A Knife In the Dark - during KotOR, 2 DSF Exile and "Scary" Atton. oneshot.

Disclaimer: All characters, etc. from the game Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords belong to Obsidian Ent. and LucasArts.

A/N: like all my stories, please don't go into this expecting it to be canon. Also, I need to add a warning here for blood, violence, character death, and sexual content. Also, one use of the f-bomb. I haven't written any smut for a while, so... I feel like writing some now. It's not terribly descriptive: I didn't make it as a bad as I could have, but it's there. :D

Atton stood in a dark corner, peering out into the dim light of the ship's cold interior. He was in a wonderful little bend in one of the Ebon Hawk's corridors, shrouded in shadows. It was the perfect place to wait.

The filthy animal would be stalking this area at any moment. And when he did, Atton had a surprise for him. A nice, sharp, shiny surprise.

Hanharr would be the first. The first of Reign's companions that he would get rid of. He'd pondered a bit about his selection. Perhaps it would have been better to take care of the Zabrak, first. She seemed rather attached to him, in a very sentimental way. With him taken care of, disposing of the rest of the crew would be that much easier.

Soon. Soon he'd take care of Bao-Dur. Then the Miraluka, the Mandalorian, and the old woman. He'd save the whimpering Jedi kath pup for last. That one would be an orgy of blood and pain. He'd make it a masterpiece of a finale.

But this thing, this filthy stinking Wookiee scum, was just polluting the air they breathed. He was useless. Weak. Practically begging to die. Reign didn't want the thing on board, anyway. She'd told Atton that she merely tolerated its presence because Kreia had promised that the animal held a lesson of "inner strength", or some-such nonsense. But Atton couldn't have cared less. And it seemed like a good place to start.

He heard Hanharr's heavy tread and gripped his knife. He could smell him coming. Hanharr reeked of death; like unwashed fur and rotting flesh. Atton thought of what he'd heard about Wookiee torture, and how the very first thing you needed to do was to shave them. He didn't want to give him an honorable death, but he didn't exactly have time to play, either. So a knife in the dark would do.

Hanharr stomped past, and Atton lunged. He shoved the large animal, causing him to spin about. Quickly, before Hanharr even knew what was happening, he gripped his furry arm, and slid his knife into the Wookiee's soft belly. He twisted it, good and deep, feeling blood spurt, covering his hand. Hanharr's eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth, probably with the intention of letting loose some of that racket that Wookiees make, but Atton pulled the knife sharply to his right, opening a giant tear in Hanarr's abdomen, and spraying blood all over the corridor walls. The large animal's mouth let loose only a gasp now, as his intestines and stomach muscle spilled out onto the deck.

The animal groaned and dropped to his knees, then fell over and was still. Atton looked down on him and felt all the power and excitement that he knew he would. Killing somebody was one thing. But when you knew them...

The sensation was like nothing else. The knowledge that you'd made such an impact on another being was an intimate thing. It was as close as you could ever get to them. Closer than being friends for years. Closer than sex. Atton absently rubbed the knife clean across his chest, smearing the mess on his jacket. He watched the red pool of Hanharr's lifeblood spread and grow, feeling euphoric. This is what made killing so necessary. Not just the excitement of planning, or the rush you felt while you did the deed. It was the sense of well-being you felt afterwards.

He tucked the knife back into his boot, then stood up to wait. Reign would be along soon. She'd know what he'd done, and he couldn't wait to see her reaction.

It was only a matter of seconds before he heard her soft footsteps.

She came around the corner and stopped, seeing the mess he'd made of Hanharr on the floor. "Atton, what..."

She didn't get to finish. He came to her in a rush, and pulled her back into the shadowed corner. He used his body to trap her against the cold metal wall, and his bloodied hands come up to cover her mouth. He smeared her lips with it, wanting her to taste. As soon as he'd painted them red, he leaned in and licked her, sliding his tongue over her lips, sipping from her. Making sure he got a good taste, too.

It was important to do this. Lets you know exactly what your enemies are made of. It had a tangy, copper flavor, and tasting it on Reign made him feel out of control.

He lapped at her mouth until it was clean, then left her lips, running his tongue down her chin until he reached her neck. As he bit at the tendons he found there, he started yanking at Reign's black robes, needing it, needing to be part of her, now, to hell with the fact that they were only a few short paces from the rest of the ship's crew.

"Why didn't you take him down with your 'saber? Would have been less messy...." Reign said raggedly as he pulled the robes off her shoulders, leaving her upper body bare. He pushed a knee between her legs, lifting her up from the floor, and ripped at the fabric of her leggings. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and as he reached bare flesh, he could feel how ready she was. He didn't wait, just shoved his pants down over his hips, and pushed into her, slamming her back up against the wall.

He gripped the pale skin of her throat in his teeth, grinding into her, pounding her body with a frantic rhythm. She started making those sexy noises that she made whenever they were together, noises she didn't even now she made, so he reached up with his right had and covered her mouth, muffling her cries.

He felt it build and build inside himself, the excitement, the blood lust, and the pleasure, until it burst, making him cling to Rayne, pushing harder into her a few more times.

His head cleared, and he removed his hand from Rayne's mouth, replacing it with his lips. He kissed her deeply. She was all that mattered. All he cared about in his entire fucked-up life.

They were two of a kind. And as soon as he was able to get rid of the rest of the crew, he'd truly be free to show her. He'd have her all to himself.

He couldn't wait.


A/N: I feel as if I should point out that I worded certain parts of this, mainly Atton's thoughts, a bit strangely to help shape the story. Obviously, in a true narrative, I would not have worded "letting loose some of that racket that Wookiees make" in such a way, but I was trying to convey Atton's contempt. So... yeah.