*************
Title:
“Double Dare” ABH
Author:
Darth Diebin <[email protected]>
*************
Rating:
Sex
Archive:
Sure! Take it if ya want it.
Disclaimer:
I can claim no ownership to Obi-Wan--that Lucas guy is one hell
of a
Sabaac player, and I should have know better than to bet my only body
slave.
*pout*
Dedicated:
To Everyone. ;) (See, nice and general, but you all deserve it.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter
1
You’ll
never be completely sure how you let yourself get roped into this,
but
you’re relatively sure that this is one dare that you will never, ever
be able
to live down.
And at
twenty-two, you’re far too old to be accepting dares. Especially
childish
dares from you arch-nemesis--hell, even /having/ an arch-nemesis is
something
you should have left behind long ago.
But she
challenged you, in the same tone she used to use when you were eight
and
trying to prove that being the smallest in the group didn’t make you the
baby.
She could get you to do anything back then by staring down her nose at
you and
using that ‘mightier-than-thou’ tone of voice--and you’re more than
a
little ashamed that you rose as quickly to the challenge tonight as you
would
have twelve years ago.
Your
challenge is sitting across the bar from you, half-hidden in a corner.
He
doesn’t appear to be drinking, which would put him in unique company in a
place
like this. He looks out of place--almost as out of place as you. You
don’t
even really like bars--you haven’t drank since that night, two years
ago,
when--
No. Now
is not the time for thoughts of the past. Now is the time to turn
around,
walk away from the bar, and tell the bitch where to shove her
immature,
childish challenges.
It had
all started so innocently too. A spontaneous dinner with a few old
friends--all
of whom had sworn left and right that they didn’t know /she/
was
coming. You had remained civil throughout the meal, ignoring the taunts
about
your job, your looks, your lack of a man in your life.
You’d
endured it throughout the meal. You’d ignored it when she continued
over
drinks at a nearby bar. What you couldn’t ignore was when she started
boasting
about how unbelievably /happy/ she was with your ex-fiancee--the
man she
had stolen practically out of your arms--and how unbelievably happy
/he/
was with /her/.
Like he
hadn’t been with you. She even said it outloud, the bitch.
And it
had all gone downhill from there. The resumption of your life-long
bickering,
her insinuation that you couldn’t really blame your ex,
considering
that you really couldn’t please a man. Her flat out statement
that
you couldn’t pick up a man if you tried--and your counter statement
that
you could get any man in the bar if you wanted, which was a blatant
bluff--you
didn’t know if you could pick up a half-drunk desperate teenager
right
now.
Perversity
drove you to accept the challenge, and you crossed your arms
across
your chest and lazily demanded that she pick your target--just to
make
things interesting of course.
You
hadn’t quite understood the smug smile on her face as she pointed to a
rather
attractive man in the corner. Several of your companions tittered or
broke
out into outright laughter--but that hadn’t been enough to dissuade
you.
“Not a
problem,” you stated coolly, ignoring the warning glance from your
best
friend. You were already a few steps away from the table before your
friend
caught your arm.
“He’s a
Jedi,” she hissed in your ear, spinning you around to face her.
“That’s
why they’re all laughing. And because the Bitch has tried to pick
this
one up before--and he set her right down on her ass.”
Great.
Bitch she may be, but she’s one of the sexiest women you’ve ever met.
If this
guy blew her off, he’d probably mind whammy you into leaving him
alone
before you get within five feet of the table.
“You
know I can’t turn back now,” you said softly, ignoring the way your
friend
rolled her eyes. “It’s my pride.”
“Yeah--and
it’ll still be your pride when you’re trying to woo one of the
stoic
unflappable Jedi.” Giving you an exasperated look, your friend
returned
to the bar, shaking her head.
And
leaving you staring across the bar at one of the most attractive men
you’ve
ever met, with no idea of how to proceed.
