Your office, situated high in a Coruscant skyscraper, has a great view. You
stand before the transparisteel window as laborers move your desk and cabinets into place,
trying to feel the awe that you’d expected. You’ve spent your entire life
trying to get to this point-- an office with a view.
Of course, it’s a view of buildings, traffic, more buildings, an occasional glimpse of blue sky, more traffic, more buildings... //Ooh, people!// You can barely see colorful dots moving along a walkway several skyscrapers away from you. Growing up near the surface of Coruscant, your goal was always to live higher, to see the sky, to feel real rain instead of the dripping runoff from buildings overhead. Maybe even see a garden; there weren’t any ‘down there.’
That’s the problem, you realize. All you see is more of the same dead ferrocrete and transparisteel. Supposedly there *is* a garden nearby, established recently by the New Republic to exhibit geosystems and plantlife from around the galaxy.
You hear a crash and turn to see the laborers struggling to right a fallen datacard filescase. Sighing, you decide to escape and spend the rest of your day exploring the flora of various worlds.
“Oh, wow.” You can’t hide the awe in your voice as you stare at your first stop. You walked through a door marked ‘Bothawui,’ and immediately found yourself in the middle of a field. A holoprojector cast the image of waving grass onto the walls, creating the impression of a never-ending savannah.
You spend half an hour kneeling in the rass, trying to identify the different species by comparing them to the images on the datapad you snagged at the visitor’s centre. You have to tear yourself away from this peaceful place and move on to another chamber.
The datapad says that Chandrila is known for the red algae that grows along its coastlines. You stand in the sand, watching the tiny waves created by a submerged tidal machine. A reddish glow under the water draws you closer, and you stare in rapt fascination at the algae. Glancing about, you see that this chamber is otherwise unoccupied. A wicked smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you leave your shoes and stockings in the sand, hike your dress up to your knees, and wade into the water.
The algae floats near the surface, tiny fish feeding on the red stalks. Unlike most red algae, the datapad says, Chandrila’s variety is not poisonous. That’s a good thing to know, since you’re traipsing about in it. You can’t resist the urge to splash around just a little in sheer delight. The water is cool and clear, and tingles where it splashes your bare skin.
“That looks like fun.”
You drop your dress and turn around in fright. A handsome man stands in the doorway watching you. He smiles and steps forward, letting the door slide shut behind him.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘That’s OK.’ You remember your dress and yank it back out of the water. ‘It’s just that I’ve never seen an ocean before,’ you explain.
The man chuckles and walks down the ‘beach’ to where you stand. ‘You still haven’t,’ he reminds you.
‘Well, yeah, but I can pretend.’ You smile up at him and your breath catches when he smiles back, mirth shining in his warm brown eyes. He grins at you for a moment, then sits down in the sand and pulls off his boots.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve played in the surf,’ he says, rolling up the legs of his pants. You try not to watch the tantalizing way that his muscles move under the sleeves of his tunic. Then he stands and grabs your hand, pulling you along with him. You yelp with laughter as he kicks water at you, then reciprocate until you’re both out of air and thoroughly splashed.
Silky dark hair hangs down in his face as he gives you a boyish grin. Unthinking, you reach forward and push the strands back, then freeze as he grabs your hand. Warm breath teases your skin before his lips press against the back of your hand, lingering there as his eyes hold yours.
You shiver; it feels as though he’s gazing into your soul. ‘Who are you?’ you whisper.
He smiles slightly but doesn’t release your hand. ‘Wedge Antilles.’
With a jolt, you realize that you know that name. Commander Antilles, leader of the infamous Rogue Squadron, liberator of Coruscant. You’ve heard that enough ice water runs in his veins to replenish the planet’s polar ice caps.
//Ice? No, not this man. He’s pure fire.//
You realize that he’s asking your name, and you manage not to stammer when you answer. He’s looking at you with that little smile again. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘You too,’ you say quietly. The door slides open and a group of Sullustans enter. They stare for a moment at you and Wedge, then solemnly begin to remove their shoes. Grinning madly, you and your new friend slink out of the water toward your own shoes.
‘I think we’ve started a trend,’ Wedge murmurs as the Sullustans plow into the water, splashing and cheebling happily. Your eyes sparkle in response as you ponder whether to put your stockings back on. You don’t want to, but your dress has no pockets and your folding pouch is only large enough for ID and credcards.
‘Here,’ Wedge takes your stockings and shoves them into his pocket, then flashes a roguish smile. ‘You can have them back if you’ll do something for me.’
