#Obi-Wan Kenobi X Reader

[221bshrlocked]

Both! Both is good shy Obi who then respectfully doms!!!!

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader (Clone Wars era)

Words: 34,895 (things clearly got out of hand)

Warnings: lap dance, lots of touching, Obi-Wan wholeheartedly consents but he feels guilty that he's enjoying the “attention” (in the beginning at least), scent kink, lots of kissing, lots of fluids, shy to respectfully-dominant Obi-Wan, Oral (male receiving), squirting, some humiliation/dirty talk, overstimulation, slight religion kink, slight praise kink, slight breeding kink, incorrect use of the Force.

Summary: “And what-” the words die in his throat as soon as he feels the heat of your mouth engulf his thumb completely, and he clenches his jaw tightly when your tongue swirls around his finger several times until it’s completely drenched with your drool. “I apologize, what have you thought of when you studied them?” He manages to ask when you finally stop torturing him, but the relief barely remains because you drop his hand suddenly and throw your head back in pleasure when his palm accidentally grazes your breast, the wet thumb barely coming in contact with your nipple before he’s snatching his hand away as if you were molten fire. You snap your attention back to him a moment later, smiling to yourself when you see his pink features blush a deeper shade of red.

A/N: I refuse to apologize for whatever this is. This is not-so-loosely based on one of my less-dignifying posts which @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories decided to make better and which I dedicate this to. I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I did writing it. This is not beta’d so if you see anything misspelled, know that it is because I was flustered while writing this lovely story. You can add yourself to the taglist here.

An almost bored expression takes over your features as soon as your comlink beeps and signals a request for a private dance. When you notice how long the requested time is, you ask your handler to lead the client to the VIP room, and let them know that you will be there in a few minutes. You smile at the gentlemen flocking around you like a bunch of loth-cats in heat and excuse yourself, telling them that you will happily enjoy some more time with them once you finish the private dances for the night. Turning around to the stage, you signal one of the twileks to come and take your place so you don’t leave them without any service, and as you make your way to the private dance rooms, you can’t help but turn around to glance across the floor briefly, eyes immediately searching for the familiar brown and beige robes that have graced the establishment for some time now. 

Strange, he didn’t come today.

You shake your head in disappointment and make your way past the smaller rooms, fixing your lingerie and hair with each step you take so you look presentable to the client. Whoever it was, they certainly didn’t beat around the bush, asking for a longer time than usual and agreeing to the price of your services without making a fuss to your handler. You throw a kiss to the gentleman guarding the door of the room, and when you see the teasing smile he’s throwing at you, you narrow your eyes at him and take a step closer to the door. 

“Anything I should know about our guest?” You raise an eyebrow at him when he immediately shrugs his shoulders and steps out of your way. . 

“I know nothing sweetheart…except that I might not see you for the rest of the night.” It’s the first time anyone has dared to respond so crudely to you but you aren’t in the mood to give him a piece of your mind so you shoo him away and tell him not to disturb you. When he’s out of sight, you return your attention to the closed door and send a quick prayer to the maker that whoever it is wouldn’t try anything strange with you, or at least nothing that you aren’t willing to get onboard with. 

Dropping your gaze to the ground, you stretch your shoulders and knock twice before pushing the button on the side of the wall, the soft sound of the door swishing open giving you another few moments of peace before you meet the challenge of the night. You walk in slowly but don’t bother to raise your head just yet, instantly reaching for the lock on the door to push it so you can let the client know you will not be disturbed for quite some time. 

It’s only when you turn around and allow your eyes to gaze at the figure sitting in the middle of the couch that you finally catch onto the meaning of the words thrown at you not a moment ago.

Kriff, he was even more beautiful up close. 

And his gaze was unwavering in its intensity, making you forget how to breathe for a moment before you remember why he was here. Forcing yourself to remain calm, you offer him your friendliest smile before slowly approaching him. But a few steps is all it takes for you to recognize how uncomfortable he is in your presence. Whereas you would normally accompany your client on the couch, perhaps tease them a little with soft touches to their shoulders or brief caresses to their hair, you opt to remain farther away from him. His body language visibly eases when he notices the sudden halt in your movement, and he gulps nervously before he corrects his posture and tries to appear more confident than he is. 

You get the sense that this man was not used to feeling so out-of-place, and you think that this may have gone a little more your way if you weren’t showing so much skin. He certainly didn’t appear to be uncomfortable by the environment, far from it if the last week proved anything. It was most likely due to the state of your attire, or lack thereof. Tilting your head to the side, you giggle when you look into his eyes and see a bead of sweat form just above his brow, the furrowed muscles giving him away instantly.  

He definitely didn’t appreciate what you were wearing. 

Or maybe, considering what you learned fairly quickly about his line of work, he was perhaps a little too appreciative of your almost nude figure, and the guilt was eating away at him because of said lifestyle. 

“I was wondering when I’d have the pleasure of your company.” You let your hands roam over the flimsy material of your lingerie, barely holding back from laughing out loud when you see the handsome stranger clench his jaw tightly in irritation. 

Or was that appreciation?

He must take notice of how closely you’re studying him because in an instant, his facial expression grows neutral, and he raises a curious eyebrow at you, his lips upturning slightly in an attempt to tease you in return. Oh, this was definitely going to be entertaining, perhaps more enjoyable than you initially thought. 

“You’re acting surprised for someone who’s been here for an entire week and never asked for a private room.” You remark as you take hold of the pole in the middle of the room, twirling your body around it once before you rest your forehead against it, eyes refusing to look anywhere else by the blue, slowly darkening orbs staring into your soul. 

“Surely my presence was not obvious.” As soon as the words leave his mouth and reveal the low guttural sound of his voice, a coarse shiver takes over your body, and you have to grasp onto the pole tightly to try and ground yourself. If he sees the way his voice affects you, he chooses to say nothing and instead crosses his legs while fixing his robes. Your attention falls instantly on the dangerous weapon hanging on the belt around his waist, but you turn away before you think more of how you’d like him to thoroughly use you for his pleasure. 

“Maybe to others it wasn’t,” you remark as you raise your knees against the pole and allow him to get an eyeful of your inner thighs, “but it sure was to me.” The second his eyes shift below your neck, you bite into your lower lip and smile as his cheeks suddenly become a deeper shade of pink. 

“I find that hard to believe.” You turn around to avoid his gaze, knowing that he will surely notice the reaction of your body to his voice. He’s only spoken twice thus far, but you come to accept rather quickly that there was nothing you could ever deny him should he continue to speak with such an arousing, soft baritone to you. When you face him again and see how adamant he is on keeping his sight above your neckline, you decide to push him a little, wanting to get a closer look into his personality.

“Why? Because I’m just another whore selling her body for money, or because I must be stupid since I’m just another whore selling her body for money?” You continue to dance for him, completely ignoring the wince he offers in distaste of your diction as he reorients himself on the couch. 

“You gravely misunderstand me, my lady. I only meant to remark on your exceptionally discerning abilities when this fine establishment promises the utmost attention when- when being served privately.” He struggles a little in his response, and you can’t help but giggle at the respectful manner he upholds even further out of fear of offending you by accident again. 

“He’s smart and polite. You’re definitely not from these parts of the woods.” Your words briefly put him at ease, but then his body language shifts once more when you slide your hands across your barely covered skin and throw your head back to give him a full view of your stretched neck. You flutter your eyes at him when you return his gaze, amusement washing over you as soon as he clears his throat and pretends to study his surroundings. 

“The color of the room isn’t pleasing to you.” You comment when you notice the pout he gives at the dominating color overshadowing the two of you, and for a split second, you are distracted by thoughts of him dominating you right at the center of this very room.

“Red is not my color, but it will suffice for now.” Your amusement turns into irritation when you realize his attempts of painting an untruthful image of himself for your sake at the expense of his discomfort. The thought of being the cause of his tense muscles and uneasy aura makes you uncomfortable, and you stop your routine long enough for him to take notice and finally meet your eyes again. 

“I’m sure it isn’t…Master Jedi.” You assumed he would reveal his identity to you as soon as you walked into the room, but the fact that he was taking so long to start the session was beginning to hold the opposite effect of whatever he was intending. When a rather shocked and almost lost expression meets your curious orbs, you groan in regret for revealing your knowledge of his identity. 

Kriff, he wasn’t planning on telling you at all. 

“Don’t act so surprised…and don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone what you are. Tell me then, which of those lovely gentlemen I spent time with last week recommended me?” You sigh in relief when his shoulders visibly relax at your admission, and you sway your hips down to the ground until you’re kneeling across from him. He gulps nervously and finally allows his eyes to roam your body when you palm the pole and bring your thighs around the cold metal. Slowly, you raise yourself and rub your core against the pole long enough to startle him. The lewd motions come to a stop, however, when he responds to you with yet another question. 

“I beg your pardon?” His voice is hoarse, that you are sure of, and you decide to put him out of his misery and settle down for a moment until he answers your question. Unfortunately for him, your lack of movement seems to distract him further, and you clear your throat loudly to snap him out of whatever spiraling thoughts overtaking his mind. He must notice the deeper shade his features are becoming because he reaches for his beard and strokes it as if he was searching for an answer in response to an important business question. 

“Don’t be shy, tell me. I only wish to repay them the favor for sending me such a fine specimen as yourself.” You coo at him, hoping that the calm tone of your voice would in turn pacify him, or at the very least, show that you meant him no harm. He blinks at you in confusion before he inhales deeply, and you swear he is purposely trying to hypnotize you with his body language, the thought coming to you rather humorously because it was your job to flirt with him, not the other way around. 

“I- I am uncertain to whom or what you are referring to.” He is rather serious when he finally breaks the silence, and your smile fades for a moment at the odd sentiment before you nod in return and smirk at him yet again. 

“Huh, so you’re not here on recommendation…which means, you’re here by luck or you’re on the job.” You raise an eyebrow when his jaw clenches tightly, and if it wasn’t your job to read people with one glance, you would have missed the way his entire body becomes rigid at your conclusion. He breaks your gaze and quickly scans the room, the action letting you know that he was by no means in your company by accident. 

No, he wanted to be here. Or perhaps, needed to be here for an important reason, one that left him no other option but to pay for your time. 

“On the job then.” You sigh heavily before sauntering towards him, and making yourself comfortable to his left. You leave enough space between the two of you for his sake, not wanting to give him any reason to leave you so soon. There was something about his presence that felt oddly comforting, even though he clearly did not want to be here. 

“How did you know who I am?” The Jedi finally asks, and you take the chance of finally meeting his eyes to bring both of your legs up onto the couch, and resting your cheek on your knees. Your skin glistens with goosebumps when he allows his attention to roam down your exposed skin, and you shrug your shoulders in response as soon as he looks at you with a warning expression.

“For one, your clothes give it away. Word of advice, if you want to lay low in these parts of town, don’t go around wearing your most Jedi-looking robes. Makes you stand out like eye candy…not that you need any help in that area.” The neutral look on his face falls for a split second when he registers the compliment, but you don’t comment on it, instead throwing your arm across the back of the couch until the tips of your fingers graze his cloak. He flinches at the sudden touch but relaxes almost immediately when he realizes you won’t become more bold with your handling of him.

“And I happen to know a few Jedi myself. Your kind comes by here all the time.” You tilt your head to the side and bite into your lower lip as soon as his eyes widen in shock at what you just admitted to him. But his eyebrows furrow soon after and he looks down to the floor, not bothering to hide the distaste of your revelation as he strokes his beard again. 

Kriff, you desperately wanted him to stop doing that. 

“Just because you don’t partake doesn’t mean others don’t as well.” Your tone is not as welcoming as before, and he must sense your dislike of his reaction because he shakes his head as if to apologize for how his reaction may have come off. 

“You have…entertained Jedi before?” The reluctance swimming in between his inquisitive words almost makes you lean back in laughter, but you force those giggles down and instead dwell on his diction and the attempts at being respectful towards you.

“Oh I did more than entertain sweetheart, otherwise they wouldn’t keep coming back from more. I suspected one of them sent you here to let loose a bit and you were just making sure I’m up to standards, which is why it took you so long to come here, but it seems that I was mistaken.” To his credit, the Jedi Master tries his best to give you his undivided attention as you respond to him, but you choose to look anywhere but his eyes for fear of giving yourself away should he finally understand how much of an effect he has on you. 

“May I ask who had the pleasure of your company?” You are a little surprised by his line of questioning, mostly because you didn’t think he would want to know anything of the sort, let alone discuss other Jedi’s intimate habits in the presence of someone who clearly knew more than she was letting on. 

“A girl doesn’t kiss and tell, Master.” As soon as that last exclamation leaves your lips, the man inhales deeply and hides his blush behind a thoughtful expression. His eyes betray him, however, when you watch him drag his intense gaze down your body before zeroing in on your lips. 

“Hmm, and it wouldn’t be good for business if I go around and start telling people who I spend time with here. After all, you have a reputation to live up to. What would happen to the good people of Coruscant if they knew their beloved Jedi enjoyed fucking like animals in their downtime?” You look at him through heavy-lidded eyes, wanting him to know that you caught him eye-fucking  you while pretending he wasn’t interested. The obscene response makes him wince, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s never heard profanity in his years serving the galaxy. 

“My apologies, I forget how prudish some of you are.” You graze his arm with your fingers as you apologize, feigning innocence as you squeeze his clothed muscles before taking your hand away once more. 

“I am not a prude.” He sounds a little amused, but you can tell he was still having a difficult time keeping up with this game.

“In that case, I will try to watch my language so I don’t offend your sensibilities.” Your declaration distracts him yet again, not because of the clear lies hidden behind your promise but because you choose to lower one of your legs and push it underneath the other, giving him a perfect view of your barely clothed pussy slowly soaking the flimsy material shielding you from his eyes. He knows what you’re doing, and you quietly applaud him for not falling into your trap so easily and turning his head towards the lighting of the room instead. 

“Would you like me to change the color of the room then, perhaps match those pretty blue eyes of yours?” If you were being honest, those beautiful orbs were no longer blue, and you got the sense that he knew just as well how dilated his pupils were at the moment. 

“That will be unnecessary, my lady.” His voice is more balanced than moments ago, more confident as it wraps deliciously around the title he decided to grace you with. You shouldn’t be surprised by his politeness, especially since he’s been nothing but respectful to you ever since he walked in. But you are stunned at the word he chose to call you, only because no one has ever associated you, in this line of work, with such a title before. 

“I’ve been called many things before, never ‘my lady.’” 

“I do not mean to offend you. If you wish-” Panic washes over him at your remark, and you reach for him once more to set his mind at ease when he stutters through an apology. He grows silent when he feels your hand grasp his forearm, but unlike before, when his whole body tensed at the mere touch of your hands, he doesn’t flinch now and slowly turns his whole body to face you.

“Relax sweetheart, I don’t care what you call me as long as you’re enjoying yourself.” You don’t let go of him just yet, wanting to test out his comfort with the proximity between the two of you. 

“That is a rather horrifying sentiment, which I can happily discuss with you once my business here is finished.” The amusement is evident in his voice, and you chuckle at his need to illustrate his rather progressive opinion on your claims. If only he knew what the others called you when they visited your chambers every other week. The more you think about it, the more you recognize the deep need slowly filling your chest for him to call you all sorts of unholy names if it meant he was bringing you pleasure and using you for his own. 

“Business then.” You break the silence out of fear of what you might do should he continue to look at you in such a way. The man had an uncanny ability of knowing just what to say and how to move to hypnotize you, and you were beginning to feel weak from the simple action of maintaining contact with his darkening blue eyes. 

“I’m here for the man you have entertained several times this past week,” you admire his ability to move on from, what he probably considered, a rather uncomfortable conversation. But as the question settles in your mind, your admiration becomes nothing but a deep irritation. He was involving you in business you did not wish to be a part of, and whether or not he knew how dangerous this could be for you, you knew he would not leave until he got the information he came for. 

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” You move away from him and pretend to pick at the loose strands of one of the pillows behind you. His attention doesn’t falter once, and you hate how difficult it suddenly is to breathe in his presence. You got the sense that it would not be easy to lie to him and decide to feign ignorance instead. 

“Has he ever spoken a word to you about any shipments he smuggles through Coruscant?” The Jedi Master continues his questioning, and you hate how quickly his tone turns from one of curiosity to hope. 

“What shipments?” You ask in return and turn to look at him, instantly regretting the action when you realize he can sense that you are hiding something from him. 

“He is a notoriously dangerous smuggler, my lady. He must have revealed even the smallest of details by accident.” The man shifts his body towards you, reaching out to touch your hands as they continue to fiddle with the black covers stretched around the pillow. A sizzling heat courses across your skin when you feel his warm hand atop your own, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was practically interrogating you on one of your clients, you would have returned the gesture and made him blush. Instead, you slip your hands away and relax against the back of the couch, the hint of hurt flashing across the gentleman’s features not going unnoticed by you. 

“You must really think me a bore if you truly believe that “notoriously dangerous” men will speak of their work while I’m…what is it you said, entertaining them.” You respond perhaps a little too angrily, and you watch as his expression turns yet again to a somewhat neutral impression at your unnecessary outburst. 

“I am sure you are marvelous in your craft but-” He looks to the ground as he speaks, but you don’t give him a chance to continue, knowing that he might easily get the upper hand on you if you let him soothe you over with gentle compliments. 

“But I can’t be that good.” His gaze shoots up as soon as you throw those words at him, and you can’t help but smile when you see his attempts to hide his embarrassment. Against your better judgment, you cross your legs and slowly twirl your hair around your fingers, hoping that your confirmation of his suspicions would suffice for now and prevent him from asking more questions. 

“Well, if you must know Master Jedi, Barlac did in fact mention a thing or two about the shipments he smuggles through here. But I’ll have you know, he only spoke of these matters when he was having a moment of respite. I work hard you see, and sometimes, my clients like to take a break before we return to our…extracurricular activities.” Without thinking much, you tease him about his earlier remark, barely managing to hold back your giggles when the pretty blush that spread across his cheeks a moment ago deepens and descends down to his neck. 

“I see.” The curt response is reluctant, and you watch as he rubs his beard several times, most likely thinking of the name you had just given him. 

“Don’t pout like that, it’s distracting.” You don’t realize what you blurted out until he looks up at you with nothing but shock filling his eyes, the hands on his chin ceasing all movement when he realizes you were being dead serious. Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of having the man touch you so intimately, but you knew better than to go down that line of thinking now of all times.  

“Well, aren’t you going to make me an offer for the information?” You break the silence, hoping that the question distracts him from what you just admitted. You had assumed that he would jump at the chance, but when he relaxes against the back of the couch and rings his fingers, you realize that he was debating continuing this little chat. 

“I have insulted you more times than I dare count, my lady. I fear I have lost any right I may have had to continue this conversation.” It is not the answer you expect out of him, especially now when you were willing to give him whatever knowledge he came for. The shy persona that takes over turns you on more than it should, especially when you have only pictured the Jedi in more compromising and violent positions, most of which involve you completely surrendering to his dominant demands. 

“Do all Jedi give up this easily?” You let your arm fall behind him again, biting into your lower lip when you manage to touch the tips of his hair without having him shy away from you. 

“Far from it, my darling. But unlike the others, I know when I should hold my tongue.” The pet name is surprising, so much so that you can’t control your thighs from clenching tightly as you imagine him calling you ‘his darling’ as he rails into you from behind. 

“A true sign of a gentleman. But I still think you should try and make me an offer.” You are proud of how little you falter, more so because of how direct his gaze seems to be as he stares at you. There’s something on his mind, but you know better than to expect him to reveal it to you now so you brace yourself for whatever he is about to say. 

“I will humor your remarks merely because you have been patient with mine. How much do you require in return for what you know?” He crosses his arms, and you swallow the lump in your throat at the slightly deeper and more strict tone his voice takes when he gives you his undivided attention yet again. Silence fills the space as you try your best to get control of the situation once more, but you know as soon as he smirks at you that you would never be fully in charge when it came to him. 

“I have no need for your credits.” You bite your lower lip and wait for him to register what you’re after. 

“You will have me beg only to refuse my offer?” His question is not the response you are hoping for, and you restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at him or simply straddling his lap to show him what you had in mind. 

“You and I both know that cannot pass for begging. And besides, I may be cruel but only when I’m paid to be. I would never lead you on if I wasn’t sure you can deliver.” You are sure your words will drive the message across, but when he continues to look at you with nothing but confusion etched on his pretty face, you throw all caution out the window and get a little more forward with him. As slowly as you can, you slither your fingers across his jaw and down to his neck, not pausing for a moment as you descend to his chest and rest the palm of your hand on top of his heaving chest. 

“What I want is not on the financial spectrum…but more physical in nature.” You make no other move on him, knowing that this is probably more than what he bargained for when he first entered the establishment. You sense the unease rolling off of him in heavy waves, and when you notice that he cannot take it anymore, you remove your hand and bring it to your nose, not caring for how ridiculous you look as you sniff it to try and get a whiff of his scent. 

“P-Physical?” His voice breaks momentarily, and you almost apologize for making him uncomfortable, but then you study his body language and recognize all the signs you usually look for in a client.

The ones that tell you when they were ready for you. 

“One hour of your time. That’s all I ask for.” You lean over until your lips almost touch his ears, whispering gently against his skin in hopes of easing whatever worries storming his mind. 

“T-to do what exactly?” He clears his throat before he speaks, and if you weren’t still unsure of whether you were forcing yourself on him or not, you would have attacked his neck then and there to show him how much you craved him. 

“I think you know.” He sucks in a deep breath at the sound of your confirmation, and you instantly regret how strongly you are coming onto him when you look down and see how tight he’s holding onto his knees. 

“I- I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” It’s not the question you want to ask, but it is the one that escapes your lips when you finally move away from him and stand up. You have no right to ask him such an intimate question, and before you can apologize for your lack of propriety, the Jedi responds to you with such decisiveness that halts your thought process. 

“Can’t.” He answers immediately, the quickness hurting you more than you cared to admit. 

“I see.” You say nothing else as you lazily twirl around the cold pole in front of him, purposely letting the moment die out for his sake. He tries to catch your attention several times, but you ignore him and continue to distract yourself with the coolness sliding against your flushed skin.

“That’s hardly fair and you know it.” A hint of anger slips through his words, and you raise an eyebrow at him when you turn around and watch his features harden soon after. You were prepared to let it go, but the manner in which he gazes upon you, as if you were being unbelievably unhinged forces you to respond in kind. 

“For me perhaps, certainly not for you.” You say in passing as you move towards the flasks on the table beside him. You don’t bother elaborating on your comment as you pour drinks for the two of you, but when you hand him his glass and watch the way his eyes shine with curiosity and reluctance, you sigh and step towards the pole on the platform once more. 

“You’re telling me you find it unfair for you that I would both pleasure you and give you the information you seek in return for an hour of your time and no credits?” You down your drink instantly before setting it on the floor, unsure of where this conversation was now going. 

“You cannot, in good faith, expect me to be so intimate with you, a complete stranger who may harm me in a moment of…vulnerability?” He hesitates, and you don’t bother stopping the laughter from bubbling up your throat at the last relayed sentiment. He must have considered you a great deal of danger if he thought you were capable of hurting him, a Jedi Master.

“Harm you with what? By all means, search me if you must.” You step towards him, and without thinking twice of why your actions could possibly prevent you from ever seeing him again, you unclip your bra and roll the straps down your arms, tossing it behind you before you place your hands on your hips and shrug your shoulders at him. The man’s eyes shoot wide open as he turns away from you to give you some semblance of privacy. You twirl around several times before seating yourself on the platform right next to his feet, purposely stretching your legs out to touch his calves. He glances at you once and clenches his jaw tightly when he notices your thighs fall wide open, giving him a perfect view of your clothed cunt.

“I- I think, perhaps, I should leave.” He’s finding it extremely difficult to breathe, that much you can tell, and you would consider it a small victory had it not been for the manner in which he rubs his knees harshly to focus on anything but your nude form. 

“Hmm, maybe you are just shy after all.” You remark as you close your legs and cross your arms over your breasts to hide yourself from him. 

“Well, it was worth a shot I guess. The shipments usually come at night once a week, not on an exact day from what I gathered though. I heard him say something about the new water supply cycle system? They’ll use it to smuggle things on and off world.” You can tell the second he registers what you’re telling him, his head snapping to you as soon as you start talking. You, on the other hand, can’t find it in yourself to look at him, especially now when you were barely clothed and giving him what he wanted all along. You come to regret the decision soon though, when you realize he was not planning on looking elsewhere as you continue to relay all that you knew. 

“He also said they’re relying on heavily-populated areas to get by…said the best way to go unnoticed is by doing things out in the open on levels that are too busy for the guards to care for.” You dare to glance at him once, but as soon as you meet his eyes, you turn away instantly, unsure of what exactly his gaze was portraying at the moment.

“Next shipment is tomorrow night, not too far from here. Look for a restaurant with a logo that has a loth-cat riding on top of a droid…and I only know that because I remember him saying an extremely disgusting joke about paying to watch a loth-cat actually ride a droid…fucking bastard.” You try to ease the awkwardness of the circumstances the two of you now found yourselves in, but when he doesn’t budge, let alone make a sound to convey shock or gratitude, you stand up and turn to face the doorway, wanting to give both you and him a moment to collect yourselves before the eventual, awkward goodbye.

