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The feeling of pins and needles started at the base of her feet and creeped up the back of her ankles, numbness threatening to take over her whole body. The only warmth, the only life permeating the cold, empty dining hall, came from the feeling of Leida’s hand in hers. The muted murmur of music and voices just barely managed to breach the threshold from the ballroom.
Mon would have stayed there, would have stayed forever, atrophied and fossilized into the floor holding her daughter’s hand, if any of it had been up to her. But it wasn’t, not anymore. She had all but guaranteed it the moment she chose the rebellion and her role in it, over anything else across the galaxy. Including the rebellious creation from her own womb.
But all she wanted was this moment, where her child was still a child, and needed her mother.
Mon kept rubbing her thumbs over Leida’s knuckles, as Leida dried her tears with her free hand and took a deep, calming breath. And Mon realized even now, that she was thinking about herself.
“Leida, my darling…what do you need?” Mon hated not knowing, not being the mother who has the solution, the perfect words at her fingertips. Hated that she had allowed her child to become a near stranger to her. Instead she had to ask. Her child still with her round cheeks smattered with freckles and a stubborn twist of her mouth, as she rubbed the tears away after her soon to be husband rebuffed her. Both children, as she had been, as Perrin had been when these walls had last seen wedding ceremonies.
Leida met Mon's concerned gaze, and Mon watched with awe that quickly turned to quiet devastation as her daughter removed her hand from Mon’s and stood. She brushed the wrinkles and nonexistent dust from her dress, while Mon followed slowly. She straightened, the blood rushing back through her legs and feet, the burn of sensation coming back to her lower body.
Since Leida was born, she and Perrin had always been told their child either resembled Perrin most closely or a combination of the both of them. Standing here now, in the darkened halls of generations of Mothmas, Leida had never looked more like Mon. Her mask, newly impenetrable.
“I need to get back to the party. I shouldn't leave the guests waiting much longer.” The volume of the music seems to suddenly crash through and get louder. Selina, one of Leida's peer maids, comes across the threshold, seeing them in the center of the dining hall.
“I found her!” She called over her shoulder with excitement and the group of girls rushed in to huddle around Leida, effectively building a wall between the young girl and her mother. Mon thought it couldn't possibly be any taller than the one she'd been building without realizing it over the last decade.
Mon smiled tightly but evenly at the girls before they corral Leida back to the ballroom. Mon took a shaky breath, exhaling deeply and curled her hand briefly over her stuttering heartbeat. Her back to the arched entryway, she missed the brief flash of affection Leida sends her mother before leaving the room.
Mon turned after a moment and herself returned to hosting duties, reaching out to grip the stem of a full glass of bubbly bitters from a serving tray held by the catering staff. She spent another hour talking with guests, a frustrating combination of Perrin's Chandrillan friends, the soon to be extended family members within the Skulden family, and Senate colleagues who are using the event to rub elbows with possible campaign donors.
She felt the judgemental eyes of Luthen on her once again as Tay crossed her vision with a glass of something, an exaggerated laugh bursting from his chest as he held court with Senators from the Azura system. The expansive room began to feel stifling and cramped, beads of sweat collecting at Mon's lower back. She scanned the room, making sure there does not appear to be any immediate needs she should attend to, but it appears the army of service staff that were hired for the 3 day event are easily handling the party rhythm.
If she were a different person, Mon would've taken this as a signal to leave all together. Instead, she headed toward a quiet balcony off the back hallway. Far enough away for some fresh air and a moment without the congestion of so many voices, eyes, and expectations.
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If the smell was less likely to carry, Kleya would have nicked one of the ridiculously expensive cigarras that Davos Skulden gifted Luthen upon their arrival in Chandrilla with the priceless historical artifact that he would be handing over to two teenagers after their wedding ceremony. Kleya still could not believe they managed to track the statue down at all, let alone in time for the wedding.
Although there was a lot to be said for Davos’ deep pockets and black market contacts that even the famed Axis could not begin to procure. Her only sense of comfort, if she were actually invested in the significant fate of the religious monument, would come from the likelihood that it would not leave the Mothma estate and would be cared for by a team of staff well versed in the current matriarch's personal affinity for proper antiquity care.
Kleya leaned over the balcony she’s managed to wander off to, feigning a wide-eyed, slightly drunken excitement at the view of the lower courtyards, the expanse of the mountain formations at her back and the drop off of the wider quarry, including the landing platform. She slid her hands over the rounded marble railing at the deep side buttress, which partially hid her in shadow from anyone walking around below and fully from anyone who may push through the floor length, windows and sheer curtains leading back to the Mothma/Skulden festivities.
The landing platform did not have an accessible or well hidden area to hide the signal antenna or transmitter for her limited radio equipment. While Kleya rather tersely advised Luthen that sending a transmission was both nearly impossible and rather stupid, it was partially due to lack of a plan at the time for managing it, as well as her annoyance that she was being required to attend such an insipid event, especially during an active high risk mission. She did not like putting Cassian out in dead space with a stolen TIE fighter prototype and essentially no support for contingencies.