You
haven’t gone looking for men in a long time. You’d been convinced your
fiancee
was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life
with--finding
out that he was cheating on you with the Bitch had nearly
broken
your heart, and watching him calmly pack his bags to leave you for
her had
shattered you. It had been two and a half years since that day--with
only a
few one time dates to break up the otherwise monotonous string of
lonely
evenings.
You
take another look at the man. He’s sitting by himself, obviously lost in
thought.
You’re convinced he must be waiting for someone--why else would he
be
sitting in a crowded bar when he was obviously not drinking?
You
move a little closer, ducking behind a large group of people and coming
up
slightly behind him, giving you a good view of his table. He has a
notebook
in front of him, and every once in a while he’ll bend down and add
a few
strokes to something he’s working on.
Inching
up you see to your surprise that it’s a sketchpad--the man is
apparently
drawing various characters from the bar, interspersing them
across
the page as he idly adds lines and smudges, making it look like it’s
effortless.
Your
breath catches as you take a second look--he’s /good/. Really, really
good.
You’re
so caught up in his sketch pad that you don’t realize he’s noticed
you
until a gentle cough brings you out of your daze. Turning your head,
you’re
promptly lost again as you meet a pair of the most brilliant eyes
you’ve
ever seen. There is no color that can describe them, a mixture of
gray
and green and blue and gold . . . You finding yourself casting through
the
various languages your job as a translator requires you to speak--and
come up
with no word in any language that does him justice.
“Can I
help you?” he asks, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly.
Damn.
You can’t win with this man--his voice is as beautiful as the rest of
him,
and you find yourself marveling at the smooth refined tones, the depth
and
quality of the sound. You can’t help but imagine what it would be like
to hear
him sing . . . to hear him moan . . .
“Not
all that impressive, I’m sure--and I can’t sing a note.”
You
blink once before you realize the implications of what he just said.
::Damn
bastard is /reading/ me,:: you think, slamming up the shields you
were
taught to erect as part of your training as Temple staff. You had
scoffed
at the lessons then--although you’re technically employed by the
Jedi
Temple, you have very little contact with the actual Jedi. You have
always
worked from home, doing obscure translations and the occasional
consulting--only
having contact with the librarian and Mace Windu, the man
who
actually pays you. Now, however, you’re glad for the protection
shielding
offers you.
Now
it’s his turn to blink, as he feels the shields slide up around your
mind,
blocking him out effectively. The tips of his ears turn pink--you
presume
from being caught snooping--and you can’t help but smile.
“Was I
not supposed to notice that you’d answered one of my thoughts?” you
ask
him, taking the liberty of plopping down in the chair across from his
booth.
You’re going to win this challenge if it kills you.
“You’d
be surprised how many people don’t,” the man responds wryly, reaching
out to
casually flip his sketchbook closed before reaching out a hand to
you.
“I’m Obi-Wan, and I believe I owe you a drink for being so
presumptuous.”
Damn,
this might actually be easy. He’s trying to pick /you/ up!
“I
don’t drink,” you respond automatically, flashing a smile at him. “And I
understand
that you weren’t trying to snoop. I’ve been told before that I
have a
rather loud mind--and when I’m not shielding I’ve been known to make
my
feelings known by Jedi two levels down.”
“You
were broadcasting rather loudly,” Obi-Wan responds, smiling at you in
return.
The smile brings dimples to his face--::/Dimples/! The man has
/dimples/!::--and
you have to suppress a gasp at how beautiful he is. “And
here I
was hoping it was because you were excited about me.”
Your
heart stops as he lets his eyelids droop over his eyes, gazing at you
through
the thick lashes with one of the most seductive looks you’ve ever
seen in
your life.
Pick
him up. You’re supposed to pick him up. Sweet Lord--right now you’d
settle
for tossing him down and launching yourself at him.
His
strong fingers are suddenly on yours, twining with them and drawing your
hand up
to his mouth. He graces your knuckles with a soft kiss, parting his
lips
minutely to let his tongue slip out and trace lightly against your
skin.
