible with the invisible presence still claiming him from within. Sol abandoned any thought of proper Jedi attire, settling instead for a simple tunic that he could wrap around himself with. The tunic settled around his shoulders like a whisper, the soft fabric barely containing his trembling form. His hands shook as he pulled his outer robe tight around his body, the heavy material masking the way his legs wobbled with each careful step.

The journey to his quarters felt endless. Each footfall sent tremors through his core where the phantom knot remained locked inside him, a constant reminder of his impossible situation. Sol pressed one hand against the wall for support as he navigated the temple corridors, the other clutching his robe closed. His breathing came in shallow gasps, the effort of walking while so thoroughly filled testing the limits of his endurance.

A pair of padawans passed him in the hallway, bowing respectfully. Sol managed a nod in return, though he couldn't trust his voice to offer proper greetings.

They continued on their way, oblivious to their Master's predicament, and Sol sagged against the wall in relief once they were gone.

By the time he reached his quarters, Sol's legs were barely supporting him. The door sealed behind him with blessed finality, and he stumbled toward his sleeping alcove. The phantom knot pulsed within him as he collapsed onto the narrow bed, sending fresh waves of sensation through his oversensitized nerves.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered into the darkness, though he wasn't sure if he was addressing the Force or whatever entity had claimed him so thoroughly.

As if in answer, he felt phantom breath against his ear, warm and intimate. Invisible lips pressed against the scent gland at his throat, and Sol shivered as his omega nature responded instinctively to the phantom alpha's claim.

The knot began to soften gradually, but the presence didn't withdraw. Instead, it settled deeper, as if making itself at home within his body. Sol's eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion claiming him as surely as the phantom presence had. As consciousness began to slip away, he felt a voice, not heard with his ears but resonating directly within his mind.

Mine.

A single word, but it carried the weight of a thousand stars, burning with possession and triumph. Sol shuddered, a final tremor running through him as darkness claimed his consciousness.

His last coherent thought was that he should be terrified, should be fighting against this invasion, but instead, some primal part of him wanted to surrender completely.

—

Qimir withdrew from the Force bond with reluctance, his physical body trembling with the aftereffects of such intense connection. His cock still throbbed, sensitive and spent after emptying itself while his consciousness had been elsewhere. The evidence of his release pooled on the polished floor beneath him, marking the success of his hunt.

Qimir rose from his meditation platform, legs slightly unsteady as the physical world reasserted itself around him. The private chamber aboard his vessel hummed with subdued energy, the lights dimmed to accommodate his deep trance. His robes clung to his sweat-slicked skin, evidence of the exertion required to project himself across such vast distances.

He had almost given up hope of finding his omega, his perfect match. Then the Force bond had flared to life so suddenly during his meditation that he'd nearly lost control of his focus completely.

One moment he'd been drifting through cosmic currents, the next he'd sensed that unmistakable presence: an omega signature so pure, so perfect, it could only belong to his destined mate. He followed its trail like a bloodhound and found the most perfect being on the other end, so powerful and so pretty.

"Found you," he murmured, a predatory smile curving his lips as he stretched his tense frame, pulling his arms across his chest and cracking his neck as he stood.

He couldn’t wait to visit him again.

Chapter Text

Sol's body had betrayed him so completely that he no longer bothered fighting it. Each night, as darkness fell across the temple grounds, his hands would tremble with anticipation, skin already flushing with heat before the first phantom touch even arrived.

The ritual had become as natural as breathing. He would retire to his quarters, secure the door, and strip away his Jedi robes with shaking fingers. Then he would wait, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours, until the first ghostly caress made him gasp.

Sometimes it began with fingers, invisible digits that traced the curve of his spine, teased along his inner thighs, or dipped between his folds with deliberate slowness until he was whimpering and wet. Other nights, it started with a tongue, hot and demanding against his neck, his nipples, between his legs, lapping at his slick until his thighs quivered with need. But it always, always ended the same way: with that thick, phantom cock splitting him open, filling him so completely that he forgot his own name.

Sol had learned to muffle his cries in his pillow, teeth marks scoring the fabric from nights when the pleasure became too much to bear silently. His fingers would clutch desperately at nothing as invisible hands gripped his hips, holding him steady for each brutal thrust. The phantom alpha seemed to delight in testing his limits, sometimes gentle and coaxing, other times rough and demanding until Sol was sobbing with overstimulation.

