#obi-wan smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uyuartik · 10 months ago

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bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

part one | part two | part three | ao3

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering.

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball.

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though.

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight.

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you.

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you.

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you.

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others.

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?"

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?"

"I could never claim otherwise."

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?”

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.” He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.”

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.) But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets.

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

��I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend.

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people.

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face.

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs."

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear.

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion.

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

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stxrbxrn · 4 months ago

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sorrow and stardust …

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x f!reader tw: angst <3 word count: 2k ( give or take ) a/n: i haven't written smut in like 2 years please be nice

the twin suns of tatooine dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet. you stood at the entrance of ben kenobi's modest dwelling, your silhouette a stark contrast against the fading light. the cooling air whispered across your skin, carrying with it the scent of sand and distant memories.

inside, obi-wan - for that was how you'd always know him - moved about with quiet purpose. his weathered hands arranged two earthenware cups on a rough-hewn table, steam rising from their depths in lazy spirals. he paused, sensing your presence, and turned to face you.

"you shouldn't be here," he said softly, his blue-grey eyes holding a storm of emotions.

you stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind you. "i had to see you."

the space between you crackled with unspoken words and suppressed longing. obi-wan's shoulders slumped slightly, as if bearing the weight of the galaxy. he gestured to the table.

"please, sit. the tea will get cold."

you took your place across from him, wrapping your fingers around the warm cup. its heat seeped into your bones, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in your heart. obi-wan remained standing, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of his humble abode.

"why did you come?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"you know why," you replied, your own voice thick with emotion. "i couldn't stay away. not after... everything."

obi-wan closed his eyes, pain etching deep lines across his face. when he opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. "it's not safe. i'm not safe."

you rose from your seat, closing the distance between you in two swift strides. your hand reached out, hovering just shy of touching his cheek. "obi-wan..."

he flinched away from your touch, turning his back to you. the rejection stung, but you stood your ground.

"look at me," you pleaded. "please."

slowly, agonizingly, he turned to face you once more. the years of exile had taken their toll, etching lines of sorrow and regret into his once-youthful features. yet beneath the weathered exterior, you could still see the man you'd fallen in love with – the jedi master whose unwavering dedication to peace and justice had captured your heart.

"i'm not good for you," obi-wan said, his voice raw with emotion. "i bring nothing but danger and sorrow. you deserve better than a broken man living in exile."

your heart ached at his words. "you're wrong," you whispered fiercely. "you are everything good in this galaxy. your compassion, your strength, your unwavering light – even in the darkest times."

obi-wan shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "my light? i failed. i failed the jedi, the republic, and..." his voice broke. "and anakin."

you reached out, this time grasping his hand in yours. he didn't pull away, and you felt a glimmer of hope. "you didn't fail, obi-wan. you did everything you could. the choices others made are not your burden to bear."

he looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "but they are my burden," he murmured. "every life lost, every system that fell..."

you stepped closer, your free hand coming to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. "then let me help you carry it," you said. "you don't have to face this alone."

obi-wan's eyes met yours, a maelstrom of longing and fear swirling in their depths. "i can't ask that of you. the empire... if they ever discovered my whereabouts, if they found out about you..."

"i know the risks," you interrupted. "i've always known them. but a life without you, obi-wan kenobi, is no life at all."

for a moment, the walls he'd built around his heart seemed to crumble. he leaned into your touch, his forehead resting against yours. you breathed him in – the scent of sun-warmed fabric, ans lingering tea.

"i've missed you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "more than i can say."

your heart soared at his words, but the moment was fleeting. as quickly as it had come, the vulnerability in his eyes was replaced by steely resolve. he stepped back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace.

"but that doesn't change anything," obi-wan said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. "i have a duty here, a purpose. i must protect luke, prepare for the day when... when he might be our last hope."

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "and what about us?"

obi-wan's gaze softened, a sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "our love is like the stars in the sky. beautiful, eternal... and impossibly distant."

the words hung in the air between you. you wanted to argue, to rail against the unfairness of it all. but deep down, you knew he was right. others needed obi-wan far more than you did.

"will you at least let me stay the night?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "one last night before..."

obi-wan hesitated, conflict clear in his eyes. for a moment, you thought he might refuse. then, with a nearly imperceptible nod, he acquiesced.

you stepped forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, the taste of him like a long-forgotten dream. his hands settled on your hips, but he held himself back.

your hands went to the sash holding his robes closed. as you untied it, you kissed him, hoping the kiss would convey all the words that wouldn't come. the sash fell to the floor, and you parted his robes. the skin of his chest was soft beneath your touch.

his hand came up to cradle your cheek. "i've missed you," he murmured, "more than you know."

obi-wan kissed you again, and this time, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. his tongue teased your lower lip, and begging for you to part them. let him in. and you did. the feeling made you shiver. you were suddenly aware of how sensitive your body was.

he stood, you in his arms, slolwy walking you both towards the bed. his lips left yours as he guided you onto the bed, laying you down and climbing on top of you. your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips moved down your neck. his tongue teased at the place where your shoulder and neck met. his teeth nipped lightly at your skin. you moaned quietly, arching your back, pressing your chest against his.

obi-wan's hands slid down your sides, pausing to squeeze your breasts. a whimper escaped your lips. his thumbs rubbed across your nipples, sending bolts of heat straight between your legs. his hands continued downward, pausing to trace the curve of your waist, the jut of your hips. then his hands were on the bare skin of your thighs. you could feel the roughness of his palms against your smooth skin.

he pulled back, looking down at you. his pupils were blown wide with desire, and his face was flushed. his gaze was heated as it raked over your body, taking in the sight of you laid out before him.

"you are the most beautiful woman i've ever known," he murmured.

he lowered his head to press a kiss just above your navel. his lips moved upward, tracing the path his hands had taken moments earlier. your skin burned with every brush of his lips. his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear. he paused, waiting for you to protest. when you didn't, he slid the garment down your legs and discarded it.

obi-wan looked at you with a mixture of reverence and hunger. he ran his hands up your legs, spreading them. your breath hitched as his fingers trailed across your inner thighs.

"are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"yes," you gasped.

he stroked his thumb over your clit, sending a shudder through your body. a moan left your lips as he rubbed slow circles. the pleasure was intense, and you found yourself bucking your hips against his hand, chasing the friction.

he dipped a finger into you, and the intrusion drew a moan from deep within your chest. obi-wan curled his finger inside you, and stars danced behind your eyes. he added another finger, and you couldn't hold back the sounds spilling from your lips.

"please," you moaned.

you could feel the tight coil in the pit of your stomach. your muscles were trembling, and your head was thrown back. you were so close.

obi-wan added a third finger, and the pleasure was too much. you felt like your body was about to shatter. your climax washed over you, and your vision went white. you were vaguely aware of the way you cried out his name, the way your hips bucked against his hand.

when the waves of pleasure subsided, you opened your eyes. obi-wan's head was bowed, his brow furrowed in concentration. the muscles in his shoulders were tense, and his chest was heaving.

"what's wrong?" you asked, reaching up to cup his face.

"it's just...been a while," he said through gritted teeth.

you took him by the hand and tugged him toward you. he resisted briefly, but you were determined. you straddled his lap, feeling the hard length of him pressing against you. you reached down and undid his trousers. obi-wan didn't resist as you freed his cock.

you stroked him slowly, relishing the way his body shuddered against yours. you pressed kisses to his neck, nipping lightly at the skin. he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

"tell me if i hurt you," he breathed.

"you won't," you promised.

you guided his cock to your entrance, the tip sliding inside you. his hips jerked, driving him deeper.

"fuck," he gasped.

you bit down on your lower lip to hold back a whimper. he felt bigger than you remembered. he filled you so completely, the sensation nearly overwhelming. you forced yourself to take a breath, letting your body adjust to the intrusion.

"are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained.

you nodded.

he began to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place. his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched. his body was tense, every muscle straining against the need to let go.

you leaned in and kissed him, trying to soothe his worries.

you rocked your hips against his, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat.

"please."

you could feel the last of his resistance crumble. his grip tightened on your hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent. you could tell he was close.

his hips snapped forward, and you could feel his cock twitch inside you. he cried out, his release washing over him. he collapsed back against the pillows, his chest heaving.

you laid down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. you were both silent for a while, lost in your thoughts.

"thank you," obi-wan murmured.

you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, savoring the warmth of his body and the smell of his skin.

as the first light of dawn began to creep across the sky, you stirred from your place in his arms. obi-wan's eyes fluttered open, immediately finding yours. for a brief, beautiful moment, there was nothing but love between you.

then reality came crashing back.

you dressed in silence, each movement feeling like a step towards an inevitable goodbye. obi-wan stood by the door, his jedi robes hanging loosely on his frame. he looked older in the pale morning light.

you approached him one last time, cupping his face in your hands. "i love you, obi-wan kenobi. no matter what happens, no matter how far apart we are – that will never change."

he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. "and i love you. may the force be with you... always."

with a final, lingering kiss, you stepped out into the harsh tatooine morning. the suns climbed higher in the sky, their heat already beginning to shimmer off the sand. you didn't look back as you walked away, knowing that if you did, your resolve would crumble.

obi-wan watched you go, his heart breaking anew with each step you took. he remained at the door long after you'd disappeared from view, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"goodbye, my love," he whispered to the empty desert.

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi angst #obi-wan angst #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars angst #star wars smut

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sugarrrvenomm · 1 year ago

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do you have any obi wan thots 🙏🤞

of course i do ! and im sorry its been so long besties !!im trying to get back in the swing of things, so heres a sloppy list of things that give me a heart beat in my pussy <3

i saw something on here the other day about pussy drunk obi-wan and I have not been able to stop thinking about it. him not wanting to come up from between your legs, looking at you with his beard sopping and a lazy smile and eyes half lidded. you’re sloppy wet but he keeps spitting on your pussy anyway, rubbing it around all foamy and thick with his fingers. “do you think I can make you squirt this time, darling?” making you come over and over again until you try to squirm away but he doesn’t let you. wraps a hand around your thigh to keep your cunt pressed against his mouth while his other hand presses soothing little circles into your tummy. “your clit is so cute when it’s all swollen and puffy…” before he’s grinding his nose into you and moaning into your pussy. ugh i just want him to suck my clit 🥺🥺🥺🫶

surprisingly sensitive obi-wan … loud in bed obi-wan … i like to think that jedi sex education has an emphasis on not being ashamed about your sexuality. obi-wan was never indoctrinated with that bullshit that makes men quiet in bed. he doesn’t care about coming off needy. he is needy. when your in his lap, and you run your hands over his chest and grab his pecs, running your nails over his nipples … he arches into the touch and lets out the sweetest little sounds …. “please, please. touch me.” he begs for you to fuck him, to suck his cock. when your on your knees teasing him, letting the fat head of his cock leak all over your cheeks but not putting it in your mouth, he can only half stop his hips from twitching. “suck me, please, sweetheart. I need your mouth, look how im dripping for you.”

JUST THE TIP OBI-WAN !!!! him just slipping the head in … feeling the way your pussy tries to pull him in deeper … eyes rolling back in his head from that alone and you KNOW that little piece of hair is falling in his face. you beg him to move but he can’t, can’t let his cock sit even an inch inside you for another second. he has to pull out and start thrusting against your cunt, the slide of it smooth and the sounds so fucking nasty cus you’re so wet and you’ve never seen his cock leak so much before … thrusting against you and the tip of him bumping your clit over and over … hot and soft and wet wet wet … until he shakes and whines “fuck!” and covers your pussy in his come, still fucking his softening cock against you until he’s slipping the head in again to push some of his load inside of you 💞💞…

getting put over obi-wans knee :)))) “you’ve been a bad, bad girl.” it should be corny, but coming out of his mouth, it’s not. he spanks you until you squirm, and then he’s tugging your panties down and starts laying into your bare ass with his big hand, over and over and over again. when you start tearing up, he asks “open your legs for me, honey” and you think you’re about to get some real relief but he just starts slapping your pussy and you pout and whine and beg with every harsh little tap against your drooling cunt and neglected clit. every few hits he stops to lick his hand.

self indulgent here but obi-wan calling you bunny <3 “do you know what bunnies do, my love? they bounce. can you come over here and show daddy what a good bunny you are?” while he strokes his big cock <3333

#after all of this he kisses my forehead btw ...#obi-wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #🐇

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221bshrlocked · 2 years ago

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Obi-Wan slowly slipping under the covers behind you after having to stay with the council until the late hours on Coruscant. Sneaking into your quarters undetected making him feel like he’s a young padawan doing things he’s not supposed to. But he just can’t stay away. You’re letting out soft moans with each breath and all he wants is to enter your mind and find out if you’re dreaming of him. He’s been ready for you since you told him that you’d be expecting him later and leaving him a hot mess in the library. It taking all of his will power to not let out his frustration right there behind the tall book shelves.

He oh so slowly moves your sleep shorts to the side enough for him to slip inside of you. Oh. You are having a good dream indeed. He’s pressed up so close to you; his nose in the tangles of your hair and his hands pulling you closer by your waist….

😳😳😳 Uhhh excuse me?

Loui. Babes. Sweetheart. Bestie. You can't just hit me with somnophilia without a warning like that!!!!!!

NSFW below cut. Descriptive talk of somnophilia so if that makes you uncomfortable, please skedaddle away. Also, Obi-Wan is a kinky fucker. No you can't change my mind.

God I can picture this so vividly too. He can't wait to return back into your arms. He walks with the single goal in mind: getting to your quarters in the dead of night without anyone noticing. The good thing is, your rooms aren't far from each other. But the bad thing is, your rooms aren't far from each other...which means, any other Jedi Master on the Council, also returning to their own rooms around this time, might catch him going into yours.

So he has to be even more careful than usual. He takes long strides, but does his best to calm his Force Signature, and the discomfort of the blood running somewhere he wishes wouldn't be such a distraction at the moment. He brings his robes around his front to shield the growing hardness tenting his trousers, only halting in the hurried steps when he reaches your door. It's clear to him that whatever he's experiencing now is similar to when he was a youngling, perhaps even worse, because while he may have snuck out several times during his youth to steal from Master Yoda's favorite fruits, the actions he's close to taking now are much more serious. Obi-Wan does laugh though when he thinks of Master Yoda's reaction if he were to find out what he's doing now. It would not be dissimilar to the way he approached him years ago when he finally found out who was sneaking into the kitchens and hoarding the delicacies.

When he's sure no one is around, and those who were are fast asleep, he pushes the combination to your door in and sneaks inside, the door sliding shut immediately after he enters. Obi-Wan takes a few moments to collect his bearings, and when he finally turns around, he's met with the sight of your calm and content form beneath the soft sheets of your bed. He grimaces to himself when he sees you're wearing clothes, but the reality of the situation overrules his irritation and he undresses in record time. For a brief moment, he thinks of leaving his boxer briefs on, but the sounds and moans you begin to make in your sleep derail whatever thought he just had.

Slipping the last article of clothing down his legs, he approaches you slowly and stands at the foot of your bed for a while, tilting his head to the side when you move to your side and continue to groan in your sleep, a little bit louder than earlier.

Maker, whatever you were dreaming of must have gotten you in a bit of a frenzy.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Obi-Wan walks around and slips behind you, shifting the sheets away from your body until the two of you were exposed to the chill of the night air. He caresses your arms with two fingers, smiling to himself when he sees gooseflesh erupt across your skin. Your breath hitches all of a sudden and Obi-Wan is torn between watching your Force Signature spike in heat and probing your mind so he can have a front row seat of what's getting you so hot and bothered.