You let out a barely audible moan as he turns your wrist over,
attacking
the inside of your wrist with feather-like kisses that turn into
rather
enthusiastic sucking.
“How
about we skip the drink,” he says suddenly, grabbing his sketch pad in
one
hand and tucking it in his belt behind his back before grasping your
hand in
his. “I think a little fresh air is in order.”
Before
you can even blink he’s steering you across the bar, leading you
within
inches of the Bitch and the rest of your friends. She’s got a
positively
murderous look on her face, but your best friend is grinning ear
to ear.
A few
feet past your friend’s table Obi-Wan suddenly stops, spinning you and
pinning
you up against the wall within arm’s reach of the Bitch. “Enjoy
this,”
he murmurs softly in your ear, flashing you a mischievous smile as he
presses
his long body against yours, trapping you against the wall.
Strong
hands grasp your face suddenly, tilting your head back as a pair of
warm
lips descend upon your own, sending jolts of electricity through your
entire
body. You can hardly think enough to respond, but Obi-Wan hardly
seems
to need encouragement. One hand strays to the back of your head,
sinking
in your hair as his mouth slants sideways across yours, urging your
lips
open with a few flicks of his persistent tongue.
Almost
against your will your hands slide up his chest, wrapping around his
neck
and hanging on for dear life as he continues to slowly deepen the kiss,
tongue
stroking against yours now in an intoxicating dance. He sucks your
tongue
into his mouth, nibbling on the tip before pulling back to suck on
your
lower lip gently.
“Let’s
go back to my place,” he murmurs rather loudly, one arm wrapping
around
you and urging you back into motion. You have just enough time to see
the
others at your table giving the Bitch a hard time before you’re whisked
out the
door.
Outside,
Obi-Wan releases you with a wide grin. “I think that should win
your
bet, don’t you?” he asks mischievously, moving to lean back against the
wall,
arms draped over his chest. “And shut that woman up for at least a
little
while.”
You
stare at him for a few moments in shock. He /knew/ about the bet. He
must
have heard you thinking about it as you approached him--::/Damn/ my
loud
mind,::--and he had decided to play along . . .
. . .
which meant the kiss had been an act. For a few moments you’re
disappointed--but
thinking about what the Bitch must be going through right
now
sends you off into hysterical laughter, barely able to breath. “Oh dear
gods--if
only I could have seen her face,” you gasp out, trying to control
your
laughter. “It must have been classic!”
Obi-Wan
holds out a hand, his own chest starting to shake with laughter.
“C’mere--I
got a glance of it. Lower your shields and I’ll show you.”
Grasping
your outstretched hand he pulls you closer, still smiling. “I’ll
admit,
it was pretty funny.”
You let
down your shields, not sure what is going to happen but willing to
trust
him. An image suddenly forms in your mind, and you close your eyes to
better
appreciate it.
You see
the Bitch, staring back at you with an expression of shocked disgust
on her
face. Through Obi-Wan’s eyes she seems almost ugly, her perfectly
styled
hair seeming fake, her make-up overdone, and her personality shining
through,
giving her a nasty aura. ::So that’s what it’s like to see
emotions,::
you think absently.
::Her
aura is repulsive,:: Obi-Wan responds to your thought, amusement
flowing
across to you as you start at the voice in your head. ::Despite her
physical
appeal, it makes her ugly.::
The
view shifts to another woman--this one resembling you. Only it’s not
you--at
least, not the person you see in the mirror every morning. Obi-Wan’s
version
of you is stunning, sparkling eyes and vibrant personality glowing
from
your face.
Before
you can properly marvel at this new view of yourself, Obi-Wan’s eyes
slide
closed, blocking off your vision. There’s darkness for a few moments,
and
then a tiny slit of light as Obi-Wan apparently cracked his eyes open,
glancing
at the Bitch.
