************
Title:
Break Down
Author:
Darth Diebin
************
Rating:
NC-17
Feedback:
*pitiful whimper* Please? Direct to
[email protected]
Sometimes
I lose stuff in the digests.
Archive:
All lists, if you want this fluff.
Summery:
What do you do when the Padawan needs you to give his . . . car . .
. a
jump?
Thanks
to: Aloysius, who’s keeping the Master entertained. Just remember not
to
totally wreck the underground lair, and I promise to keep the Padawan
well
entertained in your absence. This will soon be my first attempt at writing my
own smut, so be nice to me when we get there, okay? I'm very insecure about my
ability to actually
/write/
smut, although I have no problems reading the wonderful stuff you
all
write!
=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=
Chapter
1
At
first you are determined to ignore the car. You learned long ago that a
young
woman, driving alone after dark, usually shouldn’t pull over to help
strangers
who are stranded beside the road. Although it isn’t particularly
neighborly,
it’s good sense--and after one of the girls in your class met
with an
unfortunate accident after pulling over to help out an attractive
hitchhiker,
you made a promise to yourself never to put yourself in the same
position.
However,
slowing down to inch past the broken down car that’s sitting more
in the
middle of the road then on the side, you are forced to reconsider
your
decision when you see a familiar head of spiky blond hair peeking out
of the
hood, braid swinging around to catch on the latch and tangle. The man
let out
a curse, long fingers trying to disentangle his hair from the hood
of the
car as his eyes move to watch you drive past.
Half a
mile down the road, you realize what you just drove past. It’s not
Halloween--or
fan-day--so chances are it wasn’t a remarkably well disguised
Fanboy--and
it’s equally unlikely that Ewan McGregor is sitting on a back
country
road in the Midwest, dressed like a Jedi. Knowing it’s foolish, you
still
turn the car around and decide to take another pass.
Smoke
is coming out of the engine now, and the young man has resorted to
kicking
the tire weakly and swearing. He turns as he hears your car
approaching,
casting you a look of silent entreaty. ::It’s dark. I’m alone.
I don’t
have a phone to call for help. He’s dressed like Obi-Wan
Kenobi--chances
are he’s probably a little odd.::
Of
course, one look at those FM boots, and you find yourself pulling over to
the
side of the road a few feet down from him, gripping the steering wheel
tightly.
“There
is probably a reasonable explanation for this,” you say out loud,
looking
over behind you to where the Padawan-look-alike is leaning against
the
trunk of the broken down car, arms crossed over his chest and one foot
braced
on the rear bumper, giving you yet another tempting glance at those
obnoxiously
sexy boots.
Telling
yourself that this is probably just a weird dream anyway, you climb
out of
the car and head towards the man slowly, making sure you can still
bolt
back to the car if he proves to be a Fanboy who decided that this was
the
best way to pick up Chicks.
As you
get closer, the resemblance to your fantasy-Padawan doesn’t fade. As
far as
you can tell, you are approaching the entirely fuckable Obi-Wan
Kenobi
. . . on a dark road in the middle of nowhere.
His
first words surprise you. “Where did you get those clothes?”
You
look down at your jeans and T-shirt, baggy and slightly grimy since
you’ve
spent the last eleven hours driving from home back to college after a
short
vacation. “Ummm . . . Target?” you respond, slightly confused.
“I
mean, you blend in with these primitives so--” The Obi-Wan-Clone looks at
you
narrowly. “Wait, aren’t you a Padawan?”
“Huh?”
you respond brightly. His hand darts out before you can flinch back,
locking
around the Padawan braid your Sisters in Forcehood convinced you to
cut
half a year before when Episode 1 came out. “Why else would you have a
Padawan
braid?”
“Umm .
. . it’s kind of a long story. Look, can I ask you what you’re doing
here?”
Not the politest thing to say to what appears to be a Jedi--but
you’re
still relatively sure that one of you is crazy--and you’d rather it
were
him.
“Qui-Gon
and I are supposed to be checking this planet out for the
Republic--but
I have to say that I really don’t think they are technically
advanced
enough to keep up with the rest of the galaxy.” The young Padawan
tilts
his head back towards the car, still sitting in the middle of the
road.
“Take these transports, for instance. They’re really rather odd.”
“Where
is Master Qui-Gon?” you ask, rather calmly you believe.
“He’s
resting at the hotel. He had a rather nasty experience this evening,
so I
was going to go and get him dinner so he wouldn’t have to go outside
again.”
Obi-Wan grimaces slightly, leaving you to wonder exactly what kind
of an
experience the Master had. Obi-Wan doesn’t leave you wondering for
long,
however. “We went to see one of their primitive holovids--you know the
two-dimensional
ones.”
“Yes, I
know--they call them movies.”
“Movies,”
Obi-Wan repeats, leaning back against the car again. “Yes,
well--we
went to a rather odd one. Star Fights, or Star Battle, something
odd
like--”
“Star
Wars?” you choke out, taking in Obi-Wan’s tunic, pants, and
lightsabre.
“You went dressed like that?” Of course, you suppose that people
are
used to a few freaks showing up in costume--but probably not ones who
look
identical to those in the picture.
“No, no
. . . we had some of the local costumes on. I guess we arrived
rather
late to the picture. Have you seen it before?”
“Star
Wars?” you ask again. At Obi-Wan’s nod, you consider what to say.
‘Sixteen
times’ would probably sound a little odd, so you decide to simply
nod.
“Yes, I’ve seen it.”
“It’s
the oddest thing--they obviously know about Jedi, since it is about
Jedi,
but they had some that really rather resembled Master Qui-Gon and
myself.
I believe they even had our names.”
Well,
that explains Qui-Gon’s shock, you think. If they recognized the
characters
as looking like them, what would he have thought when he saw The
Mistake?
“Well,
Master Qui-Gon felt a little odd at the end,” Obi-Wan continues,
oblivious
to your wide eyed stare. “--the man with his name did not meet up
with a
happy ending--” You wince visibly, muttering angrily out of habit
about
/that/ scene.
“Excuse
me?” Obi-Wan is looking at you rather oddly now.
“Nothing.
What were you saying?” You try to give Obi-Wan your full
attention,
which is proving rather difficult. Well, not difficult
exactly--but
the wrong parts of your body seem to be giving him their full
attention.
“Well
as if the movie wasn’t odd enough, we were standing up to leave and
this
woman just threw herself at him, sobbing and crying and saying over and
over,
‘I knew it was a mistake.’” Obi-Wan grins mischievously, making you
wonder
if your knees are going to continue holding up for much longer.
“Qui-Gon
could never stand to see someone upset, so he took her back to the
hotel
to try and calm her down.”