The worst part—or perhaps the best—was how perfectly the presence knew his body. Every sensitive spot, every angle that made him see stars, every rhythm that brought him to the edge only to pull him back again. It was as if this invisible mate had studied him for years, memorizing every response, cataloging every weakness.

Sol had lost track of how many nights it had been. Twenty? Thirty? The encounters blurred together in a haze of desperate pleasure and shame. His meditation practice suffered, his focus fractured by phantom sensations that would strike at the most inopportune moments. During council meetings, he would feel ghostly fingers trailing along his thighs, forcing him to grip the arms of his chair until his knuckles went white. In the middle of lightsaber instruction, phantom lips would press against his scent gland, making him stumble mid-form.

The other Masters had begun to notice his distraction, though they attributed it to stress or overwork. Master Vernestra had even suggested he take a sabbatical, her kind eyes filled with concern as she noted the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way his hands shook when he thought no one was looking.

But how could he explain that he was being claimed nightly by a force he couldn't see or touch, yet felt more intensely than anything in his waking life?

Then, without warning, the visitations stopped.

The first night of silence left Sol tossing restlessly, his body primed and ready for a touch that never came.

He told himself it was relief washing through him as dawn broke. Finally, freedom from this torment. Yet by the third night, relief had curdled into something darker. He found himself spreading his legs at the faintest draft, imagining phantom fingers where there were none.

A week passed. Then another. Sol's dreams grew fevered, filled with shadowy figures and grasping hands that dissolved upon waking. His body ached with emptiness, an insistent hollow sensation that meditation couldn't fill. His omega instincts, long suppressed beneath Jedi discipline, howled their abandonment.

"You seem... improved, Master Sol," Yord observed, his gaze lingering a moment too long as they passed in the temple corridor. "Your focus has returned to your teachings."

Sol managed a thin smile, the irony of the statement not lost on him. "Thank you, Yord. I've been... sleeping better."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. In truth, he hadn't slept properly in weeks. Each night was a cycle of anticipation, disappointment, and an emptiness that gnawed at him from within. His body had grown accustomed to being filled, claimed, used, and now it rebelled against the absence.

"I'm glad to hear it," Yord replied, though his eyes reflected doubt. "The younglings have missed your guidance."

Sol nodded and continued down the corridor, his robes swishing against the stone floor. Behind the serene facade he presented, his thoughts churned like a turbulent sea. Where had his phantom alpha gone? Had it all been some bizarre Force anomaly, now dissipated like morning mist? Or worse—had the presence found another, more willing vessel for its attentions?

That evening, Sol knelt in his meditation chamber, desperate to find the center that had once come so easily. The Force flowed around him, through him, but it felt different now, as if a current had shifted, leaving him adrift in unfamiliar waters. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he'd been taught since childhood.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," he whispered, the familiar mantra hollow in his ears.

His consciousness expanded outward, seeking that elusive tranquility. Instead, he found himself drawn to something else: a tether, gossamer-thin yet unbreakable, stretching away from him into the cosmic distance. Sol hesitated, Jedi caution warring with omega need. This connection… had it always been there, waiting for him to notice? Or had his phantom lover left this trail deliberately, a breadcrumb path for him to follow?

Before reason could reassert itself, Sol reached for the bond, his consciousness traveling along its length with breathtaking speed. Stars blurred past, systems and sectors falling away as he was pulled across the galaxy like a stone in a slingshot.

The journey ended abruptly. Sol found himself standing—or rather, his consciousness stood—in an unfamiliar space. A merchant's shop, its shelves lined with exotic herbs and artifacts that seemed to hum with latent energy. The air smelled of incense and something else, something primal that made his phantom form shiver with recognition.

And there, behind a counter stood a man who made Sol's consciousness flicker like a candle in strong wind.

Tall and lean, with sharp features that seemed carved from pale marble, the man radiated power despite his unassuming merchant's garb. His greasy black hair hung in two curtains framing his face, yet somehow the disheveled look only enhanced his beauty, like a predator who had no need for preening. Dark eyes, the color of rich soil after rain, fixed on a point in the empty air where Sol's consciousness hovered.

Those eyes widened slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through them before his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

Sol tried to retreat, suddenly terrified by the realization of what he'd done, but the connection held him fast. This was no random merchant. The alpha pheromones radiating from him were unmistakable, even across the astral bridge between them it was the same scent that had haunted Sol's dreams, phantom though it had been.