Finding what she hoped was an area exposed enough to capture a signal but still well hidden, Kleya shot a quick, thorough look over her shoulder to confirm she was still alone, then pulled a small antenna from the pocket under the bodice panel of her dress. She angled it away from the wall and blocked a section of the half turret, ensuring it stuck securely but not too solidly to remove with haste as needed.
The device is switched on and Kleya slipped the ear piece over her left ear. It takes a few moments, Kleya staring out onto the lit portico below but not seeing, simply waiting for the antenna to begin picking up the needed frequencies.
“Come on, come on.” She whispered to the ether, willing the connection into being. After what seems like hours but is truly mere minutes, the connection to the frequency she has Cassian transmitting through is completed but there is nothing. Kleya listened, so closely that she knew she would start hearing words where there are none if she continued.
Instead, she’ll need to send an encoded message, a pulse code. WIthout her full setup and so few other transmission signals to hide within, she would only be able to send a short request for any update in one burst to Cassian, to Porko on Yavin, and to Mina Rau. Just as she finished sending the message, the muffled cadence of heeled footsteps reached Kleya. She leaned over the railing without second guessing anyone observing her on the exterior and quickly yanked the small device from the bottom lip, clicking off the power and returning it, along with the ear piece, tucked away under her fitted top.
She managed to smooth the layers just as a figure stepped through the curtains, joining her on the balcony in a swirl of cream gauze and blue silk. Kleya stole into the shadows, unable to make her way through the opened windows without being seen by the familiar figure. It was hard to miss the tall, regal frame with her short, stylish copper waves.
Senator Mon Mothma still looked graceful and commanding, despite the two crystal glasses of spirits, one balanced in each hand. And the somber, pained expression that she allowed to take over her face, believing no one was around to see it.
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A black, star-spotted sky enveloped her vision as Mon took purposeful but quiet steps out onto the east balcony. She felt herself take a cleansing breath in the quiet space, the slight chill of the night slipping past her teeth and into her lungs in a manner that brought a shiver down her body but cleared the ghosts creeping around her thoughts.
The icy spirits from a glass in her hand quickly chased after, diverting to settle heat in her belly beside the other beverages she’d nursed over the course of the long day. Suddenly, a chill of another kind drew the hairs at the base of her neck up. Mon knew the feeling of being watched all too familiarly, however as it had become a rather usual occurrence, she simultaneously questioned her own growing discontent.
A deliberate, yet courteous throat clearing noise emanated from over her left shoulder and Mon turned on her heel towards the dull cough. Ambient light revealed the base of black booted heels and the hem of a deep blue skirt before a familiar silhouette exited the shadow.
“Kleya,” Mon’s flattened palm drew away from her chest with a sigh of relief.”You scared me. I am sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”
“My apologies, I did not mean to frighten you.” Kleya stepped further towards the bannister, keeping her polite distance from the Senator who clearly came outside to take a break from the carefully controlled chaos of the evening’s events. “I did not get a chance to enjoy the view of the estate earlier. Your family home is quite magnificent.
Mon tried not to scoff at Kleya’s well mannered words. “I know we do not know each other very well, but please do not feel as if you need to maintain quite that level of etiquette with me. Especially when it is just the two of us.” Mon looked out over the terrace, purposefully avoiding Kleya’s sharp, self-possessed gaze.
“Actually.” She reconsidered the truth of her and Kleya’s limited but cordial interactions over the last few years. This was their first time speaking without Luthen in the same room, despite Mon’s relatively frequent communications with Luthen sans Kleya. “I think that’s slightly incorrect. I do not know you very well but I have the distinct feeling that you know far more about me and my family than I might hope to be directly informed about.”
Mon’s gaze slid just in time to note a slight twitch of Kleya’s lips in what could have possibly been amusement before returning to a neutral expression.
“There is no such thing as just the two of us, alone.” Kleya reminded Mon, bringing the reality of their orbit back into focus. Mon took a sip of the second drink, considering her words.
“That is one of the reasons why this place is a source of so much warmth, despite so much cruelty.” Mon leaned her elbow on the flat marble of the bannister, and angled towards Kleya. “Chandrila has many outdated traditions as you are seeing in your limited time here. We’re also not a very technologically advanced people, despite what some of the imported services, and our security shield might indicate. So it is highly unlikely we are being overheard by anyone or anything that we cannot directly see.”
Kleya would never admit aloud how frustratingly correct Senator Mothma was. The sheer uselessness of most of the devices that she had access to at any one given moment; from the array available to purchase, steal, barter, or hand craft in Coruscant the moment they came into Chandrila’s atmosphere was legitimately staggering. And why Kleya wished to spend as little time as possible on this planet.
“That is not a significant source of relief for someone in my position, Senator.”
Mon tilted her chin curiously. “And what is that exactly? I’ve wondered this for a little while now because it certainly isn’t simply an assistant.The thought had crossed my mind that maybe Luthen was your father but…that doesn’t quite fit either.”
Kleya watched her carefully as she spoke, not quite smiling but a neutral, placid expression. Until Mon mentioned Luthen. Despite the expanse of the sky above them and the landscape of the deep cliff out from the Mothma property, the warmth and muffled gaiety of the evening’s events inside the estate, Mon felt the sudden shift in Kleya, as if the whole of space had frozen over.
