You'll never be completely sure how you let yourself get roped into this, but you're relatively sure that this is one dare that you will never, ever be able to live down.
And at twenty-two, you're far too old to be accepting dares. Especially childish dares from you arch-nemesis--hell, even /having/ an arch-nemesis is something you should have left behind long ago.
But she challenged you, in the same tone she used to use when you were eight and trying to prove that being the smallest in the group didn't make you the baby. She could get you to do anything back then by staring down her nose at you and using that 'mightier-than-thou' tone of voice--and you're more than a little ashamed that you rose as quickly to the challenge tonight as you would have twelve years ago.
Your challenge is sitting across the bar from you, half-hidden in a corner. He doesn't appear to be drinking, which would put him in unique company in a place like this. He looks out of place--almost as out of place as you. You don't even really like bars--you haven't drank since that night, two years ago, when--
No. Now is not the time for thoughts of the past. Now is the time to turn around, walk away from the bar, and tell the bitch where to shove her immature, childish challenges.
It had all started so innocently too. A spontaneous dinner with a few old friends--all of whom had sworn left and right that they didn't know /she/ was coming. You had remained civil throughout the meal, ignoring the taunts about your job, your looks, your lack of a man in your life.
You'd endured it throughout the meal. You'd ignored it when she continued over drinks at a nearby bar. What you couldn't ignore was when she started boasting about how unbelievably /happy/ she was with your ex-fiancee--the man she had stolen practically out of your arms--and how unbelievably happy /he/ was with /her/.
Like he hadn't been with you. She even said it outloud, the bitch.
And it had all gone downhill from there. The resumption of your life-long bickering, her insinuation that you couldn't really blame your ex, considering that you really couldn't please a man. Her flat out statement that you couldn't pick up a man if you tried--and your counter statement that you could get any man in the bar if you wanted, which was a blatant bluff--you didn't know if you could pick up a half-drunk desperate teenager right now.
Perversity drove you to accept the challenge, and you crossed your arms across your chest and lazily demanded that she pick your target--just to make things interesting of course.
You hadn't quite understood the smug smile on her face as she pointed to a rather attractive man in the corner. Several of your companions tittered or broke out into outright laughter--but that hadn't been enough to dissuade you.
"Not a problem," you stated coolly, ignoring the warning glance from your best friend. You were already a few steps away from the table before your friend caught your arm.
"He's a Jedi," she hissed in your ear, spinning you around to face her. "That's why they're all laughing. And because the Bitch has tried to pick this one up before--and he set her right down on her ass."
Great. Bitch she may be, but she's one of the sexiest women you've ever met. If this guy blew her off, he'd probably mind whammy you into leaving him alone before you get within five feet of the table.
"You know I can't turn back now," you said softly, ignoring the way your friend rolled her eyes. "It's my pride."
"Yeah--and it'll still be your pride when you're trying to woo one of the stoic unflappable Jedi." Giving you an exasperated look, your friend returned to the bar, shaking her head.
And leaving you staring across the bar at one of the most attractive men you've ever met, with no idea of how to proceed.
You haven't gone looking for men in a long time. You'd been convinced your fiancee was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with--finding out that he was cheating on you with the Bitch had nearly broken your heart, and watching him calmly pack his bags to leave you for her had shattered you. It had been two and a half years since that day--with only a few one time dates to break up the otherwise monotonous string of lonely evenings.
You take another look at the man. He's sitting by himself, obviously lost in thought. You're convinced he must be waiting for someone--why else would he be sitting in a crowded bar when he was obviously not drinking?
You move a little closer, ducking behind a large group of people and coming up slightly behind him, giving you a good view of his table. He has a notebook in front of him, and every once in a while he'll bend down and add a few strokes to something he's working on.
Inching up you see to your surprise that it's a sketchpad--the man is apparently drawing various characters from the bar, interspersing them across the page as he idly adds lines and smudges, making it look like it's effortless.
Your breath catches as you take a second look--he's /good/. Really, really good.