Her
face is worth it. Her mouth is hanging half-open, her eyes narrowed to
little
slits. Jealousy, anger, defeat--all dance merrily around her face,
even as
one of your friends leans over to mock her.
Then
the view shifts back to you, and you catch your breath at the vision of
yourself,
flushed cheeks--head tilted back and eyes half open, containing
beauty
that you don’t have in real life, sparkling and vibrant and alive--
An arch
of desire shoots through the picture, destroying it. Your eyes fly
open
and you stare up at Obi-Wan, not moving. He’s gazing down at you, eyes
burning
with desire--real desire this time--and a question.
“I
don’t usually,” he starts, voice harsh. “I mean, I don’t ever--”
“I
know,” you respond, your voice just as ragged. The question in his eyes
is
answered in yours, and you feel your body moving suddenly. Your back
impacts
the wall as you’re lifted, crushed into it by a hard body. Arms and
legs go
around him even as he leans in, claiming your mouth almost
frantically.
Lips
crush together and open, his tongue swarming into your mouth and
exploring
with unbridled enthusiasm. You moan deep in your throat, tangling
hands
in his hair and trying to get him closer to you by thrusting your hips
against
his urgently. He’s moaning too now, short little sounds of need as
he
tilts his head sideways, trying to get deeper within your mouth even as
he
grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the hardness there.
Voices
from around the corner bring you both out of your haze. Obi-Wan pulls
back,
letting his head fall against the wall behind you as he gasps for
breath.
“I, my
place is--” you start nervously, unsure what you’re doing. You don’t
bring
guys home. Especially guys you’ve never met before.
But
he’s a Jedi. And if there’s one thing you’ve learned working for the
Temple,
it’s that Jedi can be trusted.
“Are
you sure?” he asks softly, pulling his head back to meet your eyes.
You
smile, leaning forwards to place a kiss between his eyes. “Only if you
are,”
you say softly.
Obi-Wan
groans as he lowers you to the ground, pulling you against his body
again.
“Don’t want to let go of you,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your
neck.
You let out a whimper as he attaches lips to the pulse on your throat,
sucking
hard.
“If we
don’t go now, we’re not going to make it,” you whisper, hands sliding
down
his back to cup his butt, squeezing the rock hard muscle with a shiver.
His
entire body is like that--hard and lean and powerful. A delighted shiver
runs
through your body as his hands mirror yours, sliding down to rub your
hips
and lower thighs.
“Let’s
go,” he whispers against your neck. His fingers come up to twine with
yours,
pulling you into moving. “Where are we going?”
You
glance around, trying to get your bearings--and effort that is destroyed
as Obi-Wan
moves behind you, pressing his body against yours. He /is/ all
lean
muscle, heat radiating from him. And there’s something rather more hard
poking
you in the small of the back.
You
dazedly head off in the direction of your apartment, hoping against all
hope
that you’ll make it before you explode.
~~~~~~
Chapter
2
How you
make it back without touching each other is debatable. He is
obviously
dressed as a Jedi, and you know that decorum is as much a part of
him as
breathing--but the sweaty grasp he has on your hand tells you louder
than
words that he’s fighting for every shred of dignity.
Thankfully
your apartment is close, and somehow you both make it into the
lift
without giving away your frantic need to be naked with one
another--right
now you’re not to picky about particulars as long as clothing
isn’t
involved.
The
door has only barely slid closed when Obi-Wan plants his hands on your
backside,
lifting you up and pressing you into the wall with his body. Once
again
your legs go around him, pulling him closer as he tilts his head
sideways
and captures your mouth with his.
Entranced
as you are with the play of his tongue against yours, it takes you
a few
moments to realize that the lift has stopped--and not at your floor.
Yanking
away, you stare over Obi-Wan’s shoulder at the old couple who has
stepped
into the lift, both gazing at you with a combination of shock and
amusement.