“If there’s nothing else, Master Jedi, I suggest you leave before-” The words die in your throat when you hear him stand up and approach you. Thinking that he was going to move around you to exit, you step aside and face the other way in an attempt to avoid his bold gaze. 

“Little one,” the sound of his voice sends a bolt of lightning down your spine, momentarily distracting you from the cloud of compassion slowly showering you with warmth. It’s not until you feel his hand come up and rest on your shoulders that you realize he is not attempting to leave, but to turn you around so you could gaze upon you. You aren’t sure when your embarrassment is replaced with a need to touch him, and you can’t find it in yourself to care as you drop your arms from around your chest and reach for the robes tightly wrapped around his own. You rest both of your hands on top of his heart, wanting to feel grounded before the floor falls from beneath your feet as soon as he breaks the unbearable silence engulfing the two of you. 

“You would part with such valuable information, knowing I could walk out this very instance and offer you nothing in return?” You don’t dare look up, afraid that you would break whatever semblance of control still left within you if you find kindness flowing within the blue orbs. 

“I- I’m not cruel. I’ve been in this line of work long enough to know that being forced to be with someone takes away a part of you that you can never get back. I’d never want anyone to feel that way, especially someone like you who isn’t as used to this as someone like me.” The self-deprecating chuckle that fills the space between the two of you makes him flinch, and you finally muster up the courage to look up into his eyes when you notice his hands squeeze your shoulders tightly. What you find staring back at you is a feeling you never thought the universe could ever offer you, and you whisper an apology to amend whatever you said that made him uncomfortable. 

“Besides, you’re just trying to do your job, and I won’t get in your way if it means you’re saving lives. My…desires…they’re nowhere near as important as whatever you’re trying to do.” The reluctance that halts you right before you admit your need for him makes him inhale deeply and you remove your hands from his body as soon as he takes a step back and walks behind you. You turn around just in time to see him remove the outer robe shielding him from your eyes. 

“What- what are you doing?” You ask as he folds it neatly and sets it aside, not once bothering to pay you any attention as he unhooks the infamous, deadly weapon from the belt around his waist and sets it above his robes. 

“You asked for an hour of my time,” the man finally responds, and you watch as he sits back on the couch and crosses his legs, the smile etched on his features letting you know that he was far from joking, “and an hour you shall get.”

“As much as I want this, I see reluctance and regret swimming in your eyes. I will not have you this way.” You bite back at him, not caring for your nudity as you approach him and point towards the door. You hope he can see how deadly serious you are in wanting him to leave, the mere thought of touching him in any manner after the clear discomfort he’s revealed to you making you more angry than you wished to be.

“Then in what way shall you have me?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he reaches for his drink and sips from it leisurely, as if he had all the time in the galaxy to continue having this conversation with you. If it weren’t for the fact that he was currently getting on your very last nerve, you would have spent more time admiring his reddened lips as they glistened with the corellian whisky he has ordered on every visit to the establishment. 

“As long as you want this as well, I’ll have you in whatever way you’re most comfortable with. But again, I don’t think you truly want this so-” You fiddle with your fingers, the anger surrounding you suddenly ebbing away with each passing moment you continue to hold his gaze. He had an uncanny ability to set you at ease with just a glance, and you weren’t sure if it was because he was a Jedi that may have been controlling you—at least that’s what the rumors always said—or if it was because it was him. 

“If- if I asked you to do what you wish with me without removing any of my robes, would you still want me?” He clears his throat mid question, and you snort in response at the absurdity of it. His demeanor, and quick avoidance of your eyes as you chuckle at him, confirm your suspicions from early on.

He had no sense of self-awareness, at least not when it came to understanding how inherently attractive he was.

“I find it difficult to think of any circumstance in which I wouldn’t want you. I have spent a great deal of time thinking of you in the past week. So, believe me when I tell you that I- maker, I desperately want you.” As much as you hate to admit it, you know that there is no point in lying to him after the past few minutes. You are defeated, and it surprises you how little you are annoyed by the admission you just offered him. Whereas you usually try to entice your clients enough for them to spill their desires to you first, you realize that this is much different than all of the others. You want him to know how much you crave him, even if it made you appear pathetic in his eyes. It was preposterous to ever admit to holding feelings for a Jedi, that much you knew from your time with the others, but to be so forward in your neediness in front of one was a one-way ticket to absolute madness.

“You barely know me, sweet one.” The deep accent, mixed with the endearing pet name easily falling from his lips, make you shiver where you stand, and you make your way to the couch to sit down beside him. 

“I know enough. I know that touching you, even above your clothes, would give me pleasure I have not known in a long time. I know that looking into your eyes as I dance for you would make my heart beat faster because you- you seem like the kind of man who enjoys holding eye contact when you’re…being attended to. And- and I know that hearing you speak to me in that lovely accent of yours, no matter what you say, would make me come in a matter of minutes.” You wrap your arms around your shoulders again, suddenly feeling shy beneath his gaze. The way his body seems to buzz with energy with every confession you relay to him should have put your mind at ease, but when you look down and notice how tightly his fingers dig into his clothes, you can’t help but become more affected by his presence, and the clear way in which he was reacting to you in return, as if he was barely holding himself back from touching you. 

“You don’t have to do much for me to be at your will.” You finally manage to turn your attention to him, and you regret it almost instantaneously when you see the mischievousness etched in his dilated pupils. 

Fuck, maybe you weren’t so far off in reading his body language after all. 

“Is that so?” His voice is deep, much deeper than a second ago, and you gulp nervously as you acknowledge the reason behind such a change. 

“Yes, Master Jedi.” Your answer lingers in the tense air, and you rub your thighs together when you notice his jaw clenching tightly at the sound of his title being whispered with a lewdness unfit to be aimed at him. 

“Obi-Wan.” He says as he reaches for his drink, chuckling to himself when he turns back to you and sees confusion written in your eyes. 

“My name, sweetheart, is Obi-Wan.” He repeats, and it takes you a moment too long to finally register the name he just claimed as his own. A hint of shock and apprehension takes over you, and if the Jedi Master notices the way your body becomes on edge as soon as you replay his name in your mind, he doesn’t comment, not wanting to give you any reason to feel fearful as well. 

“Y-you’re General Obi-Wan Kenobi?” You don’t mean for your voice to come out as squeaky as it does, but the smile that greets you sets your mind at ease. Had you known the man you have been dreaming of for the past few rotations was Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, you would have attempted to stop your mind from wandering sooner. 

“You are familiar then?” He asks, as if he doesn’t know that his reputation precedes him everywhere he goes. 

“No wonder they leave your image out of the holos…you’re too damn beautiful for your own good. One look at you and the Temple would get an influx of job applications just so people can glance at you.” You allow your eyes to roam down his form more obviously this time, wanting to show him that you were not afraid of continuing whatever game he was playing with you. 

“Flattery will not gain you another hour, dear heart.” Obi-Wan teases as he rubs his auburn beard, and once again, you can’t help but lick your lips as you watch his fingers comb through his hair with ease, pretending they were caressing your own chin as you gave yourself to him. 

“It’s not flattery, believe me. I’ve seen my fair share of handsome men from across this galaxy, but I must say…none have ever made my mouth water with the mere sight of them.” You say as you cross your legs and throw your arm over the pillow in between the two of you. Ever the gentleman, his eyes never once drop to your breasts, and you get the sense that he was trying his hardest to pretend that he didn’t want to memorize every bit of your nude skin. 

“Maker, your tongue is a dangerous weapon, one I should disarm before it causes any more damage.” He turns to face you, mirroring your actions and throwing his own arm behind the back of the couch. His fingers almost descend to touch your forearm, but he holds himself back, unsure of whether he was allowed to be so familiar with you or not. 

“If you give me the chance, I can show you just how dangerous it can be.” Unlike him, you stop shying away from his touch, and extend your fingers above until they come in contact with his clothed biceps. You thought he would flinch as soon as he felt your fingers, but he doesn’t and decides to return in kind. He moves his hand down and caresses the top of your shoulder with two fingers, smirking to himself when he sees goosebumps erupt across your skin instantly. 

“As tempting as that sounds, I do believe you owe me a dance.” Obi-Wan refuses to take his eyes off from where he’s warming you with his touch, and against your better judgment, you lean down far enough until you feel his knuckles bump against your cheek. You pray that he understands what it is you’re asking of him, and when he lets go altogether and returns far from your reach, you sigh with desperation and move to the platform in front of him. 

“Before we start, I need to ask. What am I allowed to do to you?”

“Whatever you desire, as long as it leaves no visible markings.” Obi-Wan’s self-assured smile drops for a moment before it graces his features again, and if you weren’t already so desperate to attend to him, you would have stopped and reminded him that he was welcome to leave any time he wanted to. You twirl once around the pole before making your way to the screen at the other end of the room, scrolling through the varying tunes to find one that you thought perfect for him. 

“Where can I touch you, Master Obi-Wan?” You ask as you continue your search, not wanting to turn around until you are sure of the song. 

“Wherever you please, my lady.” Whereas he took a few moments to respond to your previous questions, his reply is instantaneous, making you smile at how affected he was quickly becoming by you. As your eyes dance over the different tunes, your fingers stop sliding across the screen when you finally find what you’re looking for. You select the track and clear your throat before turning around to face him. 

“You are sure?” You ask one last time, not wanting him to feel any ounce of regret before you begin. 

“Positive.” He says as he takes another sip from his drink and licks the droplets adorning his lower lip. 

“What if I- if the moment calls for it, may I kiss you?” You approach the pole slowly, reaching for it and sliding your palms up and down the cold steel while maintaining eye contact with him. He chooses this moment to finally take in your nudity, and you nearly topple over when you see him bite his lip and slide one of his hands down his chest until it rests against his navel. You follow the movement like a loth-wolf, only looking away when he clears his throat and speaks. 

“You are a needy one, aren’t you?” He scratches his stomach lewdly, and for a brief moment, you think he may move his hand a little lower to cup his crotch and relieve the pain he was surely feeling. 

“Please?” You beg as innocently as you can, batting your eyelashes at him as you trail your fingers across your breasts until he groans lowly and slithers his hand lower.

“Since you plead so sweetly, yes. You may kiss me if you wish…wherever you want.” Obi-Wan adds the last bit when he sees you getting distracted by the slow movement of his hand across his crotch, laughing to himself when you trip over your own feet and nearly topple over. 

“Maker,” you barely manage to stand up again, reaching for the pole with both of your hands so you don’t embarrass yourself and fall over before you even start. You want to narrow your eyes at him for playing dirty with you, but as the low beat of the song increases in volume, you do your best to shut him out of your mind long enough to regain your composure. As the words finally wash over the room, you twirl around and gently lower your body down the pole, never once breaking eye contact with Obi-Wan as you let the music lead you through the slithering movement. 

With each touch of your fingers against your damp skin, Obi-Wan feels his pants growing tighter around his cock, and you smile to yourself when you notice his smirk falter for a breadth of a second before his face suddenly turns blank. You fear that you may not be pleasing to him, but as he drags his attention down your form and palms his crotch slowly, you throw your head back and sigh in relief. You wanted to show him what he’s missing, and as you move to the ground and arch your back along with the sensual tune, you turn to face him again and bite into your lower lip, not caring for how wanton you may appear to him as you spread your thighs wide open and push two fingers into your mouth. 

To his credit, he somehow doesn’t react to your behavior, but you notice the hint of red making its way across his sweaty skin as you slide your fingers down your sternum and stomach, making a mess of your drool as you continue until your fingers touch the edge of your lace panties. Obi-Wan doesn’t blink, and part of you wants to ask him if he was feeling unwell, tease him a bit like he has for the past week, but you choose to say nothing and push your fingers into your panties. 

He takes in a deep breath through his nose, the hissing sound making you gush down your thighs almost instantly. The sound is more erotic than it should be, and you forgo every reason why you shouldn’t do what you’re about to do next. Before you can think twice of it, you push the flimsy article of clothing aside and rub the wetness glistening across your cunt. 

Obi-Wan’s expression becomes stern, and his muscles seize up as soon as you push the tips of your fingers past your wet folds, the shallow thrusts driving out more of your cum for his eyes to commit to memory. He swallows thickly and tilts his head forward, wanting to get a better view of your pussy as you alternate between teasing your clit with figure-eights and pushing your juices in and out of your cunt until they stream down your cheeks. 

As soon as he leans his whole body towards you however, you remove your fingers from between your legs and push your body up, kneeling directly in front of him so you can rest your hands on your thighs. The Jedi Master clenches his fists tightly, and you hope that this is what finally pushes him to claim you. But when he doesn’t move another muscle, you pout and fall forward on your hands. Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at you, and you aren’t sure if he is angry or unbelievably horny at your teasing. You pray to the maker that it’s a bit of both, and just to push your luck further, you crawl his way and tap against his knees, silently asking him if you are allowed to touch him any further. He says nothing, and for a second, you think he may actually shake his head and ask you to move away from him. Thankfully, you don’t turn your attention elsewhere and manage to notice the little nod of consent he offers you. 

As carefully as possible, you move to your feet and turn around, bending down one last time as the music shifts to give him a perfect view of the wet fabric shielding you from his hungry eyes. He moves his hands away from his legs in time for you to descend down and seat yourself in his lap. His thighs are wide open and you shiver when you get comfortable and feel his hard cock jut against your asscheeks. You roll your hips several times and laugh when you glance to the side and see his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s fisting his hands. 

Not wanting to drive him away, you throw one leg over each of his thighs and lay back until you can feel his firm stomach support your back. You look up and giggle at the furious gaze already aimed at you, the sound only making the Jedi Master’s eyes glow dangerously. This close, you can smell the intoxicating, masculine scent of him, and it makes you dizzier with each breath you take. For a moment, you forget what you’re meant to be doing, but when the song reaches a high note, you remember your mission and reach your hands above your head, softly caressing the skin of his neck and feeling a sense of pride fill your chest when you feel how hot he is. 

You’re about to ask him if he is still willing to have you continue your dance when the song changes and distracts you. As the tune registers in your mind, goosebumps erupt across your skin at the prospect of being at the mercy of the gentleman beneath you. You had expected him to be more disheveled by now, but when you sit up and turn around in his lap, you find him quiet and direct in his gaze. You falter in your actions, unsure of what you should be doing now that you can see how less affected he was than you. You want to break the tense silence filling the air, but as your eyes take in the specimen of the man, you can’t help but reach out and rest both of your palms against his chest. It expands as soon as you begin to gyrate your hips once more, and before you know what you’re doing, you move one hand to his broad shoulders while the other descends down and digs into his stomach. He’s all hard muscle beneath you, and your breath hitches at the prospect of being underneath his body, with nowhere else to go, unable to do anything that he doesn’t allow. 

The sound of his soft laugh scares you out of your haze, and you remove your hands immediately, not wanting to offend him by your forwardness. Before you can completely move off of him, however, Obi-Wan reaches for your wrists and pulls on them until you’re seated fully on top of him again. His eyes roam down your flushed skin before returning to your own dilated orbs, not saying anything as he continues to chuckle and puts your hands on his chest. He doesn’t let go until he’s sure you won’t move away from him, and as soon as he removes his grip, you mourn the loss of his touch, looking down at your skin to see if the fire spreading across your fingertips was real or if it was merely a feeling he imprinted on your body. 

“I- I must really not be pleasing to you if you’re looking at me and laughing.” You crack a smile, but it barely reaches your ears. You hope that he doesn’t notice how disappointed you are in his reaction to your performance, but when you turn your attention from his collar to his features, you can tell that he can see the sudden lack of excitement exuding from your whole body. 

“It is not your performance I find amusing, little one, but the manner in which you gaze upon me.” Obi-Wan remarks as he allows himself to touch you more intimately, sliding his palms up and down your thighs as if he was trying to calm down a loth-cat. You shiver at the contact, not bothering to hide the effect he was having on you as you melt against him and slowly place your hands atop his. He doesn’t stop, and instead smiles softly at you as he reaches past your upper thighs and grabs your hips. He squeezes you gently, and when your breath hitches at the heat spreading across your form, he holds onto you a little bit harder until you can’t help but meet his gaze. 

“How so?” The question barely comes out louder than a whisper, and you watch with fascination as the Jedi Master shamelessly eyes your heaving chest and licks his lips at the sight of your hardened nipples. 

“Of the two of us, I am more decent. Yet you look upon me as if I am a jorgan fruit when it is I who should consider you among the ripest of sweets.” The eloquence with which he speaks elevates your heart rate, and you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing until he drags one of your hands to his mouth and lays the softest of kisses right above your wrist. You stop breathing altogether, too captivated by the gesture to focus on anything but him, and the confidence he exuded with something as simple as a kiss. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t let go of you, not even when you look away from him and attempt to get back to what you were doing before. He rests your hand on his chest again, letting go of you only to drag his fingers across your nude form until he has your waist beneath his touch. You expect him to guide you across his lap, but he does nothing of the sort, opting to just keep his touch on your heated skin while you take whatever you want from him. 

“Hmm, it’s a shame they hide you behind all those hideous Jedi robes.” You say as you guide your hands up and down his chest, not caring for how wanton you must appear to him as you slide one of your fingers past the brown robes covering his chest so you can get a little closer to his body. You know he must be wearing multiple layers but something about feeling his muscles a little better than before sends you into a frenzy, and you roll your hips against his crotch in an attempt to get a rise out of him. 

But he wouldn’t be who he is if he didn’t have unspeakable self-control, and you silently curse him for being so contained when he doesn’t even increase pressure on your waist or change his expression to warn you. He just stares, and although the blue in his eyes is barely visible, you can tell that he isn’t going to fall to your antics any time soon. 

“Then again, we can’t have you walking around distracting everyone with your impressive form.” You lean forward until his breath fans over your cheeks, and as you turn to the side to kiss his jaw, you slide your hands up his body and cup his neck to make sure he won’t turn away from you. To your surprise, his grip tightens around your waist and pulls you firmly against him. You’re not sure if he wants you to comment on the thickness hitting your inner thigh or not, but you say nothing and enjoy the slow and steady movement he’s leading you through against him. 

“On second thought, maybe they should put you in more revealing robes. You can distract the enemy with those thick thighs of yours, perhaps even your hands.” You shut your eyes and whisper into his ears, giggling against his skin as he digs his nails into your muscles and forces you to stop. You want to lean back to get a better look at him, but something tells you that if you were to make eye contact with him now, you would forgo whatever self-respect you still had and get on all fours for him. Thankfully, Obi-Wan breaks the silence and responds to your brazen remarks. 

“I have heard many compliments before, but never one addressing my hands.”

“That’s a shame, Master Obi-Wan,” you sit up slowly and wait until you have his undivided attention before you take hold of one of his hands, winking at him as you intertwine your fingers with his own and squeeze them gently, “your hands are the first things I noticed about you.”

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan hums when he sees you drag his hand to your mouth until your lips come in contact with one of his fingers. The low sound emanating from his chest makes you shift across his lap to alleviate the pressure threatening to embarrass you further, and you stick your tongue out to lick the tip of his thumb as soon as you notice his eyes roam down your body and almost take notice of the damp material shielding you from him. 

“The way you rub your beard with them when you’re in deep thought makes me wish I could feel them on my skin. They’ve been on my mind all week long if I’m being honest.” You somehow manage to confess your desires to him without tripping over your words, and you choose to suck his thumb deeper into your mouth right as he attempts to respond to you. 

“And what-” the words die in his throat as soon as he feels the heat of your mouth engulf his thumb completely, and he clenches his jaw tightly when your tongue swirls around his finger several times until it’s completely drenched with your drool. “I apologize, what have you thought of when you studied them?” He manages to ask when you finally stop torturing him, but the relief barely remains because you drop his hand suddenly and throw your head back in pleasure when his palm accidentally grazes your breast, the wet thumb barely coming in contact with your nipple before he’s snatching his hand away as if you were molten fire. You snap your attention back to him a moment later, smiling to yourself when you see his pink features blush a deeper shade of red. 

Unlike before, when you could clearly see discomfort etched across his entire body from how intimately you were touching him, you’re taken aback by how oddly calm he is now, and you gyrate your hips a little more aggressively on top of him when you feel his hands grab even harder onto your waist and push you back and forth against him. Neither of you say anything as he slowly moves against you, and you return your attention to his chest in an attempt to ground yourself. The last thing you expected from him, especially after the earlier conversation, was to be so comfortable in touching you, let alone allow you to be so forward with him. You bite into your lower lip when you see him wet his unfairly-kissable lips, and as he mirrors your actions and his eyes darken the longer he looks at you, you moan at the thought of finally tasting him. 

“I thought about if they would feel soft as you trailed them across my neck…or if they would feel calloused from battle as you- maker, as you touched me somewhere more intimate.” Throwing all caution aside, you slither both of your hands down his body until they’re right above his wrists, and before you can get embarrassed by what you’re doing, you drag one of them up your body until he cups one of your breasts, pushing the other one in between your thighs to show him just how much you want him. Obi-Wan sucks in a harsh breath at finally feeling the effect he is having on you, and he barely manages to hold back from fondling your tits or slipping his fingers past your wet panties. He doesn’t dare move a muscle, afraid that whatever spell the two of you were bound by would evaporate and he would be reminded why he shouldn’t be here, beneath you, allowing you to touch him so carelessly. Before he can take his hands back, however, you finish the rest of your confession and send his thoughts into a frenzy, one he hoped he would never fall into again. 

“I thought of how difficult it would be for me to break from them if you held me down as you- stars, as you moved against me.” With each word you whisper to him, you thrust your crotch harshly against the hard outline on his trousers, all the while moaning his name when his hands flex unintentionally and send a strike of pleasure down your spine. He is yet to move his fingers on top of you, but you find ecstasy in the warmth of his skin regardless. When you look down and see his eyes glaze over with pure desperation, you stop moving your hips and lean forward until you’re a hairbreadth away from his lips. 

“I thought of how deliciously painful they would feel if you tugged on my hair as you, hmm.” You don’t finish the rest of your sentiment, a part of you hoping that this would be the push he needs to put the two of you out of your misery. Obi-Wan says nothing for what feels like hours, but as soon as you tilt your head to the side and hover your lips over his, he breaks the silence and shuts his eyes in anticipation. 

“As I what?”

He expects you to finish what you started, let go and mold your lips with his until neither of you can breathe. He even parts his lips and leans forward to let you know that he doesn’t mind whatever you want to do to him. But when he doesn’t feel you grow closer to him, his eyes flutter open and he furrows his eyebrows as he registers the smirk etched on your pretty features. 

“I don’t want to offend your sensibilities, remember?” You whisper to him teasingly, and if Obi-Wan hadn’t spent decades mastering the art of self-control, he’s sure he would have had you caged beneath him on the floor within the blink of an eye. You raise a curious eyebrow at him, letting out a faint giggle when you look into his eyes and see the fury threatening to overtake you at any given moment. In all honesty, you expect him to pull you into his embrace and kiss you harshly until you can’t feel anything but him. You even thought he would ask you before he would do such a thing, seeing as he was more of a gentleman than the others who visited you. 

Or so you thought…

What you don’t expect, however, was to suddenly feel his hand combing through your hair and tugging on it violently until the only thing you could register was the pain spreading across your scalp. You fall forward rather unceremoniously, crying out in a mixture of ecstasy and hurt when he drags the other hand up your body and rests it across your neck. You barely have any time to come to terms with what’s happening, and as you try to sit up so you can look into his eyes, the Jedi Master brings you flush against him and sits up, not bothering to apologize for the way he’s manhandling you as he applies more pressure on your neck to grab your attention.

“As. I. What?” He spits the words out while studying your features for any discomfort, and you smile deeply at him the harder he chokes the air out of your lungs. The hand in your hair tugs violently onto your locks and you try to throw your head back to move along with him, but he doesn’t let you, instead keeping your head centered so you can’t look anywhere else but into his eyes. What you find staring back at you should be terrifying, the sheer need to possess and claim every bit of you coming to light so naturally to him, but you swallow the lump in your throat and surrender yourself completely to him, knowing that you would never be safer than you were in this moment. 

“As you fucked me until the whole of Coruscant knew who was making me feel so kriffing good.” You choke through the words, whimpering his name to plead with him one last time in hopes of finally getting what you want. The sound of his name falling from your lips must be all he needs to hear because your entire body falls forward soon after, and you are met with a pair of soft, hungry lips covering your own in a heated kiss. You're shocked by the turn of events, but the surprise wears off a second later when Obi-Wan sneaks his tongue into your mouth and begins to taste you. You want to maneuver yourself to get more comfortable, but the hold he has on you doesn’t give you any room to move a muscle without his approval. He must know what you want to do because he tilts your head to the side and moans as you melt against him and part your lips wider. You shiver at his dominant touch, grasping onto his robes to keep yourself grounded when the hand in your hair slides down your backside and pushes you impossibly closer to him.