“What
was her name?” you ask casually. Having seen no small number of your
friends
leaving the theater gibbering with tears, you wouldn’t be surprised
if you
knew Qui-Gon’s assailant.
“Hmm .
. Aloysius, I believe.”
You
attempt to stifle a giggle, imagining Aloysius being led back to a hotel
room by
the Master. ::If that man thinks he’s going to be calming her down,
he’s in
for a very entertaining surprise.::
“Yes, I
rather gathered that from the way she was looking at him.” Obi-Wan
responds
to your thought as if you’d spoken it out loud, making you blink.
He
smiles again, giving your padawan braid another tug. “Well, even if you
aren’t
a Padawan, how about a little help here? You seem to be doing better
with
your transport than I am with mine.”
It only
takes you a few moments to figure out what is wrong with the old car
Obi-Wan
was attempting to drive--it is flat out of gas--although how he
managed
to get the engine to start emitting black smoke you’re not quite
sure.
“I
don’t think there’s anything I can do with it here,” you say as you close
the
hood of the car. “If you could get it off of the road, I could give you
a lift
to wherever you need to be, and then someone could come get it for
you
tomorrow.”
“That
won’t be too much of a problem,” Obi-Wan responds, smiling. You had
assumed
he’d wave his hand around, toss it off the road with the Force or
something.
Oh no. Obi-Wan has apparently decided that you deserve a show for
being
so helpful. Grinning widely, he calmly undoes his belt and strips off
his
tunics, handing them to you before flexing casually.
Even in
the faint moonlight, his well formed muscles are very obvious. He
stares
at you for a few moments before turning, tossing out the suggestion,
“You
might want to breath,” over his shoulder with a wink, and beginning to
push
the car off of the street.
Breath.
Yeah. With the half-naked Padawan showing off his muscles /and/ his
very
attractive butt. You’ve got so many more important things to do than
breath.
Like remain standing.
Chapter
2
By the
time the car is off the side of the road, Obi-Wan has worked up a
decent
sweat, and you’ve realized that breathing and blinking are both
necessary
functions of you body--but you can’t seem to do either as you
stare
at the play of muscles accented by the moonlight.
Not
even bothering to reclaim his tunics, Obi-Wan gives you one of those
looks--the
look that reminds you that he can read thoughts and yours have
been
less the PG lately. Trying to ignore the automatic response in several
parts
of your body, you open the door and start to get into the car, only to
smack
your head on the door frame when you’re distracted by the sight of the
Padawan
stretching, his arms reached up over his head and his back arched.
Your so
entranced by the powerful play of muscle under tan skin that you
don’t
even realize you’re falling until it’s too late to stop.
You
find yourself sitting on the ground next to your car door, and a few
seconds
later he’s there, bare chest only a few inches from your face as he
examines
the bump on the top of your head with strong, gentle fingers.
“You
have to be more careful,” he says. For all you care, he could be
quoting
the stock prices--you really can’t be expected to pay attention to
words
when he is so close that you could stick your tongue out and lick that
glistening
chest. The urge to do so is overpowering--and you have a horrible
feeling
from the sudden chuckle above you that he knows exactly what you are
thinking.
Your
feeling is confirmed when you are suddenly faced with a pair of
mischievous
aqua-gray eyes, staring at you from a meager inch and a half.
His
nose is brushing against yours, his breath tickling your lips. “You
should
act on your instincts,” he says softly, nuzzling you playfully with
his
nose.
“Even
if they tell me to give a complete stranger a tongue-bath?” you
respond,
pleased that your voice is only trembling a little. ::Maybe not
quite
as seductive as Monica or Emmy could have managed--but not bad under
the
circumstances.::
“If the
stranger is me,” he says in a low purr, leaning even closer so that
he’s
speaking against your lips. Your breathing and heart stop as he presses
his
lips against yours, the tip of his tongue darting out to trace your lips
where
the meet.
You
open your mouth to him, expecting him to deepen the kiss--which he
probably
would have if something hadn’t suddenly shocked him badly enough
that he
goes stumbling backwards, eyes wide and one hand pressed against his
forehead
as he lands inelegantly on his well rounded behind.
Now it
is your turn to kneel in front of him as he gathers his scattered
wits,
shocked expression falling away to be replaced by an adorable smirk.
“You’d
think at his age he’d be able to hide his emotions a little better,”
Obi-Wan
mutters, shifting his weight until he actually looks comfortable,
sprawled
gracefully in the road next to your car.
“Who?”
you ask, slightly confused--and a little bit pissed off too. Whoever
got in
the way your first chance to tongue wrestle with the Padawan is going
to hear
from you later on if you have anything to say about it.
“Master
Qui-Gon,” comes the amused response. “Your friend--Alyi--Alos--”
“Aloysius,”
you supply promptly.
“Ah
yes, Aloysius--well, she seems to have gotten over whatever was making
her
cry, and has decided that Master Qui-Gon needs some comforting now.” His
grin is
so sexy that you control the urge to show him a little comforting on
the
spot--the only thing holding you back is the knowledge that it is very
illegal
to strip down and play with sexy strangers in the middle of the
street
in this galaxy.
“Comforting,
hmmm?” you ask, moving a little bit closer.
“Yes .
. . very enthusiastic comforting, if his projection is any proof.”
The
sexy grin is back, and you have the feeling that he knows very well how
fuckable
it makes him--the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you says it
louder
than words. “Master Qui-Gon is very good at keeping feelings like
that
shielded from me--your friend must be being very persistent.”
Sparing
a few moments to think about the many conversations you have had
with
Aloysius on exactly what she would do if given access to the Master,
you
send Qui-Gon a few thoughts of encouragement--and a quick prayer to
whoever
may be listening that he likes whipped cream and chocolate syrup as
much as
she does.
Of
course, thoughts of what the two of you wanted to do to the Master lead
directly
to what you wanted to do to the Padawan--who is lying in front of
you
right now wearing only his pants--his pants and that smug grin. And the
FM
boots. Never forget the FM boots.
Before
you can move, one of those boot clad legs wraps suddenly around your
back,
pulling you off balance and leaving you to try and keep from falling
by
clutching at the first thing your hands close upon--which of course is a
very
muscular, very naked set of shoulders.
“Like
the boots, do you?” Obi-Wan purrs softly, face only inches from your
throat.
You can feel the brush of his short spiky hair against your chin,
making
your entire body shiver. You whimper softly, one hand falling from
his
chest to rest against his knee where it is pulled up tightly against
your
waist. The other leg is still wrapped around the back of yours, making
escape
impossible.
Escape?
