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The holiday was initially an Alderaanian one, but over the years, first the Alliance, and now the New Republic, have come to take it as one of their own. Every year it becomes not just an excuse for increasingly lavish parties, but also a chance to pause, to remember what has been lost as well as won.
The early part of the day was for remembering. Tonight, though, is about the celebration. The massive hall in the main Senate building has been turned into a ballroom for the night. Everyone wears light colors, the crowd mingling in shades of white and cream and ecru, each guest more elaborately dressed than the one before. You’ve chosen to take your cues from the Princess herself, and your gown is simply cut, shimmering white with a long skirt just full enough that it will flare a little when you dance.
And oh, you plan to dance. It remains to be seen if you’ll be able to drag Luke onto the dance floor with you—he’s surprisingly reticent about some things—but if not, you know that he’ll be happy to watch you, knowing that no matter who your partners are, he’s the one you’re going to go home with.
Where he’s going to get a surprise, one that you can barely keep from grinning about.
“What are you smiling at?” Luke asks, sneaking up beside you and handing you a glass of something sweet-smelling.
“Just happy.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Good. Come on, I promised Leia we’d say hello.”
This is practically the only night of the year he’ll wear anything other than serviceable black or flight-suit orange; it’s only in deference to his sister’s culture that he’s wearing white as well, a sharply-cut waist-length jacket over a simple linen shirt and Corellian-cut pants. As he leads you through the crowd, you’re not above hanging back enough to enjoy the view. May all the powers in the universe smile on the Corellians and their love of snug-fitting pants—because honestly.
Leia still scares the wits out of you; you’re starting to wonder if she always will. It’s not that she’s unpleasant to you, in fact she’s quite friendly, but she’s intimidating nonetheless. You’ve barely managed to exchange greetings and compliments on each other’s dresses when the band starts playing.
You turn to Luke, giving him a hopeful smile. Before he can say no, Leia intervenes. “Go on, Luke. You don’t bring a pretty girl to a party and then not dance with her.”
Luke opens his mouth, closes it, gives you a resigned grin. “You know I’m terrible at this,” he says, taking your hand in his and leading you onto the dance floor.
“I know no such thing.”
Okay so maybe he’s not the best dancer you’ve ever danced with, but his hand is warm and firm in the small of your back, and he’s close enough that his breath is soft against your cheek. What does it matter if the count is slightly off-beat? As you circle together, his hand trails around your back, once or twice dipping almost scandalously low, as he laughs at your expression.
Then he realizes it, and his expression changes. The hand on your back dips lower again, his fingertips searching for… something he’s not going to find. Then back up your back, sliding up between your shoulderblades, his eyes growing wider by the moment.
You try to fight the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Is something wrong?” you ask innocently.
“Are you—?”
You lift your eyebrows, watching the struggle in his lovely eyes. But you’re not going to bail him out, you’re going to make him say it.
Luke pulls you close in the dance and murmurs in your ear. “You’re not wearing anything under that dress, are you.”
“Not a stitch.” You hadn’t counted on him finding out this early, in fact, you thought he wouldn’t find out until you were both safely back in his quarters. But this just might be better.
There’s the faintest edge of a whimper on his intake of breath. “Unfair.”
You laugh and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek. “You weren’t supposed to find out this soon. It’s your fault for getting so bold.”
“Still.” Luke presses his cheek against yours and groans softly. “Blast, it’ll be hours before we can get away.”
The music winds down and you step away from him, unable to hide your smile. “Hours and hours,” you agree, and this evening just got even more fun than you expected.
He dances with you more that night than he has in the past, unable to keep his hands away from your waist and back, fingertips tracing where your undergarments would normally be. Every time he looks at you his blue eyes burn into you, and more than once as you dance you feel the brush of him against your thighs, half-erect.
Even when you do dance with other partners, you can feel him watching you. It’s intoxicating, being the focus of all his attention like this, knowing that with each passing moment he wants you more and more, that it’s driving him to distraction. It’s enough to start distracting you. Every time you meet his eyes a small shiver of excitement trickles down your spine and curls in your belly, in your thighs.
Halfway through the celebration, the speeches start. Not many, and not long, but inevitably some of the generals feel they have words that need saying, and the audience is just tipsy or dance-drunk enough to listen amiably. You and Luke are standing hand in hand on the edge of the crowd when he tugs at your hand.
When you look at him, he puts his finger to his lips and pulls you with him.
“Luke, you’re being obvious,” you hiss, as he pulls you through a doorway.
“I don’t care.”
The door leads to a narrow hallway, empty except for the two of you. Before you can say anything further, Luke presses you up against the marble wall with his body, pinning you there before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard and deep, his tongue sneaking into your mouth while his fingers curl into your scalp.
It’s the sort of kiss that sears away good sense and conscious thought, and when one of his hands drops to your shoulder and slides down to cup your breast, all you can do is shiver at the weight of his palm, the teasing pinch of his fingers over your nipple.
Luke’s mouth leaves yours and you try to pull your thoughts back together. “Someone could come out here—”
“They won’t.” His lips are hot against your neck, finding your pulse point and giving it a teasing bite. “Anyone who tries that door is going to think it’s locked.”
You tilt your head back and whimper softly, his tongue trailing down your neck as his hands glide to your hips, resting there as he licks and nips at you. His mouth is so hot and so sweet, it distracts you from what his hands are doing, until you feel the first hint of a breeze against your calves. You gasp, realizing too late that his hands on your hips have been gathering up your skirt, slowly pulling it higher and higher.