Kleya walked the few steps separating herself from Mon, her coming to stand close enough in the dim light, to see that her intense, russet brown eyes had now blackened. They now bored directly into Mon’s in a manner that while not threatening, seemed to just barely veil something dangerous and unshakable.
Mon was familiar with similar responses. She had unknowingly hit a red line with Kleya or maybe she had known it was off limits but pushed it anyway, to learn more about the woman who could ruin her just as easily as she could ruin their entire operation.
“Senator,” Kleya’s voice was low but steady, “I understand that you are in an incredibly precarious circumstance and that you are handling the complex feelings that marrying off your young daughter to an oligarch may engender, especially due to the ways in which we have directly benefitted from this…arrangement.”But those feelings and your instinct to paper over them by digging around for information that you are in no way entitled to, needs to be directed elsewhere.”
Mon’s blood began simmering beneath her skin at Kleya’s words and the gall with which she spoke them. She could feel the immediate itch of impulsive anger run through her palms and she clenched the stem of the glass still in her hand tightly to refrain from lashing out. Even as Mon understood the truths present, she did not stop the acidic press of her response from clawing its way from her throat.
“So it is only you and Luthen who are allowed to be in command of information? To demand and trade in the extensive and intimate details of everyone’s lives?”
Mon came closer to Kleya, filling the majority of her vision with her presence, not quite towering over the other woman but their slight height difference and Mon’s moneyed elegance allowed for a visual power discrepancy. I am simply the cipher and purse strings, is that it? Regardless of the extent to which the tentacles of the rebellion are tightly wrapped around my home…my family?”
Mon caught the uncharacteristic flood of emotions between her teeth, her jaw tensing as she fought internally and then pushed it all back down with the last bit of squig in her glass. The bitter tang and slick feel of swallowing the small eel at the bottom of the drink acting as an antidote to Mon’s hushed but caustic outburst and self flagellation at the same time.
Kleya was now watching her with appraising eyes, widened with not a small amount of surprise and…was she impressed? The thought left Mon as soon as it entered her mind. There was no reason to believe that Kleya regarded her with any level of respect that wasn't a part of ruse, simply her mental state and ability to continue her role in all of this.
“I came out here to try and get a communication out regarding an…important acquisition that we are in the middle of through a third party buyer.” Kleya offered, cryptically still but Mon did understand it to be as close to an olive branch as would likely occur.
Suddenly Kleya looked down, the top of her head visible to Mon, its severe middle part with the two tight reverse coils, not a single hair out of place.
Paired with what Mon interpreted as a soldier’s uniform; the navy blue tunic and demure skirt, all stylish but with nothing that stood out or particularly identified Kleya as anything but a human in the world, a composed and well presented one.
Nothing was striking about Kleya’s appearance and that was what Mon understood now to be by design. She could be anything to anyone, both memorable and forgettable, especially in a brief encounter in the gallery or amongst the hundreds of guests at a rare, Chandrillan traditional wedding of one of its wealthiest, most storied families.
Mon had a sudden, sad thought, when Kleya lifted her head and turned it so that Mon watched her proud chin gesture back through the curtains to the festivities. “I also came out here, because I should be back at the gallery working on this acquisition, instead of playing nurse maid to a relic for 3 days, surrounded by a bunch of drunk and spoiled core world nobility”.
Kleya didn’t meet her gaze for a prolonged moment of silence but when she did, Mon noted the twist of Kleya’s lips and deep crease between her brows before Mon could not help but begin laughing. Her shoulders shaking and hand coming up to stifle the amused grin she knew was quickly taking over her face. “Goodness. I haven't been called spoiled-at least to my face- in quite a long time.”
And Kleya did another thing that Mon had never seen her do, certainly not in earnest. She laughed as well, a toothy smile accompanying the delightful sound that brightened her whole face in a manner that had Mon walking back her own internal consideration of Kleya’s discernable beauty.
“Well, I appreciate hearing your perspective on the matter, Kleya.” Mon responded, a teasing lilt apparent, the previous irritation and tension between them deflating into a new shared understanding. “I should be getting back to attending to our guests…coddled and elitist as we are, I have likely disappeared for a little too long.”
“Of course.” Kleya nodded, smirking at Mon’s self-deprecation but knowing she was correct and had indeed abandoned the evening for no more than 10 minutes but still longer than was polite.
Mon turned to look back over her shoulder at Kleya just before she returned, her crystal blue eyes overcast and shadowed but unwavering. “Do try to enjoy yourself, Kleya. There are so very few opportunities in these moments to do so…we have to remind ourselves what we’re fighting for in the little ways too.”
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The persistent crackling and buzzing of atmospheric interference and empty space filled Kleya’s ears deep into the night from the confines of her guest quarters on the Mothma Estate. She hadn’t checked a chrono since leaving the party but assumed from the throbbing behind her eyes, it was only hours from the new morning and sunrise.
Nothing of merit had come through the frequencies. Frustrated and tired, Kleya pulled the portable sound transmitter from her ear and placed the small handbuilt module hidden back within the heavy wooden wardrobe, pushed behind carefully folded clothing brought not too wear but to conceal the device as it continued monitoring for any word from Cassian or Porko on the jungle moon of Yavin.
