Work Text:
The Republic has fallen, and the Taung reign once more on Coruscant.
Ulic makes his way past familiar bodies in armor, flush with victory but still alert and wary. They incline their heads, salute, don’t stop him, and after so many years spent watching every step among the Jedi, and then with Exar, the easy acceptance is a vivid thing.
There was unrest among the soldiers once, unease that their Mand'alor had fallen to a Sith, uncertainty over whether they should follow someone who surrendered, who chose to follow. Ulic had seen it, though, had caught the whispers, and even if Mand'alor the Indomitable would never deign to broach such a thing with the man he’d sworn himself to, Ulic had felt the danger Indomitable was in, had seen the coming fracture, had made a choice.
Exar was a poor leader, cruel and self-obsessed. Indomitable’s greatest flaw is his certainty in himself and his own skills, and as someone who has always lacked that entirely, Ulic admires it. Craves it, takes in what he can like a moon taking a star’s light, and—
Easy, then, knowing the undercurrents, to turn on Exar, to swear himself to Indomitable instead. A few pretty, bold words about the treachery of the Sith, about seeing the truth in the Crusades and the Mandalorian ways, and the universe had realigned itself with Indomitable at the center. No threat of treachery, no chance of rebellion in the ranks after Ulic made his oath. No threat from Exar, dead on Ulic's blade, or from the Jedi, fled to their temples in the Unknown Regions and to safety there.
The Republic is now the Mandalorian Empire, and Mand'alor the Indomitable reigns.
The doors of what was once the Chancellor’s residence stand closed, guarded by a full squad of Mandalorians and a pair of basilisk droids. They see Ulic as he emerges from the covered walkway and immediately move to open the way, though, salute, and Ulic bows his head in return, mounts the steps with his heartbeat quick in his chest and something like joy rising, balm against the fury that swallowed him whole after Aleema’s torture. Not a Sith's emotion, maybe, but—
Ulic is Mandalorian now, not Sith. His oath was taken by the Mand'alor personally, given freely, and Indomitable named him an Imperial Knight, something not Jedi and not Sith but entirely new, loyal to the Mand'alor’s seat and nothing else. Ulic can take apprentices, can build his own Order, can serve the Mand'alor for the rest of his days, and right now, he wants nothing more.
The residence has been stripped of its rich finery, redone in simple lines and with plain stone. More like Keldabe, Indomitable had said, pleased with it, and Ulic admires it as well. It feels more like Alderaan, where he was born, and while he has few happy memories of the families there, his own included, he’d loved the Alderaanian style of building with nature rather than against it. The Taung have much the same philosophy when it comes to buildings that aren't meant to be fortresses, and here on Coruscant, newly made theirs again after thousands of years, there's no need for such heavy defenses.
Not when the Imperial Knights guard the Mand'alor, and no one in the galaxy will be able to slip past Ulic and harm the emperor.
Up the low, wide steps, across an arching bridge, and Ulic emerges in a courtyard covered over with glass, lush and tropical, with a wide pool in the center. Around it, up another set of stairs, there's a long hall, once an art gallery and now a throne room, with a heavy stone seat at the far end. Sprawled on it, helmet and Mask set beside him, long hair sliding loose from its tail and tendrils curling absently, Mand'alor the Indomitable is considering a pad, frowning.
“More targets for the Crusade?” Ulic asks, pitched to carry, and he hasn’t been minding his steps, but Indomitable still startles, raises his head with exasperated amusement crossing his face.
“Designing the uniform for the Knights,” he says, cocking his head. “I’m adding bells to every piece of it.”
Ulic laughs, and that joy is rising again, the thrill of knowing, of being part of the joke rather than the butt of it like a star in his chest. Indomitable reaches out for him, and Ulic takes his hand without hesitation, but doesn’t settle in his lap the way Indomitable clearly intends. He sinks to his knees between Indomitable’s feet instead, resting his head against Indomitable’s thigh, and feels the slow, rasping breath Indomitable takes as much as he hears it.
“My commanders have no plans to enter until this evening,” Indomitable says after several long seconds, and a gauntleted hand brushes over Ulic's hair, teasing the loose chestnut curls out, winding them around his fingers in an absent gesture that makes Ulic's heart turn over in his chest. “There’s no need for this display right now.”