He slides his hand beneath your arm and around your navel, digging his fingers into your stomach to bring you as close to him as possible. When your own hand shifts down and holds onto his own like an anchor, his mind is made up almost instantly.

Obi-Wan pushes his nose the space just behind your ear, inhaling deeply as he moves his hand down and pushes one of your thighs higher so he can get better access to your cunt. You oblige with ease, and the Jedi Master feels his cock twitch with excitement at remembering what you said to him earlier today when he was researching something for an upcoming mission in the library.

I can't wait to feel you tonight. It's been so long Obi, and my fingers are nothing compared to your cock.

He teases your slit with the tips of his fingers, groaning your name when he finds you wet and wanting and shaking for him. Pushing your sleep shorts aside, he shuts his eyes to contain himself from coming then and there at the mere prospect of being engulfed by your heat.

I know you'll come late tonight baby. But...I was thinking- even if you do, I...I still want to feel you. Wouldn't you want that too? I could be good for you...all the time. If you just train my body to take you whenever you want, however you need, I could bring you pleasure any time you yearn for release. Even when I'm not even aware I am. Please Obi, let me help you rest. Let me pleasure you in my sleep...it would mean the world to me, knowing that I can serve you at any given moment.

Pushing his nose into your skin one last time, Obi-Wan thrusts his cock into your cunt, growling with desperation when your walls sheath him like the tightest of gloves. He can't move for a few minutes, afraid he would shoot his load deep in your womb if he so much as pushes into you a little bit more. Your sounds only egg him on though, and his breath shakes with sheer anguish at the prospect of pleasing you in return. He roams his hand up and down your body, torn between holding onto your waist as he fucks into you and moving his hand up your body to grope your breasts in his palm. He thinks that if he were to keep them on your waist, he might end up pushing you beneath him and railing into you until you woke up, something neither of you wanted now.

So he slides his hand underneath your night shirt, and he forgets how to breath for a second when he rests his hand above your heart and finds it hammering against him. He's unsure how this should make him feel, if he should feel pride at being the one to cause you such heightened sensations, or if he should feel possessive of the way your body reacts to his touch, even in your unconscious state.

As soon as his fingers grace your nipples and find them achingly hard for him, he decides that he will dwell on that last thought later. For now, he wanted to make you sing for him in your sleep, and push more filthy dreams into your mind so you can feel as fulfilled as he was now.

Focusing all of his energy on not coming prematurely, Obi-Wan bucks his hips and feels a strike of lightning shoot down his spine at the hot, soaking welcoming of your walls. He wants to scream your name, tell you how good you are to him, even when he's not letting go inside of you, but he knows that anyone around will catch a hint of whatever is going on in this room, so he rests his forehead against your shoulder blade and bites his lower lip to quiet down. He moves with determination, pinching your nipples occassionally if only to hear you moan something akin to his name in your sleep or simply groan and take in a harsh breath.

Obi-Wan doesn't know how long he goes on. It feels like a thousand years, his cock nudging a perfect corner inside you that causes you to gush even more around him, coating the bedsheets beneath you with more of your juices as proof of his ability to pleasure you even when you're not asking him to do anything. But as the need for release grows, he realizes that he must have you cum on his cock before he does, because he's not sure what would happen if he were to shoot his seed inside you and you were left hanging in your sleep. He wanted you to experience rapture as he was now, and before he can think twice of what he's doing, he slips his hand down in between your thighs and shoves his fingers inside your sleep shorts, quickly flicking your clit as he increases his thrusts and feels your walls clenching around him.

He opens his eyes in time to look at your damp neck, and with a few more flicks to your engorged bundle of nerves, he watches as you descend into ecstasy, your Force Signature singing his name louder than he thought even possible in such a state. He wants to wake you, warn you of what would happen if anyone found out, but he can't find it in himself to ruin your orgasm, so he pushes and pushes until he feels a blaster hit his stomach, his cock twitching violently in your cunt as he shoots his load and paints your walls for what feels like minutes.

He throws his head back against the pillow, but doesn't let go of you or pull away, and only when he comes to his senses do his eyes shoot open in panic. He listens, and listens....and listens some more, for any sign of anyone around knowing what just happened. When nothing out of the ordinary draws his attention, he thanks the Maker that he can remain where he is now instead of getting up and doing damage control.

As he sits up on his elbow and looks down at you, he finds your eyebrows furrowed, as if you were focusing on something really hard for a long time and weren't able to do it. Roaming his eyes down your body, he finds your nails digging into his forearms, your breaths coming in hot and ragged. Obi-Wan laughs to himself because of course you wanted more of him even in your sleep. The thought warms his heart because to know that you only ever thought of him, even in your unconscious state, is to have lived within the Force itself.

Even though he knows he should clean the two of you, he doesn't dare move, and instead returns flush behind you, giving your clit a few, teasing rubs to feel your cunt flutter around him once more before resting.

Hmm, tomorrow morning was certainly going to be interesting.

#i don't know what just happened #i'm literally writing an obi wan oneshot #and i saw this ask #and my hands slipped #obi-wan/reader #obi-wan kenobi/reader #obi wan/reader #obi wan kenobi/reader #obi-wan smut #obi wan smut #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan kenobi

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thegreatwicked · 10 months ago

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FicRecs

Enjoy some of my favorite stories I've come across on Tumblr! Seriously, I LOVE these stories and I reread them A LOT!

Please note: Virtually ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE SMUT. That means 18+ content, and you are responsible for managing your internet consumption. Minors DNI.

FicRecs

DC Comics

Dance for Daddy by @matth1w LAWD. I love me some Roman Sionis fics and this one DELIVERS. Sexy, kinky, smutty I give it a solid Chefs Kiss.

Joy Ride and Let Me Make You Feel Good, The Intern by @littleredwing89 More delicious Roman Sionis one shots Joy ride is about teasing Roman as he drives and Let Me Make You Feel Good is about a sweet smutty cure for a hangover. And the Intern, a fuck buddies to lovers story, god yum. Reader inserts. Drool. Go forth read and enjoy.

Bait the Beast by @more-cardigan-than-womanLord help me, I found a new little gem. You cause a bit of a ruckus with Coblepot and Roman thinks you need a lesson.

Yours by @tarrenterror25set in the AO! Verse Roman is having some trouble during the holidays overcoming everything the Joker did to him, good thing he has you. Because he does. You're his now. Melt. Sorry about the mess.

Star Wars

Water and Rock by @split-spectrum I honestly cannot say enough good things about this story It follows Obi-wan/Fem Reader in the classic Master/Padawan troupe and it. is. SPICY. Up to twelve chapters which I have read MULTIPLE TIMES and it hits so hard. Go read this story it is sexy as HELL and gives you the feels. She's so damn good at writing Obi-Wan it hurts, but like in a kinky good way.

The Gift by @ladyinwriting18 I have already spoke at length about the fabulousness that is Lady in Writing and her amazing content. This one is a favorite! Its a Maul/Reader Insert and it is smutty sxy and kinky. Seriously if Maul is your fictional crush (Hi me too!), go read this.

The Three Princes Part One: The Oldest Profession by @thenightmarketofdathomir This writer is freaking legendary. I do not know the collection of words in my own language to describe the eloquence and sophistication this writer possesses. Just go. Go read this and you let me know if you're ever the same again. This gem stars our boy Feral and is a you/reader insert. Oh damn, this story makes me want things...

Birthday Wish, Romancing the Pages, The Write Seduction, To Create Life, by @jedianjakenobi Y'all, this author holds a special place in my writer's heart. She's a published author on Amazon and she's truly amazing. Her works are all Obi-Wan-centered and reader inserts. Birthday Wish is a birthday crush from your sexy neighbor, Romancing the Pages is a fake relationship/summer romance with a reclusive shy librarian (Ben) and a best-selling author, The Write Seduction is a professor Kenobi/writing student story and it is SPICY. And my favorite To Create Life is a Jedi Council green lights a baby-making program and who else is the reader paired with? Their good friend Padawan Kenobi. My darlings, my friends, if you like Obi-Wan smut then you are doing yourselves a disservice by NOT reading these.

Empty Me Out by @221bshrlocked reader insert/DOM Obi-Wan I'm tellin y'all this story NEARLY killed me. I've lost track of how many times I've readit. You're an entertainer and Master Kenobi needs information from you, so you give him what he wants and then he gives you what you want. Where it Wasn't massage therapy reader insert/Obi-Wan, do I need to say more? Pretty sure I melted into the floor with this one.

His Loving Satine by @waterlily707 I love reader insterT and OCs but these two Obi-Wan and Satine are a joy to read. Temporary paralyzed Obi-Wan at the "mercy" of a slightly dom Satine. Juicy, gorgeous, little bit of fluff. Love it.

Room 24 by @murdockussy Little angsty Obi-Wan/reader insert enemies to lovers in an undercover assignment-type situation. Spicy, dom Obi-Wan give. Me. More.

Tea with Lemon, Tea with Honey by @wickedscribbles an established relationship as a reader insert and Obi-Wan. If you want honey then you get to take care of a sick Obi-Wan and kind out you have a new kink, if you want Lemon then Obi-Wan takes advantage of said kink and whisks you away to another planet for some R&R under the guise of "work." Enjoy!

Actors/Characters

Ben Hardy

Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go by @stray-kaz God. This one shot is just sxy as hell, it's a Billy/Four fro, 6 Underground/Female Reader. Our boy comes home to one hell of an 'I missed you, I need you right now' welcome. GO read it. Right now.

Such an Experience by @rogermyreligionOk. Guys... FUCK, this is a hot little oneshot Roger Taylor of Queen/Female reader and OMG. Just go read it. I've officially stopped counting how many times I've read this. Smutty/Sexy. I'm dead.

Long Distance by @acciotwinzwinz. Y'ALL. Sit your asses down and read this Roger Taylor/Reader insert/You. It's fluffy, its sexy, its cute and the smut is -chefs kiss- Yes, I read this one a lot too.

For now, these are some of my favorites that I frequently reread because I love them. I'll probably be adding more, it's more than likely I've forgotten some...

#fic rec #ben hardy characters #star wars #dc comics #jason todd #roman sionis #all smut all the way #billy/four x reader #roger taylor #obi wan x reader #obi-wan smut #roman sionis smut #jason todd smut #darth maul x you #darth maul smut #Support writers content #My favorite fanfics

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spicemaidenfic · 1 year ago

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( image powered by AI )

Him | Star Wars | Obi-Wan x Reader

✶ Summary: You love being his apprentice and all it entails...

✶ Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan! Reader

✶ Warnings: Smut (18+)

✶ Length: Short one shot, 1.4k words

✶ A/N: A short piece that I churned out in a day or two amid having stacks of multi-chapter fics that I will need the power of God and Anime to finish (bear with me chronic illness doesn't help me stay organized lol)

The mountain skyline’d made for a lovely view, but the best view was below you.

➢ Read the full fic here

#obi wan x reader #obi wan smut #star wars smut #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi-wan kenobi x reader #spicemaidenfic #him by spicemaidenfic #spicemaidenfic op

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phoeebsbuffay · 1 year ago

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Imagine Obi-Wan Kenobi’s complex journey…to the dark side.

Warnings: drama, angst, violence, inappropriate/adult language—explicit smut and fluff as usual.

Warnings 2: *long* post.

Recommendations: “Lavender Haze” by Taylor Swift; “Yellow Flicker Beat” by Lorde.

No minors.

***

Preface

“When there is too much light”, you tell him, “one might lose the sight for it.”

“But when there is too much dark”, so the red haired male muses, “the fate seems to be all the same”.

You tilt your head.

“The whole point is that every excess leads to suffering. Those who claim to possess the true core of goodness are blinded by their vanity, although those who are plunged by darkness is similarly lost.”

“Then what should I do?”, you detect a hint of misery in his voice.

“I am not the wisest of beings, Obi”, you smile candidly. “You’re not on your own. You should not pick up the broken petals and try to glue them to what they used to form. No. The damage is done, but it can be mended and transformed in something better.”

There is so much to be said, but, to your disappointment, words die in his thoughts. His eyes divert away and the magic is gone.

“Obi?”, now he detects despair in your voice.

The Jedi looks back at you. His blue eyes little by little lose the spark that once colored such tempest irises.

An eclipse rises.

“I must depart”, it’s all he mutters. “Unfortunately I cannot stay, Senator Y/N.”

You don’t have to say goodbye. Obi-Wan is gone with the wind.

***

• Part I: The Creed.

“You look too sad, Master”, Anakin tells him concerned. “This sadness of yours has remained there in your eyes longer than I’d thought it would take. I must say I am concerned.”

“This is exhaustion to you, Anakin”, Obi-Wan remarks. “I’ve been working per usual, that is all.”

“You have been burying yourself in work since that incident with the Duchess has…”

“It was not an incident!”, Obi-Wan snaps at Anakin, who stares at his Master in bewilderment. He sighs before softening: “I just…appreciate your concern over me, Anakin. It’s going to be fine. But there are moments when I wonder where this will end. Frankly, it frustrates me that two years later Maul isn’t entirely wiped out of the galaxy.”

“He’s not like any other we faced, Master. That creature is a Sith Lord, therefore we ought to be very careful when dealing with the man”, Anakin smiles quietly, eyes filled with comprehension. “But be mindful that grief should not overcome you, after all…”

“Fear leads to anger that leads to hate that leads to suffering”, so Obi-Wan completes. “I shall not forget that. It pleases me to see you learned that well, Anakin. I forget at times how good you can actually be.”

Anakin rolls his eyes, about to say something in return when the thread is interrupted by Master Windu, who requests Obi-Wan’s presence for a mission to planet Y/C.

“It’s farther than we had formerly judged”, the said Master tells Obi-Wan. “But we understand this is an important mission in order to prevent this region to fall to the Separatists. Apparently Count Dooku has sent a spy to convert Lady Y/N to his side. You must not fail, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m sure everything will be conducted most appropriately”, assures the other male.

By then the two part in friendly terms. But Anakin, the witness of the moment, is suddenly plagued with a strange feeling. However, he has not time to uncover it or even share with his Master, for Obi-Wan doesn’t want to waste anymore of his time in Coruscant, a planet he’s grown to dislike.

***

When he meets you after a long time spent journeying to your planet, Obi-Wan is dressing somber shades of red, opting for a dark cape that falls over his shoulders. But the growing shadow within is momentarily eclipsed by your glowing beauty.

Your long and wavy y/c hair is tied in a single braid; your face is painted in delicate colors that seem to bring your beauty in a most natural way; your light red gown reinforces your curves and after two years, Obi-Wan finds himself desiring a woman again.

His eyes linger at the swell of your breasts and for one moment, his mind takes him to a dark spot, where he allows to imagine taking each breast with his tongue—hungry for affection, wishing to be provided with what he hopes to find a sweet lullaby coming out of your lips, singing out his name—; but the moment you clear your throat, he sweeps away such pictured scene, burying it deep—mostly because he doesn’t want to have a boner right now.

“Master Kenobi”, you greet him with a sweet voice, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and awe. He knows by the careful glance you give him that you find him handsome. Apparently, the attraction is mutual. “Thank you for getting to us. Welcome to our planet. I pray the journey has not been too hard on you.”