Kleya stood, turning to the center of the small but comfortable guest room. A large circular rug covered the majority of the marble floor. An overhead fixture looked similar to that throughout the estate, with tiered glass panes and fresh Jebwa vines spilling over, cradling aura blossoms emanating their signature blue, cottony light.
Her level gaze took in the trio of lancet windows that took up the far wall opposite the door. Floor to ceiling gauzy cream curtains blocked a clear view outside onto the stone courtyard. She pulled the curtain away from the middle window and took in the night view, dark and silent now that the festivities had ceased for the night.
Contrary to their earlier tete a tete, Senator Mothma had been incorrect in assuming that Kleya was not genuinely interested or taken with the property. She just wasn’t able to engage in her historical and architectural fascination at that moment. It was far too indulgent of her to entertain but standing here, Kleya allowed the pads of her fingers, then the palm of her hand to run along the cool, patterned walls.
Most people thought they were grey marble but in truth they were black and white swirled so intricately that it tricked the eye. The home had stood for generations, carved out of rock and rebuilt over the centuries with gifted Alderaanian rainbow wood and limestone from the very mountains shadowing the property at its base.
Just as she was about to turn away and ready herself to attempt to sleep, a sound from the outside corridor drew her attention and she immediately froze.
Footsteps; muffled but distinguishable as they stopped right outside her door. Kleya had chosen this room because it was on the end of the passageway, closest to a less commonly used staff entrance, leading to the landing dock. It allowed her to have clearer frequency access as well as a view of those coming and going from the estate. It also left her more vulnerable if someone wished to do her harm and fewer others be able to notice, not that there was a reason for any of the wedding guests to do so.
Kleya moved quickly to retrieve the small blaster she had tucked under the mattress of her bed before quietly crouching over to the wall side of the door. There was no viewer to see who was on the outside but it did not seem as if they had left yet. The only sound was the echo of her own even but tense breathing for long seconds, before the reticent rap of knuckles thudded against the wood.
A thought occurred to Kleya, it seemed unlikely but also…it certainly wouldn’t be Luthen skulking around.
Keeping the weapon tucked in one hand at her lower back, Kleya used the other hand to unlock the brass doorknob and turned it slowly, then all at once. The person startled clearly, despite only being lit in shadows and the low, warm light of sconces lining the corridor.
Kleya went from her entire body taut in anticipation of things going sideways very quickly, to an immediate shift upon seeing Mon Mothma standing apprehensively in the doorway. She appeared taken aback that Kleya had in fact answered the door at this hour.
Mon's surprise increased ten fold, a low yelp breaching her lips as Kleya yanked the woman forcefully by her bare upper arm inside the room, closing the door with a careful push of Mon’s body up against the back of it. She tucked the weapon into the back of her trousers and didn’t bother hiding her sheer annoyance and confusion at the Senator’s presence. To ensure Mon hadn’t been followed and didn’t make any further noise, Kleya moved the hand at her arm to clamp over her mouth, telling her to be quiet with a hiss of a whisper as she waited and listened.
The front of their bodies pressed together and Kleya tried to filter out the warmth of Mon’s breath puffing from her nose against the back of Kleya’s hand, or the tandem rise and fall of her chest as Mon tried to slow the anxiety that had rushed through her as she was hauled inside unceremoniously.
Kleya couldn’t hear anything that would indicate someone else was trailing the Senator or otherwise moving around in the passageway. Once she was sure they were alone, Kleya pulled back from the door and met Mon’s no longer startled but affronted gaze. Her own stare, hardened at the audacity of the older woman to be anything other than embarrassed by her behavior.
Mon pushed Kleya’s hand away after she lessened its grip. “Was that strictly necessary?”
Kleya stood back only slightly, staying in Mon’s space pointedly.”In what galaxy is it not necessary, when you are at the guest quarters reserved for staff of Davos Skulden,in the middle of the night?”
The lines around her mouth tightened momentarily as she seemed to be about to retort. Then Mon frowned, her expression seemingly confused as she was silent and had some internal dialogue that Kleya couldn’t decipher. Kleya began to worry about that, taking the punctuated silence to draw her gaze over the woman for something wrong.
She was still in her formal wear, the two toned blue dress wrapping satin and silk from the back around her slender, elegant figure. Mon’s short, wavy copper hair seemed to have loosened from its earlier, more controlled state to wisp around her ears and a few strands slipped down to hang almost in her face.
She was no longer wearing the sleek, tall heels that allowed her to tower over many, including Kleya, despite them not having a significant height difference otherwise. They had been traded for flat, stylish slippers which nearly matched the color of the long draped fabric that hung from each of her shoulders like wings.
There didn’t appear to be any injuries from some unknown attack or fall to contend with which only further confused Kleya as to why she was here. After what had likely only been several prolonged seconds, Mon lifted her head and once again met Kleya’s watchful gaze, with her own.
Before Kleya could inquire any further, Mon surged forward unexpectedly, cradling both sides of Kleya’s face and bringing their lips together in a frenzied kiss. Mon drew the breath right from the younger woman’s lungs, tasting the remnants of bitter alcohol she’d imbibed earlier in the evening, mixed with something new and enticing.
