Sexual Politics Rating: PG
ThrawnMcEwok

He blinked sleepily, and found himself lying flat on his back, in a bed that was far too big. The sheets were tangled around his legs, a balmy morning breeze whispering across his bare chest, and, a woman's slim body lay snug against his own. The two of them seemed to fit well in the Force, sharing a pleasant, mutual warmth.

He listened for a moment to the question and answer of their breathing, feeling the lift and fall of her chest against his own. His nipples stiffened, and he shivered, then groaned as he tried to find words and memories — and instead, woke up his hangover.

It felt like a proton torpedo going off inside his mind.

He groaned again, took a deeper breath, and looked at the woman, trying to focus. She was slim but strong, with the lean muscles of an athlete under smooth olive skin, her head pillowed comfortably on his shoulder. Her hair tumbled forward in a veil to hide her face — rare copper-red curls that caught flashes of the morning sunlight like molten gold, like blaster-bolts off the blade of a lightsaber.

She shifted contentedly against him, laughing in her sleep, and a lock of her tangled hair flopped down into his mouth

"Mphh!!" he protested, trying to spit her hair out of his mouth — and found his words muffled by more than just red-gold hair.

"Mphh!" He tried to rise, and found his wrists drawn taut outward. He rolled his head on the pillow, seeing the leather cuffs shackling him to the bedposts He flexed his body, and an answering tug told him that his ankles were similarly bound.

"Mpph!"

She shifted in response to his frantic bucking, and he felt a flash of anger as she woke, like lightning that disippated into morning sun as she collected her thoughts. A light sleeper, strong emotions, and a stronger self-control.

He liked that, he realised, relaxing a little.

Even if he was in something of a compromising position.

The face which greeted him as she propped up on one elbow him was smiling, happy in a cool, controlled way — radiantly restrained. Her eyes were green, sharper first thing in the morning than most people's would be at the peak of the day, and there was a lively bounce to her hair even when it was snarled by the chaos of sex and sleep. She was beautiful — her face only made more beautiful by the firmness of her jaw and the lines around the edges of her mouth and the corners of her eyes.

Luke Skywalker, last of the Jedi Knights, could only stare up at her, a helpless slave, eyes wide in something between terror and worship.

Ta'a Chume!! his mind screamed, realisation tearing like agony through the heavy shutters of his hangover. "Mhhpp!!" NO!

"Good morning, Jedi Skywalker," the ruling Mother of the Hapes Star Cluster said, ruffling his hair with an affectionate hand as she rose up onto all fours above him. "Thank you for last night." Her smile was genuine, sympathetic and amused — but also calmly political, even here. "Not quite the challenge I expected — but a surprising pleasure, nonetheless."

He could only moan in pleasure and despair as she planted a gentle, triumphant kiss on his open mouth.

And the vicious, happy smile she quirked at him as she lifted her lips away only made it much, much worse.

"Hmm," she said, licking her lips, a thoughtful shadow on her face as her eyes roamed over him. Her fingers traced the cuff around his wrist. "Perhaps I won't have to marry my son to your sister after all."


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