Obi-Wan
follows your gaze and lowers you immediately, blushing a brilliant
scarlet.
“Terribly sorry,” he starts, eyes widening as the woman totters
over to
you and pats you on the face before leaning closer to you.
“Better
watch out for this one, deary--” she tells you in a stage whisper
that
could easily be heard fifty feet away. “Those Jedi never seem to get
tired.
They’ll go all night if you let them.”
Obi-Wan’s
eyes are as wide as saucers as the woman turns to him, reaching up
to
pinch his cheek. “You ever get bored you look me up, eh cutie?” she says,
her
wrinkled little face breaking out into a smile. Then, with a perfectly
straight
face, she reaches out to smack Obi-Wan on that beautifully formed
backside.
“Hey
now,” the older man protests, reaching out to the old woman’s hand,
pulling
her back to him.
“When’s
the last time you pushed me up against a wall?” the old woman
demands,
winking at you as the lift whirs to a stop. “You remember what I
said,
dearie,” she tells you, leading the old man out of the lift.
As the
door slides closed you risk a look at Obi-Wan. He’s still standing
still,
eyes wide, mouth slightly gaping, and cheeks flaming. The expression
on his
face is so comical that you slide to the floor, giggling, biting your
hand to
keep from outright laughing.
“Oh,
you think that’s funny?” Obi-Wan demands, spinning to glare down at
you.
Without a word he swoops down and picks you up, flinging you over one
well muscled
shoulder and ignoring your laughing protests. “We’ll just see.
How do
you know she wasn’t telling the truth? Maybe I /can/ go all night.”
There’s
really nothing you can think of to say to that--well, nothing that
wouldn’t
sound like a challenge, and you’re not sure you’re quite ready to
issue a
challenge to a man who is currently carting you around like a sack
of
grain.
The
lift door whisks open on your floor, and Obi-Wan steps out into the
blessedly
empty hallway. “Which room?” he asks, one hand starting to massage
your
upper thigh gently. His hand is warm through the fabric of your thin
pants,
and it takes all of your self-control to speak calmly.
“Seventeen
forty-five,” you say softly, ignoring the bolts of pleasure that
arch
through you as his hand creeps up further. You can see the ground
moving
by as he starts to walk, long strides bringing him quickly to the
correct
door. He spins, bringing your face level with the keypad, and you
quickly
enter the code and palm the door open.
Once
inside you find yourself deposited on the floor next to the door,
Obi-Wan
spinning and placing hand on either side of your head, leaning down
so that
his face is on level with yours.
“If you
don’t want to do this, tell me now,” he says softly, meeting your
eyes.
They’re uncertain, and you realize with a shock that you had lifted
your
shields again, blocking him from reading your pleasure and desire.
Reaching
up you grasp each of his hands in one of yours, leading them down
to your
upper thighs. Wrapping your arms around him you bounce up into the
air,
wrapping your legs around him and trusting him to keep his balance.
He
does, hands coming to clench your ass tightly as he pushes you back into
the
wall.
“Isn’t
this where we left off before?” you ask, lowering your shields and
letting
your thoughts spill out at the top of your rather loud mental voice.
“We
keep getting to this point, but people keep interrupting us. I rather
like it
here.”
Obi-Wan
is frozen for a moment as your lust spills over him, but he recovers
quickly,
grinding his hips into yours as his mouth descends to yours, tongue
demanding
instant entrance.
Your
lips part to accommodate him, and you groan loudly as his tongue twines
around
yours, sliding back and forth with the same rhythm of his rocking
hips.
Short breathy noises start coming from your throat--a cross between a
whimper
and a moan.
“Bed?”
he gasps, tearing his lips away to attack your jawline, tongue
sliding
up and down the sensitive flesh until he reaches your earlobe,
biting
down. You let out a loud moan, thinking the location of your bedroom
at him
with all of your might.