Just as suddenly as it began, Kleya pulled away, startled and temporarily speechless. Mon’s expression shifted from shocked, to horrified before she turned and reached to steady herself on the back of a wooden chair tucked under a small desk by the door. “I am so sorry, Kleya. I just…I…that was foolish and absolutely unacceptable.”
“Are you inebriated, Senator?” Kleya asked, her voice tight and slightly disoriented.
“No.” Mon responded sharply before backtracking and softening her tone. “No, I only had a few drinks earlier in the evening. I am,” she stuttered, trying to draw her scattered thoughts together. “I am…adjusting poorly to the series of events but I am hardly intoxicated.”
Kleya believed her but now knew that there was a lot more that was not being said. Mon held so much just under the surface on any normal day, she also held things deeper and darker inside herself than she would likely ever admit to anyone, let alone Kleya. But it’s as inherent to her as a second skin and one of many tools that they are able to use and weaponize for the rebellion.
Mon Mothma is far too important to the plan, to the future of the rebellion, and right now she is a ticking time bomb, hurtling towards explosion. Not the kind that bursts outwards, shrapnel and mess, little bits of blood and bone wedged in unseen places. No, she’s the kind that collapses inward, the pressure suddenly and violently buckling from the inside, out.
She needs to figure out how to stop the gravitational force threatening to implode the woman before her. Kleya crowds into Mon’s vision once again in two sure strides. Mon shifts like a scared animal about to bolt but holds her feet steady. Kleya hovered inches away, waiting until the silence stretched and Mon could bring herself to look at her once again.
Her gaze flicked over Kleya’s form, seeming to just take in her full appearance, her chestnut hair brought down from its earlier, typical style, to a neat, low bun. She was in what appeared to be her bedclothes, a large knitted sweater, the sleeves drooping to her thumbs and loose pants that stopped just below her knees. Kleya reached up and with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, brought Mon’s chin upward until their eyes were level.
Kleya had no idea what she was thinking but Mon was able to hold her stare, whether as a challenge or to prove she was indeed sober. But the quiver in her bottom lip gave it all away. With no further hesitation, Kleya tilted her own head to swiftly cover Mon’s mouth with hers, feeling the hitch in her throat at the returned kiss.
Her hands slipped from cupping Mon’s face, to the sides of her neck, as Kleya felt a hesitant pressure come to rest on each side of her waist. Kleya deepened the kiss, allowing their noses to bump and lips to press more firmly, the air around them simmering unexpectedly.
After a lingering moment, something seemed to distract Mon enough that she was the one retracting from Kleya, a sudden ache stirring in her chest. Kleya stood stoically, self-possessed and unconflicted.
“That’s not…that’s not why I came to you.”
“Isn’t it?” Kleya posed it as a question but understood it to be true regardless. Mon needed a release, needed to be able to transfer this destructive energy built up as a self punishment over the course of the last year, ever since she introduced her daughter to Davos’ son. She could have gone to Perrin, but she didn’t. Kleya knew enough to know no one, man, woman, or otherwise had warmed her bed but her husband and even that had not occurred in years.
Maybe it would send too many alarm bells up for Perrin if she were to seek him out, maybe they were in a period of discontent again as a result of their daughter's betrothal, which neither truly wanted but would not deny their daughter. And despite the rumors of affairs that had been both manufactured purposefully and those that had not, Mon maintained a near monk-like abstinence that seemed to be catching up with her at the most inopportune moment.
She could’ve also gone to that foolish, pathetic friend of hers, Kolma. Clearly there had been a time when the interest was real from his side, even if platonic affection was as far as Mon could or would return it. But the Senator had known that would have been far too extreme of a risk and Kleya would never let Mon leave to seek him out if she could stop it herself.
Elementary spycraft, you don’t do or say anything that can be easily leveraged against you with no way to sidestep the consequences. Mon already knew she had made her first mistake with how reckless and ignorant she had been around the spending of her family fortune. Now it was more than apparent Tay’s involvement would continue to spiral as the man himself did, as much as Mon didn’t wish to admit that miscalculation.
But Kleya wasn’t a risk to the rebellion and there would be nothing to leverage a night together against, and while it was not approved in Chandrilan culture, human women sharing a bed was hardly cause for scandal on Coruscant or most planets.
Although it being Senator Mothma would draw gossip and sneers for a period, that was only if it were to ever be discovered. Maybe it’s not what Mon consciously understood she was searching for when she snuck down to Kleya’s room but it certainly was now, and her body had realized it as she’d been wedged between the younger woman and the wooden door.
“I’m willing, if that is what you’re worried about. And we both know I would be discreet.” Kleya watched Mon closely as she now appeared to be warring with herself. Her discomfort showed in the way her typically quiet but commanding presence seemed to radiate in dense ripples out from her body, casting glances around the room without landing on any one item in particular any longer than a second.
“Have you…been with women?” Mon managed to get the question out with a curious but even tone, far less eager than she might have felt.
“Is that important to know?” Kleya volleyed back, curiously.
“I guess not.” Mon answered, beginning to pace slightly, a habit she fell into when considering her next move in a particularly vexing problem, drawing the maze or puzzle out in her mind to find the best combination from start to finish. “Do you want to know if I have…”
“You haven't.” Kleya interrupted, not a sliver of doubt in her tone, which drew a perturbed glare, even as Mon continued her cyclical path.