He enjoys having Ulic sit at his feet, though. After Ulic's oath, Indomitable had settled him beside his throne, let Ulic lean against his knees as he planned their assault on the Krath, with every single one of his top commanders watching. A show of Ulic's loyalty, just as much as when Indomitable put Ulic on his lap before a full feasting hall, made him moan and squirm with every eye on them. But—
It's a show Ulic would put on willingly, a thousand times over, just to please Indomitable. Just to prove his own devotion.
“But I enjoy it,” he says, soft, and slides his hands up Indomitable’s heavy thighs, leans in. Indomitable’s soft breath is all pleasure on the exhale, and he cups the back of Ulic's head, guides him in as he presses a kiss to Indomitable’s fauld. “I would spend all my days at your feet if there was no other use for me.”
Indomitable strokes his hair back, dragging his thumb over the plane of Ulic's cheek as he watches with dark eyes. “And when all the wars are won, I’ll keep you at my feet,” he rumbles. “A loyal hound to serve my will, and the loveliest decoration for a cold throne.”
Ulic shivers, swallows at the thought. “Your every whim,” he promises, and drags his hands back to Indomitable’s knees, glancing up. Indomitable is still watching him, and the weight of his gaze makes Ulic's belly knot with heat and want. “Your day has been long, Mand'alor, and we have a while until your evening meeting. Will you allow me?”
Pleasure flickers, coupled with the slow rise of relief after too many hours working, and Indomitable grunts, pushes forward. He leans in, stealing a slow, lingering kiss before he rises to his feet, and tells Ulic, an order, “Come. I’ll bathe. Serve me, my Knight.”
The heat is a nova in Ulic's lungs, and he rises after Indomitable, follows his steps out of the throne room. There's a narrow passage back to the rear of the residence, locked with a handprint scanner, and beyond it a soldier’s neat and sparse room. The only sign that the Mand'alor himself sleeps here is the special stand for the Mask, a rack on the wall for Indomitable’s great mythosaur axe, and the bed that’s sized for two bodies rather than one.
As Indomitable comes to a halt, Ulic moves. He takes the axe that’s slung across Indomitable’s back, unstraps it, sets it on its hooks. When he turns back, Indomitable is watching him again, and he offers his helmet in both hands.
A sign of trust, a gesture Indomitable would never offer to even the closest of his advisors or soldiers, but—both of them already know that Ulic has no care for power. Just for Indomitable himself. Once already Ulic gave up leadership of the Crusaders, and now, with so much more gained with that power surrendered, there's nothing in the wide galaxy that could make him turn on this man.
Ulic takes the helm, leans in. Over the ancient Mask, carved from mythosaur bone and carried by every Mand'alor since the First, he kisses Indomitable softly, slowly, gently, and Indomitable’s sigh is an easing, a settling. Too much tension, Ulic thinks. Too many cares, leading this force that’s conquered the Republic and seeks to take the rest of the galaxy as well. But just for a while, in here, between Mand'alor and Knight, he can let those burdens go. Ulic can give him space to let those worries go.
He sets the Mask on its stand, turns back. After so many months of watching armor be donned and removed, he’s familiar with the process, moves without hesitation to gently draw Indomitable’s gauntlets off, one and then the other. Indomitable flexes his fingers, grimacing at the stiffness of a lingering injury earned in his battle with Satal, and Ulic takes those big hands between his own, slides his thumbs across the tight muscle. Indomitable’s fingers spasm, but Ulic doesn’t stop, strokes and rubs until Indomitable’s hands relax, his talons partially retracting.
“I heard,” Ulic says quietly, “that Aleema tried to escape again.”
Indomitable huffs, turning a wrist so that Ulic can carefully unlatch his vambrace, ease it off over his relaxed talons. “Once we have what we need from Empress Teta, I will execute her personally,” he says, displeased. “I'm close to deciding the witch is more trouble than she’s worth.”
It’s amusing to look back, now, on the certainty that Ulic had once carried, thinking Indomitable absolutely captivated by Aleema, devoted to a strong woman and powerful Sith. The knowledge that Indomitable had been looking at him, not the sorceress, had turned Ulic's entire world on its head, had been one of the things that made him pay more mind to the Mandalorians and their internal strife, and he can't help but smile at the memory, at the sudden surge of realization. Wanted in his own right, not because of family connections to one of Alderaan’s Jedi, not because of his relation to Cay and his friendship with Tott, not because of his strength as a Jedi, wanted outright—that look in Indomitable’s eyes had hooked itself behind his ribcage, made a home inside his chest, and Ulic had turned on Exar because of it.
