#Obi-Wan can guest

[yukipri]

Ngl this is sorta making me queasy with excitement/nervousness...

Especially coming right on the tail of:

So even though I will likely be a clown (again) this time tomorrow, here's what I wrote out in the twitter thread above:

Please @/starwars Obi-Wan Kenobi Season 2, this time with Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison as co-stars. There's closure now with Obi-Wan & Vader. Next, closure between the Jedi & the clones on Order 66, represented by the 2 we saw experience it first: Obi-Wan and Commander Cody

I know in the latest Obi-Wan comic, Obi-Wan basically goes "I miss Cody to this day, even though he tried to kill me. Ah well." And it just K*LLS me that that's it. Obi-Wan (and most the Jedi) have no clue that the clones were victims too.

Y'all are inserting Order 66 scenes in almost every show, so you can do it one more time, this time in an attempt to understand and gain closure. And this is a story that is genuinely best told through Obi-Wan and Cody. Palpatine sent the Order to Cody, first and most directly.

This is a story that doesn't need to mess with characters like Luke or Leia, who we know we'll see again. Cody is MIA as of TBB S2. Obi-Wan now also has some time after season 1, where we know he can't really be messing with Vader. This story can fit in well.

(heck, you can even insert more Clone Wars flashbacks, including young Ahsoka, you saw how much we all loved that in the Ahsoka show!) This show would let you share more about other clones and Jedi as well. Depending on how TBB S3 ends, we can have some connections there too.

PLUS! Temuera Morrison seems eager for a role. I'd love to see him again as Boba in TBOBF S2 (and have a whole 'nother pitch there), but Cody is a character that Tem personally originated in ROTS. He also had fantastic chemistry with Ewan as Jango!

So I'd love to see them share a screen again. (plus, age-wise, he's kinda closer to double-speed aged Cody than Boba?)

I could go on forever but…yes, please this.

(also can I help write it?😂😭🙏)

~~End Thread

But yeah, I know better than to get my hopes up, and I have been a clown about this many times before (including but not limited for the actual Obi-Wan S1 lmao).

So here I am with my clown mask ready: 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

(Edit: added this in the tags but:

It does occur to me that another very possible route they could take an Obi-Wan Kenobi season 2 is doing something with Quinlan, since they left that very obvious thread open in S1.

BUT I would still prefer Cody & clones centric😭🙏)

[theseptemberist]

something i would really love to see at the end of all this is obi-wan finding a way to help while still protecting luke. making tatooine part of the path, shepherding force sensitives and helping them to their new lives. obi-wan can’t join the rebellion but “there are other ways to fight,” and his way is by standing as a beacon of hope, the light that is faded but not forgotten. he’s learned to trust again so he can do this, so he can find meaning in his exile not through turning inward but through his connections with the jedi, his family, that are not gone and never will be gone as long as hope survives

[philcoulsonismyhero]

Getting into a new show when I’m trying to hold myself to specific Work Art(TM) deadlines is. Torturous. Why did I do this to myself

[frostbitebakery]

“What are you looking at?”

“You—”

“How is it that your flirting with the enemy is so much more nuanced.”

“— and your truly impressive struggle with the flimsicoder’s charger.”

“Be my guest if you think you can do better, Obi-Wan.”

“And rob myself of the entertainment? I’d never.”

for @thetorontokid and @jedishadowolf

[nwndrlndn]

Boyfriend

pairing : modern!anakin skywalker x fem!reader | wc : 3.4k  | 18+MINORS DNI

summary : A boring night unravels into something new during a movie night with your roommate’s ex. 

warnings : oral ( fem receiving ), semi public sex ( theyre in a living room ), big dick ani, suggested size difference, use of the phrase “my little champ,” unprotected sex, ani is weird

a/n : yes i do picture modern anakin as an angsty metalhead, covered in tatts and piercings. also song was partially inspired by boyfriend by ashlee simpson

In your apartment, there was a natural order to things: Padmé would things first, then Sabé, then you. Usually this worked in your favor with chores and responsibilities, but with other things, it didn’t. Prime example, Anakin Skywalker. When you met him at your college orientation, you both hit it off and started hanging out. At the time, he was still an awkward guy, with honey blond hair and an interest in becoming a pilot. But he already knew Padmé and asked her out halfway through the year and your time together dwindled. Even though you wished it was you with Anakin, you grew to accept him as Padmé’s boyfriend and not someone for you.

Anakin visited your apartment daily. At movie nights with Obi-Wan and the other girls in your apartment, Anakin’s usual spot was sandwiched between you and Padmé. He would take Padmé and Artoo on walks when it was your turn to walk him and fix your car at a discount whenever you had an issue. You saw him turn from a big eyed, chatty extrovert to his his more tired and reserved self, you even sat through his first tattoo with Padmé and Obi-Wan. Slowly, you felt like you had buried your crush and started seeing him as more of a brother, a constant figure in your life over the three years they were together. 

Thats why it was a shock when she dumped him last year. You thought it it would never happen, but when it did, you thought it would change everything. That was until you got home from work the next day to find him splayed out on your couch with Artoo on his chest as they both napped. Over the past year, Anakin and Padmé moved on and started seeing new people and having flings, but you couldn’t help the budding feelings of hope, coming back from you. Maybe you’re getting another chance.

Its late on a Friday and you had no plans. Well, scratch that, you had options, you just spent too long in bed to really decide. As you ready a bowl of cereal for yourself – at what 9:28 pm – you hear the front door to your loft apartment open. Without looking, you knew it was Anakin. He was as much a part of the house as Sabé and Padme’s nightly ritual of deciding what outfits they would wear the next day or Artoo’s zoomies whenever a guest comes over. As you stand at the kitchen, you think about all the times you walked in on Padmé and Anakin attempting to cook, more like Anakin teaching her how to cook because she never watched her personal chefs cook growing up.

You turn to face him and you notice Anakin is in a gray hoodie stained from his part time job at a mechanic shop and he still had his uniform shirt on. He slides his hoodie off and your eyes drift to the tattoos he has all over his neck and arms, you remember one summer a couple of years ago, when he was still finding ways to fill the gaps on his chest and back and you spent hours talking about it at Padme’s lakehouse. You smile at the memory, and by the time you come back to earth, Anakin is already sitting on the couch and smiling as he pets Artoo. His hair is a mess (as usual), the bags under his eyes are still there, and you notice a small bag at his side. Anakin’s presence was so normal to you that you forgot for a moment that you're still in a tank top and underwear. 

“Hey Ani, is that a redbull or a monster?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the couch as you munch away at your cereal. You can hear the drums and guitar from whatever metal song he was listening to on his headphones as it rests on his shoulders.

“Neither, its reign.” Anakin answers before he yawns, he’s still focused on petting Artoo until he looks up and sees you. At first his tired gaze passes over you and when he notices your outfit, his eyes narrow a bit, drinking in your appearance. “Long shift.”

“I get it.” You say with a smile before you remember the note Padmé left on the fridge. “Hold on, you left a drink over last time.” You say, a smile growing on your face as you set down your bowl and walk back to the kitchen. As you do, Anakin’s eyes wander, tracing your chest as you lean forward, the curve of your back as you turn, then slowly dragging his eyes over your ass and legs as you walk back. For a moment, he lets his mind wander, tugging his lip between his teeth and tonguing at his lip ring.

“Oh really, thank you.” Anakin’s eyes widen a bit in surprise as you pull it out from the fridge and he gets up to meet you by the fridge. When he reaches out to take the beverage from you, he lets my hand linger on yours a bit longer than necessary for it to have been an accident and his smile turns a bit teasing.

“So, did Padmé invite you over?” You ask as you both walk back to the living room and to your original seats. 

Anakin laughs a bit nervously at the question before he answers slowly, “No actually, I dropped by just to see you.” He cracks open the drink you gave him, forgetting momentarily of the drink he brought with him. “Is that an issue.” He says it more like a statement than a question, because he already knew you didn't mind.

“No, of course not.” You answer quickly, maybe too quickly, watching as his lips curl around the can he’s drinking from, his lip ring making a soft clink against the aluminum. He lets out a groan as he finishes his sip and leans back, spreading his legs and settling into the couch. Your eyes are caught on him and you don’t even pretend to hide it. 

Once you snap back, you stand up. “Let me put on some real pants, okay? I don’t think you came to see me in my panties.” 

Anakin smirks and looks you up and down, letting out a small chuckle. “Yeah that might me a bit of a good idea” He makes a show of looking the rest of your body up and down again as you start to walk to your room, biting his lip. But thats exactly what he wanted, he wanted to slide that tank top over your head and let his tongue explore its way down, down your neck, over your chest a-

“Don’t go changing into anything too fancy…” He adds, taking himself out of his reverie.

“Don't worry.” You say, turning your head so he wont see you blush, waving him off as you go into your room and slide on some baggy pajama pants. You could hardly remember where you got them from, an ex maybe? As you take a moment to check yourself over, you call out to him “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Movie sounds great. What do you wanna watch?” He calls back to you, his hands squeezing at some random stress ball trying to resist the temptation to just sneak into your room after you. Once he sees Padmé’s contact info on it, he throws it across the room, and starts to pull up Netflix. As he scrolls through the selection a bit, a small smile plays at the corner of his lips when he sees a movie you like, his finger hovering over the play button. 

He turns to look to your room to try to see if he can catch you through your door, or if you’re about to walk back out. “Found one…”

“Good! Just gimmie one second.” You murmur as you come out of your room, smoothing your hair.