“How could you possibly…” Her cheeks flared along with her temper. She had not dared to share the passing attraction she felt for certain women across the years with Vel, even as her younger cousin had confided in her as she’d grown up and actually began being romantically involved, including with the woman she met and fell in love with on Aldhani.
“You haven't. We vetted you thoroughly. As well as your cousin. You knew this when you were read in, don’t get self-righteously modest, all of a sudden. It is unbecoming on you.”
Mon scoffed at Kleya’s imperious tone, while Kleya continued to watch her closely. Mon found she was frustrated that it did not ebb her consideration of the younger woman’s offer in the slightest.
“I would like an answer to my first question. It is in fact important to know. You know my answer, it is only fair to know yours. To be on equal footing in that way.”
Kleya did not shy away, answering with a nonchalant air like she was noting the weather. “I have. I do not find men to be useful to me in that manner.”
But she did not offer this information lightly, even Luthen allowed her her own secrets. Or rather pointedly never asked when she disappeared into the night every so often, and those were only the time she allowed him to know about.
She had come to admire and respect Senator Mothma over the years, especially this last one. Navigating increasingly complex political machinations and doing so with a poise and sincerity that did not go unnoticed. She had thought Luthen mad after he’d concluded Mothma was the one they’d been looking for. The one who could and would carry the weight of the rebellion into the light when it was time.
Trying for reassurance and to quell the impatience she could feel creeping into her spine waiting for Mon to make her decision either way, Kleya placed herself as an obstacle in Mon’s now worn path and reached down, taking Mon’s hands firmly in her own.
Finally Mon’s unsettled gaze held onto the sight of Kleya’s thumbs running gently over knuckles. It felt foreign to them both, neither of whom engaged in casual displays of physical affection with any manner of regularity.
“Senator, you are not trapped here. If you wish to leave, you can return to your quarters and this will all be forgotten.” Kleya was not sure if it was her words or something else that shifted Mon into her following actions but the next thing she knew, Mon’s hands tightened around her own and pulled Kleya flush against her silk and satin wrapped form.
Mon leaned in to capture Kleya’s lips once again but instead, Kleya ducked her head, latching on to the warm, pale skin of her neck, pulling her hands from where they were held in the minimal space between their bodies, to wander down the tight fabric covering Mon’s ribs, then anchoring on curved hips.
A decidedly affected whimper echoed in Kleya’s ear as she trailed hot, exploratory kisses along the straining tendon reaching down to Mon’s collarbone. Her pulse grew frantic and aching under Kleya’s confident, steady touch. Kleya used the grip at Mon’s hips to guide them a few steps backwards to the bed, turning Mon to place her between her own body and the foot of it.
Just as she brought her hands to Mon’s shoulders, prepared to press her down onto the bed mat, a breathy whisper emanated from the older woman.”No…no marks.”
Kleya abruptly disconnected her lips from the delicate space where Mon’s neck met her shoulder and waited for Mon to open her eyes. She attempted to not get distracted by the flush of desire that had begun spreading along Mon’s chest and flooding her cheeks, or the way her pale turquoise irises were now darkened to a deep, stormy blue, the black of her pupils blown wide.
“Senator, I believe you will find that I am more than amenable to your thoughts on how you prefer to be fucked.” Kleya took much satisfaction out of the way Mon’s eyes widened even further at her crass words, jaw hinging down to allow her full bottom lip to hang slightly stunned. “But as it pertains to prudent actions in order to maintain secrecy, it is wholly unnecessary to provide me any instruction at all.
Mon’s stare glinted with a flicker of annoyance, unused to taking orders or direction unchallenged but the heat building under her skin and the anticipation that surged at Kleya’s clear intentions managed to consume her impulse to argue, nodding instead.
“I’d prefer you call me Mon, in that case.”
*************
Mon had not been intimate with anyone in a long time. She knew there had been rumors, and had purposefully allowed the Senatorial gossip mill to create false happenings between herself and her Senate colleagues, both Lud Marroi of Cerberon System and even Bail Organa when it served a useful purpose. Perrin had been fully informed of that misdirection and while hardly enthusiastic had been able to retrieve his ego well enough to carry on after the rumors were no longer needed and quelled, long forgotten.
She had never gone through with any charade that required proof in the form of true, physical intimacy and she’d been able to convert those increasingly long stretches without her sexual needs being met, into many other ways in which she found satisfaction. As inconceivable as it may have ever seemed to others, were they to be aware and no one but her cousin Vel was, it worked for Mon for a very long time.
Until now. Until the balance had suddenly tipped and every cell in her body was alight with a need to be touched, to be drowned in someone else’s body, to feel simultaneously exhausted and invigorated, to push any and every thought from her mind and shrink the world to a singular point of pleasure. She knew it was selfish, knew it betrayed parts of herself and her relationship to Perrin that against all odds had remained intact but the moment Kleya had kissed her back, she knew she would allow it to happen and that she would do so enthusiastically.
Mon allowed herself to be sat down at the end of the bed mat, her hands steadying herself on each side, feeling the soft, slightly scratchy blanket between her fingers as Kleya stepped back from her and wrapped her arms around herself to pull her top overhead and away from her body.
