Obi-Wan walked down the hallway with just a bit of urgency. He wasn't lying about his appointment, and certainly didn't want to chance upsetting her. His master was well entertained for the evening; he hoped the same for himself.

The door opened quietly and he stepped inside, surveying the room. In contrast, this room was little brighter, though not by much. He called out, "Hello…" then found himself pinned to the back wall by a force wave.

"You're late," she said, moving quickly to stand in front of him.

"I'm sorry, I…" he started before she silenced him with a kiss.

"I don't want to hear it Ben.," she answered, tearing his brown robe from his body.

He grinned then, knowing where this conversation was headed. "I brought you something," he said, holding out the small box he carried.

She waved it away, dropping it onto the nearby table. "It can wait." He started to protest but was silenced again by her mouth.

"Gods, I've missed you Ben," she said, nipping his skin as she eased the tight cloth off his legs. He leaned back against the wall, letting the sensation wash over him.

"I've missed you too," he murmured, running his hands through her hair. She was sucking his nipples then, nibbling them lightly enough to give him shivers. Soon he stood nude in front of her, with her mouth dangerously close to his already throbbing shaft. She gave it a swift stroke with her tongue, then stood again in front of him, hand on his neck bringing his mouth down hard on hers.

Ravished, he thought, I'm being ravished. Her roaming hands traced designs on his back, cupping his butt, tracing their shape with her nails. She pulled him away from the wall and threw him into the nearby divan. He'd barely caught his breath when she was on him again, her tongue exploring his mouth, her wetness rubbing against his shaft. She caught his hands in hers and brought them to her breasts, stroking herself with an urgency that bordered on madness. Then she was in his mind.

Do you like this? she asked softly.

Yes. Gods, yes. he answered.

She tore away from him again, smiling sensuously. He tried to speak but she halted him each time with a kiss. Deciding there would be time enough to talk later, he sat up quickly and caught her nipple between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue. She pulled him close then, urging him to suckle, running wild fingers through his hair. This lasted a few moments more, then she took control again, forcing him back to a reclining position and taking his shaft in her mouth. He clawed the divan as she swept long wet strokes along him, swirling her tongue around the ruby head, then plunging it into the hot wetness of her mouth. Her rhythm set, she sucked him hard, cupping and teasing his sac with talented fingers.

"I can't…" he said between ragged breaths. She'd never been this wild with him, not that he cared anymore. He wanted to bury himself in her; he needed to. She sensed this and pulled away slowly, then guiding him into her in one smooth stroke. He shouted then, not caring who heard him. She pinned his arms to the divan, riding him deep and hard. She teased him with swift kisses, biting his jaw, kissing the cleft in his chin. He could barely control himself, bucking his hips up to meet hers. She felt his climax building swiftly and urged hers along.

They came together, muffling their cries with each other's mouths. Slick with sweat, they collapsed in a heap, rolling onto the carpeted floor.

"Shara…" he started.

She placed a finger against his lips. "That's what you get for being late," she said softly.

"I should be late more often," he teased.

"No you shouldn't," she giggled. "You'd never survive."

He caught her hand then and brought it to his lips. "I apologize for my tardiness."

She traced his lips with a delicate finger. "How do you plan on making amends?"

He smiled. "With this."

Using the force, he called the box to his outstretched hand and presented it to her.

She took it and opened it slowly. She then smiled wickedly and got to her feet. "I'll be right back," she said, running into the next room. He sat up, hearing a cabinet door open, then close and watched her walk back to him with a small black bundle and two washcloths. Handing the bundle and a cloth to him she said, "You first."

He took them from her and smiled. He ran the washcloth over her glowing skin then said, "Lie back." She did, watching him from beneath her lashes. He ran a practiced hand over her body once more, opened the bundle she'd handed him and said, "Relax."

The slash of blue bisected her body from shoulder to hip. She looked at him with startled amusement.

"I brought you my brushes for a reason Ben," she scolded. "Why are you using your fingers?"

"I’ve always loved finger painting and especially given the canvas…," he drawled.

She giggled then, closing her eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You’ve already had your fun," he said. "Let me have mine."

Obi-Wan dipped his fingers again into the paint box, taking more blue and a little white this time. He had picked them up on the last mission, not knowing exactly when he’d use them. Master Qui-Gon found them and suggested them for his evening, but alas, there was no time left for it. His loss, Obi-Wan decided.

He started this next bit of color at the opposite shoulder and slowly wound it down between her breasts, then up to the other shoulder. The paint came off a bit heavy, and he used the palm of his hand to smear the color on her skin until it blended into the first line. Not as bright as he hoped, but then he was not the artist she was.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Patience, my young padawan," he said, echoing his master. "After all we have all night."

