#swjfo

“I assume this is about that dress?” you ask and wait with a bated breath.

“Yeah. You got it then? Good. Thought I’d explain,” Cal says.

“I would appreciate that…” you reply slowly and take the silky fabric into your free hand. It feels cool as it flows over your fingers back into a silvery bundle.

“I need you to come with me somewhere.”

//

The dress fits you like a glove and it’s the fanciest thing you’ve worn in years, possibly ever. Getting out of Nur, even if it’s only for a little bit, feels like finally being able to breathe. Denon wouldn’t have been your first choice for a break but you have no grounds to complain.

“You look good,” Cal says casually. He goaded you into taking his arm, but touching him feels weird. It would be easier to face Darth Vader head on in a fight than act natural in the situation.

“Yeah. It’s the dress,” you reply after glancing down once again. The silvery hem flows down your frame and the fabric is so smooth and flimsy that it feels like you’re wearing no clothes at all. That feeling doesn’t exactly add to making you comfortable.

Cal scoffs and chuckles. “What would you have worn then?”

“Well, I literally don’t have any other clothes besides the uniform.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thanks,” you mumble at the floor.

Cal leans his ear towards you and grins. “What’s that?”

You really want to stick your tongue out at him but you’re the next in line and the Lasat guard by the door is already shooting heavily measuring looks your way. You try to look like going freaking clubbing is the most natural way to spend an evening. It’s not easy to forget that you’re in the company of an Imperial Inquisitor. Even if he looks as adorable as a puppy in the black casual clothing.

Fortunately Cal lets the chance to tease you go and you just continue jittering as unnoticeably nervously as you’re able to – until you finally get to walk inside and forget everything else. Whatever your expectations were, you could’ve never imagined the nightclub without actually seeing it.

First of all, the place is so full that it’s a miracle you even got in. Cal probably used his Inquisitor mind tricks or his status for a way in. You don’t want to know which. Secondly, your outfit doesn’t stand out at all. You blend in perfectly with every other patron wagging their asses on the dance floor in skimpy clothing. Thirdly and most obviously, you’ve never been to a nightclub before so it would’ve been hard to imagine typical club behavior and interior without even understanding the concept.

Cal lightly squeezes your arm to claim your attention from the dazzling people on the dance floor.

“Let’s get something to drink,” he says right into your ear to be heard over the loud music. Feeling his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear shoots a tingle up your spine.

You seek out Cal’s gaze to find him smiling rather impishly – he seems to be enjoying himself, possibly because of the atmosphere or the suffering that’s evident on your features. Nevertheless, you nod and steel your grip on his arm.

You have no clue what the drink Cal ordered for you contains, besides a red glow stick. His own drink seems to be clear as water and so your suspicions about the nightclub trip’s true purpose grow tenfold.

“So, will you tell me now why we’re here?” As you lean to say this to Cal’s ear, strands of his hair touch your nose and you realise just how good he smells. The memory of his lips on yours surfaces. Your heart rate speeds up.

Cal only smiles as a reply and pulls you with him, hand nonchalantly circling around your waist. You follow without objections, busy trying to hide the fluster growing over your cheeks.

As you look around in awe, Cal’s senses are sharpened and trained on the people partying around you. His eyes skim every patron inside the nightclub, looking for signs that would raise suspicions. He needs to be extremely careful not to touch anything. As long as his hands are busy on you, the danger is easily avoided. Not that he would reveal anything, but you can sense that something isn’t right with his behaviour. Maybe it’s just the “Inquisitor at work” attitude but there is something more. He is trying too much to appear casual.

Cal asked you to try to enjoy yourself, but it’s impossible.

Before you realise you were not just prancing around aimlessly, he has led you to the dance floor.

“Put your hands here,” Cal says right into your ear and places your hands on his waist.

“Oh, no way, I–”

He is persistent and flashes you a smile that melts any resolve you might have gathered to object to what’s about to happen.

With each passing beat of music and awkward sway of your hips you feel more self-conscious. It would be worse if Cal would even glance at your direction but his gaze is fixated on something behind your back.

You turn to look over your shoulder and jolt.

“Cal? We’ll bump right into–”

It’s too late. Cal is already apologising to the Zabrak patron with a plastic smile on his face. Something isn’t adding up but you decide to play along and smile as apologetically as you can while grabbing his arm to continue dancing.