“Luke!” Before you can protest further, one of his hands slips beneath the full fall of white shimmersilk, his fingertips trailing the outside edge of your thigh.
“Please?” His smile is as wicked as you’ve ever seen it. It steals your breath and the last of your resolve.
“Yes,” escapes you before you have a chance to think the better of it. You’re outside of an enormous ballroom, hundreds of people just on the other side of that door, and Luke Skywalker’s hand is up under your skirt, his fingers slowly parting your thighs.
His touch is gentle, feather-light at first, just stroking over the shape of your labia before he leans in to kiss you. It’s so easy, so tempting to let your thighs relax and fall apart, to give him more access to your body. You hang on to his shoulders with hands starting to tremble.
Luke is drawn to your neck again, exposed as it is by your hairstyle for the evening, but he pauses near your ear and whispers, “Your thighs are damp. Are you already wet?” Before you can answer, the tip of his finger slips between your lips so he can find out for himself. He draws in a quiet breath. “Oh. You are.”
Your cheeks flush and you arch against his hand. The tingling ache that’s been slowly growing all evening flares hot as his fingers find your clit. Dimly you’re aware that the speeches are still going on in the ballroom, but for how long? How long before someone notices you’re both gone?
Luke is teasing you, nothing more, his fingers keeping you just on the burning edge of arousal while he whispers your name against your neck.
“It’s not fair, is it?” He nips at your earlobe. “What if I left you like this, the way you’ve left me all night?” As if to prove to true to his word, he draws his fingers away, leaving you throbbing for more.
“No, please,” you whimper.
“I should.” You’ve unleashed something in him, a wicked side you only suspected was there before now. “I should make you wait.”
You bury your burning face against his shoulder, shuddering and whining softly.
When he finally speaks, his voice is a low growl you almost don’t recognize. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall.”
As you start to turn, he helps you, pressing against your back as his hands cover yours against the wall. His teeth find the back of your neck and you have a moment to wonder just what you’ve set free. He pushes your hands lower, easing you into a more bent over position, and the dirtiness of it is breathtaking, the implication clear and shooting through you. That’s before you feel him step back, feel him flipping up the back of your skirt, exposing you.
It’s one thing if someone came out and saw you kissing, even groping, but this…
You hear the unmistakable sound of Luke unfastening his pants.
His hands go to your hips, and hot hard length of his cock slips between your thighs, still teasing you, the head brushing wetly over your lips. All it would take is just a slight shift in angle, a slight increase in pressure, and he’d be yours. Or maybe, given the situation, you’d be his.
But he doesn’t do anything but hold you in place, slowly starting to thrust, slipping between your lips, but not entering you. The head of his cock nudges your clit, each sliding touch sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine. If he would just let you tilt your hips a little more… but no. He holds you firm, for the first time seeming to delight in taking just a little bit more pleasure than he’s giving. Or maybe it’s that he knows that the torment he’s inflicting is pure heaven, pushing your arousal to a place it’s never been.
Oh hell, the sounds he’s making. Does he even know that he is? Each thrust draws a soft grunt from him, like it’s taking a gargantuan effort for him to restrain himself.
“Luke, please. Please don’t leave me like this.” He’s not the only one who doesn’t sound like himself.
He laughs at you, low and delighted. “I don’t know. The speeches are almost done. We should get back.”
Desperation claws at your chest. You’ll go mad if he stops now, if you have to go through the rest of the party with your thighs wet beneath your dress and your body unsated. You start to straighten up, to turn around, to beg him to take you but his hand in the middle of your back stops you, holding you in place.
And then… he angles your hips just the right way. With the next thrust, he slides smooth and fast into you, the sudden action nearly making your knees buckle with pleasure. Your head drops between your arms as Luke holds you up by the hips, driving into you with unrestrained hunger, one that matches your own. You have to bite your lips to keep from crying out.
Applause rings out from the ballroom; the last speech is over. People will be looking for the two of you soon.
As if in response to your thought, Luke thrusts faster, and you’re shockingly close to orgasm after all his teasing. While the applause echoes, he lets out a soft cry, rocking hard against you once and holding there, and that’s enough to utterly finish you. You press your face against your arm to keep from screaming at the waves of pleasure shimmering through your body. It feels like your bones are melting inside you. By the time you’re done, Luke really is holding you up, all the strength gone from your legs.
He pulls you up into his arms, slowly turning you around again so you can lean against the wall. After he’s redressed, he carefully fixes your skirt and grins at you. “Can you walk?”
“You—I can’t believe that you—” Your heart is still racing as you try to stand up straight. Immediately you feel the first trickle of wetness against your thighs, the combination of your orgasm and his, and you shiver, knowing that in order to get cleaned up, you’ll have to walk through the crowd like this. It feels a little like a brand, a mark of ownership—not something you ever thought you’d enjoy, but here you are. “That was very wicked of you,” you finally manage to say.
“You started it.” Luke steadies you with his arm around your waist, stealing a kiss. “If I were really going to be wicked, I’d tell you that you have to spend the rest of the evening just like this.” He nuzzles your ear and murmurs. “Knowing that part of me is still on your skin.”
“Luke…” Oh god, he’s got you whining again and how can you possibly still feel so needy after that orgasm?
“But I won’t,” he chuckles. “I’ll leave that up to you. And when we get home tonight, I’ll learn what you decided.” He stops and turns you to face him fully, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep. “Because I am not done with you tonight. Do you believe me?”
You nod, watching his eyes. There are still a couple of hours to go before you can go home, and you have a feeling they’re going to be the longest hours of your life...