For crying out loud, who wants to escape? Your only hope right now
is that
you can get him someplace where it’s safe to rip his clothing
off--even
thought it would be fun to do it right now, it would be very
difficult
to explain to a cop why you had decided to get funky in the road
with a
Jedi Knight. ::Well,:: you think to yourself, your hand beginning to
absently
caress his firm leg though his pants. ::At least they’d send me to
the
loony bin as opposed to jail. Nothing crazier than screwing a fictional
character
in the middle of the road.::
All
attempts to think are shattered, however, as Obi-Wan decides he’s had
enough
of staring at your throat, and opens his lips to begin sucking on it
gently.
Your head falls back and you don’t even attempt to hide the moan as
his
lips slide up the front of your throat, over your chin, and finally to
your
own. He has shifted forward by now, taking his weight off of his arms
so that
one can slip around your waist as the other tangles in your hair,
holding
your face steady as he begins to tease your lips open with his
tongue.
There
is no hesitancy in the kiss this time. Your arms slide around his neck
as you
tilt your head, your lips sliding off of his to trail down his cheek
to his
neck, sucking urgently as you feel the approving rumble deep in his
chest.
Before
things can get any more interesting, however, you are reminded of
your
location by an approaching car, which obligingly slows down as it turns
the
corner, blinding you in it’s headlights.
You try
to break out of Obi-Wan’s embrace, but his leg is still locked
firmly
behind you as he simply stares at the car.
A
window roles down and a man who doesn’t look to be much older than you
sticks
his head out the window, calling out, “You might be needing this,
man!”
He tosses something out the window before slamming on the gas, the
laughter
of his passengers floating back to you as he whips off around the
corner,
headlights fading and leaving the two of you in quasi-darkness
again.
Obi-Wan
picks up the small plastic package with a confused look that
suddenly
turns into a smug grin. You look at it more closely, rolling your
eyes
and groaning as you recognize the distinct shape. Well, never say that
people
in the Midwest aren’t helpful . . .
“Don’t
worry,” Obi-Wan says, grinning before tucking the present in one of
your
pockets. “We’ve got them where I’m from--you’re not going to have to
explain
to me what it is.”
“Small
mercy that,” you mutter, squirming around in his arms until he
releases
you. “Come on, Padawan. I’m not going to wait around to see what
the
next car throws at us. I’m taking you back to your hotel now.”
“Am I
going to have to stay alone?” he pouts up at you, reclining back on
the
road, one hand tracing circles on that perfect chest. He looks so damn
sensual,
sprawled out in front of you bonelessly--
--well,
not /completely/ bonelessly.
“You’ve
got your Master,” you say teasingly, crossing your arms and staring
down at
him in mock-seriousness.
“Are
you /kidding/?” Obi-Wan demands, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to get a
different
room when I get back--no way I’m staying with him while your
friend
is doing that kind of stuff to him.”
“Still
at it, is she?” you ask, not at all surprised. Aloysius has a deep
passion
for the Master, and the chances are that she'll have him tied up for
a long
time. Literally.
“And
then some,” is the sly response. The long fingers are now caressing his
stomach,
although his eyes remain locked on yours. “Am I going to have to
stay
alone?” he asks again.
“Get in
the damn car,” you growl suddenly, spinning around and flinging
yourself
into the drivers seat. You breath deeply for a few moments, jumping
as he
slides into the passenger seat much more quickly than you expected he
would.
“Any
more orders?” he asks, his face very close to your neck.
“Behave
while I drive,” you say faintly, buckling your seat belt and
starting
the car. Obi-Wan sighs and gives your neck a teasing lick before
settling
back against the door, buckling his seat belt and giving you a
heated
look.
You’ve
only been driving for about five minutes when you feel his hand on
your
knee, rubbing softly against the rough fabric of your jeans. As his
hand
starts moving slowly upwards, you realize that this is going to be a
very
interesting ride. . .
Chapter
3
If you
had known in the beginning that his hotel was half an hour away, you
would
have had him sit in the back seat for his own good. You don’t know
what
kind of drivers training they get on Coruscant, but Driver’s Ed sure
the
hell didn’t teach you how to navigate dark, winding roads successfully
with
the distraction of a very strong, very talented hand caressing you
through
the thin fabric of your shirt.
Obi-Wan,
damn him, is reclining against the seat as if nothing out of the
ordinary
is going on. His fingers brush lightly against your collarbone as
they
head towards the buttons on your shirt, undoing the first four so
quickly
that you barely have time to protest. The need to protest dies
quickly,
however, when he twists around in the seat and is suddenly pressing
very
warm lips to your stomach, sending jolts of heat throughout your body.
Concentrating
on the road has suddenly become difficult, and you overcorrect
from a
turn, causing the car to lurch. Obi-Wan’s face slides sideways across
your
stomach to your side, but he doesn’t bother to move back, sucking
instead
on the sensitive skin at your side while using those nimble fingers
to
finish opening your shirt up.
You can
feel your hands tightening on the wheel as he begins to lick his way
back to
your stomach, tongue swirling in lazy patterns across your warm
skin.
He moves slowly, intent on tasting every inch of exposed skin. Every
once in
a while he finds a sensitive spot--and your gasps are inevitably
rewarded
with special attention--usually teasing nibbles and intent sucking.
By the
time he’s half way up your stomach you’re surprised that you can
still
see the road.
Lust-induced
as you are, it takes a few minutes for the meaning of the
flashing
lights behind you to sink in. The sirens are more direct, and you
come
back to earth with a crash, moaning as a glance in your rearview mirror
reveals
a police car.
Pushing
Obi-Wan’s head gently away from your body, you curse softly as you
pull
over to the side of the road and slow your car, realizing too late that
your
shirt is undone and your cheeks are flushed.
The
officer knocks on your window and you oblige him by rolling it down,
casting
Obi-Wan a look that promises death if he misbehaves. The officer
spends
a few moments just looking at you, giving you the same look your
parents
would give you years ago when you came home from a date with a
hickey
that just refused to be hidden.
“You
know how fast you two were going?” the man asks finally, giving
Obi-Wan’s
bare chest a disapproving look.
::Since
we’re both wearing pants not fast enough,:: is all you can think of
to
say--and that is probably not the best idea. Actually, you really don’t
have a
clue how fast you were driving--you hadn’t looked at your speedometer
since
Obi-Wan’s tongue decided to come out to play.
You
shake your head, giving the officer a demure look. “I’m sorry sir--this
speedometer
isn’t that reliable.” You glance over at Obi-Wan, who is giving
you a
down-right sultry look, head tilted to the side, eyes hooded by long
lashes.
::Stop trying to seduce me and start helping me,:: you think at him
with
all of your might. If he can read the thoughts you don’t want him to
see,
he’d damn well better be able to pick up things you’re screaming at
him.
Right
on cue, the Padawan leans across you, one arm resting on the window
and the
other sneaking behind your back. He simply stares at the officer for
a few
moments, while the hand behind your back creeps upwards until it
encounters
your bra.