As you lead him to a seat next to the window, from where he can see the landscape outside, Obi-Wan smiles at you when answering:

“It has not, thank you for asking, my lady. I do hope, though, that your ladyship may forgive me for the delay in our mission. I had other matters to attend.”

“There is nothing to be forgiven for, Master Kenobi”, you smile again and Obi-Wan hates how the light that comes from you makes him feel like a teenager in his hormone days. “Before we begin to discuss our points, allow me to serve you some tea. Do tell your favourite.”

This is how it begins.

Lord forbid, but as each day goes by, you find yourself desiring to hear more of the serious and meticulous Master Jedi. His redhair and his blue eyes are difficult not to draw your eyes, but his muscles—perfectly well hidden under such robes—leave so much to your imagination.

Often seen by others as cold, unreachable woman, always avoiding relationships of any nature, it seems this man has managed to make you go to your knees—though you’d gladly turn this metaphor into literal.

You’ve heard the other day a lady in waiting describing to another exactly how she went to her knees to please her husband—a way the said lady in question found out from a maid of her trust—and how deliciously it was to feel his manhood pumping into her mouth. As you enter into the salon, your eyes scam after him, with that scene in the back of your mind.

What would be like to please him? To make this sacred Jedi feel profane, mundane things? It’s when your own conscience admonishes for such thinking. You are a governor, a member of the Senate who vowed never to marry or get yourself involved romantically—specially after one particular man, Senator H/N, broke your heart.

“Ah, Master Kenobi! There you are!”, you greet him with glee. “I must admit I am worried about how the Senate will respond to our request. I do wish to remain neutral in this war.”

Obi-Wan comes to perceive that he’s been growing intolerant to his impatience with this unending war. Or perhaps he’s mistaking it with frustration? The man cannot tell and he has no intention in letting obvious his discontent.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Senator Y/LN”, and so suddenly your desire for peace reminds him of…

“Are you well, Master Kenobi?” You ask him gently, concerned about the shadows that so suddenly take grip of his reasoning. “Come, let us go outside. A stroll around the gardens might suit you.”

“No, I appreciate your concern, but…”

You surprise him by being an effective adversary.

“I don’t take no as answer, good man. I know distress when I see one.”

“And here I thought I was hiding well”, Obi-Wan muses sarcastically.

“Oh, didn’t you?”

How you snap back at him earns the Jedi some smile. And you are pleased your effort is finally coming to something.

“Is it weird to live by peace in a world plunged by extremisms?” You think out loud as you two share a stroll in a quiet, content pace around many green walls.

Obi-Wan, who’s been studying you more often than he’d sensibly admit, side eyes you and discreetly responds:

“I don’t think so. When disease begins to make sense, reason starts to find illogical healthy musings. We’ve been too sick to realize that peace could’ve been reached by a simple dialogue with some compromising”.

“Why do we expect better attitudes from others when we ourselves lack them?”, you sigh. “I suppose it’s because our enemies reflect our darkest fears.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrow at the thought. Seeing a good point you make, he finds himself uncomfortable for the first time in a long time.

We make demands of others. We fight for others. We expect better of others when we are not better than them.

Has the good cause been corrupted? Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s conviction starts to be shaken by his own beliefs.

“I’m sorry. I was meant to bring you some solace, not providing you this uneasiness”, you apologize by reading the Jedi’s awkward steps.

When finding your y/c eyes, Obi-Wan’s first instinct is to flee. You too get this sensation and perhaps you let it show more than you’d know. But he resists it.

You are not Satine. I cannot expect you to be like her. But you bring me to a different light… and I fear where this path will lead me.

“Don’t apologize”, though his arms remain folded, his features are now softened. “I’ve been under stress for two years in a roll. You deserve better, my lady, and I haven’t been a most proper guess, have I?”

You chuckle softly and the sound that comes with it makes any burden his heart’s been carrying loose…

“I understand more than you know, Master Kenobi. I fear to say I tend to overthink about what surrounds me”, you smile at him, your eyes not ready to let go of the gaze that captured them. “It’s a hopeless world we live in and yet I think it’s my duty to bring some joy to it.”

“And how’d you do that?”, he inquires, too intrigued by your web not to play with it.

“By living to a personal creed”, you give the Jedi a mysterious smile. “Live righteously through every beating of your heart. Do so by providing others some cheerfulness.”

That being said, you actually succeed to distract the very grave Jedi close to a fountain and with one small push, get him into it.

Soon, the silence is broken by a sound of cheerful laughters and for the very first time Obi-Wan joins them, not burdened, but free of it.

***

Part II: Duty Is The Death of Love.

Obi-Wan is requested to go back to Coruscant once the situation in your planet is partially resolved. But there is reluctance on his part going and you fear for his departure too.

By then, an unspoken attachment had developed between you two—but neither felt the urge to make it obvious, in other words: to make the first step.

“You are too quiet, dear Y/N”, Obi-Wan remarks, his eyes never letting go of your sight for a moment.

This evening you are having dinner. A private one, very personal and intimate in many shades—but the Jedi realizes you’ve been far from his grasp. It so appears to him that your brightness has been stolen away.

“Am I?”, you raise your eyes to meet those sparkling blue ones that have been searching for yours. You blush lightly as a result. “I’ve always been quiet, Obi.”

“This is hardly the truth”, he smiles. “You’ve been always the one to speak, my dear. Please, tell me what’s been troubling you.”

Your pride advises you not to tell him how you feel. Obi-Wan sees through you the struggle, but these are trying days. What’s there to lose if you speak your mind?

“I will miss you”, it’s all you can say.

He reaches for your hand, gently lacing fingers. Never before duty felt so strained, so… suffocating.

“I’m not really leaving. You know that.”

You don’t realize a puddle of tears is forming in your eyes before you say:

“You’ve always shone brighter than anyone I’ve known. I shall not eclipse that.”

Obi-Wan quickly leaves his seat to console you. On his knees before you, he takes each hand and presses there a kiss.

“Dear love”, he rushes to say. “You are a poetry to my soul. I’ve been numbed for a long time and thought myself dead inside until you brought me back to life. How can you say I shine bright when you are the sun who feeds me light to do so? No. I’m nothing if not a moon in need of your light.”

When did the desperation rise so eminently? You don’t know, neither does he. But all so suddenly, your lips are collided against his and Obi-Wan is rising you from your seat to pull yourself into him.

Your hands are now playing with his hair all the whilst his own are gripping tight your waist. His kisses are urgent and fervent, warming you in every possible way.

His lips are now going to your neck and you throw your head back, feeling exposed under his gaze. Indeed, had you had the ability to read mind, you’d find nothing but indecent thoughts there.

Hungry for your affection, his lust draws unspeakable ideas to you. His lips enjoy your soft skin and his eager hands are already unlacing your gown. On your turn, the tingles that his beard make on you are enough to make you sigh.

You promptly rest your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to find balance. As you do, you pursuit his lips once more as your hands begin to work in his fabric.

“Obi..”, you heavily sigh as you now kiss his jawline and move to his neck, gently biting his skin.

“Yes, dear Y/Nickname?”, he groans lightly as you have control over him.

You don’t know what you are doing, but you do. Moved by a strange house instinct, your hands toss his fabric away, going down to his manhood, all the whilst you pepper his neck and shoulders with a loving kiss.

“You are mine”, you whisper against his skin, as your delicate fingers find what they are looking for. “Aren’t you?”

You raise your eyes and Obi-Wan finds mischief in them, much to his arousal, specially when you start holding his manhood very gently.

“I am, yes”, he sighs heavily. “Maker knows I belong with you entirely, dear one.”

His words are like charm, evoking your sudden confidence. Suddenly, you flip positions, starting to get the best of him. Your eyes are glued on his heavy breathing and when he thinks he’s about to come undone…

You take him all.

Using your red lips.

But he is not a man to be easily subdued—he is the one who subdues, and here you are submitted at his will.

Obi-Wan knows you well and he enjoys driving you crazy by doing all he wants to do with you slowly.

“Beg, dear one”, he smirks at you, his fingers gently stroking your feminine core, not yet slipping them inside you. “This is what you want to do…”

You hiss under your breath, eyes already painted with desperation. But your pride is simply useless before the strength, the physique, the beauty and perfection that stand right before you.

“Please”, you whimper, much to his delight.

And he does so. His lips looking for yours, he takes no more of your time before pleasing you the way you deserve.

“I love you”, you sing your feelings out, followed by another whimper.

“I love you too”, he kisses you hungrily, enjoying the effect he has on you.

There is nothing but the alluring dark to light the way, and no sense of goodbye is perceived when one body collides with the other. Never before Obi-Wan felt so alive. A sensation that he does not want to let go of.

Towards the end of the night, when you two are bathed by salt, you turn at him and say:

“You should stay.”

Obi-Wan sighs. It feels as if he’s living that night again… when it was whispered that the duty was the death of love. When looking back at your y/c eyes, the good there is in them, a voice in the back of his mind says again: must you repeat old mistakes?

Must you?

However, for now the Jedi does not wish to dwell in such thinking. Internal riots are briefly quieted. He turns at you and peppers your face with kisses before cuddling you in his arms.

“Let us enjoy the today, my dove. It’s all I ask for.”

A response that does not content you, but would have to suffice now.

When you wake up the next day, he is gone. The warmth in his side of bed is replaced by a cold, a void of goodness you feel so abruptly deprived of.

It hurts, it aches too much the sound of heartbreaking. You should know that what was going to happen.

But the images of both of you speaking of the past as if the future would be one with the other roll in the back of your mind. Is there anything you could do?

No.

But that day you weep as sacred moments are remembered too well by your soul, broken like a secret you kept, an oath that now sounds meaningless.

And here your pain becomes a growing angst that paints your heart blue, all alone trying to find how to deal with all the intensity that crushed you like a tide that took you far from the shore, letting you drown by a heavy wave.

A knock on the door, however, disrupts you from your thought. You barely notice the tears rolling down in your cheeks until you taste the salt these come to your mouth. And now you must regain your composure.

Oh you must.

“Duty awaits”, you think out loud before granting the permission for the door to open and soon coming inside your bedchambers.

A moment so sacred is now profaned. As it should be.

***

Part III: Midnight.

“Have you heard the tale of Darth Plagueis, the Wise?”, the chancellor asks him.

Obi-Wan is wearing his usual suits this evening for an encounter with the man behind the Senate, the one whom the Jedis asked him to spy for. Palpatine is the said man’s name and although his behavior is rather…unique for a man of his position, it comes at being too odd to spy him.

“I believe I am rather familiar with it, yes”, replies the red headed Jedi, stroking his beard, as he casts his cold blue eyes towards the other one. “Why’d you ask, Chancellor?”

Giving Obi-Wan a smirk, Palpatine carefully shrugs.

“This is a tale often misconstructed by the Jedis.” He pauses carefully, waiting for some reaction coming from Obi-Wan. Once it did not, he continues. “Duty not always must be the death of love, Obi-Wan. Once upon a time, love was the main weapon of the Jedis. Now it appears to have been poisoned by the ambitions of such an Order.”

Silence hangs in between the two men, heavy like grey clouds announcing an upcoming storm.

“What you suggest is treason”, whispers Obi-Wan, avoiding the male’s gaze. “The Jedis have been the keepers of peace in Galaxy for centuries.”

“The endings often bear good intentions”, remarks Palpatine. “How about the means, though? The means justify the endings, and you cannot look away the pride and arrogance that have flickered the Order.”

No answer. Slowly, like a snake spotting a prey, Palpatine surrounds Obi-Wan.

“My dear, your duty has been rewarded with nothing but disdain. Your name has once been shouted by your fellow Jedis, but now it’s been whispered like a poison. Is this what you’ve become, Obi-Wan? A name, a number…a mere saber?”

“I don’t need recognition”, Obi-Wan retorts, but even he can feel the emptiness of his belief.

What has changed?

“Oh, but we do. We do. What are we without the applauses of those we love? Not beasts to be served to other’s purposes”, Palpatine smiles. “You have doubled your powers, Obi-Wan. But your path of blood… when will it end? They say fear leads to anger and anger leads to suffering. But has duty emptied your sentiments? Blind devotion also leads to suffering, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

A sweet melody is sang. To see it’s effect, however, Palpatine slowly removes himself from the scene. The prey is at long last trapped by the snake’s trap.

Obi-Wan knows it. He feels it. The tentacles of darkness tempt him, seducing him like the sweet embrace of a lover.

Indeed, the list of dissatisfaction is too long to ignore. The anguish within never ceases to torment him. The temptation is too great to bear.

Nonetheless, it’s close to midnight when the Jedi leaves everything aside to look for you. Perhaps you have every answer for him; perhaps you might be the savior he needs.

You are located at your lavender garden, even though it’s past midnight. Chaos surrounds you, war destroys everything you know. You grew strangely comforted by it. You learned to play coy, to be the player you planet needed. Neutrality was merely a disguise. But politics was never a clean game in the first place.

Two nights ago, you’d met him. You thought you’d lost him again, but the silent steps caught you out of your guard.

“I knew I’d find you here, Y/Nickname”, his husky voice brings out a smile of your lips. “A lavender field is most proper to your ladyship.”

You raise your eyes, not surprised for seeing Obi-Wan Kenobi dressing a dark robe, a somber shade of red in his suit, standing powerful before you.

“I do not wish to forget the lavender haze creeping upon me.” You tilt your head, pleased to find a secret smirk twisting in the corner of his lips. “What are you here for, my dear? End this the way it should be.”

“It pains me to hear this is your conclusion”, he muses somberly.

You promptly stand and move to where he stands. Very gently, you remove his hood and run your hands over his short red locks, before cupping his face and tiptoeing to rest your forehead against his.

“I wouldn’t take you as a man who understands everything literally”, you make a small jest, pleased to make him chuckle.

“Darkness is so much more alluring than I’d ever consider it to be”, he whispers. “I’ve tripled my powers since I left you. I shall not lose you, my dear Y/N. The Jedis and the Sith…both took everything I’ve loved.”

He sobs and seems to fall on his knees, but you hold him, able to prevent him to lose his strength. But because he’s heavier than you’d able to carry him, you manage to lead him back to your lavender garden.

“This doesn’t have to be the way”, you tell him. “There is more in the world than Jedis and Siths, Obi.”

As he glances to you, you spot a swift change in the color of his irises, spot an unending suffering in the dark waters of his soul.

“I hate them”, he whispers, and the sound is like that of a whip. “I hate them all.”

“Let us run away then”, you speak gently, caressing his hair. “Those who step in our way shall be destroyed. Simply as that.”

Obi-Wan chews your solution for a moment. It’s reasonable and makes sense. When admiring your beauty and the gentleness that comes from your good heart, he takes your suggestion.

But then… a question rises.

What if there is no more Jedi nor Sith?

#not even sure if this is good but I’m the kind of person who finishes what starts so apologizes in advance for any disappointment.#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #obi-wan Kenobi #Obi-Wan #Obi-Wan smut #obiwan x reader #obiwan x female reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi x female reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi smut #Obi-Wan x y/n #Taylor swift

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skywlker-sluvtt · 1 year ago

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congrats on 500 !! can i request obi wan + smut dialogue prompts 16 and 40? <3

thank you ml <33 i'm literally on my obi-wan shit rn so i was excited to see this one.