“The Keto family will want her returned to them, and the surrender of their planet in exchange will give you the entire Deep Core,” Ulic says, and carefully sets both vambraces aside, moves up. Indomitable’s armor is heavy, even for a full-blooded Taung, and the chestplate is almost enough to make Ulic stagger as he removes it, but the breath Indomitable takes with it set aside is worth the strain. He rolls his shoulders, and Ulic steps behind him, unbuckling the pauldrons, removing Indomitable’s long, heavy golden cloak and tossing it over the stand with the rest of the pieces of heavy beskar.
When he steps around to the front again, though, reaches for another strap, one of Indomitable’s hands catches his wrist, pulls him close. Long fingers cup his cheek, slide back into his hair, and Indomitable leans in, presses their foreheads together. The long tendrils hidden in his thick hair wrap themselves around Ulic's biceps, his throat, his arms, and Ulic can't help his breath, a little shaky, as Indomitable meets his gaze across the bare centimeters between their faces, stroking Ulic's cheek and hair.
“I want that witch dead for the way she tortured you,” Indomitable says, low, and his taloned fingers catch Ulic's jaw so very, very gently that it aches somewhere deep in Ulic's chest, tipping his face up with a careful but immovable grip. “And for the way she broke you, then forced you to her bed while you were lost to the drugs she used. If having my revenge means I have to take the Deep Core one planet at a time, I will start that crusade without hesitation.”
Ulic shivers, helpless, leans in across the gap. He kisses Indomitable again, and—there's no way he ever could have turned against this kindness, this possession, this care. The first time Indomitable touched him softly, he was lost, and they're both aware of it. Indomitable has already gotten everything he ever could have wanted from Ulic, from his loyalty to his lightsaber to his body, and he knows that Ulic is his in every way that matters. But even so, he keeps caring, keeps pulling Ulic in tighter and tighter.
Ulic would burn the galaxy down for this one man, and it’s the furthest thing from a Jedi's care for all life as it’s possible to get, entirely different from a Sith's covetous possession, but—Ulic long ago stopped letting such things concern him.
With a breath, he breaks the press of their mouths, slides down to his knees right between Indomitable’s boots. Carefully, as lightly as he can, he lays a kiss against the buckle of Indomitable’s kama, lingering, and the way Indomitable curls a hand in his hair, catching a deliberate breath, makes him smile. He undoes the heavy leather, unstrapping it from the rest of Indomitable’s armor, then setting it aside, and when he reaches for the heavy greaves, Indomitable strokes his hair back from his eyes, gaze fixed on Ulic's face.
“My Knight on his knees for me yet again,” he says, a rumble that Ulic can feel in his bones. “I find myself too tense to enjoy a bath right now, Ulic. Perhaps you can fix that.”
It shivers through Ulic, the intent in those words, the expectation. A way to serve, and without hesitation he unbuckles Indomitable’s greaves, his cuisses, the tasset and fauld. Indomitable reaches up, clearly intending to undo the buckles of his kute, but Ulic catches his hands before he can, rises and reaches up to undo them himself, carefully working his way down the line of them where they march down Indomitable’s broad chest.
“I must have been shirking my duties, to leave you with such a strain,” he says, and Indomitable huffs a soft breath, curling a hand around the back of Ulic's neck, the tips of his talons resting ever so lightly against the knobs of Ulic’s spine. Ulic has seen him rend flesh with those claws, tear off limbs, break bone when he was left without any other weapon on the battlefield, but right now they don’t even dent skin.
“But turning to another would have not served me half so well as waiting for my Knight,” he says, low, stroking his talons down Ulic's nape. “You serve me well, Ulic. This old soldier is spoiled by his Knight.”
Ulic laughs, leaning in to kiss the heavily-muscled chest bared as he pushes the kute back, lets it slide down. The heavy fabric falls to pool around Indomitable’s waist, and Ulic slides down with it, freeing the last few pieces of armor, then unbuckling Indomitable’s boots so he can step out of them. When Indomitable is bare, all his armor off, his heavy kute folded and set aside, Ulic dips down the last few inches, right to the floor, and lays a light kiss on the top of each of Indomitable’s clawed feet.
