NC-17, for adults ONLY

He did it again.

I smirk. He feels my footsteps behind his back. He's angry. And it's all too easy to disappoint my father. He stares at the window, in the same position he assumed half an hour ago to be lectured. Were I the Sith I could have been, I surely would like to soak into his rage, pure like the lines of the muscles on his neck. The Sith in me screams, and I begin our game.

"Lorth Needa…"

I hiss his name slowly, my mouth inches away from the bare skin between his nape and the high collar of his uniform. He recognizes my voice, and tenses a little more, my hands keeping him from moving, lightly resting on the arms so briskly kept into the attention position. His stiffness is formal and so upper class- bringing back my not very fond memories of the boy, no, the man that the moment and the occasion surrender to my bidding.

"Captain. Still up and mighty, it seems, Lorth…

I lead my touch higher, enjoying the sensation of the rough fabric and the man alive, underneath- for his rage tells me he's not the cold, arrogant classmate of- what? Five, six years ago? Maybe ten? He used to be the perfect little boy with a promising career into the fleet before him, know-it-all and natural born bootlicker. And now he's here, under my father's command, trying not to incur into his wrath too much to remain alive, like most of the (incompetent) upper ranks of the armada.

"You did it again, didn't you?"

The skin of his neck is soft. Pale and soft, tantalizing like that scent of his, hard and cold and definitely masculine. He shivers lightly against the pattern I'm lazily tracing. "Disappointing my father is not very difficult, I must say…" The shell of his ear, delicate and elegant, my finger longing to the path of his well-defined jaw. "… but one should assume sheer incompetence before the fact you're still alive. He must know you aren't that bright, Needa.

He spins in the exact moment I break the contact. His eyes search mine, blind and enraged. I pushed the right button, of course. So gullible, Lorth… His answer's voice is rough and fast. "And you, young lady? What are you doing here, civilian? As always, enjoying your father's position, Vader?" And now he's alive and real, perfect and appealing and white hot like the rage, the energy he's showing. "I wanted to tell you from the beginning, girl." I eye him, trying to cold as his breath swells against my face. "You-"

How could I resist? My mouth sucks his voice into a kiss, my tongue drowning the words of his protest into a new kind of battle. So edible, I think as his hands roughly explore my body through the plains of my outfit. Is this rage or lust? Who cares, it's fire. Luckily my rooms are near, so I nimbly drag him in and begin to take away every piece of clothing that comes at hand, mine or his. I feel my moan as finally he finds bare skin, metal wall my only support during the all too slow process of discovering his body to my eyes. He's going hard when I take him into my hand, his instant reaction a long bite on my chin. "Sorry-" he tries, but I take his mouth and taste my blood, trying to clear away the maddening memory of that young, attractive, throughout annoying boy still haunting my fantasies. He enters me smoothly and I bite his lips, his pain breaking the kiss in the moment he hits fully at home.

"Pretty boy…"

And indeed he is, only he's not a memory neither a boy, anymore but a man, real and fervent under the thick layer of education and rules, his pale cheecks coloured by the passion that lets me swell his lips with violent kisses and not too tender hands. Power, finally revealed, unrestrained as I feel it electrifying my body as he whispers to my ears that he wanted me from the beginning, that I was haunting his mind then as always, perfect little minx I was and I am, his words arousing me in the distinct feeling of possession underneath his words. He yelps in surprise as I grab his hair and tug, the pale expanse of his neck revealed again as pleasure takes us both higher and higher, until we fall abruptly into the warm abyss of climax.