Your lips fall apart at the intimacy of the moment, and you feel your skin flush with goosebumps at being so naked with a fully-dressed Jedi beneath you. He doesn’t slow down once, continuing his assault on your lips until you can no longer breathe, until the only option left for you is to silently beg him to break apart. Your heaving chest draws his attention for a fraction of a second, his eyes trailing down your neck to your sternum with a hunger he never thought he would feel again. When you don’t open your eyes, Obi-Wan leans down and licks across your clavicle, moaning your name repeatedly as the taste of your sweet perfume and sweat seeps into his senses. You call out his name repeatedly, pushing your breasts closer to his mouth in an attempt to tempt his lips to wrap around your nipples and stake his claim on you. Obi-Wan takes advantage of your incoherence, pulling away from your nude body until you were no longer experiencing the heat of his body. He waits until your eyes flutter open before he completely lets go of you and rests his hands on his thighs. 

“Good girl, now get on your knees.” He eyes your shaking form and chuckles to himself at the ease with which he already has you wrapped around his finger. 

“W-what?” You try to escape the haze he’s placed you under, but all you can think of is the heated look he’s giving you as he reaches over and grabs his drink. You’re still seated in his lap, but unlike before, when he ensured you were touching every bit of him, Obi-Wan spreads his legs wider until you can only straddle one of his thighs. 

“I said, on your knees.” He nods towards the ground, taking a sip from his drink and making a show of swallowing the bitter liquid as you obey him and move to the space in between his thighs. You keep your hands on his knees, unsure of where exactly you were allowed to touch him. Your compliance makes his cock painfully hard, and he hisses in discomfort when he tries to adjust himself and only brings his crotch closer to your mouth. It’s getting extremely difficult to breathe, and Obi-Wan attempts to distract himself by reaching for your hair and moving it to the side so he can take a better look at you. You follow his touch like a kitten, and he bites into his cheek to prevent himself from dragging you against the wall and shoving his cock into your wet pussy until you couldn’t feel anything but him. He snatches his hand back, afraid of what he would do to you should you continue chasing his touch the way you are now. 

“Now, be a dear heart and make yourself come on my shoe.” Obi-Wan commands with a dominance you never thought you would be at the receiving end of, let alone from him. Sure the other Jedi tended to lean towards similarly assertive tendencies, but something about the tone with which he was aiming at you now made you clench your thighs and sigh in desperation. 

“I- I don’t think I can.” You respond with feigned innocence, wanting him to slowly approach the point of no return with you. You had a feeling he was capable of much more than he was showing you now, and you wanted to see how far you can go before he would lose it all together and do whatever he pleased with your willing body. However, Obi-Wan was much smarter, and even more patient, than you gave him credit for. He smiles deeply, an expression you would have credited to a Sith than a Jedi, and leans down until you can practically taste his breath on your tongue. 

“Perhaps you would be more willing to try if I offered you an incentive? Make yourself come on my shoe before I finish my drink,” he makes a show of swirling his drink around until he was sure you were giving him your undivided attention, “and you can use either of my hands for your own pleasure. I will, of course, happily oblige should you need the necessary…motions.” His eyes glisten dangerously, and had you not seen his kindness firsthand, you would have thought him capable of the most vicious mind tricks, ones that led you into this very moment purposely. You eyes the drink for a moment before gazing into his eyes, not bothering to hide your nervousness as you swallow the lump in your throat and reach for his hand. He doesn’t move a muscle, taking in the way you caress his knuckles slowly with one finger before enveloping his whole hand with your own. Neither of you is sure whose skin is running hot, but you don’t dwell too long on it, certainly not when he was letting you touch him so closely without disagreement. You pass your fingers gently over the veins adorning the top of his hand, and if you weren’t being asked to make a decision quickly, you would have asked him if it was possible to worship both of his hands to further prove how much you ache for him. 

But that wasn’t the case, and you needed to give him an answer soon, before he thought twice of what he was doing and retraced his words.

“But you said that I can’t leave any visible markings on you!?” You mean to tease him further, long enough to prepare yourself to do whatever he wants, but your words have a somewhat opposite effect on him because a flash of regret, just a slight bit, passes through his features before the smile settles again. You expect him to come to his senses now, realize that he shouldn’t be doing this with you, but the opposite occurs, and you sink comfortably against him as he leans back and relaxes against the couch. 

“The terms have changed,” the effortless manner with which he answers you makes you shift closer to him, and you grab onto his thigh when he widens his stance and moves his leg until the leather of his boot nestles perfectly in between your thighs, “and right now, I desperately wish to see you drench me with your essence.” Obi-Wan doesn’t react to your surprised expression, tilting his head to the side in amusement when you blink nervously at him as you look down and settle yourself on top of his shoe. You dig your nails into the fabric of his trousers in an attempt to have better control over your motions. The Jedi Master doesn’t move one muscle, wanting to see how willing you are to listen to him, especially now that he’s requested from you a rather embarrassing feat. 

Ignoring the embarrassment quickly filling your lungs, you bite into your lower lip and look up into Obi-Wan’s eyes as you move your hips forward once. Your breath catches in your throat at the coarse sensation spreading up your spine, and you regret not taking off your panties before getting down on your knees for him. When you find nothing but sheer pleasure etched on Obi-Wan’s face, you buck your hips once more, moaning softly when you feel his foot move to rub against your clothed cunt a little more harshly. With each motion you take over his boot, the Jedi Master moves his foot along with you, all the while taking small sips from his drink to enjoy the effect he was having on you. 

As your ministrations increase, you find more pleasure in the contact between your wet folds and the wet, rough patch of your lace panties as they catch against your clit each time Obi-Wan raises his foot or pushes it forward to stroke you harder. At a particular push from Obi-Wan, your body falls forward and you rest your cheek against his thigh. As soon as you hear his chuckle, you begin to fuck yourself on his shoe without a care for how you look, the need to reach your pleasure outdoing any shyness you may have held for acting like loth-cat in heat. 

“Oh little one, you would truly obey any command I give you, wouldn’t you?” His chuckle should have pushed you away from him, made you realize how ridiculous you look as you use his foot to get off. But it holds the opposite effect on you, and you manage to look up through dazed eyes just in time to respond to him and push yourself down harder on his now soaking boot. 

“Yes M-master.” Your response must not be what Obi-Wan expects because his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he clears his throat and takes another sip from his drink. He watches with fascination as you continue to ride his boot, briefly looking down at your shaking thighs to commit to memory the dance your body was gracing him with. 

“Look at you, using my shoe to get off. You must be desperate to come if you’re acting like a cockdumb w-” He shakes his head as he talks down to you, and it’s only when you part your lips and bite into his thigh that he catches the words that were about to spill into the air and offend you. His body goes rigid, not because you seem to quicken your actions at the outburst of words he threw at you, but because he allowed himself to be careless enough to almost degrade you. 

“Please, keep…keep talking,” you’re panting at this point, violently rubbing your pussy down on his foot to reach that little high he’s promised to extend should you obey his commands. When he doesn’t respond right away, you force yourself to look up at him and silently beg him to continue. 

“I- I didn’t mean to-” Obi-Wan trips over his words, and you groan in irritation when you feel your orgasm begin to fade away now that he wasn’t moving his foot or talking you into coming on him.  

“Stop fucking apologizing and keep talking. I don’t care what- what you say. Call me whatever you want to call me, just please…please keep talking.” You snap at him in anger, only to panic as you realize how he may react. Maker, if he chose this very moment to punish you for your words, for presuming to speak with him in such a way, you think you might actually die from the sheer sexual frustration he’s placed you under. A few silent moments pass, but you don’t stop once, widening your legs further so you can feel as much of the leather of his boot pass over your cunt as possible. You throw your head down, resting on his knee as you fuck yourself on his boot, and only when you sense him moving beneath you do you finally look up into his eyes. 

“My darling girl is nothing but a whore for me, isn’t she?” His voice is raw, his tone almost as needy as you are, and you drag your lower lip in between your teeth as soon as he comes forward and whispers down at you. “You’re a whore for a Jedi Master you barely know. I have barely touched you, yet your sweet cunt is weeping for me, begging for me.” The truth overshadowing his words shouldn’t make you want him more, but you cry out his name as you wrap your mind around what he’s revealing to you. A small, more coherent voice in the back of your mind warns of the consequences of proving him right, but you brush it aside as his boot moves up and down against your clothed cunt. “That’s it, get my shoe nice and wet for me. Let me walk around with the scent of you etched on my clothes.” You move your hands up his thighs, closer to where you wish you can touch him, and Obi-Wan waits until your palms near his crotch before distracting your mind, winking once at you as he tips his drink back and swallows down the bittersweet drink. 

“How do you feel, little star?” He sets the drink down on his other thigh as he rubs his mustache and beard, his chest filling with pride when he sees the effect such a simple action has on you. 

“I- I want more, please.” You plead with him, letting go of his clothes to reach down and push your panties to the side. But Obi-Wan is much quicker, and you feel an invisible hold clasp onto your wrist and prevent you from moving so much as an inch. Shock replaces the shameless hunger that has overtaken your entire body, and you look down to see if he’s somehow grabbed hold of your hand without you noticing. When you see that there was clearly nothing wrapped around your skin, you shoot your attention back to him and gasp as realization washes over you. 

Maker. 

He was using the Force to control you. 

Not even the other Jedi dared to dominate you in such a way. They often spoke of how unique and sacred their connection with the Force was. To be at the receiving end of such power, especially when it was Obi-Wan who was coaxing you into submission, made you feel special.

It was exhilarating. 

“Give me what I asked for, and you will get more.” He says matter-of-factly, causing you to flinch at the sudden edge dancing in his voice. You don’t try to move your hand again, unsure of what would happen should he mistake your attempt to return your hand to his thigh as a silent request to let go of you. He must be able to read your mind somehow because he moves your hand back to his thigh for you, the corner of his mouth turning up into a grin as your body shakes with newfound energy. He doesn’t dwell too long on your reaction to having him control you through the Force, knowing that if he were to humor it for another second, he would have complete control over your body in the blink of an eye and decide to have his way with you. 

“Kriff, can you at least ahh-” Your needy response snaps him out of his momentary haze, the sound of your voice turning into a rather inappropriate groan shooting straight to his cock. He can feel himself harden the longer he studies your ecstasy, and it takes every ounce of control in his body to not reach down and free his cock so he could shove it in your mouth. 

“What does my needy little cockslut want? Use your words, my darling, and tell me what it is you desire.” He asks instead, hoping that you can distract him long enough to finally give him what he wanted ever since he walked into the room. 

“Y-your hands.” The whispered confession makes him straighten his back, and were it not for the constant pull and push of your hips against him, Obi-Wan is sure he would have been the one begging you to touch him. 

“How do you want them?” He humors you, knowing fully well that he isn’t going to retract his promise and give you his hand sooner than he intends. 

“In my hair…a-around my throat, in my mouth…I don’t care Master, I just want you to touch me with your hands. Please, I’ll do anything you want.” The sinful exclamation hits Obi-Wan like a blaster, and he realizes quickly that his previous thought was far from the truth. He was sure of the extent to which you wanted him, but he never thought you were the type to be so lust-hazed and shameless to the point of outright telling him that you would do anything he asked of you just to have him touch you with his hands. 

“You may regret those words, darling girl.” Obi-wan comments dangerously, and you frantically shake your head at him to prove to him that you are telling the truth. 

“Oh maker, I’m so close. Please Master, touch me.” You beg one last time, praying to the maker that he has mercy on you and gives you what you need to finally reach that inevitable ecstasy. You’ve lost yourself to the sensation dragging deliciously against your wet cunt, focusing every last bit of your attention on rubbing your clit over the smooth leather of his boots repeatedly until you finally come and please him. As you drag your pussy over and over again, you vaguely feel him moving above you, and somehow manage to open your eyes just in time to see him stare you down as he brings the glass to his lips and drink down the last bit of whiskey, the few droplets adorning his lips forcing you to cry out in pain at the thought of not meeting his expectations, and in turn, missing out on feeling his hands roam over your body. 

“No, no please I’m-” before you can finish whatever desperate plea threatening to make you look even more ridiculous, Obi-Wan slams the whisky glass down on the table beside him before reaching out and taking hold of your neck. You throw your head back to relish the hot, tight feeling of his palm as it squeezed your jugular tightly, only to gasp his name lewdly when his other hand twists in your hair and tugs on it until he has full control of your upper body. You part your lips in a silent scream, looking into Obi-Wan’s dilated orbs through heavy-lidded eyes as he brings your attention back to him in time to watch you fall apart at his touch. He parts his lips in kind, exhaling slowly as he commits to memory the intimacy of the moment, the quickness with which your beautiful, debauched features change as you’re on the verge of coming. The Jedi Master leans down even closer until he’s breathing the same air you are, and he tightens his hold on your neck one last bit, enough to push you over the edge and watch as you come undone for him. 

 “I…I’m cuh-  ahhhh,” the words die in your throat as you seize up, and Obi-Wan uses this moment to his advantage, quickly moving his foot back and forth when he notices you are no longer able to move on top of him. He glances down just in time to see his boot glisten with your cum, and he swears silently at the filthy sight of your lace panties drenching further the harder he rubs his boot against you. He tilts his head to the side to lay the softest of kisses over your forehead, not bothering to stop his ministrations until he has coaxed every last ounce of pleasure from you. He had asked you to fuck yourself on his boot, and you obeyed him with enthusiasm. Although you didn’t particularly carry out his command, Obi-Wan understood the difficulty of what he asked. His “aid” had nothing to do with his need to mark your body with his touch or see evidence of your pleasure seep onto his clothes. Not at all. 

At least that’s what he would tell himself long after he returns home. 

His attention returns to you once more when he feels your body go limp against him. Your hands suddenly let go of his trousers and you sigh heavily as you melt into his touch. Obi-Wan feels an invisible string tug at his heart when he sees your vulnerability push through everything else threatening to distract him away from the intimacy of the moment. He’s unsure of the sudden emotions threatening to overtake him, and it’s only when he opens up to your Force signature that he finally understands the storm brewing in his chest. 

You were, in every sense of the word, completely submitting to him. 

And your Force signature, with its fiery and heated flares, was longing for the merest of touches from his own, somewhat controlled aura. He was shaking, partially from the trust you were offering to me, but mostly due to the yearning he felt through the Force, as if you were reaching out to him with reluctance and hope, wishing that he would offer you a similar sentiment. 

His hold loosens around your neck as he becomes increasingly distracted by you, and as he tries to maneuver you around so you don’t fall to the ground, he accidentally moves his foot and causes you to flinch to life from how sensitive you probably were. A shiver courses down your spine at the touch of the leather in between your thighs, and you try to help him with your body weight, but fail miserably when it occurs to you that he’s truly rendered you motionless. 

“Come here, little one.” He soothes your muscles as he drapes you over his lap, until you rest your head on his shoulder and your legs lay across his body comfortably. 

“You did so well for me, so well for your Master.” Obi-Wan tilts your chin up, smiling down at the blissed out expression you grace him with before he leans down and kisses your forehead again. The hair of his beard tickles you softly, and when he begins to move away, you seek him out and slide your hands up his neck, wanting to touch as much of him as possible. He chuckles at your neediness, throwing his head back momentarily when you nuzzle into his neck and inhale deeply. 

“T-thank you,” you whisper in return, all the while fisting your hands into the fabric of his beige tunic to feel grounded. It’s not possible to return to your senses so soon, but you feel as if your skin will crawl with ants if you aren’t touching him closely and relishing in the proximity he’s offering you so willingly. You stick your nose into the side of his neck as you bring yourself impossibly closer to him, wanting to commit his scent and his taste, and the rigidity of his muscular body to memory. The man has only teased you for the past week, even more so in the past hour alone, so you couldn’t pass up the chance of diving into this sensation if you could. He was here, in your arms, letting you do as you pleased with him as if you were more to each other than complete strangers, as if your link of work wasn’t accidently entangled with his for the time being. 

Your eyes flutter open when your brain finally comes to again, and you’re met with a rather reddened patch of skin extending down from his cheeks to his neck. You turn away to take a better look at him, your breath hitching dramatically when you find his normally blue eyes almost as black as the night. It wasn’t as if you thought he wouldn’t be affected by your actions, but you were definitely shocked by the extent to which he was, especially when you were the one pleading for him to pull you towards that high. You blink once before you lean up and kiss his jaw, finding the thick hair adorning his handsome features more of a turn on that you cared to admit. He groans when your lips rest on his cheek, the simple gesture meant to illustrate to him the depths of your need instead sending a strike of heat straight to his cock. He hates that it makes him twitch in his pants, how soft your lips caress his skin, how heated it makes him feel when it doesn’t compare anywhere near what you just did to him. 

For him. 

When he’s sure you won’t mind it, Obi-Wan slips his hand over your clavicle and grabs the hair at the nape of your neck, waiting until you pull away from him before he breaks the silence. 

“As promised…my hands to do with whatever you desire.” The cheeky comment breathes life into your body and you rest your head on his hand when you notice him trying to pull away. He pauses for a moment, looking across your features to commit every crease and every flushed skin to memory. Knowing that it would be unfair to hold out any longer, he takes his hand away and roams it down your body, briefly passing his palm over your nude torso as he pays every inch of you equal attention. You shiver when one of his hands wraps around your waist and squeezes you tightly, only to feel the other dig into your upper thigh until the flushed skin turned a lighter color. 

Gods above. You hoped he could handle you a little harder, leave his mark for you to reminisce over long after he leaves. You’re close to asking him to do so even, but then you meet his gaze and instantly drop your focus to his reddened lips. Gone is the need to have him color your body with brushing devotion, the feeling immediately replaced with a desperation to have his lips engulf your own in a heated kiss overtaking your entire person until you can no longer hold back from asking him the necessary question. 

“Master Obi-Wan, may I please kiss you?” You reluctantly inquire, never once breaking eye contact with him out of fear of missing any discomfort he may try to hide for the sake of “repaying” your hospitality. You’re about to spiral down that line of thought when Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows curiously at you, as if you just asked him a completely random, and unnecessary question. 

“Have I not given you permission before, dear heart?” His hold tightens around you when your body moves, and you beg your heart to calm down, afraid that it may betray you and fool you into thinking that he fears you removing yourself from him. 

“Yes but-” You try to explain to him that you value his consent above all else, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else, launching himself forward and smashing his lips against your own. Whereas the earlier kiss stole your breath away with how aggressive and demanding it was, this one makes you forget how to function altogether. You shove your hands into his auburn locks as soon as you feel the hand around your back slide up to your neck and push on your head. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was as desperate for you as you were for him, but you don’t think on that, once again afraid of what your mind might run away with if you allowed it to humor such a sentiment. Parting your lips for him, you dare to sneak your tongue into his mouth to explore him as you dreamt for so long, sighing heavily against him when you’re met with an equally excited but more dominant tongue swirling around your own. The taste of him is intoxicating, somehow sweet and bitter at the same time. You think perhaps that the latter comes from the whiskey, but you realize that he may be a combination of both naturally. 

It quickly becomes unimportant to you as soon as Obi-Wan growls into the kiss. Up until now, you’ve barely heard any reaction from him except for the occasional low moan, but here he was, assaulting you with a hunger you never thought you would be at the receiving end of, and revealing to you just how much he wants you. The sounds escaping his throat make you clench your thighs together, and you try to break the kiss to ask him if he can slip his hand in between your legs but as soon as you pull away, the fingers intertwined in your hair tug harshly and force you back against his lips. You don’t try to do anything of the likes again, content with surrendering yourself to the Jedi Master you prayed to the maker would spare you a second glance. It’s only when you accidentally grace your nails against his neck that he pulls away and swears openly against your mouth, his breaths coming in harshly and quickly, as if he was trying to breathe in the air leaving your lungs and nothing else. 

“Oh sweet one, your lips must have been crafted by the angels, for they are the softest creation I have had the pleasure of touching.” Obi-Wan doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else, returning his attention to your lips once more in an attempt to make you forget everything except him. He becomes more bold, waiting until you sigh openly into his mouth before taking your lower lip in between his teeth and biting down on it. You’re not sure what it is that makes you jump in shock, the rather aggressive behavior he was allowing himself to experience with you or the sheer desperation that must be clouding his thoughts to the point where he felt the need to claim your mouth with such ferocity. You don’t bother trying to think of anything else except how full and dominant his lips feel around your own, and only when he pushes his tongue violently into your mouth that you suddenly have the urge to suck on it. You do without a second thought, hoping that he doesn’t find the action too childish or presumptive. His opinion on the matter is revealed instantaneously when he moans lewdly against you and tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there drowning in each other, but when the need for air outgrows the desire for each other, Obi-Wan lets go and sits back against the couch, wrapping his arm around your waist to make sure that you won’t try to pull too far apart from him. He nudges your hair with his nose, taking in a deep breath to fill his senses with your sweet scent. He isn’t sure how to make sense of it, but he thinks that it compliments your Force signature well.  

“You don’t need to say those words, I- I will do anything to make you feel good.” You interrupt his journey to memorizing every aspect of your presence, and it’s only when the self-deprecating claim finally registers in his mind that he leans back and frowns at you.

“You think my words are untruthful?”

“It…they’re not- I didn’t…” You’re not sure why his reaction makes you regret ever speaking your mind, but you cradle his neck as you try to explain to him why you had to tell him how you feel. Thankfully, Obi-Wan notices your struggle, and he removes his hand from your nude skin, mirroring your actions and cupping your cheek until you are forced to only look at him. 

“Little one, if the past hour proved anything, it is that you are willing to offer yourself to me without anything in return.” He says strictly, the tone of his voice, although edgy, manages to soothe you into satisfaction. The contentment washing over you isn’t out of pride, as if you wanted to hear those specific words uttered from him, but more of a reflection of your insecurities when met with someone as kind and beautiful as him. 

“I need not lie to get what I crave from you.” Obi-Wan continues, the thin cerulean line visible behind his dilated pupils shifting you back into a trance where he is the sole ruler of the universe. 

“So I assure you, whatever falls from my lips journeys straight from my heart.” The conviction with which he delivers the soulfull sentiment sends you into a silent frenzy, and you try to thank him for putting your mind at ease, for understanding the battle currently storming across your mind, but all that comes out is his name, barely louder than a whisper, breathed enough only for him to hear, as if the universe would fall apart if anyone else heard you. 

“Obi-Wan.”

“Besides, the acquaintance of your beauty, and honor, will never fail to amaze me. I- I find it difficult to speak less of the effect you have on me, sweet one.” He passes his thumb over your lower lip, utterly mesmerized by the tenderness and compliance returning his affections. The cloud misting over him lifts when Obi-Wan notices a hunt of giddy unrest fills his senses. He knows it’s not him, because he’s never felt this calm and wanting before, so he’s instantly alert because the prospect of being the reason behind the sudden spike of panic in your Force signature brings discomfort to the forefront of his mind. 

“I- I need you. Now, please. Whatever you’re willing to give me, I- I just want you to touch me.” Your voice is shaking, a manifestation of whatever your mind and body were currently experiencing, and as much as the Jedi Master hates to admit it, it makes him feel better that your agitation was born out of the sheer need you reserve for him and not because he’s done something to upset you.  

“Where do you want me to touch you?” He wonders as softly as he can, wanting to bring your nerves back down so you could tell him exactly what you want from him. 

“Anywhere…e-everywhere.” Your breathing is somewhat less erratic than a moment ago, and Obi-Wan’s chest fills with pride and possession at the thought of being the sole reason behind your nearly-tangible arousal. 

“Hmm, as tempting as that sounds,” he makes a show of drawing his eyes across your body slowly, licking his lips and humming in approval when he notices how hard your nipples are. He continues his journey down your form, already knowing where he most wants to touch you, but he decides to toy with you a little bit longer, wanting to drag this out as much as possible so your pleasure reaches a new height when he finally slips his fingers in between your thighs. 

“Obi-Wa..ahhh-” you whine his name, only to throw your head back when you feel his fingers come to rest against your clothed, heated core. He has barely touched you, the palm of his hand only managing to contain the damp, hot sensation pulsating across your slit, but you can’t find it in yourself to say anything, let alone breathe properly, out of fear of splitting your attention with the feeling of his capable, strong hand as it held you tightly. 

“I think I will start with this sweet little cunt that has been weeping for my attention.” Obi-Wan coos against your skin, licking the shell of your ear as he tests the waters and gently rubs the damp patch of the lace panties shielding you from him. Your thighs fall wide open almost immediately, causing him to move down the sofa so he can accommodate you better. He spread his own legs to ensure that you won’t slide off of him, unable to hold back the moan that rumbles through his chest when he looks down and sees just how soaked you are. 

“Oh darling darling girl, you are positively drenched for me. Is this all for me? Are you this wet for a man you barely know?” He questions lewdly, his voice a mixture of unabashed hunger and barely-contained excitement. You shut your eyes to relish the sensations his careful, unhurried ministrations are sending up your spine, only to flutter them open when he taps twice against your engorged clit in warning. You barely manage to open your eyes, and when you turn to look at him, you shudder at the absolutely maddening, lust-filled gaze he throws at you. It’s only when he draws lazy circles over the flimsy fabric that you remember he’s asked you a question, and you nearly shake your head to try and recall what it was he wanted to know.

“Yes- oh maker, yes. It’s for you…it’s all f-for you.”

Your response must please Obi-Wan because he clenches his jaw tightly and forgoes the plan he originally held for you. Without a warning, he lunges forward and swallows your moans as he slips his fingers beneath your panties, coating his hand with your wetness right before pushing two, thick digits into your cunt. You arch your back as soon as you feel his expert fingers slide deeper into your aching pussy, your own hands shooting to his robes in an attempt to grow closer to him. You expected him to set an unforgiving pace, make you cry out from the possessive nature of his fingers, until your body recognized the marks of his touch and waited for them again. But he doesn’t, and a small part of you wishes he was as cruel as you thought him capable of being. 