500 followers celebration

obi-wan x gn!reader nsfw content below the cut (18+) word count: 737

prompts: “if you want to come you better beg” + 40. “don’t give me that look”

Ever since Obi-Wan stepped foot in your apartment he’d insisted that he was busy and promised to spend time with you when he’d completed his council reports and checked any that Cody had sent him. You huffed but agreed giving him a kiss for good luck and leaving him to work in the kitchen. He was now three hours and five cups of tea into his work and you sighed gazing at him from the couch.

“Obi” You sighed walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “Yes, my dear?” He replied putting his hand atop yours to show he was listening. “Take a break you really, really deserve it” “But I just have-” “No, you’re taking a break” You said firmly taking the device from his grip and hiding it somewhere, as if he wouldn’t be able to find it.

He sighed and looked up at you while you perched yourself on his lap, giving him a tender kiss. “Oh don’t give me that look” He chuckled recognizing the cheeky look in your eyes. “What look?” You smirked. “You know what look I’m talking about you minx” He teased. “Never say that word again you old man” A giggle left your lips and he kissed you. “Alright, then what would you prefer to be called?” “Anything but that” You said cupping his cheeks and stroking his beard. “You’re impossible” He whispered pulling you in for a few sloppy kisses.

It wasn’t long before he’d carried you to the couch for comfort as you continued to kiss all over his neck, the scruff of his beard rubbing against your lips. Taking the lead you slipped between his legs instead of letting him get on top of you. “Love-” “I’m taking care of you…you’ve been so so busy lately you deserve it” You whispered undressing him slowly, kissing each part of his bare skin till you reached his thighs. His bulge was clear from beneath his underwear. You traced your fingers over it before leaning down and licking him through the thin fabric.

“Oh-darling” He sighed. “Yes?” “Keep-keep doing that” He sighed moving a large hand to your cheek. Pressing a few more wet kisses against his bulge you finally released his cock admiring its length, no matter how many times you saw his dick, it never failed to amaze you. Licking from base to tip he relaxed immensely slumping into the couch with a sigh. “Very good darling,” He sighed slipping his fingers through your hair.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth and swirled your tongue around him savouring his flavour. As you took him down your throat you kept your gaze permanently on him. Watching his blue eyes flutter closed with pleasure. He bunched your hair between his fingers lightly tugging. “You’re doing incredible, keep-keep doing that” He encouraged as his cock hit the back of his throat.

You kept working him squeezing your throat around his cock he let out silky moans to encourage you. “Love, please it’s so good” You felt him throb against your tongue and pulled back depriving him of what he needed the most. His eyes shot open and he looked at you trying to steady his breath. “Wha-” He started before you spoke “If you want to cum, you better beg” You gave him a cheeky grin and he sighed accepting that he’d have to beg to find release.

“Please my darling, I need you. I need your mouth on me please” He breathed out softly. You returned your mouth to him once more tracing the veins along his hard cock before reaching his sensitive tip. “I need more, you look so beautiful. My love more, please. I’ll do anything” He choked out. Obi-Wan’s silky voice continued to praise you whilst he begged for release.

You sucked him hard giving him big doe eyes before your mouth filled with his cum. The salty release coated your throat as you swallowed hard. Obi-Wan’s hips stuttered a few times before he finished collapsing into the couch his head fuzzy with lust. Pulling back you smile up at him, lifting a hand he wiped the spilt-over cum from the corner of your mouth. “Your turn,” He said pulling you toward him.

#HEHEHEH #500 follower celebration #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi-wan imagine #star wars smut

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madamealys · 11 months ago

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Imagine Obi-Wan gives you what you need... (+21)

***

It's one of these days you need something to take that energy away. You are aware of the vows you made when you became a Jedi, but even now as Master, the sexual needs have become a burden you know not how to deal.

You tried in the days of your youth touching yourself, but these nowadays... Well, it's not enough. It's when Obi-Wan Kenobi, your long time friend, comes to your aid. Despite being 15 years apart, he's always been there for you.

"My dear Y/N, looks like you need a rest. Come by six o'clock so we can talk."

You appreciate the invitation, and though you consider refusing it, you know Obi is the only one who might understand what you are going through.

"I should sleep earlier, but you know how life is, my friend. Either way, yeah, we need to catch up, don't we?"

And laughing quietly, you two part ways. Later that day, dressing more casually, you stop by your friend's quarters. You remember how easy going and friendly was Obi-Wan when you became Knight Jedi ten years ago. You were counting twenty years then when the redhaired male recently elevated to Master told you how centered you were and how bright your future was going to be.

"Ah, Y/N!", Obi-Wan had been sensing you were coming so in advance he'd left the door partially opened. "You came! I was worried you would not come."

You come to notice how elegantly is Obi-Wan dressed. His hair is longer and his beard is carefully shaved, and his robes reinforce his well muscles. To notice his handsomeness does not help your case and you hold back a sigh in frustration, rather concentrating in the present.

"Oh no, you shouldn't fuss about it, Ben. I've been just exhausted, is all."

As you walk in, you ignore Obi-Wan's long gaze at you. You have grown to a fine woman, prettier now than ten years ago. But he senses a disturbance in you.

"I hardly doubt it", he says. "I think what you are going through is what we all once did too."

You cast him a puzzled look just as he leads you to the couch.

"This is not... I..."

Obi-Wan smiles at you warmly, understanding. There is no judgement in his blue eyes, and perhaps this is the moment your mind shield drops. He approaches you thus and resting a hand over your thigh, he says:

"Can I show you a good way to help ease things?"

You hold your breath, but you trust him. He's being a good friend, after all. And by being your good friend, he'll teach you good ways to relax.

Thus it is he closes the distance between you two, and his hand moves your thigh higher, under the skirts of your gown. When meeting your feminine parts, he uses the force to put your panties low and only then his index finger gently finds way to your core.

And the relief almost immediately comes.

"Oh Maker!"

"It's good, isn't it, dear one?", he whispers in your ear as he begins to stimulate you, himself aroused by how you give in so easily. "You should have sought me earlier... Ten years repressing yourself does no good."

You throw your head back, letting him have all the power over you. Obi-Wan knows it, feeling somewhat sinful for corrupting you, but enjoying all the more for watching you squishing under his touch.

And he slowly moves in your gown so he can have a better view of your breasts, but by now the focus is giving you the pleasure you need.

Therefore he now inserts two more fingers in you, watching as you flutter your eyes and whimper his name.

"Obi-Wan! Oh Obi-Wan!", and there is something so sensual in how his name is out of your tongue, that Obi-Wan's own chest is heavy with breathing.

"Is it good, my darling?"

And then his eyes have a peek of your pink nipples, hardening as a result of the feverish moment. Obi-Wan feels so tempted to taste each, to have them fully in his mouth, but as you moan loud again, his eyes are back at you.

And your eyes now hold his gaze.

"I think I might..."

He uses his free hand to caress your cheek as he inserts one more finger.

"Yes?", he finds your weak spot and there strokes it, lips now capturing yours in a fervent kiss.

Just like that all the tension is gone and your screams are muffled by a very passionate kiss. Your mind goes blank, not processing at all how you ended up being fingered by a good mentor and greater friend.

"Obi...", you adjust yourself, suddenly feeling shy for what was done.

The Jedi himself is surprised when perceiving the limits of friendship that have been surpassed. But not that... When looking at you, he in fact underestimated himself.

For when you two share a look, he realizes he wants more of it.

And so do you.

#that was so fucked up i cant even hahahah #dont care #obi-wan smut #obi wan smut

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 2 years ago

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The Will of the Force - CH 20

Fandom: Star Wars Rating: Mature Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obikin AO3 Masterlist

Summary: What if Obi-wan hadn’t been granted permission to train Anakin in the ways of the Force? What if Qui-Gon hadn’t perished during the battle with Darth Maul? How differently would things have turned out?

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 20

The trip back to Coruscant was spent with Anakin doing his utmost to keep his ever restless Jedi in bed and resting, by any means. That very much included endless makeout sessions while laying in Obi-Wan’s bed in the medbay, their lips rarely leaving the others except for a quick breath here and there, hands tangled in each other's hair, limbs entwined. At some point Anakin wasn't sure where he ended and Obi-Wan began, not that he was complaining. If it kept Obi-Wan in bed rather than wandering through the ship, risking potentially worsening his injuries, then Anakin was more than happy to lay in that too small bed forever and kiss Obi-Wan until he couldn't breathe anymore.

But of course, all good things must come to an end, as all too soon they landed on Coruscant and they were forced to break apart and get out of bed. The rest he acquired on the trip back had done Obi-Wan well, as he was walking on his own now, less and less needing Anakin's shoulder to lean on for support. Anakin was pleased with it, but as they walked off the ship with Padmé and Qui-Gon in front of them, Master Yoda and Master Windu both waiting for them in the hanger, Obi-Wan suddenly leaned over and wrapped an arm around Anakin's shoulders. He felt heavy again, and though it worried Anakin for just a moment, something flashed across the bond and he very quickly understood.

“Your Highness, Prince Anakin,” both Windu and Yoda bowed as they reached them, “we are glad that you're both safe, as well as you, Master’s.”

“All thanks to Master’s Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan,” Padmé gestured to the two Jedi beside her, “if it weren't for them we surely wouldn't be here right now, and I especially owe a great deal of gratitude to Master Obi-Wan for saving my Anakin.”

“Rewarded for his efforts, Master Obi-Wan shall be,” Yoda said, and nodded toward where Obi-Wan was still heavily draped across Anakin's shoulders.

“Thank you, Master.”

“But for now we must get you both to the council room for debriefing,” Windu announced, “your Highness, the room you were in previously is still available to you, as is the room across the hall for the young Prince. I can have another Jedi escort you both there if you would like.”

“Actually,” Obi-Wan started, leaning impossibly heavier on Anakin's shoulders, “I am still very weak from my bout with the Sith Lords. If it is at all possible, I wouldn't mind the allowance of one more night of rest before we jump into meetings and debriefings.”

“Informed us of your injuries, Master Qui-Gon has, but more to tell, you have?” Yoda looked up to Qui-Gon who simply nodded, giving nothing more away. “Then meet tomorrow, we shall, to discuss what remains. Wait until then, the rest can. Rest you must for now, Obi-Wan. Help you need with the Master, young Prince?”

“That's okay,” Anakin nodded to him, gripping tighter to Obi-Wan’s hand over his shoulder and pulling him closer to his side, “I would like to help Master Kenobi, if that is alright, he did save my life after all.”

Yoda contemplated it for a moment, before nodding and smiling up at Anakin. “Very well then, to the Halls of Healing, go you will.”

“Ah…” Obi-Wan started, “I think a good night's rest in my chambers is all I need, Master.”

“Very well,” he repeated, “anything you need, let us know.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda, I do appreciate it.”

Yoda nodded to him, then turned his attention to Windu. “Aid the Clones with the prisoner, perhaps we should instead.”

All of them turned just in time to watch both of the Clone battalions who had aided them at the Sith Citadel, leave the ship with Palpatine, lead by both Cody and rex. Their blasters were all focused on him, not a single one of them turning their eyes away from the Sith Lord for so much as a single second, and as soon as they were off the ship they were surrounded by a ring of Jedi Masters. There was no escaping in the cards for Palpatine this time, not without a fight he would not win.

“You may think you've won, Kenobi, but this reprieve will not be the happy ending you expect it to be,” Palpatine spat as he was escorted past them, “the dark side has not died, the Sith will prevail, and next time we meet I will ensure that you suffer until you are begging me for death.”

“Hey! Keep it shut!” Rex shouted as he shoved his blaster hard into the Sith Lords back, pushing him forward. “Keep it moving!”

He said no more as he walked with the Clones and Jedi through the hanger, each step bringing him closer and closer to his fate. But despite the fact that Palpatine was very much subdued and completely under control, Obi-Wan could feel the tension and worry suddenly encompassing the bond.

“Allow you all to take your leave, we will. Deal with the former Chancellor, we must,” Yoda said then turned to follow the Clones, “come, Master Windu, much to do we have.”

He too said his goodbyes and left, and the second they were out of sight Obi-Wan turned to face Anakin, lifting his free hand to cup his cheek. “Don't worry, my darling, he cannot hurt you again. His reign is over.”

“But everything he said…” Anakin shook his head, the worry clear in his eyes, “What if it's true? What if he has something up his sleeve and we still aren't safe.”

“Anakin, hush,” he soothed, “I promise you we are safe. Palpatine will be imprisoned until his fate is to be decided, under guard, with no chance to escape. And no matter what I will never be leaving your side again, there is nothing to worry about, my love. Please trust me.”

“I do, I trust you, Obi-Wan,” he nodded, “he just worries me. He deceived us all once before, who's to say he won't be able to do it a second time.”

“If he does, we will handle him and whatever he may attempt to throw our way,” Qui-Gon assured him from the side, then in an attempt to move Anakin's thoughts away from threats of danger, he placed a hand at the small of Padmé's back and said, “now, I shall escort Padmé up to her chambers, and I assume you will be helping Obi-Wan to his own chambers.”

“I will make sure he gets there safely and gets all the rest he needs.”

Qui-Gon smirked and eyed the pair knowingly, “I'm sure you will,” then turned Padmé away from them and walked her through the temple and toward her chambers.

Anakin and Obi-Wan followed, at a much slower pace, but eventually they made it to the elevator that would take them to Obi-Wan’s room. They were both quiet the whole way there, with Obi-Wan still leaning on Anakin for support as they finally made it to Obi-Wan’s room, and he waved a hand to let them in. As soon as they were inside and the door was locked behind them, both Anakin and Obi-Wan smirked at one another, and Obi-Wan lifted his weight off of Anakin to stand perfectly fine on his own two legs.

“So, you still need to rest, huh?” Anakin teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Rest is definitely not what I need or what I want,” he answered and crowded into Anakin's space again, taking him by the waist and pulling him in as close as he could, “I just wanted one more night of peace with you before we have to face the Council tomorrow.”

“Are you worried?” Anakin asked, kneading the back of Obi-Wan’s neck in an attempt to sooth him.

He nodded his head, brushing his nose against Anakin’s as he did. “They will not be pleased with me. I pledged my life to the Jedi Order, and now to leave it so easily for love, a thing that a Jedi is forbidden to have… I fear they will not let me go so easily.”

“We can still change the plan, Obi-Wan. We don't have to tell the Council anything. I can stay right here with you and you can continue to serve as a Jedi, we don't have to go back to Naboo if you don't want to.”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head, tightening his grip around Anakin’s waist, “no, I want to come clean to the Council, I want them to know that I have fallen in love with you, I want them to know about our bond, and I want to tell them that I am leaving the Order. If we stay it will only place you in constant danger, should an enemy on a mission discover my love for you, they would surely use you against me. Not to mention I would rarely be here, I would always be sent away on orders from the Council, orders I would not be able to refuse, and I do not wish to ever be away from you again. I want to return to Naboo and live my life with you, not stay here only to live my life away from you.”

“Alright,” Anakin nodded, “if that is what you want, then we will speak to the Council together and then return home as soon as we can.”

“This is what I want,” he answered, “but what I don't want is to talk about the Council anymore.”

“What do you want then?” Anakin asked, his tone playful, clearly already knowing exactly where this was headed.

“I want to love you.”

“Then love me.”

