Author: Cerulean Blue Title: Butterflies All Tied Up Rating: NC-17 Disclaimer: Ok, George, here's the deal. You let me play with Obi, I buy your merchandise, okiday? Oh, special thanks to the LOVELY Bugs of X-Files fanfic fame, who was also inspired by a Prince song and entitled a fic "Butterflies All Tied Up". I promise, this isn't ANYTHING like that. Summary: An accidental mixup makes the General realize that you're VERY approachable. AN: Although I know the General would NEVER act like this, I was inspired. Leave me alone in my madness! Butterflies All Tied Up ------------------------- You're hunched over the computer, attempting to retouch your baby sister's graduation holo. You fiddle with the settings a bit and lean back, content to admire your work. Celia's eyes glowed brightly, even in the holo, and you sighed wistfully. She'd gotten the looks in your family and you'd gotten the brains. As you thought about it, everyone got looks excepting you. Your older sister, Amisanne, had been blessed with long legs and beautiful blonde hair. Your brother, with his dark curls and tempting dimples, had charmed most of the girls in your small village. And Celia. With long, flowing dark hair and big brown eyes, she'd been the loveliest of all four of you. However, you weren't completely without charms. You'd been the smartest of the bunch, and had gotten a computer science scholarship to a school on Coruscant. You'd originally studied for photography, but with the advent of the Clone Wars, you'd been shipped out to be the technical adviser on one of the largest ships in the Republic fleet. You were your own boss, only having to report to General Kenobi upon occasion. Being more Jedi than military, he didn't quite know what to do with you, and seemed a little shy. Perhaps he was just a man of few words. But, what he lacked in words, he made up for in looks. Long, red-gold hair, haunting blue-green eyes, a sensual mouth: he was to die for. His voice rose and fell in musical tones, and his mouth showed the ghost of a dimple when he smiled, which was few and far between. You hear someone clear their voice behind you and you quickly minimize the window with Celia's holo. You whirl around in your chair and are greeted with a stern-looking General. "Officer, where are my interactive battle plans for the joint conference?" He places a hand on his hip and you hand him several data disks. He whirls around on his well-polished boot and exits the room, leaving you with the holo of Celia. You pick up a blank data disk, ready to save Celia's holo when you see the label on the outside: "GK's Battle Plans." Oh sith! You'd given him the WRONG disks. Oh well, they were probably just blanks. Then you thought about it. Those disks were your diary disks and you groaned, remembering a particularly juicy tidbit from a few nights ago. =========================== Gods, I want him. Yes, it's silly of me, and the man barely knows I exist, but what I wouldn't do given the opportunity. As Amisanne always told me, "Having your butterflies all tied up is definitely a good sign." Boy, are mine tied up. General Kenobi. *sigh* Obi-Wan Kenobi. Calena Thiel Kenobi. I could just imagine being twined with his body, both of us covered in a light sheen of sweat as he pumped into me. ================================= You hold your face in your hands for a few moments and try to put it out of your mind. Perhaps he'll see the nature of those disks and not read them. As if on cue, you hear a knock at your now-closed office door. You open it and see the General, looking very much composed save the blush creeping over the very tips of his ears. He hands you a stack of disks and turns to leave, when you decide he needs to hear your side of the story. Well, your side that didn't involve candlelight and silken blindfolds. "Listen, General. I can explain. I am SO sorry I gave you those, and even more sorry that I thought about you inappropiately." He sighs, and enters the room once more. You clear a sheaf of papers off the small sofa you have in your office and he takes a seat. You save your work and shut down the computer, settling next to him. "I'm sorry, sir. Really." He holds up a finger and presses it against your lips, silencing you for a moment. "Don't feel bad officer. I've brought you a little something." He hands you a a leatherbound book, filled with page after page of parchment. ------------ Hahahha..evil me! -------------------- You flip open the journal, strong, bold writing greeting you from every page. The first few pages are full of notes about the new crew, the ship itself. Then, about two weeks into the voyage, the tone of the entries begins to change. ================================================================ She's lovely. Soft hair, soft eyes. She has a way about her that whispers sexuality, similar to the subtelty of a slinking cat. She's quiet, dedicated to her work. When she's concentrating, she bites her lip and rubs the bridge of her nose. Her reading glasses slip down to the end of her nose and her hair falls out of that damned bun she always wears...I long to pull them away, remove the restraints and let the woman inside shine through. I saw her earlier, having come by to pick up new maps of the Yavin system. She stretched, her soft breasts pressing against the thin material of her everyday uniform. I can just imagine what secrets lie beneath those clothes, and how I'd love to discover them..embrace them. However, I'm her superior officer. I daren't make a move towards her, lest she find me crass. I suppose I just have to be content with watching, longing. However, I can't fight this basal urge...the need to strip her slowly and trail my lips across her porcelain skin. I'd worship her with my hands, memorizing every curve of her soft body. I'd kiss that perfect mouth until it was swollen with my kisses, full and sensual. ================================================================== You put the journal down for a moment, rubbing your eyes. You couldn't believe he'd written about you in such a way...so eloquently. It was a shame for his incredible talent to be hidden away behind the command post of a Republic starship. You look at him, tilting your head a bit to get the full effect. Even in full military dress, he looks very much the poet..the shy schoolboy. Before your mind can tell you no, you've moved even closer to him on the tiny couch and thrown your thigh over both his legs, effectively straddling him. His eyes grow wide and the light blush spreads from his ears down his perfect cheekbones. You pull your glasses off, placing the on the desk beside you. Everything is delightfully fuzzy, and not being able to see him staring at you helped you be bolder. You pull your hair down, the wild tendrils reaching past your waist. He thrusts his hands into the mass and massages your head as you grind against him. His hands come up to cup your face and he gives you the gentlest kiss on your forehead. His lips trail a path from your forehead down the bridge of your nose, barely flicking his tongue out on the tip. You cup the back of his neck with one arm, fiddling with his hairtie. The other makes a slow trek up and down his left thigh, causing him to squirm. "Stop love, you've managed to get the butterflies in my stomach all tied up. Let me do this my way..my pace." You sigh contendly as his hand reaches under your shirt to cup a rounded breast. His lips move from yours down the slender column of your neck, suckling and marking his new-found territory. He pulls the shirt over your head and unhooks the frilly excuse for a bra, leaving you bare to him. He leans back, enjoying the view, and then works on your uniform pants. Knowing that removing them will be impossible without standing up, you take the initiative and shuck them off quickly before working on his. His come off slower, since you wanted to torture him a bit. He pulls his boxers away and drags you back into his lap. You sway a bit, rubbing your clitoris against his rock hard cock. His hands come around to push at the small of your back, causing you to pitch forward and impale yourself on his cock. You smile a lazy smile and circle your hips, the groan escaping his mouth a good sign. You continue your ministrations, coupling them with scratching your nails along his muscled back. His fingers grip your hips just this side of painfully and he pushes you up and down with force. Soon, he's all but spent, his face sheening in sweat and his eyes longing for release. You lean forward and whisper into his ear, your breathless words being just the catalyst he needed to come. "You know my secrets now, let me learn yours." ----------------- The End