“We
weren’t going that fast,” Obi-Wan says casually, looking up at the
officer
calmly.
“You
weren’t going that fast,” the officer repeats obediently, and you
blink.
::I thought he had to wave his hand around or something--:: He’s most
definitely
not waving his hand around though, a fact to which you are
alerted
when you suddenly feel the first clasp on your bra give. You elbow
him in
the ribs, hoping he realizes that your shirt is hanging open, and
flashing
an officer of the law is not considered good form in this galaxy.
Obi-Wan
looks at you briefly, murmuring, “You don’t want that on anyway,”
before
turning the force of his gaze back on the officer.
::I
don’t want this on any--:: the thought keeps hold of your mind long
enough
for him to undo the second clasp. ::Why that little bastard! Thinks
he can
mind whammy me, huh?:: It’s too late, however--the third clasp is
already
undone, leaving your undergarment hanging precariously from your
shoulders.
While
you were distracted by the mind whammy, Obi-Wan apparently came to
some
agreement with the officer, who shakes Obi-Wan’s hand before turning to
walk
back to his car. Neither of you speak as the engine starts up, and a
few
moments you see the police car drive by, leaving you both in dark
silence
again.
You
open your mouth to inform the Padawan how little you appreciated being
stripped
in front of a cop, but nothing manages to come out but a moan as
Obi-Wan
turns suddenly, pulling your bra down and dropping his mouth to your
left
breast, sucking and tasting with obvious enthusiasm. Your head falls
back as
you let out a loud whimper, one hand grasping wildly at his arm,
still
propped up against the window. He has one arm wrapped around you,
arching
your back as much as the seatbelt will allow and making it
impossible
for you to escape the warm prison of his mouth.
After
what seems like an eternity he pulls back, and you’re distracted by
the
feel of smooth metal sliding across your stomach as he moves his hand
away
from the window. Curious, you grab his hand and turn it over, blinking
for a
few moments at the handcuffs he’s holding before the realization sinks
in.
“You
stole his /handcuffs/?” you ask shakily, your voice rising dangerously
on the
last word.
“I did
not steal them,” Obi-Wan responds primly, giving you a look that
makes
your entire body shudder. “He gave them to me.”
“Why
would you want them?” You’re not expecting him to answer, so you’re
surprised
when he leans over to place his mouth directly next to your ear.
“I
don’t want you getting away when I use my Jedi powers of sexual
stimulation
on you,” he whispers softly, gracing your earlobe with a slow,
heated
lick. “Most people can’t sit still after the first five minutes.”
“You
used the mind whammy to procure sexy toys from a public official?” Your
voice,
meant to sound stern, comes out far too approving. You can’t seem to
keep
control of your body, which is telling you to strip down immediately
and
fuck the Jedi blind.
“Mind
whammy?” Obi-Wan’s voice sounds amused, and he chuckles softly against
your
ear, sending another surge of heat throughout your body.
You
pull back slightly and turn to face him. “Mind whammy,” you repeat. “You
know,
this one.” You wave your hand in front of his face and intone, “You
want to
take off your pants right now.”
Obi-Wan
smiles and reaches down, grabbing the fastening of your pants in one
hand
and catching your face in the other, forcing you to look directly into
his
eyes. You try to ignore the fingers at your waist, so close to the wet
heat
that is crying out for him.
“You
shouldn’t try that if you don’t know how,” Obi-Wan says softly, his
voice
so throaty that you let out a little whimper of desire just hearing
him
speak. “You never know when it will backfire . . .”
::Backfire
away!:: is the only thought you’re capable off. He is still
holding
your face firmly in one hand, holding you inches away from his own
face.
You whimper softly as his hand slips between your legs, rubbing you
lightly
through the fabric of your pants.
“Drive
now,” Obi-Wan whispers against your lips, tongue darting out to lick
along
them as he pulls back, settling into his corner of the car again. For
a few
minutes you're left gasping for breath, but it isn’t long before you
realize
that the quicker you start the car, the faster you’ll be in a
setting
where it’s appropriate to rip his pants off and return the tongue
bath.
Obi-Wan
behaves rather well for the next fifteen minutes, playing
contentedly
with his new toy. The soft click of the handcuffs as he locks
them
and unlocks them with the Force is rhythmic--unlike your breathing.
By the
time you finally pull into the parking lot at the hotel you’re ready
to
scream with sexual tension. You ignore your bra, buttoning your shirt
back up
hastily before pushing Obi-Wan from the car and following quickly,
bringing
only your car keys with you as you herd him towards the hotel
entrance.
Before
you reach the door, Obi-Wan turns, bracing a hand on each of your
shoulders.
“Are
you sure you want to do this?” he asks seriously, eyes mysterious. You
stare
at him as if he’s gone mad--do you want to fuck the Padawan? Is it a
trick
question?
“Yes,”
you respond, not trusting yourself to say any more.
“Good.”
His eyes take on a sly cast, and he gives you that irresistible,
'I-know-you-want-what-I’ve-got'
look. “Now do you have anything you’d like
to say
before we go in?”
“I
don’t think so,” you respond carefully. “Why?”
“Because,
once we set foot in that hotel you’re going to spend the next four
or five
hours whimpering and moaning--so if you have anything serious to say
you’d
better do it now.”
“Confident,
aren’t you?” You can’t resist saying it, staring up into those
dancing
eyes. You’re every bit as confident in his abilities as he seems to
be.
Hell, you’re probably more so.
“No,
not confident,” he replies, grabbing your hand and leading you toward
the
door. “Experienced.” Casting you a heated look over his shoulder, he
pulls
you inside.
Chapter 4
Before
the door of your hotel room even swings shut he's on you, devouring
every
inch of you he can reach with his hungry mouth. Your eyes roll back
into
your head and you whimper, barely feeling it as you are pressed up
against
the door by a long, hard body. You faintly hear a click next to your
ear as
he raises one hand to slide the door lock home, the other hand
already
tugging insistently against your shirt.
When
his body moves away you start to slide down towards the floor, rubbery
knees
no longer able to hold your quivering body upright. He catches you
with
the Force, holding your body a few feet off of the floor, and freeing
his
hands to make quick work of the row of buttons down the front of your
shirt.
It falls open, leaving your skin bare to his warm gaze.
Obi-Wan
stares at you for a few long moments, making your body come alive
with
the need to touch him. "Please," you whisper softly, your eyes
meeting
his as
he takes a step forward to tower over you.
"Please,
what?" he responds, reaching down to slide the arm of your shirt
off of
your shoulder. The fabric slides against your skin, making you
shiver,
but he is very careful not to give you the satisfaction of his hands
on your
body. You are still suspended in midair, caught and trapped by the
invisible
Force bonds.
