Once again, he was in the suite at Five Hundred Republica, waiting. He waited for no one. Yet, here he was, being jilted by a pointless princess from a pathetic planet and livid about it. He’d even invited you to the personal residence he kept on Coruscant rather than one of the posh hotels he usually preferred for such rendezvous because
Because, uncharacteristically, the Sith Lord wanted to impress you.
-----------------------
Pairing: Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!reader
Rating: 18+ only - Minors DNI
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: unprotected p in v, dom/sub dynamics, inappropriate use of The Force, overstimulation, wee bit of edging, rough sex, consensual light choking, obsessive obi-wan
Summary: In the face of your continued defiance, the Sith lord’s dark side emerges, and you become even more intrigued by one another.
Several events had passed since that last dalliance with the Sith Lord. Weeks passed. You went about the work of being a senator, although more openly. More willing to garner attention. You attended meetings and dinner parties and galas, all the while conducting shielded conversations peppered with faux laughter. You’d also taken to addressing the senate and occasionally engaging in debate. Currently, you floated in your repulsorpod in the senate chamber arguing with another senator about labor rights and a bill you’d sponsored to codify them. Your opponent sputtered angrily, face contorted. He was unaccustomed to being challenged.
“With all due respect, sir,” you taunted. “It’s very difficult to conduct a meaningful debate while you’re this . . . emotional. I move to postpone.”
Later that day, Lord Kenobi contacted you. No box containing a gown. Just a slip of flimsi in an envelope with a time and address at Five Hundred Republica. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t. There was so much work to be done and you’d made commitments to that time frame that could not be broken without causing a diplomatic incident.
There was too much to do. All of it too important to neglect. The summons went unanswered.
As did the next.
And the next.
*
Obi-Wan Kenobi seethed with rage.
Once again, he was in the suite at Five Hundred Republica, waiting. He waited for no one. Yet, here he was, being jilted by a pointless princess from a pathetic planet and livid about it. He’d even invited you to the personal residence he kept on Coruscant rather than one of the posh hotels he usually preferred for such rendezvous because . . . .
Because, uncharacteristically, the Sith Lord wanted to impress you. You’d gotten under his skin and plagued his thoughts. He’d seen holos of you in the senate, not so much debating as much as slaying opponents. With each holo and each spurn, he became more furious and more intrigued.
Patience, always a struggle, evaporated. He already knew where you stayed on Coruscant- had gone about learning everything after that first night he’d caught you staring and lit the spark of infatuation that was now a blinding blaze. Not tonight, but sometime soon, he would pay a visit.
*
Finally. A moment. A quiet moment.
Nothing on the schedule tonight. No galas or meetings or strategic dinner parties. No staying late at the office. Just a glass of wine, a hot bath, and a backlog of your favorite trashy holodrama. You smeared on a face mask and melted into the tub, body relaxing for the first time in who even knew anymore.
The first sip had just breeched your lips when doorbell rang. Dank ferrick.
“This better be urgent,” you barked through the comm.
“It’s urgent to me,” the lush voice on the other end said. “Clearly not to you.”
Obi-Wan. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
“May I come in?” He nearly choked on the words, so used to simply doing what he wanted.
He was genuinely asking for consent. Lord Kenobi could easily enter the residence regardless of your response. Yet he was asking permission. You decided to grant it. And decided you would not ask a moment to get decent and would not move from this tub. It was too comfortable, and you were too tired. You unlocked the door and allowed him in.
Obi-Wan entered your modest abode and took in what bits of you were there. A few small potted plants. A formal, stern photo of you in full princess regalia alongside to an older woman- presumably your queen mother. Next to it, a photo of a younger, joyful you with a few friends on a beach somewhere. That was it. Everything else in the room was prefabricated and soulless as if you were always ready to leave and never look back.
“I’m in here,” you called.
He followed your voice to the ‘fresher and grinned at the sight.
“May I join you?”
“Of course.”
