"Apology Accepted" 1/1
Author: Celeste L'Pauvre
Disclaimer: I borrow, George owns
Rating: NC-17
Archive: if ya want
Feedback: I'd really appreciate it. I haven't written one of these in
awhile. Should I write more of them?

You wander through the indoor market near the Jedi Temple. It's been quite
some time since you were here last. You sense a familiar movement in the
Force and spy the cause among the crowd ahead. You smile wickedly to
yourself and pull one of your recently purchased miyati fruits out of your
bag. You wait, arm cocked, for a path to open between you and your target.
There! You lob the small orb at the man's head, ducking quickly behind a
nearby booth. Not a moment too soon, he reaches up and plucks it from the
air.

"Ah, my favorite," he says nonchalantly, taking a bite. His lips work
against the succulent morsel as he sucks the juice from it.

"Curses, foiled again," you mutter. The sudden sense that it isn't just the
fruit in his hand that his tongue's stroking overwhelms you. In your mind's
eye you can clearly see the top of his head, smell the distinctive clove and
sandalwood he exudes, feel the long red strands of his hair sweeping across
the sensitive skin of your breast as he teases your nipple. You gasp and
shake your head, /Full sensory hallucinations, just what I need./ You turn
on your heel and stalk back towards the Temple, certain you can hear his
distinctive grumble of a laugh echoing in your mind.

Twenty years since you saw him last. Twenty years of constant misses. You'd
finally get back to Coruscant and he'd be on the other side of the galaxy.
He'd be on his way in and you'd have already left. He was alternately your
arch enemy and your best friend during your pre-Padawan days, right up until
you'd been chosen by Master Parz Falhalfa and taken to the gods(and everyone
else)forsaken Gothara system. Nothing but the occasional outdated letter
keeping the friendship alive. And now here you were. Back on Coruscant to
take the Temple's trials for Knighthood and be recognized officially as what
you'd been declared a decade ago. And here he was. A grown man, tall and
handsome, the occasional holo you saw doing him little justice. You sigh a
little, flashing back on the boy who'd thrown an overripe miyati fruit at
you as you were boarding the transport to Gothara, patronizing, "You should
always be mindful of the Living Force." Brat.

When you finally stomp into your room, several errands later, a blinking
comm light awaits you. You don't notice the pips until you've sat down and
hit the switch to play the message: "I enjoyed it very much. Brought back
memories. Are you free for dinner tonight?" You pick up one of the miyati
seeds. This time the hallucination is a little more forceful: one hand in
your unruly curls, pulling you in for a kiss, the other hand sliding under
your tunics then around and down the back of your trousers, cupping your
ass. You take a deep breath, your decision made.

A short time later, he answers the door as though he were standing, just
waiting for you to hit the chime. He takes your hand, gently turning it up,
kisses your palm, pulls you into his quarters. His smile warms you in places
you'd never thought possible. "It's good to see you. It's been a long time."

"It has. You've grown up." You immediately regret your inane statement but
he justs laughs.

"As have you," he chuckles, reaching out to run his lightly callused fingers
through your hair. His hand traces down your face, continues downwards along
your neck, lightly brushing your breast. "Into quite a beautiful woman."

A little nervous, you joke, "What? You were expecting a rancor or
something?"

"I expected nothing less than what I see before me." He holds you with his
cerulean blue eyes. The laughter is there but so is something more.

You reach out with the Force tentatively, hoping you're right. You're not
particularly surprised to feel your desire reciprocated. Still, your pulse
quickens when he pulls you into an embrace.

"I've thought of you all day," he whispers against your lips. He kisses you
chastly at first, then with an increased urgency, his tongue darting into
your mouth, claiming yours.

Your hands worry at his belt buckle, wanting it undone, wanting the belt and
all his other clothes on the floor at your feet. Your own belt hits the grey
carpet first. Your tunics follow quickly after. You stand there topless and
frustrated. "Take that off!" You demand, breaking the kiss and pointing at
his belt.