"Please,"
you whisper again, only this time it sounds much more like a
whimper.
"Please-touch me."
Obi-Wan
says nothing, moving to the other side to slide your shirt off of
your
body in the same fashion-the heat of his warm fingers coming to you
through
the fabric of your shirt, making your body ache to be touched.
When
you are shirtless before him he draws back again, studying you with his
head
cocked to one side. You suppress the urge to whimper again, telling
yourself
that you're damned well not going to give him the pleasure of
hearing
you moan until he does something to deserve it.
"Oh,
don't you worry." Suddenly he's there, speaking against your neck, arms
wrapping
around your back and lifting you up. "I'll do plenty to deserve
it."
Next
thing you know you are staring at the floor as it moves by, feeling the
bunched
muscles of Obi-Wan's shoulder as it flexes under your stomach. It
takes
you a few moments to realize that the man has tossed you over his
shoulder--and
he's not headed towards the bed.
You see
the floor change from carpet to tiling, and assume that Obi-Wan has
decided
to head towards the bathroom. He stops moving for a few moments, and
you get
the feeling that he is examining the facilities. Apparently pleased
with
what he sees he let's out an approving rumble--one you can feel echoing
through
his chest more than you can hear it. Impatient for him to get on
with
it, you reach down with one hand and squeeze that perfect butt.
Your
world is upended in a surge of rippling muscle, and you find yourself
sprawled
on the floor, hands caught above your head in Obi-Wan's grasp.
"Want
to get on with it, do you?" he purrs, his face impossibly close to
yours.
Instead
of answering, you move your head slightly and bite his lower lip,
growling
in the back of your throat as you begin to suck on it, daring him
not to
return the gesture. He doesn't disappoint you, opening his mouth and
taking
sudden control of the kiss, running his tongue along the inside of
your
mouth almost roughly.
You're
convinced that you are about to die of air loss when he finally moves
his
mouth away--but he doesn't give you a chance to recover. You feel
yourself
swept up in his arms and you close your eyes against the dizziness
that
threatens to overwhelm you.
The
feeling of cold tile against your back makes your eyes fly open, and you
gaze up
to find him looming above you, hands sliding slowly down your bare
arms to
grasp your wrists. In a lightning quick move he has guided them
upwards,
and you find first one hand and then the other encircled by the
cold
caress of steel.
Glancing
up, you see your hand securely handcuffed together, the chain
connecting
them passing between two parts of the showerhead, ensuring that
you
aren't going anywhere unless several feet of lead piping comes with you.
Your
attention is dragged suddenly downwards, and you blink at the sight of
the
Padawan kneeling at your feet, one hand on either side of your waist.
His
eyes are staring up at you, two blue-gray pools hooded by thick lashes.
As soon
as you meet his eyes he leans forward, pressing a warm kiss to the
heat
between your legs, making you jump even though there are several layers
of
fabric between his mouth and your body.
You
jump again as he slowly unbuttons your jeans, his eyes never leaving
yours
as one hand pulls the zipper down while the other slides around your
hip to
pull at the back of your pants, sliding them down a few inches.
Maddeningly,
he stops, gazing up at you with those incredible eyes. You feel
a wave
of desire pass over you, and you push your hips forward, hoping that
he'll
do /something./ You don't really care much what at this point--but you
need
something.
Smiling
slightly he tugs your pants a little lower before leaning in to kiss
you
again, this time with only your thin underwear to protect you from the
heat of
his mouth. You let out a throaty groan, pushing blindly towards him,
moaning
when his hands come up to brace your hips back against the wall.
With a
swift movement he tugs your pants the rest of the way down your legs,
lifting
your feet and tossing the pants out of the shower door before rising
gracefully
to his feet. He gazes at you for a few moments more before
grasping
your face in his hands and lowering his lips to yours, claiming
your
mouth in a searing kiss. Only his hands and his mouth touch you, and he
only
chuckles and pulls back when you arch your body forward, desperate for
the
feel of his skin against yours.
You
notice then that you can no longer feel the coolness of the handcuffs
against
your wrist. Looking up you tug one wrist against the restraint
experimentally,
confused when the metal doesn't bite into your skin. It's
almost
as if there is something rubbery between your wrists and the metal.
"I've
lined them with a little Force protection," Obi-Wan whispers against
your
ear, his breath stirring your hair. "No need to have those pesky
tell-tale
bruises, now is there?"
Chapter
5
The
pace Obi-Wan sets is torturous in its slowness. His hands touch every
inch of
you several times, running over you first firmly, then
lighter--until
the final caress is like the faint feeling of silk against
your
skin. You try to arch towards him, but after the first time you tried
he did
something with the Force, and now the only parts of you that you can
move
are your head and your arms--but your arms aren’t going anywhere and
your
head is trapped firmly between your arms.
He’s
still touching you--having made his way from your feet up to your neck
by now.
When his hand passes over your face his whispers a command, and your
eyes
slide obediently shut beneath the force of his mind, leaving you with
only
four senses. The featherlike caresses continue, up your arms and to
your
fingers, gently parting them and twining strong fingers between them
before
sliding back down your arms.
And
then there is nothing. You try to open your eyes, but your entire body
resists
it. ::Mind whammy,:: you think to yourself, tilting your head
slightly
to the side to rest against your arm. Your skin is so sensitized
now
that every brush of air against it is like a caress, and even the faint
feeling
of your hair sliding against your back as you move your head makes
you
jump.
Jump is
too mild a word for what you try to do when you feel the first sweep
of his
tongue across the bridge of your foot. Whatever he is doing to
restrain
you keeps you from moving, but your muscles try to carry out the
movement
just the same--adding another layer of sensation to the one his
tongue
is creating. Nothing touches you but that wet heat, and it glides
over
every inch of your foot before sliding upwards, twirling around the
inside
of your ankle and making your entire body shudder.
After
he’s tasted your ankle he pulls back to blow on it, and you shudder
again,
a whimper escaping your lips. Still sensitive from the light
caresses,
the feeling of his tongue burns like fire across your skin, and
the
cool air makes your body tremble.
Your
hope that he will end the sweet torture soon is dashed as he continues
slowly
up your leg, careful that nothing touches your body but the roughness
of his
tongue. Careful that he doesn’t miss anything. Every once in a while
he’ll
pull back for a few moments, leaving your body trembling between the
desire
for him to continue, and the desire for him to just tear you from the
wall
and fuck you blind.
But the
tongue always returns, and your world narrows down to your skin and
his
tongue. Narrows down to your sense of smell and your sense of touch. He
doesn’t
speak, and you can’t see him or taste him, but every feeling hits
you
three times, and the musky smell of him is overwhelming. It’s almost
frightening,
the intense concentration you can feel rolling off of
him--frightening,
and awe-inspiring.