His eyes linger on your neck for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Right! Here we go…” He clicks play on the movie and sit down in the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Come sit with me.” He whispers, giving you a charming smile and patting the seat next to him. And you take your seat next to him, resting your head on his chest as he puts an arm around your shoulders, getting closer still.

As the movie starts, some blonde is running from the killer and you both laugh. After a moment, you speak up, “Thanks for coming over. You know, if you didn’t come by, I was probably gonna send a message to this guy I’ve been talking to.”

He raises an eyebrow, one of his hands coming to rest on your waist. “Oh? Anyone I know?” As he is talking, he rests his chin on your head, almost touching you but stopping himself.

“Probably not, he’s a biology major.”

He puts an arm around your shoulders, while the hand that rested against your arm moves to rest on your stomach. “Oh yeah? You like a little brain with your men? I get it. So many girls I’ve seen on campus are so… air-headed.” He smiles before he adds, “But you definitely aren’t one of them.”

“I thought you liked airheads.” You tease, looking up at him with a smile. 

“A little. But I like a girl who can keep up with me intellectually, someone who won’t be so predictable. Someone who has drive and passion. Does that make you a little less predictable?” He runs his hand gently down your side, smiling.

“Definitely… Do you want a blanket? Pillow? Anything?”

“You’d do all that for me?” He scoots a little closer, letting his hand slide down to your thigh “I don’t wanna be a hassle…”

“I’m the host. I’m being nice to my guest, who is basically a squatter who doesn’t pay any rent.” You mutter and he laughs a bit at your words.

One of Anakin’s eyebrows raises suggestively “Well, in that case, it is rather cold in here…” He whispers as he moves his hand up your leg a little further. His eyes rest on a throw blanket on the other end of the couch. “And that blanket looks so very warm and cuddly…”

“Alright.” You whisper back with a smile, reaching over for the blanket that Anakin was eying and your shirt rides up a bit, and once he notices your shirt riding up, and his eyes linger there for a moment before he bites his lip.

“Here, let me just..” He whispers, letting his hand stay on your thigh while his other hand reaches up to your shirt, pulling it down a bit again, his eyes drifting back down to your legs. “Sorry, got a little too loose there.” 

You thank him and settle back down, covering both of you with the blanket and Anakin doesn’t bother trying to hide his staring this time. As you relax, you feel his hand slowly make its way up your thigh and slide behind, resting just under your ass. You fan feel your heartbeat in your throat as you wonder if its harmless, but as you look from the TV to Anakin, you see he’s unbothered and his hand still resting on your leg. 

As the movie continues, his hands wander. Anakin’s warm, callused hands absently rubbing the smooth skin of your thighs. When he notices you’re focused on the movie, he leans in near your ear and whispers, “Yeah? Well let me tell you something, your thighs are so soft. So, smooth.”

He moves a little closer, getting comfortable, and kisses you on the neck “And I know you have nice smooth skin too.”

You can feel your face heat up and Anakin presses his lips to your pulse point, breathing in your scent as he feels your racing heartbeat. He whispers softly to you “Would you show me some of it?”

You hesitate for a moment, your breaths quick as you try to focus on the movie again before you answer. “You can feel if you want. I trust you.” Your eyes are still focused on the movie as Anakin starts to slowly slide his hands up your arms, to your neck, to your shoulders. Slowly, he moves over your back, his hands moving down, caressing your lower back. He moves his hands up to the hem of your shirt, and slowly starts to lift, looking at you, waiting to see if you had any objections.

Your breath hitches and you shut your eyes for a moment, before you lift your arms and he slides your tanktop off. After a moment, he moved his hands back to your waist, and started to caress your skin, his eyes moving up at yours again, waiting to see your reaction before he dips his head, lips grazing against your sternum. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

The movie is quickly forgotten as he sucks hickies up and down your abdomen, littering your neck, before he leans in and pulls you in for a desperate kiss and you meet him with enthusiasm. As your tongues meet, you can still taste the taurine on him and it feels right, so accurate to Anakin. As he deepens the kiss, he slides you down against the couch and makes quick work of slipping down your pajamas and you let out a soft gasp as his hands move downward, taking a minute to kneed at your hips before he adjusts himself until his lips are lined up with your core. You lean back on your elbows to make eye contact with him and he lick a stripe up your core, nose bumping against your clit, making you jolt slightly. 

Just as soon as your legs start to move, Anakin’s hands are on your thighs and holding them open. “I got you, pretty girl, just relax.” He murmurs, his words sending a wave of heat from your head to your center. His eyes stay on yours as his tongue meets your clit and slowly introduce a finger to your hole. You moan and reach out and tug at his shaggy hair, earning you faster licks and a second finger. He moves away from your clit to kiss at your mound, sucking in a few more hickeys.

“What was the name of the guy you were gonna call?” He whispers, slowing his pace and making you whine. “I know a few bio majors… Is it Dimitre? Colaldo? Can’t be Brenjami, he’s not good enough for you.” Anakin punctions each name with a harder thrust of his fingers into your core and drawing out moans from your lips.

“How do you know who’s good enough for me?”

“You need someone who knows you like I do.” He carefully adds in a third finger, shushing you before you can whine from the pain by kissing you again. His skillful lips moving against yours as his fingers move in you, curling and hitting you in just the right spot. As you moan into the kiss, Anakin moves away from your lips to kiss at your neck. “Someone wants to take you where you want to go and wants what you want.” 

You feel a familiar pressure start to built up and Anakin’s pace doesn’t slow down but he leans in to your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “I know the perfect guy for you.” He whispers, his voice raspy from holding himself back.

“Are you gonna say you?” You pant out, and you can feel his smile and his lip ring as the cool metal drags against your ear.

“Winner winner.” He says with a smirk, then picks up the pace of his fingers as you gasp, moaning out before you finally cum. He keeps moving his fingers as he leans to your cheek and sucks a hickey into your cheek. You shut your eyes as you catch your breath, one of your hands clasped around his to try and stop him from overstimulating you. “I want everyone to see it. Want every one to know that I gave it to you. Will you tell them?” 

“What about Padmé?” You blurt out, feeling the heat rush to your face and Anakin chuckles.

“Fuck Padmé. Why are you thinking about her when you could’ve been focusing on how full I’m gonna stuff you?” He murmurs, pulling his fingers out of you and licking them clean. “Doesn’t matter.” Anakin rolls his eyes before he tweaks your cheek. “Just focus on the moment, alright?” 

He tugs his shirt over his head and your eyes trace his chest and smile where you see he got his friends named tattooed. As you reach forward and touch your name, resting just above his belly button, he doesn’t stop you, focusing on kicking off his socks and shoes and undoing his jeans. “What?” He mumbles, looking to where you're touching and smiles. “Forget about it? I used it for target practice, you know, some nights when all its just me and my right hand, I had a game where I-”

“Not sexy. Not at all.” Anakin laughs and you watch as his face crinkles and you cant help but smile back at him. As he calms down, he kicks off his jeans and settles between your legs again. As soon he frees his cock, you take a breath as you look up at his face, all. Wordlessly, he senses your discomfort and leans over, giving you a quick kiss before he lines himself with your hole with one hand, the other rubbing at your thigh slowly to comfort you. “You got this, you’re my little champ, right?” 

He slowly starts to slide his tip in, and hunches over you, nuzzling his head into your neck. As he continues to slide into you, he lets out a groan, muffling himself with your neck. As he keeps moving, you whine and try to pull away but he holds your hips, pausing for a moment. “You’ve got it, just a little more, okay? You can handle it.” His words send another wave of arousal through you and your nails dig into his back for support.

You nod and shut your eyes but he doesn’t move, instead Anakin nuzzles against your cheek and moves your hair out of your face, murmuring “No rush. Just tell me when you’re ready.” His words warm your heart and you give him the “go-ahead” after another few minutes, he starts to finish sliding himself into you, his thumbs tracing your hip bones. He lets out a grunt once he’s fully in you, and you hold his hips still, looking up at him. “See, you made it fit. Fucking perfect, you’re so good.” He murmurs, tracing your hip bones as he starts making light thrusts and your nails drag down his back. 

Your moans and his groans fill the room as he starts to pick up speed. Anakin’s grip on your hips are hard enough to bruise and his lips linger near your ear, quietly whispering for you to remember to breathe, as he continues to jackhammer into you. His thumb circling your clit “Good fucking girl.” He groans, his lips locking around one of your nipples, and one of his hands come up to tweak the other. 

You can see the red marks forming on his back from your nails as you try to hold onto him from support. “Gonna let me do this again?” You pant out a few times before you catch your breath and whine out a strained yes. He smirks and his lips move to your other nipple, licking and sucking at it. “You're gonna want this again?” 

You nod, shutting your eyes as you hug his neck, you can feel him start to throb inside you and his hips stuttering. “Yes, Ani. We’re gonna do this again.” You desperately grind against him, feeling your coming release.

“Good girl, I knew you’d get the words out. Now let go.” He groans out, his thumb picking up speed and you come with a loud moan and after a few more thrusts, you feel Anakin fill you up and then he flattens out on top of you, shutting his eyes and pretending to sleep.

“Ani, you're crushing me.” You whine, pushing at his shoulders but he doesn't budge, his deadweight holding you in place.

“You’re a champ. Just stay still for a few minutes. Then we can go shower and get our round two.” He murmurs, his breath hitting your cheek and a sleepy smile lines his face. You can’t help but smile and you shut your eyes for a moment, one hand in his hair and the other rubbing his back.

