Room 23

Metal is cold against your back. But Qui-Gon is a center of warmth in front of you as the surroundings become reality again. With a stuttered sigh, he pulls you to him to rest his head on your crown. You are enveloped in the aroma of spice and male as your nose buries in his cloak. Standing quietly for several minutes, the both of you breathe deeply and silently.

“An interesting….fantasy…” you whisper, breaking the silence. He moves his arms and loosens his hold but does not pull away. The sound of him moving is echoed and harsh in the room now devoid of everything else.

He sighs and draws completely away. “I had not thought of that in years….my home….” His hair hangs down over his neck as he bends it to look you in the eye. The heat from his gaze has tempered slightly…cooled…but a look of attentiveness remains. His eyebrows raise and remain elevated.

“Memories of an adolescent, Qui-Gon?” you ask. Often it is the way of the room to pick the most innocent of fantasies to begin. More than likely…it is a memory or fantasy from the participant’s past. You wonder what else is buried in this man…the silver in his hair belays his age…and his dignity. So many memories…so many thoughts…

“Dreams of one…” His eyes harden for a moment and his mouth becomes a thin line. You can see that proud, defiant chin set…drawing tight his facial skin over his high cheekbones. He squares his shoulders and you watch, appreciating their width. “I don’t agree with this.”

Your sigh is loud in the room. So often the proudest of men, the strongest of men will fight this experience. They do not understand that it is simply their own selves that create what is seen and felt and heard. His eyes widen as you press away from the wall to walk around him. “What is it that troubles you?”

“I am a Jedi. I cannot just release control like that…to allow my mind to…” he stops and turns completely to watch you. “I feel like I am invaded…”

“By your own mind? How can that which exists in you, invade you? It is simply yourself, Qui-Gon. This room, this place, simply allows for the expression of that which is in you.” You tilt your face to the side to give him your full attention. “Your thoughts are not the enemy that they seem to you…”

He begins to pace, moving past you in a flurry of cloak and boots. His arms raise and fold into the contours of his sleeves…hiding them from view, but allows for his chest to appear larger and more muscular. The material of his leggings stretches as his thighs and calves propel him through the small distance that he chooses to pace.

You try again. “It was fun…”

“Fun…yes.” He stops suddenly, turning slowly to affront you. “But unsettling…I am not accustom to allowing my thoughts to have life.” He stops speaking and gazes at you thoughtfully. You feel unsettled yourself, feeling his presence strengthen in the room. “To share them…” he finishes, giving his head a shake and tightens his arms within their confines.

So strong this one, you think, folding your arms across your chest as well. You approach him, walking slowly. When you are scant inches from him, you raise your hand to cup his cheek. He does not move away, nor flinch, but remains motionless…his eyes wide and watching. The bristles of his beard rub against your palm with familiarity. Your thumb brushes his lower lip, j ust grazing. Your arm is fully extended…to account for his superior height. As your hand moves down to his neck, your eyes are drawn to the wall behind him. It changes into a balcony…open to the air.

Qui-Gon feels the change as well and turns to watch the change. You both stand motionless to watch the wall completely change into a gray morning sky, mist and emerald tree tops. A breeze stirs from the newly formed area and it glances your skin like a shy kiss…so cool and fresh.

“It seems I am fighting myself here to no avail. My psyche still wishes for the continuation…” he states slowly. “Consciously I don’t….”

“Your heart might want it…your mind is not the soul ruler of your body, Jedi.” You push past him to venture out onto the now completely formed balcony. You feel the coolness of the stones beneath your feet as you pass the barrier and into the open air. Mist hangs all around…low…and yet as you approach the railing you see that it is not truly low. This balcony is part of a dwelling that exists on the edge of a cliff…high above the surrounding grounds…high above the trees. And it is silent…so silent…only the breeze keeps you company. Very relaxing. “This is beautiful.”

He appears alongside of you, walking slowly. His hands are now out of his cloak. You turn your head, feeling your hair run down the side of you neck like a loving touch, and watch him. “This is Mandora Prime…a place of retreat…a place where I spent a great deal of time.”