“H-how are you this fucking tight? Stars, the things I could do to your filthy body.” He breaks your train of thought, breathing the words harshly against your lips while sliding his fingers inside you until your walls flutter around the length of his calloused digits. He doesn’t move then, wanting to simply feel the heat of your cunt. When he does finally move, it’s as if a thousand stars exploded across your body, all due to the expert curl of his fingers and the delicious way the ridges along the palm of his hand slide against your clit. You part your lips to let out a scream, but only silence follows as the thickness filling you passes perfectly against your tight walls, deep enough to tease that spongy, sensitive place that makes you cry in ecstasy. Obi-Wan grins at you, leaning over and kissing the corner of your mouth until the only sensation you are experiencing is him.  

“If I asked you to get on your hands and knees for me…right this moment, would you listen to me dear one?” He practically growls the question, the pet name falling from his lips driving you mad with need to have him only ever call you as such. You’re rather shocked by how easy it comes to him, but you don’t question it, not wanting him to withdraw such sentimental words and call you something else.

“Yes Master, I- I would. I’ll do anything you want me to do. I- oh gods…I promise.” Your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, only to switch into a lewd scream when he rubs his palm against your clit while circling his fingers against your quivering walls. 

“You may want to retract such valuable words.” The Jedi Master warns, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin with the serious, almost threatening tone of his voice. 

“N-never.”

“You do not know what I am capable of, my darling cockslut. I could pull you apart with a mere snap of my fingers, could have you begging for mercy with the flick of my thumb…if I wanted to.” He licks across your sternum, parting with his desires for you with each new bit of flesh he marks with his tongue. Obi-Wan waits until you’re so far gone in the new sensation he’s delivering to your body before making his way across the valley of your breasts, chuckling menacingly to himself when he bites just above your aching nipple and sends you into another frenzy. 

“Do y-your worst General, I can ta- ahhhh,” he cuts you off before you can finish your thought, managing to catch you off guard with his other hand as it ascends up your back and wraps around your neck while his mouth assaults your nipple. You’re not sure how he is capable of such quick, limber movements, but you find that you don’t particularly care as he grips your jugular tighter while his teeth nip and tug on your hardened peak. 

“Ah ah ah,” Obi-Wan parts his lips to warn you again, but his teeth never once ease up on your nipple as he continues to speak, “I do not recall allowing such a tone from your lips.” He manages to retort before he finally shows some mercy on your flushed skin, alternating between licking the reddened flesh and sucking on your breasts to leave more harsh marks wherever he pleases. 

“Master, I-” There’s not an ounce of coherence left in your mind, and you aren’t exactly certain of what it is you were about to ask him, but the moment derails quickly when Obi-Wan cuts you off, yet again, and offers you a delicious proposition.  

“Deserve to be punished?” He inquires, twisting his fingers inside your wet pussy as if his goal was to turn you into a stuttering, puddled mess. He presses down on your jugular as he increases the ministrations of his other hand, his own pleasure reaching a new zenith with he feels your throat move as you gasp for air. Obi-Wan takes this moment to truly gaze upon you, and he finds himself overflowing with hunger when he roams his eyes down your body and sees the erratic movement of your chest as it rises and falls with each harsh breath you take.

“I can feel your cunt begging to come undone for me. Go on my sweet fuckdoll, and come for your Master.”

It is frowned upon, the emotions swirling through him and threatening to make him forget what he is. Who he is. 

Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a Master who is on the Council of his kind. He knows better than anyone the dangers of feeling this level of possession of someone, this degree of attachment solely centered around an individual’s pleasure. He knows this would only complicate things, not only for himself, but for you as well. 

But as he regards you now, in the throws of passion, your lithe form giving up all control for him…to him…he simply cannot find a single care for anything expected of him, not when you were offering him such intimate salvation, a level of fulfillment and rapture unlike anything he has ever encountered before, with nothing expected of him in return. 

Master Kenobi decides, then and there, that whatever transpired this night would not be amongst the growing list of regrets he’s kept hidden in his heart ever since he came to Coruscant all those years ago.

No, the universe, perhaps even the Force itself, was offering him a guide, one that would aid him in navigating whatever the future held. Who was he to deny stardust from finding its way back into the living universe once more?

Because that’s what he considered you—after everything he witnessed in the past few rotations, and the titillating, silent conversation he’s held with you long before he walked in here—a constellation of stardust seeking him out to show him the way to a happier existence, one filled with light, warmth, and authenticity.

“I- I think I’m…Obi-” He feels his heart threaten to leap out of his chest when he turns his attention back to your features and finds your eyes glistening with unshed tears. Whether they are of pain or pleasure he is unsure, but he knows that he would wipe them away with his tongue should they roll down and caress your cheeks. Something switches in his mind, and Obi-Wan decides to put you out of your misery, wanting more than anything to watch you as you experience pleasure at his hands. 

“I know dearest, I know. And I want you to. Be a good girl and come for me. Baptize me with your essence.” He encourages you, curling his fingers violently inside you and pushing down on the curve of your walls in a come-hither gesture, watching with fascination as your muscles seize up before rippling above him. You moan rather loudly into the air, and Obi-Wan can’t help himself from shoving his fingers into your mouth to silence you. He wants nothing more than for everyone in this sector to know who’s pleasuring you, but the need to push his digits into your mouth to feel the wetness of your tongue outgrows the primal and possessive behavior over your existence and everyone around you. 

It’s only when he vaguely hears the increasing volume of wet sounds as he continues to fuck you with his fingers that he finally looks down and sees the mess you’re making of him. 

“Fuck, look at you falling apart on my fingers. You are t-the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld.” He remarks with excitement, his eyes zeroing in on your heated core as he elongates your orgasm and forces you to gush like a stream over him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s aware that you’re soaking his clothes, but he doesn’t care one bit, wanting to ensure that you have reached your high properly, sweetly. If he wants to walk around with the scent of your cum etched on his clothes, if only to feel a unique sense of joy, he doesn’t bother to make a mention of it, knowing that it would mean so much more to the two of you if he voices said desire out loud.

When the bite of your teeth over his fingers becomes slightly too painful for Obi-Wan to handle, he relaxes his hand and stops his movement altogether, not wanting to drive you into any uncomfortable oversensitivity. He doesn’t remove his fingers from your cunt, wanting to relish the way your walls quiver around him in your post-orgasmic haze. Your body shakes less violently now, but your heated core continues to flutter around him, and he doesn’t remove his eyes from your face once as he drags out his fingers a little, smiling to himself when your eyebrows contort along with your lips as feeling him softly pass over your engorged clit. He tries to remove his fingers from your mouth next, but you shift your face and follow his hand, only relaxing more into his chest when you’re sure he won’t remove them. 

The sweat clings on Obi-Wan’s forehead as he watches you suck and roll your tongue around his fingers, and if he were a better man, he would have taken this as a sign to stop this interaction before it leaves an irreversible mark on his memory. 

“T-thank you, Master Kenobi.”

Then he hears your voice, your soft, hoarse, content voice as it thanks him, and the Master Jedi is sure he wants nothing more than for things to get out of hand. In fact, he thinks he might cease to exist if he doesn’t, at the very least, feel your mouth on him. He schools his features as best as he can, even though he doesn’t mind you seeing him so unhinged, so needy for you. But he’s sensed your Force signature earlier, and he knows you don’t mind if he’s a little rough with you. Waiting until you turn to look at him, Obi-Wan smirks as he leans into you and kisses just below your ear. You whine at the close proximity, the sound turning into a lewd moan when he removes his fingers from your cunt completely and raises them until you can see them. You gasp when you follow the trail of wetness down his arm and notice evidence of your orgasm across his robes. There is a moment of panic that fills the silence stretching between the two of you and you turn to him quickly, your mind already racing with apologetic words you should tell him so he doesn’t leave you now. 

But you don’t find an angry or disappointed look in his eyes as you expected. Instead, Obi-Wan is staring at you as if you’ve given him such a precious gift, one he’s been longing to receive for so long now. You swallow the lump in your throat as he drags his wet hand across your body and spreads your cum all over your breasts. When you still seem stuck in your mind, he pinches one nipple and rubs the pain away with his thumb until your eyes convey some sense of presence once more.

“Hmm,” he hums deeply, the sound reverberating through his chest making him sound like a predator happy with the prey he just caught, “do not think my generosity flows as enthusiastically as your cunt, little one.” His words send a new wave of heat across your body and you part your lips in an attempt to apologize again, but Obi-Wan shakes his head and removes his hands from you, leaving you cold and desperate for him. He nods down to his robes and throws one arm against the back of the sofa, making you wish his skin was not hidden from your hungry eyes. 

“You made a mess of my Jedi robes, and I expect you to clean them. Thoroughly.” The command surprises you, mostly because you were sure he would leave now that you broke one of the two rules he set in place before you started. You don’t mention his prior words though, knowing that he probably didn’t forget what he asked earlier, and was merely extending his ‘limits.’

“Y-yes Master.” You whisper as you push off of him, slightly wobbling on your feet as soon as you stand in between his thighs. You turn back around and feel your face flush with heat at the grin on Obi-Wan’s face. Of course he was proud of what he’s done to you. A deep breath of courage fills your lungs as you descend to the ground and sit in between his thick, wet thighs for the second time that night. You look up at him, silently asking him if you could proceed. He raises one eyebrow at you, the barely-visible cerulean of his eyes briefly shifting down to where you marked him before returning to meet your own orbs again. 

You lick your lower lip before capturing it in between your teeth, trying your best to set aside the nerves threatening to well up in your chest. He pleasured you with ease, ensuring your satisfaction was met, twice over, when he could have easily ignored you and sought out his own ecstasy. A part of you wished he could tell you exactly what he wanted you to do to him, but you got the sense that he was leaving it up to you so he wouldn’t be forcing you to do anything you didn’t want. Little did you know that Jedi Master currently eye-fucking you didn’t care what you did as long as you touched him. You take in the impressive body you somehow still had access to, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach up and place your hands on his chest, not caring for how ridiculous you probably looked as you dragged the palms of your hands down his body until you memorized every rough and soft ridge of him. 

When you reach the lower part of his navel, right above where you wish you could taste him, you look back into his eyes and spread your hands as far out as possible before moving them around the painful tent in his trousers, towards his inner thighs.

“F-force help me,” Obi-Wan hisses at your teasing actions, and you notice the skin of his knuckles turn even whiter as he fists his hands in the cushions around him. You want that level of passion to leave indents on your skin, but you don’t say so just yet, unsure of whether he’d be willing to go that far with you or not. Not daring to break his gaze, you oh-so-slowly lean down and shove your nose where you think the base of his cock is, shamelessly inhaling deeply until the only thing you can smell is his deep, natural musk and the faint scent of your cum sticking to the wet fabric of his trousers. 

Obi-Wan flinches at the obscene sound of your breathing, and his hands shoot to the cushions around him when you moan your pleasure against the side of his hard dick. He’s never seen such an unhinged act before, and he knows he’ll never witness one so filthy and wanton ever again. The knot in his stomach tightens further, and he tries his best to meditate on anything but the unrestrained behavior you were gracing him with, but he can’t find a single, coherent thought to latch on because you don’t stop what you’re doing and decide to pay equal attention to every inch of him. 

“What- what do you think you are doing?” Anyone else hearing the tone of his question would think he was incredibly irritated but you smile at him as you rest your cheek on his thigh, wetting your lips one more time before tilting your head until your mouth rests against the side of his cock. Without missing a beat you lay the softest of kisses on his trousers and watch with fascination as the Jedi’s hands itch to shoot to your hair and pull harshly on it until you answered his question. 

“Ever since you walked in here, I- I couldn’t stop thinking about scenting you. I wondered if you would smell like the woods, earthy and inviting…or if you would smell spicy like cinnamon and chamomile.” You pause between every other word, continuing your journey across his crotch and sniffing as much of his as possible. You shut your eyes to enjoy the moment, knowing that you’ll never have another Jedi so submissive and patient beneath you as you mapped his desires. You know it’s taking every ounce of control for Obi-Wan to not push you underneath him and remind you who’s in charge, and you relish the feeling of having this much of an effect on him. With each bit of new fabric you sniff, you feel his cock twitch against you, pushing you into leaving a trail of kisses where you wish you can touch him without any barrier. And although the thought is quite pathetic, you find yourself jealous of the cushions currently being fisted beneath his hands.  

“And maker in heaven, you…smell…absolutely…divine.” You inhale deeply in between every word, pushing your nose as violently as possible into his clothed dick until his hips buck against you. Even when you stop, you still feel him trying to push his crotch closer to your mouth, and you don’t bother denying him, parting your lips until the heat radiating off of him fills your mouth with every bit of him he attempts to shove into you. 

“F-fuck,” Obi-Wan swears desperately when he sees you stick your tongue out and drag it across the length of his cock, not stopping until his trousers hold evidence of your drool and your cum everywhere. You remember how you got into this position, and decide to take the task to a whole new level. As your eyes flutter open once more, you seek his out and wait until he shifts his focus from your mouth to your gaze before shoving his thighs farther apart. His legs spread as wide as possible and you take advantage of the shock written on his face to push him a little more. Moving your tongue around, you collect as much saliva as possible on it before spitting down on the hardness threatening to rip his trousers. Obi-wan growls, and you swear you’ve never heard a more beautiful sound in your life. Not wanting to waste any more time, you lean down and spread the new wetness across the tight fabric hiding him from you, smiling in satisfaction when you push your nose against the head of his cock and smelling the faint scent of his own pleasure seeping through the damp material. You pout when you look down and find a dry spot on his pants, and without missing a beat, you spit on your fingers and rub the trail of saliva across the base of his cock, whining your desires to him when you feel his balls against the palm of your hand. 

Obi-Wan is sure he’s died and joined the Force because never in his life did he think he’d ever be wanted so desperately. He thought you’d lick him for a few moments before asking him what else he wants from you, but it seems that you took his words more to heart than he thought you would. With each pass of your tongue, the Jedi Master feels his heart drum wildly against his chest, and with each little sniff you steal as you push your nose harshly against his achingly hard cock, he prays to the maker that he doesn’t cum in his trousers and embarrass himself in front of you. 

Up until this moment, it was clear how much you wanted him. You even told him so when you began to dance for him. But never in his wildest dreams did he think you capable of such disgustingly beautiful behavior. And even though he enjoyed every touch you offered him, he was slowly starting to fear what such knowledge would do to him following this night. 

The thought quickly evaporates from his mind, however, when you grow more bold with your hands and knead the length of him with one hand while the other reaches down to fondle his balls through the now-irritating material of his trousers. 

“No wonder you’re so confident. Your cock is so hard and thick to the touch…so hot.” He’s not sure if you’re talking to him or yourself, but he finds that it turns him on regardless because that part of him, that laid dormant for so long, was finally receiving praise for being objectively exceptional. Obi-Wan was not a vain man, far from it, but the fact that he was clearly pleasing to you made his chest fill with pride, especially since he was not the first Jedi to partake in such acts with you. He prays you continue to whisper your approval to him, not because he is doubtful of his physique, but because he needs you to never stop thinking of how perfect he is for you. “And your scent is…fuck Master, your scent is so masculine, and so fucking mouthwatering.” You lean down and fill your senses with the scent and taste of him, unable to hold back from telling him how much you crave him. 

And fuck, you did crave him…painfully. But you knew better than to ask him to cross that boundary and move into uncharted, probably uncomfortable, territory with you. 

“The- the mouth on you could raise w-worlds to ashes.” He finally breaks his silence, his voice hoarse from how dry his throat has become. It only makes you smile deeper at him, and you kiss along the hardened length of his cock to further prove his words, the taste of your cum now almost gone from him. You’re about to massage him through his trousers when he pushes his hand into your hair and pulls you off of him. The sting coursing through your scalp distracts you momentarily, but it is gone as soon as Obi-Wan lets go of your hair and immediately fumbles with the edge of his pants. 

“What-” You ask at the sudden shift in his behavior, unsure why he was now willing to cross that line, let alone take his clothes off in front of you. You want to reach out and stop him before he reveals himself to you, but you can’t find it in yourself to do so, that overwhelmed, needy part of you—that came to life as soon as you walked into this room and saw him—telling you that this was finally your chance to show him how good you can be for him. 

“Free my cock, sweet one. Now.” Obi-Wan’s breathing is erratic, and your fingers itch to aid him with his trousers when you see the intoxicating, dazed spirit that befalls him as he unfastens the top of his pants and roughly pushes them down his thighs. Your eyes widen with hunger when you look down and behold the tight, darkened undershorts leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. It’s embarrassing, the way your mouth salivates all of a sudden, and you almost choke on your breath as soon as Obi-Wan slips two of his fingers beneath the elastic of the fabric and threatens to lower them as well. 

“But you-” the last, coherent bit of your brain attempts to remind the Master Jedi of his earlier conditions, but he shakes his head and removes his fingers from the edge of the undershorts. You sigh in relief, thankful that he remembered the orders he gave you before, but that sense of ease evaporates when you remove your eyes from his darkened orbs and watch as he touches himself through the wet material. You feel as if your mind is in the middle of a fiery storm, one that you had no means to escape, and the guilt from before rises again as it occurs to you that you may have accidentally forced him into such a state of arousal. You know he craves stimulation more than anything, and as much as you wished to be the one to please him, you didn’t want him to regret you at the end of the night. 

Obi-Wan must sense the turmoil overtaking your body because he stops his movement altogether and leans into your space, until the two of you are breathing the same air. 

“I care not for what I said before.” Gone is the crazed tone ordering you to unclothe him, and you flinch unintentionally when he grasps your cheeks in between his warm palms. He doesn’t move then, afraid that you would fear him, or think him capable of forcing you into an act you did not want to engage in with him. The latter thought is enough to force his heart to stabilize, but when he notices the way you continue to look into his eyes, and the raging tempest begging for every fiber of his being to unfold you, he understands why you shook from his touch. 

It was not out of fear of himself, but fear of what you would do if he didn’t think through this.

You wanted him, to an alarming point, because if he continued to speak of his desires for you, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from giving him whatever he wants. You would ignore the earlier agreement, and lay with him, thus potentially causing him to regret his actions once the two of you passed this lust-filled haze. 

With as much certainty as he can muster up, Obi-Wan speaks the next words against your lips, all the while praying to the maker that you believe the demand filling him completely, one that prayed your name until it became a sweet benediction.

“I yearn for your touch, my lady. Please.” 

The sentiment is laced with an overbearing sense of ache, one you need, more than anything, to itch until it either powers over you or dissipates into a soft, flickering flame. You cease to breathe at the whispered plea, and you discover that no verbal response you can offer will ever properly convey to him the craving hunger you feel for being the one he calls upon to soothe his lust. 

“In- in that case, allow me.” You don’t recognize your own voice, and Obi-Wan releases a sound that can only be described as an anticipated moan in the form of your name. You drift your hands across his thighs, purposely digging your nails into the tight material of his underpants so you can catch another unhinged response from him. He shivers at the stinging sensation, laying back against the sofa if only to keep whatever sliver of control still remained in his body. You bite the inside of your cheeks to feel grounded, and although you know he wants you to drag the article of clothing down his muscular thighs, you don’t do so yet, relishing in the heat radiating off of his form as you played with the elastic around his hips. 

He thrusts into the palms of your hands unintentionally, causing you to stifle a giggle as you slip your fingers beneath the top of fabric and move them back and forth. You don’t bother looking up at him, knowing that the growing fury in his dilated pupils may distract you from the task at hand. Taking in a deep breath, you lean down again and kiss the bit of skin just above his underpants, the dust of hair covering his navel tickling your lips deliciously and making you wish you could see the rest of his body without anything to hide him from you. You know you should stop teasing him, but the part of you that has dreamt of worshiping him forces you to part your mouth and lick across the edge of his underpants. You hear Obi-Wan growl in irritation, but you pay him no mind as you pepper wet kisses everywhere you can reach. 

When you’re satisfied with the state of near delirium you’ve put him under, you pinch the top of his underpants and pull them down slowly, moaning his name obscenely when his cock catches against the tight material and makes you tug on it harder until you can free him. You’ve pictured doing this more times than you can count, and in every single image engraved in your mind, you thought you would be patient and gentle, not wanting him to finish the fun too quickly. But as the thick, hard length of his dick is finally, finally, revealed to your hungry eyes, you can’t help the excitement that fills you, and you yank down his clothes aggressively until both his trousers and underpants are pooled around his ankles. 

It’s everything you have imagined him to be, but not quite. He was thick, and all you can imagine is how perfect he would feel as he stretched you out, mouth or cunt. The tip of his cock is a deeper, angry shade of red and your heart drops when you notice him glistening with pre-cum. And then there was the matter of his length. Maker, he had every right to walk around with such cocksure air around him. But it didn’t seem like it would be as uncomfortable as others you’ve had the misfortune of attending to. Jedi were dangerous with the weapons hanging from their belts, but the one beneath you now was menacing and he didn’t require the lightsaber to prove such a thing. He was, in every sense of the word, the most beautiful creation you’ve ever come across. 

And by the heavens, how you wished you could come across him as well. 

“Oh my stars, you- if I had known your cock would be as beautiful as the rest of you, Master Obi-Wan, I would have fallen to my knees the second I laid my eyes on you.” The remark is accompanied with a spike in your Force signature, one that tested Obi-Wan’s resolve until he snapped and reached for your hair. The only warning you have is the growl reverberating from his chest as he tugs on your hair and grabs his cock with the other hand. You silently plead for him to do something, anything, with you, and the look in your eyes must be all he needs to see because without wasting another second, Obi-Wan spits down on his cock and spreads the wetness across his dick. Your body shakes at the filthiness of his actions, only to have your mind stand with attention as soon as the Jedi Master calls your name. 

“Spit.” The order is music to your ears and you roll your tongue around your mouth quickly to give him what he wants. Looking back into his eyes, you make a show of spitting on the tip of his cock, where his hand continues to rub your mixed spit across the hard length of him. You had thought he would immediately push you down so he could fuck your face, but he does something more bold.

With a widening grin, Obi-Wan parts his thighs wider until you’re a hair-breadth away from his dick, and as soon as you part your lips for him, he takes the base of his cock and slams it three times across your face. He sees the second your lust-filled expression turns into one of shock, and he groans your name once before craning your neck back so he could reach the rest of your features more easily. It’s positively vulgar, the way in which he continues to slap your face with his thick cock, and he finds it rather beautiful that you are enjoying the explicit sounds he is repeatedly creating as the wetness glistening across his skin sticks to your cheeks and creates an almost invisible connection between his length and your lips.

You stick your tongue out to taste your combined spit as it smears across your lips, and Obi-Wan doesn’t waste another precious moment, instantly shoving the tip of his cock past your bruised lips until he feels your mouth engulf him completely. As much as he wants to push you down on his cock, he holds himself back and waits until he’s sure you’re ready for him. You widen your mouth and slide your hands from his thighs to the base of his length, holding him steady as you slowly take his cock down your throat. The Jedi Master must have not been prepared for your immediate response because his breath catches in his throat and he lets go of your hair altogether and fists his hands into the pillows around him. The moans escaping his throat are exceptionally filthy, and you grasp his hard length tightly in hopes of hearing more of his groans. 

“Ahhhh f-fuck, that’s it dear heart. Take my cock, take it in that cockdumb mouth of yours. Let me feel the heat of your throat.” He calls out for you, and you suddenly feel distracted when you shift your attention to his hands and watch as they slowly turn white from how harshly he’s grabbing onto the pillows and the sofa. The moment is gone soon after when you feel constrict your throat around him and he unintentionally bucks his hips into you, sending his dick even deeper into your mouth. The feeling of his velvety skin as it slides across your tongue should be illegal, and you shut your eyes to focus on not gagging around him, only fluttering the open when you hear him moan your name as your drool slides down his length and makes a mess of your hands. You caress him until he twitches in your mouth, once again finding it difficult to breathe when he accidentally pushes his cock down your throat again. 

When you can’t take it anymore, you regrettably remove him from your mouth, taking in a few deep breaths before leaning down and kissing the crown of his dick. You don’t look at him then, knowing you might get distracted if you were to see the look in his eyes as you kissed every inch of him. Only when his body shakes above you do you finally meet his gaze, not stopping once from mapping his length with kisses and licks until he showers you with more praises. 

“Lovely girl, you look so beautiful worshiping me.” Obi-Wan reaches down and touches your cheeks lightly. You stop what your ministrations then, finding the sentiment far sweeter than you think he intends it to be. You rest your cheek across one of his thighs, all the while stroking him until his length is covered in your spit. You bite your lip when he doesn’t remove his hand, winking once at him as you bring his cock to your mouth and kiss the slit smeared with pre-cum. It’s borderline disgusting, the way your mouth shines with evidence of his pleasure and your enthusiasm, but you find the heated look in his eyes worth the humiliation. 

“Want your mouth again, please.” He begs, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were thoroughly enjoying teasing him, you would have obeyed him and told him to fuck your throat. But you don’t, knowing that the pleasure he would feel once he finally takes charge of you again would be indescribable. Batting your eyelashes at him, you don’t pay him any mind and continue with the kitten licks across his cock, occasionally sucking on the protruding veins until he throws his head back and whispers your name.

