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He wasn't supposed to see her for another three days. She was supposed to be with the Jedi on some manoeuvres that would take her off-planet for at least that long.
Apparently, those manoeuvres have ended early, though, because she's sitting at his desk, her legs propped up and crossed at the ankles. She's wearing nothing but some heels, a lop-sided smile, and some black and green lacy number that ought to be illegal on at least every civilized world in the Galactic Empire's jurisdiction.
“What if my assistant had come in here?”
She shakes her head, still ginning.
“That's your first question, flyboy?” She puts her legs down and sits upright in the chair. He doesn't think that he'll ever be able to sit in that chair again without thinking about this. That's gonna make some meetings...awkward.
“It's all the basic I can remember at the moment, yes.” He manages to keep his voice pretty even which, all things considered, earns him some sort of commendation, really.
“Heh. Well, mission accomplished, then.” She stands and crosses to the sofa, where she bends to pick up her cloak as though she's going to leave.
He realizes, in that moment, that she must have come over here wearing nothing but that lingerie and her cloak, and its only his intense military training that keeps his knees from buckling.
He crosses the room, instead, grabbing her wrist to halt her movements. She rakes her eyes up his body as she straightens. She raises an eyebrow at his obvious erection, but says nothing.
“I wouldn't say that, Jedi Solo.” He raises one of his eyebrows in response. “I'd say mission only half-accomplished, really.”
“You're so freakin' pedantic, Fel.” She rolls her eyes with mock-disgust. “Look, I got all trussed up. I came all the way over here-- three days early, might I add-- and arranged the sexy little surprise. I can't be expected to do everything--”
He cuts her off with a kiss, and doesn't stop until he's got her lying backwards on the couch beneath him. When he pulls back, she smiles and shifts so that he can slide one leg in between both of hers.
“Now, that's more like it.”
“I thought so, too.” He drops his face to nuzzle at her neck, planting sucking kisses along the exposed skin. She moans and shifts.
“Can we move this along?”
“Why?” Jag doesn't pull all the way back, just enough to speak, and she shivers from the feeling of his breath against her skin. “You have somewhere to be?”
“Not really.” She shrugs as much as their current position will allow. “It's just that I've been planning this since I got back on-planet early, and I'd like to finish.”
“Ah. Well, in that case.” Jag sits up enough to unbutton his uniform shirt, but she stops him from taking it off. She does that sometimes. The girl has a serious uniform fetish sometimes. Jag can't help but think it odd that it extends to this particular uniform, but he's not one to complain while she's shimmying out of her miniscule panties and then reaching up to unhook his belt buckle.
He's inside of her so fast that she barely has time to react to the sensation before he starts to move. She's panting in his ear while she struggles to get her breathing under control, and it spurs him on in ways that nothing else ever has. Everything about her does.
She wraps a leg around him, using it to pull him deeper, and the shift in angle pulls a groan from him that would have embarrassed him before he met Jaina. He slides a hand down her abdomen to where they're joined, working her with fingers calloused from years of mechanical labour. She wanted fast, and he's determined to give her just that.
They finish close enough together that it's hard to tell who initiates it. Not that it matters, since it immediately triggers the other.
They just lie there for a few minutes, breathing heavily, before Jaina pushes on him slightly and he takes it as his clue to move to her side, so that she can breathe a little easier.
He trails a finger over the skin of her stomach and she chuckles lightly at the ticklish sensation that it causes on over-sensitized skin.
“Now, Jedi Solo, you haven't answered my question.”
“Which was...” Jaina sighs, bringing her hand up to smooth her matted hair back down.
“What if my assistant had come in here?”
“I'm a Jedi, love.” Jaina shrugs. “People only see what I want them to see.”
“So, she saw everything?”
“Oh yeah.” Jaina nods. “She rolled her eyes and muttered something about leaving early. She said if you minded that you could call her back, but I had better be gone if that happens.”
Jag sighs heavily. That's going to be one hell of a conversation.
“You're absurd. You do know that, right?”
“Technically, you're just as guilty as I am, Head-of-State.” Jaina shrugs again. “At this point, you're literally up to your hips in it, in fact. I don't think you really have any room to talk.”
“See, that's the problem with you Jedi.”
“What is?”
“You're so bloody pedantic.”
She pulls his face to hers for a kiss and neither of them says anything further for a very long time.