You're so caught up in his sketch pad that you don't realize he's noticed you until a gentle cough brings you out of your daze. Turning your head, you're promptly lost again as you meet a pair of the most brilliant eyes you've ever seen. There is no color that can describe them, a mixture of gray and green and blue and gold . . . You finding yourself casting through the various languages your job as a translator requires you to speak--and come up with no word in any language that does him justice.
"Can I help you?" he asks, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly.
Damn. You can't win with this man--his voice is as beautiful as the rest of him, and you find yourself marveling at the smooth refined tones, the depth and quality of the sound. You can't help but imagine what it would be like to hear him sing . . . to hear him moan . . .
"Not all that impressive, I'm sure--and I can't sing a note."
You blink once before you realize the implications of what he just said. ::Damn bastard is /reading/ me,:: you think, slamming up the shields you were taught to erect as part of your training as Temple staff. You had scoffed at the lessons then--although you're technically employed by the Jedi Temple, you have very little contact with the actual Jedi. You have always worked from home, doing obscure translations and the occasional consulting--only having contact with the librarian and Mace Windu, the man who actually pays you. Now, however, you're glad for the protection shielding offers you.
Now it's his turn to blink, as he feels the shields slide up around your mind, blocking him out effectively. The tips of his ears turn pink--you presume from being caught snooping--and you can't help but smile.
"Was I not supposed to notice that you'd answered one of my thoughts?" you ask him, taking the liberty of plopping down in the chair across from his booth. You're going to win this challenge if it kills you.
"You'd be surprised how many people don't," the man responds wryly, reaching out to casually flip his sketchbook closed before reaching out a hand to you. "I'm Obi-Wan, and I believe I owe you a drink for being so presumptuous."
Damn, this might actually be easy. He's trying to pick /you/ up!
"I don't drink," you respond automatically, flashing a smile at him. "And I understand that you weren't trying to snoop. I've been told before that I have a rather loud mind--and when I'm not shielding I've been known to make my feelings known by Jedi two levels down."
"You were broadcasting rather loudly," Obi-Wan responds, smiling at you in return. The smile brings dimples to his face--::/Dimples/! The man has /dimples/!::--and you have to suppress a gasp at how beautiful he is. "And here I was hoping it was because you were excited about me."
Your heart stops as he lets his eyelids droop over his eyes, gazing at you through the thick lashes with one of the most seductive looks you've ever seen in your life.
Pick him up. You're supposed to pick him up. Sweet Lord--right now you'd settle for tossing him down and launching yourself at him.
His strong fingers are suddenly on yours, twining with them and drawing your hand up to his mouth. He graces your knuckles with a soft kiss, parting his lips minutely to let his tongue slip out and trace lightly against your skin. You let out a barely audible moan as he turns your wrist over, attacking the inside of your wrist with feather-like kisses that turn into rather enthusiastic sucking.
"How about we skip the drink," he says suddenly, grabbing his sketch pad in one hand and tucking it in his belt behind his back before grasping your hand in his. "I think a little fresh air is in order."
Before you can even blink he's steering you across the bar, leading you within inches of the Bitch and the rest of your friends. She's got a positively murderous look on her face, but your best friend is grinning ear to ear.
A few feet past your friend's table Obi-Wan suddenly stops, spinning you and pinning you up against the wall within arm's reach of the Bitch. "Enjoy this," he murmurs softly in your ear, flashing you a mischievous smile as he presses his long body against yours, trapping you against the wall.
Strong hands grasp your face suddenly, tilting your head back as a pair of warm lips descend upon your own, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. You can hardly think enough to respond, but Obi-Wan hardly seems to need encouragement. One hand strays to the back of your head, sinking in your hair as his mouth slants sideways across yours, urging your lips open with a few flicks of his persistent tongue.
Almost against your will your hands slide up his chest, wrapping around his neck and hanging on for dear life as he continues to slowly deepen the kiss, tongue stroking against yours now in an intoxicating dance. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, nibbling on the tip before pulling back to suck on your lower lip gently.
