Thrawn had always been a tactile person. He was never satisfied with just looking- he always had to take it a step further. A smell, a taste, a touch. His curiosity could not be appeased until he let his hands caress over whatever had caught his attention.
It wasn't until he was older that he realized that some things were capable of caressing back.
He had not known what they were called- stockings, thigh highs- until he had already joined the Empire. His interest in them, however, had started much farther back in his life.
He had been a newly made Commander in the CEDF when he first discovered them, packaged away in a crate of contraband. He had stolen a pair, desperate to know why people would pay for clothing so fragile. Chiss clothing, while designed with fashion in mind, was always created to be durable above all else. The sheer items that werein the crate were clearly meant to serve some other purpose. It seemed so pointless, so frivolous.
At least it had until he had tried them on.
The feel of something so delicate, so soft and smooth clinging to his skin was almost erotic. He fell in love. With they way they felt, how they looked on him, how he looked in them. Everything.
That had been his first and only pair, and he had cherished them as he would his own ship. He had been forced to leave them behind when he was exiled, one of his few material possessions he had mourned the loss of.
Now in the present, there was little reason to grieve. Not when his collection had expand by five times his original amount, each a different style and color.
The pair he was modeling right now in front of the full length mirror were of a plainer sort. Black, and without the frills of lace or patterns, the silky pair of thigh highs were one of his least expensive pairs. However they also looked amazing against his skin and worked wonders for his legs, making them look longer than they were and accentuating his musculature.
Thrawn let his eyes travel up and down the length of the mirror with a teasing smile, taking in his figure in the reflection. There was a lot to admire, he decided as he let his hands skirt over his body. One slid over his chest and other slid downward onto his thigh where he let a single finger slip between the elastic at the top of the silky stocking and his leg, pulling it back and letting it snap against his skin. A hum of satisfaction escaped his lips at the sting.
He slid his hand up to brush over the standard black underwear he wore with a slow blink. He wished he owned a nicer pair he could have matched with the thigh highs. They deserved better than regulation underwear. However buying a matching pair would break his one self-imposed rule regarding his dressing habits. Treating himself to the occasional pair of stockings was one thing, but buying panties was more than what he was willing to risk right now.
If someone discovered that the fearless Imperial leader wore women's undergarments underneath the pristine white uniform then moral would surely suffer. He was careful. Beyond careful, ordering only through businesses that made discretion their utmost priority. Even then he still used fake names, and had the packages be delivered to safe houses where he knew they would remain untouched until he could pick them up. He would not push his luck. After the war had ended, then perhaps he could allow himself the risk of ordering a full ensemble. Until then he would have to make due with the circumstances.
Not that it was a challenge.
Thrawn moved the hand that was feeling of his underwear so it rested on his hip. Turning himself just enough to eye the curve of his own firm ass he admired himself from this new angle with the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. Not a challenge indeed.
He looked up to meet his own gaze as he turned himself to fully face the mirror again. He had an hour to himself before he had to get back to work. He had time to enjoy himself, draw his self-admiration out if he wanted to. That's what he had planned for.
At least he had before the muted warning lights started flashing two seconds before Pellaeon rushed in.
"Sir we're under attack-" Pellaeon's words broke off in an alarmed grunt as he stumbled to a stop. The sudden entrance startled Thrawn enough to freeze him in place, breath catching in his throat as his eyes flashed over to watch the other man in the mirror. Time seemed to come clattering to a halt. Pellaeon was floundering, mouth gaping as his eyes immediately went downwards to gawk at the material that covered Thrawn's legs.A long pause stretched out awkwardly before his eyes moved up the other man's backside to meet Thrawn's eyes in the mirror. Pellaeon blinked and suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing and a blush climbed up his face. Thrawn watched as Pellaeon's eyes darted around the room frantically before settling on staring at a spot on the floor. He could hear the man gulp and watched as Pellaeon shifted, stance widening.
Thrawn felt numerous emotions well up in his chest. He could feel his heartbeat thundering in his body; panic, humiliation, and anticipation mixing together in a way that made his stomach curl. Force of will kept his mind from faltering, a desperate need to end this making his brain form words and his mouth move.
"I will be on the bridge shortly, Captain." An iron will kept the phrase cool if not unusually distant. It was an offer of escape for Pellaeon. A reason to remove himself from this situation, a chance to get out.
Pellaeon grasped at it like a lifeline, nodding a bit frantically as he continued staring at the floor. "Yessir," was all he managed to say, voice hitching, not even bothering with a salute as he turned on a heel and darted out of the room, the automatic doors just barely opening quick enough to let him escape without pause.
As the doors slid shut behind him Thrawn blinked. He let his eyes fall away from the spot Pellaeon had been standing in seconds ago and exhaled slowly. His mind was attempting to run in a million different directions at once, and even as he began forcing his body to calm down he couldn't help but focus on a few of the things his mind had taken interest in. The way Pellaeon's eyes lingered (and how eager they had seemed at the prospect, how they followed every curve and line of his clad legs with such rapid consideration), the gulping, the shift in stance-
The shift.
That seemed important.
Just a widening of the legs, a bit beyond what was normal, beyond what would be a comfortable resting stance. Why? Why would any man stand in such a way; why would he take the care to do so when he should be distracted by such an awkward situation?
As he came to an answer his eyes darted back up to stare at his own face in the mirror. Realizing he was wasting time he frowned at himself and began making his way to where his clothes were folded on his bed. They were under attack from an unknown enemy, and here he was undressed and contemplating his second in command's possible-
Arousal.
It was the easiest conclusion to come to, considering Pellaeon's reaction to walking in on him in such an undressed state.
The thought was a curious one but it was also one for later, after he had crushed whatever had dared attack into dust. Right now he didn't have time for that sort of thought, or the time to change out of the stockings as he snatched his pants up his legs.