A few
moments later you’re both stumbling towards the room, Obi-Wan trying
to unbutton
your shirt as you grope frantically at the strange clasp on his
pants.
He trips over a pair of your shoes just inside the doorway to your
bedroom,
going down and bringing you on top of him with the distinct sound
of
ripping fabric.
“Sorry--”
he gasps out, holding up the ripped edge of your shirt. You
capture
his lips with yours, grinding yourself against him. You could care
less
about your shirt right now--all you want is for him to repeat the
gesture
on your bra.
Strong
nimble fingers start groping at your back, finding the clasps that
holds
your bra together and fumbling with them. You shoot him a mental
picture
of how to undo the clasps, amused at his lack of knowledge.
Your
amusement fades into need as he succeeds, freeing your breasts to swing
above
his chest. Without losing a beat his hands come up to tangle in your
hair,
pulling you away from his mouth so that he can catch one of your
already
hard nipples between his lips, tugging on it insistently.
You let
out a loud keening noise, arching your back to press more of
yourself
into his mouth. He suckles obediently for a few minutes, hands
still
tangled in your hair and massaging the back of your head.
You
whimper in protest as he pulls back, but a few minutes later you feel
his
clothed torso against yours, lifting you to toss you the few remaining
feet to
the bed. He’s with you a few minutes later, long fingers working
frantically
at the ties to his tunic as your hands come up to unclasp his
belt
and pull on his sash.
When he
settles his bare chest on top of yours you sigh happily, arching up
to
press yourself more firmly against his chest. He wiggles a little bit,
letting
you feel the hard pressure against your hip.
“Pants--”
you gasp out. “Get rid of them.”
“Anxious,
aren’t you?” Obi-Wan responds, but you’re pleased to hear that his
voice
is every bit as breathless as yours. He obediently rises up to his
knees,
fingers working to unclasp his trousers.
As soon
as he has them shoved down over his hips you pull him back down,
shoving
the fabric the rest of the way down his legs with your feet. With
only a
thin layer of fabric between you and his erection, the searing heat
and
throbbing hardness is painfully obvious.
Squirming
out from underneath him you nudge him onto his back, gazing down
at him.
He’s sprawled out almost drunkenly on your bed, eyes half closed and
chest
rising and falling erratically. His hands reach for you, but you swat
them
back to the bed, determined to fill him with the same burning need that
he’s
inspired in you.
Your
hands land on the bulge in his thin undergarment, eliciting a loud moan
from
him. Ignoring the way his hips lurch off the bed you start to slowly
inch
the cloth down, lavishing the skin revealed with kisses and licks.
When
his erection bounces free and you grace the tip with a kiss, Obi-Wan
growls
loudly, arching off the bed. Before you know what’s happening gentle
currents
of air have snatched you up, tugging you insistently towards the
head of
the bed.
Obi-Wan
looks wild as he rises from his reclined position, long fingers
frantically
tugging on the buttons of your pants. In only a few moments he’s
stripped
them from your body, diving down with a low rumble to press a kiss
against
your already wet panties.
Now
it’s your turn to arch off the bed as he rumbles in approval, fingers
coaxing
the unwanted fabric down your legs. For a moment he freezes, gazing
up
across your body at you, urging you to meet his eyes.
You
do--and for a moment disorientation seizes you as you catch the image of
yourself,
sprawled wantonly on the bed, eyes wide and passionate, head
tilted
back in ecstasy. You feel the gentle tug of his mind around yours as
he
spreads your legs with careful hands before running his thumb quickly
over
your clit, eliciting a moan as you body arches into the touch.
“Don’t--don’t
tease,” you manage to gasp out as he does it again, leaning
down to
nibble on your inner thigh. “Please . . . .”
“Patience,”
is his only response, a somewhat muffled one at that since he’s
decided
to bury his face between your legs. All you can feel is the heat of
his
tongue as it snakes out to taste you--all you can hear are his soft
moans
and your own harsh breathing as one of his fingers slicks into you.
