#this is not eloquent man but i uhhhhhhh. i love him so much

[mechieonu]

genuinely considering writing a treatise on scott or smth bc i love him so much. wish i could be artful and list exactly, EXPLICITLY what it is he has that i adore

[separatist-apologist]

Could you…please…write a, ahem, sexy part of the SW AU? Uhhhhhhh, also could we have a smug Lucien being, well smug, toward Grayson? love your writing, I love for it ❤️❤️

SAY. LESS. The way I wrote this so fast. RATED M FOR MY MAN, LUCIEN, CONTROL YOURSELF (NSFW)

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He couldn’t get the Naboo senator from his mind. He had no right, of course. She hailed from literal royalty—her younger sister was the Queen of Naboo, elected for an unheard of fourth term. It was the elder sister that introduced him, accidentally of course. Nesta Archeron, Rebel hero, General Archeron to him and those like him. They aspired to follow in her example when it came to fighting Imps. She’d brought her sister to see the New Republic Navy and Lucien, the best pilot by a Corellian mile had been the perfect person to show her around.

Elain was nothing like Nesta, at least on the surface. Encased in buttery soft fabric, her hair twisted prettily from her face, Elain looked at everything without giving away a single though. She said little though he’d sworn he caught her smiling at one of his many attempts at a joke. Nesta didn’t comment on his flirting when Elain retreated back to the senate house but Lucien was smitten.

Only Elain, with her golden brown hair and her heart shaped face, could convince him to brave senators arguing on the floor. It was technically open to the public, and broadcast across the holo and yet from the very top level, he was one of the rare few who’d come to watch. The debate centered on the remnants of the Empire. Sympathizers still existed on worlds that hadn’t been touched by the horror and their Senators argued passionately for leniency. Lucien could offer the Empire no mercy and never would. The only good Imp was a dead one, in his opinion.

Leaning against smooth, bronze railing, he watched Elain stand. Her hair twisted about her face elegantly in a fashion he was unfamiliar with. Her rose colored gown hung from freckled shoulders and he wondered how anyone managed to get anything done in the face of such loveliness.

“It is a mistake, as my colleague so eloquently argues, to allow the Empire access to the Mid-Rim. They continue to push further and further into the core even now, as they plunder planets outside of the New Republic’s purview. There have been reports they are taking children, to what purposes I still cannot fathom. Sanctions are too soft—it is time the New Republic took a hard line and wiped them from the galaxy. If we do not, it is my fear they will rebuild somewhere we do not see them and the devastation will be catastrophic.”

The Coruscanti senator, a man Lucien had seen broadcast on the holo—Graysen, he thought—rolled his eyes.

“Your alarmist fear mongers wreak of the election cycle,” he snorted. “The Empire is no more, the fragmants scattered about wild space. Why, if the Empire is as bold as you claim, what is our Navy doing to combat it? Why have a Navy at all, if they’re so ill equipped?”

Lucien bristled at that comment. They did too much, were patrolling too often. They still lost people to the cause, hidden from the comfortable view of the wealthy elite like Graysen.

“A war is not won in one decisive battle—” Elain attempted but Graysen cut her off. He ran a hand through perfectly coiffed brown hair.

“To hear you speak, you’d think no war was won at all. Frankly, I find it disrespectful to our veterans and all those we lost. A moment of silence, if you will, for their sacrifice—”

Elain’s outrage was clear from the nosebleed seats. She crossed her arms over her chest, dropping into the rounded chair of her platform. He’d bested her, Lucien surmised, though it seemed cheap. Lucien didn’t understand why she didn’t press the other senator, or call him out on his showman ship.

It seemed they were at time for the day. He raced down purpled carpeted stairs, catching her in a hall lined with offices.

“Mr. Vanserra,” Elain replied crisply the moment he jogged up beside her. Flames seemed to dance in the brown of her eyes, and though she was a small woman, hardly rising to his shoulders, he flinched away. “How can I help you?”

He shrugged, unwilling to admit he’d come to watch her orate. “Want me to beat that guy up?” he asked instead, thumbing behind him in Graysen’s direction. Elain glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“Hold that thought,” she said, stopping in her tracks. They’d spoke of the devil and he’d come to answer. Graysen, dressed in expensive white and gold robes, joined them a moment later.

“No hard feelings, right?” Graysen asked, glancing from Elain to Lucien. His lips thinned at whatever he saw on Lucien’s face. “It’s just politics.”

“It’s not just politics,” Elain snapped. “It’s reallives of real people.”

“The war is over,” Graysen said, his voice placating. “We need to move forward, we need to promote unity—”

“Unity doesn’t free the wookies,” Elain interrupted, shoulders squared. Lucien figured she fought her battles perfectly well all on her own and yet maintained his imposing presence, just in case she decided to throw a punch. “It doesn’t undo Kashyyk or Scariff—”

“Let’s talk about this over dinner,” Graysen said smoothly. “Seven, at my place?”

Her mouth fell open, as though calculating what his audacity was worth. “Dinner?”