His voice is quiet and emotionless. You right yourself completely from your stance at the railing and turn to him. “Did you spend your time there alone?” It is not obvious…but you can sense a cloud of melancholy around this man. He sighs and moves forward to wrap his massive hands over the edge of the balcony. His arms extend and form a wide V to support his upper body as his legs widen to keep his stance squared. You lower your eyes as images of his legs spread for your hand to touch him flash through your mind. His head bows as he leans over the balcony to look below.

“Yes,” he answers simply, still looking down the side of the cliff to the trees below. Suddenly, a flock of birds take to wing in a tree nearby and fly up and away from the dwelling. A breeze swells and sweeps around you.

“Was it by choice?” you ask quietly, allowing your eyes to turn to the beauty below as opposed to the strength and brawn beside you.

“No.”

You sigh, leaning further out to see more below. “You wished for company then…”

“I craved it.”

“And this?” you stand upright and move your hands expansively to encompass the area…the balcony.

He shakes his head, turning it and lifting it as if sniffing the breeze. His eyes squint momentarily. “This…is what I thought of often…what I wanted…what….”

“You needed,” you finish for him, pushing away from the balcony to walk around him. As you pass, you trail your hand across his back. “It pains you…this place…and yet it gives you comfort…”

He does not react to your touch. You slide your hand up into his mane at the nape of his neck. “Your mind…soul…heart…is drawing it out for a reason….maybe you are to release this pain and allow the true comfort to happen.”

He shivers slightly as your fingers trace his neck…the corded muscle. You sigh at the warmth you feel there. “Let me help you?” you ask quietly, moving your other hand up his back. So tight these muscles…you wonder if they have ever been loose. “Release it.”

Qui-Gon turns suddenly and puts his hands on your shoulder and eases them down to your hands where he grasps them. With a soft touch, he caresses the skin. Behind you the rest of the room, which has remained as itself, changes slowly…shimmering and flowing. The feeling is one of shadows and craving…of lonely nights and long empty days…you can feel it emanating from the rest of the room like a quasar. But there is a sensual nature here as well.

“Let it happen…” you whisper. “It is safe here.”

His jaw tightens and his shoulders roll under your touch. “I will not be party to games of the spirit and mind.”

You smile and kiss his clothed shoulder before drawing away and walking toward the now formed door. “The only one playing this….is you, Qui-Gon.” You hesitate at the door to turn and watch the man at the balcony. He has not turned to look at you or at the remaining changes that have occurred. He remains impassively attentive to only the mist. With a deep breath, you turn and walk into the inside. The completion of the environment is complete. He will either allow this to become reality for him…or not.

You hope he will. And allow whatever is needed within him to occur.

The sheets are cool against your back…not silken…rougher…but still as cool. It is the silk against your skin that feels like fresh morning rain on your skin. You stretch in the tangle of sheets and roll to the side. It is still warm where his body had lain for a time. You snuggle momentarily into the aura of his presence that the bed holds in its bosom. It still smells of him…musky and dark..earthen. Your afternoon nap with him is at an end, you decide, and continue your roll to slide your legs off the side of the bed. He must be in the other room.

The wood of the floor is excessively cool in the falling night air and your toes curl to conserve warmth. With a shiver, you grab your night coat, and move toward the screen that separates the room you are in from the rest of the dwelling. As you clear its towering presence you are confronted with the smell of fresh brewed tea and burning candles. The ash and acrid smell of fire hangs heavy in the air.

You open your mouth to ask for Qui-Gon when you see him. Beyond the low furniture, in the sparsely decorated corner, you see him…kneeling on a mat. He is still in his sleep pants…loose about his legs and waist…and that is all that he wears. You sink to the cushion near the table and watch him. It is not often that you get to observe his form still…as a statue…and not moving in a blur. He has been working himself almost to death…training…fighting…running from a past that will never allow him to win. Never allow him to get away. And yet…he still runs.

His chest is more muscular now; his arms more toned almost to the point of perfection. His hair is drawn back from his face, tight in a ponytail, harshly accentuating his features. The muted soft material of the sleep pants rests against his waist with a loose tie, contrasting his skin tone…now tawny from hours in the sun. So slender…so strong…so….sad.