"No, we had all night," she corrected. "You were late."

He covered her mouth with paint covered fingers. "Shhh." He then pulled his mouth away and stifled his laughter at the blue handprint on her face.

She caught him by the braid and pulled him to her, kissing him hard. He pulled back and saw her smiling. "There, now we match." Obi-Wan touched his chin, then gave her a wicked smile. She bit her own lip to keep from laughing, then gave him a puzzled grin. "These taste…"

"I know," he answered. "They’re completely edible and non-staining. Now shush and let me finish my work." He dipped his fingers into the box again. "Close your eyes, and no peeking." She complied, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.

"You can open your eyes now."

She did hesitantly and glanced at her paint covered body. He’d done a beach scene, or rather tried to. The colors were thick and uneven, and he wore just as much paint on his cheeks and forehead as she did on her breasts. Not that it mattered. He smiled at her, very proud of his handiwork. "Well, do you like it?" he asked.

She sat up slowly and smiled. "Very much," she answered, and pressed a kiss on his still blue lips. He tasted the berry flavor and licked at her tentatively. She bit his lip, savoring the sweetness. She wanted to pull him full length against her body, but he pushed her gently away.

"Your turn now," he said handing her the box.

She brushed his hand away. "In a moment." She pushed him onto his back, and stroked him softly with teasing fingers. He saw a devilish glint in her eyes, but ignored it. She started to lower herself onto his body full length when he caught her hips slowly.

"You’ll smear my picture," he chided. "You’ll have to find some other way to amuse yourself."

She smiled. "Oh, I think I’ll manage." She took the other wash cloth and dipped it into a nearby water pitcher. Wringing it out slightly, she slowly began to wash him, drawing the wet cloth over his shoulders gently, then blowing on them lightly to dry it. "First of all you need to prime the canvas. That way you create a medium for the paint to adhere to." She moved slowly to his chest, pausing only to wet the cloth again. "If the balance is off, no matter how spectacular the canvas, the painting will suffer." She swirled the cloth, teasing his nipples lightly, gently and smiled when they hardened under the cool stream of air. Going back to the pitcher, she wet the cloth again and began to wash his stomach, smiling as he squirmed. She washed his hips and thighs then, ignoring his already hard shaft. She paid especially close attention to his feet, smiling at his laughter, and ignoring his protests. She set the cloth aside then, and surveyed her handiwork.

"You missed a spot," he noted. She smiled wickedly then.

"No I didn’t," she said, taking him into her mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned, throwing his head back. She started very slowly, torturing him with her tongue, nipping at him with her teeth. He started to thrust up into her mouth. She matched his rhythm for a few moments, then pulled away quickly.

Before he could protest, she swiftly mounted him, sighing over his deep moan. He clutched at her breasts, streaking the paint, and pulled her on top of him. She pressed her body full length against him and swallowed his shout as he poured himself into her. He was still bucking against her when he felt her soft voice in his mind. Relax…

The sun poured into the room from the window Qui-Gon had opened in an attempt to wake his apprentice. "Obi-Wan," he said, "We will be late for our meeting."

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, then answered clearly, "Yes Master. My apologies. I must have overslept." He was on his stomach in his own bed. How did I get back here? he wondered. He started to rub his eyes with his open hand when he saw the paint.

Qui-Gon said quietly and not without amusement, "She was not upset by your tardiness?"

Obi-Wan wasn’t listening, instead staring at his hand. It was covered with painted green leaves on a vine that coiled around his wrist, up his arm and over his shoulder. Turning to the other hand, he saw blue water washing over it, in a similar pattern. "Master…" he started quietly, his cheeks starting to redden.

"You’ve fire on your left foot and wind on your right," Qui-Gon answered. "In the middle of your back is a bright light, my guess symbolizing the Force and the balance it creates." He stroked his beard, nodding his head. "Quite a nice mural." Then not bothering to hide his amusement, "Much better than the handprint on your face." Obi-Wan sat up quickly, running hesitant fingers over his face. Qui-Gon’s eyes widened, and seemed to choke, coughing quite loudly. "You have twenty minutes, my padawan," he said backing out of the room quickly. His laughter echoed in moments later.

Obi-Wan leapt out of bed, grabbing his towel on the way to the shower. He then caught his reflection in the mirror. She’d made a print of his beach scene on his body, but then filled in one detail. She painted eyes and a large smile on the sun in the middle of his chest.

Obi-Wan couldn’t explain his smile or Master Qui-Gon’s amusement when they appeared before the council later that morning. Not that they tried. Or wanted to for that matter.

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction written in appreciation of Star Wars; to promote the franchise and to keep it alive. All characters and settings original to Star Wars are copyright to Lucasfilm, Ltd. The rest is copyright to the author.