[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

[archeo-starwars]

You wouldn't happen to have an extensive layout dissection of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant? Or even a list of all notable and obscure sections of the Jedi Temple? OR or even labelled areas that are public and reserved for only temple residents. Both from canon and legends, please and thank you!!!

The best I managed to find comes from Star Wars Complete Locations - you may check out the whole archived version here. The “zoom in” option is pretty good for reading details. Below the pages (I suppose the best is to open them in new tab for better reading):

As for the list of locations, I recommend wookiepedia's list. Plenty of data, both for Legends and New Canon.

Additional sources worth to check out:

Jedi Temple Locations & Jedi Temple History - both published as official material on star wars.com in regard to prequels and New Canon sources. Pictures and references to various places inside Temple.

Star Wars.com's The Clone Wars episode guide + videoclips from the series, like

A) Jedi Archives Tour (the entrance to one of the most restricted areas of the temple: The Holocron Vault).

B) Layout of Jedi Temple Library (source)

C) Jedi Temple funeral room + environment illustration by Tara Rueping (source)

Old Data Bank for Jedi Temple

HoloNews mentioning "a mob of 20 university students attempted to infiltrate the Jedi Temple" and "managing to get as far as the Second Atrium Lobby"

Star Wars Battlefront (2) game wiki provides some map and location description

and if you have time (and patience) you can watch gameplay from 501st Legion's mission in Jedi Temple for reference, like this one

The wookiepedia's articles should give enough good idea of the rooms, their location and functions, but I'm adding a few source pages:

STAR WARS: FACT FILES #36 provides a lot informations what and where was inside the Temple and some general data about visitors, security, Grand Balcony, Grand Corridor & Towers. Not all is super specific, but worth checking out for sure.

The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia mentions this:

and for Jedi Temple entry:

As for the named locations that are public or reserved for only temple residents, there is definitely a division like that, however I'm not sure if this issue was very well explained. The source gives us some ideas, like for example, Jedi Archives have data accessible only for Jedi with rank of Master or higher (thus most likely separated areas to study). At the same time, Fact Files #25 says that Jedi Archives offers an "excellent resources to researchers, including star-map hologram consoles", but also an access to entire scientific and historical knowledge of the Republic

so non-Jedi were allowed to use Jedi Library/Archives for their own research and work-related needs. We also must remember that the Jedi Order had various scientific branches, including archaeology, exploring unknown regions, and medicine, so logically thinking Jedi worked with other, non-Jedi specialists of many fields.

We also know from various sources, that politicians and important guests were invited for various occasions. We could see in Republic comics series that Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and senator Ask Aak were allowed to listen to Jedi reporting before High Council about his last battle

or attending Jedi Funeral like Duchess Satine and Padme Amidala did for the (fake) Obi-Wan's one or just visiting as a friend/comrade-in-arm

I would need to make more research about this issue as there is plenty tie-in material to Jedi Temple on Coruscant that would take a lot time to study, but at this moment, I think the best is assume how far a non-Jedi may walk into Temple will depend greatly who is that person and what is nature of their business with Jedi.

At the same time, Purge: Seconds to Die has this line "Clone Troopers? This deep in the Temple? Not permitted."

The Jedi was in Archives herself, so it is worth to take into account that clones could have more limited access to Temple than the average guest before war did. At the same time, clone troopers could make a report before Yoda and Mace Windu/High Council, as was presented by Star Wars Tales (Honor Bound):

so it is not like they were outright forbidden to enter the temple either.

Hope it will help!

[tennessoui]

Hey I hope you're having a good day! I'm sure you've already got a handful of prompts but how about *shakes magic 8-ball* number 17, meeting at a party whilst drunk au!

hello thank you for sending this in!! i'm still working down my list of prompts, and this one is: meeting at a party whilst drunk

i took some liberties with the prompt here though, so really this is meeting (again after a long time) at a party whilst drunk

(2.8k) (gffa, anakin leaves the order after the war au)

Usually, Obi-Wan is better about this sort of thing. It is, after all, a matter of utmost importance. It’s a matter of survival. 

Usually, when he receives an invitation to an event, he does not commit himself to going until he can complete some reconnaissance about the other guests invited. Until he knows beyond a reasonable doubt that Anakin Skywalker, ex-Jedi and current husband to Senator Amidala, will not be in attendance.

It is much better this way. For everyone involved, really, but especially for Obi-Wan and his poor fool’s heart. It is much better if they keep an entire planet between themselves these days—preferably multiple planets. Preferably half a galaxy.

But this is a retirement party for Bail, and Obi-Wan cannot miss it. His old friend deserves better than that, better than Obi-Wan’s cowardice getting in the way of a celebration of his decades-long career in the Senate.

So he accepts the invitation without researching the guest list. He thinks—he hopes—that in the past nine years, Anakin Skywalker’s intense dislike of Bail Organa has not waned. Anakin, when Obi-Wan knew him, when he was Obi-Wan’s—Obi-Wan’s padawan—had a tendency to make a snap judgement about someone and never change his opinion. 

His hatred had been like an impenetrable wall, unchanging and immovable.

His love had ebbed and flowed, drowned out by his anger or his irritation, coming in great waves when he was in a fine mood and resembling a desert’s drought when he was upset.

But his hatred had always been unshakable once assigned. The very first time Obi-Wan saw it in Anakin’s eyes when he looked at him, a year after he left the Order and the last time they'd seen each other, he’d known for a fact that he’d lost him. That the love had dried up and gone and that it would never return. It’d felt like watching Anakin leave the Temple all over again, like a hand clenched around his heart squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

So he hopes that Anakin has chosen not to attend Bail’s retirement party. Oh, he knows that Anakin’s wife is here, and he has already downed two flutes of sparkling wine to prepare himself for the sight of her looking resplendent across the ballroom, but he hopes that Anakin has chosen to stay home instead of wasting an evening fawning over a man he never liked in the first place.

Besides, someone should look after the children. They’re nine now, Obi-Wan knows. If they are anything like Anakin was at that age, they must need constant supervision. And he has already seen Senator Amidala once tonight from afar, knows that she is here amongst the party-goers.

He tightens his grip on his fourth flute of wine and turns his attention back to his conversation partner. 

It is rather rude to be so preoccupied in the midst of a conversation with another, but Obi-Wan is an old man now and a war hero. He’s allowed to get away with much more these days than he could in the past.

“Yes, I admit the Jedi Order still has far to go in order to rebuild itself,” he says, mind torn between the small talk and the drink in his hand. These sorts of conversations are easy to have. Yes, the war took a lot out of the Jedi Order. Yes, we are still working through the damages and the trauma. Yes, it’s been ten years since, but sometimes it feels as if it was only yesterday. Yes, sometimes it feels as if I am still fighting.

And then—

Then the woman he is talking to grows bold. She rests her hand on his forearm, the one that is holding the flute of wine, and steps closer.

And in the Force, there is a rumbling of pure, visceral hatred, the sort Obi-Wan has only ever felt in the air a few times.

The sort that is achingly, distressingly familiar.

He turns his head, even though he knows he should not look. He knows looking will take him out at the knees. He knows he may never recover if he looks.

He turns his head and he looks anyway. There, across the room, standing to the left of a load bearing pillar is the drawn and furious face of Anakin Skywalker, ex-Jedi, ex-padawan.

Obi-Wan’s first thought is that he looks older, though he realizes a moment later how absolutely inane that is. Of course he looks older. It has been nine years since he really talked to him, eight years since he last saw him, and he has tried to avoid any news or photos about the man at all. In his mind, he is still as he was in those days and months following the end of the war. But logically, he knows that the time has passed, that not even the Chosen One is immune to aging.

Anakin’s hair is streaked with shoots of silver. It’s short now, cropped close to his head though still curling as much as he lets it. His face is worn, wrinkled in different, unfamiliar places. He is wearing finery befitting that of a senator’s husband, the color of a midnight sky.

It is strangely comforting to see him dressed in the same colors he has worn since he was a youngling in Obi-Wan’s care. If he were wearing white or, or green or pink, then Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’d be able to recognize him at all.

“Are you quite alright, Master Kenobi?” the woman asks, words filtering in through the static noise in Obi-Wan’s head. 

No. Of course he is not alright.

Yes. He is better than alright. He feels as if his head has broken the surface of the water he’s been trapped under for the past nine years. He feels as if the sight of Anakin Skywalker is a sip of water when he’s on the brink of dehydration.

“You know actually I am not sure,” he tells her, which is overly personal and not at all what he’d meant to say. But that is what the sight of Anakin Skywalker does these days. It throws him off, makes him loose-tongued and off-centered.

Fuck, he thinks once, viciously. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he tells her, carefully separating himself from her touch and taking a step away. She looks disappointed almost immediately, and Obi-Wan should care about the image he’s making, how impolite he is being, but he has bigger concerns right now. 

Anakin Skywalker is here. 

“Enjoy your evening,” he adds as he raises his flute of wine to his lips and drains it in one go. “Unfortunately, I’m going to go get incredibly drunk.”

“Uh,” the woman says, but Obi-Wan is already gone. He can’t—he can’t stay. Not in this room, not under the weight of Anakin Skywalker’s stare.

Thank the Force he started the night by giving his congratulations and warm regard to Bail. If things turn sour, he’ll be able to slip away with only minimal rudeness.

And, if he’s being quite honest, things have already soured beyond the point of salvation.

