Archive: All lists, if you want this fluff.
Summary: You jump the Padawan's car, the Padawan jumps you.
Thanks to: Obi-Wan for being such a tempting fuck-monkey, and my roommate for not calling 911 on me twenty minutes ago when I jumped up and screamed, "HOLY FUCKABLE PADAWAN, BATMAN!" in a fit of rage.

At first you are determined to ignore the car. You learned long ago that a young woman, driving alone after dark, usually shouldn't pull over to help strangers who are stranded beside the road. Although it isn't particularly neighborly, it's good sense--and after one of the girls in your class met with an unfortunate accident after pulling over to help out an attractive hitchhiker, you made a promise to yourself never to put yourself in the same position.

However, slowing down to inch past the broken down car that's sitting more in the middle of the road than on the side, you are forced to reconsider your decision when you see a familiar head of spiky blond hair peeking out of the hood, braid swinging around to catch on the latch and tangle. The man let out a curse, long fingers trying to disentangle his hair from the hood of the car as his eyes move to watch you drive past.

Half a mile down the road, you realize what you just drove past. It's not Halloween--or fan-day--so chances are it wasn't a remarkably well disguised Fanboy--and it's equally unlikely that Ewan McGregor is sitting on a back country road in the Midwest, dressed like a Jedi. Knowing it's foolish, you still turn the car around and decide to take another pass.

Smoke is coming out of the engine now, and the young man has resorted to kicking the tire weakly and swearing. He turns as he hears your car approaching, casting you a look of silent entreaty. It's dark. I'm alone. I don't have a phone to call for help. He's dressed like Obi-Wan Kenobi--chances are he's probably a little odd.

Of course, one look at those FM boots, and you find yourself pulling over to the side of the road a few feet down from him, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"There is probably a reasonable explanation for this," you say out loud, looking over behind you to where the Padawan-look-alike is leaning against the trunk of the broken down car, arms crossed over his chest and one foot braced on the rear bumper, giving you yet another tempting glance at those obnoxiously sexy boots.

Telling yourself that this is probably just a weird dream anyway, you climb out of the car and head towards the man slowly, making sure you can still bolt back to the car if he proves to be a Fanboy who decided that this was the best way to pick up Chicks.

As you get closer, the resemblance to your fantasy-Padawan doesn't fade. As far as you can tell, you are approaching the entirely fuckable Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . on a dark road in the middle of nowhere.

His first words surprise you. "Where did you get those clothes?"

You look down at your jeans and T-shirt, baggy and slightly grimy since you've spent the last eleven hours driving from home back to college after a short vacation. "Ummm . . . Target?" you respond, slightly confused.

"I mean, you blend in with these primitives so--" The Obi-Wan-Clone looks at you narrowly. "Wait, aren't you a Padawan?"

"Huh?" you respond brightly. His hand darts out before you can flinch back, locking around the Padawan braid your Sisters in Forcehood convinced you to cut half a year before Episode 1 came out. "Why else would you have a Padawan braid?"

"Umm . . . it's kind of a long story. Look, can I ask you what you're doing here?" Not the most polite thing to say to what appears to be a Jedi--but you're still relatively sure that one of you is crazy--and you'd rather it were him.

"Qui-Gon and I are supposed to be checking this planet out for the Republic--but I have to say that I really don't think they are technically advanced enough to keep up with the rest of the galaxy." The young Padawan tilts his head back towards the car, still sitting in the middle of the road. "Take these transports, for instance. They're really rather odd."

"Where is Master Qui-Gon?" you ask, rather calmly you believe.

"He's resting at the hotel. He had a rather nasty experience this evening, so I was going to go and get him dinner so he wouldn't have to go outside again." Obi-Wan grimaces slightly, leaving you to wonder exactly what kind of an experience the Master had. Obi-Wan doesn't leave you wondering for long, however. "We went to see one of their primitive holovids--you know the two-dimensional ones."

"Yes, I know--they call them movies."

"Movies," Obi-Wan repeats, leaning back against the car again. "Yes, well--we went to a rather odd one. Star Fights, or Star Battle, something odd like--"

"Star Wars?" you choke out, taking in Obi-Wan's tunic, pants, and lightsabre. "You went dressed like that?" Of course, you suppose that people are used to a few freaks showing up in costume--but probably not ones who look identical to those in the picture.

"No, no . . . we had some of the local costumes on. I guess we arrived rather late to the picture. Have you seen it before?"

"Star Wars?" you ask again. At Obi-Wan's nod, you consider what to say. 'Sixteen times' would probably sound a little odd, so you decide to simply nod. "Yes, I've seen it."

"It's the oddest thing--they obviously know about Jedi, since it is about Jedi, but they had some that really rather resembled Master Qui-Gon and myself. I believe they even had our names."

Well, that explains Qui-Gon's shock, you think. If they recognized the characters as looking like them, what would he have thought when he saw The Mistake?

"Well, Master Qui-Gon felt a little odd at the end," Obi-Wan continues, oblivious to your wide-eyed stare, "--the man with his name did not meet up with a happy ending--" You wince visibly, muttering angrily out of habit about that scene.

"Excuse me?" Obi-Wan is looking at you rather oddly now.

"Nothing. What were you saying?" You try to give Obi-Wan your full attention, which is proving rather difficult. Well, not difficult exactly--but the wrong parts of your body seem to be giving him their full attention.

"Well as if the movie wasn't odd enough, we were standing up to leave and this woman just threw herself at him, sobbing and crying and saying over and over, 'I knew it was a mistake.'" Obi-Wan grins mischievously, making you wonder if your knees are going to continue holding up for much longer. "Qui-Gon could never stand to see someone upset, so he took her back to the hotel to try and calm her down."

"What was her name?" you ask casually. Having seen no small number of your friends leaving the theater gibbering with tears, you wouldn't be surprised if you knew Qui-Gon's assailant.

"Hmm . . Aloysius, I believe."

You attempt to stifle a giggle, imagining Aloysius being led back to a hotel room by the Master. If that man thinks he's going to be calming her down, he's in for a very entertaining surprise.

