Here is my entry for @ndekvart's DTIYS challenge. When she announced that it would be her Sith Obi-Wan, I knew I had to participate. What if Lorna and Obi-Wan went to the Dark Side? Their love life would become a whole lot spicier, for one.
I also wrote a one-shot to accompany it. It's... a little different than their usual dynamic hehehe. (Rated M)
Dark Desire and Tainted Bliss
Lorna’s lightsabers whirled in tight arcs, red blades spitting sparks where his dual-sided saber intercepted each strike. She channeled the Force into her attacks, amplifying their power, but he matched her blow for punishing blow. Her arms burned with fatigue.
Obi-Wan, on the other hand, looked maddeningly unfazed.
Frustration flared hot in her chest, and she took a steadying breath, her shoulders relaxing as she centered herself.
“Don’t quell your anger, my dear. Use it,” he said, deflecting another flurry of her attacks. That insufferable, smug smile tugged at his lips.
“That’s what I’m doing, Master,” she retorted, putting just a touch of breathless emphasis on the title.
His golden eyes flashed. Molten. Dangerous.
She wasn't his student anymore—not really—but they both knew how that particular word affected him. How it had taken on new meaning. A convenient button to push.
She swung her leg high in a surprise kick aimed at his head. The heel of her boot connected with his mouth, snapping his head sideways and mussing the meticulously maintained goatee he favored.
A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as he worked his jaw, then carefully smoothed the pointed tips of his mustache back to a refined point between thumb and forefinger.
“Better,” he said, eyes narrowing in predatory amusement. “I do enjoy when you fight dirty.”
His saber wheeled overhead, and she raised her arms to block the strike. Their blades locked. Scarlet light flickered where the plasma crackled, casting shadows throughout the dimmed training room. The glow bathed his face in warmth, highlighting the distractingly handsome features.
“I can think of a few other things about me that you enjoy,” she said, letting her voice drop to a husky register.
Sweat dripped down her temples, rivulets tracing a path down her neck. His eyes drifted along with them, watching as they disappeared into her décolletage. She wondered if he was imagining tracing that same path with his tongue. Her stomach fluttered the way it always did when she was at the center of his attention.
“And which one are you thinking of now?” His voice was smooth velvet, laced with the certainty of his effect on her.
He pushed her sabers aside with such force that it knocked her off balance, spinning her body away from him.
His palm connected with her ass hard enough to sting, the skin tingling beneath her tight synth-leather pants. The sharp contact sent electricity straight to her center, and she had to bite back a moan.
“You left your back wide open,” he said with a disapproving click of his tongue. “Careless.”
Her fists clenched, the knuckles around her lightsaber hilt whitening. The clinical assessment of her failure stung her pride. She hated how easily he outmaneuvered her, hated each display of casual superiority. Even more, she hated how much it thrilled her. She dashed forward, charging him with an indignant growl.
He didn’t flinch. Just stood there, infuriatingly calm, as she rushed him. With a bored flick of his wrist, he wrenched her lightsabers from her hands. They flew to opposite sides of the room, clamoring against the polished floors.
She didn’t even see him move.
Before she could blink, her back was pushed up against the wall, her arms pinned over her head beneath the long hilt of his lightsaber. She could already feel the bruises forming as the warm metal pressed into the sensitive skin of her wrists.
“Honestly, darling, you can do better than that,” he purred, leaning over her. She inhaled sharply, letting his scent fill her lungs—the spice of sapir tea with notes of his favorite Chandrilan whiskey. His hand came up to her face, a fingertip dragging feather-light across her jaw line.
“Your ego is astounding,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
Without warning, he thrust his knee between her thighs. This time, she couldn’t hold back the strangled moan that escaped from her throat.
“Such insolence,” he whispered, his breath hot on the shell of her ear. The hand at her jaw trailed lower, silken touch skimming the exposed swell of her breasts, then slipping just under the edge of the low-cut fabric.
She rolled her hips shamelessly against his thigh, where the firm muscle pressed into her heat. Her breath hissed through her teeth when she found the friction she’d been seeking.
He shifted closer, his hips pinning hers to the wall and stilling her desperate movements. “Not yet, my wicked girl.”
She glowered at him, exasperated, her lips pulling into a pout. His thumb traced that defiant curve, demanding entry. She pressed her lips together in refusal, but he pushed past her resistance, the pad finding the sharp edges of her bottom teeth.
“Tell me what you want first.”
“You know what I want,” she growled, straining against his iron grip to thrust her hips forward, grinding against the hard evidence of his desire.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he murmured. A devilish smirk twisted his lips. She was tempted to kiss it right off his face.
But then his free hand rose to hover near her face. Invisible fingers wrapped around her throat. Her pulse lashed beneath them.
At his command, the Dark Side coiled around them like serpents, and she opened herself to it eagerly. Stars, his power. She could drown in it. The way the Force bent to his will—it unraveled her, reduced her to a puddle of hopeless want.
She closed her eyes, letting it surround her, seeping into her bones until nothing else mattered. Nothing but what he offered, what he alone could give.
When she opened her eyes, she knew what he would see in them. Every wanton thought, every depraved craving. Every part of her soul he possessed.
But she already knew it wouldn’t be enough.
“Say it,” he commanded. The unseen grip on her throat tightened.
She braced herself, knowing that once she spoke the words aloud, there would be no pretending this was anything but complete capitulation.
“Take me,” she whispered. Her voice was so quiet, she wasn’t sure he’d hear. “Please.”
His smile was pure, vainglorious satisfaction. He deactivated his lightsaber, the hum of the blades cutting to silence as they retracted over her head. Air rushed into her lungs as he released his hold on her throat.
“Here?” His lips brushed against hers, then pulled back teasingly. “Now?”
His hand sank into her waves, tugging gently to tilt her head back so his mouth could explore lower. His thumb grazed over the taut curve of her nipple through her top.
“Obi-Wan…” she whined. Her whole body shuddered, and her eyes drifted closed.
He made a soft, amused sound into the skin at the hollow of her throat. “As you wish.”
The soft click of his lightsaber as it settled on the floor was the last thing she registered before his mouth claimed hers at last. And then she was lost, utterly consumed by the sensation of hands and lips and tongue as he fulfilled her darkest, most primal need. The heady promise of surrender. The sweet relinquishment of control.
