Rating: NC17 or X or Not for people who think hot and sweaty sex has no place in the GFFA
Summary: Second in a series of moments in the relationship of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Tal-Ishara Kender.
Disclaimers: SW and the boyos are Georges, Shara and Rees are mine, as is the story. No money made from this, done out of love.
Archive: Yep yep, go for it :)
Notes: Much proppage to Pumpkin for her Snapshot series. She's inspired a bunch of us to write more stuff, even little snips here and there. If you haven't read anything of hers, you are REALLY missing some good stuff and should get thee to her archive right after you read this, just so you know who this stuff should be done :) Also Much proppage and huggles to Tammy, Ky and Jenn, my lovely betas. Feedback adored.
"May I commend you, Obi. Your slave is as talented as she is lovely. Pity you don't wish to sell her, or even to share her. I could make it worth your while."
Obi-Wan nodded, gritting his teeth. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from breaking the man's hawk-like nose. "Thank you for the generous offer, your grace, but as I've said before, I do not share."
"Oh come now, you've never been tempted to sample other delicacies? Try something new and exciting in exchange for a taste of what is quite commonplace."
Damn Mace Windu for sending them here. Information gathering was one thing, but putting up with this nonsense, subjecting his partner to this ogling...
"If you find her so commonplace, then why the interest? She'll not have you, not that I'd give her leave to consider the offer."
The regent's lips pressed into a thin line. "As I've said, I enjoy a bit of the unusual, something new from time to time."
"Then perhaps you should start looking elsewhere." His tone clearly closed the discussion. Obi-Wan turned his attention back to his cup.
Ishara chose that moment to return with a small decanter of wine and knelt on the floor in front of him. Dressed in sheer silks that barely hid her perfumed skin, head bowed, hands curled around the glass, she was the perfect picture of obedience.
"Master," she said in a whisper soft voice, "I've brought wine. May I serve you now?"
Obi-Wan shot a glare at the regent, who stared at Ishara with undisguised lust. "Of course, pet." He held out his glass to her and smiled as their eyes met in silent understanding.
**Is he at it again?** she asked mentally.
//I swear, if this damn mission wasn't so important, I'd run him through and we'd be catching the first transport out of here.// Obi-Wan took a long swallow of his wine. //There's less water in this batch. Are you trying to get me drunk?//
**There wasn't much drinking water to be had, not that the idea hasn't occurred to me. You are... creative when inebriated...** Ishara gave him another demure look then took her place, kneeling at his right side.
The regent watched her every move, then smiled. "So well behaved, I envy you."
"Then it is definitely a good thing we are leaving at first light," Obi-Wan drawled, running a possessive hand over Ishara's shoulder. "I'd hate to cause you any more distress with my good fortune."
The regent's lips curled into a smile that hardly reached his eyes. "But before you go, I do hope you'll honor a request from the ruling house."
"What kind of request?"
The regent leaned back on his cushion. "Just that your slave participate in the C'tralon R'ahl."
"And that is..."
"The dance to bid honored travelers safe journey. And swift return."
Obi-Wan paused, as if considering, then nodded. "I see no reason she cannot."
The regent clapped his hands, summoning his own servants. "Excellent. My women will see she's properly prepared."
Obi-Wan squeezed Ishara's shoulder lightly. //I'm sorry, love.//
Ishara bowed low, then followed the chattering women. **You'll get yours later, Kenobi.**
*~*~*
He strode purposely to their ship, dragging her up the boarding ramp. Once aboard, he let go her wrist and smiled at her.
"You, madam, are incorrigible," he said, flopping onto a small bench.
Ishara laughed, seating herself on his lap. "It got us out of there, didn't it?" Obi-Wan harumphed, but chuckled soon afterwards.
"As a wicked slave master, doubling over in laughter isn't the most convincing or fear inspiring sights." He chuckled, "I should have punished you then and there,"
"Oh?" She turned around in his lap until she was straddling his legs before slowly moving her hips over his. "And how would you have punished me, master?" Her lips barely brushed against his as she drawled the last word.
He smiled, quickly joining her in this game. "Tali," he purred, "you have displeased me, pet."
"I am yours to discipline, my master."
He drew her into a harsh possessive kiss, pulling at the scarf that covered her hair. "You were taunting him, pet," he said, burning a trail with his lips over her skin. "You deliberately teased the regent, our host, with something he could not have."
"Yes, my master," she breathed, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling him to her breasts. "Forgive me, please..."
He began pressing wet kisses to her skin. "Why Tali? Your dance taunted the poor man. You know you are mine."
"A thousand pardons, my master, but I missed you. I've missed your attention."
"Show me." He pulled away roughly. "Dance for me."
She rose slowly and began the movements of the dance she performed this evening. His voice stopped her.
"No." His voice was low, husky. "Dance. For me. Show me who you belong to..."
And she studied Obi-Wan's expression a moment longer, seeing this was no longer a game they played. Then she started to dance.
Liquid movements, the sound of the bells, the way her body arched, bending and stretching, flowing from one pose to another. He knew he'd remember these moments for a long time. She opened herself to the Force, and to him and let their energy flow and mingle in and through her. It was an extremely erotic feeling for him, knowing how the silk felt on her body, the warmth of her muscles under the body paint, the sudden coolness as she pulled a scarf away from her body. When she finished, kneeling before him, one word raced through his mind.
Ravish.
And she found herself pinned to the floor, his hands tearing away the remaining scarves.
"Did I please you master," she gasped, her hands working their way into his shirt.
"Gods, yes." He swore softly as his hand snagged on the bells at her waist.
He pulled her to her feet, casting the metal string away before pressing her bodily against the bulkhead, lifting her feet off the floor. Rending the last of her costume, he stepped away long enough to unfasten his belt and lower his trousers. He then swept her with another glance and she felt she would catch fire.
"Shara..." he growled, pinning her to the wall again. To hell with control, he wanted, needed her now. He bit into her neck, hands fumbling to draw her closer, leaving marks on her perfumed flesh. She tangled her hands in his hair, inhaling sharply as his beard raked over her shoulders, across her hardened nipples. Crying out to the Gods, she pulled him closer as he nipped the rosy buds, sweeping his tongue over her skin.
"Gods, Ben," she chanted, breath coming in ragged bursts. "Please..."
His hands were on her legs, pulling them around him, wrapping them around his waist as he thrust into her. She arched into him, pulling at his collar before sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. He clutched at her back, then pulled her away from his body, still moving within her, green eyes meeting black.
"Mine..." he grunted, pressing her into the wall, never breaking the rhythm of his hips. His eyes were still on hers, lips curling slightly as her orgasm showed on her face.
She screamed her climax rocking back and forth, drawing him deeper into her, seeing his eyes darken as he let his restraint finally loose. Beads of perspiration formed on his lip, across his forehead and he leaned his head again into her shoulder. Her lips brushed across his earlobe and she breathed one word.
"Yours..."
He came with a shout, eyes tightly shut, her fingers twined with his pressing into the now warm metal. His hips jerked wildly as spasms of pleasure, desire, raw urgent need tore through him, nearly turning him inside out. With a final shudder, he slumped against her, sagging weakly against the bulkhead, drawing in deep ragged breaths. They slid to the floor, not bothering to move as the metallic chill cooled their tangled, sweat covered bodies.
fin