“Come on, don’t- don’t be a tease.” His voice is nearly broken, driving you absolutely mad with lust. Again, you ignore his pleas, and allow more of your spit to cover his length. He huffs in irritation, and you smile to yourself as you lick along the side of his cock until you reach where your hands are holding him. Without a second thought, you lay the gentlest of kisses across his balls before licking at them harshly. Obi-Wan’s back arches off of the sofa, and he sits up in an instant, unable to look anywhere else but you, with your flushed lips and your wet tongue bringing him unimaginable pleasure. 

“Hmmphh, I- I won’t ask again.” The warning sends a shiver down your spine, yet you almost laugh when he stutters over his words as he attempts to convince you to take his cock into your mouth once more. You know you’re pushing your luck, but you can’t find it in yourself to care because of how absolutely turned on you are by the knowledge of having such an intense effect on him. It must be too much for Obi-Wan, however, because as soon as you rub the head of his cock with both of your thumbs, he growls your name and combs his fingers into your hair. 

“Fuck, that is quite enough.” The composed tone of his voice is terrifying, and you brace yourself in preparation for whatever he has planned for you. Obi-Wan slaps your hands away from him, taking his cock in his own hand instead and pulling you away when you try to take him in your mouth. He traces your lower lip with the tip of his dick, grinning at you when he moves you away as soon as you try to feel him against your tongue. He continues to taunt you with his length, tightening the hold he has on your hair when you try to force yourself on him. You’re not sure how long this goes on for, and you hate yourself for ever thinking it was a good idea to tease him. You pout at him when his smirk widens the longer he blocks your attempts of pleasuring him. Thinking you can tempt him with your hands, you reach out to grab him, only to feel an invisible force on your wrists before they’re slammed down against your thighs. 

“Tell me, tell me what you are and I may reward you with my cock again.” He smiles when he notices the lack of shock on your features, as if you were waiting for him to use the Force on you. He despises your reaction, but chooses to ignore his satisfaction over your expectation of him using his own religion against you, the need to illustrate to you how far gone he is outgrowing any sense of self-preservation. 

“Obi-” You moan his name, only for the man to cut you off with a harsh tug to your hair and another slap of his cock against your parted lips. 

“Fucking tell me,” he orders, one last time, praying to the maker that you put him out of his misery and give him what he wants. 

“I- I’m your filthy whore…I’m just your cockslut and I- I want you to choke me. Choke me with your hand or your cock…please, I want it. It makes me wet just to think of you fucking my face. Please Master, I- omphh.” At the sound of the honorific, Obi-Wan forgets the controlled manner he wished to maintain with you, throwing all caution aside as he tilts your head back and pushes his dick into your mouth until your nose is flush against his skin. He watches as you choke on his length, never once relenting on the pressure he has on your neck until you shut your eyes and moan around him. He pulls you off and releases the hold he has on your wrists, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other plays with your hair as you jerk him off and suck on the crown of his cock. 

“There we go, get me nice and wet for your throat, sweet one.” He breathes down at you, biting his cheek as you switch between sucking on him and taking him so far down your throat until he feels you swallow around him. The pressure of your mouth is a sensation he will likely not forget for a long time, and he dreads the emptiness he will surely experience when he leaves you tonight and returns to the Temple. He’s close to revealing his thoughts to you, but then you shut your eyes, and Obi-Wan suddenly feels a hint of that abyss. He lightly taps against your cheek with the palm of his hand, not hitting you, but just a gentle touch to get your attention.

“No, keep- keep those pretty eyes on me. I want you to look at me as I fuck your face, so you know not to tease me the next time..so you remember to whom you belong.” The words escape his mouth without thought, and he remembers then why he kept himself from such intimacy for most of his life.

“Darling girl, you look breathtaking with your mouth full of my cock.” Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sound of his praises, and you almost reach down to rub your clit, but remind yourself that this was never about your pleasure. So, you focus all of your energy on him, on stroking him firmly and slowly, from where your mouth is wrapped around him down to his balls. As you massage them in the palms of your hands, Obi-Wan can’t help but groan your name over and over again, finding it extremely difficult to maintain his gaze on you as you continue to show him how much you want him. 

“Oh gods, you are such a good girl for me. So perfect, so obedient…so fucking wet.” He pronounces every word with a hard thrust into your mouth, and you don’t dare move away from him then, knowing that he must be close if he was beginning to lose his control and fuck your face with little to no rhythm. 

“Look at you, you’re making such a mess of me. I- I…the sight of you will plague my dreams in the days to come sweetheart, but I- fuck…I do not care.” You maintain contact with his dazed orbs, finding him even more ethereal as he forgot himself in you. You breathe through your nose to the best of your abilities, laying your tongue flat beneath his cock and quickly jerking him off so he can release his seed into your mouth. You want nothing more than to taste him, roll your tongue around his cock as he comes down your throat and fills your mouth with his essence. But as you alternate between sucking him and widening your lips so he can take his pleasure from you, Obi-Wan throws his head back once and moans your name rather loudly before trying to pull you off of him. Thinking that he probably didn’t want to come down your throat, you tease him with your teeth a little and hollow your mouth around the tip of his cock, kneading the rest of him to ensure his satisfaction is not interrupted. 

“Fuck…ahh fucking hells, little one. I- I need you to stop. S-stop, please…now!” The desperation of his voice snaps you out of your haze, and you let go of him instantly, already feeling guilty for whatever you did that pushed him to beg you to stop. You lay your palms over his thighs, lightly caressing his skin to calm him down and show him that you didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. Obi-Wan stares down at you for a few seconds before resting his head against the back of the sofa, and you watch him closely as he rubs his face with both of his hands and sighs heavily into the damp air of the room. 

“Did…did I do something wrong?” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, and you’re shocked when Obi-Wan shakes his head almost instantly before looking down at you again.

“Heavens no, you- you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.” His breathing is erratic, and you swallow the lump in your throat when you notice how hard he still is as he twitches lightly in front of your face. 

“Then let me make you feel good, let me pleasure you until you come in my mouth. Please, Master Kenobi, I want to taste your pleasure.” You dare to reach for him again, grasping him in one palm as you massage his navel with the other. Obi-Wan doesn’t let you do much though, reaching for your hand soon after and politely asking you to stop moving. 

“As much as I want to fuck this pretty mouth until you make me come,” he traces your lips with his fingers, pushing two of them past your teeth so he can feel your tongue slide against him once last time, “I will not.” Obi-Wan removes his fingers from your mouth then, and lightly pulls your other hand off of him so he can lean forward and feel the heat of your breath against his cheeks. 

“P-please, I-” You attempt to ask him one last time, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else, slowly reaching for your neck and wrapping his hand around your throat so he can call your attention to what he truly wants. 

“If you want me to come undone at your touch, my sweet, then it will be inside that wet, tight cunt of yours.” Obi-Wan thought you would obey him in the blink of an eye, with how willing you were to do everything he asked of you thus far, but when you lose your smile and your expression turns serious, he lets go of your cheeks and takes your hands into his own instead. Neither of you say anything, and it takes him longer than necessary to realize that you were probably waiting for an explanation from him. 

“Forgive me, I presumed you wanted to-” He starts to say, but you cut him off soon after, shaking your head and intertwining your fingers with his own in an attempt to let him know that you desperately wanted to lay with him. 

“I do, maker knows I do. But-” He lets out a sigh of relief when he hears your affirmation, and although he knows he should let you finish your thought, he can’t help but interrupt you, wanting you to know that you were welcome to deny him this if you wanted. It would break his soul, that he is certain of, but like you, he couldn’t find it in himself to force you to do anything you didn’t truly desire. 

“But what, little one? Speak your mind truthfully, please. You have nothing to fear.” His tone is completely different from a moment ago, and your chest tightens when you realize he probably thought you didn’t want him anymore. Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to tell him your concerns, one last time, while silently praying that he disregards them again. 

“I don’t want you to think that you have to…this isn’t, I’d never want to force you to do anything.” You stutter through a response, unable to phrase your hopes and desires in a coherent manner for him. You thought he would either thank you for reminding him of those earlier boundaries and get dressed, or tell you that he was definitely sure of his desires to lay with you, but he surprises you, and does neither of those things. His jaws tense at your comment, and he brings you closer to him with newfound lust, making you regret your words.

“You think I am this hard and wanting because you forced me? You think my desperation to feel your cunt clench around me is nothing but a lie?” The questions are laced with lust-filled anger, causing you to flinch when he pulls your hand and forces you to grab his thick, hard cock. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, repeatedly moving it across his length until he can feel the warm palm of your hand rub him furiously. The Jedi doesn’t look elsewhere but your eyes, wanting you to understand that he was desiring the heat of your cunt out of necessity and not because you were forcing him. 

“Obi-Wan,” you lean into his space until your lips mold with his own in a dizzying kiss, all the while not stopping him from continuing to lead your hand across his achingly hard cock. But he breaks the kiss soon after, and you almost complain to him, but then he continues to tell you of his need to feel you engulf him, and you realize that you would much rather listen to his unhinged devotion.

“I have not felt such desire in so long, my lady…the mere sound of my name on your lips has awakened something in me that I daresay I thought would remain dormant for many years to come.” Obi-Wan confesses against your lips, nudging your nose with his own as he breathes the same air leaving your lungs. You shiver at the term of endearment, falling into him as he lays kisses across your cheek while you lazily stroke him.

“And y-you say that my tongue is a dangerous weapon…”

“Will you let me have you, dear heart? Please, let me sink my cock into your pussy. Let me look upon you as you fall apart for me, let me- let me hear my name on your sweet lips as I make you come on my cock, as I fill you with my seed, as you beg me to mark you with my cum.” It’s almost as if those flooding words were waiting for this moment to stream so easily from his lips, and you don’t dare deny him any further, laying one last kiss on his reddened lips before moving to the floor and parting your legs for him. You arch your back as the cold tiles of the ground seeps through your skin, and you do your best to ignore the discomfort of the harsh surface as you bite your lower lip while trailing your fingers down your chest to your clothed slit.  

“Please, Obi…fuck me. Make me come on your thick cock, u-until I mark you as well. I want you to walk out of here with my cum on your robes, so everyone knows who made you feel good. So you- so you can come back to me again and fuck me all night long.” You know better than to ask him for anything beyond this night, and you shamelessly push your panties to the side, spreading the wetness across your slit when you notice Obi-Wan’s unfaltering gaze zeroing in on your core. You sigh heavily as you rub your clit in slow circles before pushing in the tips of your fingers past your folds and into your aching cunt. The Jedi Master isn’t bothered to hide his lust from you, and you smile to yourself when you see him reach for his cock and palm it lazily as he descends onto the floor near you. He doesn’t come closer though, and you push your fingers deeper into your pussy in an attempt to provoke him to do something, anything, besides staring at you as you touch yourself. He’s clearly having a difficult time breathing normally, the rough, shallow breaths filling the otherwise silent air turning you on more than they should. You stop your ministrations and tilt your head to the side, silently asking him what he wants from you. He notices you staring at him and manages to look away from the slick wetting your thighs, narrowing his eyes at you as he moves forward until he’s kneeling in between your thighs.

“Is that what you want, my darling?” It’s almost as if his question is calculated, and you can’t help but notice the hope laced within the question as he reaches down and caresses the length of your leg with two of his fingers. “You want me to return in between your thighs once more, fill you with my cock until your pussy knows my touch?” His voice is captivating, like a rope of fire gently slithering around your frame and forcing you to focus on him, and him only. “Till you memorize the thickness claiming you and refuse to come unless I am fucking you?” You barely manage to nod, eyes moving towards the soft skin gliding along your legs to your knees. His fingers stop there, and you wish he can forgo whatever this teasing foreplay that’s clearly so enjoyable to him. “Tell me, tell me and I promise to make you feel good.” Obi-Wan promises one last time, and you shiver at the sensation of his hands as they massage your outer thighs just as he leans down to your body. Thinking he was going to take you now, you don’t bother responding to him, throwing your head back and blindly reaching for the beige robes still hiding his upper body from your eyes. But a quick slap to your already heated skin snaps you out of your haze, and you look up in time to watch the man descend upon you with a hunger unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He takes both of your wrists in his hands and slams them above your head, bringing his body flush against your own until the only thing you can feel is him. 

“Tell. Me.”

“Yes Master, I want you to take me now…and tomorrow…and the day after.” You blurt out whatever comes to mind, and it must be satisfying for him because the mischievous smile that spreads across his features pulls you deeper into him, making you wish you were the only one worthy of his attention. You reach up and graze his lips with your own, and if Obi-Wan wasn’t hellbent on pushing the two of you past unseen pleasures, he would have quieted you with his tongue and stretched you on his cock in an instant. But he wanted more, and he knew you would appreciate the fulfillment more so if he stretched this out just a little longer. 

“Keep- oh kriff, keep talking.” Obi-Wan breathes against your cheeks as he looks down in between the two of you. Against his will, he shuts his eyes to focus whatever coherent energy left within him on your heated core. His muscles are buzzing with energy, but he pays his own needs no mind as he grips your wrists tightly to prevent you from writhing beneath him. As soon as he moves aside your panties, the words on your lips gush without any coherence, and he huffs out a little chuckle as he begins to pass an invisible sensation against your engorged clit. 

“I want you to- to claim me every night, again and again and again, until I can’t come without your cock. Please, fuck me Obi, make me feel good, make me see the stars in your eyes. I- ahhhhh…”

Obi-Wan knows better than to use the Force for such blasphemous devotions, but it occurs to him, in the midst of this mind-altering interaction, that he would be committing the ultimate sin if he held back from worshiping you with everything that he’s got, everything that he is. Was it not the Force that called for him to become one with all that is around him? Was it not this mystical energy that reached for him so he can experience the most heartfelt moments with an elated, undistracted mind? Was it not this spirit of the universe that guided him every second of his life, so he can feel the intensity of such valuable experiences with an ecstasy unrepressed by the noise around him? He questions himself, and finds the answers rather easily, awfully quicker than many other inquiries he met in the past decades. And with each response ringing across his mind, Obi-Wan imagines the softness of your slit beneath his fingers, as clear as day, alternating between moving the hidden energy across your clit and into your cunt. He nearly overstimulates himself from how focused he becomes into coaxing your essence out to flood his Force signature. The harder he pushes you towards that zenith of bliss, the more his cock twitches against your inner thighs, begging to be engulfed within your walls, or at the very least, for some release from the torment he was bestowing upon the two of you.

Obi-Wan sobs against your neck, the euphoria within his heart threatening to engulf him completely the longer he continues to assault your bundle of nerves. Only when you cry his name repeatedly does he open his eyes and look down to see why you’re suddenly begging him to stop. 

Force help him.

Were it not for the distracting sight of his cock soaked with your cum and perfectly framed by your shaking thighs, Obi-Wan is sure he would have continued to stroke your pussy until you passed out. He loosens the hold he has on your wrists, but doesn’t dare look anywhere else, momentarily forgetting how to breathe when he sees the puddle beneath you. Without thinking much of what he’s doing, he lets go of one of your hands and brings his fingers to your inner thighs, passing over the quivering muscles lightly, only to pull away when he sees you flinch at his touch.

“Obi-Wan,” you sigh his name as you finally catch your breath, the sound of your wrecked voice snapping the Jedi’s attention to your face once more. “I need you.”

Those three words halt whatever apology forming on his lips, and you watch as he swallows thickly before nodding at you. Neither of you address what he’s just done, and even though you want nothing more than to ask him if he meant to use the Force on you in such an intimate manner, you opt to say anything. Obi-Wan moves his hand from your thighs to his cock, and you furrow your eyebrows when you see him stroking himself and spreading your cum across the length of his dick, from his balls to his tip. It’s filthy, the way he rubs himself against your wet folds to coat himself with your essence, but you don’t mind it one bit. Although you want to grab onto him as he finally, finally, slides into your heat, you don’t dare move your hands from where he left them, not wanting to give him a reason to stretch this out any longer. 

You thought he would continue to look down where the two of you would soon join, but Obi-Wan returns his eyes to your features, looking straight into your own dazed pupils as he brings himself closer to you. Pushing your leg with his thigh, he brings his index finger against your slit, rubbing you tenderly until you sigh his name with a whisper. He leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth as he gently moves into you. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, and you arch your back against him as the head of his cock stretches you out. It’s everything you’ve imagined—the thickness of his length, the pulsating ridges along his cock, the hard and hot feeling of him as he fills you up—but somehow so much better. You lean into his mouth, breathing heavily against his skin the deeper he pushes into your pussy. You can feel him shaking above you, and you’re suddenly filled with an unbearable sense of satisfaction at the prospect of having an effect on him similar to the one he has on you. 

He stops all of a sudden, and you try to wiggle closer to him, force more of his thick cock to fill you sweetly, but his hand shoots to your waist and holds you against the ground, preventing you from moving altogether. 

“Ohhh ff-ffuck, you- you are heavenly, sweet one. And you are so kriffing tight.” Obi-Wan groans against your neck, finding it extremely difficult to not thrust into you harshly now that he finally had you where he wanted. He remembers how sensitive you might be, especially after what he’s pulled moments ago, and he bites your shoulder to feel grounded, the action pulling a lewd moan from your lips that almost makes him break. He licks the reddening flesh to soothe the pain, his mind reeling at the prospect of leaving such a visible mark on you. 

Only when he believes he has a good grip on his urges does he push his cock deeper into your cunt, pulling his head back a little to watch your features as they contort in pleasure. 

“Go on, take me deeper inside your cunt. Take me deeper so I can mark your womb with my seed.” He growls his desires, watching as your chest rises and falls with harsh breaths the more he moves into you. You barely manage to open your eyes and look at him, and were it not for the fact that you were struggling to adjust to his size, you would have told him how beautiful he looked, with his focused eyebrows and his bruised lips and the sweat forming against his forehead that made his hair stick to his skin and fall on his eyes. 

Maker in heaven, he was ecstasy itself. 

“Obi- you…you’re so thick. I- I need to…” Your words make him swear beneath his breath, and whatever coherence left in your mind jots that little detail down for later. It shouldn’t surprise you that he loves being praised, especially when the compliment addressed his impressive size, and you try to relax for him, wanting to show him how good you can be for him in return. 

“Be a good girl and take the rest of me in that pretty little pussy. You have done beautifully for me, my lady…you can take more. I know you can.” He coos against your damp skin, leaving kisses across your forehead and cheeks before he silences your moans with his lips. 

“Obi, oh-” you gasp into the kiss, and Obi-Wan sneaks his tongue into your mouth instantly, the action sending you into a frenzy and making you reach for his hair. He nearly lets go of your hips to force your hand above your head again, but he doesn’t drag your touch away, knowing that it would be better for you to become distracted so you can let loose a bit. Your fingers get lost in his soft locks, and he deepens the kiss when you tug on his hair and scratch the nape of his neck with your nails. The harder you pull on his hair, the louder his moans become, and Obi-Wan finds that he rather enjoys it when you are as rough with him as he is with you. He breaks the kiss for a moment, the need to tell you how exquisite you feel around him outgrowing everything else. 

“I can almost feel the beat of your heart, little angel. Can feel it beating as your cunt clenches around me.” He smirks down at you, finding the lost gaze in your eyes so intimate to the point where he leans down and kisses each of them, if only to try and feel whatever it is your aura was conveying to him. He’s been trying his best to focus on anything but your fluttering walls as they welcome more of him inside you, but the second he takes your lips against his own once more, he can’t help but move all of his attention to your cunt. “Be a good girl and t-take the rest of me. Your pussy is gushing for me sweetheart, it’s recognizing my touch and I am yet to give you all of me.” Under normal circumstances, the Jedi Master would blush at the shameless desires leaving his tongue, but he finds that he doesn’t care at the moment, not when your cunt felt like a tight, wet glove as it pulled more of him inside. He never thought this act could be so mind-bendingly sublime, but as he feels the fluttering corners of your heated core plead for him to deepen the connection, Obi-Wan is sure he will never, ever, get enough of you. He brings himself a little closer to you, until your legs give out and wrap around his hips in an attempt to bring him as flush to you as possible. 

“Please, Obi-Wan…just- do it now. Take me now, and don’t be gentle.” You beg, one last time, your words washing over him like a sweet benediction. It is as if your request goes right through him, clutching his heart tightly until he does nothing except obey you. 

“A-are you sure?” Even though he already knows your answer, he asks again, if only to ensure that you were as undeniably gone in him as he was in you. His voice is shaking, nearly as distracted as his breath, and you reach out to hover your lips over his own, to breathe in his hidden desires until they intermingle with your own. 

“Please…fuck me.” 

The sentiment clouds over the two of you like a lust-filled tempest, one that has been waiting for the right moment to unleash its brazen fires over your coalesced, wanton forms. 

“With pleasure,” Master Kenobi growls in response, no longer caring for making this last as he thrusts his cock into your heat, until he hits a deep corner within your walls that forces stars across your eyesight. 

“Gaahh-” you throw your head back and cry out as soon as you feel his fat, hard dick fill you to the brim. He nuzzles into your cheeks, breathing heavily against your skin until you can only hear the air parting from his mouth. He moves his palm from around your wrist to your hand, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing them tightly as he expertly ground the base of his cock against your core. 

“Ahhhh s-sweet one,” it’s his turn to sob in ecstasy when he feels your pussy tighten around him the harder he pushes into you. Whatever control left in his body evaporates, and he drags his length out of your clenching walls before driving back into you again, sending another scream of pleasure from your mouth against his cheek.

“O-Obi, you feel so good.” You barely manage to say as he sets a rough pace, pushing and pulling his cock deep within your cunt until the only sensation you could focus on was the delicious drag of the protruding veins along his dick against your sensitive cunt.

“As do you, oh fuck…as do you, my darling girl.” Obi-Wan confesses, finally managing to push himself up far enough to look down at you. He finds your eyes instantly, the fire simmering behind them surely mirrored in his own. He can’t help himself, moaning your name like a prayer when you tug on his hair and bring him back to you again. You want to feel as much of his body against you as possible, the sentiment completely understandable to the Jedi Master since his own Force signature screamed to dance and blend with your own. He feels his mind give away to overstimulation again, and he fears that the spirit within him may get too accustomed to having your aura call and lure him in with its passionate and raging arousal. 

His pace falters briefly, and Obi-Wan realizes it is possibly because he’s beginning to give himself completely over to your presence. In an attempt to distract himself, and against his better judgment, he breaks the kiss and pulls back completely, letting go of you and forcing you to remove your fingers from his hair. You try to reach out for him to bring him back to you but Obi-Wan nods at your hands until they are slammed above your head yet again. You gasp at the sudden action, knowing that you will never quite get used to the feeling of having him restrain you with the energy of the universe. Slipping two of his fingers beneath the fabric of your panties, Obi-Wan tugs on it harshly until it rips from your body, the violent behavior sending a fresh wave of arousal across your body and making you clench tightly around him. He sighs and shuts his eyes briefly, wanting to commit this moment to memory. When he thinks he has a grip on himself, he opens his eyes and looks straight into yours as he brings the torn fabric of your panties to his nose, breathing in deeply until your scent fills his senses before shoving it into the pocket of his robes. You move your hips in tandem with his own, biting painfully into your lower lip when you feel his hands grab your hips tightly and pull you back against his cock until you feel bolts of lightning trail up your spine. 

“Look down, look down and see where we are one.” Obi-Wan demands, picking up the pace when you moan his name as you obey him and look down to where you are joined. The sight of his hard cock as it disappears into your cunt almost throws you over the edge, and you don’t dare shift your attention elsewhere, wanting to relish in the feeling of being stretched over his dick over and over again the harder he drives into you. “Oh maker in heavens, you are positively sinful.” You hear him swear as he continues his assault on your core, the sound of his skin slapping against yours suddenly making you shy. While a part of you hopes that the guard waiting outside of your door left, you pray that he was still there, wanting someone to know how good Obi-Wan was fucking you, and how obedient you were for him. 

“Please,” you can’t bring yourself to say anything else, your throat hoarse from overuse and the repeated sobs you let out the more unwavering his brutal thrusts became. 

“Use your words, my sweet. Tell me what you desire.” Unlike you, Obi-Wan can still form proper sentences, something that makes you quite jealous considering the mess he is making of you. You clench and unclench your fists, thankful that the hold he applied on your wrists was giving you all the necessary pressure you needed to bring your body against as he slid his fat cock against the quivering walls of your pussy. 

“Your…hands. I want your hands to- to…” He distracts you with a dangerous grin, settling himself deep inside you without moving a muscle, until you could feel him twitch against that spongy, innermost corner of your cunt. Obi-Wan grinds against you, sending you into a frenzy when you feel your clit throb with need the more he teases you, the coarse hair at the base of his cock making it more difficult to not scream for him to just use you. 

“Tell me.” He warns, lifting you up until your thighs rest on top of his own. Your lower back erupts with goosebumps when he grabs your waist tightly and slowly moves you around in small circles, so his cock marks every inch of you he can touch. 

