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Title: “The Scientific Method: Taste Tests”

 

Author: Darth Diebin <[email protected]>

 

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Arhive: Everyone! Take the plotless smut if you dare!

 

Rating: Unredeemably plotless smut.

 

Excuse: *points at BJ* It’s HER FAULT! Every time I talk to that girl plot

bunnies start attacking me, and this one was more persistant than most. I

offer no apology for the shamless plot-less-ness of this piece. Take it or

leave it, lovely list sibs!

Inspired by: Discussion on Jedihunks about the taste of Jedi, with and sans

topping.

 

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

 

“No no no no no!”

 

You barely get the words out over the intense giggles as Obi-Wan leans over

to lick a blob of whipped cream off of your shoulder.

 

Well, at least he /tries/ to get the whipped cream. Apparently the alcohol

has had as much of an affect on his aim as it has on your ability to get out

a coherent sentence. His mouth falls on your arm, which he happily licks

anyway, ignoring your protests. Although drunkeness has long since faded

into pleasant tipsyness, you both are acting more than a little inebriated.

 

“I’m supposed to taste /you/,” you cry out squirming backwards across the

floor, trying to dodge the various containers that are scattered across the

room. Your reflexes are suffering just as much as his, however, and you make

it about four inches before you collapse to the floor, laughing.

 

Obi-Wan blinks at you owlishly, swaying slightly as he inches close to you.

He is almost comical looking--traces of whipped cream and chocolate sauce

all over his face as testimony to the fact that you started getting a bit

lax in the ‘cleaning up’ part of the days little experiment.

 

“I think we should have stopped drinking a long time ago,” he admits to you,

collapsing on top of you and starting to lick at the chocolate sauce he just

smeared on your chin by mistake. “We’ve made a mess.”

 

“I had to see how you tasted with different toppings!” you reply, giggling

at the sensation of his mouth kissing your chin. Truth be told, you both

/did/ stop drinking a long time ago, but the affects of the alcohol are

still lingering stubbornly, making it difficult to do what you really want

to do.

 

Which is, of course, lick the rest of the experiment off of him and move

along to the control part of the experiment--tasting every inch of him

possible sans topping.

 

“Murmph,” is the only reply you get, the Padawan still diligently trying to

clean up the mess he’s making on you. Fortunately for you, he’s making very

little progress since every movement of his transfers a little bit of

dessert from his body to yours, making the clean-up process very difficult.

 

You don’t mind, however. You can tell that the mood has changed by the feel

of his mouth--before he was just licking, now he’s sucking and nibbling too,

the sensations racing through your body and chasing the alcohol away.

 

“Obi--” you breath, trying to squirm out from under him so that you can help

clean him up. After all, the quicker you’re both clean--

 

“No.” Aqua-gray eyes are suddenly in inch from yours, burning brightly. “No.

My turn.” His mouth falls to kiss the tip of your nose, tongue sneaking out

to trace the bridge until he reaches your forehead. “You’ve tasted me. My

turn now.”

 

“You’re drunk,” you accuse, cursing your own lack of coordination. Okay, so

there are worse things to endure than a lusty Padawan bent on licking every

inch of your skin--but dammit, you want to play too!

 

His lips claim yours in a fierce kiss, stealing your breath away. “No,” he

breaths as he pulls back slightly, speaking against your cheek. “It would

take a lot more than I drank to get a Jedi drunk . . .” He pauses for a

moment, and then adds thoughtfully, “On alcohol, at least.”

 

As his lips claim yours again, you decide it’s definitely time to give in

gracefully. He’s sexy, he’s covered in whipped cream, he’s sober enough to

give you pleasure--what on earth made you think you wanted to say ‘no’?

 

As his tongue slips into your mouth to duel with yours he starts to grind

his chest against your breasts. His chest is slippery from the various

toppings you decided he needed, and that rock-hard chest slipping against

your breasts teases your nipples into instant hardness. You let out a moan,

which he swallows, his tongue still bent on tasting every part of your

mouth.

 

After a few more minutes of tongue wrestling, he pulls back and sucks hard

on your lower lip for a few moments, eliciting another moan.

 

“I love the noises you make,” he whispers into your chin, biting softly.

“The more you make, the more reason you’ll have to make them.”

 

You almost want to suppress the whimper that comes to your lips as he

latches on to the side of your neck, but he knows it’s one of the more

sensitive spots on your body and continues to suck and nibble until you let

out a throaty whimper, writing slightly against his body.

 

He attacks the other side of your neck, sucking hard enough so that you know

you’ll have an embarrassing mark to explain tomorrow--but the feeling is so

exquisite that you have to fight the urge to pull him back to your neck when

he shifts downward to lick at your collarbone.

 

“Mmmmm,” he almost purrs, nuzzling your chin with his nose and forcing you

to tilt your head back so he has better access to your throat. “You taste

good with toppings or without.”

 

He bites your chin softly again, and then proceeds to nibble his way in a

straight line down the front of your throat, lapping at the hollow at the

base before continuing in a straight line down your chest, face coming to

rest between your breasts.

