Work Text:
They’d spent most of their shore leave in art galleries, and the rest of it undercover, stuffed into ill-fitting stormtrooper armor so they could chase down a rogue platoon. On their last night in Star City, Belissa, Eli wanted nothing more than a shower and a bacta rub.
But then they walked past the famous Exotica Club, and Eli decided he wanted an ice-cold Belissa Sunrise and a lap-dance even more.
“Come on,” he said shortly, tugging Thrawn off the pathway.
Thrawn resisted – just for a moment – but the pull of the gravlock steps dragged him down. The walkway zipped by overhead as Eli pushed into the Exotica Club, waving his code cylinders at the scanner. Thrawn hesitated behind him, unfamiliar with the entry system, and swiped his cylinders with a distinct air of exasperation.
“What is this place?” he asked Eli, his voice clipped.
“It’s fun,” Eli said. He pushed through the crowd, mostly Imps and planet-side security officers, all of them off-duty and cradling drinks. At the bar, Eli ordered an electric blue Sunrise, the clink of ice soothing something deep in his soul.
“Are they slaves?” asked Thrawn dispassionately, eyeing the stage.
Eli took an experimental sip of his drink. Too sugary, and far too alcoholic, he pressed it into Thrawn’s hand. “Probably,” he said, regarding the dancers. “But they don’t call them that. It’s an immigration policy.”
Thrawn accepted the drink with one eyebrow raised.
“They want entry to the Core Worlds,” Eli explained, “but there’s a quota of non-humans, and if they don’t have any marketable skills, then this is a good way to meet the rich and powerful, earn yourself some favors…”
“In short, this is where I would be, had I not impressed the Emperor,” said Thrawn with a strange, sharp smile.
Eli shrugged. “I’m gonna order something else,” he said, beckoning the bartender over. “Go grab us some seats.”
Thrawn wandered off, coolly ignoring the coos and caresses from guests who assumed he was a dancer, and Eli caught himself staring. The bodies pressing close, the hands on Thrawn’s elbow, his lower back, the lips that caught against his neck as he commandeered two seats… The bartender handed Eli a new drink, more palatable, and he blended anonymously into the crowd. No one looked twice at him until he slid into the empty seat at Thrawn’s side.
Thrawn had found a spot close to the stage. His long frame was folded into the armchair, slouching back, blue lips parted over the rim of his glass. With his eyes hooded, the red glow dashed down his cheeks and the long line of his nose, bathing the hollows beneath his cheekbones in shadows. He raised an eyebrow at Eli, but mostly he kept his gaze focused on the Twi’lek dancer onstage: smooth green skin, bare chest, oiled muscles, it had the body of a man and the distinctive headtails of a woman, and Eli couldn’t help but wonder if it had been biologically engineered to look this way. Half the room was uninterested, but the other half was staring greedily, eager to find out what they would see when the Twi’lek squirmed out of its panties.
Eli glanced sideways at Thrawn. He was a little surprised Thrawn had even agreed to come here – albeit a silent, long-suffering agreement, but still. Could it be he was actually interested? Those luminous red eyes were fixed on the Twi’lek, slowly scanning up its body … and in five years of service together, Eli had never known Thrawn to hook up with anybody, ship-board or planet-side. He’d assumed Thrawn just wasn’t interested. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in humans .
“Hey,” said Eli in a low voice, just as Thrawn took a slow appreciative sip of Sunrise. “You know they’ll go upstairs with you if you ask?”
“I’m not asking, Ensign,” said Thrawn dryly, with just the barest hint of amusement.
But his eyes were still glued to the Twi’lek’s abs, even if they were hooded and faux-bored. Onstage, the Twi’lek rolled his hips in a slow, sinuous motion, his thumbs sliding into the waistband of the lace panties he wore to cover the smooth area between his legs. As the panties slid down over his muscled thighs, Thrawn sat back in his seat, eyes cold, but cheeks flushed.
He really liked this, Eli realized. Maybe not just the dancing. Maybe it was sitting here in an Imperial uniform, untouchable, letting these other less-fortunate aliens dance for him. Maybe it was the too-close knowledge that this could have been him, too. Maybe in his head, he was the one dancing onstage, making eye contact with an officer in the audience…
The Twi’lek jumped down from the stage, his pussy glistening with arousal, and leaned over Thrawn’s lap with a smile. Thrawn had all the time to stop it, if he wanted to. Looking at him, you’d think he did want to: cool eyes, thin lips, tense shoulders. But the Twi’lek put two hands on either side of Thrawn’s shoulders, trapping him, and Thrawn didn’t fight back. Not even when the Twi’lek kissed him, long and slow. Not even when the Twi’lek smoothed his hands down Thrawn’s chest and cupped him between the legs. Not even when the Twi’lek whispered in Thrawn’s, ear, voice husky:
“You’re wet.”