"Yes, I rather gathered that from the way she was looking at him." Obi-Wan responds to your thought as if you'd spoken it out loud, making you blink. He smiles again, giving your padawan braid another tug. "Well, even if you aren't a Padawan, how about a little help here? You seem to be doing better with your transport than I am with mine."

It only takes you a few moments to figure out what is wrong with the old car Obi-Wan was attempting to drive--it is flat out of gas--although how he managed to get the engine to start emitting black smoke you're not quite sure.

"I don't think there's anything I can do with it here," you say as you close the hood of the car. "If you could get it off of the road, I could give you a lift to wherever you need to be, and then someone could come get it for you tomorrow."

"That won't be too much of a problem," Obi-Wan responds, smiling. You had assumed he'd wave his hand around, toss it off the road with the Force or something. Oh no. Obi-Wan has apparently decided that you deserve a show for being so helpful. Grinning widely, he calmly undoes his belt and strips off his tunics, handing them to you before flexing casually.

Even in the faint moonlight, his well formed muscles are very obvious. He stares at you for a few moments before turning, tossing out the suggestion, "You might want to breathe," over his shoulder with a wink, and beginning to push the car off of the street.

Breathe. Yeah. With the half-naked Padawan showing off his muscles and his very attractive butt. You've got so many more important things to do than breathe. Like remain standing.

By the time the car is off the side of the road, Obi-Wan has worked up a decent sweat, and you've realized that breathing and blinking are both necessary functions of your body--but you can't seem to do either as you stare at the play of muscles accented by the moonlight.

Not even bothering to reclaim his tunics, Obi-Wan gives you one of those looks--the look that reminds you that he can read thoughts and yours have been less than PG lately. Trying to ignore the automatic response in several parts of your body, you open the door and start to get into the car, only to smack your head on the door frame when you're distracted by the sight of the Padawan stretching, his arms reached up over his head and his back arched. You're so entranced by the powerful play of muscle under tan skin that you don't even realize you're falling until it's too late to stop.

You find yourself sitting on the ground next to your car door, and a few seconds later he's there, bare chest only a few inches from your face as he examines the bump on the top of your head with strong, gentle fingers.

"You have to be more careful," he says. For all you care, he could be quoting the stock prices--you really can't be expected to pay attention to words when he is so close that you could stick your tongue out and lick that glistening chest. The urge to do so is overpowering--and you have a horrible feeling from the sudden chuckle above you that he knows exactly what you are thinking.

Your feeling is confirmed when you are suddenly faced with a pair of mischievous aqua-gray eyes, staring at you from a meager inch and a half. His nose is brushing against yours, his breath tickling your lips. "You should act on your instincts," he says softly, nuzzling you playfully with his nose.

"Even if they tell me to give a complete stranger a tongue-bath?" you respond, pleased that your voice is only trembling a little. Maybe not quite as seductive as Monica or Emmy could have managed--but not bad under the circumstances.

"If the stranger is me," he says in a low purr, leaning even closer so that he's speaking against your lips. Your breathing and heart stop as he presses his lips against yours, the tip of his tongue darting out to trace your lips where they meet.

You open your mouth to him, expecting him to deepen the kiss--which he probably would have if something hadn't suddenly shocked him badly enough that he goes stumbling backwards, eyes wide and one hand pressed against his forehead as he lands inelegantly on his well-rounded behind.

Now it is your turn to kneel in front of him as he gathers his scattered wits, shocked expression falling away to be replaced by an adorable smirk. "You'd think at his age he'd be able to hide his emotions a little better," Obi-Wan mutters, shifting his weight until he actually looks comfortable, sprawled gracefully in the road next to your car.

"Who?" you ask, slightly confused--and a little bit pissed off too. Whoever got in the way of your first chance to tongue wrestle with the Padawan is going to hear from you later on if you have anything to say about it.

"Master Qui-Gon," comes the amused response. "Your friend--Alyi--Alos--"

"Aloysius," you supply promptly.

"Ah yes, Aloysius--well, she seems to have gotten over whatever was making her cry, and has decided that Master Qui-Gon needs some comforting now." His grin is so sexy that you control the urge to show him a little comforting on the spot--the only thing holding you back is the knowledge that it is very illegal to strip down and play with sexy strangers in the middle of the street in this galaxy.

"Comforting, hmmm?" you ask, moving a little bit closer.

"Yes . . . very enthusiastic comforting, if his projection is any proof." The sexy grin is back, and you have the feeling that he knows very well how fuckable it makes him--the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you says it louder than words. "Master Qui-Gon is very good at keeping feelings like that shielded from me--your friend must be being very persistent."

Sparing a few moments to think about the many conversations you have had with Aloysius on exactly what she would do if given access to the Master, you send Qui-Gon a few thoughts of encouragement--and a quick prayer to whoever may be listening that he likes whipped cream and chocolate syrup as much as she does.

Of course, thoughts of what the two of you wanted to do to the Master lead directly to what you wanted to do to the Padawan--who is lying in front of you right now wearing only his pants--his pants and that smug grin. And the FM boots. Never forget the FM boots.

Before you can move, one of those boot-clad legs wraps suddenly around your back, pulling you off balance and leaving you to try and keep from falling by clutching at the first thing your hands close upon--which of course is a very muscular, very naked set of shoulders.

"Like the boots, do you?" Obi-Wan purrs softly, face only inches from your throat. You can feel the brush of his short spiky hair against your chin, making your entire body shiver. You whimper softly, one hand falling from his chest to rest against his knee where it is pulled up tightly against your waist. The other leg is still wrapped around the back of yours, making escape impossible.

Escape? For crying out loud, who wants to escape? Your only hope right now is that you can get him someplace where it's safe to rip his clothing off--even thought it would be fun to do it right now, it would be very difficult to explain to a cop why you had decided to get funky in the road with a Jedi Knight. Well, you think to yourself, your hand beginning to absently caress his firm leg though his pants. At least they'd send me to the loony bin as opposed to jail. Nothing crazier than screwing a fictional character in the middle of the road.