Feeling
the presence of his mind still wrapped around yours, you think a
single
word at him with all of your might. ::Now!::
::Yes,::
he responds, and suddenly he’s there--on top of you, over you, in
you--
You
gasp out in pain as he slides in, pain that he shares with you through
your
linked minds. “You’re not--” he gasps out, eyes clenched shut. “You
didn’t
tell me--”
“I’m
not--” you reply, color rising up in your cheeks. “I just--” What
should
you tell him? That you haven’t had sex in two years because of a bad
experience?
Okay--maybe you’re a little tight, and maybe he’s a little large
. . .
Suddenly
he’s not in you any more, and you cry out in loss, even as the pain
recedes.
“Shhhh . . .” he soothes from above you, catching your lips in his
and
kissing you tenderly as his fingers creep down to slip inside you,
moving
gently.
You can
/feel/ the strange energy vibrating within you as he soothes the
muscles
into relaxing. It’s almost unbearably erotic, and the combination of
his
fingers moving within you and his mouth on yours is so overpowering you
can
barely even think.
Then
his fingers are gone, and there is something else pressing at you
again.
This time he inches in slowly, pausing as you adjust to his
considerable
size. His mouth never leaves yours, hands coming up to tangle
in your
hair and massage your scalp.
For a
few minutes he simply lays on top of you, breathing heavily with his
face
buried in your neck. Even when you start thrusting your hips, demanding
movement,
he still remains still--pulling back to stare down into your eyes.
“Not
yet,” he says softly, his eyes dilated and breath short from the effort
of
staying still.
Wrapping
your legs around his back you arch up, grinding into him. “Now,”
you
respond. He groans as you repeat the gesture, his head falling back on
his
shoulders leaving the expanse of his neck open to you.
Taking
advantage of it you reach up to kiss the throbbing pulse beneath the
skin of
his throat, sucking at the sensitive skin even as you grind your
hips
into his again.
“Now,”
you repeat.
“Now,”
he agrees.
And
then his hands are on your hips, holding you steady as he pulls back and
begins
slow, careful thrusts, angling each one to torture all the little
spots
inside you that no one had ever taken the time to find before. On the
first
thrust you scream out, head thrashing weakly on your pillow as your
hands
grip the blankets.
After a
little while his thrusts start to speed up, and he drops back closer
to you,
weight braced on elbows on either side of your head. You reach up
and
tangle hands in his hair, kissing him frantically as the speed of his
thrusts
continues to increase. He’s moaning, deep rumbling noises starting
in his
chest--rising louder and louder in counterpart to your own.
You can
feel yourself being propelled towards climax, can feel him right
behind
you as his pleasure wraps itself again and again around your mind.
When
the long fingers sneak down to tease your bundle of nerves, you break
away
from his mouth and scream, your muscles starting to contract around
him.
Obi-Wan
grunts, increasing his attentions as his hips piston faster.
Suddenly
he’s calling out too, sinking his face into your shoulder as he
thrusts
deeply into you one last time, his release so powerful that it tugs
your
mind with it as you spiral up again, the last thing you hear your name
being
called out by a frantic voice.
You
drift into awareness with his mouth on your ear, kissing you and
mumbling
your name as his hand traces invisible patterns on your back. Eyes
drifting
open you find yourself under the blankets, cradled against
Obi-Wan’s
chest with his leg thrown over yours protectively.
“You
think you can keep /that/ up all night?” It’s the first thing that pops
into
your mind, but apparently Obi-Wan finds it amusing. His gentle laugh
tickles
your ear, making you squirm weakly. You’re too boneless to do
anything
else.
“Well .
. .” his voice is low and seductive in your ear, and he lifts his
head to
meet your eyes. “Probably not all night,” he whispers, nuzzling your
face
with his nose. “If properly persuaded, however, I’m probably up to a
couple
of encores.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~