stop. look. listen.

Wrong.

A Jedi shall not know anger. Nor hatred. Nor love.
There are a lot of things considered wrong by the Jedi lore.
It is often said by those who criticise the doctrine, by those who do not understand what being a Jedi means, that the codex deprives one of feelings, passions, emotions. Deprives one of life.
There are also those who frown at what they call the Jedi’s hypocrisy, at the denial of feelings when they dare to seek release and comfort in their comrades.
But they don’t suspect how difficult it is to stand between light and darkness, to fight and not give in to the heat and oblivion. They don’t realise how powerful the living Force is, no matter the side, pulling you, pushing, consuming. It’s confusing enough without emotions getting in the way.
No matter how the rumour goes, the Jedi are beings, human, twi’lek, calamarian... They do need companionship, presence, touch... they do need comfort and release.
And no matter how the rumour has it, little Jedi don’t appear from the air.
Either way, sex is nothing wrong.

Mace wandered through the spacious halls of the Jedi Temple. Since he had been transferred here from Apprentice’s Houses it seemed that between classes, there was not much to do but wander around. That’s what he thought before he wandered to the training room earlier than he was supposed to.
He remembered it vividly.
Dooku leaning against the wall, eyes closed, odd mixture of tension and calm in his expression, something Mace never seen before. Long slender fingers of a Count, burdened with the calluses of a Knight and warrior, entangled with a thin Padawan’s braid as he brought Qui-Gon’s head closer. Calm satisfaction with which the apprentice wiped his mouth, not wiping the smile off his face as he looked up at his Master.
Nothing wrong with that.

Nothing wrong, said his Master when Mace finally confessed, his nails digging into his sweaty palms, heat he never expected to exist still lingering in his body.
It was normal for warriors to help each other with these... feelings, he said, his hand resting reassuringly on Mace’s thigh. It was normal, it was right, and Mace moved swiftly to his knees because that was what a good Apprentice did, and Mace was good. Firmly on the side of light, mouth around Master’s cock, everything normal, everything right.
But he came back to the training room again and again, clinging to the column, hidden in shadows. Watching them was wrong, he knew that, and it made him come every time.

Mace glanced at the chronometr and sped up, because soon his window of opportunity would be closed and he wouldn’t be able to slide behind the column. He almost tripped over Master Yoda, who was easy to walk over even when one paid attention. The older Jedi offered him a nod in response to his apology, and then smiled slightly, as if he suspected, as if he knew...
He couldn’t. No one knew. Otherwise he would have been expelled along time ago, and not made a member of the Council at so young age.
It was rare for a Jedi to be expelled. It was even more rare for any to leave the Order. Dooku did, however. One of the Lost Thirteen.

That day was another handprint on Mace’s mind, burning and stinging whenever he thought about it, but oh, so pleasurable. The day when the smile was wiped from Qui-Gon’s mouth, the day when his eyes were closed as Dooku slid down his body, low murmur in his throat as he whispered that the circle was complete.
It had been so intimate, so private, so wrong to share with anybody else... so deliciously wrong, when Dooku placed his hands on the wall, Qui-Gon behind him, thrusting in a prefect rhythm of Master and Apprentice, complete synchronicity of partners. So wrong when Dooku looked back over his shoulder, his eyes locked with Mace’s, smile gracing his swollen lips.
So fucking wrong and so amazingly fucking hot.
Completely normal.

That’s what he said when Depa came to him, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushing and she explained in a hushed voice about what she had seen in the training room, what Master Jinn and Obi-Wan had been doing.
Mace nodded and smiled tentatively, his hand moving up her thigh, and he explained about need and want and release. She closed her eyes, all tension and calm and believed him when he said it’s alright, it’s okay, she may come. And she did, like a good Apprentice.
And she graciously kneels before him and it’s everything but right because it’s not wrong.

Depa found her right quite soon, and as a good girl she was eager to share.
Mace found out that young Aayla fucks just as she fights, with the grace of a dancer and fire of a true warrior. When he thrusts she pushes back and digs her nails into his skin and moans words he’s sure she hadn’t learned in the Temple, and it’s all for nothing because she is warm and wet and it feels perfect. But then she leans forward and puts her tongue to use, and when Depa comes her eyes link with his and the sense of wrongness washes over him, bringing sweet release.

He tried to do it the right way. Soon after the Younglings were moved to the Temple for good, because they would be safer there, as only a total fool would attack the Temple, soon after that the training room encounters stopped.
He tried to find release outside, as many did, going to the nightclubs and brothels, paying for what he wanted, just like others did.
Warm credits changed hands and a young girl with eyes dark and shining from glitterstim assumed the position. He watched her getting fucked and he heard her scream, heard her moan, and it would be perfectly wrong if she weren’t so professional about it, if she wasn’t so understanding.
He pumped his cock in synchronicity with other man’s thrusts and forced himself to come, but his minds knew it wasn’t wrong and his tongue could taste the lie when he licked his fingers.

He tried to avoid Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan when they went together to the library, he didn’t even walk near the Council’s room when Ki-Adi was there with Luminara. On some days it seemed like he and Yoda were the only ones not fucking around in this damned Temple and that was wrong on too many levels to count. And wrong in a way that didn’t appeal to him.

