The Gala - After Finding Out
Marriage Hunt!AU - Main Post
Jango really really wants to ravish Anakin right now.
All the pent up frustration and stress of the last few months, ever since he learned their names have been put forward for a political marriage, are finally dissolving and leaving him in a great rush.
He presses Anakin harder against the wall, regretting his insistence at wearing his full armour. He’d wanted the barrier it offered against whoever the Senate chose as his Hunt partner. But now, knowing it’s Anakin, knowing they’d worried for nothing, that they can and will be together without the Order, the Senate or Mandalore being able to say anything against their union and yet, being unable to feel his beloved's warmth against his body… It makes him want to get rid of it.
Even then, despite the cold and unforgiving metal in the way, he can't stop himself from grinding, hitching his Jetii's legs up and around his waist and muffling their moans into a fierce kiss.
If he could, they'd already be naked and writhing against each other but the faint voices that reach him through several walls and the heavy drape of the curtain they're hiding under tell him he can't. Not yet. Tomorrow and the following days and for the rest of their lives he'll have all the time in the world to ravish his pretty Jedi husband.
That doesn't stop him from wishing he could start the hunt right now and press Anakin's willing body on soft moss and sink into him with only Pwalot’s moons and stars as witnesses of their marriage.
Instead, one of his hands tugs at Anakin's hair and Jango wrenches his mouth away from the other's, lips and teeth trailing down his Jetii's jaw and neck. His other hand is already fumbling at Anakin's high collar, pulling it aside to reveal a faint bruise.
Jango put it there the last time they saw each other, thinking that, when they'd meet again it'd be with someone else at their side. The skin around it is still red and puffy, the bruise almost as vivid as the first day. Jango feels a rush of fondness and arousal, knowing Anakin probed at and pressed on the mark, Jango's mark, to keep it longer on his skin.
He surges forward, presses his teeth into it and bites.
Anakin hisses and gasps, remembering at the last moment to keep quiet. He writhes against Jango, rubbing his aching groin against cold armour and wishing for warm skin instead. His hands scramble at Jango's back and head, trying something to hold on.
Jango likes having his hair played with when he puts his mark on his partner but...he couldn't bear the thought of someone else touching the curls Anakin so loves. So he cut everything after their last encounter.
He regrets it a bit now, when his Jedi's fingers catch on his cape instead of his hair but it'll grow back. They have time now.
Unfortunately they have to stop after a bit. Jango is the Manda'lor son and if the insistent beeping of his comm is of any indication, he's already been missing too long.
Slowly, reluctantly, with lingering touches and kisses, they separate.
To look presentable, Jango only has to put the flower crown back on his head from where it fell when they started kissing.
Anakin...is another matter entirely.
The flowers woven into his Jetii's hair are either crushed or dislodged, only a few have successfully escaped Jango's wandering hands and tugging fingers. The damage could have been excused by a quick nap if not for Anakin's flushed face, blown eyes and creased clothes.
Where Jango wears armour, hiding any creases under it’s protection, Anakin is wearing ceremonial Jedi silk tunics, a traditional garment which had fallen out of use when Jedi married less and less. His usual tunics would have withstood the manhandling and groping but those are made of a finer material and their creased appearance is rather obvious.
Everything combined and it paints a rather damning picture...albeit a very pretty one. Jango can't stop himself from leaning in and stealing a last kiss. Another. And another.
Twenty minutes later and Padme tug them away from their corner, tutting at their disheveling states, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Neither call her out on the smug aura she's exuding.