But instead of leaving—instead of slipping out the room and running back to the Temple, tail between his legs, he stays. Inexplicably, he grabs another flute of wine from a passing server and retreats to a balcony.

Fresh air will sober him up, he thinks, even as he downs half the flute. 

He should leave, he thinks, even as he stays.

He should leave—but he cannot bring himself to. Anakin is here and it’s Obi-Wan’s worst nightmare and it’s the only thing he’s desired for the past nine years.

Barely a minute passes before the balcony door opens behind him. Obi-Wan keeps his eyes pinned to the city-scape around them.

“Occupied,” he says, even though he knows who it is. Even though he knows the word is useless. Anakin will not leave until he wants to.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says. Just his name, just three syllables.

Obi-Wan downs the rest of the flute. “Anakin,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself before he turns to look at him.

Oh, he wishes he could blame the alcohol for how beautiful he finds him, but he knows that’s just some dark and twisted part of himself, some sinful and perverted aspect of his soul he has never been able to scrub clean.

“How are you?” He says, because he cannot let Anakin speak first. If he lets Anakin speak first, there will be a diplomatic incident, surely. If he lets Anakin speak first, Anakin will control the conversation—Anakin will tear through all of his shields and land on his sorest, most vulnerable spots. “How are the children?” “Do you even know their names?” Anakin spits back, eyebrows drawn dark and heavy over his expression. His face is flushed. He must have been drinking as well. “How old they are? Do not ask after my children as if you care about them at all, Obi-Wan—I know you don’t!”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan says. “Leia.”

Oh, he wishes Anakin were right. He wishes he didn’t know a damn thing about them, about him, about the life he lives now. One completely separate and void of Obi-Wan. 

Anakin probably does not notice his absence. After all, he has a wife, two children. A part-time job, if Bail can be believed. He wonders if he still meditates facing the wrong way, back to the sun, and suddenly his heart feels so tight he can hardly breathe through the pain.

Anakin sneers. “Whatever,” he says and reaches into the folds of his robes to pull out a silver flask. He raises it to his lips and takes a swig, rubbing a hand over his mouth when he’s done, capping it and sliding back into his robes.

It is the alcohol that loosens his tongue, Obi-Wan knows it. Obi-Wan understands that he has had too much to drink tonight to be standing before Anakin Skywalker now, that anything that comes out of his mouth will be something he regrets in the morning.

But does it really matter? How could it matter? Anakin Skywalker was his whole life for a decade and a few years, and then he left. And now a decade has passed. In five years, he will have spent longer missing him than he spent loving him. What does a few words matter now?

Obi-Wan has already lost everything. He is already made of regret.

“I don’t know why you insist on acting so hatefully,” he says. “You left.”

He means, of course, that if anyone should hate anyone here, it is Obi-Wan’s right to hate Anakin.

Impossible, as it were, but his right. Anakin left.

Obi-Wan asked him to stay.

“You kissed me,” Anakin spits back.

And yes, alright. He kissed him as well.

His fingers itch for another flute of wine. Perhaps a swallow of the flask in Anakin’s robes. Anything. Anything to dull the white-hot ache of this conversation. Anything to escape these consequences.

“Nine years ago,” he says, quietly. “It’s been nine years, Anakin.”

Let it go.

He hadn’t—he really hadn’t meant to kiss him. It had been—a foolish mistake, something that had happened late at night, a few months after the end of the war, and they had been in Obi-Wan’s quarters, drinking and talking and Anakin had said something about leaving the Order, and Obi-Wan had said something about him staying, and Anakin had said, Padmé is pregnant, and Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan had kissed him.

A foolish mistake, made only survivable by the way that, for a handful of precious seconds, Anakin had kissed him back.

Before the yelling, the hatred, the anger. The leaving. Before all of that, Anakin had kissed him back.

“I have already apologized, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, exhausted, and his eyes cut away from Anakin, turn back to the city. “I have thought of that moment countless times–-and I cannot begin to explain what came over me, what I was thinking at the time.”

He just—he hadn’t wanted Anakin to leave. Had thought that perhaps if he could—if he could give Anakin himself in all the ways one person could devote themselves to another, then maybe it would be enough. Maybe he would stay.

A foolish hope, one that Obi-Wan should have known better than to entertain even for a moment.

“I have thought of it too,” Anakin says. He clears his throat. He lurches forward, unsteady on his feet. His hand comes into contact with Obi-Wan’s arm, glove on sleeve. Thank the Force for the layers still in between them.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and the truth is that he means it as much as he does not. He is sorry for taking the brotherhood and friendship between them and shattering it. He is sorry that he kissed Anakin, that he hastened his leave.

But he is not sorry for knowing how his lips felt against his own. How he tasted.

Obi-Wan is a lonely old man, despite the family he has surrounded himself with at the Temple. Despite his new padawan that he has been training for the past eight years. Despite the trips he takes to see his retired men, Cody and the 212th scattered across the galaxy. Despite all the ways he fills his days, all the people he meets and talks to and trains with, he is still lonely. There is still a hole in his heart, a space that Anakin used to occupy.

“I have thought of it every day since,” Anakin says, repeating himself in that way drunkards do when they have forgotten they already started the same sentence a moment before.

“I’m—”

“It has haunted me,” Anakin says. His voice is sharp and angry and Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes and shy away from it. Obi-Wan, who has faced down Separatists and sith lords and blaster fire, wants to turn tail and hide. Retreat. Retreat.

Anakin’s voice turns—darker, wilder. His hand tightens and he tugs, just hard enough that it overbalances Obi-Wan. “I am haunted by the kiss you never should have given me.”

“Had I known you were married, I never would have—”

“You ruined it,” Anakin snaps. “You ruined my marriage!”

“I…” Obi-Wan’s throat clicks, words drying out. “What?”

“We filed for separation months ago,” Anakin says. His eyes are dark; he is holding his arm so tightly that it hurts. “Joint custody of the children, but a formal divorce. Amicable.”

Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if he can speak at all.

“It wouldn’t have been amicable if she knew though,” Anakin says. He takes a step forward. Obi-Wan gives ground. He does not know how else to fight Anakin. “If she knew what I thought about when I retreated from her touch. If she knew what—who—drove me from our bed every night to walk through our house like a ghost wandering the halls.”

“If your marriage ended over a kiss I gave you nine years ago, then it is hardly my fault,” Obi-Wan says, putting his hand on Anakin’s chest to keep distance between them. When did they become so close? This is much too close. Obi-Wan can smell Anakin’s soap, his sweat. The alcohol on his breath.

“But it is,” Anakin insists, unable still it seems to take his share of the blame and make his peace with it. “It is, because I spent half my life in love with you, then I finally commit to someone else—allow myself to look and love and appreciate someone else’s beauty—and then you kiss me, as if I have not already sworn loyalty to another! As if I could be yours to kiss! As if I still was!”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, unable to do more. “It was a kiss, Anakin, it was—I assure you, I am not such a good kisser that I can be blamed for your failed marriage when it was nine years ago!”

“Then you do not remember it as well as I do,” Anakin murmurs, and now—now the rage has turned darker, heady. His eyes catch and hold onto Obi-Wan’s lips. His eyes are more black than blue. His face is flushed. He is—so handsome. So beautiful still, after all of these years. “Let me refresh your memory,” he says, and Obi-Wan—

Obi-Wan is weak when it comes to Anakin. He always has been. He is so weak. And he needs—he needs so much. He makes a sound, something embarrassingly small and desperate, and then Anakin is kissing him and it feels like being sliced open and like coming home, all at the same time. 

Like how it felt when he returned to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon after his master had died—a homecoming, but at what cost? A death and a birth, all at the same time. He had lingered in the doorway that first time, unable to push himself across and into quarters that felt both strange and familiar. 

It had been Anakin, a small boy still, who had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside.

Still now, even all these years later, Obi-Wan closes his eyes and allows himself to follow Anakin’s lead. 

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

My new favorite thing on tumblr.com is the discourse around how hard it is to leave the order you guys, they leave their members ‘with no life skills’ etc etc, ONLY THE CLOTHES ON THEIR BACKS, it’s so darlingly melodramatic that I’m low-key picturing some kind of ritualistic drumming out ceremony, possibly involving the knights chanting ‘shame,’ ‘shame,’ ala game of thrones, while every single council member gazes down upon them from on high, faces carved from judgmental stone, culminating in the poor sod spending their first night in rags sleeping at the foot of the temple steps,

okay, I am getting distracted. What I’m actually amusing myself with is picturing what Ahsoka, 16 years of age, can put on her CV. It’s a lot. Now I hate CVs so like I’m not about to write up hers but. It includes military command, references from at least two GALACTIC SENATORS who worked with her, references from at least two HEADS OF STATE. Engineering, piloting, teaching, combat, military command, special ops, investigation, geo-politics....... She is 16. This is an objectively insane CV.

Her level of education is so respected that a head of state invited her to guest lecture at their top academy when she was 14, to kids her own age, and she was poised and confident throughout. Her schooling gets outright called out as privileged by her coruscanti friends. Also like, please let me know when the standard US high school curriculum comprehensively covers shit like astronavigation.

Every time she is depicted with non-jedi kids her age she is depicted as generally more worldly and prepared than them. The mandalorian kids. Lux, Trace, etc. She’s never encountered deathwatch or the Pikes directly before she’s rescuing her friends from them, but she immediately knows what’s up because she is simply. Well informed. Unlike her friends. It’s not like she doesn’t also learn things from them in these episodes, but. She just knows a lot.