He nodded, ignoring Lucien completely. Lucien wished he’d left, then, nervous Elain might accept. Graysen seemed like her type, even if he was a bastard. Rich, well-dressed, nails that weren’t caked in engine oil…

“Even if I could—and I can’t—what makes you think I would share a meal with you?” “You did, once,” he remined her with an obnoxious, paternalistic patience. Lucien’s hands curled to fists and he wondered how angry she might be if he just hit Graysen anyway? There was no reverence to his tone, no appreciation for having spent a moment in Elain’s presence. Only a sneering reminder that she’d once lowered herself and he remained patently ungrateful.

“A mistake. I’ll be with Lucien this evening, besides.”

“We have a thing,” Lucien added with a wink, unable to help himself. Elain turned to look up at him, eyes narrowed. Under fire, he held his breath. She might kill him…he’d be grateful she touched him at all.

“Yes,” Elain agreed. “Lucien is a man of honorbesides.”

Lucien adjusted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised defiantly. Graysen looked him up and down, from his scuffed boots to his worn black jacket, the emblem of the resistance patched over the sleeve in vibrant orange.

“Suit yourself, I suppose,” Graysen grumbled. “We can talk later.”

“Perhaps enroute to Kashyyyk?” she called over Graysen’s retreating back. He merely waved her off and Elain, still angry, sucked at her teeth.

“He’s not going to go to Kashyyyk, Elain,” Lucien told her.

“I know that,” she snapped in response. She turned for her office door and Lucien trotted behind, utterly besotted.

“I know you said it as a joke,” Lucien began the moment her office door hissed shut behind him. “But I consider it set in stone that you’ll spend the night with me?”

Elain braced her palms on her sleek, white desk. Plants hung from a large window, the setting sun filtering warmly into the room. She looked up at him, framed by an abstract gold and pink portrait framed in carved white wood.

“I have a blaster under this desk,” she warned.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Lucien replied. Elain studied him, her eyes a brand as they travelled down his body. It was a goodbody, too. His face was a little beaten up, one eye missing from a fire fight, replaced with a golden eye that gave him a distinct advantage in air fights. The scar over that cut through could be ugly, too, though the rest of him—flawless.

He’d never had a complaint, though he’d never made a pass at a Queen’s sister, either.

“I think, if I told you that you’re cute, you’d tell me you know,” Elain began, straightening from behind her desk. Lucien went still for a moment, his body tightening.

“Nesta told me you’re a real hot head,” she continued, dragging a finger over the surface of her desk while walking towards him. “Flyboy,she called you.”

“You asked about me?” His heart pounded a beat that seemed to fill the silence between them. He was tempted to grip the back of the black leather chair situated in front of him, knees shaking with anticipation…and, if he was honest, a little fear.

Elain shrugged, cheeks tinged the prettiest shade of pink he’d ever seen. She stopped at the front of her desk, only a chair between them. “You made an impression. Why are you here, again, Lucien?”

He lived and died by his name on her lips. He would have crawled over razors to hear her say it again.

“I uh…” he cleared his throat. “I wanted to see you in action.”

“You picked a poor day for that,” she replied, some of the sensuality fading. Lucien pushed the chair out of his way, walking until he was hovering over her.

“I’m so tired of politicians placating their wealthy donors,” he told her, risking the moment to brush a loose wisp of hair from her forehead. “You were so…so…” he needed something eloquent to press upon her what it meant to him to hear her state his lived reality so clearly. “Magnificent. You understand.I…I am a little nervous, if we’re being honest. I’m not sure if—” She silenced him with her mouth, surging upwards on her tiptoes to kiss him. He gasped, surprised by her boldness.

She slid back to the floor before he could grasp for her. “Sorry,” she murmured, looking at her feet. “You just talk a lot.”

He choked on the air he breathed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Still, Lucien couldn’t resist cupping her face, thumb brushing over her soft cheek. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Stop talking and—” It felt good to silence her, to take control of the moment. He wasn’t particularly nice about it, though he was careful not to hurt her, hoisting her up on her desk to level the distance between them. Elain gasped at his shoulders and opened her mouth, her tongue clearly skilled at more than just speaking. He groaned despite himself, lost in the bright, sweet taste of her. Her kiss was honeyed lightning, igniting something wild and reckless in him. He pressed further, until he had her flat against her desk. Something fragile shattered on the floor behind them for all she seemed to care. She raked her fingers through his hair, undoing the messy ponytail tied against the back of his neck.

He ran a hand up her body, eyes rolling in the back of his head when her legs wrapped around his hips, dragging him closer still until there was nothing but fabric separating them. She could feel the very real proof of his desire grinding against her.

“This is happening,” he breathed, half delirious at the thought. Elain nipped at the skin of his throat.

“Shut up, Lucien,” she replied, pulling him back for a messy kiss. Her dress tangled around her legs until he slid his hands over her thighs, wondering if it was right to take her like this. She answered for him, decisive and lovely as she pushed his jacket off his body and reached for the hem of his shirt. She had it off before he could protest, leaning up on her elbows to look at him. Lucien stood then, nearly laughing at the sight of the senator laid over her desk, legs hanging from the sides.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, running a hand down the flat, muscular plains of his torso. She grinned, beckoning for him to return with the crook of her finger. He had other, more interesting ideas. Lucien sank to his knees and finished lifting her skirts. She was nearly bare, save for a strip of cloth that was easy enough to push out of the way. He heard her breath catch overhead though in truth, he was utterly fixated on the sight of her glistening sex.

