~~~~~~~~~
Title: "Double Dare" ABH (1/2)
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.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.