Her upper body now mostly exposed, Kleya watched intensely as Mon traced the newly exposed skin from her toned, flat stomach, to her surprisingly athletic arms and shoulders that mirrored some of the most talented smashball players, to the black garment covering the soft swells of her breasts, thin straps disappearing over pale, almost silvery expanses of skin.
Mon’s breath laboured tensely, as Kleya continued to undress in front of her, with seemingly no discontent or concern for her growing nakedness. Not that Mon thought she had anything remotely to be self critical about. She worked on restraining the insecurities about her own age and body that commonly repeated in her own mind, instead focusing on Kleya’s hands as they reached for the sides of her shorts and pushed them down trim legs that flexed beneath the shadowed light and showed more refined muscle underneath.
Only in tight black modesty briefs and chest cover, Kleya continued to transform, coming to stand directly in front of Mon once again and offer her hand to draw her back off the bed to her full height. She drew Mon’s hand up and helped her turn around so that her back was towards Kleya and shortly after that, Mon felt cool, steady hands begin unclasping the tight confines of her dress.
Goose flesh broke out along her spine and arms as Kleya’s knuckles brushed down and exposed both more skin and more of Mon’s own undergarments. Mon found her heart beat quickening, feeling the rapid thuds at the base of her throat as Kleya drew the full, shimmering weight of the dress down Mon’s endless legs and carefully out from under her feet, to settle carefully over the back of the chair.
Although not fully exposed yet, Mon felt Kleya’s warmth recede noticeably for the few seconds it took to ensure the expensive material was laid out. Upon her return, Mon moved her hands to assist in removing the overly complicated but trend-forward undergarments she had worn with the assistance of her dressing droid. They had felt tight and restrictive all day and evening but now felt even moreso, delaying what she was both anticipating with every bone in her body and objectively terrified of.
The strapless blue chest band matched the color of her dress and was easy enough to unlatch and remove, Kleya taking the lead to brush her fingers gently over the indented, agitated skin in the middle of her lower back, “Expensive torture devices.” She murmured, drawing an unexpected chuckle from Mon in response.
Once Mon was freed from the corset-like dress band that cinched her from ribs to thighs, the slow, intimate dance was also shed, as they stood, Kleya taking in Mon’s fully exposed curves that are drawing unexpected coils of desire deep in her belly. “You are magnificent, Sen…Mon.”
Before Mon had the opportunity to argue or self-deprecate otherwise, Kleya drew her flush, both women exchanging a heady moan at the contact. With surprising agility and strength, Kleya tipped Mon backwards with her arm low around her waist and put them horizontal on the bed, Mon’s hair spreading like low flames across the pillow and their legs slotted together loosely.
Mon held on to Kleya’s shoulders at the sudden movement and then returned to the sides of her face as Kleya’s mouth found purchase, sucking Mon’s lower lip between her teeth. Kleya’s hands traveled with purpose, trailing down the valley between ample, soft breasts, just barely grazing the lower curves of them as she brushed her palms and lightly scraped her blunt nails over Mon’s stomach that twitched, quivering at the touch.
But Mon wanted to be taken, wanted to be devoured and Kleya understood she needed to turn up the intensity even further. She felt the woman sigh into her mouth, feeling her body begin to turn pliant and hungry as she begins to relax into what they have only just begun. She is all slender softness and inviting flesh, even as she is simultaneously coiled like a tension spring that has yet to fully yield to a pulling force.
Then Kleya is moving again, pulling her body up to straddle Mon’s hips, reveling at the near pout that settles on her face before Kleya brought Mon up with her, slipping her left hand between the silky strands of her hair to crush their lips back together. Mon seemed to come alive at the feel of Kleya’s grip at the base of her scalp and the heat now pressed deliciously against her own center.
The woman shuddered and parted Kleya’s lips to sweep her tongue inside, tasting her thoroughly and swallowing a gasp of arousal from Kleya that even she did not expect. Kleya’s hips begin to rock in a slow, grinding rhythm, as her hand that is not holding steady, tangled in Mon’s tresses, begins once again mapping the length of Mon’s stunning figure, caressing every inch of skin she can touch from her spot perched in the woman’s lap. Noticeably avoiding the swells of her breasts, much to Mon’s audible frustrations when for the second time in mere minutes, Kleya swept her hands around the visibly hardened peaks.
“Please, Kleya.” Mon barely managed to keep the pleading at bay, she was being driven to madness and Kleya had not even put her mouth anywhere below her collarbones. She’s pinned down by the weight of the woman above her and needs so much more.
“Tell me what you want.” Kleya’s sultry voice in her ear, lips just brushing the shell of sensitive skin sends a frisson of heat straight to her core. Mon looked down at their bodies, melded partially together and became absolutely livid at the fabric still hiding Kleya’s full form from her.
“This has got to go.” She reached to both sides of Kleya’s torso, running deliberate fingers under the tight band of her chest cover and pulling it off, over her head and tossing it into the distance.
“These, off.” She commanded, flicking the fabric clinging tightly to Kleya’s upper thighs and the slight curve of her hips.Kleya’s curtain of silky hair blocks Mon’s view as she lifts herself up to remove the undergarment, finally bare. She crawls back up Mon’s body and settles so that they are skin to skin, pressed firmly together.