Obi-Wan closed the gap and slotted their mouths together in a heated kiss, wasting no time in pouring every ounce of love he could into it. He had come so close to losing Anakin, in more ways than just one. He had let Anakin be taken, and then in his desperation to get him back he had almost fallen to the dark side. He needed to feel Anakin more now than ever, needed to feel his skin against his own, know that he was really and truly there with him. That he was warm, and alive, and his once again. Never again would Obi-Wan ever let this slip from within his grasp.

He slowly started walking them back to the bedroom, never moving his lips from Anakin’s, never taking his hands off his body. Eventually Anakin's legs found the mattress and Obi-Wan laid him back gently, moving them up the bed to rest his head back against the pillows. But still neither of them had made any attempt to let go of the other, nor did they want to.

But soon enough Anakin became impatient. Having Obi-Wan pressed against him, laying on top of him, his lips and tongue devouring Anakin's mouth, was just not enough. He needed to feel him, all of him, so reluctantly he pulled his lips away and tugged at the hem on Obi-Wan’s shirt. They quickly undressed, tossing shirts, pants, and everything else onto the floor, not caring where it landed, and finally they were pressed together again, completely skin to skin.

They took a moment to soak each other in, hands caressing each other's faces with a softness that spoke volumes to both of their fragile states. They were here, together, safe and in love, but still they were both terrified that in the blink of an eye it would all fall apart. That one touch to hard would shatter the glass beneath them and they would come crashing down to a harsh reality were they were ripped apart once again. A reality that neither of them would live through. But this, together as two halves of one whole heart, this was their perfection, it was where they belonged and it was where they both intended to stay.

When Anakin finally opened his eyes, Obi-Wan was staring down at him with the most loving and tender look in his eyes, and it made Anakin's stomach flutter. He would never get tired of that look or the way it made him feel. Then Obi-Wan was moving closer, slowly closing the gap between them once again, but this time his lips landed on the long cut over Anakin's eye. He softly kissed it starting from the top, over his eye, and to the bottom, before moving back to kiss Anakin's lips once then hover over him again.

Then Anakin took his turn, lifting his shoulders slightly off the bed to tenderly run his lips over Obi-Wan’s left eye, the one that had changed to be half yellow during the fight, before pressing his lips together and pressing a feather light kiss to the lid. When he laid back down he left his hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek, smiling up at the love of his life hovering above him, and Obi-Wan turned his head into Anakin's palm. He kissed it, long, before turning back to look at Anakin while he held his hand against his cheek.

“I told you I would always love you, all of you, no matter what.”

Obi-Wan could only smile at him as he whispered over and over again, “And I love you, Anakin, I love you so much,” while he pressed their chests together again and moved his lips to travel over every inch of Anakin's skin.

As he traveled down Anakin's body he whispered his mantra between every kiss to his skin, like a lifeline, letting it soak into Anakin with every arch of his body into Obi-Wan’s mouth. Anakin's hands found their way into Obi-Wan’s hair when he reached his cock, showing it the same treatment as he had given the rest of Anakin's body, then took it into his mouth. It took every ounce of Anakin's strength to keep himself from bucking fully into the heat of it, but Obi-Wan was taking no time in sucking Anakin's cock in as far as he could.

Anakin's hands tightened in Obi-Wan’s hair as he felt his cock hit the back of Obi-Wan’s throat, a chesty moan ripping from him. Then Obi-Wan’s fingers were grazing his lips and he sucked them in, lapping his tongue around them, coating them completely. When Obi-Wan pulled his fingers back, satisfied with Anakin's work on them, he laid back and awaited, knowing what was coming next. Slowly, one finger was pushed inside him as Obi-Wan hollowed his cheeks and sucked him in impossibly deeper. Soon after a second finger joined the first, and then a third, and by the time he was a moaning writhing mess on the very edge, Obi-Wan released his cock with a pop and crawled back up his body to hover over his already panting and wrecked form.

He leaned down and nuzzled his nose against Anakin’s, the younger boy's hands still tightly wound in his hair as he held him close. “Are you ready, my love?” He whispered against Anakin's lips, feeling him nod against him. He reached one hand down between them, grabbing his own cock and lining himself up with Anakin, then slowly he pushed forward until he was completely inside him.

They both released pleasured sighs, finally being able to be one completed whole, all of it bringing about a whole new wave of feelings after both of them having come so close to losing each other. It was almost overwhelming, almost too much. Before Obi-Wan started moving, Anakin reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck and held his Jedi against his chest.

“Please, just…” He started, slotting his face against Obi-Wan’s, lifting his legs to wrap around his waist as well, “Can we just stay like this for a second?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan breathed and nodded, then reached a hand up to tuck a stray strand of Anakin's hair behind his ear.

“I just came so close to losing you I thought… I thought that I would never be able to be with you like this again, that I would never be able to feel you, or love you again, and I-”

“Shh, Anakin,” he soothed, kissing away the tear that escaped him, “I know, because I was worried too. But we are both here, both safe, and both together. Do not let it worry you any more, that threat has passed and nothing will ever part us again.”

“I know,” he whispered, hugging him tighter, closer, nestling his head into the crook of his neck and breathing him in, “I just love you too much, even thinking of being without you again hurts.”

“Well you don't have to ever think of it again,” he smiled against Anakin's cheek, trying to get his thoughts away from the what if’s, “we are going to be married soon, after which you will be officially stuck with me forever.”

He managed to actually make Anakin laugh, a light chuckle escaping him as Obi-Wan moved to the side to suck a mark behind his ear. “Good, and once you're crowned I'll have you completely trapped.”

Obi-Wan laughed too, abandoning his current mark to move back to kiss Anakin's lips.

Anakin melted into the long kisses, letting Obi-Wan’s lips and tongue attack him for as long as he wanted, while he took pleasure in the feeling of Obi-Wan being inside of him in more than one way. Before eventually he pulled back, just enough to say, “I'm ready, you can move now. But don't sit up, just stay here.”

Obi-Wan shifted just a little, giving his hips enough room to pull back just a bit while still keeping himself firmly planted against Anakin's chest, then started a slow even rhythm. Anakin's hands moved to clutch desperately at Obi-Wan’s back, and Obi-Wan’s hands cradled Anakin's face as he pressed their noses together, their parted lips brushing against the others with each grind of Obi-Wan’s hips. Their panted breaths were forced into the others mouth, their tongues darted out to occasionally taste the other, hands roamed every inch of skin and tightened their holds in hair, their sweat slicked chests slid together. Neither of them dared part a single inch or lessen their hold on the other, for this time together seemed to mean so much more than any other time between them. As Obi-Wan had said, they were alive, and safe, and together, and Anakin knew that this was what their forever held for the both of them. He wanted no other future but this, just them, together, two halves of the same heart finally able to be whole.

Anakin arched his back against Obi-Wan when one perfectly placed thrust had him almost tipping over the edge, lifting up to kiss Obi-Wan hard and let him swallow his moans as he relentlessly hit that spot over and over again. And he could feel Obi-Wan was just as much on the edge as he was, as his thrusts were becoming sporadic and uneven, the hand wrapped in Anakin's hair tightening even more as he got closer.

“Ah, Obi-Wan,” Anakin moaned and pulled back from the kiss, “come, Obi-Wan, come and I’ll be right behind you.”

“Anakin-” He grunted, stuttering his hips only a few more times before he came, his hips stilled tightly against Anakin’s ass as a loud, “Oh!” was punched from his core.

And Anakin was as he said, right behind him, moaning a continuous strung out mess of Obi-Wan’s name, and came between them, covering both of their stomachs in a warm sticky mess.

They both took their time coming down, catching their breaths while Obi-Wan collapsed his full weight on Anakin, his face tucked tightly into Anakin's neck, humming as he breathed in the scent that was all his dear one. They stayed together like that, Obi-Wan still inside Anakin, for the longest time, neither of them wanting to move. But eventually Obi-Wan did roll them over so he wasn't completely crushing Anakin, and still held him close against his chest, Anakin's head now tucked under his chin.

“Are you alright, dear one?” He asked, running his fingers through Anakin's hair.

He hummed contentedly against Obi-Wan’s chest, his own fingers playing with the tight red curls of his chest hair. “Perfect,” he answered, sounding half asleep already, “you know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course I do, my love,” he said and hugged Anakin tighter against him to kiss the top of his head, “and you know how much I love you?”

“I do.”

Anakin sighed against his chest and Obi-Wan felt his body relax with the release of it, his limbs heavy against his own. “Go to sleep now, my love,” he whispered into Anakin's hair, but he was already long gone, and Obi-Wan was not far behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Anakin woke it was already sometime in the late morning. The sun was shining through the windows of Obi-Wan’s room, lighting strips across his face where it warmed him into wakefulness. But speaking of his beloved Jedi, Anakin was a bit confused when he rolled over, his arm seeking out Obi-Wan behind him, but found the bed empty instead.

He sat up quickly, now fully awake and seeking him out. A quick and fast rising shiver of panic shot through him, for a moment he worried that something had happened or gone wrong. Maybe someone had found out about them before they’d had the chance to explain, maybe the Council had called him away in the dead of the night, demanded he stay with the Order and leave Anakin, sent him away on a mission that he couldn't refuse. But just as soon as the feeling had risen it was quelled by a soothing sensation enveloping the bond, accompanied by a shouted, “I'm just out here, dear one!” and Anakin let go a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding.

He stood and wrapped the sheet around his still naked body, holding it tight around his shoulders, and found Obi-Wan sitting on the couch in the next room, also still naked. Though unlike Anakin he hadn't taken the time to bother covering himself in any way.

When Anakin walked over, Obi-Wan held out his arms and guided him to straddle his lap, his hands immediately running up and down the expanse of his back under the sheet as Anakin leaned down to give him a quick kiss. “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” he sighed, keeping Anakin's face close to his, “perhaps only ten minutes longer than you.”

“You're worried.” Anakin stated, he could feel it.

Obi-Wan nodded, “The closer and closer it gets to the meeting with the Council, the more I fear it will not go well.”

“There is still time to change your mind,” Anakin reminded him again, “no matter what I will always be here, whether it's on Coruscant or Naboo.”

“My mind has not changed, my love. Naboo is our home, and it is the only path that will allow us to live the free life we deserve to live. That is where I want to be. I just know they will be disappointed.”

“They shouldn't be,” Anakin said, placing a hand on his cheek and rubbing his thumb soothingly, “this is your choice and they should respect it. If they don't, then it doesn't matter, because you will always have me, and Padmé, and you know that no matter what Qui-Gon will never be disappointed in you. What else matters after that?”

“You are right, Anakin,” he smiled up at him, “I need nothing more than that. And I think we should just get this over with so that we can go home, put everything else behind us and move forward.”

“I agree. What time are you supposed to meet Qui-Gon before we all speak with the Council?”

Obi-Wan looked at the time and sighed, “In about twenty minutes. So unfortunately there is no time for me to do anything about the fact that you are currently sitting on me, naked and beautiful.”

Anakin chuckled, then kissed him quickly again before pushing himself up to stand. “Let's get dressed then. And our ship back to Naboo isn’t leaving until tomorrow morning. So once the meeting is over you'll have all that time while we wait to do whatever you want to me, because as soon as we get back to this room later, my first kingly order is ‘no clothes shall be worn within the chambers’.”

Obi-Wan jumped up and ran after Anakin, lifting him into his arms with a squeal of laughter and running into the room. “Let's make this meeting as brief as possible then!”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dressed and finally leaving Obi-Wan’s chambers, they quickly made their way through the halls of the Temple. Despite knowing that no matter what the Council had to say wasn’t going to change anything, Obi-Wan still felt the nerves creeping slowly through his body the closer they got to the Council's chambers. Though having Anakin beside him was a bit of a comfort, easing him slightly, and the fact that he had been holding Anakin's hands since the moment they left his chambers was also helping ease things. But as they walked through the halls, eventually coming to pass a few of Obi-Wan’s fellow Jedi who as they passed, eyed their clasped hands with odd looks.

Anakin saw it, knew that Obi-Wan was being judged by people he had practically been raised with, his family, so he pulled his hand from Obi-Wan’s grasp just as they entered the elevator.

When the doors closed and they began their ascent to the Council, Obi-Wan turned to him. “What's wrong? Why did you let me go?”

“I saw how those other Jedi looked at you,” he explained, eyes down, “they looked at you holding my hand and they were not impressed. You already have so much to deal with right now with the Council, I just don't want to make things any harder for you. I can keep to myself until we are back on Naboo, I don't want your fellow Jedi to push you away because of me.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, closing in on him and placing a hand on his cheek, “I do not care. Let them see, I'm leaving the Order anyway, they might as well know it's because I fell in love with you.”

“But…” He shook his head, holding Obi-Wan’s hand tightly against his cheek, “I just don't want to be a problem.”

“You are not a problem, nor will you ever be,” he soothed, then reached down to take his hand again as they exited the elevator together, “let them all see us.”

It wasn't long after they left the elevator that they made it to the doors to the Council's chambers, where they found Qui-Gon just about to step inside. They both picked up their pace, Obi-Wan calling out for his master to wait.

“Master,” he said as they made it to where he was standing and waiting for them, “you were going to go inside without us?”

“I requested a private audience with Master Yoda and Master Windu, before you and Anakin join us,” he explained, “I will make sure they understand everything fully before you both come inside.”

“Master, please,” he reached out and grabbed his Master's arm, “we are ready to explain everything to the Council, allow us to join you.”

Qui-Gon merely smiled and lifted his hands to Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “I told you I would handle this when the time came, and now is that time. Allow me to be your Master this one last time.”

He felt Anakin squeeze his hand gently and tug him back. He nodded to his Master, still a bit awestruck at his words, then watched him turn and walk into the Council’s chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After explaining everything, Qui-Gon stood before the Council, calmly awaiting their reactions. He had told them everything, starting with the bond that had formed between his younger Padawan and the boy Prince all those years ago, the growing of their bond while isolated on Naboo, the events on the Sith homeworld including Obi-Wan’s victory over the dark side, and Anakin's momentary embodiment of the Force. He then ended it with the announcement that Obi-Wan intended to leave the Order and marry his bonded Prince. So far they had remained quiet, though Qui-Gon wasn't so sure that was a good thing.

Windu was the first to speak, leaning forward in his chair and rubbing his chin while he shook his head. “Obi-Wan has broken one of our most sacred vows. Attachments and emotions are paths to the dark side, we all know this. Obi-Wan allowed himself both, completely aware of the consequences, and in the end he fell to the dark side.”

“Yes, he did,” Qui-Gon nodded, “but in the end it was Anakin's love for him in return that helped Obi-Wan fight the dark side and return to the light. One could argue that it was attachment and emotion that was a path back to the Force.”

Windu regarded him, sighing deeply as he pursed his lips, then Yoda added, “A good point, Master Qui-Gon makes. But forgive the disobedience, we still cannot. Married, Obi-Wan will not be.”

“I do not think this is something you will deny him,” he shook his head, “Obi-Wan will not let Anakin go so easily again. If you deny him this, you will only face a continued disobedience.”

“It goes against everything we stand for as Jedi,” Windu stepped in, “if we allow him this request, what message does it send to the others within the Order?”