Qui-Gon breathes deeply, expanding his chest and opens his eyes slowly. His neck arches slightly as he becomes aware of your presence. “I was hoping that you would not miss me…” he states lowly. Even his voice sounds tired and sad.

“Please tell me that you did not go through the kata again.” You say slowly and quietly.

He closes his eyes and nods slowly. “I did not, love. I promised you I would not. Not today at least.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank the Gods. You need a rest, Qui-Gon.” You rise slowly and cross to him, stopping at the edge of his mat. And there you stay…looking down at him. He rests back on his feet, his hands lying calmly in his lap, curled slightly. He reaches up to draw you down on his lap and you go willingly to rest on his thighs…straddling them. The short hem of your silken night dress rides up your thighs and tightens, and the coat falls about the both of you…a whisper in the falling darkness.

“You know the ritual for recovery…physical exhaustion…” he weakly says, leaning forward to nuzzle at your neck. “It is the Jedi way…. kata and meditation.”

You tilt your head back to let him have at your skin. His mouth travels up your neck slowly. To steady yourself, you reach to grab his ponytail. “Mind, soul, body….” You whisper feeling your toes curl with his caresses. His mouth is like a flame licking at your skin…. “But what of your heart…”

He sighs a laugh against your skin. His own hand twists and pulls at your hair, making your neck bend further for his lips to plunder. “It is not a matter of heart….”

“He was your Padawan for 12 years, Qui-Gon. And you loved him like a son.” You state with a force that is not intentional. You feel him tense and then continue on as though nothing had happened. “You cannot tell me that it is not a matter of your heart.”

“Masters care for and guide their Padawan…” he mutters against your neck and interrupts his speech with a sharp nip to your skin at the connection of your neck and shoulder. “That is the extent of it…there is no passion…”

“None?” you ask, sliding your hands from his hair to grasp at his shoulders. His mouth is forceful now…nipping and then licking away the sting. You gasp as he lifts his hand from your waist to lift the hair away from your ear to taste at the lobe with the same relentlessness. “So what is between us is simply physical?”

He stops his attentions and pulls back to stare at you…his hand brushing at your temple. “Two entirely different situations, love.”

Your hands continue to slide down, skirting his chest and the warmth and dryness of skin. “Are they?” you ask, watching your hands trail his body. One lone nail makes the distance from his sternum to his navel. “They are both borne out of a deep connection, Qui-Gon…one of a man loving another man as his son…his offspring…his legacy…the other of a man loving a woman… but the seed of the feeling is the same…need to connect with another.”

He moves your hair from your eyes with practiced ease and moves it back over your shoulder. You shiver at the touch. He presses his fingers against you lips momentarily and then lowers his hand to trace between your breasts. The heat and the flowing coldness of the silk mixes and makes you lightheaded. You can feel his thighs tense under yours.

“You are punishing yourself, Qui-Gon…you are running from him…from his presence in your life. Running from the fact that anyone can love you….”

His head snaps up to stare into your eyes. In the candlelight, his eyes are intense and so deep that you sink into them. His face is thinner, drawn…but his eyes…his eyes are still alive and clear.

You continue…saying things that you have needed to say. Your hands reach his waist and run to his flanks. “Physically punishing yourself…throwing yourself into practice day after day…sitting for hours in meditation will not allow you to see that you are loved….”

His hands tighten on your hips with almost brutal force. “Anrtha….” He warns.

“And will not allow you to love. Gods…can’t you see that?”

His eyes squint, dousing the heat momentarily. You push to get the rest out…to get him to see…to understand.

“Xani’s betrayal is not the end of you. It has not killed you. It will not. It was not your fault…it does not make you any less worthy of love. You have to heal that heart, Qui-Gon. Accept the pain…you know as well as I do that you are only able to feel the depths of love if you allow yourself to feel the depths of pain as well.”

He lifts with his arms, pushing you away from his body. Your buttocks hit the thinly matted floor and you shiver from the complete coldness that you feel. Without a moment’s hesitation, you continue to talk. You have gone this far this evening…you need to finish it. “Accept the anger you feel…but release it. Accept the pain, the sadness…don’t deaden yourself. That is not the Jedi way.”