"Let's go back to my place," he murmurs rather loudly, one arm wrapping around you and urging you back into motion. You have just enough time to see the others at your table giving the Bitch a hard time before you're whisked out the door.
Outside, Obi-Wan releases you with a wide grin. "I think that should win your bet, don't you?" he asks mischievously, moving to lean back against the wall, arms draped over his chest. "And shut that woman up for at least a little while."
You stare at him for a few moments in shock. He /knew/ about the bet. He must have heard you thinking about it as you approached him--::/Damn/ my loud mind,::--and he had decided to play along . . .
. . . which meant the kiss had been an act. For a few moments you're disappointed--but thinking about what the Bitch must be going through right now sends you off into hysterical laughter, barely able to breath. "Oh dear gods--if only I could have seen her face," you gasp out, trying to control your laughter. "It must have been classic!"
Obi-Wan holds out a hand, his own chest starting to shake with laughter. "C'mere--I got a glance of it. Lower your shields and I'll show you." Grasping your outstretched hand he pulls you closer, still smiling. "I'll admit, it was pretty funny."
You let down your shields, not sure what is going to happen but willing to trust him. An image suddenly forms in your mind, and you close your eyes to better appreciate it.
You see the Bitch, staring back at you with an expression of shocked disgust on her face. Through Obi-Wan's eyes she seems almost ugly, her perfectly styled hair seeming fake, her make-up overdone, and her personality shining through, giving her a nasty aura. ::So that's what it's like to see emotions,:: you think absently.
::Her aura is repulsive,:: Obi-Wan responds to your thought, amusement flowing across to you as you start at the voice in your head. ::Despite her physical appeal, it makes her ugly.::
The view shifts to another woman--this one resembling you. Only it's not you--at least, not the person you see in the mirror every morning. Obi-Wan's version of you is stunning, sparkling eyes and vibrant personality glowing from your face.
Before you can properly marvel at this new view of yourself, Obi-Wan's eyes slide closed, blocking off your vision. There's darkness for a few moments, and then a tiny slit of light as Obi-Wan apparently cracked his eyes open, glancing at the Bitch.
Her face is worth it. Her mouth is hanging half-open, her eyes narrowed to little slits. Jealousy, anger, defeat--all dance merrily around her face, even as one of your friends leans over to mock her.
Then the view shifts back to you, and you catch your breath at the vision of yourself, flushed cheeks--head tilted back and eyes half open, containing beauty that you don't have in real life, sparkling and vibrant and alive--
An arch of desire shoots through the picture, destroying it. Your eyes fly open and you stare up at Obi-Wan, not moving. He's gazing down at you, eyes burning with desire--real desire this time--and a question.
"I don't usually," he starts, voice harsh. "I mean, I don't ever--"
"I know," you respond, your voice just as ragged. The question in his eyes is answered in yours, and you feel your body moving suddenly. Your back impacts the wall as you're lifted, crushed into it by a hard body. Arms and legs go around him even as he leans in, claiming your mouth almost frantically.
Lips crush together and open, his tongue swarming into your mouth and exploring with unbridled enthusiasm. You moan deep in your throat, tangling hands in his hair and trying to get him closer to you by thrusting your hips against his urgently. He's moaning too now, short little sounds of need as he tilts his head sideways, trying to get deeper within your mouth even as he grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the hardness there.
Voices from around the corner bring you both out of your haze. Obi-Wan pulls back, letting his head fall against the wall behind you as he gasps for breath.
"I, my place is--" you start nervously, unsure what you're doing. You don't bring guys home. Especially guys you've never met before.
But he's a Jedi. And if there's one thing you've learned working for the Temple, it's that Jedi can be trusted.
"Are you sure?" he asks softly, pulling his head back to meet your eyes.
You smile, leaning forwards to place a kiss between his eyes. "Only if you are," you say softly.
Obi-Wan groans as he lowers you to the ground, pulling you against his body again. "Don't want to let go of you," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your neck. You let out a whimper as he attaches lips to the pulse on your throat, sucking hard.