He tried to forget, substituted the thrusts of cock with stabs of lightsaber, moans of pleasure with screams of his opponents, shadows of training room with blinding light of his blade. The Vaapad was invented and mastered, and for some time he embraced the dance on the edge of the darkness, the delicious sense of wrong pumping through his veins.
But then the Vaapad was approved by the Council and it wasn’t wrong anymore.

He gave up when, during that Trade Federation nonsense, Qui-Gon came back with the boy, and young Skywalker was so fucking right about everything, so annoying in his innocence that Mace couldn’t help but distrust him.
The training room was off-limits at this time, but when a Jedi need information there is nothing standing in his way. He found what he was looking for in Queen Amidala’s quarters and stood frozen in a spot in the doorway as he saw one of the handmaidens, Padme, or something, spread the Queen’s legs in a smooth move of one used to power. Her tongue flicked faster as the Queen moaned obscenities, her voice low and rough suddenly, not the voice of an aristocrat. As she came down from her orgasm, shaking, Padme looked up and noticed him, and the heat of being caught went straight to his cock, but she only smiled as if she knew the secret.

Skywalker is sixteen when Mace sees him running through the halls towards Kenobi’s headquarters, flushed cheeks and darkened eyes. He follows him quietly and opens the door slightly just to see Obi-Wan’s hand on Anakin’s thigh, moving up in a motion that is both soothing and exciting. He sees the words ‘nothing wrong’ forming on Kenobi’s lips, even if he can’t hear them. Nothing and everything.
And he thinks he hears tentative ‘Yes, Master’ as Anakin bends his knees for the first time and reaches to Kenobi’s robes.

There aren’t many things that Mace doesn’t know about his collegues. He knows their secrets, desires and kinks. He knows that Adi and Stass are more than cousins, knows and finds slightly disturbing, but highly amusing, that Piell fucks Jokasta over the desks in library and that Shaak Ti’s bond with her lightsaber is something else.
But there are things everyone knows, the secrets lying there in the open, like Skywalker’s marriage to Senator Amidala.
What everyone doesn’t know, though, is that after the Senator comes on her husband’s cock she doesn’t even shower before taking the elevator three levels down and deep throating Obi-Wan.
They don’t know that after Anakin wakes up by Padme’s side he goes to Kenobi and gets on all fours, because there are things your wife can’t do, but your Master always can.
They don’t know, but Mace does, because Mace was in the wrong place in the wrong time. Sometimes waiting hours for the wrong time to occur.

He watched everyone, as always, but lately his mind was mostly on young Skywalker. There was something in his expression, haunted, dark, eyes still wide open with remembered innocence, the expression of a naughty boy caught doing something he thought wrong.
Of all people, Mace knew everything about wrong.

And there he was. Standing over the man he once thought was right. About to plunge the purple light inside the darkness, about to thrust, stab, embrace the wrong that became right. It was once impossible to think that a Jedi could attack the Chancellor, now it was the right thing to do.
He could feel the palpable tension in Skywalker and wondered if he was ever calm. Anakin moved forward and in the flash Mace not only watched, Mace saw.
The desire of right.
Funny, really. The need to do right would bring Skywalker into the darkness, the shadows of wrong kept Mace on the side of light.
“Nothing wrong about that,” he heard himself saying, his tongue tasting lies.
Skywalker looked up, confused, slow calm dawning.
“Padme. Obi-Wan...” Mace continued. „Nothing wrong,” he repeated.
Anakin nodded, finally, raising his sword and plunging and for once, as the dark lightning danced over the blade Mace felt the pleasure of doing something right.
Skywalker looked at his hands, confused and dazed and Mace could only do one thing that always was right. He guided Anakin to his knees, eyes dark and shining and the young Jedi asumed the familiar position.
He brought his cock to Skywalker’s mouth and the confusion was slowly wiped off, smile appearing.

He walked into the training room, barely enough time to slid behind the column. Moment later the second doors opened and Anakin was the first inside, wide smile on his face. He twirled Padme around and she laughed loud as the last spin left her facing the wall and Anakin was raising her heavy dress. Obi-Wan shook his head in amusement, closing the doors and leaning against them. Padme laughed again, low sound that ended with a moan, and asked something about always watching and giving pointers. Before she got to the end of her sentence there were Obi-Wan’s lips on hers and Anakin’s hand between her legs.
Watching them didn’t seem wrong, but Mace didn’t care about that anymore. Watching them was fucking hot and the galaxy seemed a better place. So, he watched.

“Saw something, I did.”
He spun around to see Yoda right behind him, chewing on that dreadful little cane of his, eyes twinkling in a way that seemed to prove the theory of what exactly was in that cane.
“Vision, I had,” the Jedi Master added, watching him closely. “Wrong, you did,” he waited a beat, then smiled widely. “But right you made.”
Mace didn’t want to wonder what Yoda meant. Probably again the old nonsense about many paths of the force, many courses of action...
But he didn’t think anything different could happen.
It was so deliciously wrong and dysfunctional that it was exactly right.