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Vader's armor did not technically contain any leather, but it looked like it did. The armorweave of his gloves did an especially good impression. One had to run one's fingers across it very carefully to notice the difference.
He had met people before who were drawn to such textures. That was commonplace, in some communities, to the point of stereotype. So it did not surprise him, on their weekends together at his fortress, when he caught Tarkin absently touching his gloved hands, moving his fingers against the thick material.
Vader had things he liked to touch, too. He had a band of shimmersilk sewn into the lining of one of his sleeves, which had been a gift from Tarkin, and which was almost painfully delightful to feel against his skin. Sometimes he shifted his arm minutely on purpose, just to feel it.
He turned his head as Tarkin's fingers strayed to his gloved wrist.
Caught out, Tarkin smiled and raised Vader's hand to his lips. Vader did not have enough sensation in his hands to feel the kiss, but with the Force he felt the small glow of affection behind it.
It was good, after all, to feel things sometimes.