“Here, please.” You can’t move your hands so you do your best to mime where you need to feel him still, eyes nodding down before you decide to extend your neck as far back as possible until he gets the hint. You think he’ll jump at the chance, but when he halts his movement, you realize the request might be too far for him. He lets go of you then, roaming his hands across the length of your form, not caring for how shameless his touch appears as he cups your breasts and pinches your nipples. They pebble beneath the palm of his hand, and your lungs threaten to erupt when he flicks each peak with his thumb before sliding one hand past your sternum, to the base of your neck. 

“Little angel, I-” he doesn’t move again, and you think your heart might just stop then and there when you notice the tender look in his eyes. Gods, after all of this, he was still being so respectful to you. 

“Oh my maker, I’m already so close Master. I just want you to keep touching me, wrap your hand around me. I want you to, I- I need you to.” You’re not sure of what you’re saying at this point. All you know is you want Obi-Wan to take full control of you, have you submit to him completely until you can no longer recognize where you ended and he began. Thinking he’ll now use this against you, you arch your back and try to move beneath him. But as Master Kenobi proved throughout the night, he was much quicker than you, and without missing a beat, he returns one of his hands to your waist to prevent you from moving without his permission again, the other instantly wrapping around your throat and applying pressure that sends you into the next galaxy.

“Filthy little whore, craving such violent needs.”

He groans as he clenches his jaw tightly and snaps his hips against you, sending your body off of the ground before it falls back against him. The force of his thrusts, combined with the tightening hold he has on your jugular and the filthy words leaving his lips, coaxes pleasure out of you that you have not experienced in decades. 

“Master, I- I can feel you so deep inside me.” You tell him as you look into his eyes, needing him to feel a sliver of the pleasure he was bringing onto your body. Obi-Wan stutters for a moment, the praising comment wrapping around him like a warm coat, threatening to send him into another dangerous frenzy. 

“Feel me, darling. Feel me as I mark you with my cock. Here,” before you can ask him to release you, Obi-Wan moves one of your hands to your lower stomach, pushing your palm down on your navel with the Force while he continues to drag his achingly hard cock in and out of you. 

“Oh gods,” you scream as you vaguely feel his length slide against your tight walls, a sudden spike in your ecstasy letting you know that Obi-Wan was responsible for the flood of sensations now coursing through your veins. He doesn’t slow down, nor does he remove the invisible hold he has on your hand, waiting until you were only experiencing him before dragging your attention back to his eyes again. 

“There we go, that’s it love. You feel that?” 

“I- I’m…” You meet his eyes and feel your soul fall into the ocean of blues now vibrant and visible around his pupils. The rest of the sentence falls away, and you barely manage to breathe as Master Kenobi fills you repeatedly, ensuring that your cunt now recognizes the stretch of his hard, thick dick. You’re on the verge of coming, and you get the sense that Obi-Wan was near ecstasy as well. For a moment though, you notice that Obi-Wan isn’t quite looking into your eyes, but through you. 

You want to ask him what he can see, but you choose to prioritize your rapture, chasing it with need in hopes of granting him his own as soon as he feels you come on his cock. You don’t look anywhere else though, the sight of his hair sticking to his face and nearly hiding his eyes from your gaze forcing a string of expletives to leave your tongue. The man somehow managed to look gorgeous in the throws of passion, and you make sure to remember to tell him later that you never thought you would ever see someone look so alluring and provocative yet handsome and graceful as they fucked you within an inch of your life.

Like you, Obi-Wan can almost taste the rhapsody of his body, and he yearns to fall over the edge along with you. But as he takes in your form, so beautiful and wrecked, he can’t help but reach out to your Force signature one last time, wanting to memorize its fiery nature one last time before he completely loses himself to the heat of your cunt as it flutters around him. He inhales deeply, focusing as much of his energy on you as possible, and as he allows his eyes to roam over your shaking body, he finally tunes into the bright, red aura branching away from your entwined bodies and across the dimly-lit room. 

Never has Obi-Wan seen such beauty before, the dancing rays of intense red beams filling his mind’s eye with such elation that he can’t bring himself to think of anything else but how incomparable you are to everything that exists in this galaxy, almost as exceptional as the Force itself.

The last thought should scare him, but as he lets go and allows your Force signature to take over his, Obi-Wan comes to one conclusion, the idea of which makes him smile down at you as he presses impossibly deeper into your pussy. 

Perhaps red is all I ever needed to touch after all. 

As he accepts the reality of this silent revelation, he can no longer hold back from telling you how beautiful you are. 

“Feel me, little one. Feel me as I fuck your tight cunt…feel me as I brand your body. Stars, I- I wish you could see yourself the way I do, dear heart. You are radiant…your Force signature is- never have I seen such a bright and pure energy. Oh fuck, I must have you again, I must.” It is unlike him to whisper such vulgar words out loud, but Obi-Wan wants you to know that having you once will not suffice. He hopes you understand that he may be referring to an intimacy beyond this act, but he files that need for later, when he is less terrified of the effect you have on him. He fucks you without abandon, the hold he has on your neck tightening even further when he looks down and watches as you slide your hand up his chest to his neck. You cup his cheek in your palm, willing him to look into your eyes as you give yourself to the pleasure. 

“Obi-Wan, don’t stop. I- I want to come on your cock, I want to feel you come inside me…come with me. Fill me with your seed, Master.” You throw your needs into his hand, knowing that the two of you only need the other to reach pleasure so you can fall into your own. When his chest rises and falls erratically, you dig your heels into the back of his thighs as hard as your muscles will allow, wanting him to fill you with his cock until you can feel nothing but him.

“S-sweetheart, I- I can’t last much longer.” Obi-Wan’s voice breaks, and he falls over you when he feels your thumb trace his lower lip lovingly. He rests his forehead against your own as his rhythm falters, but he ensures to not loosen the grip he has on your neck, not wanting to take away any touch that aids in bringing you pleasure. 

“Then come with me Obi, come for me.”

“I’m- stars…I- please, my lady, fall apart with me. Come undone on my cock, I’m right there…r-right- ahhhh,” the words die in his throat as he feels the blazing fire of your Force signature strike through him, sending him over the edge along with you so instantly that he forgets how to breathe for a moment. He grinds into you, his cock pulsating harshly against your own fluttering walls as long, hot spurts of his seed shoot deep into your womb. Obi-Wan shuts his eyes as he hovers his lips over your own, breathing in the air leaving your mouth as your body shakes violently beneath him. He can’t feel anything else except the heat of your pussy as you clenched tightly around him and milked every last drop of his cum deep into your cunt. 

As his hips stutter, you reach up and mold your lips with his own in a chaste kiss, moaning against him when he unintentionally bucks a little too harshly into you and forces you to squeeze around him in your post-orgasmic haze. Obi-Wan groans in return, loosening the grip he has on your neck and moving his hand to the ground so he doesn’t crush you with the weight of his body. He explores your mouth with his tongue, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible before he pulls out of you. As you move your arms around his neck, Obi-Wan can’t help but smile against the touch of your lips, finding your need to feel as much of him as possible heartwarming. He leans into you a little but makes sure to keep his weight off of you, only wincing lightly when the gentle movement makes him grind against your mound and forces you to break the kiss. 

“Little one, are you alright? Have I hurt you in any way?” His voice hovers over the skin of your forehead, smoothing away any doubts beginning to form in your mind now that the two of you were not completely distracted by the touch of the other. You hum contently, nuzzling deeper into his neck as you throw your leg over him and shift closer to his body. A shiver courses across your skin, and you fist your hands into the robes still shielding him from your eyes as soon as you feel your combined juices trickling down your thighs. You flush with heat at the prospect of going back to your home with evidence of this man’s pleasure deep inside your pussy. It’s only when he lays a kiss on your temple repeatedly that you remember the question he asked you not a moment ago.  

“Only in a good way, Master Jedi.” You move your hand up his chest until you feel the skin of his neck beneath your palm, and before you can bring it elsewhere, Obi-Wan clasps your hand in his own and pulls it to his mouth. Your eyes flutter open just in time to watch him as he rests his lips right above your wrist and kisses it, gently placing the palm of your hand on his cheek before looking down to meet your eyes. There’s something rather intimate about the Master Jedi allowing you to touch his beard, the gesture oddly more personal than anything else you’ve done thus far. 

“No, don’t…please, call me Obi-Wan.” He furrows his eyebrows, the pout forming on his bruised lips distracting you briefly before your mind catches up with what he just said. You blink at him as the teasing grin growing on your expression sends a blush across his face. He swallows the knot in his throat, avoiding your gaze for a few seconds before returning to meet your eyes again. You think he’ll return the smile but when he stares at you with that same, slightly concerned look, you decide it best not to tease him any further. The man has done more with you than he initially wanted so he must have been reconsidering much while he remained in your arms. The least you could do was ease away whatever thoughts were beginning to storm his mind regarding you, and the compromising interaction he’s carried on with you throughout the night. 

“Okay…have I hurt you anywhere Obi-Wan?” You trace invisible circles across his beard, wishing the two of you were anywhere else but here. Even though you know he didn’t spend time with you in return for the information you offered him, you still can’t help but feel that this space was overbearing, or at least, subconsciously making you think of your line of work and his ‘beliefs.’

“Yes.”

The second you hear his response, you sit up and begin to study his body, your hands going from his neck to his arms, down to his stomach and lower where you think you may have somehow left a mark.

“Maker, where have I- oh gods, I didn’t think that-” Your mind is racing with ways you could have made tonight less hurtful to him, but before the waves of anxiety overtake you completely, Obi-wan is sitting up and cupping both of your cheeks in his hands. He rests his back against the edge of the couch, not bothering to ask if it’s alright with you as he pulls you into his arms and brings you across his lap. 

“Breathe, dearest. Breathe.” He sighs sweetly, resting his forehead against your own and increasing the volume of his breathing so you can mirror his actions and calm your elevated heart rate. As you inhale and exhale along with him, Obi-Wan lowers one of his hands to your chest, urging you to do the same thing so you can feel his heart through his clothes. Only then does he notice your breathing stabilize, and he dares to open his eyes and look upon you, hoping that his answer is enough to set your mind completely at ease. 

“You have hurt me by giving me that which, I now know, I cannot part from.”

The words fall from his lips like the sweetest wine, one that washes over you with an ease you’ve never felt before. The desirable effect slowly flows through your mind, and Obi-Wan pulls back further to meet your gaze so you can see for yourself that he was not lying to calm you, but whispering a confession he was afraid would make this complicated. 

“Obi…” You whine his name as you lean into him and mold your lips with his own. It’s a chaste kiss, one that neither of you have experienced in a long time, and the Jedi beneath you sighs deeply into the faint touch as he brings his arms around you to bring you as close to him as possible. When you break apart, you leave a trail of kisses across his face, praying to the maker that the man beneath you understands what it was you were trying to convey to him now. 

“You have ruined me, love. In the best way possible.” He says as he drags his hands across your neck and tugs you into his chest, until the only thing filling his senses is your Force signature singing to him, for him. It has been past the hour he’s originally offered when the two of you agreed to whatever this is, but neither of you dare to move or break the moment, afraid the other suddenly remembers propriety and ends this. 

Obi-Wan takes advantage of having you in his arms without anything to distract him, rubbing his hands up and down your back until your body sags against him. He dares to rest his cheek against the top of your head, the action making you fist your hands into his robes even tighter, as if you were afraid he was going to leave you now. He has to report back to the Council, perhaps even run over some plans with Anakin, but he can’t find it in himself to move just yet, wanting to relish every moment he gets to be in your presence. When he shifts to accommodate you better, you wince and push off of him, eyes attending to the wet fabric of his pants and shirt.

“Your clothes-” you frown when you realize you made a much bigger mess of him than you initially thought, but Obi-Wan shakes his head and takes hold of your chin, bringing your attention back on him as he smiles at you. 

“Should not be a concern to you,” he finishes your thought, his fingers combing your hair away from your face so he can take a better look at you. Under normal circumstances, you’d laugh at the change in sentiment or perhaps joke about his lack of concern for his attire when he made a great deal of it a while ago. But you got the feeling that it wouldn’t be right if you were to treat him like any other customer. As far as you were concerned, he stopped being one a little over an hour ago. 

“I have never met another like you.” Obi-Wan says as he trails his fingers down your arms and brings both of your hands to his lips, kissing each palm as gently as possible before placing your hands on his chest again. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he enjoyed it when you rested your hands on chest, and the thought of knowing that he didn’t mind you feeling his heart as he remained in your presence sends a new shiver down your spine. 

Maker, you hoped you weren’t reading into this. 

The prospect of feeling more for him than he was for you halts whatever train of thoughts swirling in your mind, and you decide to derail whatever conversation he’s trying to start instead of building on the intimacy of the space. 

“Flattery will not gain you another hour, dear heart.” You throw his words back at him, hoping that he understands why you are so reluctant to reveal your heart’s desires to him the way he was so easily confessing his own to you. 

“I need only look at your beautiful eyes to feel satisfied for the rest of my days.” He pushes yet again, and your heart skips a beat when you feel his thumb slowly trace the top of your lips before cupping your neck and forcing your eyes to stare into his own. Gone is the cocksure smile he was gracing you with a while ago, replaced with stern yet gentle furrowed eyebrows as he continued to memorize every inch of you. 

“You- you really do have a way with words.” You chuckle nervously when you notice the needy expression remain on his handsome features, and before either of you know what you’re doing, you’re closing the gap in between the two of you once more. Obi-Wan wants to taste your lips again, but he knows that should he go down that path now, neither of you will be leaving this room any time soon. Instead, he lays the most gentle of touches atop each of your eyes, until your Force signature becomes nothing more than a dancing flame around his own, subdued aura. 

Whatever exploration both of you wished to carry out before things escalated suddenly unfolds now, with Obi-Wan tracing faded scars and tattoos littered across your body while you caressed any bit of skin visible to your eyes. He leaned away from you when you got to certain parts of his neck and you almost lost it at the fact that the Jedi Master beneath you was ticklish. It’s only when you meet his cerulean orbs again that you remember something you should have told him before you grew heated and out-of-control. 

“I know this isn’t exactly romantic but…well, I just wanted you to know that I am clean, and I haven’t, you know…I never sleep with anyone without precautions.” Had you not been of sound-mind, you could have sworn you said something offensive or inappropriate because the look he returns is one of anger and guilt, and you retract your hands from him instantly, not wanting to worsen whatever feelings currently brewing inside him. But Obi-Wan doesn’t let you back away from him completely, reaching out for both of your wrists and bringing you back against his chest rougher than you anticipated. You fall against him but never break your gaze, afraid that you might miss anything if you were to look away from him. 

“My lady, I- forgive me. Please, forgive me. I was so lost in you I never-” It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to frantically part with apologetic words, and you feel guilt eat away at your heart when you see the anxiety welling up in his own threaten to send him into unnecessary panic. He’s tripping over his words, his hands clasping your own tightly, as if he was afraid you’d run away from him. You shake your head at him, but the Jedi throws his head down and whispers harsh words to himself. You can’t help but feel for him, and you mentally slap yourself for not wording the comment better so he doesn’t misunderstand you. When he continues to berate himself, you shake his hands away from you and frame his bearded jaws beneath your fingers, forcing him to look at you once more so he can see that you weren’t lying when you told him everything was alright. His face is flushed, and you hate that it’s not because of your compromising position but due his overthinking mind.  

“Relax Obi, I wasn’t saying that to make you feel bad. I just wanted to tell you because I- I wouldn’t have slept with you if I wasn’t sure I am clean. I would never do that to anyone, but you…you’re special, and I wouldn’t dream of taking such a chance. That’s all I wanted to tell you, that I’m clean I mean. Nothing more, I promise.” You look into each eye back and forth, needing to be certain that he fully understood there were no implications behind your comment. But more so, you wanted him to know that he was not like the others, but something more. At least you hoped he could become something more. 

Silence follows your calming assurances, and you find yourself able to melt into him again when his shoulders visibly relax and you feel his features contort into a less anxious expression. He nods twice at you before slowly bringing his hands back around your waist again. He squeezes you, silently urging you to wrap your arms around him so he doesn’t think he’s forcing you to be near him. You shut your eyes as you rest your entire body against his chest, the soft material of his Jedi robes a soothing presence against your heated skin. 

“So am I, but you probably know that already.” He breathes into the silent air a while later, making you smile against him before continuing to tug and scratch the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I am no Jedi…How would I know that?” You hope the joke makes him less likely to tense beneath you throughout the rest of the night but it holds the opposite effect on him. His hands stop moving again and you pull away far enough to take a good look at his face. You find him blushing a deep shade of red like before, except this time, there is a shadow of a less-than-sure smile threatening to break across his otherwise serene expression. 

“Well, as you now understand, it- it does not come easily to me to share this part of myself with anyone.” Obi-Wan parts with the revelation as if it isn’t the most personal truth he will ever confess about himself. You know it shouldn’t be shocking that the man in front of you now doesn’t sleep with just about anyone, but it’s still a surprise, especially since he looked the way he did. 

“You- you mean you…”

“It has been long since I have lain with another.” Obi-Wan admits rather proudly, and you bite into your lower lip when you feel his fingers caress the side of your jaw. Unlike the beginning of the night, when you were quite uncomfortable with the exceptionally profound effect the man had on you, you lean into that restless feeling now, knowing that you can trust him with more than your body.

“Oh Obi-Wan,” you lean into the touch, tilting your head to the side to kiss his thumb as it passes over your lower lip. 

“It seems you and I parted with important parts of ourselves tonight.” The sincerity behind your words touches Obi-Wan’s heart more intimately than he wants to admit, and he brings you closer into him, if only to try and touch the heated fire threatening to overtake his Force signature. 

“Indeed we have.” He accepts the statement with more ease than he thought possible for someone such as himself, the idea of sharing similar moments with you in the future not making him apprehensive. 

“And do you…regret any of it?” You inquire, no longer afraid of whether he’ll think you’re mad for holding such affections towards him. 

“Not one moment. Do you?” 

“Yes,” you respond sternly, barely managing to hold back your laughter when you notice the adorable pout suddenly aimed at you. 

“I regret not taking you to one of our better rooms. You would have felt much more comfortable there.” You nod at your surroundings, giggling like a little girl when Obi-Wan pinches you playfully and laughs at your mischievousness. 

“If you must know, I do not care for such things, sweet one.” He narrows his eyes at you, but chuckles along as your spiritedness flickers joy deep within his soul. 

“Oh yeah, and what do you care about Master Jedi?” You smirk at him, leaning down and mapping his neck with as many kisses as he will allow you before he pushes you away from him. 

“Your comfort,” Obi-wan moans, throwing his head back in pleasure when you nip and tug at the skin of his jugular, “…and p-pleasure of course.” He barely manages to finish, already feeling the sweet sensation of your lips shooting southward. Obi-Wan knows he shouldn’t allow you to leave such visible markings across his skin but he finds that he doesn’t care much about anyone seeing evidence of your approval of him, especially when it would only remind him of the time he spent with you tonight. 

“Consider the job done.” You hum in approval, licking the bruising marks slowly beginning to show across his beautiful, taut skin. 

“Any requests for the next time? A blue room, nicer surfaces, heavier drinks?” The suggestions are meant to be humorous, but as everything else, Obi-Wan takes them rather seriously and he slithers his hands up your arms to grasp your shoulders. He ends up pushing you away after all, but when you do finally meet his eyes, they’re more serious than an hour ago when he was inquiring after your customer. 

“If you are not otherwise engaged, I would much rather accompany you to your home than remain here.” Obi-Wan means to ask if it’s possible that he leave with you rather than invite himself over to your place, and he prays to the maker that you find it in your heart to allow him to get to know you better outside of this space. He wants to ensure that whatever passes between the two of you is of your own volition and interest rather than a continuation of what is required of you when you’re in the confines of this establishment. 

“And what makes you think I’ll invite you over?” You have already decided you want him to leave with you right this moment, and from the slowly widening smirk the gentleman beneath you was offering you, it seemed that he knew your answer as well. 

“Well, I do believe I am yet to taste you properly, and I am sure you would prefer it if I were to part with my so-called offensive robes…both actions for your pleasure of course.” Obi-Wan is finding it extremely difficult to keep his hands from wandering across your exhilarating form, his self-control hanging by the thinnest of threads when he recognizes the buzzing energy coursing through your veins with each desire he unfolds to you. 

“My pleasure, hmm?” Your voice is shaking, but you don’t break his gaze for a single moment, wanting to ensure that he truly, and desperately, wants this as much as you.

“Yes, little one, your pleasure. Whether or not the taste of you may bring me to my knees in ecstasy is entirely my business and not your own.” There is a dangerous hint to his tone, and you swallow the knot forming in your throat as his hand slowly reaches to grasp the base of your neck. He taps gently against your skin, making you wish you were already in the comfort of your bed, on your hands and knees, begging him to mark you with his breath.  

“Stars above, y-you can bend me to your will just by talking to me.” You shut your eyes and surrender to the peaceful storm gradually overtaking your body and soul. 

“They do not call me ‘The Negotiator’ for little, sweetheart. Now, lead the way, and I promise to fulfill all your wishes…including the ones your filthy little mind is too embarrassed to confess to me.”

Tagging people who showed interest in my other Obi-Wan fic/may be interested in this one (some aren’t working): @peachoginuk @purple-mango @zombiesnips-blog @starfirette @marierg @londonian7 @fluffyhales @witch-of-forest @namethathasnotbeentaken @heyhawtdawgs @bluboop @stevenslove @captaincarmel416 @minstens @siidereeus @melifair @midgardianslut @cassrage @tairbutstronger @madnessinwrighting @nicole-lightfoot @storm-breaker7 @pianomad @burningcoffeetimetravel @projectdaydreamer @tropodyn @kenobiquinzel @whydoyouwanna-know @rebloggingfanfictioninthechaos @hellmouthrecs @khapikat222 @pan-dulce135 @black-noir-ink @amunet-06 @hypothetical-strumpet @bigtiddywench @writers-haven-after-dark @galacticspankbank @kagvne @septimaseverinafavfanfic @not1isa @bucket-of-fanfiction @buckmepapi @lights-on-the-ridge @starlady66 @dear-ickis @clonesmybeloved @sinisrebloggin @justmevoldemort @cassrage @icefanfic @uyuartik @feelmyroarrrr @millennial-falcon @littlelioncub43 @astrangegirlsmind @darthjupiter @im-not-great-at-making-up-names @mrsparknuts @cltex84 @fanficsilike-okaylove @poisonous-clouds @mo-i-ra @elledjarin @star-whores-a-new-hoe @justreadingthings @hansonveggieclub @lehns-herr @fnckit-fiction @wheres-the-effing-pie @skvatnavle @stupendouscowboyhairdolover @ilovehimyourhonor @accuningstargazer @metalarmsandmanbuns @buckywhorebarnes @thedaisycrownwitch @artemis-rex @crumbssss @thetimidsarcasticcat @jadesabre83 @teeth-ing @dirty-holy-things

[ddejavvu]

Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.

Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.

“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”

“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”

“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”

The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.

“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”

The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.

You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.

Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.

Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.

You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.

The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”

“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”

Finally.

Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.

However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side. 

Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.

Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.

“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.

“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”

“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”

Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”

“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.

“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”

“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”

“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.

“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”

“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”

“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.

“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”

“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”

Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”

“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.

“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”

“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”

“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.

“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”

There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.

“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”

Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”

You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.

“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”

“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”

“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.

“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”

“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”

The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.

 “God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.

“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”

“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.

“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”

“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”

He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.

You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.

“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.

You freeze; you’re caught.

We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”

“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”

“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”

Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.

“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”

“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”

“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.

“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”

He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.

You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts. 

“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”

“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.

“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”

“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”

“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”

“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”

“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”

“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”

“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”

“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.

“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”

You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.

You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.

Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for. 

“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”

It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.

A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.

“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.

“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.

He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips. 

“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”

“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”

“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”

“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”

“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.

“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”

“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”

“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”

“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”

You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.

“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”

“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”

Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.

You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.

“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors. 

“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”

He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.

When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.

He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.

“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”

You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.

“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”

You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.

“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.

“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”

He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.

“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”

“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”

“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”

“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.

He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.

Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.

You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.

His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.

You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue. 

His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.

“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”

He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.

That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.

“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.

His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds. 

His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.

He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.

“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”

Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.

Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of. 

He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.

A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.

Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?” 

At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.

“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”

“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”

“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”

“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”

You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”

You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.

“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.

“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”

“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.

“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”

“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”

You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.

Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.

You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.

“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”

“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”

“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.

“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.

“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”

“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”

“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss. 

Typical.

You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.

“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard. 

He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”

His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.

“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”

“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”

“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.

“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.

“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.

“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”

The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.

“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”

Would have.

You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.

“But Anakin…”

“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”

“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”

He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.

“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”

Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.

You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”

“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”

“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”

You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly. 

His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”

“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”

You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.

“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.

“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.

“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”

He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.

You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.

He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”

He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.

“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.

His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.

“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling. 

You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.

“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”

In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.

You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.

Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.

“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”

You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”

A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.

He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other. 

The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.

“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.

“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”

He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.

You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.

“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.

“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.

He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all. 

He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.

“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”

“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I’ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”

“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”

Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him. 

It’s too meticulous. 

After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.

“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.

“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”

His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.

“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.

It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock. 

His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.

He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface. 

You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.

Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.

“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”

He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.

“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.

He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.

“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”

“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”

“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”

You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.