She also left the order with at a minimum multiple contacts in the senate, a friendship with the king of Mon Calamar (I think?) and the duchal family of mandalore, as well as some shadier contacts.

(Now it’s true that tcw never answered, or even asked, what kind of financial or otherwise situation the temple itself provides to help a jedi who wants out to find their feet. That’s not a question you can ask in Ahsoka’s case without also asking: where the hell was Padme’s support? Why wasn’t Ahsoka sleeping on her couch? That’s her sister-in-law! Actually this is a trick question because Ahsoka tells Anakin she needs to figure this out on her own. Without the council, and without him. So we’ll never know. Until disney churns out yet more content that may or may not contradict previous content.)

(Absolute props to Ahsoka that is 100% what I would have done at 16. That’s just what being 16 is like. Bad things happen and then GOODBYE I AM PUTTING A SANDWICH IN A HANKERCHIEF AND TYING IT TO A STICK AND WALKING INTO THE SUNSET I AM GOING MY OWN WAY I WILL SLEEP ROUGH I WILL GO WHERE THE WIND BLOWS THIS WORLD IS STRANGE AND CRUEL AND I MUST RELY ON MYSELF GOODBYE)

(and obviously like canonically the door was 100% open to her returning, anytime she saw them they were like so... any chance you’re done with your walkabout?... we still have your room ready... your frog grandpa feels so bad he literally had a bad trip vision quest where you were like dying and asking him why he abandoned you and we had to commit him he is very sad. except maybe we’re not actually going to say this because that would sound like a guilt trip.. but... lightsabers ? :3)

(Generally the disaster lineage are a deeply ridiculous dataset. When Obi Wan was contemplating leaving the order he was contemplating becoming the Duke-Consort of Mandalore. Anakin not only married money but was offered a job by the Chancellor at 12 (comics). I mean ANAKIN RUN but also imagine being 12 and the president of the galaxy says well if you don’t like it with your dad I’ll give you a job)

Ultimately when Ahsoka left she tripped and fell into job as a mechanic, immediately found herself bailing her new boss out of trouble, and was headhunted like a week later to be on the command team for a counter coup of a whole system. She was still 16. The rest of us can only aspire to these kinds of job opportunities.

[sky-kenobye]

Fic idea that I've been obsessing over in the last couple of days:

TLDR: Obi-Wan gets dumped on his wedding day, Anakin suggests they get married instead to save Obi-Wan the humiliation (and money), he agrees, they get married and nobody realises the stunt they pulled (except for the few people they told), and they both realise that actually it's great to be married to each other and that they wouldn't have it any other way, and probably get their happily ever after.

(A lot more details under the cut for those who are interested!)

Obi-Wan is getting married to someone (I was thinking Satine at first but I don't want to bash on her just because she's in the way of my ship so let's say an original character 🤷), Anakin is his best man, and it's a kinda big and traditional wedding and they did the 'you can't see your bride until the ceremony' stuff, so Obi-Wan is already at the city hall(?), while the bride will be coming later, just before the start of the ceremony.

It's less than an hour before the start and some early guests are already getting there. One of the bride's guest (Padmé?) is arriving when she gets a phone call from the bride, telling her that the wedding is canceled, sorry for calling at the last minute but she had to call all the guests and she was the last one. At the same time Anakin is coming out of the building for whatever reason and Padmé is like 'wdym it's canceled? The best man is here, and I can see other guests!'. The bride kinda panicks and hangs up, and Padmé flags Anakin down to ask what's going on.

He's also baffled because Obi-Wan didn't say it was cancelled, he's ready to get married and everything and he saw him about 10 seconds ago. They try to call the bride back but she doesn't answer, then they try to call another guest of the bride that Padmé knows. She answers and they learn that apparently the bride called in the morning and said that Obi-Wan had cancelled the wedding and dumped her at the last minute and they were each calling their half of the guests to tell them not to show up (which is clearly a bunch of lies from the bride).

They go and explain all of this to Obi-Wan who's confused and angry and heartbroken. He manages to get on the phone with the bride who properly dumps him, and by that time there's very little time before the ceremony was supposed to start. Most of the (Obi-Wan's) guests are there, and it's kind of (very) humiliating to have to go in front of all these people that he knows and tell them "wedding cancelled, I've been dumped, you can go home", and on top of that it wasn't a super cheap wedding so that sucks, and the catering is already ready so he'll have to throw away a ton of food? Not a great situation.

So Anakin has an idea: what if they get married instead? It's crazy so Obi-Wan tries to argue against it:

We can't get fake married! Then let's get real married!

People will still know I've been dumped and I'm pathetically trying to save face! None of the bride's guests will be there so i doubt it.

It was still her name on the wedding announcement. Okay then, maybe she dumped you like idk a month ago and I took the opportunity to declare my secret love for you!

And we got married less than a month later? It's hard and expensive as shit to cancel a wedding on such a short notice so we took the opportunity! It's not so unrealistic for me and I could probably convince you to do it.

But then we'll be married. Yeah, so? There are worst things in the world.

Obi-Wan is skeptical but not saying no yet, and Padmé is like 'honestly coming from anybody else I'd think they lost it, but from you two? I can see it. Not even sure I'd be all that surprised tbh'.

Obi-Wan's not having a great time and getting married to Anakin sounds a thousand times better than telling people what actually happened so he says fuck it let's do it.

They form a quick battle plan: Obi-Wan will go talk to the officiant to change the bride's name to anakin's (is it legally possible in any country? Probably not but let's pretend it is and that the marriage is still valid), Anakin will find them new best men/women (probably quinlan for obi-wan and ahsoka for anakin? Or padmé since she's already in the loop) and brief them on the situation, and Padmé will find a ring that fits Anakin (she borrows one of the guest's, maybe Owen Lars'?).

Only a few minutes late, they come out in front of all the guests, do a quick speech explaining the unexpected change (with a few lies of course), and the ceremony begins. Everything goes smoothly, Obi-Wan improvises very moving (and actually 100% honest) wedding vows, Anakin is crying and forgot they needed wedding vows but manages to put a few sentences together which are equally as honest as Obi-Wan's and make people cry too (they think he forgot his vows because of the emotion). They put the rings on each other, kiss and all of that, and when they leave the building they're both beaming so wide that it doesn't occur to anybody to be suspicious, the grooms look so happy and in love!

Then it's time for the reception and everybody has a great time, the grooms have a very sweet first dance, and they're all over each other the entire evening, how adorable! And if they disappear for a little while (Obi-Wan may be happy to get married to Anakin but he still just got dumped, so he may want to have a few minutes to breath in a quiet corner and get a good hug) then everybody assumes they're making out in a closet or something. Owen laughs at them for forgetting the rings (which is what he assumes is the reason they needed his ring), and they get a lot of friendly ribbing for 'keeping their wedding a secret' from pretty much everybody.

And maybe after a few drink they do really disappear to make out and decide that marrying your best friend that you've always kind of been into without ever admitting it is pretty amazing actually.

[uyuartik]

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

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (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), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

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

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

[jinn-exe]

ever since i heard temeura's version of Can't Take My Eyes Off of You, I've been thinking abt modern au codywan where they don't know each other but most of their friends or acquaintances have a mutual group. And they've never met once, not until cody's brother, Fox, gets married to Quinlan, and they're obviously the best man for their respective sides. Okay, so they dont meet during the rehearsal dinner either, bc obi-wans some type of special forces agent, and he missed it due to being off country, but he promises Quinlan he'll make it on the day of the wedding! Fast forward to the reception part, they're all having fun, drinking, dancing, and the general chaos that comes whenever there's a shit ton of Fetts in one social gathering. Anyway, the vocalist they hired for the live band ends up bailing, and they're immediately in an emergency family meeting bc whos going to sing now??? Of course, Rex perks up and says, "What about Cody?" And everyone agrees bc like why didnt we think of that?? And Cody VEHEMENTLY refuses, they're all tackling him to the ground begging, screaming, and using their younger brother privilege until finally, finally, Cody relents with a tired sigh. He goes on stage, and looks a bit flustered, but he ends up singing it anyway and everyones howling clapping cheering him on, and just as he gets to the part of, "Now that I found you, stay" his eyes land on one very attractive and equally curious Obi-Wan kenobi mouthing the lyrics. If Cody's voice wavered a little during the next line, no one noticed or bothered to care. The audience shouts for an encore and Cody has no other choice but to do it, and you can imagine it's a very long night, most of the guests have already made their way home and have trickled into a small crowd of family and close friends. Cody's disappointed bc he didn't get to speak to the handsome gentleman, but what he didn't expect to happen was to find the same man waiting for him at the hotel venue, grinning fondly as if they’ve known each other their whole lives.

[frostbitebakery]

Anything from Who Ordered The Resurrection Special please?

DO I! :D

“The war is over. What now?”

Ryloth’s mountains rise on the horizon with the setting sun.

Obi-Wan rubs at the corner of his eye, leans back on his other hand. The grass is tickling against his skin. Kashyyk’s vegetation has always been so soft and lush; it’s a balm that almost, almost makes him smile. “I’m afraid we’re not out of tasks to do yet, my friend.” Perhaps his tone is too sarcastic, too downtrodden. But the exhaustion is clamoring up his every nerve and muscle and strand of thought.

“You’re right,” his Commander agrees softly, small chuckle rounding the vowels, echoes of it flowing back from the cliffs. Geonosis is not a good resting place. “Even death can’t keep you away from work.”