All attempts to think are shattered, however, as Obi-Wan decides he's had enough of staring at your throat, and opens his lips to begin sucking on it gently. Your head falls back and you don't even attempt to hide the moan as his lips slide up the front of your throat, over your chin, and finally to your own. He has shifted forward by now, taking his weight off of his arms so that one can slip around your waist as the other tangles in your hair, holding your face steady as he begins to tease your lips open with his tongue.

There is no hesitancy in the kiss this time. Your arms slide around his neck as you tilt your head, your lips sliding off of his to trail down his cheek to his neck, sucking urgently as you feel the approving rumble deep in his chest.

Before things can get any more interesting, however, you are reminded of your location by an approaching car, which obligingly slows down as it turns the corner, blinding you in its headlights.

You try to break out of Obi-Wan's embrace, but his leg is still locked firmly behind you as he simply stares at the car.

A window rolls down and a man who doesn't look to be much older than you sticks his head out the window, calling out, "You might be needing this, man!" He tosses something out the window before slamming on the gas, the laughter of his passengers floating back to you as he whips off around the corner, headlights fading and leaving the two of you in quasi-darkness again.

Obi-Wan picks up the small plastic package with a confused look that suddenly turns into a smug grin. You look at it more closely, rolling your eyes and groaning as you recognize the distinct shape. Well, never say that people in the Midwest aren't helpful . . .

"Don't worry," Obi-Wan says, grinning before tucking the present in one of your pockets. "We've got them where I'm from--you're not going to have to explain to me what it is."

"Small mercy that," you mutter, squirming around in his arms until he releases you. "Come on, Padawan. I'm not going to wait around to see what the next car throws at us. I'm taking you back to your hotel now."

"Am I going to have to stay alone?" he pouts up at you, reclining back on the road, one hand tracing circles on that perfect chest. He looks so damn sensual, sprawled out in front of you bonelessly--

--well, not /completely/ bonelessly.

"You've got your Master," you say teasingly, crossing your arms and staring down at him in mock-seriousness.

"Are you /kidding/?" Obi-Wan demands, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to get a different room when I get back--no way I'm staying with him while your friend is doing that kind of stuff to him."

"Still at it, is she?" you ask, not at all surprised. Aloysius has a deep passion for the Master, and the chances are that she'll have him tied up for a long time. Literally.

"And then some," is the sly response. The long fingers are now caressing his stomach, although his eyes remain locked on yours. "Am I going to have to stay alone?" he asks again.

"Get in the damn car," you growl suddenly, spinning around and flinging yourself into the driver's seat. You breathe deeply for a few moments, jumping as he slides into the passenger seat much more quickly than you expected he would.

"Any more orders?" he asks, his face very close to your neck.

"Behave while I drive," you say faintly, buckling your seat belt and starting the car. Obi-Wan sighs and gives your neck a teasing lick before settling back against the door, buckling his seat belt and giving you a heated look.

You've only been driving for about five minutes when you feel his hand on your knee, rubbing softly against the rough fabric of your jeans. As his hand starts moving slowly upwards, you realize that this is going to be a very interesting ride. . .

If you had known in the beginning that his hotel was half an hour away, you would have had him sit in the back seat for his own good. You don't know what kind of drivers training they get on Coruscant, but Driver's Ed sure the hell didn't teach you how to navigate dark, winding roads successfully with the distraction of a very strong, very talented hand caressing you through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Obi-Wan, damn him, is reclining against the seat as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on. His fingers brush lightly against your collarbone as they head towards the buttons on your shirt, undoing the first four so quickly that you barely have time to protest. The need to protest dies quickly, however, when he twists around in the seat and is suddenly pressing very warm lips to your stomach, sending jolts of heat throughout your body.

Concentrating on the road has suddenly become difficult, and you overcorrect from a turn, causing the car to lurch. Obi-Wan's face slides sideways across your stomach to your side, but he doesn't bother to move back, sucking instead on the sensitive skin at your side while using those nimble fingers to finish opening your shirt up.

You can feel your hands tightening on the wheel as he begins to lick his way back to your stomach, tongue swirling in lazy patterns across your warm skin. He moves slowly, intent on tasting every inch of exposed skin. Every once in a while he finds a sensitive spot--and your gasps are inevitably rewarded with special attention--usually teasing nibbles and intent sucking. By the time he's half way up your stomach you're surprised that you can still see the road.

Lust-induced as you are, it takes a few minutes for the meaning of the flashing lights behind you to sink in. The sirens are more direct, and you come back to earth with a crash, moaning as a glance in your rearview mirror reveals a police car.

Pushing Obi-Wan's head gently away from your body, you curse softly as you pull over to the side of the road and slow your car, realizing too late that your shirt is undone and your cheeks are flushed.

The officer knocks on your window and you oblige him by rolling it down, casting Obi-Wan a look that promises death if he misbehaves. The officer spends a few moments just looking at you, giving you the same look your parents would give you years ago when you came home from a date with a hickey that just refused to be hidden.

"You know how fast you two were going?" the man asks finally, giving Obi-Wan's bare chest a disapproving look.

Since we're both wearing pants, not fast enough, is all you can think of to say--and that is probably not the best idea. Actually, you really don't have a clue how fast you were driving--you hadn't looked at your speedometer since Obi-Wan's tongue decided to come out to play.

You shake your head, giving the officer a demure look. "I'm sorry sir--this speedometer isn't that reliable." You glance over at Obi-Wan, who is giving you a down-right sultry look, head tilted to the side, eyes hooded by long lashes. Stop trying to seduce me and start helping me, you think at him with all of your might. If he can read the thoughts you don't want him to see, he'd damn well better be able to pick up things you're screaming at him.

Right on cue, the Padawan leans across you, one arm resting on the window and the other sneaking behind your back. He simply stares at the officer for a few moments, while the hand behind your back creeps upwards until it encounters your bra.

"We weren't going that fast," Obi-Wan says casually, looking up at the officer calmly.