He launches to his feet and stalks away from you. Crossing the room in a flurry of loose material and furled muscles. His hair is wild behind him, trailing like a memory. The candles flame wavers in the passing breeze making the shadows dance like hideous creatures on the wall. “Are you finished?” he asks coolly.

You sigh and nod your head. The only warm thing you feel now is the curtain of hair that covers your shoulders. “Yes.”

“And what do you expect me to do? What do you expect me to say?”

“Whatever it is that you need to do…”

He stops his movement and stands with his hands on his hips staring at the wall. The candle flame illuminates his skin making it gleam like gold in the light. The silence descends with a relentlessness that makes you shiver. “I love you, Qui-Gon. And I cannot stand to see this of you. It hurts me as well.”

He nods, lowering his head. But no further words are said from him. You sigh and gain your height slowly. The balcony door is next to you and you feel the need for fresh air…no matter how cool and wet that air might be. You turn and walk to the door, swinging it open to let in the starlight and the mist. “I am here.” You state lowly and press into the evening air.

The mist hugs your body as you step out onto the balcony. If you had thought that the wood on the floor inside was cool…the stones are downright cold. But you still walk out…out and to the railing. The moon is bright…the stars clear…and the sounds of nature comforting. The wrap that you have, flimsy at best, hangs open around your body, brushing at your naked calves…your nightdress only reaches midthigh. The silk becomes like ice against your skin.

The air is refreshing…wet and light….new… You stop at the railing and inhale. The aroma that only a night can produce tickles your senses and you sigh heavily…trying to incorporate it into your body. It feels like a rebirth this air…and it is something that you sorely need. He is killing himself slowly and hiding it from everyone including himself. You shake your head and hang it as your arms extend to rest on the railing.

Warmth encompasses your shoulder in the form of a hand at some point later. The warmth spreads as the hand moves down and joins its mate in encircling your waist. A scratchy beard rubs against your shoulder…skin that is barely covered by material. And then heat presses against your back…completely…covering you from head to leg in caloric heaven. A strong chest, bulging thighs barely covered by loose leggings…both press against you so that there is nothing to imagine...it is reality.

“It is beautiful.”

His voice is broken, quiet. Its tone makes your nerves awaken and course with new energy.

“Very. It is like we are alone in the world.”

His mouth closes on your shoulder, moist and hot. The material clings to his lips like a promise. His arms tighten and bring you back against him fully. “I don’t know what to say.”

You hang your head again, feeling his mouth tighten on your shoulder. Your own hand lowers from the railing to entwine with his at your waist. “Nothing. Or everything. But neither is required.”

“I don’t want to think about this tonight.”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Then don’t…but we will need to address it sometime.”

He sighs against your skin and rubs his beard there. He slowly lowers the material from your skin, making you shiver with barely restrained anticipation. As his lips touch, you arch forward, pressing your breasts into the cold material. He nips and then suckles, drawing the skin in…as you gasp he squeezes with his hands. “I want to feel our passion tonight…to experience it…make it real to me…to you…”

You gasp again as one of his hands rises to cup your breast through the material. The arm crosses your front, effectively pinning you against his body. The heat of his hand makes your body almost hurt in the stark contrast of tangible feeling…your nipple immediately responds…tightening….rising. “You want to make love,” you sigh.

“Yes…make love….and everything that involves…” his mouth returns to the side of your neck. “I want to harness these emotions that you will not let me deaden….”

His hand tightens, pulling at your nipple gently, rubbing it between two fingers…drawing it out….coating it with the presence of cool silk. You arch your body, away from his…as far as his arm will allow. You can feel his want…his need to release emotion…physical release…for beauty…for poetry in motion. Like a siren call, your body responds…dragging you ever closer to him…

He reaches with his other hand and tilts back your chin so it falls just short of his shoulder. His mouth climbs past your jaw to touch at the corner of your lips. “Then let them loose…” you whisper.