You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance. 

He comes undone.

His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer. 

You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans. 

All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.

“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.

“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”

“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.

He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.

You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.

If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.

He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does. 

His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.

Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..

“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.

His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.

His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.

“Do you regret it?”

You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.

He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.

“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.

“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”

“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”

“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring. 

“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety.  “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”

You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.

“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”

A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.

“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”

“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.

“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”

“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”

Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.

“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”

“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”

“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.

“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”

“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.

“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”

“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.

“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”

“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”

Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.

“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”

The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.

Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like. 

“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”

Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”

“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”

Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod, 

“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.

“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”

You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.

“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”

Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.

“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.

“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.

He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.

“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”

“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in. 

You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle. 

There is a shirt on your bed.

It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.

The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.

You and Obi-Wan.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[thesassypadawan]

First Time For Everything (Padawan Obi-Wan x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: It’s Obi’s first time…ever. And although things have a rocky start, he quickly picks things up. But…there’s always time for more practice.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. First time fun and…Obi’s big, fat cock. Padawan reader and sweet boy are of age.

- “Kriff, sweetheart, I…” He kisses you desperately, sloppily. Hips moving impatiently against yours, cock sliding through your soaked folds. “…I want to be with you.”

- Excitement pools in your stomach, travels between your thighs. Hands resting on his chest, teeth nipping at his plush bottom lip. “Are you sure? I-”

- “I’m sure,” Obi-Wan whines softly. Lining himself up, hands squeezing your sides a tad too hard. “Please, just let me…”

- Clumsily he jerks forward, slipping past your entrance…poking at your bottom. You try your best to not giggle at his blunder. Watching his cheeks turn red, an embarrassed look spreads across his face.

- Instead you wrap your fingers around his impressive length, help realign him. Cooing words of encouragement. “It’s all right, it happens… Just relax, enjoy yourself… There’s a first time for everything…”

- Taking a steadying breath, he sinks into your warmth. Arms trembling, a low hiss escaping him. “Tight…so tight…”

- Fairing no better yourself, head tilts back. Hands fist the sheets, and a string of pants falls from your lips. While you struggle to take inch after thick inch, to adjust to the delicious stretch. “Tight…because you’re so big…so good…”

- “Go-good?” You can feel Obi twitch in response, see him attempt to compose himself. As he slowly begins to rock; testing the waters with small, deep thrusts. Tongue poking out slightly in the most adorable way; clearly focusing entirely too hard at the task at hand.

- Despite his awkward timing at first, he quickly finds his rhythm. Plunging into you smoothly, working with the way you roll your hips. Hitting that wonderful spot perfectly. “Yes…good.”

- He’s being so gentle, so careful. By the way he grips your waist though, you can tell he’s holding back. Most likely terrified of hurting you; always such a sweet boy…you’ll fix that.

- Bucking up, grinding against him hard…just enough to make him groan. You whimper, knowing the effect it will have; begging for him to… “Faster… Please go, faster…”

- “Of...of course, dar-darling.” Increasing the speed, he thrusts fervently. Head hung low, blue eyes focused…blown wide. Seemingly hypnotized by the tiny bump that appears in your abdomen every drive.

- “All you…” You shiver when his fingers ghost over, tentatively prod at the spot. “That’s all you, Obi…”

- Grabbing your leg, he pushes it higher. Palm pressing down as he slides deeper; your body starting to clench around him. Gummy walls fluttering, cock throbbing. Until…

- “I…I…” Hips stutter, then falter. Before slamming one last time, a strangled moan flying from his mouth. Spilling, painting your insides white with his hot cum.

- The sensation of being so stuffed, of having Obi-Wan squeeze himself through your skin combines. Making the tightly wound coil finally snap, sending you spiraling. Mewling frantically, gushing all over his cock.

- With a grunt, he collapses on top of you. Arms wrapping around you, holding you close. Nuzzling his face into the side of your neck, chuckling excitedly. “That…that was incredible! I…I… Can we do that again?!”

- Laughing along, coming down from your own high. You kiss the top of his head, whispering in his ear. “We can; you’re just going to have to give me a-”

- “Now… Now…” He mutters, beginning to lazily rock again. Tongue lapping at your collarbone, teeth biting tenderly. “Want to now…I-I need the practice.”

Tag List: @cacti5539

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

part one | part two | part three | ao3

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering. 

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball. 

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though. 

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight. 

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you. 

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you. 

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you. 

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others. 

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?" 

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?" 

"I could never claim otherwise." 

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?” 

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.”  He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.  

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.” 

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.)  But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets. 

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend. 

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people. 

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face. 

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs." 

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear. 

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion. 

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

[dameronology]

when it rains (obi-wan x reader)

summary: being in love with obi-wan is great - but it might be less difficult if he knew about it. (commission for @ofmusesandsecrets!)

warnings: language

You were generally quite good at keeping your shit together.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had always been a threat to that.

On the surface, you were everything a Senator could need to be; an intelligent and well-spoken individual, with a high level of education and a passion for change. You always stood up for what you believed in; always spoke up on issues you were passionate about and always fighting the good fight. These were all things that Obi-Wan had loved about you, and in what felt like the galaxy's cruellest Catch 22, it was that love that threatened your ability to upkeep appearances. One glance at him across the Senate, or a brief moment of eye contact at one of the Galas - more often than not where he was your bodyguard - and you were worried it would all come tumbling down.

You had met Kenobi a few years after he'd become a Jedi Master. You were early on in your career as a politician, working as an apprentice to a higher-level representative. Always on the go, with stacks of paperwork in your arms and a million thoughts brewing in your mind, you'd crossed paths with Obi-Wan one morning during a meeting in the Temple. He'd given you a smile, made a quip about how he'd never seen you not on the go (which confirmed to you that he had seen you before and had stared long enough to notice those details about you).

Five years later, you hadn't been able to look at anyone else.

He was your best friend now, undoubtedly and wholly. You saw each other every day at the least - maybe in meetings and occasionally in passing - but he would come to your apartment every night without fail. Mostly just to catch up, and sometimes just to vent. Even on the days where Anakin had driven him to the point of grey hair, you were still happy to listen.

It was raining tonight in Coruscant. A lot. Lashing down from the sky, putting most of the city to a halt. Your afternoon meeting had been cancelled as a result, which meant you'd been holed up in your apartment all afternoon, a mug of tea in one hand and a stack of paperwork in the other. Obi-Wan's first ever comment to you had always rung true; you were always on the go, even when you were sat still. There was always something on your mind - something to create, something to do, something to debate. Sometimes, it made Obi-Wan want to grab your shoulders, give you a little shake and tell you to slow the fuck down.

He turned up just after 8PM - drenched, as expected, and with a slightly wet coffee cup in hand. In your line of work, you could afford a slow afternoon. For Obi-Wan, your busiest day of work was comparable to one he'd find relaxing. You had no doubt that he'd not long wrapped up for the night, so you wasted no time in stepping aside and letting him into your apartment.

"Long day?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

Obi-Wan glared at you. "Long day. Wet day."

"Right, sorry," you snorted. Taking the coffee cup out his hands, you tossed it into the garbage and headed towards your kitchen. "C'mon, I'll make you a drink that's not half rainwater."

"Thank you, darling," he gave you a small smile, hot on your tail as he followed you through the apartment. "I heard the Senate meeting was called early this afternoon."

"Yeah," you replied. "At like 2PM. Half the people due to come couldn't make it due to the weather. It took me two hours to get home."

"You should have come and found me at the Temple," Obi-Wan said. "You know my room is always available."

You knew. You'd always known, even on the nights when Obi-Wan was present there too. How many times had you stayed over after a long night? Snuck back there after a Gala? Just to sleep three feet apart, both your minds working at a thousand miles an hour, purely to resist the urge to reach out towards him and curl up into his side. The idea of domesticity with Obi-Wan was almost enough to kill you, just as it was right now. Here he was, leant against your kitchen counter. He was throwing his wet cloak into your tumble drier, hands reaching for a tea towel on the side. He was acting like he lived here, like he paid half the rent and maker, you wished he would. You wished that he would come back here every night and just fucking stay. With you, here, forever. No outside world; no politics; no stupid Jedi laws.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

You blinked in surprise. "What?"

"Your mind - it went somewhere," Obi-Wan continued. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh...just work," you forced a smile. "You know how it is."

"I turn off when I'm done," he replied, hand brushing down your arm. "You never really stop, do you?"

I stop thinking about work, you thought to yourself, but I never stop thinking about you.

"No, I will," you murmured. "Sorry."

"Never be sorry," Obi-Wan said.

You snapped back into action, hands quickly chucking ingredients into a mug in order to produce an acceptable cup of coffee. You knew Obi-Wan's routine with his fancy-ass drip filter and organic beans and locally sourced milk. It was a few levels above the instant coffee you were about to press into his hands, but your actions were still met with a smile.

"How are you going to get back to the Temple later?" you asked. "The storm has half the city at a standstill and I beg you not to say that you're walking."

He smiled. "I realised as soon as I got to your building that I may be trapped for the night."

"Right," you replied, fighting back your own smile. "That's sort of the point I was getting to anyways."

Your eyes met, and you couldn't help but sometimes wonder if he felt it too. If his eyes lingered on yours when you turned away, if you were constantly on his mind every moment that you were apart. Of course, it was different for him; after all, the job he'd dedicated his very life to forbade attachment in any form and this? Well, this was the highest form.

"I have some of my brothers clothes in the hallway closet," you broke the silence. "You're welcome to steal some."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you, darling."

It wasn't really a question between you about where he would be sleeping. You only had one bed and you'd already shared before, so what was the point in overcomplicating it? Well...overcomplicating it even more. Nothing about this was simple, and sharing a bed was not the distance you needed for the situation, but what did you care anymore? You yearned to be around the man all the time, even if it meant doing this weird to-and-fro that you'd had going on for half a decade. Him being in your bed just for tonight was fine. You were both tired. You both needed it.

Obi-Wan picked up his mug, giving your arm another squeeze.

"I'm going to go and shower," he said. "Thank you letting me stay."

You smiled and nodded. "Always."

Putting aside your own half empty coffee, you threw it into the sink - that would be tomorrow's problem, as would all of this - and went through to the bedroom. You could hear the shower running, and your mind again went off to that all too familiar place: home. Not here, but wherever Obi-Wan was. What you wouldn't have given to had this every night; you getting ready for bed, him in the shower, both of you planning to end up in the same bed. It wasn't possible. You knew it wasn't possible, as long as he were still a Jedi and as long as you were still a Senator. Hell, you would have thrown your position aside in seconds if it meant being with him. Maybe that was the difference between the two of you.

Changing into a baggy shirt and sweatpants, you threw aside the covers and climbed into bed. The sheets were cold, as they always were when you first went to bed, but knowing someone else was minutes away from warming them up sent butterflies to your stomach. Maybe not butterflies, so much as they were wasps. Big, anxious wasps, at the idea of being in such close proximity with your best friend. What if this was the night that three foot meant fuck all? Maybe you could actually have his arms around; keep him closer for longer, not just a brief hug or a quick touch. This could be it now.

You heard the water shut off and there was a brief shuffling. A few moments later, Obi-Wan exited the bathroom. He'd opted for sweatpants too, but no shirt. Your instincts said to look away, but you couldn't. Hell, you didn't even care that you looked like a creep, watching him as he crossed the room. Obi-Wan barely even noticed, simply placing his boots by the door and climbing into bed beside you. You could feel the heat off his body beside you, arms just inches from touching.

"Was the shower okay?" you asked, eager to break the silence that had once again formed. "I've been having problems with...with my hot water."

"Why are you nervous?"

You blinked. "I'm not nervous."

"Yes, you are," Obi-Wan replied. "You always ramble when you're nervous, and I've never heard you talk about something as boring as how well your shower is working."

"Right," you murmured. "Sorry."

"That still doesn't answer my question," he pushed. "Why are you nervous? It's me, sweetheart."

"Maybe that's exactly why I'm nervous," you muttered. "I'm not sure. I just...it's weird that you're shirtless in my bed."

"Oh," he seemed surprise. "That's okay. I can sleep on the sofa-"

"- no, no, it's fine," you quickly cut him off. "I just never really know what to do these situations, to be honest. When we've slept together before, I've always tried my best to stay on the other side of the bed but...I'm not so sure I want to do that tonight."

Obi-Wan stared blankly ahead for a moment. Okay, so that had been risky as fuck, and for a moment you felt yourself reeling, waiting for his reaction. To your surprise, there wasn't really one. Even when it was the most forward you'd been - without really being forward at all - he still stayed stoic as always. There was no visible response, just a quick blink and a small shrug.

"We're both cold from the rain," he reasoned. "It makes sense. I see no reason why we have to stay on opposite sides of the bed."

Much to your surprise, he was the one to move first. He shuffled onto his side, a large arm coming around your waist and the other snaking underneath you. He pulled you into him, hand guiding your head into his neck and tucking it below his chin. You were stiff for a second, but quickly relaxed - this felt right. Like it was meant to be.

You could faintly smell the remains of his aftershave, mixed with the smell of your shower gel. His skin was still warm from the shower.

(And maybe it was).

"Are you warmer now?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," you murmured. "Toasty."

He smiled. "Good - now get some sleep."

You knew the morning would come, and that Obi-Wan would have to leave; you knew even more that this might not happen again. Not unless luck was on your side and would happen to lump you together during a storm, or a black out. Or - and the more terrifying option - that you declared your love for him and this would be how every night was.

It was hard to know; hard to tell and predict, just like everything else in the galaxy. Still, you were grateful that Obi-Wan was your best friend, and even more grateful that you had tonight.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Jealousy and Principles (Obi-Wan x reader)