"As you wish, milady," he says, slowly working the clasp loose. You know he
wants to feel your skin against his as much as you do, but some part of the
boy he was wants to draw out the wait as long as possible. "Patience," he
chides. The accursed belt had only just begun to slide from his fingers when
you ran your hands across his shoulders, pushing his tunics away to expose
golden flesh. He freed his arms and wrapped them back around you.

You can feel his iron hardness through both layers of trousers. You want to
feel it other places: in your hands, in your mouth, in your...."Still too
much cloth," you murmur against his lips, hands fluttering at the drawstring
of his pants. You pluck the bow loose and down the fabric goes, revealing
his glorious cock. You reach to take it in hand.

"Not yet," he sighs. He unties the front of your pants and begins to slide
them over your hips. He drops to his knees as he does, lips and tongue
dancing against your hypersensitized skin. He lifts your feet one at a time
out of the pantlegs, leaving your feet further apart than they had been. He
looks up at you, hands stroking your butt, asking for permission.

You raise your hands from his broad shoulders to caress his face, you smile.
He leans forward, tongue snaking between your thighs to stroke the wetness
there. He finds your clit almost immediately, sending a shiver through your
entire body.

You tilt your head back, gasp with pleasure. Your fingers twine in his hair,
spasming involuntarily when he slips a finger into you. Slowly at first with
just the one, then he adds another finger, the rhythm increasing then
slowing again. Your knees grow weak, your legs refuse to support you as a
huge climax rips along your nerves. He catches you as you fall, lowering you
gently, slowly, to the floor in front of him. He shifts his position,
looming over you, long hair tickling your breasts as he lowers his face to
kiss your forehead, your cheek, your chin, your neck. He hovers over one
tit, knowing what the auburn strands were adding to your pleasure. He darts
down, sucking in the hard nipple, rolling it lightly between his teeth, lips
working against your skin just like they had against the fruit, just like
they had in your vision. Another orgasm racks your body. As he switches
breasts, running his short beard the distance between them, the chuckle you
had thought was merely hallucination earlier began in earnest in your mind.
Before he gets a firm grip on your other nub, you grab his ears and force
him to look at you.

"Enough playing with me," you say roughly as you try to roll him under you
to give him much the same treatment he'd been giving you.

He let his weight settle against you, pinning you in place while he grasps
your hands, gently uncurling your fingers from around his ears. /No. This
time is for you/ he thinks at you, kissing you deeply, his manhood rubbing
against your inner thigh. He lets go of your hands, freeing his to roam
along your sweat slicked lines once more.

You know he's beginning to hurt with his own need for release, you take him
firmly in hand. /Then take me!/

He allows you to guide his throbbing member into position. With the initial
thrust, he's in to the hilt. You wrap your legs around his rocking hips,
toes pointed and hips raised to allow greater sensation and even deeper
penetration. The rhythm he's set is slow then fast then slow again, a slight
twist with each inward motion, catching that one spot that makes you whimper
with pleasure. You feel yourself nearing climax again, you flex your inner
muscles, wanting to bring him with you to completion. His breathing becomes
more ragged, his thrusts more insistent. He throws his head back, sweat damp
hair flicking over his shoulders, as you both come. In that golden moment,
he looks into your eyes, speaking volumes without saying or thinking a word.
He holds himself above you a little longer, hips grinding lazily against
your favorite bundle of nerves. He smiles as you go over the edge one last
time and holds himself in you until the shaking stops and you let go of the
carpet. He slowly withdraws from you and stretches on the floor alongside
your body, rolling you to face him.

Propped up on one elbow, he smoothes your hair out of your face. "I'm sorry
about throwing fruit at you," he says, grinning sheepishly.

You gape at him, too stunned to even think. You throw your head back and
laugh until tears roll down your cheeks. "All this was just an apology?" You
ask in disbelief.

"'Just?'" The look on his face, crestfallen, stops your laughter cold.
You stare into each others eyes, equally unreadable, until he smiles
impishly. He claims your mouth in another deep kiss. He lets his mental
shields down just enough to let you know. /Never 'just' anything/

/If this was an apology for the miyati, what are you going to do about the
rugburns on my..../ His chest rumbles against yours with his laughter as he
holds you to him while he rolls onto his back.

"For my next 'apology,' I'll let you be on top."

You laugh, "We'll see...."