You can’t help the anticipation that bubbles up in your stomach. ‘And what might that be?’
He takes your hand again and leads you out the door. ‘Come with me to the Corellian exhibit.’
You’re more than willing to comply. The doorway labeled ‘Corellia’ is on an upper level, and you studiously pour over the datapad, too anxious to look at your guide as he leads the way. He stops at the door and turns the pad off.
‘Close your eyes,’ he orders softly, then steps behind you and rests a hand on your shoulder. The other gently enfolds yours, and you melt under the heat and pressure of his body so close to yours.
Wedge guides your hand forward to brush against the door controls. Your heart is pounding so loudly that you barely hear the door swoosh open. Your companion cautiously propels you forward and your heels sink into thick grass. Fragrance surrounds you, and you realize that you’re standing in a sea of flowers.
Hot breath tickles your earlobe. ‘You can look now.’
The first glimpse takes your breath away. You’ve never seen so many flowers in your life! Native Corellian blooms in every shade of the rainbow surround you, laid out in a formal garden setting. The grass you stand on is a sweet-scented emerald; tall hedges and trees form a backdrop for the stunning array of flora.
Behind you, Wedge chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek. ‘You’re a Throneworlder, all right,’ he says, still amused. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a flower?’
‘Of course,’ you reply haughtily. ‘Just not so many in one place.’ Your voice fills with awe. ‘We don’t have gardens near the surface.’
Wedge closes the door and gazes at you a little sadly. ‘I can’t imagine that,’ he says quietly. ‘When I was a kid, I spent half the year on a farm school. We were around life every day.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ you sigh, eagerly drinking in the vision around you.
You don’t bother looking at the datapad again. Your self-appointed guide can identify most of the plantlife, as well as tell you which are edible and which will make you hallucinate. You teasingly ask how he knows that a ter’shan leaf causes people to see things through a purple haze. Wedge ducks his head, blushing.
‘We didn’t know before we tried it!’
The two of you stroll between the hedges, occasionally brushing hands as you feel the texture of the leaves. Each involuntary touch makes you tremble, and you step away from him to examine the scarlet flowers growing on a trellis. You reach out and gently stroke one of the petals. The flower unfolds at your touch, revealing a deeper crimson interior.
‘How lovely,’ you murmur.
Wedge moves beside you and slides his arm around your waist. ‘It’s a Fire Rose,’ he tells you. ‘Also called a wanton rose.’ He reaches out to the bloom you’d been studying and barely brushes his finger against it.
‘See how it opens at a touch?’ His voice is deeper now, and the arm that was enfolding you pulls back, his hand now resting possessively on your lower back.
His touch affects you in much the same way as it does the flower. Your skin is aflame and you long to open for him. Nervously, you raise a quavering hand to the blossom, caressing one of the petals.
The flower strains from the heightened contact, its petals trembling. As you watch breathlessly, Wedge’s fingers dance across the satin surface of the rose and come to rest atop yours. You close your eyes as he begins to stroke you, his long, slender fingers twining with yours, his touch light and airy. His lips graze your neck and you sway against him, unable to hide your arousal.
His breath scorches your skin. ‘They say its pollen is an aphrodisiac.’ You turn your head and feel his mouth hover millimeters above yours.
‘Is that true?’ Your own voice is faint as his other hand begins to caress your back, moving higher until it slips under your hair and massages your neck.
‘Yes.’ You feel, rather than hear, his words. His breath is a whisper against your lips, and you feel the slightest pressure as skin touches skin, then retreats.
His fingers leave yours, and you hear him snap the rose’s stem. He barely touches the petals to your forehead, just enough for you to feel the coolness of the flower and inhale its fragrance. You raise your hands to his chest to push him away, but he groans at your touch and your resolve melts. You are his.
You open your eyes. His are closed, a look of anguished desire on his face. A lock of brown hair cascades over his forehead, and you raise a hand to touch its silky softness. He whispers your name as he draws the blossom across your face, caressing your cheeks, lingering on your lips as your fingers comb through his hair.
Then his voice is harsher, darker, and his lips capture yours in a bruising kiss.
His hands clasp you to him, one still tangled in your hair, the other roaming over your back to pull you firmly against his body. Something insistently hard presses against your stomach, and your knees weaken.
Your mind reels as he ravishes your mouth, his tongue twining with yours until you are breathless. Dropping to his knees, he looks up at you with hungry brown eyes and rests his head against your stomach. His hands caress your legs, massaging them gently as he travels higher under your dress. Cloth whispers against your skin as he slides your panties down your legs, and you step out of them and your shoes.