“Not old yet,” Ulic says, and looks up. Smiles when Indomitable cups his cheek, leans into the touch and closes his eyes, enjoying the stroke of a thumb across his cheek. “But—soon enough. I’ll see to it, Mand'alor.”
Crusaders die young, far too often. Mand'alore even more so, fallen in battle, fallen to treachery, fallen to challengers in single combat. But Indomitable won't share that fate. Ulic will make sure to the last breath in his body that Indomitable’s reign is long and storied, glorious in all the ways a Mandalorian could want, but never deadly. Not unless Ulic is dead well before him.
Indomitable smiles, clearly catching the meaning in Ulic's words, and steps back. He throws himself down on the bed, leaning back against the wall, with one foot braced flat on the floor and his other leg drawn up in a lazy half-sprawl. Between his legs, his cock has entirely emerged from its sheath, glistening and slick, dark red and fully stiff. He beckons Ulic closer with a curl of his fingers, and Ulic crawls to him without hesitation, doesn’t climb up onto the mattress but settles against Indomitable’s lowered leg, stroking his thigh. Indomitable doesn’t bother to give him an order, just lounges there like the king he is, dark eyes trained on Ulic and sharp, intent as he tips his head back against the stone. Expectant, waiting, because he knows Ulic will serve, even without being told to.
Ulic had defeated this man, once, had made Indomitable kneel and swear to follow, but with Exar gone, with the Krath broken, with the Republic fallen, all Ulic wants is this. This moment, this place, Mand'alor the Indomitable as his lord, the weight of expectant eyes on him with the full awareness of what the commander of this new empire is owed.
With a quiet hum, Ulic opens his eyes, slides in closer. He leans up, dragging his hair across Indomitable’s thighs, pressing a lingering kiss to the edge of his sheath, slick and soft. He slides his tongue in, hears Indomitable’s soft, pleased breath, and feels it resonate through him, a wash of heat at making the right choice, at satisfying. Gently, careful of nerves that aren't meant for too much stimulation before it becomes painful, he laps and sucks at the edges of leaking slickness, presses his tongue deeper, moans softly as more slickness trickles out with Indomitable’s groan. Those thick thighs part further, and a clawed hand curls in his hair, stroking, gripping even though Indomitable doesn’t bother to guide, just lets Ulic service him, lapping at his leaking wetness, suckling at the sensitive edges of his sheath.
There's no rushing here, no need to move on immediately, even though Ulic can feel Indomitable’s cock throbbing and twitching against his cheek. He knows what Indomitable enjoys, what to give him that will truly help him relax. Slow is best, a careful and steady build, as drawn out as Ulic can stand to make it. While Indomitable has never minded a quick and dirty fuck, a brief, rough coupling up against a wall or tucked back in a ship’s deserted corridor when there are only a few moments to spare, this is what he truly enjoys, what satisfies.
It's only when Indomitable’s cock is fully dripping with its natural lubrication, sweet and thick on Ulic's tongue, and his sheath is seeping it in a steady flow that Ulic pulls up, drags his fingers through the wetness, then turns his head. He nuzzles against the hardness of that long cock, nearly twice as thick as a Human’s, with a broad, bulbous head that takes up the last quarter of his shaft, all of it dripping with precum. Fascinating, still, even after all their times together, and Ulic laps at it, slides his mouth over the rounded point of the tip and rolls it over his tongue as best he can. The amount Indomitable leaks is copious, but Ulic has the trick of swallowing at this point, presses on. He pushes forward as far as he can, opening his throat, dizzy with the heady musk of Indomitable’s scent, with the smell of sex settling around them, and the ring of Indomitable’s low, satisfied moan vibrates through his very bones.
He can't take all of Indomitable’s cock. Maybe with more practice, or from a different angle, but—for now he takes as much as he can fit down his throat, eyes watering, resisting the urge to choke as he settles, then swallows.