It sounds too serious for a joke. “What do you mean?” he asks and turns his head towards—

Goda shakes him by the singed shawl, breath burning and fire. “The one who should have been didn’t care and now everyone is paying the price.” The hole in his gut sizzles, melts, and Obi-Wan frantically pulls at the bandages. “Stop them before—“

“Goda, please, hold on, yes?” They’re alone but they shouldn’t be. It had been carnage the last time. Goda pushing Obi-Wan into a fighter with his last breath, voice cold and droid-like when it wasn’t drenched in despair.

Goda’s glove smells like death as it brushes against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “We weren’t ever meant to be, were we?”

“Who—? Commander—“

“Your men.”

Obi-Wan wakes up.

Day 2

Wolffe hauls the backpack higher up on his shoulder, pulls the cap deeper into his face. “Sinker owes me. I’ll rig up the IV once I’m back.”

“I’m sure Nurse Rosa appreciates the nickname.”

Wolffe holds up his hands. “She’s the one who came up with it.” He slaps Cody’s shoulder before turning to the front door. “I’ll get something to eat, too,” he says, stepping through the door and into the faint morning light.

Cody leans against the door, closing it with his weight, and lets himself sigh deep and even.

Their plan is to put an IV into the zombie for electrolytes until his organs can handle digestion. Wolffe gets some supplies from the hospital since going there is still out of the question even though the zombie has drastically healed since the first moment he appeared. It’s not leathery skin stretched over bones and gnarled limbs anymore. He had almost looked fresh faced when Cody had helped him into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Very fresh faced. It’s easy now to imagine what he’ll look like once he’s fully alive again.

Cody’s cheeks turn warm and that’s enough of that.

Maybe Cody’s family is in a unique position when it comes to… the stranger side of life, and as a firefighter he’s certainly seen enough shit one can’t explain that easily. But he’d rather not make tinfoil hats in a padded room while the zombie is whisked off to be sliced and diced.

“Hel…lo…”

Perfect timing. Cody looks up to his unalive guest standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, looking lost in Cody’s borrowed clothes. “Oh, hey, you’re up!”

“…there.”

Cody blinks. “Where what?”

.

Cody has to think about that one for a minute. Which might give Obi-Wan the wrong impression about his family and Cody’s relationship to them but he’s not exactly thinking about them day and night anymore. Not now that they’re all adults with their own lives.

“My siblings mean everything to me,” Cody lands on, tipping a finger against the red MFD mug. “They didn’t have it easy growing up but they worked hard and,” he huffs out a laugh. He isn’t cynical usually but working hard to achieve dreams and success hasn’t been cutting it since before he was born. “Our father had some helpful connections so they could at least get a foot in the door.”

Cody refuses to publicly acknowledge the reality behind those connections for his siblings’ sake. He dug deep to uncover the truth behind Bly suddenly getting the scholarship of a lifetime, the top notch medical school of the country personally inviting Wolffe into their program.

Fox had fucked off to the Navy following his dream of reenacting the beach football scene in Top Gun. So it was up to Cody to ensure their father’s shady business wouldn’t bite them in the ass in the long run. Ponds had already paid the highest price for that. Boba—

“Boba is the oldest,” Cody starts, smile tugging at his mouth despite everything. He’s currently in jail for murdering my second oldest brother, Cody chooses not to say.

Obi-Wan tilts his head in interest but Cody moves right along.

“You met Wolffe,” he continues, grinning at Obi-Wan’s sigh. “Yeah, he has that effect on people.”

:

“I’m not here to hold people’s hands, Dr Koone,” Wolffe says reasonably.

The medical superintendent looks down at his hand being held by Wolffe and raises a bushy eyebrow around the breathing mask contraption covering most of his face.

“This means nothing.” Wolffe about had a heart attack when he got the news of the gas leak explosion rendering his mentor comatose. “It’s not my fault you like to live in a medical drama.”

Dr Koone pats his hand.

Wolffe sighs. “I’ll have Boost fluff your pillows. He’ll sneak in your ER novels.”

:

“I actually am not sure what Bly does,” Cody says slowly. “She got a bunch of doctorates hanging in her garage and her favorite hobby is making slime.”

:

Bly punches the end call button on the touchscreen with a growl. “No one lets me do anything around here!”

Cody blows on the spoonful of sauce before taking a careful sip. “They’re not going to fund you your own CERN, Bly.” A bit more oregano should do the trick.

“The things I could do with it!”

The alarm is about to go off and Cody stops it before the first beep. “Drain the spaghetti, please.”

Bly takes the huge pot over to the sink, hitting the cold water. “They act like I’m one inevitable lab accident away from becoming Doofenschmirtz.”

“They aren’t wrong.”

Bly whirls around, hands over her heart. “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me, Codes.”

“I love you no matter what doesn’t count at all, does it?”

His sister scoffs out a laugh and waves him away. “I already knew that, idiot.”

Cody shakes his head and announces to the station that lunch is ready.

:

“After Fox’s stint in the Navy and fulfilling that dream, he went on to the next one,” Cody explains and pauses.

:

“Please give a warm welcome to our special guest tonight,” the club host says into the mic. “His unapologetic attitude towards life and its wonders has firmly established his name in the poetry community worldwide.”

Cody is about to clap when he notices everyone around him snapping their fingers.

“I swear, all your lives are made purely out of 90s tropes,” he murmurs to Bly.

“You would know, old man.”

Fox slinks onto the stage in a tight fitting black turtleneck and board shorts, and grabs the mic. “Pain.” He stomps onto the floor once. “Spite.”

The crowd goes wild.

[squad-724]

Finally a dragon Anakin I’m happy with.

He’s like Siamese cats, that darken with time, mostly on the face and limbs

He’s a desert dragon, his egg stolen from Shmi, hatched during the transport to Nabooian Kingdom. Qui Gon, one of the dragons pulling the caravan, immediately started taking care of him, until Crimson, then Chancellor’s dragon, killed him. After the incident the humans thought the hatchling will be lost, until the adolescent Obi-Wan, Qui Gon’s ward, began taking care of Ani.

At 9 Chancellor took interest in the young dragon, tricking him into sharing his real name and thus being forced to do Sheev’s bidding. For the next ten years he had been isolated from other dragons and kept in the castle, not trusting any human and refusing to break. Only a full beskar harness and Palpatine’s words can make him do what he’s told

His claws had been cut too short (to not damage the castle’s floor) and is sleeping most of the time he’s not working. Anakin’s a real gem at parties, when drugged and restrained he can’t hurt any guests.

Many men have been injuried while in vicinity of the wild beast. Only when the Red Guard, lead by commander Fox, second prince of the Mandalore, arrived, some progress had been made

[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.

[kalak]

Luke skywalker centric fic rec list!

Before I rec: this is a self indulgent rec list, with fics that I personally liked. The tags before the summary are mostly from the ao3 tags, but some are added by me after having read the fic. Enjoy and let me know if something is amiss!

◇Lighthearted, humor, fluff

Small Talk by starshipsilmaril Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa & Darth Vader, child luke, fluff, 1k finished. On the annual Imperial Life Day ball, Luke and Leia are left unsupervised by their nanny. Of course, they promptly go and find their father, interrupting his conversation.

halfway, and before I even argue by OldEmeraldEye Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, 182 words finished. Being from a desert planet, Luke lacks a certain degree of experience with seafood. Leia is happy to help.

no one can stop me, not even gravity or nasa by magneticwave Leia organa/Han Solo, humor, 8k finished. “Fuck you,” Leia says. “Who said anything about getting married? Did Luke say anything about getting married?” “Luke is not involved,” Luke says, not looking up.

An Unwelcome Guest by bornofstars Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa & Darth Vader, child luke, fluff, 5k finished. Two thieves break into an innocuous looking apartment in Imperial City, expecting an easy raid. To their surprise, (and horror) they find it occupied with an infamous Sith Lord, and his two young children.

Fan Mail by evilmouse holonet, fluff, humor, 4k finished. Jedi Master Luke Skywalker answers some questions for his fan club. What could possibly go wrong?

A Little Help, Here? by vader_incarnate Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, humor, 1k finished. There’s a lot of things you just don’t learn, growing up on Tatooine and then spending young adulthood as a fugitive. But isn't that exactly what friends are for? Or: Han is flummoxed by Luke's lack of driving knowledge, but Anakin can commiserate.

Worlds Apart by StupidFatPenguin Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, fluff, humor, dimension travel, 5k finished. Owing to a failed attempt at clairvoyance through the Force, Luke is sent into an alternative universe where everything is the same... except, there are two toothbrushes in his refresher and a Mandalorian in his bedroom.

Civic Duty by rosepetalfall Owen Lars & Luke Skywalker & Beru Whitesun, Biggs Darklighter & Luke Skywalker, worldbuilding, 1k finished. Teenage Luke Skywalker grudgingly sits through one of Anchorhead Freeholding's bimonthly Council meetings and does his civic duty.