 

You purr deeply as his tongue slips out and starts to trace designs on your

skin, both of his hands coming up to cup your breasts gently. Fingers start

to caress your already hard nipples, rubbing the various remnants of your

experiment into your skin.

 

Obi-Wan lifts his head and smiles at you before diving in to attack one

nipple, catching it between warm lips and sucking vigorously. You can feel

his chuckle as your entire body arches upwards, trying to get closer to that

incredible suction. Inside the vacuum of his mouth his tongue starts to

twirl around the nipple, flicking it and playing with it as his lips almost

massage the area around it.

 

You cry out in dismay as his mouth moves away, lavishing only teasing licks

to the rest of your breast while his fingers play with your other nipple.

Your entire body arches again, trying to regain that warm heat.

 

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he says softly. “Well, I suppose . . .”

 

You don’t know whether the moan you let out is of pleasure or relief as his

mouth sinks down to your other breast, pulling and tugging at the painfully

hard nipple. Once again his tongue starts to tease you, and you tilt your

head back and whimper loudly.

 

A few more moments of attention and you start to become impatient for what

is to come. His bare hips straddling yours are enticing, and you begin to

grind your hips upwards, urging him to turn his attention south.

 

He obeys without a word, sliding down your body with a few teasing licks at

your stomach before parting you legs with gentle hands. He moves so quickly

that you’re not prepared for the searing sensation of his mouth covering

your opening, and you barely have time to catch your breath as he licks you

once, tongue dancing over sensitive skin and making you fight to catch your

breath.

 

Then he attacks in earnest now, face buried between your legs and tongue

lapping at you energetically. You throw dignity to the wind and begin crying

out in short, breathy moans that increase in volume as the speed of his

tongue increases.

 

Lips wrap around the little bundle of nerves inside you and suck, causing

you to hitch in your breath and let it out in a long, keening sound of need.

Your hips are bucking madly against him, but he continues to lick and suck

and nibble diligently.

 

When one long finger presses inside you you moan even louder, this time

catching your breath enough to speak.

 

“No! No fingers, no teasing! /YOU/!”

 

You arch up into a half sitting position, wrapping your hands around his

head and tugging. “Youyouyouyouyouyou,” you chant, unable to catch your

breath enough to make the words distinct. All you know is the burning need

inside you, the need this man has the power to fulfill.

 

He slides up your body slowly, lavishing your body with licks and love bites

as he goes. Finally, after what seems like years of tortured waiting, he’s

hovering above you, weight braced on his hands and knees.

 

“Ready?” he whispers softly. You respond by grabbing his head and pulling it

down to your for a long, searing kiss. He tastes of chocolate and whipped

cream and you--the combination so incredibly heady that you let out another

long tortured moan, arching your hips up in search of him.

 

Obi-Wan pushes you back to the ground, resting his weight on one elbow as

the other hand travels down to help part your legs before grasping his

length, guiding himself to your entrance.

 

He pauses for a moment to gather his willpower, knowing you are small and

not wanting to hurt you by entering to quickly.

 

Screw that. You reach up with your legs to wrap them around his back,

driving yourself upwards and impaling yourself on him with a cry of

satisfaction. The slight discomfort is immediately washed away in the

incredible feeling of fullness, the heat and throbbing need of this man.

 

Obi-Wan lets out a groan, letting his Jedi-calm drop for the first time that

night. Loving it, you grind up against him again, letting yourself fall back

slightly towards the ground before thrusting back upwards, almost as if

you’re riding him from beneath.

 

You only manage to do it twice before you feel your legs weakening, the

pleasure too much to retain control over yourself. At the same time you feel

his body bearing you down to the floor, covering you completely and filling

you utterly.

 

One hand digs into your thigh, bracing himself as Obi-Wan pulls back and

begins thrusting into you slowly, almost roughly despite his efforts to

control himself.

 

You love it--revel in the feeling of this calm and composed man losing

control because of you. You twine your hands with his free hand, guiding it

up above your head as you begin to thrust with him, your bodies slamming

together as the speed increases.

 

The hand on your thigh moves between your bodies, brushing your clit gently

before beginning to circle it, building the pressure up even higher. You let

out an uninhibited scream, thrilled when it’s echoed by his loud growling

roar.

 

And then you’re falling, plummeting into the depths of ecstasy, Obi-Wan’s

harsh cries following you downwards as you explode in a rush of heat and

fire and light . . .

 

You come back to yourself when you feel someone licking your ear. You turn

your head to see Obi-Wan curled up in front of you, cradling your body to

his.

 

“Sorry,” he says softly. “I think I brought you somewhere you weren’t quite

ready to go.”

 

“No,” you correct, leaning up to kiss those swollen lips gently. “I’ll go

anywhere you want to lead, my tasty Jedi.”

 

“We never did finish that experiment,” Obi-Wan replies thoughtfully. “I’ve

got an idea--as soon as my knees solidify, we can remove ourselves to the

shower to clean off, and then you can see if I taste as good without

toppings as I apparently do with.”

 

“Science demands it,” you agree, cuddling closer. “But I agree about the

knees solidifying part.”

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