With a low groan, Indomitable tips his head back, tendrils curling and twitching, talons pulling at the blankets. The muscles in his legs are tense, tight, like he’s holding himself back from simply fucking up into Ulic's mouth, and Ulic strokes his thighs, kneading the heavy muscle, dragging his fingertips up and down as he swallows around that huge cock, letting the muscles of his throat milk the shaft.
“You have a sweet mouth, Ulic,” Indomitable says on a breath, and lets his eyes close. Doesn’t move, but just sits there, enjoying the tightness of Ulic's throat, the heat of his mouth. Ulic can feel his pleasure, a slow-rising tide that laps at his senses, gradually building. Deliberately, he swallows again, draws back, sucks at the broad, slick head, then sinks down, trying to go just a little further this time. Swallows, once, twice, a third time, and draws back, stroking what he can't take with his hand, then drawing his fist up in a slow, tight stroke as he mouths at the glans, at the slightly firmer overlapping scales that form the head. They flutter slightly at the attention, seeping more cum, and Indomitable’s hips rock, involuntary.
“You always taste so good that it’s no wonder my mouth is sweet,” Ulic says, and takes the head down his throat again, moaning deliberately as he does. Indomitable gasps at the vibration, fingers finding Ulic's hair again and knotting there, though he doesn’t yank. Ulic hums in thanks, rides the faint twitch of Indomitable’s hips, and slips his fingertips into the heat of Indomitable’s sheath. Just slightly, just enough to make Indomitable’s groan rumble through the room, but he keeps them there, stroking lightly, tracing hot flesh and sensitive nerves.
“Wicked Knight,” Indomitable says on a heavy, pleased breath, pressing Ulic's head down, and Ulic swallows his cock again, lets it press his throat wide and then just stays there, swallowing, suckling, trying to breathe around the massive stretch of that shaft. Under his hand, Indomitable’s muscles slowly ease from their tight clench, and he moans, sinks back against the wall again with his eyes closed, just feeling. Just enjoying, and even more semen spills into Ulic's throat as Indomitable sighs, loosens his grip, strokes Ulic's hair almost absently.
It's only when the urge to choke is becoming overwhelming that Ulic slowly lets Indomitable’s cock slide free, ducks his head to cough as he wipes his slick lips, his dripping-wet chin. The fingers petting his hair pause, concerned, but as soon as he can breathe normally again Ulic turns back, slides closer. He switches to his hands, stroking Indomitable’s cock with a light grip, squeezing, dragging his fingers up and down the shaft. It makes Indomitable huff, slowly rocking his hips into the touch, and the expression on his face is all lazy pleasure.
“You may be the one who needs a bath after this,” he observes languidly, brushing a thumb over Ulic's sore, swollen lips.
Ulic chuckles, nipping at the pad of his thumb, the dangerous curve of that half-retracted talon. “All the more reason to wear something revealing to dinner, if you ruin my clothes now,” he says. “I can sit on the arm of your throne and feed you each bite with my own hands.”
Indomitable’s rumble is eager, and he brushes Ulic's hair behind his ear, guides his head back down. “We still have hours until that time,” he says, cupping the back of Ulic's neck for a moment, then reaching down. His hand finds the hard bulge of Ulic's cock, still trapped in his tights, and squeezes deliberately, and when Ulic whimpers, his smirk deepens. “Come here, Ulic. As much as I enjoy your mouth, there are other things I want as well.”
Not a rough, hard fucking. Not when he’s in this mood, Ulic knows. He’s going to put Ulic on his cock, get all the way inside him, and then make Ulic just sit there, getting wetter and slicker as Indomitable leaks inside him, stretched so wide for so long that walking tomorrow will be almost impossible. Clenching and squirming and moaning, shaken apart by his own need, and every single time they’ve done this, Ulic has ended up coming again and again, just pinned there on Indomitable’s cock as Indomitable enjoys the fluttering, squeezing heat of Ulic's body, his whimpers and cries as the heat builds and builds until it boils over.
He swallows, eagerness shivering through him, and takes Indomitable’s hands, lets himself be drawn up onto Indomitable’s lap. When Indomitable presses a soft kiss to his sore mouth, Ulic returns it with every bit of adoration he feels for this man, clutching at dark hair, stroking sleek tendrils, letting Indomitable taste his own slickness on Ulic's tongue.
“Anything to serve you, Mand'alor,” he breathes, and Indomitable rumbles, heady, pleased, and kisses him again.