(no subject)
Title: A Jedi Master In Panties
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Summary: Jedi tunics aren't that useful!
She was positively perplexed. She had worn everything from a ball gown to a leotard and made it look like she was born in it - like her body was made for it - but the ins and outs of Jedi garb completely eluded her.
There was a sash, no, wait - two sashes.
Did they both go around her waist? Did they go somewhere else? Were they for different things entirely? She bit her lip, frustration coming over her features.
Tionne had researched the costumes extensively from old datatapes of Jedi, and had fashioned the tunics, with the help of a few talented seamstresses, from the information she had gathered. There was no description of the clothing piece by piece, so Tionne had reverse engineered it based on holopics, figuring out how many under layers there were from the Jedi’s movements.
She had put a lot of work into making them look Old Republic-authentic, and Mara was grateful, she really was, but … if only she could put the damn things on right!
Mara threw the burgundy tunics onto her sleepcouch, allowing them to wrinkle in an unorganized bundle. She, clothed only in the skimpiest of undergarments, folded her bare arms across her chest. She stared at the pile harshly, willing it to directly threaten her, as ludicrous as that was, so she could chop it to bits with her lightsaber.
She smirked darkly, knowing that her soon-to-be husband wouldn’t be too pleased at the current direction of her thoughts. If anyone could get angry at an inanimate pile of clothes, it would be her.
Well, it was he who suggested this whole marriage thing, so it was all his fault anyway.
She felt his presence in her mind just then, as if her thoughts alone willed it. He was near, on the other side of her door. He was nervous, curious, slightly concerned.
“Come in, Skywalker,” she yelled, unlocking the door with the Force.
He strode in, fully dressed in his saffron robes, like some sort of Jedi demi-god. He stopped short, however, at the slight of his nearly naked fiancée. She had to let out a laugh as his cheeks became bright red.
“Ah, I think I’ll wait-”
“Cool it, farm boy,” she interrupted. “I don’t have anything you haven’t seen.”
His face was beginning to match the color of her tunics, but he nodded and closed the door, sneaking a peek at her through his lashes from his head’s downward tilt. She smiled at his gaze and moved her arms a little to give him a better view.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?” he asked, looking back up, into her eyes, as he tried to regain his composure. She pouted momentarily at his sudden gain of control, wanting the cute, shy, farm boy back.
“I don’t like these robes,” she informed him playfully. She walked to him and ran a lazy hand up his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck. “They’re too hard to get on.” She pulled him closer, until the only things between them were his layers of tunics and her lacey undergarments. She kissed his slightly open mouth before tracing a path along his jaw towards his ear. “Probably too hard to get off,” she whispered.
Her words were met with the desired result: he gasped roughly.
“Mara,” he managed to say hoarsely, “the ceremony.”
She held him tighter, unwilling to end the game just yet.
“I’ll go like this,” she said.
“Naked?” he asked, surprised. He pulled away from her grip, staring at her quizzically.
“I’m not naked,” she reminded him, tugging at her garment’s shoulder strap. She couldn’t help but smile.
Seeing her expression change, Luke clearly became aware of the joke.
“Naked in front of all your future students,” he chided. “Tsk tsk, Lady Jade, what will they think of you?” Her grin widened even as he was able to keep his face straight.
“They’ll think that I’m the best master in the history of the Jedi Order,” she responded, turning back to her sleepcouch and the red tunics. “And that their Head Master is a hopeless prude who doesn’t know how lucky he is to have me.”
“I know,” he grabbed her waist, pulling her to him, back first. He kissed her earlobe as she squirmed teasingly. “I know exactly how lucky I am.”
She couldn’t stop the giggle as his lips grazed her shoulder.
“Help me get dressed,” she said, knowing that their playtime was almost over. “Who would respect a naked Jedi, anyway?”
“I would,” he told her, breathing in the scent of her hair.