When
his mouth reaches your underwear he makes a slight clicking noise in
the
back of his throat, growling lightly. You feel his teeth brushing
lightly
against your waist, and then feel the elastic of your last piece of
clothing
slide slowly downwards as he guides it off of your body with his
mouth.
You
groan, wanting more than anything to open your eyes and see this
beautiful
man unclothing you with his teeth--and then you groan deeper as
you
feel the trail of cloth against the leg he has licked, against the
incredibly
sensitive skin.
You
obediently lift your feet one at a time and you hear that approving
rumble
again--a noise that seems to start deep in his chest and stop just
short
of coming out as deep purr. You imagine what it would feel like to be
pressed
up against his chest as he did that, what it would feel like to have
those
well toned muscles flexing against yours, the feel of his warm skin
rubbing
against you.
“Soon,”
Obi-Wan says in a throaty voice, his face surprisingly close to your
ear.
“Have patience.” And with that, he begins the tongue bath again with
your
other leg.
You
have no concept of time in this world Obi-Wan has immersed you into.
Somehow
he’s made it so that the slightest touch of his skin on yours is
mindblowingly
erotic--you feel like a tightly strung instrument. And
Obi-Wan,
damn him, seems to know all too well how to play you.
He is
incredibly thorough, and by the time you feel is tongue licking across
your
lips you’re frantic. The only parts of you left untouched by his mouth
are the
two areas on your body that cry out most for attention. The minute
you
feel his mouth brushing yours your lurch your head forward, catching his
mouth
in a brutal, desperate kiss.
He
allows the play for a few moments, letting you have this tiny bit of
control
before reasserting his with a casual flick of his tongue, pulling
away
with a tantalizing lick across your lips. Desperate to see him you try
to
force your eyes open, and are rewarded with a warm chuckle and a light
caress
against your brow.
“Don’t
try to see me,” he whispers, the first time you’ve heard his voice in
what
seems like forever. “Feel me.”
Feel
him? He’s not touching you, you can’t move, how the hell are you
supposed
to--
You get
no further, because at that point your brain shuts off. Obi-Wan is
on his
knees in front of you, strong hands splaying posessively across your
butt as
he pulls your hips forward and place a long kiss between your legs
that
shatters your universe.
You
whimpers grow more vocal as you feel the slithering heat of his tongue,
cool
compared to the fire raging inside you but warm enough to stoke the
flames
higher. Your body--sensitized somehow by him to react to the
slightest
brush of flesh--suddenly explodes, and your whimpers give way to
throaty
moans, which in turn lead into hoarse cries--pleading with him to
take
you higher, to drop you--to do anything but let you teeter on the brink
of
insanity.
His
only response is to bury his face deeper in you, opening his mouth and
actually
/purring/ into you.
You
scream. In case everyone on the floor didn’t hear you, you do it again,
just a
little louder. Liking your response, Obi-Wan purrs again--and this
time
you’re sure that the nightwatch man in the lobby seven floors down is
going
to come up to see who is killing you.
His
hands and the handcuffs are the only thing holding you upright now. Your
knees
have long since given out, and your entire body is trembling with the
need
for release, but he keeps you teetering, so close that you can feel the
tremors
almost starting.
Still
he drags it out, pulling back a little to give lighter caresses before
diving
in and sucking full force. You’re convinced that the sadistic bastard
is
taking pleasure from your torture--all you can think of now is the need
to fall
into bliss, but bound by the Force as you are you can’t even thrust
your
hips forward.
Finally
he takes pity on you, one hand sliding lower as the other hand
slides
to the center of your back to compensate. Then his fingers join his
tongue
in coaxing you, and with cry that makes your throat hurt you feel
yourself
hurled into mindless oblivion, crying out and writhing against him
as wave
upon wave of mindless pleasure breaks over you, your body shaking
violently
with the intensity of your climax. Throughout it all Obi-Wan
calmly
continues his ministrations, drawing your orgasm out until you’re
afraid
that your entire body is going to fly apart riding the violent waves
or
pleasure.
When
it’s over you find yourself trembling in Obi-Wan’s arms, the handcuffs
clinking
softly to the ground as he unlocks them with a thought, letting you
slide
bonelessly to the ground, sprawling helplessly in his lap.
You
can’t help it, you feel tears of shock and pleasure drifting silently
down
your cheeks--never in your life have you felt so overwhelmed or out of
control.
Gentle fingers swipe across your cheeks, and you find that you can
open
your eyes again.
The
aqua-gray pools above you drink you in, and you manage a tremulous smile
at the
intent look of worry in his eyes.
“Did I
hurt you?” Obi-Wan’s voice is hesitant and concerned, and you can
feel
the gentle caress of his hand through your hair.
“I
think you killed me,” you respond, your voice still ragged and your
breathing
shallow. “I never thought death could be so good.”
Those
heart-breakingly beautiful features break out into a smile, and you
repress
a giggle. His lips are still very wet from their encounter with the
proof
of your desire, and you lift a trembling hand to wipe across the
bottom
lip.
He
captures your finger in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from your
finger
and licking around it with that amazing tongue. You can hardly
believe
it when another shot of desire arches through your body--you still
haven’t
recovered your breath yet--another orgasm like that /will/ kill you.
“Don’t
worry,” Obi-Wan says softly, releasing your finger and gathering you
up to
carry you to the other room. “You’ll have your breath back before the
next
one--I’ll make sure you don’t die from the pleasure.”
::How
kind of you,:: is your last thought as he tumbles both of you into the
bed.
Chapter 6
A man
of his word, once in the bed Obi-Wan pulls you against his back and
cuddles
you for a few moments, letting you catch your breath. You can feel
his
arousal against your back, obvious through the thin fabric of his pants,
but he
ignores it gallantly.
You
thought you were exhausted, but the feel of his body against yours and
the
muscles of his chest moving fluidly as he rubs one hand up and down your
body is
intoxicating, and it’s not all that long before you’re squirming
around
in his arms to face him, a familiar warmth uncurling deep inside you.
“Well,
that didn’t take long,” Obi-Wan says softly, his eyes shifting from
grayish-aqua
to almost green. “I obviously didn’t do a good enough job.”
“You
did fine,” you purr back, throwing one bare leg over his hip and
dragging
his body even closer to yours. “I just want more.”
“More?”
His eyes sparkle as he rolls back over, pressing your body into the
bed
with his. “Do you really think you’re ready for more?” Most of his
weight
is braced on his arm that is resting above your head, but the feeling
of his
hard body stretched out on top of yours is still enough to make you
breathless
all over again.