"You weren't going that fast," the officer repeats obediently, and you blink. I thought he had to wave his hand around or something-- He's most definitely not waving his hand around though, a fact to which you are alerted when you suddenly feel the first clasp on your bra give. You elbow him in the ribs, hoping he realizes that your shirt is hanging open, and flashing an officer of the law is not considered good form in this galaxy.

Obi-Wan looks at you briefly, murmuring, "You don't want that on anyway," before turning the force of his gaze back on the officer.

I don't want this on any-- the thought keeps hold of your mind long enough for him to undo the second clasp. Why that little bastard! Thinks he can mind whammy me, huh? It's too late, however--the third clasp is already undone, leaving your undergarment hanging precariously from your shoulders.

While you were distracted by the mind whammy, Obi-Wan apparently came to some agreement with the officer, who shakes Obi-Wan's hand before turning to walk back to his car. Neither of you speak as the engine starts up, and a few moments later you see the police car drive by, leaving you both in dark silence again.

You open your mouth to inform the Padawan how little you appreciated being stripped in front of a cop, but nothing manages to come out but a moan as Obi-Wan turns suddenly, pulling your bra down and dropping his mouth to your left breast, sucking and tasting with obvious enthusiasm. Your head falls back as you let out a loud whimper, one hand grasping wildly at his arm, still propped up against the window. He has one arm wrapped around you, arching your back as much as the seatbelt will allow and making it impossible for you to escape the warm prison of his mouth.

After what seems like an eternity he pulls back, and you're distracted by the feel of smooth metal sliding across your stomach as he moves his hand away from the window. Curious, you grab his hand and turn it over, blinking for a few moments at the handcuffs he's holding before the realization sinks in.

"You stole his /handcuffs/?" you ask shakily, your voice rising dangerously on the last word.

"I did not steal them," Obi-Wan responds primly, giving you a look that makes your entire body shudder. "He gave them to me."

"Why would you want them?" You're not expecting him to answer, so you're surprised when he leans over to place his mouth directly next to your ear.

"I don't want you getting away when I use my Jedi powers of sexual stimulation on you," he whispers softly, gracing your earlobe with a slow, heated lick. "Most people can't sit still after the first five minutes."

"You used the mind whammy to procure sexy toys from a public official?" Your voice, meant to sound stern, comes out far too approving. You can't seem to keep control of your body, which is telling you to strip down immediately and fuck the Jedi blind.

"Mind whammy?" Obi-Wan's voice sounds amused, and he chuckles softly against your ear, sending another surge of heat throughout your body.

You pull back slightly and turn to face him. "Mind whammy," you repeat. "You know, this one." You wave your hand in front of his face and intone, "You want to take off your pants right now."

Obi-Wan smiles and reaches down, grabbing the fastening of your pants in one hand and catching your face in the other, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. You try to ignore the fingers at your waist, so close to the wet heat that is crying out for him.

"You shouldn't try that if you don't know how," Obi-Wan says softly, his voice so throaty that you let out a little whimper of desire just hearing him speak. "You never know when it will backfire . . ."

Backfire away! is the only thought you're capable off. He is still holding your face firmly in one hand, holding you inches away from his own face. You whimper softly as his hand slips between your legs, rubbing you lightly through the fabric of your pants.

"Drive now," Obi-Wan whispers against your lips, tongue darting out to lick along them as he pulls back, settling into his corner of the car again. For a few minutes you're left gasping for breath, but it isn't long before you realize that the quicker you start the car, the faster you'll be in a setting where it's appropriate to rip his pants off and return the tongue bath.

Obi-Wan behaves rather well for the next fifteen minutes, playing contentedly with his new toy. The soft click of the handcuffs as he locks them and unlocks them with the Force is rhythmic--unlike your breathing.

By the time you finally pull into the parking lot at the hotel you're ready to scream with sexual tension. You ignore your bra, buttoning your shirt back up hastily before pushing Obi-Wan from the car and following quickly, bringing only your car keys with you as you herd him towards the hotel entrance.

Before you reach the door, Obi-Wan turns, bracing a hand on each of your shoulders.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks seriously, eyes mysterious. You stare at him as if he's gone mad--do you want to fuck the Padawan? Is it a trick question?

"Yes," you respond, not trusting yourself to say any more.

"Good." His eyes take on a sly cast, and he gives you that irresistible, 'I-know-you-want-what-I've-got' look. "Now do you have anything you'd like to say before we go in?"

"I don't think so," you respond carefully. "Why?"

"Because, once we set foot in that hotel you're going to spend the next four or five hours whimpering and moaning--so if you have anything serious to say you'd better do it now."

"Confident, aren't you?" You can't resist saying it, staring up into those dancing eyes. You're every bit as confident in his abilities as he seems to be. Hell, you're probably more so.

"No, not confident," he replies, grabbing your hand and leading you toward the door. "Experienced." Casting you a heated look over his shoulder, he pulls you inside.

Before the door of your hotel room even swings shut he's on you, devouring every inch of you he can reach with his hungry mouth. Your eyes roll back into your head and you whimper, barely feeling it as you are pressed up against the door by a long, hard body. You faintly hear a click next to your ear as he raises one hand to slide the doorlock home, the other hand already tugging insistently against your shirt.

When his body moves away you start to slide down towards the floor, rubbery knees no longer able to hold your quivering body upright. He catches you with the Force, holding your body a few feet off of the floor, and freeing his hands to make quick work of the row of buttons down the front of your shirt. It falls open, leaving your skin bare to his warm gaze.

Obi-Wan stares at you for a few long moments, making your body come alive with the need to touch him. "Please," you whisper softly, your eyes meeting his as he takes a step forward to tower over you.

"Please, what?" he responds, reaching down to slide the arm of your shirt off of your shoulder. The fabric slides against your skin, making you shiver, but he is very careful not to give you the satisfaction of his hands on your body. You are still suspended in midair, caught and trapped by the invisible Force bonds.

"Please," you whisper again, only this time it sounds much more like a whimper. "Please - touch me."

Obi-Wan says nothing, moving to the other side to slide your shirt off of your body in the same fashion - the heat of his warm fingers coming to you through the fabric of your shirt, making your body ache to be touched.