Pairings: Obi-Wan x GenderNeutral!Reader Warnings/Tags: Jealousy, light swearing, dispute Summary: The reader is a former Jedi who's left the order many years ago! You and Obi-Wan are on a mission to obtain information from a high-ranking Separatist. In a cantina, which according to rumors is supposed to be his retreat, you decide to use advantage of your flirty skills which awakes jealousy in Obi-Wan. Words: 1.4k A/n: This is my first Obi-Wan x reader one shot. English isn't my first language so I'm sorry for any possible grammar or spelling mistakes! But I hope you enjoy it and let me know if you're interested in a part two!

~~~~~~~~~~

Thick, hot air hit you as you and Obi-Wan entered the cantina. The noise of loud voices talking over one another, laughing, and loudly clinking drinks was a stark contrast to the quiet outside on the near-empty streets of the small town on the Outer Rim planet you visited. You and Obi-Wan had a mission to complete, as there were rumors that this cantina was the home retreat of a high-ranking Separatist who was hiding information useful to the Republic.

“I think we should order a drink,” you said as you and Obi-Wan sat down at a table in one of the corners of the room.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows furrowed critically. But before he could say anything, you continued. "To blend in with the other guests."

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding. He didn't seem too keen on the idea because he knew you were someone who was likely to take a look too deeply into the glass. But after all, you were undercover. Disguised in civilian clothing, you might look like ordinary citizens but anyone who sat in a cantina without drinking anything gave a questionable impression—at least to the staff.

You looked around and raised your hand as you made eye contact with one of the waiter droids. His cylindrical form rolled towards your table and made a loud beeping noise.

“Two of those blue drinks, please,” you ordered and the droid beeped again and then rolled away.

"That guy over there with the gray jacket and the beard. That must be him," Obi-Wan stated, pointing with his chin at a small group of humans and aliens chatting and enjoying their drinks.

You followed his nod and located the group he was talking about. Your eyes scanned every single face, not only to identify the target, but also to check out his companions. They seemed inconspicuous. Like normal civilians. It was the same disguise you and Obi-Wan wore. But since you and Obi-Wan had both saved an image of the Separatist on your data pads, you knew exactly that this man, sitting in a group like a normal person, was unmistakably the target you were looking for.

"He looks much more attractive in real life than in the photo," you said jokingly, your eyes not leaving your target's frame. Tob be honest, he was surprisingly handsome. What a shame he was one of the bad guys, you thought.

By staring at the strange man, you didn't notice Obi-Wan grimacing. "I don't think that-" he started, but was interrupted by the arrival of the beeping waiter droid that brought your drinks.

“Thank you,” you smiled at the little droid as you took your drinks from his tray. They were way bigger than expected. Not as usual as in a small glass, but more like a whole cocktail. With a shallow smile on your lips, you toasted Obi-Wan and took the first sip. Your throat immediately burned as the strong liquid ran down your esophagus and you immediately felt even warmer than you already were in the hot canteen. Then your gaze slid back to the separatist and his handsome face. And that's exactly what gave you an idea. "I know how we can get information out if him," you stated.

Obi-Wan took his glass to his mouth as he listened.

“I’m going to seduce him,” you explained.

Obi-Wan paused his sip, on the verge of choking. “Excuse me?” he asked incredulously, feeling his heart beat going faster.

"You heard me right. If there's one thing that can influence a man, it's a charismatic, stupidly-faithful Y/G."

Obi-Wan, far from enthusiastic about the idea, didn't respond. The tension in him was obvious, but you didn't notice. You were far too convinced that your plan would be successful.

"Y/N-," Obi-Wan began, but by then you were already standing up, pushing the empty chair to the table and walking over to the Separatist.

Obi-Wan sighed. Clutching his drink tightly, he took a sip and watched you on the way to that man. He couldn't quite explain what he was feeling as he observed from a distance as you sat down next to the target and engaged in a flirtatious conversation. He struggled to reconcile the mission's necessity with the unsettling feeling that gnawed at his core. All of this felt so wrong to him. In many ways. Of course he was aware of the fact that you weren't a Jedi and haven't been for many years. So the rules of the order didn't apply to you. But the uncharted territory of your alliance collided with the principles deeply ingrained in his Jedi upbringing and his jaw tightened.

The melody of your hauntingly enchanting voice reached Obi-Wan's ears. He wasn't able to understand a single word you said from his distance so his mind made up it's own conversation between you and the separatist that was both exaggerated and also not very unlikely to happen. After all, Obi-Wan knew who you were and what you were capable of.

His chest hurt in a way it never hurt before as a feeling of jealousy covered his senses. Shocked by his own thought he took nother sip from his drink, his hand trembling as he reached for the glass. He wasn't jealous. He couldn't be. His inner conflict definitely had to have something to do with his Jedi principles and your inappropriate behavior.

Obi-Wan watched you lean far towards the target. A seductive smile on your face underlined the shimmer of excitement in your eyes. You seemed to be truly interested in the separatist's narration, in a way that exceeded the whole idea of the mission and your attempt to seduce information out of him. And the Jedi fcking hated it.

It felt like the whole night has passed when you finally stood up from your seat next to the separatist and strolled back to Obi-Wan.

"I was successful," you said with a slight smile on your face, your cheeks still red from the flirty conversation.

Obi-Wan, who still suffered from the echo of that awful wrenching feeling in his guts, didn't give any attention to what you just said. Instead he took a deep breath and shot his blue eyes to yours. "Was that really necessary?" he asked with a bitter tone underlining his voice.

"What do you mean?" you replied confused not understanding what was wrong with your success.

Obi-Wan stared at you with a cold expression and a feeling of discomfort and concern awoke deep inside your chest. "The flirting."

You blinked twice as you stated at him with confusion and before you were able to open your mouth Obi-Wan continued his examination. "This was not the Jedi way. You just broke the code in one of the most inappropriate ways possible and went against the most important of my Jedi principles."

The moment his words entered your brain the feeling of concern turned into anger. "Are you kidding me?" you replied harshly. "I just degraded myself by flirting with one of our biggest enemies and you're sitting here being displeased by my practices instead of being satisfied with the outcome? I'm not a Jedi, Obi-Wan!"

"But you've been a Jedi before," Obi-Wan stated.

You took s sharp breath, furious because of his absolutely dim-witted stubbornness. "And?What's the point of your arguments? I've left the order years ago and you, out of everyone, should know best that I don't give a damn shit about neither the code nor the Jedi principles!"

"And that's exactly the problem!" Obi-Wan replied, his voice becoming louder. You saw a flash of anger in his eyes and felt even more offended by his audacity to criticize you for breaking a code you don't follow while he, in the exact same minute, did the same by letting himself be guided by his emotions.

You took a deep breath before calming your voice to a level that reflected both your weariness towards this conversation and your feeling of disappointment because of the ungratefulness the Jedi confronted you with. "You knew exactly what I am when we started our alliance."

With those words you left the cantina ans entered the darkness of a starless night. You felt like even talking to a wall would have a more productive outcome than this conversation. Obi-Wan was supposed to be a good friend of yours but right now your efforts don't seem to be appreciated. And it also doesn't seem like he truly accepts you for who you are.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Obi-Wan trying to understand what is troubling you...

Obi-Wan approached the vacant seat beside you at the cantina bar. He frowned at the empty glasses and gently pushed away the one you were toying with.

“I think you’ve had enough spotchka for one night.”

You glanced at the Jedi and let out a groan that you could have sworn was internal but judging from his expression, it wasn't.

“How did you find me?”

Leaning against the counter, Obi-Wan stared out towards the crowd. “Dex saw you in here. He mentioned it to Cody and Cody had the right sense to inform me.” He explained and looked at your saddened form staring into the blue liquid. “What’s going on? You know you can confide in me.”

Taking the glass back into your hand, you tipped your head back and downed the rest of the drink letting the empty item hit the bar table with a loud thud. “Not about this, I can’t.”

Obi-Wan took a seat, facing you. "Please try." He requested. "This sudden behaviour of yours - it has me very concerned."

~ More imagines here ~

[lacontroller1991]

Boxes of Dye and Boxes of Tea (Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Star Wars Master List

Warnings: Obi-Wan being jealous, Obi-Wan being insecure (but not for long), one sexual comment (18+ please), slight age gap (reader is of legal age)

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: I switch between POVs a lot in this, each POV switch is noted by a series of dashes. Anywho, enjoy!

==========

One of the defining rules of the Jedi Code is to be humble. Humble about your life, your wardrobe, your attitude and your appearance. It is also one of the defining rules of the Jedi Code to not form romantic attachments to anyone, let alone someone in the order and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi? He broke both. It’s not like he could control who he loves, after all, underneath the worn armor, robes, and tunics, he is human. And with being human comes human emotions like lust, love, jealousy, insecurities. 

Despite being trained in the ways of suppressing his emotions so as to not let them cloud his judgment, nothing could have trained him for the day that he sees you; his secret, younger, lover with a male about half his age. Normally, it doesn’t bother Obi-Wan who you talk to because he’s not normally a jealous guy, but after one snide comment from Anakin about the gray in his hair, it has Obi-Wan questioning everything, and seeing you talking with someone half his age? Well, Obi-Wan can’t help but to feel jealous and insecure.

Turning on his heel rapidly, Obi-Wan narrowly dodges your line of sight and rushes down the numerous halls towards his chambers as doubt clouds his mind. Would you leave him for that guy? Is he too old for you? Do you need someone more youthful to keep up with you? The questions storm in his mind as he looks over his appearance. He’s still in great shape, but he does note that he looks more exhausted than normal and his hair is starting to show his years of… wisdom. Sighing in annoyance, Obi-Wan frowns at his appearance. Just how can you find him attractive? Picking up a book, he tries to focus on the words but to no avail.

With a pep in your step, you all but skip towards Obi-Wan’s quarters, a present in your hand. After meeting up with your friend who grows tea leaves, you finally collected a large enough tea collection that will hopefully last Obi-Wan’s next upcoming mission.

Knocking on the door, you quickly hide the present under your robe and put a smile on your face as the door slides open, revealing a somber Obi-Wan with wet hair, causing your smile to turn into a frown of concern. “Obi? What’s wrong?”

—---------

Hearing the knock of his door, Obi-Wan cringes slightly knowing that it’s you on the other side. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, it’s more of the fact that he doesn’t want to be seen by you, but still, he heads toward the door and opens it, revealing you standing there with a smile on your face that quickly turns into a frown. “Obi? What’s wrong?” Sighing, he backs away from the door as you hesitantly walk into his room, closing the door behind you, not really sure how to handle the man in front of you. “Did the Council say something? Are you going on a mission sooner than we thought?”

“No, little one. It’s nothing. I’ve just been a bit lost in my head today, that’s all.” Seeming to not buy his excuse, he watches as you sit yourself down on his bed, arms still clasped together in your robe. 

“You can’t fool me, Obi. What’s really going on?” Normally, your forthrightness is admirable, but now, he’s seriously disliking it.

—-------

“I’ve just been feeling a little…. insecure, I guess.” You quirk up an eyebrow as you look around his room, trying to find something, anything that will give you a clue and then you spot it just lightly poking out of the trashcan in his refresher. It’s hardly noticeable, but you’re a female, you know what a box of hair dye looks like. Looking back over your lover, you notice that only two spots are freshly dyed, given with how unblended they are. The spots right above his ears. The spots where gray streaks begin. It suddenly clicks in your mind. 

Without revealing the present, you remove your cloak from your body and move to stand in front of him. “Why are you dying your hair?”

—-------

Obi-Wan lets out a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but you remain still, trying to comprehend. Letting out a sigh, Obi-Wan’s hands reach up for your hips and drag you into him while your hands move to his scalp, lightly running careful fingertips through his damp locks as he loses himself in the feeling. “Anakin pointed out that my hair is getting more gray and that I’m looking older and I guess I just wanted to remain youthful for you.” He’s embarrassed to admit it in fear that you’ll laugh at him, but instead, he feels a feather soft kiss against the crown of his damp head.

“Oh Obi-Wan, my handsome, handsome man, please don’t change your looks for me. I don’t care what you look like. I love you for you. I love your humor, your wisdom, your sarcasm, your penchant for tea, the way you call me ‘darling’ or ‘my love’,  and the way you hold me in your arms at night. I love you as a lover and I admire you as a Jedi. Besides, obviously you’re going to age slightly. You’re fighting in a war and not to mention, I’m sure training Anakin definitely wasn’t stress free, so I really wouldn’t worry about a couple of pieces of hair.” Obi-Wan smiles softly at your words as you continue to roam your hands throughout his hair, lighting scratching his scalp.

“You’re right darling. I guess it came over me because I saw you with that one guy in the hall, who happens to be your age.”

“Who, Sid? He was only giving me something that I asked for,” Obi-Wan watches as you move your robe to the side and reveal a wrapped box. Turning around, you hand the box to Obi-Wan as you take a seat next to him. “Go ahead and open it.”

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.” Obi-Wan has told you numerous times to not get him any sort of gifts, but you, ever being thoughtful, never listens. Tearing the paper off, he looks down at the box before removing the lid and spotting a variety of tea bags, and a lot of them. “Tea?”

“Yeah, I spent some time collecting a variety and Sid had the last ones I was looking for. I figured that I could make you something before your next mission and hopefully it’ll last.”

“This is so kind of you.” He sets the box to the side and brings you in for a hug, feeling foolish about overreacting to something that he didn’t know.

“Anything for you, my love. And you wanna know something?” He pulls away and makes eye contact with you, a mischievous grin gracing your lips.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to say something inappropriate?”

“Because you know me so well,” you lean forward, your hands sliding up his thighs ever so slightly. “I really, really love your hair the way it is. I especially love tugging onto it while we make sweet sweet love.” And if Obi-Wan wasn’t flustered before, he definitely is now.

=fin=

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @tavners

[hereticpriest]

OMMMG OKAY hope this is okay for you and i hope you're doing amazing :D

so, i was wondering if you could write something for obi wan and preferably a female reader who has tattoos (body modifications, from the list) like she's a fellow jedi with him in the temple, they maybe were intimate, but obi wan couldn't really focus on her tattoos and now in the aftermath he can, like she has a lot of tattoos and obi wan really takes his time to take a look at them and placing soft kisses everywhere.

this is all over the place, hope you can work with this, if you have any questions send me a dm. 🥰

Alright hun, I hope you enjoy it! Tattoos are based on some dm convo, but you can imagine them differently if I didn't get the right tone. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Sweat cools on your skin as you lay panting atop sheets that aren’t your own, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. You stretch languidly, back arched, arms above your head with a yawn that is admittedly less than attractive. A soft laugh sounds beside you, and you hum inquisitively, turning your head slowly to look at the man stretched out beside you. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Master on the Jedi Council and one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen in your entire life. His strawberry blond hair, usually so well groomed, is now a mess and sticking up in every direction. His cheeks are ruddy, freckles showing even more somehow when he’s this flush and well-fucked. His eyes are bright, the blue of them akin to the sky on a day filled with sunshine and warmth on any planet less air-polluted than Coruscant, and the corners are crinkled with crows feet from a life well lived. When he looks at you, you don’t see any of the regret or shame you might’ve imagined considering you’re not exactly meant to be cavorting with each other. Instead, his gaze is fond and filled with heat, though you’re unsure if it’s leftover from your recent coupling, or just the look a man has when he’s thoroughly known a woman.

You instinctively smush your hand against his face to hide from his affectionate looks, and he laughs, grabbing your arm so you can’t escape him. His lips trace up over your palm to your wrist, which he nips affectionately, his eyes warm on yours. They widen quite suddenly, and you raise an eyebrow as he pulls away to examine your arm, twisting it before his eyes as far as the joint can roll.

“Oh hello. How did I miss these?” He asks, his voice playfully curious as he trails his fingers over the intricate tattoos on your arms. On the right, a Medusa-themed sleeve that you were particularly proud of. On the left, a deer pranced upon your bicep while a wolf howled upon your forearm. You scoff at him, trying to pull your arm loose, though he tightens his grip.

“Are you blind, Obi-Wan?” You ask him incredulously, “Or was I simply not worth the attention when you could simply rut into me like a beast?”

He rolls atop you easily, pinning your arms to the pillow beneath your head while he settles his hips between your thighs, “I knew you had tattoos, dearest, I simply didn’t see what they portrayed. I’m not a total imbecile. And I don’t think name calling is in order, since this ‘beast’ just made you come thrice without a single complaint from you, dear.”

You raise your eyebrows, letting out a doubtful hum, and he snorts as he bends to steal a kiss.

“Alright, cheeky. Let me take a good look now that I’ve got the time, and you aren’t tearing my back to shreds for being too slow.”

You scoff, cheeks growing hot with embarrassment as you’re well aware he’s entirely right. If anyone was at fault for him not having the time to fully appreciate your nude form, it was you. Every time his lips parted from yours or your skin, you’d whine up a storm. When he slowed for any reason, you’d dug your nails into his back until he got back to it. You’re sure the poor man is covered in scratches, and you suddenly feel guilty, until he bites your lower lip, “Enough, kitten, your claws didn’t hurt me that badly. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

Well!

You tighten your thighs around his hips, and he chuckles, smoothing his hand over the ink on your stomach.

“No, let me have a look. I’ll play with you afterwards.” he promises dismissively, sliding his palms down from your chest to your hips, then walking his fingers back up over the lines of ink that make up the Vitruvian Man atop the stoic sphinxes on your hipbones. As he traces higher, his fingers pause to pinch your nipples as he examines the depiction of the Creation of Adam across your heaving chest. Your ribs into your back are equally covered in art depicting the birth and early years of science, and Obi-Wan pauses to press his lips along the ink to feel the microscopic changes in texture under his lips.

“Look at you, sweetheart. Aren’t you a work of art?” He whispers, and you shiver, your head rolling back against the pillows, “I suppose, quite unlike a museum or art gallery, I have full permission to touch the artwork as much as I like, don’t I?”

A heady gasp leaves your lips, and you blink down at him as he nips at one of the sphinxes, “Again?” You ask hesitantly, having felt his hardness against you.

“Unless you’re quite spent, kitten. Do you need a nap?” He asks playfully, grinning as he kisses along the swell of your stomach.

“Gods, you’re such a fucking tease. Hurry up, you motormouth.”

He snorts.

“Very well, kitten. I’ll put my… ‘motormouth’, as it were, to better uses, shall I?”

You don’t reply, instead just grabbing a fistful of his hair and pushing his face down while he laughs, gleeful in his victory of making you lose control.

[starlazergazer]

Masterlist

Top Ten Most Popular

Here’s my ao3 in case you’re interested!

*All Anakin x Reader

1.  Are You Okay

2.  Nervous

3.  I’ll Make it up to You

4.  Flirting With the Dark Side

5.  I Will Come Back for You

6.  I’ve Got You

7.  It’s Not Too Late

8.  There Under the Surface

9.  Welcome Home

10.  Princess

Anakin

Just Wanted to Help - Anakin comforts reader after finding her crying in the hallway

There Under the Surface - Jealous Anakin when you’re sent to work with an old friend

I’ll Make it up to You - Anakin’s forced to grovel after saying something mean in a fight

Are You Okay - Reader hides injury from Anakin

I’ve Got You - Reader wakes up on Anakin’s chest

Flirting With the Dark Side - Hades and Persephone AU

Princess - Anakin gets under the reader’s skin while acting as her bodyguard for an upcoming speech

No Where Else to Go - Reader ends up at her “enemy’s” doorstep after a hard mission

Best Friend’s Master - Reader is waitress at Dex’s diner and friends with Ahsoka

Trapped - Anakin freeing reader who is a prisoner of war

Spare Key    Spark Key Part 2 - Soulmate matching eye color AU

Treasure Planet AU - only part one for now!

I Will Come Back for You - Anakin promises to come back for childhood best friend after leaving for the order

Fallen Sick - Reader refuses to take care of herself when she’s sick

Not Sinking - Anakin teaches reader to swim

Nervous - Anakin pinning after a shy/oblivious reader

It’s Not Too Late - Anakin’s second chance after becoming a sith

Through the Looking Glass - star wars/marvel AU, reader is peter parkers girlfriend in another universe

Senators Shadow - Anakin acts as readers bodyguard and is incredibly cold and distant

You Deserve Better - Anakin is there for reader while she struggles in an unhealthy relationship

Welcome Home - Pregnant reader flees sith!Anakin

Say My Name and Everything Just Stops - Reader gets dressed up for a ball

Pinkey Promise - Reader follows Anakin into dangerous warzone to his dismay

Couldn’t Get Rid of Me if you Tried - Anakin makes reader sleep and comforts her during a nightmare

Figure Something Out - Enemies/academic rivals to lovers

You Promised - Anakin gets hurt and the reader freaks out

Separated - The Council force the reader and Anakin apart

Obi-Wan

Distraction - Reader acts as bait to Obi-Wan’s dismay

The Space Medium - Reader has ability to see ghosts and helps Obi-Wan come to terms with the passing of his master

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 26

Day Twenty-Five | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Seven

Pairing: Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Apprentice!Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Notes: I'm hecking nervous about this one, too 😅 This uhhh this was not the plan for today. But here we are.

Warnings: Sith Master!Obi-Wan; Sith Apprentice!Reader; Power imbalance; Force-choking; deep-throating; grinding; masturbation; choking (without the Force); degradation

You twist against the bounds of the Force, grunting in frustration. You can’t raise your arm, and you strain to move your fingers, to summon your lightsaber from where it’s fallen just a few feet away. The Force loosens, and you drop to the floor with a groan, wincing as your knees slam against the floor.

“Are you through?”

“No, Master,” You swear.

“Then why are you still on the floor.” 

Obi-Wan’s dismissive tone cut through you, drifting past you toward the door. You curl your hand into fist, pounding it against the floor before you spring up, your hand shooting out. Your lightsaber smacks into your palm, flickering to life as you raise it. Before you can land a proper blow, Obi-Wan’s stops yours. The force of his parry makes you stumble, sending you backward. You regain your footing, raising your lightsaber to strike—but with every blow that he levels, you find yourself forced further and further into playing defense. Your back hits the wall as your lightsaber is knocked from your hand again. You feel the Force pinning your hands to the wall, and your gaze drops to Obi’s hand. It’s slightly extended, and you thrill at the fact that he hardly has to exert himself to restrain you. He loosens his grip again, shaking his head as he heads for the door.

“We’ll resume tomorrow.” 

You push yourself off of the wall, unsteady, but determined. 

“We’re not done,” You argue.

“You won’t win.” 

“Don’t turn your back on me—Coward!” 

You know immediately that it’s a mistake. It stills him in his step, and you find yourself as intrigued as you are panicked. The air seems to crackle as Obi-Wan turns back toward you, his jaw tight, and his dark and eyes narrowed with rage. You open your mouth to speak again, but gasp as pressure closes in around your neck, forcing you against the wall. You fight to keep your eyes on Obi-Wan’s, your irritation giving way to arousal as he silently stalks closer. You force your arms up, trying to summon your lightsaber again, but he knocks your wrist aside.

You swallow thickly, face twisted in frustration you fight against the Force. Obi-Wan stops toe-to-toe with you, his chest brushing yours. His gaze sweeps your face before he leans in. Your eyes lower to eye his dark robes, your breath catching as you feel the tip of his nose brush your cheekbone. 

“Look at you,” He murmurs, tipping his head to the side; the bristle of his beard against your cheek makes your stomach flip. “Pathetic…Weak. It’s almost precious to watch you struggle.”

You shiver as he presses closer, your body going hot at his purred taunts.

“You like it, don’t you,” He adds, his breath brushing against your ear. “I see how you fight for it. I know that you are more powerful than you appear, but you make these…Silly little mistakes. For what? For this?” 

You choke out a moan as you feel the Force tighten for just a moment before it loosens again. Obi-Wan tuts softly, shaking his head. 

“If you challenge me, you need to be ready for all that comes with it. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Do you?” He chuckles cruelly. “You can hardly keep your lightsaber in your hand—Ah, ah…” The pressure tightens around your neck again as you try to press closer to him, “Temper, temper.” 

He tips his chin up, staring down his nose at you. 

“What you want…Is beyond the bounds of what you have known. Can you handle what comes with it?” 

“I can, Master.” 

He hums speculatively, nodding slowly. 

“We shall see.” 

--

You can’t breathe. Your throat spasms around Obi-Wan's cock, your nails digging into his thighs as you struggle against the hold that he has on the back of your neck, and the shove of his hips. It’s another blinding, head-splitting moment before he lets you pull away. You draw in a thick, greedy breath, coughing wetly as peer up at Obi, your eyes tearing. He strokes his fingers along your nape, the sweet feeling making your lashes flutter for just a moment—

Until he shoves you back down. Your jaw goes slack, aching from exertion as you take him between your lips again. You press closer, shuffling your knees against the floor as he reclines in his seat. You press your thighs together, savoring the aching throb as you messily swipe your tongue against his thick shaft. You shiver as the top of his boot catches against your clothed, slick pussy, and you can’t help but press slightly against the crinkling leather. He scoffs above you, pressing his leg between your thighs. 

“Look at you,” He coos, “You desperate little slut…Humping my leg like a charhound in heat.” 

You whimper around him, driving your hips forward into the pressure. You bob your head, swirling your tongue messily along the shaft. You brace again as Obi-Wan holds your head down, his groans filling your ears as you struggle and gag. He lets go just long enough for you to catch your breath before immediately pushing you back down. His hips bound up against you, and you aren’t given a word of warning as he cums. You surrender to it, desperately trying to swallow. When you can’t, you draw off of his cock and raise your hand. You gather the spit and cum that have slipped and swipe your fingers through them before sliding your hand beneath your trousers. 

The first slick, heated touch to your clit makes you moan aloud. Obi-Wan hinges forward in the chair and leans over you, spreading the remainder of the mess across your face before sliding his hand around your throat. You press into the hot feeling of his palm and fingers as he squeezes. His gaze is heavy on yours as your eyelids flutter, your hips driving into your touch as you chase the pressure building between your thighs, even as your head seems to throb. His grip tightens, his face twisted into a snarl as you pant desperately. 

“M-More,” You plead, whimpering as you feel the added pressure of the Force beneath his palm. Your mouth parts as you pant, your vision beginning to crowd with spots. 

“Master...Obi—" Your eyes roll into the back of your head, hand faltering as you struggle to draw in a breath—

You fall to the floor as he releases you, your hips jolting as you cum. Your fingers still move on auto-pilot; your head pounds, still reeling from the restraint. You draw in a greedy breath, watching stars dance in your vision as you stare at the ceiling. You swallow thickly as you settle, the blood still roaring in your ears. Your head lolls to the side a touch as you see Obi-Wan stand, and watch him straighten his trousers. He forgoes his tunic as he stands over you, his eyes sweeping down your body. 

“...Dress,” He counsels, “And leave. We’ll resume in the morning.” 

“Yes, Master.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

[penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories]

what’s your best advice for someone trying to get into writing Obi-Wan? I’ve been reading a lot of fanfic (lol, for research…), but is there anything in particular that you think is key about getting his character right? I’ve really enjoyed your work and 221bshrlocked so far—in fact, I just asked them this exact question lol

I have not checked my inbox in AGES it seems, since this is over a year old. I’m sorry! If you still want to know, I’d say watching clips of him really helps. Watching his mannerisms, how he talks, what he responds to and what he remains passive on. The clone wars is surprisingly helpful in this too. We get some details on him we don’t get in the movies.

I like remembering, when I’m writing him, that he’s someone who has a VERY immaculate mask he presents to others, and he’s very private. We know from canon books that he doesn’t have a high opinion of himself exactly, and that he has far more insecurities than are visible. There is a lot more to him than he presents to the world. He’s more emotional than he lets on. He feels, deeply.

He’s someone who’s guided by his sense of duty; he finds his purpose in serving others as a Jedi, but I also think this is a crutch for him. He was brushed to the side a lot as a child and teenager, and he was thrust into responsibilities he had to grow into from a young age. When he has loved, he often loses them, in both friendships and romantically. He recovered from this gracefully, externally, but the wounds are still there.

This is my personal interpretation of his character, but I think he really pours himself into responsibility to others, yes, because he cares deeply, but also because that is where he has excelled and been affirmed. But very few have looked at him for who he is, not what he is or what he does, and loved him.

Part of why I love writing him in a romantic setting is this: I think that being loved would challenge his sense of self in a tremendous way. If he’d let a person in like that, I think it could be an excellent propellant for his personal growth.

(I recognize this could also be explored platonically, but if they didn’t want us to swoon, they should have picked anyone except Ewan to play him 💀)

I don’t know if this helps, but I know it’s what I keep in mind when I write him ☺️☺️

[ddejavvu]

being the middle of an anakin x obi wan sandwich,,,,

mei you are so big brain I love it

This post is 18+, minors dni.

No cos anakin’s a little peeved that he has to share you with his master but he has absolutely no game/decorum so he needs obi-wan to get you INTO bed but then he’s pissed that obi-wan gets to fuck you too - he has absolutely awful jealousy issues but still he respects his master and obi-wan is the calm to anakin’s storm which you really appreciate - anakin wants to take take take and even when he’s giving he’s taking. He’s greedy, coaxing more orgasms out of you than you ever thought possible, and obi-wan is a firm and steady presence that you’re so so grateful for - obi-wan is the one murmuring in your ear about how well you’re doing and fondling your breasts in his big ass hands and kissing the side of your neck and giving you beard burn while anakin’s making out with your abused cunt - anakin’s pussydrunk at this point and he just knows he wants more of you he wants to taste more he wants to feel more he wants more. Obi-wan is the one that tells him to slow down for a second, to wait while you suck his cock (it’s fat btw trust me) to give your pussy a little break and he means that anakin can fuck you afterwards to take care of the hard-on that he got from eating you out but anakin actually gets so worked up at the sight of you with dick down your throat that he rubs one out and splatters you with his cum 💞

Obi-wan is a much smoother lover, if I can put it that way. Anakin’s greedy and just wants what he wants when he wants it but obi-wan takes it slow to make sure he doesn’t overload you and strokes at your cheeks where anakin would be sucking your tongue. Of course he’s passionate, I’m not saying he’s soft because he’s not horny/invested, but he makes things easy for you whereas anakin probably ravages you and overstimulates you until you’re twitching 🫶🫶

[thesassypadawan]

So Uncivilized (Master Obi-Wan x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: After a long mission all Obi wants is a good rest. Too bad that will have to wait. You ‘accidently’ left something of yours in his sleep couch…and got your poor master all hot and bothered. Oppsies!

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Panties, masturbation, some good time riding, and Obi’s big, fat cock. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: A little something for @fluentlyspeakingtreason! It was truly a pleasure to write this! As soon as I read your ask, I knew exactly what do! I had a lot of fun with it, cannot not emphasize that enough!  Hope you like it! 💙

Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan plopped down on his sleep couch. It had been a long mission and, what felt like, an even longer debriefing with the council. All he had craved from the moment he set foot back on Coruscant was a good rest and, finally, he was able to do so.

Having stripped down to nothing, he pulled back the covers and was met by the very ‘interesting’ surprise of…your panties.

True, a master shouldn’t know what their padawan wears beneath those robes. However you had, on more than one occasion, forgotten them in the fresher after you were done. Leaving Obi flushed in the face, head full of ‘thoughts’, and, well, painfully hard.

Despite all of that, he never dared act on these ‘thoughts’. Always pretending he didn’t see them and, to his great dismay, letting them remain behind. Because of the whole jedi code, you being his padawan, and what not.

That is until today though…

Not sure whether it was the lack of sleep, temptation getting the best of him, or maybe both. Either way, Obi-Wan found himself taking the small, lacey pair into his hands. Bringing them to his face and…

He groaned as he inhaled your heavenly scent. Mouth watering as he lapped at the tacky spot of your arousal that you so kindly gifted to him. “Maker, you’re a sweet one.”

Once they were licked clean, he wrapped them around his hard cock. Eyes closing as he began to pump himself. Imagining how your face would contort in ecstasy, while he pounded into you. How you would clench around him, head thrown back as you begged for…

“I’ve been looking for those!”

Obi’s eyes snapped open in surprise. He had been so caught up in his fantasy that he didn’t even hear the door sliding open. “Little one, I… Well, you see… Why are you naked?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you giggled softly. “Obviously because I couldn’t find my panties. Come on, master, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I-I-I…” Was all he could manage to stutter out. He was flustered beyond belief. Face on fire from embarrassment. Cock twitching at the fact that you caught him in such a deprave act.

“Anyway,” you purred, snatching your lingerie off him. “Thanks for keeping them warm for me.”

Winking playfully, you kissed his oozing tip and turned to leave. But were stopped when…

“And where do you think you’re going?” Obi-Wan growled, an iron grip on your wrist.

He watched as a mischievous grin crossed your face. “I was going to put some clothes on. You know since I found my panties.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Grasping your hips firmly, he pulled you down on top of him. Crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Forcing your knees on either side of his thighs.

“You’ve misbehaved, padawan of mine.” He reached between your bodies. Taking hold of himself and placing his fat head at your already soaked entrance. “And you’re not leaving here until you’ve been thoroughly punished.”

“Is that so?” You cooed, grinding your hips into him nice and slow. “Prove it then.”

He merely smirked and with a subtle persuasion of the force, Obi had you slowly sinking down on his impressive length. Stretching out your pussy as he made you take girthy inch after girthy inch. Until he bottomed out.

“Master,” you happily mewled, rubbing the slight bulge in your stomach. “So big, master.”

“Darling,” he scolded, large hand grazing over your little bump. “This is punishment, not enjoyment. Do you understand?”

He felt you squirm under his touch. “Yes, master,” you whimpered, giving a slight nod as you bit your lip.

“Excellent.” His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Now be my good girl and take everything I give you.”

Snapping his hips, Obi-Wan slammed up into you. Making your cry out in pleasure, already desperately clamping down on him.

“So tight.” Using his hands, he moved you up and down. “So wet.” Bucking wildly, hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you. “And so naughty.”

He was bouncing you on his cock by this point. Hips thrusting at a ruthless pace as he lifted you effortlessly. Bullying and bruising your cervix over and over.

“M-Master,” you whined, your walls fluttering around him. “I’m so c-close…”

“Already?” Obi grunted, his hips beginning to falter. “All right, dear one, you may… cum.”

Tugging you down hard on his cock, he somehow buried himself even deeper. Groaning as you clenched him wonderfully, while he stuffed your pussy deliciously full of his hot cum.

“Well then,” he chuckled, noticing the satisfied smile you wore. “You certainly looked pleased with yourself.”

“You bet ya,” you giggled, pressing a fiery kiss to his lips. “Think I’ll have to misplace my panties more often.”

“So uncivilized,” Obi-Wan growled, emphasizing his point with a good, hard thrust.

Tag List: @cacti5539

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight. 

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say. 

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.  

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan. 

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered.  You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

 A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

 ===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention. 

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence. 

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.” 

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing?  “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”  

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

 “I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

 === 

 “I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning. 

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.” 

[dameronology]

Pls feel free to ignore but can I get some soft protective Obi-Wan? I’m going through it at the moment ❤️❤️😍 So happy to see you emerge!

i am so happy to be back! i hope you feel better soon <3

obi-wan is very understanding that you can look out for yourself and that you don't need his protection, but the minute he thinks you're going to be hurt, he's there no questions asked.

maybe you're in battle together, or you've just come back and you're injured; the poor man is trying to walk the line between showing you he cares and not outing your relationship to the council

so really, his main thing is getting you somewhere private. obi-wan is a strangely good liar, and he's pulling you away from the nurse droids, murmuring something about a fear of medical spaces and really, it would be better if i treated them so we can have a mission debrief

it works. probably because they're droids and they're not programmed to argue about these things. also, why he is panicking about outing your relationship to droids, who are also not programmed to give a fuck about that probably? just realised that as i'm typing. but it seems like the kind of silly thing that would r/whoosh over obi's head so. i'm going to keep it.

anyways, he has you on his bed in seconds, hands roaming all over your arms, whispers of i'm so glad you're okay and where does it hurt? and tell me what you need, my love.

it takes you a second to get your brain in order, mostly because you're probably concussed and the room is spinning, but it's something he deduces quickly.

after babysitting anakin for years, his medicine cabinet is actually better equipped than the jedi infirmary so whatever injury you have, he's got something to help it.

you don't say much whilst he's bandaging you up - you just let him do his work. more for his sake than for yours, because you don't care if you're a bit dizzy for a few days or that your bruises might linger, but he definitely does.

once you're a bit more with it, that's when obi becomes especially affectionate. he just sorta lays there with you, arms around you and holding you to his chest.

that's when you both calm down, just listening to each other's heartbeats and taking comfort in the fact that once again, you made it home safe, and you're both alive and well. alive and mostly well, in your case.

of course, there's a lecture about safety in the morning

but you've come to enjoy those too