"If we don't go now, we're not going to make it," you whisper, hands sliding down his back to cup his butt, squeezing the rock hard muscle with a shiver. His entire body is like that--hard and lean and powerful. A delighted shiver runs through your body as his hands mirror yours, sliding down to rub your hips and lower thighs.
"Let's go," he whispers against your neck. His fingers come up to twine with yours, pulling you into moving. "Where are we going?"
You glance around, trying to get your bearings--and effort that is destroyed as Obi-Wan moves behind you, pressing his body against yours. He /is/ all lean muscle, heat radiating from him. And there's something rather more hard poking you in the small of the back.
You dazedly head off in the direction of your apartment, hoping against all hope that you'll make it before you explode.
How you make it back without touching each other is debatable. He is obviously dressed as a Jedi, and you know that decorum is as much a part of him as breathing--but the sweaty grasp he has on your hand tells you louder than words that he's fighting for every shred of dignity.
Thankfully your apartment is close, and somehow you both make it into the lift without giving away your frantic need to be naked with one another--right now you're not to picky about particulars as long as clothing isn't involved.
The door has only barely slid closed when Obi-Wan plants his hands on your backside, lifting you up and pressing you into the wall with his body. Once again your legs go around him, pulling him closer as he tilts his head sideways and captures your mouth with his.
Entranced as you are with the play of his tongue against yours, it takes you a few moments to realize that the lift has stopped--and not at your floor. Yanking away, you stare over Obi-Wan's shoulder at the old couple who has stepped into the lift, both gazing at you with a combination of shock and amusement.
Obi-Wan follows your gaze and lowers you immediately, blushing a brilliant scarlet. "Terribly sorry," he starts, eyes widening as the woman totters over to you and pats you on the face before leaning closer to you.
"Better watch out for this one, deary--" she tells you in a stage whisper that could easily be heard fifty feet away. "Those Jedi never seem to get tired. They'll go all night if you let them."
Obi-Wan's eyes are as wide as saucers as the woman turns to him, reaching up to pinch his cheek. "You ever get bored you look me up, eh cutie?" she says, her wrinkled little face breaking out into a smile. Then, with a perfectly straight face, she reaches out to smack Obi-Wan on that beautifully formed backside.
"Hey now," the older man protests, reaching out to the old woman's hand, pulling her back to him.
"When's the last time you pushed me up against a wall?" the old woman demands, winking at you as the lift whirs to a stop. "You remember what I said, dearie," she tells you, leading the old man out of the lift.
As the door slides closed you risk a look at Obi-Wan. He's still standing still, eyes wide, mouth slightly gaping, and cheeks flaming. The expression on his face is so comical that you slide to the floor, giggling, biting your hand to keep from outright laughing.
"Oh, you think that's funny?" Obi-Wan demands, spinning to glare down at you. Without a word he swoops down and picks you up, flinging you over one well muscled shoulder and ignoring your laughing protests. "We'll just see. How do you know she wasn't telling the truth? Maybe I /can/ go all night."
There's really nothing you can think of to say to that--well, nothing that wouldn't sound like a challenge, and you're not sure you're quite ready to issue a challenge to a man who is currently carting you around like a sack of grain.
The lift door whisks open on your floor, and Obi-Wan steps out into the blessedly empty hallway. "Which room?" he asks, one hand starting to massage your upper thigh gently. His hand is warm through the fabric of your thin pants, and it takes all of your self-control to speak calmly.
"Seventeen forty-five," you say softly, ignoring the bolts of pleasure that arch through you as his hand creeps up further. You can see the ground moving by as he starts to walk, long strides bringing him quickly to the correct door. He spins, bringing your face level with the keypad, and you quickly enter the code and palm the door open.
Once inside you find yourself deposited on the floor next to the door, Obi-Wan spinning and placing hand on either side of your head, leaning down so that his face is on level with yours.
"If you don't want to do this, tell me now," he says softly, meeting your eyes. They're uncertain, and you realize with a shock that you had lifted your shields again, blocking him from reading your pleasure and desire.