“I believe allowing such connections would only strengthen us, and I have witnessed this with my own two eyes. Anakin and Obi-Wan balance each other perfectly. Their love and happiness brings them both great strength, and though Obi-Wan fell to the dark side in order to save Anakin, at the same time he was able to restrain himself enough to only take in what he needed to defeat the Sith Lords, keeping the rest of the dark side at bay. And because of his attachment and need to be with Anakin, he was able to resist it and remove it from within his body. Without Anakin or their love for one another, my Padawan would not be with us right now.” Both Yoda and Windu were silent, and he could tell they were processing everything he had said to them. “If you allowed others within the Order to bond with another, with the same strength that is found in the bond Anakin and Obi-Wan share, I can assure you it will only enhance the Force that surrounds us all now, it will only make us better than we already are.”

Windu shook his head quietly for a moment, before looking up at Qui-Gon with sorrowful eyes. “It cannot be done, we can't change our ways now, Qui-Gon.”

“What if the Force demanded it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if the Force itself demanded Obi-Wan and Anakin be united, and their bond allowed to remain and continue to grow?” He asked. “What if the Force itself wanted the change?”

“More, you know?” Yoda asked, now leaning forward in his seat as well.

“If the Force did not want this, it would have never allowed them to bond in the first place,” he explained, looking between both Masters as he did, “I have felt the Force around them, it pushes them together, it does not want them to be apart. We may never be able to fully understand it, but Anakin and Obi-Wan being united and allowed to remain together is what the Force wants, feel it for yourself if you must,” he turned and gestured toward the door behind him, “they are waiting just outside.”

The two Masters looked to each other, a seemingly silent communication occurring between them, before Yoda hummed and turned back to Qui-Gon. “Feel it for ourselves, we shall. Call them in, will you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is taking him so long?” Obi-Wan was on the edge of his seat where they waited outside the Council’s chambers. Qui-Gon had been in there for over an hour, almost two by this point, and Obi-Wan was only becoming more and more anxious with each passing second.

Anakin reached over and placed his free hand, the one not still held in a death grip by Obi-Wan, on top of his rapidly bouncing knee. “I'm sure it's fine, he has a lot to explain to them after all.”

“What if they are refusing him, refusing us? What if he's been in there this long because he's trying to convince them to let us be married, and it's not working?”

“Qui-Gon is a very respected Jedi, I don't think they would just push him aside without hearing his reasoning for his request. And,” he smiled at Obi-Wan, leaning in a bit closer, “I have every confidence that if anyone can convince them that we should be together, it's Qui-Gon.”

As they were about to lean closer and close the gap for a quick kiss, the doors to the Council chambers opened and Qui-Gon was asking them to come inside. Obi-Wan was both relieved that the seemingly endless private meeting was over, but at the same time extremely nervous that his and Anakin’s time before the Council had come. Especially since he couldn’t manage to decipher a single indication as to how the meeting had gone, his Master was keeping everything to himself it seemed.

Just as he had expected, when they walked in, Obi-Wan was regarded with harsh and unnerving stares from both Masters. But he stood strong beside Qui-Gon, with Anakin at his side still holding his hand.

Yoda hummed as they stood before him, closing his eyes and saying, “Feel what you speak of, I do, Master Qui-Gon. Feel it do you, Master Windu?”

He too closed his eyes for a moment. “I do. It is a strong bond you both carry.”

“Look deeper into the bond, I wish to do.” Yoda opened his eyes and looked to both Obi-Wan and Anakin. “Meditate with us, will you?”

Obi-Wan nodded and dropped to his knees, tugging on Anakin's hand when he just stood there, not knowing what to do. “Come, Anakin, sit on your knees beside me.” He did, and then Obi-Wan whispered, “Just close your eyes and clear your mind.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Windu following right behind him, and the four of them sat there for what felt to Anakin like a lifetime. Before finally he heard Yoda hum and Obi-Wan squeezed his hand to let him know he could open his eyes again. Then he sat there for what felt like a second lifetime while the two Masters remained in silent contemplation, occasionally turning toward each other but never actually saying a word between them.

Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s anxiousness over it, and as much as he had been telling him over the last few days that all would be fine, he couldn't deny he was feeling it too. But then finally Master Yoda turned to them, his hands clutched over the top of his walking stick, regarding them with a very serious look.

“Right, Master Qui-Gon is. Broken, this bond can never be.” The words sent a flood of relief through both of them, perhaps there was some hope still left. Then Yoda turned to Windu again. “Closer than marriage, the two already are.”

Windu nodded, rubbing his chin again in thought. “It is true.” He looked past the two still kneeling on the floor and over to Qui-Gon behind them. “The Force is pushing them together, as you said, and that we cannot deny.” Then he sighed, sat back, and turned to Yoda once more. “It is a change we were not expecting, but we can't go against the Force's wishes.”

“Agree with you, I do,” he nodded to Windu, then looked at Obi-Wan and Anakin and pointed to them, “blessed by the Council, this union shall be.”

Both of them broke out in instant smiles, a little breathless and all together overwhelmed. “So you… you’ll allow us to be married then?” Obi-Wan asked.

Yoda nodded again and actually smiled at them. “Allow it, we will. The will of the Force, it is. Congratulations on your nuptials, in order are.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda!” Obi-Wan beamed as he stood and helped Anakin up with him, who also profusely thanked them as well.

“Yes, congratulations to you both, it would seem the Force favors each of you greatly. You should be honoured.” He smiled at them as well. “Perhaps it was time for changes. And since we are allowing this, we had better be invited to the wedding.”

“Of course!” Anakin nearly shouted, his joyous emotions getting a little bit away from him. “You will both be most welcomed to the wedding, along with any other Jedi who wish to attend.”

They both bowed to the Masters then turned to leave, but Yoda quickly called Obi-Wan back for one last word before he would let one of his best and most cherished friends leave him.

“Yes, Master?” Obi-Wan asked when he turned back.

“A good king to Naboo, you had better be. A fool of me, you will not make.” He pointed a finger at him in a warning way, but he was smiling at his friend as he said it. He knew Obi-Wan would not disappoint him.

Obi-Wan smiled back, let go of Anakin's hand and walked over to kneel in front of Master Yoda. “I promise, I will not let you down, Master.” Then he lifted a hand to place over top of Yoda’s, the older Master placing his other over top of Obi-Wan’s in return. “After the wedding, you must visit us on Naboo. Our home will always be open to you.”

“Visit you, I shall, and miss you, very much I will.”

He smiled at his Master and friend, and feeling the tears starting to well in his eyes, took that as his sign to leave.

Once they were outside the chamber doors he let the tears freely flow, finally feeling relief after days of worrying. Not only was he free and able to openly be with Anakin, to marry his love, but they had been blessed by the Council, and by the sounds of it were the start of some great changes ahead for the Order. He had never been happier.

Overwhelmed by an explosion of joy within him, he turned and whisked Anakin into his arms, twirling him around while they both laughed and let a few tears fall between them. “Wait, wait,” Anakin said, patting Obi-Wan’s back so he would put him down, then turned to Qui-Gon who was watching them happily, “Master Qui-Gon, we owe you everything. Thank you for making our case and convincing them to let Obi-Wan and I get married.”

“You don't have to thank me,” he waved Anakin off, “in the end it was your own bond that convinced them. I just nudged them in the right direction.”

“Anakin's right, Master,” Obi-Wan stepped forward and pulled his Master into a tight hug, “thank you.”

“You know I would do anything for you, Obi-Wan, for both of you.” He pulled back from Obi-Wan, thumbing away a tear that had stalled just above his beard, then stepped back. “Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have an appointment with the Queen. You two should head back up to Obi-Wan’s chambers and make sure you have everything prepared for the transport back to Naboo tomorrow morning. Oh, and congratulations to you both.”

They watched him leave, then turned in the opposite direction to do just as he said and head back to Obi-Wan’s chambers. Though preparing for the transport home was the last thing on their mind.

“Dear one,” Obi-Wan chimed as he took Anakin's hand in his on their way back, “I know I am not yet a King nor am I a Prince, but… since I am to be a King soon enough, does this entail me to make kingly orders as well?”

Anakin smirked, knowing exactly the track his mind was taking and shrugged, “I suppose. What is your kingly order then?”

Obi-Wan smirked to himself then leaned in to whisper, “While your first kingly order entailed no clothes to be worn in the chambers, my first order shall be to decree that when we get back to my chambers and our clothes are off, I want you to ride me on the couch. Since you're sitting on my lap naked this morning, it has been the only thing I can think about.”

A shiver quickly ran its way through Anakin's body, and an overpowering sensation of lust was sent both ways across the bond. Anakin gripped tighter to Obi-Wan’s hand and whispered back a very quick, “Agreed,” before tugging Obi-Wan through the halls at a run, this time not caring who saw them holding hands or giggling as they went.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Qui-Gon took the elevator all the way up to one of the highest floors within the Temple spires. It was never pleasant visiting the Pyre Room.

When the doors opened Padmé was already there waiting for him, a strong look held over her features, though Qui-Gon could see the slivers of sorrow and grief slipping through. “Padmé,” he greeted, and she looked up to him, “my apologies for my lateness.”

“It's no problem,” she answered softly.

Not wanting to make her wait any longer or linger within her nerves, he asked, “Are you ready?”

She just nodded, and allowed him to lead her further into the room with a hand on her back. They walked over to a door which Qui-Gon walked forward and opened for her, and she hesitated a moment to take a breath before walking inside.

She slowly wandered over to the table that was placed in the center of the room, covered in a long white cloth, and stood at the head of it. “This is him?”

Qui-Gon nodded and walked forward to grab the cloth, but looked up at her before moving any further. “You're sure?” He asked, and when she nodded in confirmation, her eyes never leaving the table, he slowly pulled back the cloth revealing Gregar’s face.

She took in a shuddering breath, eyes blinking furiously to fight back a sudden onslaught of tears. She reached out a shaking hand, slowly and ever so gently placing it over his pale cheek, recoiling at the chill of his skin. It wasn't unexpected, but it was still a shock. He was once so warm, so loving, so alive. Seeing him like this, it was an emptiness that she couldn't explain, that she knew would never leave her. He had left such a mark on both her and Anakin's lives, it was only right that her heart felt as shattered as it did right now.

“When I saw him fall, back in the Senate,” she began, letting a few tears fall from her cheeks to blend in with Gregar’s hairline, “he died in my arms but seeing him here, now, and feeling how cold he is… it's like I'm being forced to finally accept the fact that he's gone, and it's so strange to think of how it will be now. He won't be by my side anymore, no longer will I hear his voice within the Palace or in my ear, giving me his own opinions on matters of diplomacy or politics, he won't be there to look after Anakin any more-” She choked back a sob, lifting a hand to her mouth to try and stifle it. “I can’t believe he's gone.”

Qui-Gon walked over and pulled her into a hug. “He will be greatly missed, but you must know that he will always be with you. You must hold on to the good memories you have with him and cherish them always.”

She nodded against his chest, then pulled back to wipe at her eyes before turning to stare down at Gregar again. “Anakin will struggle with this,” she said, “he wanted to come and see him, but I told him to wait. The funeral will be hard enough on him as it is, he was very close to Gregar.”

“I know, and it was probably for the best that he didn't come. And myself and Obi-Wan will be there for the funeral, you will have the support of both of us.”

“Thank you, Qui-Gon,” she gifted him a small appreciative smile, “I've contacted my Council members on Naboo, they've already begun the funeral arrangements. Everything will be ready when we arrive and the funeral will be held the next day.”

“I will be there, as will several members of the Council.” She turned to him. “They wish to pay their respects to the man who helped defeat the Sith.”

“That means a lot, and I know it would mean a lot to Gregar as well.” She leaned down and placed a gentle, almost nonexistent kiss on his head, leaving her lips close as she whispered, “Thank you, dear Gregar, for everything you did for us, and for saving Anakin. We will never forget you.”

Qui-Gon gave her a few more moments of peace while she stood quietly over Gregar. When she was ready she nodded to him and he stepped forward to cover his face again, then he held his arm out for her to take and led her back to the elevator.

Once they were inside and on their way away from the Pyre Room, she squeezed his arm and asked, “How did the meeting with the Council go? Did they accept Obi-Wan and Anakin?”

“They did, though not without some convincing, but they have agreed to let Obi-Wan leave the Order and have blessed his marriage to Anakin,” he smiled down at her, “they even insisted they be invited to the wedding.”

She laughed, “Finally some good news, and they will be more than welcome at the wedding. I will even contact them personally with the invitation when the arrangements are made.”

“They will be pleased,” he smiled.

When they made it to her chambers, she thanked him for everything before opening the door, then asked, “Will I be seeing you in the morning if you are to be accompanying us back to Naboo?”

He nodded, “I will meet you here and escort you down to the hanger, we will meet Obi-Wan and Anakin at the transport, and the Jedi will bring Gregar.”

“Thank you again, Qui-Gon,” she said as she turned and walked inside the room, “good night.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I know this is a bit of a longer chapter (though I’m sure no one’s complaining lol) but I wanted to keep their time on Coruscant all together in one chapter, and it made sense for chapters. Anyways, I hope it was enjoyed <3

Tags: @peaches-n-pancakes

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thesassypadawan · 7 months ago

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So Uncivilized (Master Obi-Wan x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: After a long mission all Obi wants is a good rest. Too bad that will have to wait. You ‘accidently’ left something of yours in his sleep couch…and got your poor master all hot and bothered. Oppsies!

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Panties, masturbation, some good time riding, and Obi’s big, fat cock. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: A little something for @fluentlyspeakingtreason! It was truly a pleasure to write this! As soon as I read your ask, I knew exactly what do! I had a lot of fun with it, cannot not emphasize that enough! Hope you like it! 💙

Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan plopped down on his sleep couch. It had been a long mission and, what felt like, an even longer debriefing with the council. All he had craved from the moment he set foot back on Coruscant was a good rest and, finally, he was able to do so.

Having stripped down to nothing, he pulled back the covers and was met by the very ‘interesting’ surprise of…your panties.

True, a master shouldn’t know what their padawan wears beneath those robes. However you had, on more than one occasion, forgotten them in the fresher after you were done. Leaving Obi flushed in the face, head full of ‘thoughts’, and, well, painfully hard.

Despite all of that, he never dared act on these ‘thoughts’. Always pretending he didn’t see them and, to his great dismay, letting them remain behind. Because of the whole jedi code, you being his padawan, and what not.

That is until today though…

Not sure whether it was the lack of sleep, temptation getting the best of him, or maybe both. Either way, Obi-Wan found himself taking the small, lacey pair into his hands. Bringing them to his face and…

He groaned as he inhaled your heavenly scent. Mouth watering as he lapped at the tacky spot of your arousal that you so kindly gifted to him. “Maker, you’re a sweet one.”

Once they were licked clean, he wrapped them around his hard cock. Eyes closing as he began to pump himself. Imagining how your face would contort in ecstasy, while he pounded into you. How you would clench around him, head thrown back as you begged for…

“I’ve been looking for those!”

Obi’s eyes snapped open in surprise. He had been so caught up in his fantasy that he didn’t even hear the door sliding open. “Little one, I… Well, you see… Why are you naked?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you giggled softly. “Obviously because I couldn’t find my panties. Come on, master, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I-I-I…” Was all he could manage to stutter out. He was flustered beyond belief. Face on fire from embarrassment. Cock twitching at the fact that you caught him in such a deprave act.

“Anyway,” you purred, snatching your lingerie off him. “Thanks for keeping them warm for me.”

Winking playfully, you kissed his oozing tip and turned to leave. But were stopped when…

“And where do you think you’re going?” Obi-Wan growled, an iron grip on your wrist.

