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ABH: Sick Day

by: C. I. Jackson

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RATING: NC-17

SUMMARY: A sexy padawan gives you a great reason to blow off work.

DISCLAIMER: George owns Obi-Wan. Don't worry, George, I'll return him in the same condition you left him in, just don't ask me to explain the huge grin he'll have on his face.

FEEDBACK: Sure.:)

ARCHIVE: Wherever, just let me know first.

The yammering clock radio jolts you awake. You've set it an maximum volume because you know that if you didn't you'd sleep right through it. You feel special resentment toward the hellish thing this morning, because it dragged you out of a very hot dream about Obi-Wan. You know your list sibs on Jedihunks are getting to you, because you _never_ have Obi dreams that good and you silently thank them for it. And you curse the deejay for breaking that sweet dream.

"Arrgh! Make the bad man stop!" You whine pathetically and look over. 6:00 am. Time to get up for work. You consider hitting the snooze button, but that would just make it harder to drag your unwilling carcass out of bed later, so you bite the bullet and throw the covers aside. You get out of bed and stumble blindly toward the bathroom, nearly tripping over the cat along the way.

You turn on the bathtub faucet, getting the water to the right temperature, then step in and gasp when a brief gust of ice cold water hits you. Then the water turns warm and you just stand there for a moment, trying not to give an answer to the question "is it possible for someone to fall asleep standing up?"

You sigh loudly. "Another day, another 70 cents to every dollar a man makes," you remark to yourself with bitter amusement. You're not as surly as you usually are in the morning, because you're remembering the dream. His hands on you, stroking your pleasure points, his mouth...

You quickly wash yourself and your hair, feeling so warm and melting as you rinse off, because you're imagining that it's _his_ hands skimming your body, sliding through lather, slick. "Oh, good lord," you say to yourself, knowing that you can't take this further. So you turn off the shower and get out, wincing at the cold air that hits you. You dry off a little, wrap the towel around your torso, brush your teeth and head back to your bedroom.

Instead of commencing your morning ritual, you flop down on the bed and close your eyes, searching for an excuse to blow off work. You just don't have it in you today. You roll over on your side...

...and into a wall of man.

You gasp and jump back, all sorts of unsavory scenarios forming in your mind. But then you look and see a pair of very familiar blue-green eyes gazing back at you. "Good morning," he says softly, a rakish smile crossing his lips.

You're speechless. "Um....umm...uh..." You try to think of something, anything to say to him. He just smiles at you, twirling his honey-colored braid around his finger. Finally, you find your voice. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I had a dream about you last night. A very pleasant one." He leans closer to you and you smell his intoxicating scent, like cloves. He playfully sweeps the end of his braid from your forehead to your lips, tracing the outline of them. "I couldn't resist indulging in a bit of reality."

"No. Way." You say, convinced that you're finally losing your mind. "This isn't real..."

"Oh, isn't it?" He takes your hand and draws it to his face, kissing it. "Then I guess you don't feel this." His tongue traces a slow circle on your palm. "Or this."

You sigh deeply and lie back, feeling a warm tingling in your stomach. You're suddenly, excruciatingly aware that you're clad in only a flimsy towel. "I can't," you say as your mind screams _what are you, NUTS??_. "I have to go to work. I--"

"Take the day off," he purrs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. "You're allowed to do that, aren't you."

"I suppose. I, uh--"

He leans over you and silences you with his mouth on yours. You open your mouth against his to accept his tongue, which slides over yours, rubbing with delicious friction. You feel slick warmth growing between your legs as his hardness presses against your thigh. He breaks the kiss and his mouth glides over your chin and jawline to your neck, finally resting at the hollow of your throat lapping at the moisture that has gathered there. You moan and throw your head back, weaving your fingers through his hair, stroking the soft skin on the back of his neck. His mouth travels down, his tongue leaving a trail of fire. He gently pulls the towel open exposing your nakedness.

"So beautiful," he whispers, his voice taut with desire. He looks up at you, giving you a predatory smile that enflames you beyond reason. "Call in sick." His tongue snakes out of his mouth and flickers against your erect nipple. "Pick up the phone." You can only whimper as draws your nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, tracing circles around it with his tongue. You reach blindly on the night table for the phone. For a moment, you can't remember your work number, but you manage to dial it anyway.

The phone rings endlessly on the other end and you hope beyond hope that the boss isn't in yet and you'll get his voice mail. "Obi-Wan," you whisper. "Don't..." You don't want him working on you while your talking to your boss. He doesn't stop, but instead laughs softly and begins trailing kisses down your stomach, rubbing your nipples with his palm.

You hear the connection complete on the other end of the phone. _Shit!_ "This is Dilbert Jones, can I help you?"