He’d slowly undressed, allowing you to take all of him in for the first time. Fair and lean and statuesque as if molded by the Maker itself. A network of scars told a story of violence and served as a reminder of what he was: a Sith, corrupted and evil. Recklessly, you wanted him anyway. You slid forward, granting space to step into the hot bath and pull you to lean back against him. The feeling of that reddish chest hair . . . legs wrapped over yours, holding them apart. A hand drifted between to rest between them, unmoving. Despite the hot water, you shivered.
“Is this what you do while spurning me?” The tone wasn’t incredulous. Curious more than anything. He took the wine glass from your hand and sipped.
“I’ve not been spurning you. I’ve been working,” you countered, pulling away from the cage he’d formed and turning to face him. “Had you given a way to contact you, I would have said as much. Have you considered asking rather than ordering?”
Lord Kenobi of the Sith was expected to . . . make an appointment? Fury spiraled from his heart, burning in his chest and up to the base of his skull. Jaw clenched. Pupils blown wide with anger. For the first time, a gratifying fear crossed your eyes. Good. He wanted you afraid. However, that fear quickly rearranged into rebelliousness, and he would not let it stand this time. He had a mind to snatch you up right there and lock you away to use as he pleased.
No. You’d inspired something else in him: respect. And he’d promised not to do anything to you that wasn’t wanted.
He roughly grasped your chin. “When?” he said through gritted teeth.
“I’ll clear my schedule whenever you want,” you breathed, intoxicated by this sudden, terrifying turn of character. Just as suddenly, Lord Kenobi released his grip and again became the familiar, charmingly malevolent man. He rose dripping from the tub and, as he dressed, ghostly fingers caressed your bud. Your head fell back against the edge of the tub, whimpering.
“I leave for the Outer Rim in ten days’ time. You will accompany me.” He paused. “And you'll not touch yourself in that time. I’ll know if you do.”
*
The transparisteel in the personal chambers on his flagship overlooked the nebula that had inspired that first gown. You were slightly bent at the waist, legs spread, palms resting against the window as the Sith Lord fucked you from behind. Obi-Wan gripped your hips, slowly pushing in and out of your sore, overused hole with long strokes. Gazing lovingly at your high-pitched whine and the reflection of your bouncing breasts in the window.
It had been three days since departing Coruscant. Or so it seemed. It was always difficult to detect the passing of time in the blackness of space.
Upon arrival to these chambers, Lord Kenobi had taken your clothes away and still hadn’t given them back. These must be earned, he’d sneered. Other than the luxe robe that had been given, he’d kept you bare and lusciously full of cum the entire time. You did not mind at all. Exhaustion permeated everything, though; it seemed that every time sleep fell, he wanted you again. Perhaps you had slept. Who knew. Time had become blurred by pleasure. A question was stirring, though: were you his prisoner? If so, did you care?
The first time Obi-Wan took you was not sweet, and it was not kind. The furious lust ignited by the defiance was boiling over and he needed to unleash it. Needed to show how far you’d driven him. Needed to put you in your place, even though he was no longer quite sure where that place was.
With a flick of his hand, you’d been thrown to the bed and immobilized, legs pushed open.
“Color?”
“Green.”
He slithered up to rest his weight on you, rock hard cock catching at your entrance.
“The moment you feel uncomfortable, tell me to stop,” he said. “I won’t hurt you, but I do not want to be gentle. Not this time,” he paused. Gentleness would come later. “Color.”
You nodded, quavering, “Green.”
“You are certain?” he asked. “You’ve no idea what’s been stirred in me.”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“Know that you brought this on yourself.” The smile was ravenous, predatory.
Lord Kenobi shoved in all at once, not allowing a moment to adjust to his thickness or length. You yelped at the feeling of being split open on his cock. He paused at the sound, waited for approval to continue, then began brutally thrusting. You relaxed and took what was given; but refusing to look away from the red-rimmed yellow eyes that hovered above. The refusal seemed to stoke anger and break his concentration. Suddenly, your limbs were free, but his hand clutched your throat. The Force efforts moved to your bundle of nerves, stroking gently in a delirious juxtaposition to the force with which he abused your hole. The invisible strokes became rough and impatient, drawing up a sharp orgasm that dug your head and toes into the mattress.