"I told you I'd be right back with those Corellian silks, Qimir. The supplier was being a complete ass about the price, but I managed to—" A woman's voice cut through Sol's stunned observation.

Sol's consciousness flickered with shock. Osha? But no, this Force signature was different, more tumultuous and wild. Without a doubt in Sol’s heart, this was Mae, Osha’s long lost twin sister.

It couldn't be, but it was. This was the same Mae who he thought had died so long ago, after his failure to save her. But here she stood, very much alive, her familiar face, an exact copy of her twin sister, his ex-padawan’s. It was interesting to see a face so similar to Osha’s, who always looked at him with respect and reverence, twisted in its perpetual half-sneer as Mae dropped a bundle onto the counter.

"Not now," Qimir said, his voice low and melodic, yet edged with unmistakable command. His eyes never left the space where Sol's presence hovered.

Mae paused, her brow furrowing. "What's gotten into you?”

"I need the shop cleared," Qimir said, his tone brooking no argument. His eyes remained fixed on the empty space before him, though his posture had shifted. More predatory now, coiled with restrained energy.

Mae snorted, tossing her hair back. "Cleared? For what? Another one of your drunken séances with the spirits?" She mimicked taking a swig from an invisible bottle. "The last time you claimed to commune with the beyond, you ended up passed out among those Kashyyyk artifacts, drooling all over that wookiee ceremonial mask."

"Out. Now." Qimir's voice dropped an octave, carrying a weight that seemed to press against Sol's ethereal form. The command in his voice was unmistakable, pure alpha authority that made Sol's nonexistent knees weaken.

"Fine, fine." Mae raised her hands in mock surrender. "Have your little moment of madness. Just don't break anything valuable this time." She snatched a small pouch from the counter. "I'll be at the cantina. Try not to scare away any actual paying customers with your nonsense."

Sol watched her leave, his ethereal form trembling with conflicting emotions. Mae was alive. All this time, she'd been alive, while he'd carried the weight of her supposed death. Relief mingled with sharp guilt—had he not searched hard enough? Had he abandoned her too quickly? But beneath these thoughts ran a current of primal recognition as Qimir's attention focused entirely on him.

The door sealed with a soft click, and Qimir's posture changed instantly. The merchant's mask fell away like shed skin, revealing the predator beneath. His shoulders straightened, power radiating from every line of his body as he turned to face the space where Sol's consciousness flickered.

"Hello, sweet thing," Qimir purred, his voice honey and velvet wrapped around steel. The endearment sent shivers through Sol's astral form, phantom nerves he shouldn't possess singing with recognition.

Sol's consciousness wavered, part of him desperate to flee back to the safety of his temple chamber, but a larger part, the omega part that had been starving in silence, drew him closer. His phantom form drifted forward, invisible fingers reaching out to brush against Qimir's forearm.

The alpha's breath hitched, goosebumps rising along his skin where Sol's touch landed. "There you are," Qimir breathed, his eyes following the sensation though they couldn't see its source. "I've missed you terribly."

Sol's invisible fingers continued their exploration, trailing up Qimir's arm to his shoulder, then his neck. When they brushed against the alpha's scent gland, Qimir's reaction was immediate: a full-body shudder, eyes fluttering closed as his head tilted to expose more of his throat.

"Yes," he hissed, pleasure evident in his voice. "You've found me at last."

Sol's ethereal touch paused at Qimir's cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that belied the storm of emotions raging through him. This was the being who had claimed him night after night, who had driven him to the edge of madness with pleasure so intense it bordered on spiritual. This man with his sharp features and knowing eyes had somehow bridged the vast distances between them, violating every boundary Sol had built as a Jedi.

And yet, Sol couldn't pull away.

"What do you need, lovely?" Qimir tilted his cheek into Sol's phantom palm, his skin warm like the morning sun beneath Sol's intangible touch. "You've come all this way. Tell me what you desire."

Sol couldn't speak, not in this form, but his intentions flowed through the connection between them. His ethereal touch withdrew from Qimir's face, trailing downward with hesitant curiosity. Fingers ghosted over the alpha's chest, feeling the strong heartbeat beneath, then lower still, tracing the flat plane of his abdomen before reaching the waistband of his trousers.

Qimir's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Did you miss me? I'm sorry," he chuckle. Qimir's hands moved to his own waistband, unfastening the closures with practiced ease. "Yes, that's it," he encouraged as Sol's phantom touch hesitated at the bulge straining against the fabric. "Don't be shy now. We're well past that, aren't we?"