When you are shirtless before him he draws back again, studying you with his head cocked to one side. You suppress the urge to whimper again, telling yourself that you're damned well not going to give him the pleasure of hearing you moan until he does something to deserve it.

"Oh, don't you worry." Suddenly he's there, speaking against your neck, arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up. "I'll do plenty to deserve it."

Next thing you know you are staring at the floor as it moves by, feeling the bunched muscles of Obi-Wan's shoulder as it flexes under your stomach. It takes you a few moments to realize that the man has tossed you over his shoulder--and he's not headed towards the bed.

You see the floor change from carpet to tiling, and assume that Obi-Wan has decided to head towards the bathroom. He stops moving for a few moments, and you get the feeling that he is examining the facilities. Apparently pleased with what he sees he let's out an approving rumble--one you can feel echoing through his chest more than you can hear it. Impatient for him to get on with it, you reach down with one hand and squeeze that perfect butt.

Your world is upended in a surge of rippling muscle, and you find yourself sprawled on the floor, hands caught above your head in Obi-Wan's grasp. "Want to get on with it, do you?" he purrs, his face impossibly close to yours.

Instead of answering, you move your head slightly and bite his lower lip, growling in the back of your throat as you begin to suck on it, daring him not to return the gesture. He doesn't disappoint you, opening his mouth and taking sudden control of the kiss, running his tongue along the inside of your mouth almost roughly.

You're convinced that you are about to die of air loss when he finally moves his mouth away--but he doesn't give you a chance to recover. You feel yourself swept up in his arms and you close your eyes against the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm you.

The feeling of cold tile against your back makes your eyes fly open, and you gaze up to find him looming above you, hands sliding slowly down your bare arms to grasp your wrists. In a lightning quick move he has guided them upwards, and you find first one hand and then the other encircled by the cold caress of steel.

Glancing up, you see your hands securely handcuffed together, the chain connecting them passing between two parts of the showerhead, ensuring that you aren't going anywhere unless several feet of lead piping comes with you.

Your attention is dragged suddenly downwards, and you blink at the sight of the Padawan kneeling at your feet, one hand on either side of your waist. His eyes are staring up at you, two blue-gray pools hooded by thick lashes. As soon as you meet his eyes he leans forward, pressing a warm kiss to the heat between your legs, making you jump even though there are several layers of fabric between his mouth and your body.

You jump again as he slowly unbuttons your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours as one hand pulls the zipper down while the other slides around your hip to pull at the back of your pants, sliding them down a few inches.

Maddeningly, he stops, gazing up at you with those incredible eyes. You feel a wave of desire pass over you, and you push your hips forward, hoping that he'll do /something./ You don't really care much what at this point--but you need something.

Smiling slightly he tugs your pants a little lower before leaning in to kiss you again, this time with only your thin underwear to protect you from the heat of his mouth. You let out a throaty groan, pushing blindly towards him, moaning when his hands come up to brace your hips back against the wall.

With a swift movement he tugs your pants the rest of the way down your legs, lifting your feet and tossing the pants out of the shower door before rising gracefully to his feet. He gazes at you for a few moments more before grasping your face in his hands and lowering his lips to yours, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. Only his hands and his mouth touch you, and he only chuckles and pulls back when you arch your body forward, desperate for the feel of his skin against yours.

You notice then that you can no longer feel the coolness of the handcuffs against your wrist. Looking up you tug one wrist against the restraint experimentally, confused when the metal doesn't bite into your skin. It's almost as if there is something rubbery between your wrists and the metal.

"I've lined them with a little Force protection," Obi-Wan whispers against your ear, his breath stirring your hair. "No need to have those pesky tell-tale bruises, now is there?"

The pace Obi-Wan sets is torturous in its slowness. His hands touch every inch of you several times, running over you first firmly, then lighter--until the final caress is like the faint feeling of silk against your skin. You try to arch towards him, but after the first time you tried he did something with the Force, and now the only parts of you that you can move are your head and your arms--but your arms aren't going anywhere and your head is trapped firmly between your arms.

He's still touching you--having made his way from your feet up to your neck by now. When his hand passes over your face he whispers a command, and your eyes slide obediently shut beneath the force of his mind, leaving you with only four senses. The featherlike caresses continue, up your arms and to your fingers, gently parting them and twining strong fingers between them before sliding back down your arms.

And then there is nothing. You try to open your eyes, but your entire body resists it. Mind whammy, you think to yourself, tilting your head slightly to the side to rest against your arm. Your skin is so sensitized now that every brush of air against it is like a caress, and even the faint feeling of your hair sliding against your back as you move your head makes you jump.

Jump is too mild a word for what you try to do when you feel the first sweep of his tongue across the bridge of your foot. Whatever he is doing to restrain you keeps you from moving, but your muscles try to carry out the movement just the same--adding another layer of sensation to the one his tongue is creating. Nothing touches you but that wet heat, and it glides over every inch of your foot before sliding upwards, twirling around the inside of your ankle and making your entire body shudder.

After he's tasted your ankle he pulls back to blow on it, and you shudder again, a whimper escaping your lips. Still sensitive from the light caresses, the feeling of his tongue burns like fire across your skin, and the cool air makes your body tremble.

Your hope that he will end the sweet torture soon is dashed as he continues slowly up your leg, careful that nothing touches your body but the roughness of his tongue. Careful that he doesn't miss anything. Every once in a while he'll pull back for a few moments, leaving your body trembling between the desire for him to continue, and the desire for him to just tear you from the wall and fuck you blind.

But the tongue always returns, and your world narrows down to your skin and his tongue. Narrows down to your sense of smell and your sense of touch. He doesn't speak, and you can't see him or taste him, but every feeling hits you three times, and the musky smell of him is overwhelming. It's almost frightening, the intense concentration you can feel rolling off of him--frightening, and awe-inspiring.

When his mouth reaches your underwear he makes a slight clicking noise in the back of his throat, growling lightly. You feel his teeth brushing lightly against your waist, and then feel the elastic of your last piece of clothing slide slowly downwards as he guides it off of your body with his mouth.