“I intend to…” he answers and holds your chin so that his lips can cover yours from the side. Lips and tongue…hot and moist in the cold night air…the pull, the touch…the tingle… You turn in his arms a little to be partly facing him. Your one hand reaches for his cheek as his mouth continues to plunder yours….there is barely harnessed control at work…you can feel it… in the way that his hand sweeps under your hair to cup your neck…in the way that his one leg rubs yours…in the way that his mouth searches for and conquers any inkling of withdraw.

The brush of his beard…the hardness of his chest and the sheer softness of his lips are all you feel. The cool of the air drops away. The stars disappear. Even the stone of the railing ceases to exist….it is just him…just his mouth…his body.

As he draws away, he groans softly. One hand trails up your body to cup your breast again, this time cradling it in the palm. You return the noise…grateful for the support of his other arm behind you….holding your neck. Your legs widen in their stance, allowing the clothed surface of his thigh between them. The shock of the contact is immediate and you follow your first groan with another of louder proportions.

“Let’s go to bed…” you suggest, whispering against his flesh of his shoulder.

“Here.”

“What?” you ask, barely hearing his words over the rush of arousal through your body. You swear even the trees can hear your want of him.

“Right here,” His answer is rough and harsh, driven by desire. You raise your eyes to meet his only to see two coals of heat burning back at you. He quickly pulls you to him and kisses you soundly, a passionate meeting of tongue and lips before he lifts you and sets you on the wide stone railing. He steps forward, spreading your thighs with his hands, and places himself s quarely between them. You are not afraid of falling…quite the contrary… he would never let you fall.

His hands trace at your knees for several seconds before they climb the interior of your thighs, slowly…and with intent. Just the contact of his hands….the warmth…the familiarity…makes you slick and wet with anticipation and longing…adding to the already heavy dose of arousal that you feel. The silk is raised and he presses his thumbs in toward you…in toward your center…the palms of his hands lying on top of your thighs. They just barely skirt the edge…but it is enough to make you quiver…

“You want me,” he groans lowly…his thumbs encountering your wetness.

“Always,” you answer, reaching to hold his shoulders…you need solidity…something to hold onto…to grasp. Your nipples are fully aroused from the night air as well as his caresses…his presence… Everything you touch…everything your skin feels heightens the already raging heat….

His hands leave your body, but come back, one hand grabbing your neck, the other your hips. He pulls you to the edge of the railing so that your legs fly out and around his hips. Qui-Gon’s lips tug at your lower one before opening and covering yours completely. His hips surge against yours and you feel the length of his erection pressing against you. This railing is the perfect height….

He grunts as his body rubs against yours. With almost savage roughness, he pulls his mouth away and runs his lips over your chin and upper neck. His one hand leaves your hip to travel to his own leggings, listing low across his hips…held only by a string. The other holds your neck to receive his playful nips and kisses. “Right here, love…” he whispers as you feel his hand fight with his leggings. “Above the trees…in heaven…”

You moan at the imagery in his words and lean into his holding hand. Your nightdress is about your hips, moved there by his hands. You feel the leggings give way to his skin…falling open in the front, but held up by your legs and his hips. With a moan, you feel his erection…hard…heavy…rubbing against your wet thigh and eager opening. His hand strokes at himself several times before releasing. As his hands fall to your hips, you skirt to the very edge of the railing and tighten your legs about his waist again. Yes…above the trees in heaven…indeed.

He leans forward to kiss your lips gently before he grasps himself and presses deeply into you. No resistance is experienced…your body wants him like it wants its next breath. His width and length pierce you…sliding into the place that he owns…that is his alone…. The long thrust stops as his hips come into completely contact with yours. You both gasp and allow your voices to mingle in the air above and around you.

Qui-Gon withdraws only to thrust back in as his length almost leaves. One of his hands wraps around your hip, the other holds your neck. His mouth finds a sensitive place just below your ear and suckles…he knows…he knows what to do…to make you quiver like a schoolgirl… His hips begin a dance of intricate movements..thrusting and circling and withdrawing.