The trousers fell away, and Qimir groaned as Sol's invisible fingers shyly wrapped around his hardening length. "There you go," he breathed, his cock twitching in response to the ethereal touch. "Feel how it responds to you? Even across the stars, it knows who it belongs to."

Sol's consciousness flickered with shock at the size of the alpha, so much larger than he'd imagined during those nights of phantom penetration. His ghostly fingers traced the thick veins, explored the flared head, measured the impressive girth that had stretched him so thoroughly night after night.

"Yes, this has been inside of you so many times, it misses your warmth so much," Qimir continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned back against the counter, allowing Sol's exploration to continue. "I'm sorry I've been away, caused both of us suffering, hm?"

Sol's ethereal touch grew bolder, wrapping fully around Qimir's length, feeling it pulse with life beneath his phantom grip. The connection between them hummed with shared desire, memories of countless nights flooding through their bond: Sol's gasps, Qimir's growls, the perfect rhythm they'd established across impossible distance.

Emboldened by these shared memories, Sol's consciousness shifted, attempting to position his astral form over Qimir's impressive length. The alpha sensed his intention immediately, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Eager, aren't you?" Qimir chuckled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through Sol's astral form. "But wait, sweet one. You're too tight for me right now."

Sol's phantom form trembled with frustration above him, the need to be filled overwhelming after weeks of emptiness. He could feel his physical body, planets away, clenching around nothing as his slick gathered between his thighs.

"You need to stretch yourself first," Qimir instructed, his cock twitching eagerly beneath Sol's invisible touch. "Let me feel you prepare yourself for me."

Sol's consciousness withdrew reluctantly, focusing inward on his physical form kneeling in the meditation chamber. His hands moved as if guided by another's will, sliding beneath his robes to find the wetness between his legs. One finger slipped inside easily, then two, stretching an ache that had been empty for too long.

Back in the shop, Qimir's breath came in harsh pants as he felt Sol's preparation through their bond. "That's it," he encouraged, his cock throbbing in anticipation. "Add another finger. I want to feel you open yourself for me."

Sol obeyed, three fingers now working inside his physical body while his consciousness hovered above Qimir's straining length. The dual sensations, physical preparation and astral desire, threatened to overwhelm him completely.

"Good," Qimir praised, his voice rough with need. "Now come to me."

Sol's astral form descended slowly, positioning himself over Qimir's cock. Even stretched, the phantom breach was intense, his consciousness flickering as he felt that familiar fullness begin to claim him. Qimir's head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips as he felt Sol envelop him. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening as Sol's astral form took him inch by inch.

"Force," Qimir gasped, his cock twitching inside Sol's phantom heat. "You feel... incredible."

Sol settled fully onto him, his incorporeal form adjusting to the intrusion. It was different this way. before, Qimir had projected himself to Sol, but now Sol was the visitor, the one who had traveled across stars to find his phantom lover. The sensation was both familiar and entirely new, like coming home to a place he'd only seen in dreams.

Sol began to move, lifting his astral form before sinking back down, establishing a rhythm that made Qimir's breathing stutter. The alpha's hips bucked upward instinctively, seeking more of the phantom heat that surrounded him.

"That's it," Qimir groaned, his cock straining upward into the invisible warmth. "Take what you need from me."

Sol couldn't help but notice how utterly vulnerable Qimir looked: powerful arms braced against the counter, head thrown back in ecstasy, completely at the mercy of a presence he couldn't see or touch. It was a reversal of their usual dynamic, and Sol found himself intoxicated by this newfound control.

His astral form rose and fell with increasing confidence, setting a pace that had Qimir panting. Through their connection, Sol could feel the alpha's desperation mounting, the need to grab, to hold, to dominate as he always had during their nocturnal encounters. But here, Qimir could only receive what Sol chose to give him.

"I wish I could see you," Qimir whispered, his eyes searching the empty air above him. "I wish I could touch you properly, hold you while you ride me like this." His voice cracked with longing, hands flexing helplessly at his sides. "But feeling you like this… Force, you're perfect. So tight, so warm. My sweet omega, finally coming to claim what's yours."

Sol's phantom form shuddered at the possessive words, his movements becoming more erratic as pleasure built between them. Through their bond, he could feel Qimir's frustration at being unable to guide the pace, unable to grip Sol's hips and slam him down harder onto his aching cock.