You groan, wanting more than anything to open your eyes and see this beautiful man unclothing you with his teeth--and then you groan deeper as you feel the trail of cloth against the leg he has licked, against the incredibly sensitive skin.

You obediently lift your feet one at a time and you hear that approving rumble again--a noise that seems to start deep in his chest and stop just short of coming out as deep purr. You imagine what it would feel like to be pressed up against his chest as he did that, what it would feel like to have those well toned muscles flexing against yours, the feel of his warm skin rubbing against you.

"Soon," Obi-Wan says in a throaty voice, his face surprisingly close to your ear. "Have patience." And with that, he begins the tongue bath again with your other leg.

You have no concept of time in this world Obi-Wan has immersed you into. Somehow he's made it so that the slightest touch of his skin on yours is mindblowingly erotic--you feel like a tightly strung instrument. And Obi-Wan, damn him, seems to know all too well how to play you.

He is incredibly thorough, and by the time you feel his tongue licking across your lips you're frantic. The only parts of you left untouched by his mouth are the two areas on your body that cry out most for attention. The minute you feel his mouth brushing yours your lurch your head forward, catching his mouth in a brutal, desperate kiss.

He allows the play for a few moments, letting you have this tiny bit of control before reasserting his with a casual flick of his tongue, pulling away with a tantalizing lick across your lips. Desperate to see him you try to force your eyes open, and are rewarded with a warm chuckle and a light caress against your brow.

"Don't try to see me," he whispers, the first time you've heard his voice in what seems like forever. "Feel me."

Feel him? He's not touching you, you can't move, how the hell are you supposed to--

You get no further, because at that point your brain shuts off. Obi-Wan is on his knees in front of you, strong hands splaying posessively across your butt as he pulls your hips forward and places a long kiss between your legs that shatters your universe.

Your whimpers grow more vocal as you feel the slithering heat of his tongue, cool compared to the fire raging inside you but warm enough to stoke the flames higher. Your body--sensitized somehow by him to react to the slightest brush of flesh--suddenly explodes, and your whimpers give way to throaty moans, which in turn lead into hoarse cries--pleading with him to take you higher, to drop you--to do anything but let you teeter on the brink of insanity.

His only response is to bury his face deeper in you, opening his mouth and actually /purring/ into you.

You scream. In case everyone on the floor didn't hear you, you do it again, just a little louder. Liking your response, Obi-Wan purrs again--and this time you're sure that the nightwatch man in the lobby seven floors down is going to come up to see who is killing you.

His hands and the handcuffs are the only thing holding you upright now. Your knees have long since given out, and your entire body is trembling with the need for release, but he keeps you teetering, so close that you can feel the tremors almost starting.

Still he drags it out, pulling back a little to give lighter caresses before diving in and sucking full force. You're convinced that the sadistic bastard is taking pleasure from your torture--all you can think of now is the need to fall into bliss, but bound by the Force as you are you can't even thrust your hips forward.

Finally he takes pity on you, one hand sliding lower as the other hand slides to the center of your back to compensate. Then his fingers join his tongue in coaxing you, and with cry a that makes your throat hurt you feel yourself hurled into mindless oblivion, crying out and writhing against him as wave upon wave of mindless pleasure breaks over you, your body shaking violently with the intensity of your climax. Throughout it all Obi-Wan calmly continues his ministrations, drawing your orgasm out until you're afraid that your entire body is going to fly apart riding the violent waves or pleasure.

When it's over you find yourself trembling in Obi-Wan's arms, the handcuffs clinking softly to the ground as he unlocks them with a thought, letting you slide bonelessly to the ground, sprawling helplessly in his lap.

You can't help it, you feel tears of shock and pleasure drifting silently down your cheeks--never in your life have you felt so overwhelmed or out of control. Gentle fingers swipe across your cheeks, and you find that you can open your eyes again.

The aqua-gray pools above you drink you in, and you manage a tremulous smile at the intent look of worry in his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" Obi-Wan's voice is hesitant and concerned, and you can feel the gentle caress of his hand through your hair.

"I think you killed me," you respond, your voice still ragged and your breathing shallow. "I never thought death could be so good."

Those heart-breakingly beautiful features break out into a smile, and you repress a giggle. His lips are still very wet from their encounter with the proof of your desire, and you lift a trembling hand to wipe across the bottom lip.

He captures your finger in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from your finger and licking around it with that amazing tongue. You can hardly believe it when another shot of desire arches through your body--you still haven't recovered your breath yet--another orgasm like that /will/ kill you.

"Don't worry," Obi-Wan says softly, releasing your finger and gathering you up to carry you to the other room. "You'll have your breath back before the next one--I'll make sure you don't die from the pleasure."

How kind of you, is your last thought as he tumbles both of you into the bed.

Part Six

A man of his word, once in the bed Obi-Wan pulls you against his back and cuddles you for a few moments, letting you catch your breath. You can feel his arousal against your back, obvious through the thin fabric of his pants, but he ignores it gallantly.

You thought you were exhausted, but the feel of his body against yours and the muscles of his chest moving fluidly as he rubs one hand up and down your body is intoxicating, and it's not all that long before you're squirming around in his arms to face him, a familiar warmth uncurling deep inside you.

"Well, that didn't take long," Obi-Wan says softly, his eyes shifting from grayish-aqua to almost green. "I obviously didn't do a good enough job."

"You did fine," you purr back, throwing one bare leg over his hip and dragging his body even closer to yours. "I just want more."

"More?" His eyes sparkle as he rolls back over, pressing your body into the bed with his. "Do you really think you're ready for more?" Most of his weight is braced on his arm that is resting above your head, but the feeling of his hard body stretched out on top of yours is still enough to make you breathless all over again.

Instead of answering his question you shoot one hand up above your head and close your fingers around his wrist, giving his arm a swift tug. Obi-Wan lets out a startled gasp as he looses his balance and lands fully on top of you, pressing you down into the bed. Before he can react you snap your legs up around his hips and trap him against you, grinding your hips up against him teasingly.

