Love In Alderaan Places

“They call him Solo,” Ashley said. “Because when it comes to women, apparently he can get into their pants in under twelve parsecs. But he’s always technically single. Hence: Solo.”

Maggie picked at an unravelling thread in her uniform as she tried—and failed—to subtly check out the guy everyone was talking about.

Cosplay tended to bring out the creative side of a lot of people who were keen to let their geek flag fly among likeminded fans across multiple genres. All the fun. Zero judgement.

But this guy. I mean, how many people could just walk into a convention without much a costume?  He didn’t even need a Wookie beside him, just that black jacket, a blaster and the necessary amount of swagger.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he walked with the kind of confidence that lingers on the skin of those who never have to question whether they belong.

Dick. Arrogant arse.

Sleeves rolled up, Sully leaned casually against the wall, watching as a gaggle of Anime-inspired teens meandered by, even as his body remained squared towards her.

“Ten dollars says he heads straight for the Orion Slave Girls,” she muttered, before realising that she had inadvertently uttered the thought out loud.

She didn’t need to see the raised eyebrow to know he’d heard her.

He pushed himself off the wall and took in her Captain Kathryn Janeway costume, which by no means hid her curves but was practically saint-like given the clothing-optional approach taken by numerous other fans this year.  

Opposing fandoms were all well and good, but there were more than a few Princess Leias donning retro gold bikinis and deeply unflattering buns on the sides of their heads.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but you’d lose that bet,” he said. “Tough to boldly go where no one has gone before if you’re that much of a prude.

“Shouldn’t you be off finding a final frontier or something … or at least a half decent franchise to idolise.”  

Maggie sighed and added an eye roll for full affect.

“Of course the subtleties of Star Trek are lost on you,” she smirked. “You’re probably not smart enough to keep up with the plot lines given how gullible you’d need to be to believe that a one-man fighter could take down the Death Star. It’s just a shame we can’t freeze your ego in carbonite.”

Sully laughed out loud, stepping closer to her and the energy shifted from combative to something else. He leaned in close, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, making her shiver.

Hyper-aware of his body close to hers, Maggie held her breath, a hint of stubble against her cheek.

“I can keep up,” he murmured. “With a lot of things. If you give me a chance.”

With that last declaration, he moved away, leaving her standing there as he disappeared into the crowd as she tried and failed to regulate her heartbeat, hundreds of people milling around her.

“Damn it,” she said.

____________________________

The next day Maggie was back volunteering at the convention centre when she spotted yet another Han Solo lookalike surrounded by what could only be described as a multi-species harem competing for his attention.

His artfully tousled hair and a custom replica blaster did nothing to hold her attention though as she scanned the thousands of people who were already pouring in through the doors.  

Clearly this wasn’t the Solo she was looking for. No, she had someone far more annoying—and gorgeous—in mind.

Artwork projected onto the walls directed fans to their chosen panels, while teasing announcements from this year’s biggest superhero franchise.

“Cool, huh,” Ashley said, masterfully slotting a display panel into place with one hand and clutching what had to be the world’s biggest coffee with the other.

Maggie had to admit, she got such a kick out of the raw talent that was everywhere at these events.

As a professional coder, she was logical and rational by nature, but cosplay gave her a chance to bask in the creativity of other people. Seeing their big picture ideas being brought to life was well worth emerging from her self-imposed life as a hermit to brave the crowds once a year.

A stream of muttered expletives and inventive curses drew her attention, the colourful language drawing a smile. At least until she clocked the man who was responsible as he stared up at the same artwork that she’d just been admiring.

One of Sully’s hands moved through his hair in an obvious sign of frustration, followed by another curse that would have made a lesser woman blush.

Clearing her throat, she moved through the groups of cosplayers milling around to stand at his side.

“At least Han Solo had charm going for him,” she said in a tone that had the good luck to sound casual.

Sully only grinned. That smile sent the butterflies in her stomach fleeing for cover, while a tell-tale flush began its rise from her boots all the way up her neck.

Why was she so affected by this guy? He was arrogant and unashamedly annoying. He probably didn’t know how to use an apostrophe or all the words to Firefly. Both were essential skills in her book.

Maggie’s inner monologue was enough for her to want to abandon him on an alien planet. Preferably the Hoff system AFTER the rebellion’s evacuation.

Sully turned towards her, stepping that little bit too close for her comfort or her hormones. 

A part of her brain which had apparently been in deep freeze for the past 18 months took note of his rolled-up shirt sleeves. Seriously, when did forearms become sexy?

“So, I hear you’re a coder. The best around apparently. Can I assume that’s code for white hat hacker and you’re basically adding all Star Wars fans to the CIA’s no fly list?”