You shiver with every withdraw…sensitized to the touch of his flesh on yours…and aches with every thrust… The breeze flows around you, retrieving that nightmist smell and wrapping you in it…although now there is the sweet smell of sex intermingled and the aroma of male in heat…

“Please…” you moan… leaning back in his hand further to feel his mouth pull and nibble. Your legs move with his hips. He is everywhere…large and strong…aching and overwhelming… in and out…The stone cuts your tender skin…his legs bruise as they collide.

Stars surround you…just like heaven…

Suddenly your eyes fly open completely as he withdraws. His mouth leaves you, as does his hand on your neck. Both of this hands loop about your hips and pulls…and you feel the cold reality of the stone leave as a support. He lets you down to the ground and leads you to turn. You feel the cold stone now across the front of your thighs…and against your breasts as he leans you forward.

“Watch nature, love…” he states lowly, licking the back of your neck with a very hot tongue. You feel your hips raised and your thighs spread very wide…until you are almost unable to keep your balance. And then his warmth again...this time against your back…

The trees press through the mist, as if reaching for the elusive moon…the mist itself rolls like a river. Everything is coated silver and onyx in the moonlight and the night. So beautiful and still.

Qui-Gon’s hand touches your wetness…testing…entering, moving. He grunts with pleasure at the obviously abundant lubrication that he feels. “Gods…love…”

You arch your back into his hand as he presses down on your waist and raises your hips with the other and then….

You groan…your Jedi is a large man…big and solid…but ever so much more so when you take him in this position. You bite your lip to keep from crying out. It seems that he reaches your very soul…your very deepest part of you. It seems forever by the time that he has thrust completely inside. But it is the withdraw that brings his name out on your lips with a growl. He is everywhere.

Your hands curl into the stone of the railing…and your head falls forward to the cool surface. You are bent in half and spread to his wants…and it feels so good.

“I love this…I love to watch us..” he groans as his body weight leaves yours….you can tell that he leans back to watch. His hips begin to thrust quickly…with little circling or hesitation. You arch your back and press your hips higher in the air as his thrusts increase in tempo. There is nothing that can ground you…even the stone is not enough…you feel like you are flying…soaring…

Every instroke makes your voice sing…every withdraw makes him groan. Your voices join and mate in the air as your bodies mate on the stone. The silk of the dress catches on the nubs in the stone and rubs against your aroused flesh continuously…

Gods, gods gods…his tempo increases until you cannot tell if it is a withdraw or a thrust….he is everywhere and everything. His thighs tighten…you can feel the increase in power there against the back of yours. In and out…constant….and yet not moving at all…

“Love….” His voice is harsh in the night…tinted with passion and need. Your climax approaches quickly…as his body continuously pounds into yours. Gods…your nails scrape at the stone…as if trying to draw you away.

You buck harshly as your climax hits…as your hips lift and your thighs tense….the feeling courses from your center to your breasts and out even to your fingertips. His voice shouts…sending a flock of birds out of their nests and into the air…black on black into the night. He follows behind…moaning your name and that of the Gods and of nature. You can feel his essence in you only as it seeps out.

He crashes to your back, his chest sweaty and his head lands on the back of yours. His hands shake where they hold your hips. You quiver as your muscles release…your fingers are sore from where they hold the stone. Your breaths are out of sync and completely make the air sing between them. And your bodies are on the verge of collapse from the sheer onslaught of the passion.

With a small sigh, he kisses your shoulder and licks at your nape. “Gods…love.”

******

It's dark, smoky, and the music is loud and primal. You smooth your hands over the short dress that hugs your curves like a second skin. You walk around the others, oblivious to them, but feeling the hum in the air of bodies charged with want and desire.

Where is he?

Obi-Wan moves behind you then, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling him against you tightly, your backside pressed hard against the hardness that strained against his leather trousers, his legs against yours.

"How did you do this?" he purrs against your cheek. He nips your earlobe, his warm breath sending chills down your spine. "How did you know?"

"You do this, Obi-Wan," you whisper in reply. You turn and brush your lips against his. "Isn't this what you've wanted?"