"What do you think, Padawan?" you growl against his throat, inhaling the musky scent of him. "Do I feel ready?"

"Would you like an expert opinion on that?" Obi-Wan asks softly, lifting his face to nuzzle your hair.

"Who's the expert?" you respond, grinding your hips up against his again. He hisses slightly, biting down on your earlobe and causing you to grind against him again.

"Some would call me qualified," Obi-Wan whispers into your ear. "Allow me to examine you." Before you can respond he's moving, sliding down your body slowly enough so that he never loses contact with you. The feeling of his chest rubbing across your breasts and stomach is amazing, and you fight the urge to buck up against him. He growls appreciatively, lifting up slowly and guiding your legs from his shoulders to lay back against the bed.

In a flurry of movement he spins himself around so that his head is next to your knees, propped up on one elbow as he reclines next to you. "Now, where was I? Ahhh, yes. Expert opinion." His nose comes down to nuzzle at your thigh, parting your legs with gentle insistence.

"Look at me," he purrs into your leg, and you open your eyes and lift your head slightly, overwhelmed by the site of his cheek resting on your thigh, eyes wide and dark with passion. One hand slides up over your hip and across your stomach, dipping down between your legs. You let your head fall back as he caresses inside you, making a strange clicking noise in the back of his throat.

"I don't know . . ." he says finally, slipping his fingers out and climbing back up the bed to straddle you. You meet his eyes, and he begins licking his fingers slowly, running his tongue over them with his eyes locked to yours.

"You don't know what?" you demand, your voice ragged. He continues to lap at his fingers, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully.

"Don't know if you're ready. I think you need a little more encouragement."

That does it. The man has teased you, taunted you, stripped you in front of a Police Officer, handcuffed you to a /shower head/ . . . and now he's fair bidding to make you lose your mind completely. You surge upwards suddenly, relying on shock to give you the split-second advantage you'd never have otherwise. You manage to successfully topple Obi-Wan--part of you insisting that he must want it since you really could never overpower a Jedi--and you straddle him, bracing your hands on his shoulders.

"No more teasing, Jedi," you growl, your fingers clenching into hard muscle. Obi-Wan just smiles at you, lifting his hand and beginning to suck on the fingers again while the other hand slides up to rest in the small of your back.

It's been a long time since your last intimate encounter--but that doesn't mean you've forgotten what will wipe the smug grin right off of his face. You slide backwards a few inches, situating yourself directly above his hardness, and start to rock slowly back and forth.

Obi-Wan throws back his head and groans, fingers falling to the bed forgotten. The hand on your back starts to clench convulsively, and you watch in amusement as the self-contained Jedi fights for his control.

Suddenly two strong hands lock around your waist, dragging you up so that you're straddling his chest instead of more entertaining things. You pout down at him, and he growls in response.

"I said no more teasing," you remind him softly, grinding yourself against his chest and watching as he gasps slightly.

"Teasing? You haven't seen teasing yet," he responds, hands lifting you up easily and tossing you sideways onto the bed. He's on you in a second, his hips hovering above yours. You try to wrap your legs around him, but find yourself incapable of moving. He grins as realization lights your eyes, and grinds his still fully-clothed hips against you for an agonizing second, pulling away when he hears you gasp.

::No man should have control like this . . .:: you think faintly as he repeats the gesture, apparently as comfortable as can be despite the obviously straining erection pressing against the confines of his pants.

Holding his entire body above yours, Obi-Wan reaches down with his mouth and seals his lips to yours, the single contact flaring brightly because it is all you can feel of him. His tongue darts out to lick your lips, but you keep them clenched decidedly shut, deciding to test his resolve.

"Oh, you want to play, do you?" he purrs against your mouth. Suddenly his knees are on either side of your waist, your arms pinned beneath them. Placing a hand on either side of your head, he leans down and begins to lick your lips slowly, just the tip of his tongue trailing over them. That soon leads into a firm pressure as his tongue plunges repeatedly at your lips, demanding entrance.

You're so caught up in your battle not to yield that you don't even notice that one hand is moving until you feel it between your legs. Reaching behind himself, Obi-Wan slips the finger in to you and starts to tease the bundle of nerves, causing you to gasp loudly.

That's all the opening he needs, and his tongue swarms into your mouth, marking territory that had been denied him. His tongue starts to slowly slide against yours, mimicking the movement of his hand below your waist. You groan, the groan increasing as he starts to suck, his mouth forming a vacuum that steals your breath, and drags your tongue into his mouth.

You moan as the hand between your leg retreats, sliding teasingly over your stomach before coming to rest on your face. You can feel the wetness against your forehead as he drags a finger down between your eyes and across the bridge of your nose, and you stifle a gasp as his mouth leaves yours to trace the path, licking at the moisture enthusiastically.

An exploratory wiggle of your fingers tells you that your hand is free now, and you take advantage of his distraction to free one arm, reaching up between you to cup the bulge in his pants gently.

He pulls back with a startled explanation, words dying on his lips as he looks down to meet your eyes. Your hand continues to caress, following the length as best you can with the barrier of his pants.

"I want to touch you," you whisper softly. "Please."

He reaches down to kiss you again, his mouth grinding forcefully against yours as tongues duel fiercely. Your hand never stops it's ministrations, squeezing occasionally and enjoying the sudden burst of energy it lends to his kiss.

Finally Obi-Wan pulls back, breathing ragged, and climbs from the bed. "I could never deny a naked woman anything," he purrs, his hand going to the tie on his pants. You roll over and prop your head up on your elbow, giving him your full attention.

And then his pants hit the floor, and you've got something else demanding your full attention.

Part Seven

For a few moments he just stands there, letting your eyes roam over his body--which they do. He is perfect in every sense of the word--muscles carved from steel covered with unblemished tan skin that looked ridiculously soft. Your eyes travel slowly up his legs, marveling at the power implicit in his powerful thighs.

You must have some kind of predatory expression on your face, because he shifts self-consciously, the tips of his ears turning pink. You let out a throaty laugh, gazing up into his eyes.