"You're torturing me, lovely," Qimir gasped, his hips jerking upward in desperate little thrusts. "Taking me so softly when all I want is to bury myself deep inside you until you scream."

The raw need in Qimir's voice sent shivers through Sol's astral form, making him tighten around the alpha's length. A growl rumbled from Qimir's chest, his eyes darkening as he stared up at the empty space where he could feel Sol riding him.

"You like that, don't you?" Qimir panted, his cock twitching inside Sol's phantom heat. "Knowing how desperately I want to claim you properly. To fill you so completely you'll never forget who you belong to."

Sol's pace quickened, his ethereal body bouncing on Qimir's cock with growing urgency. In his meditation chamber light-years away, his physical form trembled, three fingers buried deep inside himself as he chased the phantom fullness.

"You are exquisite. Every moan, every gasp, every tremor of your body when I'm inside you—they're all perfect."

Qimir's words flowed over him like warm honey, seeping into the cracks of his Jedi resolve. Sol's astral form clenched tighter around the alpha's length, drawing a hiss of pleasure from those perfect lips.

"I love the way your eyes go glassy when I hit that spot deep inside you," Qimir continued, his cock pulsing with each word. "The way your lips part, desperate for breath. The flush that spreads across your chest, up your neck, to those beautiful cheeks."

Sol's movements grew erratic, his incorporeal form shuddering as Qimir's praise washed over him. In his meditation chamber, his physical body rocked against his own fingers, chasing a pleasure that seemed to exist between worlds.

"Listen to me, omega," Qimir commanded, voice dropping to a hypnotic purr that seemed to vibrate through Sol's very essence. "You're mine," Qimir growled, his voice rough with mounting pleasure as he was subjected to Sol’s desperate pace. "The moment I catch your scent in person, consider yourself claimed. The moment I see you with my own eyes, start preparing yourself for what comes next."

Sol's phantom form quivered above him, tightening impossibly around Qimir's length. The alpha's words painted visions in his mind, of being pushed against a wall, Qimir's teeth at his throat, his legs wrapped around that powerful waist as he was filled completely, properly, with nothing ethereal between them.

"The moment we finally touch," Qimir continued, his breath coming in harsh pants now, "will be heavenly. I'll make you forget your own name, your precious Code, everything but the feel of me inside you."

Sol's pace became frantic, his astral form bouncing on Qimir's cock with an urgency that matched the alpha's words. Qimir's hips bucked upward, seeking deeper penetration into the phantom heat that gripped him so perfectly.

"That's it," Qimir groaned, his head thrown back, exposing the strong column of his throat. "Take what you need from me. Use me, omega."

Sol's consciousness flickered as pleasure mounted, his physical body trembling in the meditation chamber as his astral form rode Qimir with increasing desperation. The dual sensations, of fingers working inside his physical form while his consciousness engulfed Qimir's length, created a feedback loop of pleasure that threatened to tear him apart.

"I can feel how close you are," Qimir panted, his cock throbbing inside Sol's phantom heat. "Your body clenches around me so perfectly when you're about to come. Did you know that? How your inner walls flutter just before you break? Like you're trying to milk every drop from me?"

Sol's rhythm faltered as the words sent shockwaves through his ethereal form. The sensation of being so thoroughly known, so completely understood, was more intimate than the physical act itself. His consciousness pulsed around Qimir's length, drawing a broken moan from the alpha's lips.

"Yes, just like that," Qimir encouraged, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "Let go for me, lovely. Let me feel you come around my cock."

In his meditation chamber, Sol's physical body arched off the floor, his fingers driving deeper as his walls clenched in rhythmic pulses. The pleasure crescendoed, crashing through both his physical form and astral projection simultaneously.

Qimir felt it the moment Sol's release crashed through their bond. A supernova of pleasure that triggered his own climax instantly. His cock jerked violently, spilling onto his abdomen and the shop floor as he groaned through clenched teeth, hips bucking into empty air that somehow held all the heat and pressure of his omega's perfect body.

"Force," he gasped, one hand braced against the counter as the other instinctively reached up to grasp at where he sensed Sol's presence. His fingers passed through empty space, and the frustration of being unable to hold his mate only intensified the pleasure-pain of his release. he leaned back, knuckles white as he grasped the counter in frustration but breathing heavily, opting to show comfort to his overstimulated omega, not wanting to scare him away. "That's it, sweet one. Take everything."