The Emperor Skywalker Conspiracy by loosingletters humor, outsider pov, memes, 3k finished. (Note: a media centric fic, so it's longer than 3k.) The Emperor is dead and so is Darth Vader. So. Uh. Who exactly inherits the Galactic throne? Or, the Holonet discovers the existence of one Luke Skywalker and promptly makes it a meme.

you knock me out, i fall apart by nintendoes Padme Amidala/Anakin Skywalker/Obi-wan Kenobi, fluff, slice of life, 64k unfinished. “The falling out, the drama, the violins playing in the background…” Ahsoka lays another card on the table. “He gets it all from Anakin.”( rather: non-linear moments in the lives of the skywalker clan. )

The Force Does Not Pick Favourites (Except When It Does) by PrinceJakeFireCake Luke Skywalker & the Force, grandpa force, fluff, 3k unfinished. Part of my Anakin Skywalker being a stay-at-home dad series, but separate so people who don’t want to read my strange theories on the Force being a grandparent don’t have to read it :D

Sith Lord Swell by AMournfulHowlInTheNight Luke Skywalker & Ben Solo, crack, time travel, outsider pov, 42k unfinished. "Well, looks like we're all Sith Lords, now. I hope you've all been practicing your most menacing laughter for our first run in with the Jedi Council." Why did Jedi politics and time travel have to be so difficult?

Darth Vader Has A Thing for Me? by captainofbrooklyn Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, crack, 2k finished. “Vader's disgusting, that’s what it is. I can’t work with a man with his...tastes.” “What tastes?” In which Luke Skywalker believes Darth Vader has a crush on him.

Waves by gayspacecowboy Luke Skywalker/Han Solo, fluff, 1k finished. Luke sees the ocean for the first time. Han has a startling realization.

A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away (series) by Bopdawoo Luke Skywalker/Wedge Antilles, fluff, slice of life, 1k finished. In the Skywalker-Antilles household, Luke is the one who deals with all the creepy-crawlies.

ferned habitation by deniigiq Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, emotional hurt/comfort, humor, 5k finished. Loth-cats were the worst idea. Din should have thought this out better. He should have gone back to the Tuskens and asked for the runtiest runt that ever had runted among the massiffs. At least those things had respect for their fellow cohabitants. These cats? Not a damn lick of respect to be found.

Sitting Ducks by SpellCleaver Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, outsider pov, 2k finished. There is a Rebel outpost on Naboo. Luke Skywalker has never seen wildlife the likes of which Naboo has to offer before. Somehow, that becomes an Imperial spy's problem.

◇ Angst, Hurt/comfort, character study

L.D. Helmet: The Early Years by Seasider Luke Skywalker & Red Five Helmet, 3k finished. L.D. (aka Red Five's helmet) has stories to tell about his former pilot-head and about the fateful day on Yavin when he meets his new head, Luke Skywalker. He's immediately feeling protective about the floofy blond hair.

From Orbit by astolat Luke Skywalker/Leia Organa/Han Solo, 4k finished. “You’ve got to quit doing this,” Han said. Luke glanced at him. “What?” Han made a wide impatient sweep of his arm. “This. Standing in the bay staring out into the void. It’s creepy, kid. Come on, it’s dinnertime. The fleet can make it into hyperspace without your personal supervision.”

After the Last War is won by Tenshi (external link) Luke gestured with his left hand, the other lost in the folds of his cloak, and perhaps in his mind he saw the former glory of the Temple, and not a maze of toppled columns, disfigured statuary, and sprawling Huttese graffiti. "It's where I belong."

for a hundred miles through the desert by wreckageofstars Luke Skywalker & Han Solo, angst, 6k finished. [“There's no water, on Tatooine,” Luke said finally. “I mean, no large bodies of water, like you have on other planets. Pools, lakes. Oceans. So,” he said, face carefully blank, like it so often was these days, “I never learned how to swim.”] Han has a hard time coming to terms with Luke's fall to the dark side during Dark Empire; so does Luke.

Luminescence by vader_incarnate Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, sith luke, major character death, 2k finished. They call him the Sun Lord, because he will not let them call him Emperor. After the Endor disaster, Princess Leia meets her brother for the last time, and the cycle begins anew.

That Place Where Darkness Dies by DragonflyonBreak Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, hurt/comfort, whump, 10k finished. Weeks ago, Luke Skywalker vanished without a trace.

Thaw by spqr Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, angst, hurt/comfort, 6k finished. That’s what hope does to you, Luke remembers now. It lingers at the back of your mind, whispering maybe, maybe, so that knowing a plan is stupid isn’t enough to keep you from trying it.

Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters Luke Skywalker & Mara Jade, Luke Skywalker & Cody, angst, suicidal thoughts, 8k finished. The Emperor made a clone of Luke Skywalker, who died as a mere five-year-old. The rest, as they say, was the Will of the Force.

fire building up inside by imadetheline Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, hurt/comfort, 6k finished. He’s not sure how long he stays in a daze, watching the ship spark and burn in the shallows, sand and smoke burning his eyes and lungs. Or: Luke crashes, and the planet's atmosphere is not exactly conducive to his survival.

Rat-at-at by FoiblePNoteworthy Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, dark, psychological torture, 4k finished. "You do not wish for my company,” Vader said. “I understand. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” “Wait!” Luke turned towards the door, nauseous horror seeping into him, just as it slid shut.

Mind Games by FoiblePNoteworthy Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, pov outsider, torture, 33k finished. Two truths and one lie: Luke Skywalker is still loyal to the Rebel Alliance. Luke Skywalker was gravely injured protecting them. Luke Skywalker is a spy.

the death of luke skywalker by peradi Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, Rey/Finn/Poe Dameron, major character death, 6k finished. Years after the revolution, some stories end. Others begin.

Waiting for The Love of a Traveling Soldier by Duck_Life Luke Skywalker/Biggs Darklighter, major character death, 1k finished. Biggs asks for Owen's blessing.

undeserving fall (this kind of sunlit love) by loosingletters Luke Skywalker/Sheev Palpatine, crack treated seriously, 9k finished. A Naboo proverb says that it takes seven steps to fall from grace or climb towards glory. Sheev had never understood why the fall wasn’t considered a victory, when he had fallen towards the dark side with laurels adorning his head. And then a Jedi Knight, who should be nothing more than a nuisance, accompanies him on a mission and Sheev finds himself wanting. (Note: the ship might make you raise an eyebrow but hear me out. This fic is actually great.)

A Hungry Growing Boy by FoiblePNoteworthy Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, monster luke, child luke, 3k finished. General Veers surveyed the latest roadblock; some sort of creature guarding the entrance to the smugglers’ lair.

◇Just the right length (around 10k words)

listen, there's a hell of a universe next door by storm_petrel Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, bamf luke, 12k finished. Luke Skywalker solves a number of life-or-death problems, makes some new friends, falls abruptly in love, and gets shot into space, all in the same day.

Master Skywalker: The Absolute Worst by PrinceJakeFireCake Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin/Boba Fett, humor, 8k finished. Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately. “You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said. Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”

Plain Sight by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, 11k finished. Luke is hiding from Darth Vader in the best place possible. Plain sight.

got my love jumpstarted by lacecat Rated E, Luke skywalker/Din Djarin, alternate universe - modern setting, 9k finished. Din frowns. “What are you talking about?” “I’m kind of famous,” Luke admits. (in which Luke is a celebrity, Din is not, and they both assume the same for the other)

Close Quarters by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, sickfic, fluff, 10k finished. Luke and Vader trapped in a subterranean city to wait out a snowstorm.

Professor Bug by spqr Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, alternate universe - academia, cults, 7k finished. “I saw your notes for your lecture on the Jedi Order,” Luke says quietly. “And I know you’re very good at what you do, babe, but I want you to know that like half of it is wrong.”

Tired Agents (series) by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, outsider pov, 15k finished. Spies are personable and agreeable, and hate the fact that their targets get into more trouble than they can handle. Also, gossip magazines have a better intelligence network than most intelligence agencies.

Relatively Forceful by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Wedge Antilles, eldritch luke, 9k finished. Being the offspring of the Force means more than anyone thought it was. Being half of an Eldritch being means being related to more than one Eldritch being. On a routine mission for the Alliance; Luke Skywalker runs into a semi-distant relation and a not so distant relation.

A Warrior Dance by twoseas Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, misunderstandings, 14k finished. Luke reacts strangely to Din’s bared face and an overheard conversation leads the Mandalorian to believe the Jedi thinks he’s ugly. Things spiral out of control from there.

Lurking Hunger by planningconquest horror, eldritch luke, 9k finished. Captain Tagett intends to collect the bounty on Luke Skywalker...provided they all can survive the night.

Separation by atamascolily Luke Skywalker/Callista Ming, daemon, 5k finished. Soft wings brushed against his face, then faded as Vel crawled down his shoulder. Her proboscis tickled his collarbone as she lapped at the sweat-stained edges of his coveralls, which had flopped free in his last desperate scramble from the Sand People into the unlikely sanctuary of the Eye of Palpatine's gun room. "A moth daemon?"

Five Days on Yavin by rinwins Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, 7k finished. He’d seen so many different versions of Luke by now-- implacable knight, patient teacher, fearless pilot, loyal friend; the Jedi master who could move a starfighter with his mind and the Tatooine farm boy who laughed at his own ridiculous jokes. And they were each, somehow, still the true Luke, none of them contradictory-- all except this version, the exhausted young man asleep in the bed.

Magic Baby / Lost Child by Seasider Luke Skywalker & Tusken Raider, Luke Skywalker & Owen Lars & Beru Whitesun, child luke, fluff, 9k unfinished. It was not The Demon. It was a baby. A baby from the Other’s species, yes, but it appeared incapable of harm. She shook it hard and it made a tiny squeak. Alive and with a spirit, when it should not be. No wilding had ripped it apart and consumed it. It appeared like a gift from Her of the Desert.