He watched as a mischievous grin crossed your face. “I was going to put some clothes on. You know since I found my panties.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Grasping your hips firmly, he pulled you down on top of him. Crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Forcing your knees on either side of his thighs.

“You’ve misbehaved, padawan of mine.” He reached between your bodies. Taking hold of himself and placing his fat head at your already soaked entrance. “And you’re not leaving here until you’ve been thoroughly punished.”

“Is that so?” You cooed, grinding your hips into him nice and slow. “Prove it then.”

He merely smirked and with a subtle persuasion of the force, Obi had you slowly sinking down on his impressive length. Stretching out your pussy as he made you take girthy inch after girthy inch. Until he bottomed out.

“Master,” you happily mewled, rubbing the slight bulge in your stomach. “So big, master.”

“Darling,” he scolded, large hand grazing over your little bump. “This is punishment, not enjoyment. Do you understand?”

He felt you squirm under his touch. “Yes, master,” you whimpered, giving a slight nod as you bit your lip.

“Excellent.” His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Now be my good girl and take everything I give you.”

Snapping his hips, Obi-Wan slammed up into you. Making your cry out in pleasure, already desperately clamping down on him.

“So tight.” Using his hands, he moved you up and down. “So wet.” Bucking wildly, hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you. “And so naughty.”

He was bouncing you on his cock by this point. Hips thrusting at a ruthless pace as he lifted you effortlessly. Bullying and bruising your cervix over and over.

“M-Master,” you whined, your walls fluttering around him. “I’m so c-close…”

“Already?” Obi grunted, his hips beginning to falter. “All right, dear one, you may… cum.”

Tugging you down hard on his cock, he somehow buried himself even deeper. Groaning as you clenched him wonderfully, while he stuffed your pussy deliciously full of his hot cum.

“Well then,” he chuckled, noticing the satisfied smile you wore. “You certainly looked pleased with yourself.”

“You bet ya,” you giggled, pressing a fiery kiss to his lips. “Think I’ll have to misplace my panties more often.”

“So uncivilized,” Obi-Wan growled, emphasizing his point with a good, hard thrust.

Tag List: @cacti5539

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uyuartik · 9 months ago

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bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature.

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours. “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles. He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.

“Well, apology accepted.”

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around.

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.”

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway?

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer."

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite.

"I'll be there."

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day.

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.

It is still completely the same.

===

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up.

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?"

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy."

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle.

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm.

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him-

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch.

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further.

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration.

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake…

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.”

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.”

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

“And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-”

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled.

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said?

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it.

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind. “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation.

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh.

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him.

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety.

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason.

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.”

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball.

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension.

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-”

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest.

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface.

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point.

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything!

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.” You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him.

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange.

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute.

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.”

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair.

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him.

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.”

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride.

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp, “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.”

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets. “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?”

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.”

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over.

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.”

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection.

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right?

Oh my God, it is.

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with. “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.”��

“Is there?”

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good.

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close?

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.”

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.

“I’m waiting, darling.” You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin.

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time.

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows.

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.”

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room.

Though he has no rush to join you.

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him.

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that.

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.” And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.”

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax.

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better.

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance.

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him.

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do.

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big.

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent.

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too. “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.”

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-”

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.”

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily?

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already.

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on.

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan.

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light.

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant.

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self.

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks.

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.”

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out.

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind.

“Darling?”

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind.

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.”

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail.

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?”

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads.

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

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where-fantasy-meets-reality · 1 year ago

Text

“We’re Not Promised Tomorrow” Chapter 18 “A Moment Ruined.”

Pairing: Obi-Wan x Fem. OC

W/C: 6.0 K

Warnings: Smut scene at the beginning of the chapter. Nudity, oral receiving. The ending of the chapter contains lightsaber fighting, blood, and hurt characters...Definitely a chapter to read at your own risk.

A/N: This was a fun chapter to write and kind of breaks the cycle of the episodic chapters as this arc should play out for another chapter or two. Continuing to develop these two is a lot of fun. As always I appreciate all the support and enjoy.

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The rain fell onto the Coruscant skyline in sheets. The buildings that made up the view were barely visible in the thick fog and pouring rain. Thunder clapped as lightning flashed in the sky. The raindrops pelted against the windows of Emily’s apartment, filling the room with the sounds of the pitter-patter of the drops.

Emily stood looking out of her wall of glass. She was dressed casually, in a pair of black sparring pants and a white sleeveless undershirt. Her brown hair tumbled down her back in loose, wide waves.

She sighed contentedly as she watched the rain fall. It hardly ever rained on Coruscant. The weather had been particularly hot and humid, so the storm was only natural. She loved it when the weather was like this and she didn’t have to go anywhere; to just sit in her apartment and enjoy the sound of the rain as it hit the windows.

She hugged her arms around herself as she thought of how perfect everything had been lately. How things were going between her and Obi-Wan. His mission in Zygerria had lasted for two and half weeks. Not being able to talk to him or see him during that time drove her mad with worry and want. Once he arrived back at the Temple, he was whisked away for another mission. She hadn’t even seen him before he had to leave. They had settled for a quick comlink call as his ship jumped to Hyperspace. He wouldn’t return for the next 5 days.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Obi-Wan stepped out of her room. He caught her staring out of the window. Oh, how he had missed her. She looked so calm and relaxed there, her arms wrapped around herself as she took in the view. She must have been thinking of something because she hadn’t noticed he’d come out. She was so beautiful to him.

He had just arrived back from his most recent mission. Between Zygerria and his week-long mission in the Outer Rim, he thought he would combust if he didn’t see her soon.

He walked up behind her and wrapped her in his strong arms. He was shirtless, the warmth of his skin against hers made her sigh as she relaxed into him. He wore only the same black sparring pants that she did. He kissed the side of her head.

“I missed you.” He whispered into her ear.

She leaned her head back against his chest and looked up at him. “I missed you too. I can’t believe it's been almost four weeks since I last saw you.”

“Far too long. Hopefully, something like that won’t happen again. Or at least if it does, it’s not for a while.”

He lowered his head, kissing her lips slowly and purposefully; as if he was memorizing them. As he kissed her, he ran his hands over her body.

He swallowed the noises she made with his kiss. His hands eventually stopped exploring her and settled on her breasts. She leaned fully into him, harder than before and placed her hands over his, aiding him in his efforts.

If he kept this up she was going to burst; their Force Signatures were buzzing with emotion around them. It was enough to make them feel drunk with passion, to be able to feel each other's pleasure so intensely.

She could feel his arousal, his pleasure knowing that he was making her happy. He was always so selfless with her.

Emboldened by the moment, she broke off the kiss and turned in his arms to face him. Emily threw her arms around him and pulled him into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. She ran her hands through his hair because she knew it drove him mad. He crushed her to himself as he kissed her with fervor.

She started pushing him backward, still locked in a kiss. Obi-Wan, not sure what she was doing, decided to trust her. He allowed her to move him backward, still holding her and kissing her. Eventually, his legs made contact with the couch and he fell back onto it.

Obi-Wan gained control of his breathing as he sat on the couch. Emily hovered over him, a wicked smile on her face.

She leaned in for what he thought was a kiss, but their lips never met. Emily kept going lower until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him. Her brown eyes looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“Oh no, don’t....” He tried to sit up as he spoke but Emily gently pushed him back using the Force.

“I know I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to Master Kenobi.” She spoke seductively as she lowered his pants.

She pleasured him with her mouth. He sank into the couch, his mind completely numb. He could feel his heart racing, his blood coursing through his veins. Every movement and sensation from her was pure torture and bliss at the same time. He balled his fists into the couch cushions, gripping them forcefully to steady himself. He felt bashful at how much he was enjoying this. He would never suggest something like this, he normally found this action demeaning. And yet, for something so demeaning not only was he enjoying it more than he cared to, but Emily was very enthusiastic about performing her best; something that secretly turned him on. Emily was always the more adventurous of the two of them; it was one of the things he loved about her.

After a while, Emily rose and straddled him, replacing her hand where her mouth had once been, continuing her work. She kissed him passionately. He ran his hands through her hair as she continued to pleasure him.

He tried to keep his vocal enthusiasm to a minimum, still feeling shy, but she was starting to overwhelm him.

He was going to explode if he didn’t stop her. He was seriously afraid of having a Force reaction and breaking the couch, or something far worse or embarrassing happening.

Obi-Wan gently grabbed her hand and stilled it. He kissed her as he laced his fingers with hers. Picking her up, he turned around so that he could place her on the couch.

He gently laid her down and hovered over her. “My love, you can’t do that to me, it won’t end well.” His voice was breathy and hushed. His face was flushed and his skin was hot.

Emily chuckled and ran her hands through his hair, “well, you started it.” She loved to get him worked up.

He tilted his head to the side, a roguish expression on his face. Emily had never seen that look on him before, it made her heart hammer with anticipation and excitement.

He was clearly in a playful mood.

“Oh, this is my fault?” He said as his hand skimmed its way down her body leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin, and dipped into her pants, in between her legs.

He stopped his hand just as it was between her legs. His eyes focused on hers, asking permission.

“Forcesakes this man will be the death of me!” Emily screamed to herself.

Even in the middle of teasing her and after multiple sexual interactions, he still felt the need to have her permission before touching her intimately.

She looked into his gorgeous eyes as she leaned up to hold his face. “Please.” She kissed him gently.

He found her center, immediately performing the same ministrations on her that she had done to him. He drew his fingers in slow, deliberate circles over her most sensitive spot.

Emily became very vocal, very quickly. He kissed her, once again swallowing the noises she was making. They were still in the Temple after all, and this was not the ideal situation for them to be caught in.

She kissed him passionately as if he was her life source. Every move of his hand sent waves of pleasure through her body that made her shudder. The moans came tumbling from her lips only to be swallowed by him. As he pleasured her she was reduced to moaning and shaking in his arms; running her hands through his hair, her lips tethered to his, completely lost in him; allowing only his arm to support her. Now she understood why they couldn’t do this to each other, it was simply too much.

She grabbed his hand and took it into hers. She jumped up on him so that she was sitting in his lap again. As she straddled him, she awkwardly removed her pants and her top, causing him to giggle at her.

“Master Kenobi, if you're going to insist on teasing a girl like that, then you had best be prepared to deliver in the end.” Her lips hovered above his as she spoke. She spoke in gasps, trying to recover from the spell that he had placed her under.

She ground her hips into his, causing a vocal reaction from both of them.

He made love to her right there on the couch. Their movements were full of tenderness and passion. Pent-up frustration and want from not seeing each other for weeks at a time.

Their relationship always was filled with wonderfully long conversations, trust, and intellect; even as friends it had been that way. However, neither could deny how the physicalness of their relationship had developed. They simply saw it as a natural collimation of their love.

When they were finished, they sat tangled in each other on the couch. Eventually, they decided that they both could use a shower, especially after their activities. However, this only led to a repeat performance of what took place on the couch. Moving to the bedroom afterward didn’t help the situation either.

They lay in each other's arms, exhausted from their endless rounds of physical fun. The sound of the rain hitting Emily’s bedroom was the only noise that could be heard.

“Maybe if we saw each other more, this wouldn’t happen.” Obi-Wan mused.

“I don’t think so. I think at this point If we did see each other more, then it would just happen more often.” As she spoke she ran her hand over his arm, slowly drawing circles into his skin.

They were both full of smiles and giggles.

“How did we do this before? I feel like I can’t be next to you for more than two minutes without wanting to touch you in some way. Even if it's just holding your hand.” He ran his hand down the side of her cheek as he spoke.

He took her other hand into his own and kissed her wrist. The cuffs that Maul had used on her had left slight scars. He always made it a point to kiss her there, on her wrists. He secretly hoped one day his kisses would replace the scars; he knew it couldn’t happen but he would never stop trying.

“We didn’t know any better, or at least I didn’t. If I had suspected for a second that you felt the same as me, I would have told you or tried something sooner, Mr. Perfect Jedi. You played your hand so close to your chest all those years, I had no idea.”

“No, we certainly didn’t. And, l was seduced and manipulated by you. You always were the more delinquent of the two of us. I was simply taken advantage of by your lack of control of your emotions and attachments...”

Before he could fully finish his playful teasing he received a hard pillow strike to the face. She roared with laughter as she was coming back for a repeat attack, but he grabbed the pillow from her and threw it on the floor.

He disarmed her with a kiss, he could play that game too. After all, it worked every time.

Eventually, they fell asleep to the sound of the rain. The morning would come too soon for the both of them. She had a class to teach with another Temple Healer and he had an early morning Council Meeting. If either of them were late to their appointments, it wouldn’t look good.

Saying goodbye was the hardest part that neither of them looked forward to. Obi-Wan placed his hands on her possessively as he kissed her; one around the back of her neck and the other around her hips, drawing him to her. Trying to capture this moment in his brain in every way possible until he could do it again.

She loved it when he kissed her like this. She would throw her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. She would replay these moments over in her mind when she wouldn’t see him for days.

He left her apartment early. He didn’t want anyone seeing him coming out of it at this time, in the early morning hours. It would raise suspicions and they had made it this far with no incidents. Now was not the time to get sloppy.

When he reached his apartment, he showered and changed his clothes, putting on a fresh tunic and robes.

As he walked to the Council Chambers he thought of how lucky he was to have a woman like her in his life. How kind, strong, and gentle she was.

Every time he saw her, it was becoming harder for him to leave; especially when he didn’t know when he was going to see her again.

Still, as he walked on, there was an extra spring in his step and he felt like was on top of the world. He had his two best friends who were always by his side when he needed them to be. He had the most amazing women in his life who shared his feelings. Lastly, he was a Jedi Master. The only other thing he loved in the world more than the three people in his life.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The buzzer blasted through the Arena. The terrain shifted. The trees and jungles melted into a high-tech city center. Various buildings replaced hanging vines. Broken speeder parts and hard-surfaced streets were now where rocks and lush grass had been. Smog and smoke replaced the clean and fresh tropical air.

“Round 10!” The robotic voice echoed throughout the Arena.

The buzzer sounded again signaling the start.

Destroyer Droids came rolling down the main city street. B1 Battle Droids appeared on rooftops in the distance, weapons aimed in the direction that the Destroyers were heading.

Obi-Wan looked out of the corner of his eye confidently at Emily; a look she returned.

Emily Force leaped into the air and landed on a building rooftop. As she flew through the air, she called back to him.

“LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN KEEP UP WITH ME!”

He smirked.

“Oh My Darling, I can keep up with you all day.” He mused as he Force Ran down the main street towards the Destroyer Droids.

It had been years since they went through any kind of exercise or training together. Each one had developed their own sets of talents and became Masters of the Force as opposed to the fumbling Padawans they once were.

Emily elegantly leaped from rooftop to rooftop making quick work of the droids, her green blade glowing as she sliced through them.

Obi-Wan used a combination of saber and Force techniques to break through the Destroyer Droid shields and crush them.

After he had destroyed several of them, he looked up to find Emily. He could see that she was almost done and that she had one rooftop left.

Obi-Wan used the Force to run quickly to the building and up its walls; leaping halfway through his run.

His blue-bladed lightsaber sliced through the last B1 Battle Droid just as Emily landed on the rooftop.

She was huffing and out of breath as she spoke. “That one was mine.”

He gave her a self-satisfied expression in return. “Well my dear, you told me to keep up with you. If I had waited for you to finish with these Droids, we would have been here all night. All that teaching and work in the Medical Wing has made you slow.”