"Yes," he growls, pulling you to the nearest wall and pinning you there. Catching your lips with his, he crushes them in a bruising kiss. "Is this what you want?" You look at him, puzzling. He kisses you again then catches your gaze. "Tell me to stop this and I will."

You know then he will stop and walk away if you want him to. Something very new to you. You are used to be being used, taken. But here, this man...

"Don't stop. I need you here. Now."

His mouth covers yours in a rough possessive kiss. You run your hands over the thin silk that covers his strongly muscled shoulders. His hands grope you, hungry as his mouth, rubbing your body with long hard strokes. In the back of your mind, you can see the others watching you with interest, licking their lips, touching themselves and their partners as you and he provide the round of erotic entertainment.

He slides one hand up your thigh, lifting the hem of your dress up over your hips, and the humid air brushes your body in one hot wave. He presses against you again, his poorly disguised erection hard against your belly. You move against him, trailing a hand down his body, pulling his shirt open and tasting the warm skin revealed.

Soon he's bare-chested, silk barely hanging on his body from exposed shoulders. Your hands are at his waist, unfastening the buttons of the leather restraining him. He's pushed your dress to above your waist, and pulled the bodice apart, freeing your breast to his fingers and lips, to the crowd's hungry gaze.

The smell of sex is thick in the humid air, men and women watching him ravish you here, wanting them to watch you fuck this deliciously wicked man. You smile at them teasing them with what you have, what they want: Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's yours, your plaything.

His hands are on yours now, pulling the fastenings to his trousers apart, freeing his throbbing shaft and rubbing the head against your curls. His eyes are gray, stormy, wild with his need. One hand slides behind your thigh and brings your leg up around him.

The moans from the crowd watching excite him and you and he thrusts into you deeply, clutching your ankle then sliding back across your thigh to cup your flesh. Your gasps and squeals tease the crowd, electrifying them and arousing him to a fevered pitch. Shredded silk falls to the floor as you claw at him, your nails leaving bloody marks across his back. You moan, "Now... Goddess help me, NOW!"

"NOW!" The crowd takes up your chant...

"NOW!" you scream, pulling his mouth down to yours...

"GODS YES!" He shouts, teeth clicking against yours in a violent kiss...

"NOW!"

And you scream your pleasure to the goddess, the gods, the crowd, to him. He's thrusting into you wildly, filling you again with liquid heat. The crowd moans with you, overwhelmed with lust, partners falling together to release their own pleasure. And he lifts his head from your shoulder, glassy-eyed, smiling weakly. "That was amazing..."

The room begins to fade and return to its neutral state. You fall to the floor with him, panting and gasping, letting his pleasure wash over you again. He smiles at you again, catching his breath.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he says between breaths. "I couldn't seem to stop..."

"No apologies needed, Obi-Wan," you reply, kissing him gently. "I hope you enjoyed that."

"Too much I think." He rolls to his side and watches you. "What about you? What would you enjoy?"

"This isn't for me," you answer softly, "it's for you. What you enjoy."

"What I would enjoy?" He asks. "I want to give you pleasure as well."

"And you do by letting me pleasure you," you say, fingering his braid.

"But what if I want..." He stops and you see that wicked smile again. "Yes..."

You stare at the room as it becomes a riot of silken draperies, oversized cushions, clouds of incense, and low music. Obi-Wan is now kneeling before you, clad in a black collar and nothing else. You hold a thin gold chain attached to his collar. It is a scene straight from your erotic texts. Your favorite text.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

He raises his head and you see green eyes dancing again. "What I want."

"And that is?"

*********

Your eyes widen at the sight of this beautiful man kneeling before you. "You don't understand, Obi-Wan..." you stammer.

He smiles. "I understand perfectly. But my fantasy is to please you, to be for you what you want me to be." And then he arches his back again, clasping his hands behind his back. He bows his head again. "I am yours, and will do as you command me."

"But..."

"It is what I wish, my fantasy."

And you're caught, not that you mind. You're swathed in two large silk scarves, one tied around your neck falling loosely over your breasts, the second tied around your waist, revealing an expanse of leg. You smile at him then as he kneels before you. "Stand up."

"As you wish," he purrs. He gets to his feet gracefully, balancing on long sculpted legs, arms falling gracefully to his sides, slight smile on his lips.