“Are you wet already?” he asked, brushing his thumb over the enterance. “Or have you been since we met?”

“You are so cocky,” she accused.

“That wasn’t a denial,” he reminded her with a grin. Ignoring how his body screamed, begged to be inside her, Lucien lowered himself even further, prostrating himself before his Queen. He would have done anythingshe demanded of him, committed atrocities in her name. That she only asked him to pleasure her made him delirious.

She exhaled loudly at the first swipe of his tongue, the sound punctuated only by another crash of an object once housed on her desk. Unable to suppress his smile, Lucien continued. He moved at a slow, torturous pace until he found that swollen, quivering bud, circling it. She gripped his hair.

“Stars, Lucien,” she panted. He nearly raised his head and demanded who hadn’t been doing this before but decided he couldn’t stand the thought of any other man touching her. Her past was buried in that moment, incinerated, the ashes blown to nothing in the wind. It would only be him, them.

“Say it again,” he begged instead, picking up the pace when her fingers tugged at his hair.

“Earn it,” was her reply, her nails digging against his scalp. He tossed her legs over his shoulders and buried his face in her pussy, narrowing his world to only her. The taste of her was heady, overwhelming. He all but forgot his own need, utterly entranced in the sounds he heard.

He couldn’t resist being in her, though. She was far too tempting, her wetness coating his face. One hand gripped her thigh while the other slid one finger into the tight heat of her. He could feel her squeeze against his skin, both on his hand and his cock. His brain exploded beneath the awareness of what it might feel like to be buried inside her, demanding he finish this so they might find out.

“Lucien,” she gasped again. He groaned against her, so tightly wound he could feel his sanity starting to slip. It was a punishment only for him, to push that second finger in her, to feel her grip him like a vice. He pumped, mouth working her until her legs wrapped around his ears, hand holding him in place.

She wasn’t quiet. Anyone nearby might have heard the strangled plea that erupted from her. She tugged at his hair and Lucien flew to his feet, kissing her roughly, desperately. He wanted her to taste herself, to see the manifested proof of her desire.

Elain, the clever thing, undid his pants before he realized what was happening, too transfixed by her mouth and mingled taste of them. “Say it,” he demanded roughly, his voice foreign to even his own ears. Elain, dress hiked over her hips, her hair in disarray, eyes so dark they seemed pupilless, looked up at him.

“Lucien please,” she panted, hand wrapped around the thick shaft of his cock. She stroked once as he attempted to control his breathing through his mouth, his forehead pressed against her own.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, pressing the tip against her soaked opening.

“I could ask you the same,” she replied, arching her back as though the waiting was painful for her. Lucien braced his body against the desk, one palm flat on the cool surface, and slid wholly inside her.

Star erupted behind his vision, brighter than anything he’d ever seen. For a moment he was struck dumb, unable to do anything but breathe. A soft ringing and Elain’s own panting was the only sound he heard.

“Stars, Elain,” he gasped. She only nodded; her eyes locked on his. He couldn’t fail now, not when he’d come so far. Kriff, he’d only meant to watch her work. Only in his darkest imaginings did he picture having her. Lucien could hardly stand to withdraw, even an inch though the shuddering pleasure of returning fully to her made him dizzy with need. Had he ever felt so overwhelmed by pleasure, so utterly hot and cold all at once?

He pressed the pad of his thumb against her still trembling, swollen clit and rubbed. Lucien knew he wasn’t long for this world, that he’d finish embarrassingly quickly and needed to see her come at least once more. She mewled soft sounds of pleasure that seemed to settle in the base of his cock, driving him until he was more beast than man, a creature older than time itself.

She tightened around him, her back arched as though invisible hands pulled he by strings. He felt her before he heard her, felt the soft flush of warmth, the vise like grip around his too hard cock. Lucien grunted—he might have been embarrassed by the sound that escaped his throat had the whole thing not felt so good. White light exploded behind his eyes as he shattered to pieces, lightning filling his veins. For a moment he was nothing at all, existed only at her pleasure.

His legs shook and it was all he could do to not fall to the floor, to let her see how utterly besotted he was. Elain watched him slide out of her body, sitting up like a princess to primly cover her knees in her skirt. He contrast, he sat legs apart in her chair, grunting like a goblin running for its life. Long strands of his hair hung in his face and he was sure there was nothing handsome about him now.

“What are you looking for?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

“A wife,” he replied, eyes locking with hers. “But dinner will do. Let me buy you dinner.”

It was more plea than statement. Elain smiled so sweetly, hopping off the desk.

“Will you put your pants back on, or…?”

He practically tripped out of his chair, dressing himself without a shred of elegance of dignity. Elain watched, amused, slipping her hand into his. “So. A wife, huh? I didn’t think cocky flyboys settled down.”

“You’re wrong,” he informed her, stopping to pull her against him. He just needed to touch her for a moment, to feel her close. “You’ll see.”

She had no idea.

But she would.