Sol's consciousness flickered like a candle in strong wind from the intensity of his dual orgasm, both physical and astral, threatening to snap the tenuous connection between them. He could feel his physical body convulsing in his meditation chamber, slick coating his fingers as his walls clenched around nothing but memory. His astral form trembled above Qimir, barely maintaining coherence as aftershocks rippled through both planes of existence.

"Stay with me," Qimir commanded, his voice hoarse but firm. Even spent and trembling, the alpha's authority cut through Sol's post-orgasmic haze. "Don't you dare fade away now."

Sol's consciousness solidified slightly at the command, his phantom form still perched atop Qimir's softening length. The shop around them seemed to pulse with residual energy from their joining, ancient artifacts humming in response to the Force disturbance they'd created.

"That's better," Qimir murmured, his breathing gradually slowing. His hand moved through the space where he sensed Sol's presence, palm flat as if trying to cup an invisible cheek. "I can feel you slipping, lovely. The distance is too great to maintain this connection for long, isn't it?"

Sol's astral form leaned into the touch he couldn't fully feel, craving more connection even as he felt his consciousness being pulled back toward his physical body. Through their bond, he projected his frustration, his need for answers about Mae, about Qimir himself, about everything that had happened between them.

"So many questions," Qimir chuckled, his expression softening as he sensed Sol's turmoil. "We'll have time for all of them soon enough." His eyes darkened, something predatory flickering across his features. "Because now that I've tasted you like this, felt you come to me willingly... I'm coming for you, sweet one."

Sol's astral form shuddered at the promise in those words, equal parts terror and anticipation flooding through the bond between them. Before he could project a response, Qimir's hand moved to his own chest, pressing against the skin where Sol sensed a permanent mark, not visible to the eye, but branded into his very essence through the Force.

"You've left your signature on me," Qimir said, voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "Every time we've joined, you've been writing yourself into my soul. Did you know that?" His fingers traced invisible patterns on his skin. "I could find you now even if you severed our bond completely. You're part of me."

The revelation sent shockwaves through Sol's consciousness. He hadn't realized, had never intended to mark the alpha in return. Yet as Qimir spoke, Sol became aware of a corresponding mark on his own essence, a brand that pulsed with Qimir's presence even across the vast distance between them.

"And I'm part of you." Qimir's eyes narrowed with satisfaction, tracking the subtle shifts in the Force that betrayed Sol's realization. "Bound together through the Force in ways your Jedi Masters never taught you."

Sol's consciousness flickered, the strain of maintaining the connection beginning to take its toll. His ethereal form wavered above Qimir, growing more translucent with each passing moment.

"You're fading, lovely," Qimir observed, his expression softening as he tucked himself back into his trousers. "Don't fight it. Return to your body. Rest. We’ll find each other soon enough."

The promise in those words sent a shiver through Sol's fading presence.

"How soon?" Sol's thought projected across the bond, desperate and fearful all at once.

Qimir's smile curved slow and predatory, his eyes tracking the last wisps of Sol's fading presence. "Sooner than your Jedi Council would like. Later than my hunger demands." He leaned forward, lips parting as if to kiss the empty air. "But exactly when you need me most."

The connection snapped with brutal finality. Sol crashed back into his physical body with such force that he toppled sideways onto the meditation chamber floor. His limbs trembled uncontrollably, fingers still buried deep inside himself, soaked with evidence of his release. The emptiness hit him like a physical blow, no longer filled by Qimir's presence, either phantom or astral.

"Force preserve me," Sol whispered, voice ragged as he curled into himself. His body felt hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive with the memory of Qimir's touch. Sol dragged himself to his knees, then to his feet, swaying like a sapling in strong wind. The meditation chamber spun around him, reality reasserting itself with crushing weight after the weightlessness of astral projection.

"Mae," he whispered, the name tasting both familiar and strange on his tongue. All these years, he'd carried the burden of her supposed death: the failed mission, the collapse, the certainty that no one could have survived. Yet there she'd been, alive and apparently working alongside the very alpha who had been haunting Sol's nights.

He stumbled to his sleeping pallet, collapsing onto it with a soft groan. His body still throbbed with the aftereffects of his climax, muscles aching as if he'd physically traveled the distance his consciousness had crossed, when finally he fell into the most restful sleep he has had in weeks.