A deep moan pushes past Mon’s lips as her sensitive breasts feel the pressure of Kleya’s but it’s not enough. Once again their legs slot together and Kleya’s lips are on Mon’s neck, teeth nipping along the way and her tongue following right after, drawing the ache in a slowly descending path.
This time Kleya doesn’t prolong the torture, experimentally flicking Mon’s tight nipple with her thumb before drawing the enticing flesh into her mouth, latching on with an intensity that has Mon crying out into the pillow, one hand holding the clutching it to muffle the noise, the other clinging to Kleya’s head, urging her to continue.
Kleya’s tongue dances over the taut peak and she closes her eyes, giving herself over to the intoxicating feeling of drawing this kind of pleasure from the woman beneath her. Her hands drift from where they’d braced herself against the bed to shift her weight to one side, so that she’s able to attend to the other breast. When her palm cups around it, Mon moans her name and for a second, Kleya can barely believe this is real.
She gently massaged the soft globe, tugging the nipple gently, and mirroring the movement with her mouth on the other, Mon’s hips are bucking uncontrollably beneath her and knowing they don’t have much more time, Kleya regrettably pulls her mouth away, leaving one lingering kiss on the breast beneath her hand before coming back up, lips ghosting over Mon’s chin.
Her hands trail fire down the sides of Mon’s jutting hip bones and then down the length of her thighs. Kleya grips the supple flesh and Mon jolts slightly as she wraps Mons thighs around her waist, directing her ankles to lock at Kleya’s lower back. It takes a moment through the haze of sensation to see how this opens Mon up to Kleya’s view and she knows her sex is absolutely slick with want. Mon’s chest heaves with anticipation as Kleya’s fingers slip through the thatch of hair at her center before meeting a wet heat that has her heart hammering in her ears and bows Mon’s back in both relief and a fiery want that nearly brings tears to her eyes.
Sensing the sudden overwhelm, Kleya covers Mon’s body with her own once again, supporting the back of her neck with her free hand and softly, gently circling her fingers around her clit. She starts slowly, building up pressure and noting every hitch and shudder that ebbs and flows at her touch.
Mon does her own exploring, sliding her hands over shoulders, clutching at the rippling skin and muscle at Kleya’s back as she rocks into the skilled hand that is getting her closer and closer to the edge. Mon runs her hands up Kleya’s sides and is finally able to feel the soft swells of flesh swaying between them. The hiss that slips from between Kleya’s teeth as Mon clutches and massages them in tandem with the fire being stoked between her thighs, nearly sends Mon careening towards climax.
But Kleya slips her arm firmly around Mon’s back, which blocks her access and she cannot do much more than hold on for dear life when Kleya slides two fingers inside her with such torturous precision that Mon’s cry becomes caught in her throat. She gasped for breath and clinged to her desperately, as Kleya chased the movement of her fingers with her hips, finding a pressure and cadence that blurs Mon’s vision and it takes all she has to remember to breathe.
Mon’s body meets every thrust and Kleya drives the pace to the pitch of her moans, as they increase in frequency and desperation. Every nerve in her body is tuned to drawing every ounce of pleasure she can manage from Mon and she doesn’t dwell on that feeling and what it could mean beyond the focus here and now.
Kleya’s fingers curl deeply inside Mon, as her moans turn to whimpers and her hips start to rock harder and faster, chasing the thundering release that she knows is nearing its crest.
“Kleya.” The desperation spills through every syllable and Kleya holds her tightly, shifting her thumb just barely and pressed on the small, soaked bundle of nerves.
“Come for me, Mon.” The response is immediate and Mon shudders before every cell and atom in her body went rigid, then shattered with pure ecstasy. She comes undone and Kleya just barely managed to hold her steady as pleasure rocked its way through her system until she was limp and spent in Kleya’s arms.
Colors exploded behind Mon’s eyelids before going dark and she curled around Kleya as aftershocks trembled through her for long moments after she came down from her high. Kleya’s fingers slip gently from her core and Mon can now hear the heavy breaths she is taking, the exertion clear but the small smile stretching mischievously across her face pulling a bright, genuine giggle from Mon.
“Galaxies, I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Mon threw her arm lazily over her eyes and realized there was a slight hoarseness to her voice that amused her even further.
But Kleya’s lack of retort had her quickly removing it and opening her eyes to find the woman watching her with open admiration and sadness. Suddenly, Mon realized where they were, who they were and all of the reasons why this was a singular moment, one that they likely would never repeat, nor talk about.
Mon reached up and gently pulled Kleya down to lay beside her. Kleya reached down to pull the throw that had been nearly kicked off the end of the bed over the both of them and tucked her head into the crook of Mon’s neck, not bothering to hide as she inhaled her scent, and the distinct mix of them that was both sweet and musky, warm and fresh. Mon opened her mouth to convince Kleya to allow her to gift her the pleasure that she had been given, then closed it wordlessly.
As if reading her mind, Mon felt Kleya’s head shake, breath soft against the cleft of her chin. “No, Mon, this was for you.” She was glad Kleya couldn't see the tear escape into her pillow. Mon hated herself for being so happy to have someone all to herself, even just for a night.