Cal shoots a relieved look towards you and nods to your left, to the opposite direction of the mean-looking Zabrak.

You have no idea what is going on, but you get the sense that the night’s objective and reason for coming to the nightclub has been achieved. Your every sense is sharpened as Cal drags you to the back of the club to a more secluded area. The hallway is empty and the music volume is low enough to allow normal conversing tone to be heard.

“Cal?” you question hesitantly.

Cal looks uncharacteristically anxious for an Inquisitor. He holds a small pouch in his hand, looking left and right before pouring the contents onto his open palm.

It’s a small, blue crystal – that much you can see before Cal’s hand suddenly spasms. The crystal falls from between his fingers and your first not-so-wise instinct is to pick it up. Against all expectations, nothing happens as you touch it. It just feels warm.

When you look back up, Cal’s whole body jerks and he starts to lean heavily on the wall and slide down.

“W-wha– Are you okay? Cal?” You grip his shoulders to stop him from falling face down onto the floor. He isn’t responding.

Cal collapses into your arms and the leftover colour drains from your face.

“Cal? Cal? What’s wrong?” You frantically seek eye contact. “Tell me what happened!”

He struggles to find words. His body is limp and beads of sweat dot his forehead as you sink to the floor under his weight and push him to lean against the wall.

You look fervently around to seek for help, but Cal grabs your arm and hisses: “Quiet.”

He is pale, eyes glassy and unfocused. His hand befalls over yours, the one holding the blue crystal.  It’s hot in the club but his skin feels clammy and cold. He seems to be regaining his composure, albeit slowly.

“This isn’t just a pleasure trip, right?” you ask in a grim tone.

Cal finally looks at you with empty eyes. His head makes a miniscule shake as if the motion causes him nausea.

“Are we in danger?” you ask with a bated breath.

“I wouldn’t have brought you along if we were,” he says dismissively, still looking weak and nauseated. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead.

You huff in utter disbelief, the true nature of the outing gradually dawning on you. “That’s kind of you. We should probably go now. If you can stand..?” Your eyes skim over the Inquisitor’s rather lithe frame on the floor.

“Y-yeah,” Cal nods, “Just– just gimme a moment.”

You were about to stand up already but settle back down. He is still holding your hand, tightly. As you look around to make sure no one is paying attention to you, Cal’s fingers suddenly touch your cheek and he is much closer than just a second ago.

“I’m glad you came along,” he says in a husky tone.

You blink. “W-what are you saying?”

Cal doesn’t give you a reply but you don’t stop him from pressing his mouth on yours. The moment your lips touch you realise how your heart rate speeds up with anticipation. He has been touching respectably all over your body during the evening and each touch has only added to the tension, waiting when it would finally cross the line. And it’s a semi-public space, no less.

It starts out as a gentle feeling out of each other’s lips. Slowly, Cal stands up, pulling your mouth with him and conveniently tugs you flush to him from the waist – only to turn you both around and push you against the wall he was just leaning on. You sigh into the kiss, still clutching the crystal in your fist. Cal seems to have forgotten about it as his hands rest on your hip and cheek, tongue inviting you into deepening the kiss. And you can’t wait to oblige and give him something else to think about, because that is what this desperation reeks of.

Cal’s hip and thigh press against you, and his knee pushes between your legs. At the pleasant wave of friction you hum into his mouth and your fingers curl into his soft, ginger hair. You no longer need air. You just need him. Closer. Deeper. More.

Cal’s hand circles from your hip to your back, grabbing your ass and he suddenly hoists you up, inviting your leg to hook around him from the slit of your dress. The proximity leaves little to imagination and heat sinks its tendrils deeper into you, tingling and desperate to have more. To have him.

“Hey! Take it elsewhere!”

The shout almost drowns in the euphoria of your tangled bodies, but Cal stirs only a little while you freeze. With all the time in the world, he kisses you deeply one last time.

You wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of the Lasat porter, who has to face the Imperial Inquisitor’s stare.

“We are leaving,” Cal manages to spit out. He takes your hand and drags you out of the nightclub. Somehow you’re not sad to see your evening cut short as you struggle to catch your breath.

Cal’s demeanour is as silent and hasty as your trip back to the Imperial shuttle. He doesn’t say a word, only gripping your hand in his so hard that twice you almost open your mouth to ask him to ease the vice a little.

//