Present by WhatisWithin Luke skywalker & Darth Vader, fluff, 5k finished. Luke sometimes forgot how scary Daddy was to other people. It was a weird problem to have. And a stupid one too. He should remember that kind of stuff. Everyone was scared of Daddy. After being rescued by his father from the streets of Mos Espa, ten year old Luke adjusts to life on a Star Destroyer.

The Family Tree by frodogenic Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, 12k finished. In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...

The Monster in the Mist by SilverDaye Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, horror, eldritch luke, 10k finished. Ever since Luke first saw the image of Darth Vader on the holonews, he's been haunted by nightmares of a monster in a mist-filled landscape. He soon realizes that this monster is Darth Vader, who starts to hunt Luke in and out of the dreams.

sit down, breathe, and just listen by andfollowthesun Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, 13k finished. “Of course we’re married.” Anakin is blinking at the camera guilelessly. “We’ve been married since before the end of the Clone Wars. What are you on about?”

Compromising by samvelg Luke skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, outsider pov, 12k finished. Five times Admiral Piett misunderstands the nature of Luke and Vader's relationship, and the one time he doesn't.

◇Solid plot, nice way to spend the evening

Repair by BananasAreForParties Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, hurt/comfort, whump, fluff, 20k finished. Mara Jade came to Aran to trade. She acquires nutcakes, Imperials, and one Luke Skywalker, condition: damaged. (Note: ugh this one's so good)

Inherited Royalty by planningconquest Luke Skywalker & Owen Lars & Beru Whitesun, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, angst, hurt/comfort, major character death, 42k finished. Prince Luke Palpatine flees into the dark of the night when Lord Vader mounts an assault on the Imperial Palace. Lord Vader searches endlessly for the missing prince.

Sibling Revelry by frodogenic Leia organa & Luke skywalker, Darth Vader & Luke skywalker, humor, 24k finished. After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. Especially since Imperial Intelligence just told him that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected...

Limpet AU (series) by frodogenic Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Darth Vader & Firmus Piett, Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, fluff, humor, 89k finished. Newly returned from the Unknown Regions with Darth Vader, Admiral Piett doesn't expect much of a welcome from the New Republic. And not in a million lifetimes would he have predicted that their very first guest would be Luke Skywalker. After all, Skywalker and Vader are still mortal enemies...right? (Note: highly recommend. This series is amazing.)

I’m Here to Rescue You by Tairona Biggs Darklighter & Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker, sickfic, 29k finished. Unbeknownst to Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi has saved his life more than once. And unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, today is the day when Luke will pay him back in kind.

Strange Bedfellows (series) by celinamarniss Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, fluff, action, 37k finished. Luke joins Mara (and her crew) on a not-date in the Penumbra Sector to watch the popular, dangerous, and very illegal Ewok swoop races. Trouble, as it always does, finds them.

I Am Almost Certain You Shouldn't Put That In Your Mouth by foldingfacets Luke Skywalker & Han Solo & Leia Organa, autistic luke, 73k unfinished. Luke has always put things in his mouth. It just felt right. When Darth Vader sees his son with the lightsaber in his mouth at Bespin, he's absolutely terrified that Luke found out Vader was his father and was going to kill himself.

Luminous Creatures by celinamarniss Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, daemon, 30k finished. Luke is the last of his friends to have his dæmon settle. Speculation drifts through his childhood. What sort of animal do you think your dæmon will choose? asked by adults with indulgent smiles and between children as their dæmons flit from form to from in impromptu races across the desert sand.

Nub Saar by JediMordsith Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, whump, horror, 21k finished. If taking on a derelict space station and unknown Dark presence are what it takes, he's there... except that the Darkness wants Mara, too. How far is each side willing to go to have her? They're about to find out.

Deathmark by SpellCleaver Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Beru Whitesun, alternate universe - fantasy, amnesia, 38k finished. In a world torn apart by magic, necromancy and war, Luke wakes up in a strange place with a strange mark on his chest and no idea how he got there. Some people recognise him and some people want to help him. Others do not.

where you plant a rose (a thistle cannot grow) by Icarus_is_flying Luke Skywalker & Obi-wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa, child luke, 48k unfinished. Leia knows exactly who she is--princess, Organa, rebel in training. But when she stumbles onto a strange boy in a hidden garden, their instant connection draws her into a house full of secrets. Secrets Luke is reluctant to share.

Legally Blind and a Menace to Society by foldingfacets Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Leia Organa & Han Solo, blind luke, 21k unfinished. Luke Lars, a visually impaired teen, left Tatooine after landing a prestigious job as Assistant to the Royal House of Alderaan through accidental-yet-convenient means instead of trying to get into the Imperial Academy. Darth Vader is very loath to admit that he has, Force forbid, a friend -- one that he didn't quite choose but is stuck with nonetheless.

Between Flight and Longing by Sheila_Snow Luke Skywalker & Han Solo & Darth Vader, hurt/comfort, 50k finished. Attempting to find a cure for a critically ill Luke, Han travels to a backwater planet in the armpit of the galaxy, piloting an aging freighter discarded by the Alliance because it was unsafe to fly. With time running out for Luke, Han figures things couldn't get much worse. He's been known to be wrong before.

Retirement (series) by celinamarniss Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, old married couple, outsider pov, 20k finished. Jedi apprentice Asha is sent on a quest to find the legendary Luke Skywalker. She thought he was a myth!

Under the Cover of Darkness by randomlyimagine Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, time travel, 57k finished. (note: it's finished, but it's kinda left on a cliffhanger and continued into a sequel, which is unfinished.) Being sent back in time, getting to see the Old Jedi Order, Ben, his Father…it was an opportunity Luke had never dreamed he’d have. If only he and Mara hadn’t been pulled back in the middle of a mission where they were undercover as Sith.

nursery 'verse (series) by philthestone Luke skywalker/Mara Jade, fluff, 75k finished. Han and Leia decide to build a nursery in the Falcon. Things progress from there. AU for the EU.

In Loco Pirates by izzythehutt Luke skywalker & Darth Vader, humor, 34k finished. A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize.

Memento Mori by planningconquest, Slx99 Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, angst, 13k unfinished. After deposing of his former master, only one thing stands in Vader's way to absolute power: the young Prince Luke Palpatine. But there is a lot that Vader does not know about the prince.

◇ Long. Will make you lose track of time

The Son of Suns trilogy (series) by blank101 (Into the Storm, In Shadows and Darkness, At the Brink of the Dawn and the Darkness) Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade, sith luke, whump, angst, 148k/254k/319k finished. When Darth Vader's plan to turn Luke is rebuffed he falls back on more desperate measures and hands his son over to Palpatine, who begins to systematically take apart Luke’s life to create a new Sith, turning him against his allies, his father and his beliefs with devastating consequences for both the Empire and the Alliance, as events cascade beyond anyone's control. (Note: fucking love this trilogy.)

Force Bond (series) by kittandchips Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, teenage Luke, fluff, major character death, 858k finished. This series is an AU about Vader raising a teenage Luke. Or, Vader has his orderly expectations of parenthood repeatedly destroyed by the bundle of adventure and love that is his offspring. Luke dares anyone to suggest they have problems when his father is a Sith Lord who works for evil incarnate.

Missing and Presumed Dead by LadyVader23 Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, whump, hurt/comfort, 219k finished. Three months after ESB, Luke Skywalker is still reeling from the revelation of his parentage. When he finally cracks and tells Leia, she comes up with a plot to get Darth Vader off his back: stage his death.

What Lurks in the Dark by DragonflyonBreak Luke Skywalker & Wedge Antilles, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, horror, whump, 89k unfinished. A simple mission to check out an abandoned weapons factory turns into a dangerous fight for survival. Trust is broken, loyalties will be tested, and dark secrets are brought to light. Because sooner or later, the truth always comes out.

The Heir by SpellCleaver Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke skywalker & Sabé, angst, fluff, 105k finished. Darth Vader just killed his master and learned a galaxy-changing truth: the child Palpatine adopted, the Imperial prince and heir, is actually Vader’s son, raised by Palpatine to torment him.

Tell Me About Your Mother by OffBrandLightsaber Luke Skywalker & Sabé, 147k finished. “Luke Amidala. Is that any relation to the Naberrie family?” She asked, looking up and meeting Luke’s eyes. It's a Luke is raised by Sabé AU!

In The Faces Of Our Children by soulshrapnel Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin/Darth Vader, Wilhuff Tarkin/Natasi Daala, co-emperors tarkin and vader, post-anh au, 109k finished. Surprised by Emperor Vader on what should have been a routine training mission, and prompted by a strange impulse in the Force, Luke Skywalker surrenders to save his friends. Vader seems strangely uninterested in hurting him, but Luke doesn't know how long that will last, or just what to expect. He's definitely not expecting "I am your father."

The New Sith Order by Chi-chi-chimaera (gestalt1) Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker & Various Inquisitors, dark luke, 334k finished. Ten year old Luke Skywalker has no chance of fighting back when two Imperial Inquisitors stumble across him on an accidental visit to Tatooine. His family dead and nameless as any other stolen child, the only way to survive is to excel in his Dark Side training and become a fully fledged Inquisitor.

all the echoes fade by aradian_nights Luke Skywalker/Ezra Bridger, dimension travel, slow burn, 453k unfinished. Luke's exploration of some old Jedi ruins goes terribly wrong after he meets a strange man named Ezra. He finds himself in another world where his father and mother are very much alive, and, unfortunately, so is the Empire.

Back from the Future: Episode VI The Clone Wars by Ariel_Sojourner Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, time travel, 108k finished. In which Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader travel back in time together to the Clone Wars era, have amazing adventures, and save the galaxy.