“Well, then, Skywalker,” she said with a devilish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Summary: Jedi tunics aren't that useful!
She was positively perplexed. She had worn everything from a ball gown to a leotard and made it look like she was born in it - like her body was made for it - but the ins and outs of Jedi garb completely eluded her.
There was a sash, no, wait - two sashes.
Did they both go around her waist? Did they go somewhere else? Were they for different things entirely? She bit her lip, frustration coming over her features.
Tionne had researched the costumes extensively from old datatapes of Jedi, and had fashioned the tunics, with the help of a few talented seamstresses, from the information she had gathered. There was no description of the clothing piece by piece, so Tionne had reverse engineered it based on holopics, figuring out how many under layers there were from the Jedi’s movements.
She had put a lot of work into making them look Old Republic-authentic, and Mara was grateful, she really was, but … if only she could put the damn things on right!
Mara threw the burgundy tunics onto her sleepcouch, allowing them to wrinkle in an unorganized bundle. She, clothed only in the skimpiest of undergarments, folded her bare arms across her chest. She stared at the pile harshly, willing it to directly threaten her, as ludicrous as that was, so she could chop it to bits with her lightsaber.
She smirked darkly, knowing that her soon-to-be husband wouldn’t be too pleased at the current direction of her thoughts. If anyone could get angry at an inanimate pile of clothes, it would be her.
Well, it was he who suggested this whole marriage thing, so it was all his fault anyway.
She felt his presence in her mind just then, as if her thoughts alone willed it. He was near, on the other side of her door. He was nervous, curious, slightly concerned.
“Come in, Skywalker,” she yelled, unlocking the door with the Force.
He strode in, fully dressed in his saffron robes, like some sort of Jedi demi-god. He stopped short, however, at the slight of his nearly naked fiancée. She had to let out a laugh as his cheeks became bright red.
“Ah, I think I’ll wait-”
“Cool it, farm boy,” she interrupted. “I don’t have anything you haven’t seen.”
His face was beginning to match the color of her tunics, but he nodded and closed the door, sneaking a peek at her through his lashes from his head’s downward tilt. She smiled at his gaze and moved her arms a little to give him a better view.
“Why aren’t you ready yet?” he asked, looking back up, into her eyes, as he tried to regain his composure. She pouted momentarily at his sudden gain of control, wanting the cute, shy, farm boy back.
“I don’t like these robes,” she informed him playfully. She walked to him and ran a lazy hand up his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck. “They’re too hard to get on.” She pulled him closer, until the only things between them were his layers of tunics and her lacey undergarments. She kissed his slightly open mouth before tracing a path along his jaw towards his ear. “Probably too hard to get off,” she whispered.
Her words were met with the desired result: he gasped roughly.
“Mara,” he managed to say hoarsely, “the ceremony.”
She held him tighter, unwilling to end the game just yet.
“I’ll go like this,” she said.
“Naked?” he asked, surprised. He pulled away from her grip, staring at her quizzically.
“I’m not naked,” she reminded him, tugging at her garment’s shoulder strap. She couldn’t help but smile.
Seeing her expression change, Luke clearly became aware of the joke.
“Naked in front of all your future students,” he chided. “Tsk tsk, Lady Jade, what will they think of you?” Her grin widened even as he was able to keep his face straight.
“They’ll think that I’m the best master in the history of the Jedi Order,” she responded, turning back to her sleepcouch and the red tunics. “And that their Head Master is a hopeless prude who doesn’t know how lucky he is to have me.”
“I know,” he grabbed her waist, pulling her to him, back first. He kissed her earlobe as she squirmed teasingly. “I know exactly how lucky I am.”
She couldn’t stop the giggle as his lips grazed her shoulder.
“Help me get dressed,” she said, knowing that their playtime was almost over. “Who would respect a naked Jedi, anyway?”
“I would,” he told her, breathing in the scent of her hair.
“Well, then, Skywalker,” she said with a devilish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”