"Um, Dilbert," you begin, alternately pleased and horrified that Obi-Wan has settled himself between your legs and has lifted them over his shoulders. Thank Goddess you don't have a videophone. "I don't think I'm going to make it in today. I think I've got that stomach bug that's been floating around." You stifle a gasp when you feel his tongue gliding along your inner thigh toward your center.

"Um...okay. You feeling pretty bad, huh?" The voice on the other end drones. You almost laugh at that. You aren't feeling anywhere near bad. "Well, get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow. Hey, do you need me to change the backup tape on the server, since you won't be here?"

You barely hear him, because Obi-Wan is slowly driving you insane with his tongue, you gasp audibly as it burrows between your labia with slow, maddening strokes. "Um, yeah." You pray that Dilbert won't want to make chit chat. "Look, I gotta go, I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Okay, get some rest."

You murmur a goodbye and let the phone drop to the floor. "Oh, damn, you are _so_ bad," you practically moan to Obi-Wan as he continues to deliciously torture you.

He disengages himself from between your legs and rises up to meet your face. "And you absolutely love it, don't you?" He kisses you and your tongues go to war. You taste him and yourself, a combination that's making you high. You smile and push him off of you and onto his back, then you straddle him.

"What do you think?" You begin to undress him, letting him help you with the difficult parts of his uniform. When his tunic is open, you lean down and press yourself against him, hungry for the feel of his skin against yours. He's so beautiful right now, lying beneath you, his breath shallow and ragged. Your body is on fire as you press yourself against him, so willing to give in, to become feral. Your mouth clamps on his for a moment then you draw away, taking his bottom lip between your teeth. You feel him tremble with need.

"Undress me," he commands, an order you're more than happy to obey. You slide off of him and go to work. He raises his upper body from the bed to accomodate you and you slide the tunics off his shoulders and let it and his belt slide to the floor. His light saber hits the carpet with a muffled metallic thud. First you remove his boots, then his socks. You slide your hands up his hard thighs, then playfully stroke his erection through the fabric. It feels like steel under your hand, and you swear you've never gotten a man _that_ hard before. Wetness is practically pouring from you at the feel of that rigid staff. You can't wait anymore. You grasp the waist band of his trousers and slide them down his hips, which he has raised off of the bed to accomodate you, then down his legs finally tugging the pants off and sending them to the floor to join the rest of his clothes.

You take a moment to just drink in his nude body, running your hands lightly over his skin, feeling him tremble. Your eyes rest on his sex and you lean over him, straddling his legs and run your tongue up the rigid shaft. He lets out a tortured groan and his hips buck beneath you. You take his cock in your hand and cover the tip of it with your mouth, licking at the bead of moisture that has gathered there. You suck gently, circling the head of it with your tongue. A sound like a sob escapes his throat and his hips thrust a bit faster. You take his length in your mouth, sliding up and down on it, scrubbing the underside with your tongue. You want to devour him. You hear him whisper raggedly, "oh, that's so good...so nice."

You continue in slow motion for a few more seconds then release him. A sheen of sweat glistens on his body and face, and you want him inside you more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. Your voice sounds husky, animalistic when you speak. "Fuck me, Jedi."

He sits up and flips you onto your back, easing your legs apart and settling between them. His mouth descends on yours and explores every inch. You take his cock in your hand, guiding him into you, and moan against his mouth as he slides into you with one swift stroke. His hands are all over you, rubbing and caressing. You draw your knees up to your chest and wrap your legs around him, urging him deeper. Your body is buzzing and alive as he grinds his slender hips into you with slow, hard thrusts.

"Tell me what you want," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper. "Tell me."

You know what you want, but it's a desire that you're too afraid to voice. He pulls it from your mind and complies. Grasping your wrists, he pins your arms to either side of your head. He thrusts deeply into you, filling you completely, and you moan, throwing your head back. You want him to dominate you, control you, fuck you senseless. And he does. Oh Goddess, he does. He slams into you, his pace increasing, driving you insane, turning you into an animal. You grind your hips into him, clenching him between your thighs. The wave rises in you steadily, turning your body to water.

Your orgasm hits you with stunning fierceness, white-hot and agonizingly sweet, and you cry out between clenched teeth. "Yes..yes...oh yesss..." Your body arches beneath him, meeting his, sweat on sweat. His thrusts grow frenzied, his breath comes in ragged gasps and he cries out, nearly sobbing, pouring himself into you. You ride each others waves, and his thrusts slow down, finally stopping, and he collapses onto you, releasing your wrists.

He slides out of you and raises up on his elbows, softly kissing your lips. Your hands slide up his shoulders, gliding over sweat and tenderly stroke his hair, one hand playfully tugging at his braid.

Finally after a few moments of bathing in afterglow, you say the first thing that pops into your mind.

"Want some coffee?"

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