Talented fingers stroke the insides of your thighs, and you moan. You sink to the ground beside Wedge and reach for him, but he holds your hands away from himself. He presses you onto your back and kisses you, gently this time, then sits back and holds the crimson rose before your eyes.
Heat flows in your veins when you feel the soft petals stroking your ankle, moving upward slowly, reaching your knee before Wedge moves to the other leg. He kneels between your thighs, rubbing the flower against your skin in a slow, circular motion. You watch him with passion-dark eyes, feeling the wetness begin to flow within you as the blossom comes closer to your treasure.
Wedge raises your skirt above your waist, and teases your navel with the flower. You cry out, begging him with your eyes, and he slowly drags the bloom lower, between your legs, brushing it ever so lightly against your lips. You raise your hips, seeking to prolong the contact, and Wedge chuckles low in his throat.
There is nothing between your skin and his mouth; no clothing, no flower, nothing but his tongue seeking out your mysteries. You arch against him, whimpering incoherently as he sucks your labia into his mouth, then tastes the nectar that lies between them. His groan of pleasure vibrates through your core. His tongue snakes out to tease your nub and he presses his face into you as you moan and plead with him never to stop. Your body leaps higher until you pass through the stratosphere and crash back down on Coruscant.
Wedge sits up as you open your eyes and gaze at him. His face is a mask of need, and the bulge in his trousers demands attention. You reach for him and fumble with the clasp of his pants, then your eyes widen as you free his turgid member. Seeing your apprehension, Wedge’s face becomes gentle and he kisses you slowly as you lay back on the grass.
‘I won’t hurt you,’ he murmurs, his hand sliding between your bodies to test your readiness. You gasp as his fingers part your folds and a warm gush of nectar assures him of your desire. His lips linger on yours, sweet and soft, and his hand strokes your faces as he pushes into you.
You open for him as willingly as the Fire Rose. Wedge moves slowly, allowing you to adjust to his ample size. He pauses, breathing heavily, then pulls back. You cry out and wrap your legs around his narrow waist to keep him inside you. He slides further into you, filling you completely.
Your body responds, matching his deep, languid thrusts. You moan quietly as the startling fullness gives way to a pulsing need. Your walls clench and release and you sigh contentedly, riding the slow rolling wave of your orgasm.
Wedge props himself on his hands and takes your lower lip between his teeth, nibbling gently as his hips speed up. Your mind is still foggy, but your body is primed and begins to reach for another zenith. Your hands roam under his tunic, running your fingernails down his back. Wedge shudders and his mouth covers yours, devouring your breath as he thrusts faster, stoking the fire that burns deep within you.
Your legs tighten around him and suddenly he’s found that perfect rhythm, the perfect spot, and you tear your mouth away from his and beg him to take you harder. His arms tremble as he holds himself above you and he groans your name.
‘Come for me. I want to see you... want to feel you...’ His desperate greedy tone fills your ears as his swollen manhood fills your body. Your eyes roll back as you give yourself to him. It’s on you before you realize it; the mind-bending pleasure and agony of your climax wrack your body. Your sheath contracts and Wedge utters a sobbing cry, then buries his face in the crook of your neck as he follows you over the edge. His heat fills you and he thrusts once, twice, then collapses onto your chest, still buried inside you.
You run your fingers through his sweaty, silken hair and kiss his forehead. He mumbles something incoherent and squeezes you tightly, kneading your curves like a contented kitten. You turn your face to the side and inhale the fragrance of the grass underneath your bodies, and wonder how often the gardeners have to water and trim it.
“Sithspit!” You struggle to sit up, yanking you both out of your groggy euphoria. Wedge frowns and starts to speak, but is silenced by the sound of the door sliding open.
He stands and pulls you to your feet, hastily fastening his trousers and tucking his tunic in as you retrieve your panties. Quiet voices converse in the outer part of the garden as Wedge finger-combs your hair and makes sure that no blades of grass are stuck to your dress.
Holding hands, you and he casually wander around the hedge, examining the leaves as though you aren’t about to spontaneously combust. You nod at the older couple who are walking through the flowers, murmuring happily together, then leisurely saunter toward the door.
When it slides shut behind you, Wedge turns to you with a devilish grin and pulls you into his arms.
‘Would you like to continue that where we won’t be interrupted?’ he asks, running his hands down your back to squeeze your buttocks.
Your sensuous kiss is answer enough.
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