Reaching up you grasp each of his hands in one of yours, leading them down to your upper thighs. Wrapping your arms around him you bounce up into the air, wrapping your legs around him and trusting him to keep his balance.
He does, hands coming to clench your ass tightly as he pushes you back into the wall.
"Isn't this where we left off before?" you ask, lowering your shields and letting your thoughts spill out at the top of your rather loud mental voice. "We keep getting to this point, but people keep interrupting us. I rather like it here."
Obi-Wan is frozen for a moment as your lust spills over him, but he recovers quickly, grinding his hips into yours as his mouth descends to yours, tongue demanding instant entrance.
Your lips part to accommodate him, and you groan loudly as his tongue twines around yours, sliding back and forth with the same rhythm of his rocking hips. Short breathy noises start coming from your throat--a cross between a whimper and a moan.
"Bed?" he gasps, tearing his lips away to attack your jawline, tongue sliding up and down the sensitive flesh until he reaches your earlobe, biting down. You let out a loud moan, thinking the location of your bedroom at him with all of your might.
A few moments later you're both stumbling towards the room, Obi-Wan trying to unbutton your shirt as you grope frantically at the strange clasp on his pants. He trips over a pair of your shoes just inside the doorway to your bedroom, going down and bringing you on top of him with the distinct sound of ripping fabric.
"Sorry--" he gasps out, holding up the ripped edge of your shirt. You capture his lips with yours, grinding yourself against him. You could care less about your shirt right now--all you want is for him to repeat the gesture on your bra.
Strong nimble fingers start groping at your back, finding the clasps that holds your bra together and fumbling with them. You shoot him a mental picture of how to undo the clasps, amused at his lack of knowledge.
Your amusement fades into need as he succeeds, freeing your breasts to swing above his chest. Without losing a beat his hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you away from his mouth so that he can catch one of your already hard nipples between his lips, tugging on it insistently.
You let out a loud keening noise, arching your back to press more of yourself into his mouth. He suckles obediently for a few minutes, hands still tangled in your hair and massaging the back of your head.
You whimper in protest as he pulls back, but a few minutes later you feel his clothed torso against yours, lifting you to toss you the few remaining feet to the bed. He's with you a few minutes later, long fingers working frantically at the ties to his tunic as your hands come up to unclasp his belt and pull on his sash.
When he settles his bare chest on top of yours you sigh happily, arching up to press yourself more firmly against his chest. He wiggles a little bit, letting you feel the hard pressure against your hip.
"Pants--" you gasp out. "Get rid of them."
"Anxious, aren't you?" Obi-Wan responds, but you're pleased to hear that his voice is every bit as breathless as yours. He obediently rises up to his knees, fingers working to unclasp his trousers.
As soon as he has them shoved down over his hips you pull him back down, shoving the fabric the rest of the way down his legs with your feet. With only a thin layer of fabric between you and his erection, the searing heat and throbbing hardness is painfully obvious.
Squirming out from underneath him you nudge him onto his back, gazing down at him. He's sprawled out almost drunkenly on your bed, eyes half closed and chest rising and falling erratically. His hands reach for you, but you swat them back to the bed, determined to fill him with the same burning need that he's inspired in you.
Your hands land on the bulge in his thin undergarment, eliciting a loud moan from him. Ignoring the way his hips lurch off the bed you start to slowly inch the cloth down, lavishing the skin revealed with kisses and licks.
When his erection bounces free and you grace the tip with a kiss, Obi-Wan growls loudly, arching off the bed. Before you know what's happening gentle currents of air have snatched you up, tugging you insistently towards the head of the bed.
Obi-Wan looks wild as he rises from his reclined position, long fingers frantically tugging on the buttons of your pants. In only a few moments he's stripped them from your body, diving down with a low rumble to press a kiss against your already wet panties.
Now it's your turn to arch off the bed as he rumbles in approval, fingers coaxing the unwanted fabric down your legs. For a moment he freezes, gazing up across your body at you, urging you to meet his eyes.