“You watch way too much TV,” Maggie retorted, dragging her eyes up to his.

“I wouldn’t add every Star Wars fan to the list. But I’d be happy to make an exception for you though.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, sliding his hand around her waist and moving them to aside, steering them out of the path of a Dothraki horde making its way through to the main hall.

“God, you smell good,” she admitted.

“Finally, a compliment,” Sully said, dropping his voice. “Not that all this verbal foreplay isn’t fun, but words of affirmation do make a nice change. Even for this scruffy-looking nerf-herder.”

“Who’s scruffy looking?” she whispered.

In that moment, breathing in his scent with a strong arm wrapped around her waist, her senses were painfully heightened. Desire trickled deep inside her like a single malt whisky as she stared into his hazel eyes.

For a long moment they just stood there, sharing a breath.

Then Maggie’s hand reached out, her index finger touching first his wrist, then his forearm as she pulled him closer in a subtle but undeniable order.

Her lips made first contact. Which was ironic, she thought, before all the words fled her mind in a flood of sensation.  

Her tongue gently traced his lower lip and his hand grasped a handful of her hair.

Oh, but she’d read about kisses like this. She’d expected it to be hard and fast, almost clumsy in its overwhelming passion.

This was slow. Oh, so slow. She could feel his breath and his tongue slid against hers, gentle and teasing. Together they danced, intertwined and oblivious.

His hand slid to her ass as Maggie grasped his shoulders, her centre of gravity shifting as she leaned back, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Sully teased her bottom lip with his teeth and she moaned, pulling him even closer.

She felt molten, wanton and powerful. Desired. And with his body pressed against hers, there was no doubt that he wanted her.

So much for swearing off men. This man was her own personal catnip who came with devouring kisses and scathing sarcasm.

Tomorrow’s weather forecast looked to be cloudy with a high chance of sexual frustration and stubble rash.

Sully’s lips grazed her earlobe, before gently kissing and teasing her neck, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. He’d found that spot—the one that sends shivers right down a woman’s spine—and she arched against him.

Eyes fluttering, Maggie realised with horror that while their PDA had threatened to spill well and truly out of PG-13 territory, that wasn’t the worst thing.

A previously silent crowd erupted with applause. She gasped, moving away and blushing furiously at the realisation that not only had the kiss been public—it had been live streamed throughout the convention centre.

Disorientated and out of breath, they stared at each other, the wolf whistles and cheering echoing through the hall. In front of them, the big screen had taken time out from trailers of the summer’s next blockbusters to proclaim that cosplay’s version of Romeo and Juliet had found each other in the main hall.

Wishing the ground would swallow her up was clearly ineffective and less than rational, but as she watched a recap of the most passionate kiss of her life play out on the big screen before thousands of strangers, she didn’t feel a moment of regret.

Grasping Sully’s hand, she looked into his brown eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” she murmured. “Of all the Alderaan places...”

Bowing graciously to the crowd, they wrapped an arm around each other, smiling as they turned to find somewhere—anywhere—they could be alone. 

They made it three steps before Maggie’s boss came running up to them, clutching her phone, a frantic look on her face.

“Sully, they know you’re here,” Sam said, in a low voice. “You guys were all over social media … you have to go, right now!”

The words didn’t quite filter through to Maggie’s oxytocin and serotonin-soaked brain. 

Sully swore, but he still held on to Maggie’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I shouldn’t have … but I couldn’t not. I’ll tell you everything when it’s safe.”

“Safe? What? What is going on?  Who are you?”

She took a deep breath as a million juxtaposed conspiracy theories created the world’s craziest jigsaw in her head, only for those pieces to scramble as his mouth found hers again in a searing kiss.

He gave her a small smile and shrugged, letting Sam pull him away. Maggie stood there, feeling as if she were still in a chemically-altered state.

“I’ll explain everything later… Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t have time for anything else.”

She could have kicked him for that. But scary looking bouncer types with earpieces caught her eye as they moved through the crowds towards Sully.

“Sully, now,” Sam insisted, pulling his arm. He turned away and ran through the meandering fans, leaving Maggie wondering what the hell had just happened.

She followed seconds later, just in time to see Sully disappear out a side door and pushed into a waiting car, which pulled away from the pavement and smoothly merged into traffic.

Maggie threw her hands up in the air in frustration. She watched the car move away and shoved her hands into the pockets of her Janeway costume.

The familiar form of a USB grazed her fingers, as one of the goons with an earpiece made eye contact with her in what she assumed was meant to be an intimidating stare.

Well, bollocks to that. 

Maggie squared her shoulders and pushed the USB deeper into her pocket.