Instead
of answering his question you shoot one hand up above your head and
close
your fingers around his wrist, giving his arm a swift tug. Obi-Wan
lets
out a startled gasp as he looses his balance and lands fully on top of
you,
pressing you down into the bed. Before he can react you snap your legs
up
around his hips and trap him against you, grinding your hips up against
him
teasingly.
“What
do you think, Padawan?” you growl against his throat, inhaling the
musky
scent of him. “Do I feel ready?”
“Would
you like an expert opinion on that?” Obi-Wan asks softly, lifting his
face to
nuzzle your hair.
“Who’s
the expert?” you respond, grinding your hips up against his again. He
hisses
slightly, biting down on your earlobe and causing you to grind
against
him again.
“Some
would call me qualified,” Obi-Wan whispers into your ear. “Allow me to
examine
you.” Before you can respond he’s moving, sliding down your body
slowly
enough so that he never loses contact with you. The feeling of his
chest
rubbing across your breasts and stomach is amazing, and you fight the
urge to
buck up against him. He growls appreciatively, lifting up slowly and
guiding
your legs from his shoulders to lay back against the bed.
In a
flurry of movement he spins himself around so that his head is next to
your
knees, propped up on one elbow as he reclines next to you. “Now, where
was I?
Ahhh, yes. Expert opinion.” His nose comes down to nuzzle at your
thigh,
parting your legs with gentle insistence.
“Look
at me,” he purrs into your leg, and you open your eyes and lift your
head
slightly, overwhelmed by the site of his cheek resting on your thigh,
eyes
wide and dark with passion. One hand slides up over your hip and across
your
stomach, dipping down between your legs. You let your head fall back as
he caresses
inside you, making a strange clicking noise in the back of his
throat.
“I
don't know . . .” he says finally, slipping his fingers out and climbing
back up
the bed to straddle you. You meet his eyes, and he begins licking
his
fingers slowly, running his tongue over them with his eyes locked to
yours.
“You
don’t know what?” you demand, your voice ragged. He continues to lap at
his
fingers, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully.
“Don’t
know if you’re ready. I think you need a little more encouragement.”
That
does it. The man has teased you, taunted you, stripped you in front of
a
Police Officer, handcuffed you to a /shower head/ . . . and now he’s fair
bidding
to make you lose your mind completely. You surge upwards suddenly,
relying
on shock to give you the split-second advantage you’d never have
otherwise.
You manage to successfully topple Obi-Wan--part of you insisting
that he
must want it since you really could never overpower a Jedi--and you
straddle
him, bracing your hands on his shoulders.
“No
more teasing, Jedi,” you growl, your fingers clenching into hard muscle.
Obi-Wan
just smiles at you, lifting his hand and beginning to suck on the
fingers
again while the other hand slides up to rest in the small of your
back.
It’s
been a long time since your last intimate encounter--but that doesn’t
mean
you’ve forgotten what will wipe the smug grin right off of his face.
You
slide backwards a few inches, situating yourself directly above his
hardness,
and start to rock slowly back and forth.
Obi-Wan
throws back his head and groans, fingers falling to the bed
forgotten.
The hand on your back starts to clench convulsively, and you
watch
in amusement as the self-contained Jedi fights for his control.
Suddenly
two strong hands lock around your waist, dragging you up so that
you’re
straddling his chest instead of more entertaining things. You pout
down at
him, and he growls in response.
“I said
no more teasing,” you remind him softly, grinding yourself against
his
chest and watching as he gasps slightly.
“Teasing?
You haven’t seen teasing yet,” he responds, hands lifting you up
easily
and tossing you sideways onto the bed. He’s on you in a second, his
hips
hovering above yours. You try to wrap your legs around him, but find
yourself
incapable of moving. He grins as realization lights your eyes, and
grinds
his still fully-clothed hips against you for an agonizing second,
pulling
away when he hears you gasp.
::No
man should have control like this . . .:: you think faintly as he
repeats
the gesture, apparently as comfortable as can be despite the
obviously
straining erection pressing against the confines of his pants.
Holding
his entire body above yours, Obi-Wan reaches down with his mouth and
seals
his lips to yours, the single contact flaring brightly because it is
all you
can feel of him. His tongue darts out to lick your lips, but you
keep
them clenched decidedly shut, deciding to test his resolve.
“Oh,
you want to play, do you?” he purrs against your mouth. Suddenly his
knees
are on either side of your waist, your arms pinned beneath them.
Placing
a hand on either side of your head, he leans down and begins to lick
your
lips slowly, just the tip of his tongue trailing over them. That soon
leads
into a firm pressure as his tongue plunges repeatedly at your lips,
demanding
entrance.
You’re
so caught up in your battle not to yield that you don’t even notice
that
one hand is moving until you feel it between your legs. Reaching behind
himself,
Obi-Wan slips the finger in to you and starts to tease the bundle
of
nerves, causing you to gasp loudly.
That’s
all the opening he needs, and his tongue swarms into your mouth,
marking
territory that had been denied him. His tongue starts to slowly
slide
against yours, mimicking the movement of his hand below your waist.
You
groan, the groan increasing as he starts to suck, his mouth forming a
vacuum
that steals your breath, and drags your tongue into his mouth.
You
moan as the hand between your leg retreats, sliding teasingly over your
stomach
before coming to rest on your face. You can feel the wetness against
your
forehead as he drags a finger down between your eyes and across the
bridge
of your nose, and you stifle a gasp as his mouth leaves yours to
trace
the path, licking at the moisture enthusiastically.
An
exploratory wiggle of your fingers tells you that your hand is free now,
and you
take advantage of his distraction to free one arm, reaching up
between
you to cup the bulge in his pants gently.
He
pulls back with a startled explanation, words dying on his lips as he
looks
down to meet your eyes. Your hand continues to caress, following the
length
as best you can with the barrier of his pants.
“I want
to touch you,” you whisper softly. “Please.”
He
reaches down to kiss you again, his mouth grinding forcefully against
yours
as tongues duel fiercely. Your hand never stops it’s ministrations,
squeezing
occasionally and enjoying the sudden burst of energy it lends to
his
kiss.
Finally
Obi-Wan pulls back, breathing ragged, and climbs from the bed. “I
could
never deny a naked woman anything,” he purrs, his hand going to the
tie on
his pants. You roll over and prop your head up on your elbow, giving
him
your full attention.
And
then his pants hit the floor, and you’ve got something else demanding
your
full attention.
Chapter
7
For a
few moments he just stands there, letting your eyes roam over his
body--which
they do. He is perfect in every sense of the word--muscles
carved
from steel covered with unblemished tan skin that looked ridiculously
soft.
Your eyes travel slowly up his legs, marveling at the power implicit
in his
powerful thighs.