She gave him a mock horrified expression. She would fix him. It was later in the evening and they were alone in the Arena; something she was about to take full advantage of.

She sauntered over to him, overly swinging her hips as she approached him.

He swallowed hard, the effect not lost on him. She was always playing dirty lately, he noticed.

As she approached him she took his bearded chin in between her thumb and index finger and pulled him down for a gentle peck.

He happily allowed her to guide him down to her lips.

“Well thank goodness a strong Jedi Master like yourself was around to save the day. I might still be slashing through droids if it weren’t for a hero like yourself.” She taunted him as she spoke.

The buzzer blasted again, the end of another round. Obi-Wan scooped Emily up into his arms and jumped down onto the flat surface of the Arena just as the building collapsed quickly to the floor.

“ROUND 11!” An automated voice sounded through the arena.

The arena instantly became hot, a blazing sun rising through the air. Dunes of sand sprang up from the floor. Large gray battle droids rose up from the sand, marching immediately toward the couple. There must have been at least 100.

Obi-Wan gently placed Emily on her feet and ignited his lightsaber. “Ladies first.” He motioned towards the oncoming droids.

She activated her lightsaber. “You just need someone to clear a path for you.” She winked at him as she took off at a run.

He was incredibly turned on by her actions. He would never understand how someone so gentle and compassionate who healed people could be such a fierce and strong warrior.

This time there were no buildings to leap between and the sand made it difficult to run and navigate the terrain. It may have been a while since they had trained together, but their bond they shared through the Force made up for lost time. Years of knowing each other, being so in tune with one another, they knew exactly what the other would do in battle.

Without saying a word to each other, they decided that working together would be the most efficient way of ending this round.

Their movements mimicked a coordinated ballet. They swiftly moved around one another, blocking the other from oncoming fire and keeping each other safe. They worked in patterns.

They each approached the last battle Droid from opposite sides.

Blue and green blades plunged into the last droid at the same time.

Their actions had brought them physically within inches of each other, their panting breaths mingling.

“How many rounds did we sign up for?” She panted.

He chuckled, “I think round 12 is the last one.”

The Buzzer echoed loudly. “ROUND 12” the voice boomed.

“Thank the Maker.” Emily sighed.

The sand blew away. The Arena went back to its normal state. Levels and platforms rose from the floor of various heights and sizes, but no droids appeared.

The two looked at each other with mischievous glints in their eyes.

They were each other's opponents.

“This should be a quick round,” Emily said confidently as she shifted into her ready stance.

“My darling, you always were a dreamer.” He sounded amused, one eyebrow raised, as he stood in his stance, saber held above his head.

She knew he wouldn’t attack her first; he was always a gentleman. Therefore she gracefully but swiftly swung at him initiating the battle.

They dueled each other. He blocked all of her movements as she advanced on him.

They may have had to fight each other for the round, but the battle was anything but serious. They taunted and teased one another verbally as they leaped from platform to platform.

At one point Obi-Wan turned the battle into a game of cat and mouse; eventually allowing her to “catch him.”

He knew he could physically outmatched her any day; of the two of them, he was taller and stronger. However, what she lacked in size and brute strength she made up for in saber technique and knowledge of the Force. If this were a real fight, they would be evenly matched.

Obi-Wan was becoming fatigued. It had been a long day and he could think of better things to do with Emily than play fighting with her in the Arena. He would much rather go back to his apartment and talk to her while she fell asleep in his arms. Besides, they both had put in a serious effort in the prior 11 rounds, so he didn’t feel so bad about wanting to quit.

Obi-Wan drew her into a false set of moves on purpose. Surprisingly, she took the bait. He quickly and efficiently disarmed her. He caught her lightsaber as it flew from her hand and pointed both his and hers at her chest, shocking her that she had lost.

“And that My Dear, is the match point.” He declared. Deactivating both sabers, he handed hers back.

“Well look at you, I never expected you to be one fake out your opponent.”

They both jumped off the platform and onto the floor as the Arena leveled out, the platforms disappearing.

“War teaches you many lessons and tactics, especially if you want to live.” He spoke as he turned to her.

“Especially some of the battles you’ve been in General Kenobi…. Well, that certainly was a good workout.”

He stepped into her as he spoke in a low tone, “I agree, it was rather productive. It felt good to get some practice in. Now, however, I am much more interested in a shower with you and then holding you in my arms until you fall asleep.”

She blushed. She was about to kiss him when they were suddenly interrupted. They hadn’t heard or sensed anyone previously. She quickly backed away from him, not wanting to get themselves caught. Someone was walking into the Arena and was applauding them.

“Well done you two, well done indeed! Although I am surprised that you lost Emily, you usually fight better than that; you must be getting sloppy and distracted.”

Sorv walked fully into the Arena, still clapping. His black robes moved around him as he walked. He stopped about a quarter of the way in the Arena with plenty of distance between him and them.

Obi-Wan instinctively moved in front of Emily, his hand out behind him indicating for her to stay back. He didn’t want Sorv anywhere near her. His eyes never left the man in front of him.

“What do you want, Sorv?” Emily called from behind Obi-Wan.

“Oh, I’ve been watching since Round 9. You didn’t see me up in the observation area?” He turned and pointed to the stands above.

No, they hadn’t. They were too engrossed in each other, in enjoying their moments.

“You two fought interestingly. Looked more like a show. I usually don’t allow my opponent to have as much fun when I’m fighting them.” Sorv jeered his words at them, criticizing them.

“She asked you a question,” Obi-Wan spoke with authority in his voice.

He was not in “lover” mode anymore. Now he was in battle mode, channeling the General that he was when he was on the field. Emily was what he was protecting and Sorv was his target.

Sorv needed to be very careful about how far he pushed Obi-Wan, he could tell that much. He could see the look in his eyes. They were an arctic color, like they were made of ice.

“Good, I have you right where I want you Kenobi. I heard you're sloppy when you're angry.” Sorv complimented himself.

“Since when did you speak for Emily, Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan’s chest puffed up as he breathed in deeply, and his eyes became even colder as he took in Sorv. He would never be so toxically masculine as to speak for Emily without her consent and he wanted to punch Sorv in the face for even insinuating that he would treat her that way.

However, before Obi-Wan could respond, Sorv kept talking.

“Never mind, that is neither here nor there, and not why I stopped in. I came in to ask if I could challenge the winner. Emily usually defeats me easily enough in a sparring session. But you defeated her this time. I’d love to see what technique proved to be too much for her?”

Sorv remained eerily calm and collected as he challenged Obi-Wan, his hands resting at attention in front of him. His stance was casual but upright. He knew that if stayed level-headed he’d have a better chance of Kenobi accepting his challenge.

“No that’s not ness...” Emily started speaking but she was interrupted.

“I accept!” Obi-Wan called back, making sure his voice carried through the Arena so there would be no mistaking his answer.

“NO!” Emily shouted forcefully from behind Obi-Wan.

She walked up to him and tugged his arm that was closest to her. “What are you trying to prove?!?”

Obi-Wan turned to look at her and saw an emotion in her large brown eyes that he had never seen before; anger.

It momentarily distracted him. He blinked the distraction away, refocusing. He hadn’t thought that she would be angry at him. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he cared that she was angry about him accepting the challenge. This creep was starting to become a nuisance and if he wanted to challenge him then he would gladly accept an opportunity to put him in his place. He could more than certainly handle himself. What was she afraid of?

However, he was proving something, and he admitted it silently to himself. Emily was his and it was his job to defend her and her honor. He wasn’t possessive of her, but he never liked the way Sorv treated her. He had regretfully allowed the man to disrespect her in front of him more than once, and it had never sat well with him. It was his job to see to it that no one harmed her or hurt her; in any way, including someone being disrespectful to her. He had told Sorv once before that if he did it again, he would have to answer him and Obi-Wan didn’t make empty threats.

“I’m not proving anything. He asked to challenge the winner, and I disarmed you. Therefore that makes me the winner, and I accept his challenge.” He spoke slowly and evenly.

He really didn’t want her to be mad at him. It wasn’t something that was going to change his mind but it would be something they would have to talk about afterward; a conversation he was not looking forward to.

“Excellent! Glad to see you're not a coward Kenobi; like our friend Emily is. It’s alright, My Dear, you can stand off to the side and be our cheering section.” Sorv replied as he took off his black robe and put it on the sidelines.

Emily ignored the fact that he had used Obi-Wan’s nickname for her. However, she felt Obi-Wan tense at his word choice, as he just glared at his opponent with ice-colored eyes.

Her eyes bore into Obi-Wan’s. She leaned into him, tugged harder on his arm, and spoke in a hushed, gravelly tone. “You know he’s unhinged. There isn’t something right with him! This isn’t going to be a normal sparring match!”

Emily could tell by his demeanor that he was in a no-nonsense mood and that he was just as angry as she was at the interruption. She knew he was a good fighter, but she also knew that Sorv had gone unchecked for too long.

Sorv was conniving enough to have been waiting for a situation like this one to arise; one where he could get them alone. It was late and the Temple was quiet. They were alone in the Arena. Emily wasn’t a fool, she could tell since the day Sorv met Obi-Wan that he had been itching to challenge him and that he wouldn’t fight fair, and she knew that Obi-Wan would fight fair. That’s what she was afraid of.

Obi-Wan placed his free hand on hers, lifting it off of his arm. His eyes were still the color of ice. If Sorv further ruined his night with Emily by putting them at odds with one another, he was going to make sure he beat him just for the inconvenience of ruining his night.

“The challenge has been accepted.” He replied, speaking clearly.

Emily threw her hands up, exasperated, and stormed off the sidelines. She turned to face the two men from her position, her arms folded against her chest. Her expression was irritated as she watched the two Jedi.

Sorv walked over to Obi-Wan and the two men walked together to the center of the Arena floor; Obi-Wan never turned his back on him as he walked.

The two men bowed. Sorve's eyes were a shiny emerald as he looked over Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan never blinked his icy blue ones, returning the stare-down that Sorv had initiated. The energy that could be felt between these two men's stares was enough to light up the Arena.

Sorv took his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it; the violet blade springing to life. He stood in a typical ready stance; it was an aggressive form of combat.

Obi-Wan ignited his cobalt blade and stood with the saber positioned over his head. His defensive strategy was strongly suited against aggressive types of combat.

He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at Emily. She was watching them with wide eyes that were full of fury and fear.

Yup, he would be arguing and apologizing about this for days to come. Now, he was really going to make sure he put this man in his place.

Sorv charged at Obi-Wan, beginning the fight.

Sorv swung with fury at Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan was clearly the better fighter. No matter how much Sorv tried to hit him, Obi-Wan blocked and deflected all of his attacks.

The two men flipped and spun around one another; blue and purple blades clashing. They were all over the Arena.

Emily couldn’t remember when breathing became difficult. Sorv had almost landed some close blows to Obi-Wan. However, her lover was holding his own quite well. She hadn’t realized how much she was afraid of Sorv until that moment. She knew he had changed and become unstable, but knowing that Obi-Wan was officially his target made all of the negative emotions that she had been repressing about him rise to the surface.

As the match progressed Obi-Wan came to realize that what Emily had feared all along was true. Sorv wasn’t just fighting him because he was interested in a feat of strength or in who the better fighter was. The amount of strength and fury that he fought Obi-Wan with told him that this was a real fight. Obi-Wan didn’t want to hurt him but he was starting to leave him with little choice.

Sorv made for Obi-Wan’s leg but he blocked the advance and locked blades with him. They pushed off each other and Obi-Wan took the opportunity to allow the tip of his blade to pierce Sorv’s arm. In Obi-Wan’s eyes, that was a warning shot; and he made sure to convey that in his raised eyebrow facial expression.

Sorv glared in rage at Obi-Wan. Did the fool think this was a game? Was he mocking him? Sorv lunged at Obi-Wan, becoming angrier with every swing of his saber.

Emily’s breath hitched in her lungs as she saw the renewed intensity that Sorv had re-engaged Obi-Wan with.

Sorv was out to destroy this man for everything he had done for him. For humiliating and taunting him in public, in front of his peers. He had moved right in on Emily, someone whom he had been close to for years. Obi-Wan Kenobi had spoiled everything; this man had made him out to be an incompetent fool. He thought he was so smug and smooth. He was arrogant and needed to understand that he, Sorv, was the superior Jedi. But he wasn’t out to just destroy him in the metaphoric sense; he wanted to hurt him. In fact, he wanted to hurt him very badly; images of a dying Kenobi flashed in his mind as he continuously swung at him, driving him forward in the battle.

Obi-Wan was becoming overwhelmed. He didn’t want to hurt him and actually fight him; this man was another Master level Jedi. Sparring that turned into anything other than a practice match was highly frowned on by the Council. Not to mention he’d have to explain why he engaged in an overly aggressive peacock match with another Jedi; a match that lost all control of emotions.

“Well Master Yoda, he has repeatedly insulted the women I cherish; so I kicked his ass.”

Somehow he couldn’t envision Master Yoda sharing his sense of humor or thought process.

Sorv finally took advantage of the fact that Obi-Wan was holding back. He allowed Obi-Wan to block his move and he took the opening; punching him forcefully in the nose, sending him straight back. As Obi-Wan fell to the ground, Sorv used the Force to hold him down and drove his blade upright into Obi-Wan’s body so that the blade seared him from his shoulder to his hip.

Obi-Wan grunted and yelled out as he felt the blade cut through his skin. Sorv kept pressing into him so hard that it was starting to cut into his muscles and nerves. His vision was blurring from the pain, but he could see Sorv’s green eyes, so full of malice and pride, looming over him.

He was blacking out.

Suddenly the pain stopped. He gasped, catching his breath. The shadow that had been looming over him was gone, the bright lights of the Arena blinding him as his vision slowly returned. He could taste the blood that was coming from his nose and dripping into his mouth. Sorv had landed a good punch.

He had faintly heard a loud noise from the right as he was going in and out of consciousness. Turning just his head to look, he saw that Sorv was on the ground. He had been thrown into the wall so forcefully that the wall had been cracked from his impact with it.

Obi-Wan turned his head in the other direction. Emily stood feet from Obi-Wan, where Sorv had been. She was panting furiously, her hands raised.

She had Force Blasted Sorv into the Arena wall with enough effort to render him helpless; he wouldn’t be getting up from that impact any time soon.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

“Match. Over.” Emily spoke in a guttural tone as she continued panting. Her eyes were wild with a burning protectiveness and fierceness.

Regaining her control she walked over to Obi-Wan's good side. She put his arm around her shoulder and helped him to his feet. The saber had cauterized his wounds, but there was still blood from the impact. His nose was dripping more blood on his tunic and the floor as he stood.

He was disoriented and weak as he stood. He had to allow Emily to bear most of his weight as his wounds had impacted his ability to carry himself.

She hovered a hand over his bad side, using the Force to assess the damage.

His muscles and nerves had been badly damaged and he was suffering from heavy internal bleeding.

She turned to look at Sorv and gave him a look that could have knocked him back six feet further from where he had landed.

Sorv barely had any consciousness, but he knew Emily had intervened, making her stance in their friendship clear for the final time. An impact that force could have, should have killed him. But Sorv was stubborn; his will to live and his hatred for Kenobi far outmatched his pain and weakness. He tried to focus his vision as he watched Emily help Obi-Wan up and out of the Arena.

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