"Turn for me," you say, your voice a bit more sure.

He turns, the sleek muscles of his back curving into his narrow waist then flaring into golden skinned hips and thighs. His backside is tight, lean and beautiful and you draw your fingertips along his spine, down his back over the cleft of his cheeks. He shudders a bit as a spark of pleasure shoots through him.

"Walk for me," you tell him and he saunters across the room, hips swaying just so, his whole body a living breathing work of art. He turns and then is walking towards you, shaft hard, bobbing with every step he takes. He stops before you, then falls gracefully to his knees.

"How may I please you?" he asks again, his voice smooth and velvety. The heat in his gaze takes you off guard.

"You are enjoying this," you state.

"I enjoy giving pleasure as much as receiving it," he answers, reaching for your hand and pressing soft kisses to the pads of your fingertips. He nips at them with white teeth, nibbling them gently and sending shivers through you. "This surprises you?"

"Yes, but what I'm feeling now..."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes..."

He smiles wickedly. "Then how may I please you?"

You lay back on the cushions and reach for him. "I want you to pleasure me..." you hesitate, "with your mouth. I want you to taste me."

"As you wish." He kneels between your legs and soon his tongue is sending you to the edge slowly. His lips are on you as well, his hands stroking the insides of your thighs, massaging your calves, drawing you to his mouth.

You can't breath, you can't think, your senses are overwhelmed, your skin on fire. Breathy moans are all you can manage as he teases you. You grab his braid and pull on it. "Obi-Wan..."

He stops and looks into your eyes. "Yes?"

"I..."

"What do you wish?" he asks, still teasing you with expert fingertips.

"Come for me." You move against his hand as you prop yourself up on your elbows. "I want to hear you, see you." You sit up completely and push him back onto the pillows. Removing the scarf from your breasts, you bind his wrists together. "Do not move."

He stares up at you and nods his agreement. You then remove the silk from your waist and cast it aside. Then you slowly impale yourself on his shaft.

He sucks his breath in, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. A low moan escapes his lips as you slowly begin to ride. You lean over him, brushing your nipples over his lips, capturing his mouth in a brief kiss. You trace his lips with your tongue then sit up again, driving him deeper into you, growling throatily at his soft sounds.

He pushes up against you and you stop and lean over him again. "I said don't move."

He lowers his gaze looking away. "Forgive me."

You kiss him then and move against him once more, holding his wrists above his head with plunging his shaft into you again and again.

"Come for me Obi-Wan..."

"Yes, don't stop, please..." he begs, wanting to move again, You feel his legs tense as he struggles to control himself.

"Let it go," you purr, reaching behind you to caress his sac with your fingers. He shudders again, body tight as a bowstring.

"Please, may I move now?" His voice is a harsh whisper.

"No, come first," you are moving faster, harder.

"Please," he begs again, "I need..."

You find that spot at the base of his shaft and flick it lightly. He shouts his surprise and pleasure.

"Please..."

"Come Obi... come..."

You are soon lost in your own climax as he arches up into you screaming. His hips buck wildly, pumping with his release, and suddenly his hands are on your waist resuming the rhythm while filling you. You throw your head back and let the pleasure hit you, flood you, complete you. He's sitting now, still moving against you, sucking one nipple then the other into his mouth. You hold him to your breast as the spasms wrack your body. You feel as if you were set adrift and cling to him. With one final thrust you both fall back to the floor...

You wake some time later in his arms. The room is back to its neutral state and you realize your time together will soon be up.

"You never told me your name," he says, pulling you closer.

"I am whoever you want me to be," you answer simply.

"And if I want you to be you, who would that be?"

You smile then. "Whomever you wish."

"My master will be calling for me soon?"

"Yes." And you feel a bit of sadness knowing he will be leaving so soon.

"Somehow, 'Thank You' seems inadequate," he says brushing a kiss across your lips.

"Then don't say it," you respond.

"Live in the moment?" he asks, a bit of humor lacing through his words.

"This moment... yes..." You settle into his embrace again and fall into a sated slumber.