You do--and for a moment disorientation seizes you as you catch the image of yourself, sprawled wantonly on the bed, eyes wide and passionate, head tilted back in ecstasy. You feel the gentle tug of his mind around yours as he spreads your legs with careful hands before running his thumb quickly over your clit, eliciting a moan as you body arches into the touch.
"Don't--don't tease," you manage to gasp out as he does it again, leaning down to nibble on your inner thigh. "Please . . . ."
"Patience," is his only response, a somewhat muffled one at that since he's decided to bury his face between your legs. All you can feel is the heat of his tongue as it snakes out to taste you--all you can hear are his soft moans and your own harsh breathing as one of his fingers slicks into you.
Feeling the presence of his mind still wrapped around yours, you think a single word at him with all of your might. ::Now!::
::Yes,:: he responds, and suddenly he's there--on top of you, over you, in you--
You gasp out in pain as he slides in, pain that he shares with you through your linked minds. "You're not--" he gasps out, eyes clenched shut. "You didn't tell me--"
"I'm not--" you reply, color rising up in your cheeks. "I just--" What should you tell him? That you haven't had sex in two years because of a bad experience? Okay--maybe you're a little tight, and maybe he's a little large
Suddenly he's not in you any more, and you cry out in loss, even as the pain recedes. "Shhhh . . ." he soothes from above you, catching your lips in his and kissing you tenderly as his fingers creep down to slip inside you, moving gently.
You can /feel/ the strange energy vibrating within you as he soothes the muscles into relaxing. It's almost unbearably erotic, and the combination of his fingers moving within you and his mouth on yours is so overpowering you can barely even think.
Then his fingers are gone, and there is something else pressing at you again. This time he inches in slowly, pausing as you adjust to his considerable size. His mouth never leaves yours, hands coming up to tangle in your hair and massage your scalp.
For a few minutes he simply lays on top of you, breathing heavily with his face buried in your neck. Even when you start thrusting your hips, demanding movement, he still remains still--pulling back to stare down into your eyes.
"Not yet," he says softly, his eyes dilated and breath short from the effort of staying still.
Wrapping your legs around his back you arch up, grinding into him. "Now," you respond. He groans as you repeat the gesture, his head falling back on his shoulders leaving the expanse of his neck open to you.
Taking advantage of it you reach up to kiss the throbbing pulse beneath the skin of his throat, sucking at the sensitive skin even as you grind your hips into his again.
"Now," you repeat.
"Now," he agrees.
And then his hands are on your hips, holding you steady as he pulls back and begins slow, careful thrusts, angling each one to torture all the little spots inside you that no one had ever taken the time to find before. On the first thrust you scream out, head thrashing weakly on your pillow as your hands grip the blankets.
After a little while his thrusts start to speed up, and he drops back closer to you, weight braced on elbows on either side of your head. You reach up and tangle hands in his hair, kissing him frantically as the speed of his thrusts continues to increase. He's moaning, deep rumbling noises starting in his chest--rising louder and louder in counterpart to your own.
You can feel yourself being propelled towards climax, can feel him right behind you as his pleasure wraps itself again and again around your mind. When the long fingers sneak down to tease your bundle of nerves, you break away from his mouth and scream, your muscles starting to contract around him.
Obi-Wan grunts, increasing his attentions as his hips piston faster. Suddenly he's calling out too, sinking his face into your shoulder as he thrusts deeply into you one last time, his release so powerful that it tugs your mind with it as you spiral up again, the last thing you hear your name being called out by a frantic voice.
You drift into awareness with his mouth on your ear, kissing you and mumbling your name as his hand traces invisible patterns on your back. Eyes drifting open you find yourself under the blankets, cradled against Obi-Wan's chest with his leg thrown over yours protectively.
"You think you can keep /that/ up all night?" It's the first thing that pops into your mind, but apparently Obi-Wan finds it amusing. His gentle laugh tickles your ear, making you squirm weakly. You're too boneless to do anything else.
"Well . . ." his voice is low and seductive in your ear, and he lifts his head to meet your eyes. "Probably not all night," he whispers, nuzzling your face with his nose. "If properly persuaded, however, I'm probably up to a couple of encores."