You
must have some kind of predatory expression on your face, because he
shifts
self-consciously, the tips of his ears turning pink. You let out a
throaty
laugh, gazing up into his eyes.
“What,
you don’t think turnabout is fair play?” you ask teasingly. “After
all,
you spent a great deal of time staring at me.”
The
cocky grin returns, and Obi-Wan moves to place his hands on his hips.
“Well,
when you put it that way,” he says almost purrs, cocking one leg to
the
side and adopting The Stance, the one that made women everywhere melt
into
puddles of goo on the floor.
Determined
to be stronger than women everywhere, you resist the temptation
to melt
into the bed, choosing instead to continue your appraisal of your
prize.
Taking
up where you left off, your eyes fall to those magnificently formed
legs,
caressing them with your gaze before continuing to move upwards, slim
powerful
hips and . . .
You
can’t help the way your eyes widen slightly as they fall on the erection
jutting
out proudly. The sight of him makes you swallow nervously--you’re
not
exactly a large woman--and now you can see that he’s /far/ from being a
small
man. Suddenly it comes back to you in a rush how long it’s been since
your
last boyfriend--and how sexually unfufilling that relationship really
was.
You don’t have the skill or experience to please this magnificent
creature--you
must have been insane to think . . .
A faint
brush of pressure under your chin forces your face up to meet his
gaze,
and your breath is stolen by the desire written plainly across the
strong
features.
“I want
you,” he says softly. You watch, entranced, as his hand slides up to
grip
his shaft, rubbing it softly while staring at you, mouth parted
slightly.
His head tilts back as his breathing speeds up, hand still moving
with
agonizing slowness. “Please,” he moans softly.
Well,
that won’t do at all. Sliding from the bed you reach up to pull on
Obi-Wan,
dragging him to the floor and pulling his hands firmly away from
his
body. “My turn,” you whisper huskily, confidence returned. Your
practical
experience may not be all that great, you decide, but the amount
of time
you’ve spent fantasizing about having this man sprawled before you
should
make up for it. Between fantasy, enthusiasm, and imagination, you
figure
you’ve got it covered.
For the
moment you ignore his erection, opting to explore territory you’ve
been
denied all night. Your hands land on his chest, circling slowly up
towards
his shoulders as you lean down to latch onto one of his nipples,
teasing
it into hardness with your teeth and tongue. The sharp gasp
underneath
you is rewarding, and you smile against his skin as his hands
come up
to clasp your head to him, tangling in your hair.
“How am
I doing?” you ask him breathlessly, looking up to meet his eyes with
a
wide-eyed gaze. Without saying anything you swing a leg over his hips and
straddle
his chest, reaching behind you to run a teasing finger up along his
hardness.
“I’m not very experienced at this, you know,” you tell him softly,
ignoring
his moan as you grind your body against him.
Obi-Wan
groans. “I have difficulty believing that,” he gasps, breaking off
in
another moan as you encircle his length in one hand, keeping your touch
purposely
more gentle than he wants. He tries to thrust into your hand, but
you
grind down into him again, pinning his hips to the floor.
“Stop
trying to take control of this,” you admonish, reaching down to nibble
on his
chin. “I’ll never learn if I don’t get to do this for myself.” You
begin
your soft stroking again, your confidence boosted by his short breathy
gasps.
“I
don’t--don’t think you ha--have much to learn,” Obi-Wan forces out, eyes
clenched
shut tightly as your hand continues to play up and down his length.
You
slide off of him suddenly, moving around so that you’re kneeling between
his
legs. He barely has time for a strangled, “Where--” before you’re on him
again,
this time taking him in your mouth.
His
hips arch up off of the floor before he can help himself, and you’re
forced
to draw back as his length shoves painfully deep into your mouth.
“Please--”
the strangled gasp makes you look up. His head is arched off the
floor,
eyes cloudy with need and passion--for you. All for you.
“Gently,”
you say softly. “I’ve never done this before.” Somehow it doesn’t
seem
embarrassing to admit your lack of experience to this man--not when
he’s
gazing at you as if you were responsible for the creation of pleasure.
He nods
at you before letting his head drop back to the floor, one hand
reaching
over and tangling the in the blanket that is half on the floor. You
smile
and grace his inner thigh with a gentle kiss before taking him again.
His
hips begin rocking in time with your suckling, but he keeps himself from
thrusting
into your mouth again. You try to take him more deeply once, but
find
yourself unable to relax your throat muscles. ::Okay,:: you think,
trying
to make up with enthusiasm what you can’t grant with quality. ::So
maybe a
little bit of experience would be nice right now.::
::You’re
almost killing me as it is.:: The voice in your head is laden with
passion,
and you look up to see Obi-Wan trying to catch your eyes. ::You
don’t
need anything else. You’re amaz--aahhhhhhh . . .::
You’re
amused to find that him moaning in your head is even more sensual
than
moaning out loud. Bending down again you’re determined to make him moan
even
louder.
You can
tell he’s close when something pushes your head back away from his
body,
and you glance up at him.
“I’m
going to--to--” he moans as you swoop back down to capture him in your
mouth
again, and the ghostly hands that push you away this time are much
less
firm.
“Isn’t
that the point?” you ask huskily. “I’ve certainly tried hard enough.”
“You
said--first time . . . Didn’t want to--”
You
growl at Obi-Wan and pierce his gaze with your own. “/I/ want to.”
Ignoring
his faint protests you lean down and capture his erection between
your
lips, doing your damnedest to bring him release.
His
hoarse cries as he explodes are gratifying, and you suck eagerly,
determined
to experience this man to the fullest. His hands fall to your
head
and tangle in your hair almost painfully as he thrashes and jerks
beneath
you. You are suprised to find that, contrary to the gossip of
several
friends, you actually enjoy the taste of him as you swallow deeply.
As the
tremors subside weak hands drag you up to be cradled in trembling
arms.
Obi-Wan’s face nuzzles into your neck as his breathing slowly
normalizes,
his arms tightening around you.
“You
had to have been lying,” he mumbles into your skin, one hand tracing up
and
down your back.
“What?”
you question, pulling back so that you can see his eyes.
“Lying,”
he responds. “If that was your first time doing that, I’m seriously
considering
bringing you home with me. I’d love to see what you could do
with a
little practice.” His smile is warm as he leans in to kiss you slowly
and
gently, letting the fire stay doused for the time being. “You do
realize,
however, that I’m going to have to pay you back for that?”
“And
how exactly do you propose to do that?” you ask, sliding your lips from
his to
kiss his cheek.
“Trust
me, my lady--I will find a way. Several ways, I’m sure.”
::Several,::
you think to yourself faintly as strong arms gather you up and
toss
you towards the bed. ::Oh boy--this’ll make a story to tell my list
sibs.::
The End