"What, you don't think turnabout is fair play?" you ask teasingly. "After all, you spent a great deal of time staring at me."

The cocky grin returns, and Obi-Wan moves to place his hands on his hips. "Well, when you put it that way," he says almost purrs, cocking one leg to the side and adopting The Stance, the one that made women everywhere melt into puddles of goo on the floor.

Determined to be stronger than women everywhere, you resist the temptation to melt into the bed, choosing instead to continue your appraisal of your prize.

Taking up where you left off, your eyes fall to those magnificently formed legs, caressing them with your gaze before continuing to move upwards, slim powerful hips and . . .

You can't help the way your eyes widen slightly as they fall on the erection jutting out proudly. The sight of him makes you swallow nervously--you're not exactly a large woman--and now you can see that he's /far/ from being a small man. Suddenly it comes back to you in a rush how long it's been since your last boyfriend--and how sexually unfufilling that relationship really was. You don't have the skill or experience to please this magnificent creature--you must have been insane to think . . .

A faint brush of pressure under your chin forces your face up to meet his gaze, and your breath is stolen by the desire written plainly across the strong features.

"I want you," he says softly. You watch, entranced, as his hand slides up to grip his shaft, rubbing it softly while staring at you, mouth parted slightly. His head tilts back as his breathing speeds up, hand still moving with agonizing slowness. "Please," he moans softly.

Well, that won't do at all. Sliding from the bed you reach up to pull on Obi-Wan, dragging him to the floor and pulling his hands firmly away from his body. "My turn," you whisper huskily, confidence returned. Your practical experience may not be all that great, you decide, but the amount of time you've spent fantasizing about having this man sprawled before you should make up for it. Between fantasy, enthusiasm, and imagination, you figure you've got it covered.

For the moment you ignore his erection, opting to explore territory you've been denied all night. Your hands land on his chest, circling slowly up towards his shoulders as you lean down to latch onto one of his nipples, teasing it into hardness with your teeth and tongue. The sharp gasp underneath you is rewarding, and you smile against his skin as his hands come up to clasp your head to him, tangling in your hair.

"How am I doing?" you ask him breathlessly, looking up to meet his eyes with a wide-eyed gaze. Without saying anything you swing a leg over his hips and straddle his chest, reaching behind you to run a teasing finger up along his hardness. "I'm not very experienced at this, you know," you tell him softly, ignoring his moan as you grind your body against him.

Obi-Wan groans. "I have difficulty believing that," he gasps, breaking off in another moan as you encircle his length in one hand, keeping your touch purposely more gentle than he wants. He tries to thrust into your hand, but you grind down into him again, pinning his hips to the floor.

"Stop trying to take control of this," you admonish, reaching down to nibble on his chin. "I'll never learn if I don't get to do this for myself." You begin your soft stroking again, your confidence boosted by his short breathy gasps.

"I don't--don't think you ha--have much to learn," Obi-Wan forces out, eyes clenched shut tightly as your hand continues to play up and down his length.

You slide off of him suddenly, moving around so that you're kneeling between his legs. He barely has time for a strangled, "Where--" before you're on him again, this time taking him in your mouth.

His hips arch up off of the floor before he can help himself, and you're forced to draw back as his length shoves painfully deep into your mouth.

"Please--" the strangled gasp makes you look up. His head is arched off the floor, eyes cloudy with need and passion--for you. All for you.

"Gently," you say softly. "I've never done this before." Somehow it doesn't seem embarrassing to admit your lack of experience to this man--not when he's gazing at you as if you were responsible for the creation of pleasure.

He nods at you before letting his head drop back to the floor, one hand reaching over and tangling the in the blanket that is half on the floor. You smile and grace his inner thigh with a gentle kiss before taking him again.

His hips begin rocking in time with your suckling, but he keeps himself from thrusting into your mouth again. You try to take him more deeply once, but find yourself unable to relax your throat muscles. ::Okay,:: you think, trying to make up with enthusiasm what you can't grant with quality. So maybe a little bit of experience would be nice right now.

You're almost killing me as it is. The voice in your head is laden with passion, and you look up to see Obi-Wan trying to catch your eyes. You don't need anything else. You're amaz--aahhhhhhh . . .

You're amused to find that him moaning in your head is even more sensual than moaning out loud. Bending down again you're determined to make him moan even louder.

You can tell he's close when something pushes your head back away from his body, and you glance up at him.

"I'm going to--to--" he moans as you swoop back down to capture him in your mouth again, and the ghostly hands that push you away this time are much less firm.

"Isn't that the point?" you ask huskily. "I've certainly tried hard enough."

"You said--first time . . . Didn't want to--"

You growl at Obi-Wan and pierce his gaze with your own. "/I/ want to." Ignoring his faint protests you lean down and capture his erection between your lips, doing your damnedest to bring him release.

His hoarse cries as he explodes are gratifying, and you suck eagerly, determined to experience this man to the fullest. His hands fall to your head and tangle in your hair almost painfully as he thrashes and jerks beneath you. You are suprised to find that, contrary to the gossip of several friends, you actually enjoy the taste of him as you swallow deeply.

As the tremors subside weak hands drag you up to be cradled in trembling arms. Obi-Wan's face nuzzles into your neck as his breathing slowly normalizes, his arms tightening around you.

"You had to have been lying," he mumbles into your skin, one hand tracing up and down your back.

"What?" you question, pulling back so that you can see his eyes.

"Lying," he responds. "If that was your first time doing that, I'm seriously considering bringing you home with me. I'd love to see what you could do with a little practice." His smile is warm as he leans in to kiss you slowly and gently, letting the fire stay doused for the time being. "You do realize, however, that I'm going to have to pay you back for that?"

"And how exactly do you propose to do that?" you ask, sliding your lips from his to kiss his cheek.

"Trust me, my lady--I will find a way. Several ways, I'm sure."

::Several,:: you think to yourself faintly as strong arms gather you up and toss you towards the bed. ::Oh boy--this'll make a story to tell my list sibs.::

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.