Eli’s senses tingled. Wet? He sneaked a glance, trying not to be too obvious, and saw the sheen of pre-cum staining Thrawn’s trousers. Eyes glowing bright, lips parted just enough to reveal sharp teeth, Thrawn pulled the Twi’lek in for another kiss, more aggressive this time, and the Twi’lek’s hand worked over the wet spot on Thrawn’s trousers…
And with a low groan deep in Thrawn’s throat, that wet spot expanded. Enormously.
Eli’s mouth went dry.
“Very wet,” the Twi’lek purred appreciatively. He went in for another kiss, and this time, Eli reached out and jerked him away.
“Sorry,” he said as Thrawn chased the Twi’lek’s lips. “We’re going to our room now.”
All signs of attraction in the Twi’lek disappeared, replaced by a professional boredom as he searched out other takers. Thrawn, still sitting in his chair, catching his breath, almost seemed not to notice that the Twi’lek was gone.
“Sir?” said Eli pointedly.
Thrawn swept his hair back – not that it was particularly out of place – and met Eli’s eyes. “Yes, Ensign?” he said breathlessly.
That should really make Eli feel more angry than aroused, but he was too far gone to react rationally. He hauled an unwilling Thrawn to his feet, seeing now the flush of lilac on Thrawn’s ears, the shallow way he panted for breath, and feeling the heaviness of his limbs–
Oh. That long mission, without rest or food – that extra-strong Sunrise cocktail–
All through the Exotica Club, a hundred Imperial officers watched Eli shepherd his drunk C.O. up the stairs. So Thrawn was a lightweight, Eli thought, and Thrawn was horny, and this was probably the best day of Eli’s life. A year ago he might have taken full advantage of this scenario and signed Thrawn up to be a dancer – goodbye, hijacked career, and goodbye, unwanted alien overlord, and hello to a nice predictable career in Supply. But now, being a marginally better human being (or maybe just someone who had ever-so-slightly given up on achieving his dreams), Eli was more concerned with that wet patch of pre-cum between Thrawn’s legs.
In the upstairs lounge, Eli flashed his ID and a guard ushered them into a private room. Thrawn’s blue skin did him favors; if the staff knew he and Eli were officers, and not a worker with a paying customer, then they’d never get a room this easy. Inside, Eli barred the door and looked Thrawn up and down.
“It’s lubricant,” Thrawn told him with calm dignity.
Eli eyed the wet spot. Slowly but surely, it had spread, until now there was a patch creeping down Thrawn’s leg. Anyone who saw them walking up probably thought he’d pissed himself. “Can I touch it?” Eli asked.
Thrawn’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t say no; he didn’t say yes, either. In a heartbeat, Eli had crossed the room, one hand on Thrawn’s arm to keep him in place, the other… he quested down Thrawn’s body to the wet patch, slick and strangely cool. Eli found the small curve of Thrawn’s cock beneath his trousers and stroked along the length of it, soaking up as much lubricant into the pad of his thumb – until he pulled his hand away and felt the flare of heat across his skin, the pins-and-needles tingle of an alien substance working into his pores.
“It warms up,” Eli observed, licking his thumb clean.
“Yes,” said Thrawn, his voice throaty. He watched Eli’s tongue circle around his thumb, his face blank; and then, in a rush of business-like movement, he unfastened his pants.
Eli’s breath caught in his throat. If Thrawn’s pants were wet, then his underwear was soaked . Lubricant had poured from the tip of his cock and turned his white briefs translucent, so Eli could see every inch of blue skin underneath: the handsome curve of his penis, the tapered alien shape of it, so much smaller than a human’s, but so delicious-looking that Eli fell to his knees. He wrapped his hands around Thrawn’s muscular thighs and leaned closer, until the smell of arousal filled his lungs and the tip of his nose brushed against Thrawn’s underwear, against the cool slick of his pre-cum, against the hard heat of his cock.
“It’s involuntary,” Thrawn said, his voice tight now.
“I’ve never seen it before,” said Eli, his breath warm against Thrawn’s underwear. Thrawn’s chest stuttered up and down, his lips forming a thin line.
“Well, I’ve never seen…” Thrawn’s eyes darted to the closed door. Through it, they could hear the muffled noise of the nightclub, of a dozen aliens just like Thrawn, subjugated by the very Empire he served, and forced to dance for him.
“You’re terrible,” Eli breathed, nuzzling against Thrawn’s cock.
“We both are,” said Thrawn simply, and he pushed his underwear down and shoved his cock into Eli’s mouth so hard that Eli gagged.