“Where?” he’d demanded, nearing his own release.
“Ins—inside! I’m sa—”
He came with a jagged groan like shattering glass. Erupting white hot along your walls until he collapsed atop you, sweating and panting.
“Is that all you’ve got?” you’d taunted.
“No,” he’d replied. “I plan to use this pretty pussy as I wish for the foreseeable future.”
Obi-Wan flipped you over, harshly yanked up your hips and started again.
Three days later, the sight of your reflection in the window overlooking the nebula was obscene. Head thrown back, swollen lips open, entire body shining with sweat. The feeling of him dragging along your walls was addictive, as was the stretch every time he entered you. Slowly and considerately or hard and rough, it didn’t matter. Every time was sheer, tantalizing bliss.
Obi-Wan slid a hand along to your bundle of nerves and began to lightly circle, eliciting a long, desperate moan. You would not beg. Begging made him mocking and selfish and was inappropriate for a woman of your station. Also, you didn’t like begging and he’d been clear that he wouldn’t make you do anything unwanted. He accepted that, having not learned your place, you’d take what was given or make demands.
“Make me come,” you rasped, voice savaged from so many ripping moans as he’d pleasured you over and over in these last days.
He delivered, slowly working your clit, building the pleasure into a long, rolling orgasm that left your throat raw from the prolonged cries until you nearly collapsed, caught in his arms before falling. He held you against him, pressing his cheek against yours.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
“I want to sleep,” you panted. “And I would like my clothes returned.”
“Alright. May I finish?”
“Oh . . . oh, Maker. Please. I want- ”
With that, you were spun around and lifted to be pressed back against the window, arms and legs curled around him as he sloppily rutted up, chasing his own release, burying his face into your neck as he found it. With a groan, he erupted hot white ropes of cum deep inside you.
Foreheads resting against one another’s, you continued grasping each other until he slipped away.
“Come, sweet star,” he purred.
He lifted and carried you to the bed, wrapping you in the plush robe. After granting a long, deep kiss, he rose.
“Caf or tea or wine?” he asked as always.
“Tea, please.”
Obi-Wan returned with a cup. After only three days – or so it seemed – you’d learned so much about him and his moods. For instance, right now, he was feeling domestic. You leaned forward, knowing that he’d want to settle against the headboard and draw you close to rest against him. The man was an enigma not only in the way he fucked, but also in his manner. Soft and caring one moment. Harsh and sharp the next. Yet, he was never cruel and took pains to ensure that you felt safe.
“Remind me,” he said, stroking your hair as your head lay back on his chest. “What was that terrible holodrama you like?”
But you could not answer as exhaustion melted through your being, pulling the darkness of sleep along with it. Obi-Wan kissed the top of your head and finally let you rest, trying to decide if he would let you go.
Summary: You're a new senator and hook up with Sith Lord Obi-Wan Kenobi at a series of galas. That's it. Just smut.
Warnings: shameless pwp, semi-public sex, fingering f! receiving, oral m! receiving, oral f! receiving, naked female/ clothed male, edging, very inappropriate use of the Force (consensual and public), light dom/sub dynamics, masterbation, Sith!Obi-Wan is a f*ckboy
A/N: After Blue Butterfly, I was still into Sith!Obi-Wan but wanted to write the decadent side. He is seriously the sluttiest slut, but he’s still the king of consent
“Poor. Manners.”
You had retreated from the party to a more private place to touch up lip paint and were rummaging through the little evening bag looking for it. Then that silky voice gliding from behind. It was him. The gorgeous man with the light auburn hair with a flop in the front that he occasionally, dramatically pushed away from his face. And a matching beard which he stroked when someone was talking to him. He was even more beautiful up close as he loomed in the mirror behind you sporting a finely made, close-fitting black jacket and a mischievous smile. And those shining, red haloed, yellow eyes. Hungry. Malicious.
Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Sith Lord.
“Ex- excuse me?” you stammered, unaccustomed to being noticed. This was by design and had been working out decently.
“You’ve been neglecting everyone all night in favor of ogling me,” he said. “I am very pretty, but that’s no cause to display poor manners.”
Truthfully, it had been extremely difficult not to stare at him when he’d shown up at recent events. Including this one, where he’d spent much of the evening ignoring the handsome young man who’d been hanging off his shoulder all night, desperately trying to get the Sith’s attention.
You tried to find any words with which to respond; anything that wouldn’t sound ridiculous to this decadent man in the mirror.
“And now, you’ve lost your voice,” he chuckled. His hand skated over yours and delved into the little evening bag, pulling out the lip paint and placing it in your hand. “I believe you were looking for this.”
You remained silent, overwhelmed at the feeling of his elegant hand on yours. Reportedly capable of delivering gentle touches and explosive pleasure just as easily as violence.
“I—I’m . . . instructed in the etiquette of many cultures . . .”
His hands snaked up both arms to rest on bare shoulders exposed by the simple skin-toned gown that you always wore to these things. The gown that was meant to keep you unnoticed in this pit of extravagantly dressed, pompous gundarks.
“And yet, you are being very rude to me.”
“I’m not—” you breathed.
“Perhaps,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, “you need further instruction.”
Someone called your name, reigniting duty and breaking his lush hold. Before you could slip away, he brought your chin up to meet his devilish gaze in the mirror.
“Until next time, sweet star.”
*
You weren’t anyone of particular importance. A princess from a forgettable planet near the furthest end of the Middle Rim which was ruled by a savvy queen – your mother - who understood that the Senate was a sham under the thumb of Emperor Palpatine. Who saw your shrewd instincts and had sent you to the University of Coruscant then ordered you to remain to assist her increasingly incompetent senator and stay in the shadows doing the real work. Recently, you’d persuaded him to retire and the queen to appoint you as replacement. No one in the senate had paid any mind and were only vaguely aware of your planet’s existence, anyway.
So, it was a surprise when a box containing a fashionable new gown arrived at the office. Tucked inside the box was a note handwritten on a slip of flimsi:
I expect better manners at the gala tonight, sweet star
The showy gown would certainly garner attention, which seemed counter-productive to the shadowy way in which you usually worked. However, the queen had ordered you to put the world on the galactic map, so to speak. So . . .
You walked into the gala confidently, wearing the dress gifted by a slinky rake. Sleeveless with a daringly deep v-neck and nigh scandalous slit in the skirt, all rendered in a diaphanous fabric. Blackest black at the top fading into smokey tendrils in several shades of red from knees to hem. Tiny shimmering crystals throughout glittered when the light was right. Apparently, it had a gravitational pull; heads turned, and eyes followed the woman who seemed to be draped in the stars and nebulae themselves.
You were chatting with the senator from Glee Anselm when he approached and took your hand. Brought it to his lips. The feeling of his beard brushing your knuckles sent a wave through your core and sharp desire to have that feeling everywhere. Luckily, it was far easier to maintain composure here when he hadn’t taken you by surprise. The danger emanating from him was titillating. However, you refused to be seen fawning over him; it would be unbecoming of your station. And you were in a risk-taking mood tonight.
“I apologize for interrupting,” Lord Kenobi said to the Nautolan. “But I have urgent business with this newly minted senator.”
Lord Kenobi offered his arm. You took it and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor, drawing you into the steps of the common waltz being played.
“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you, sweet star?” he asked, expertly executing the steps of this dance.
“Enlighten me.”
He spun you around and drew you close. “This woman deserves the stars.”
You snorted. Then laughed. Not loudly. His eyes burned. Anger at your impudence. Lust for your . . . everything. Still, a glimmer of curiosity shone golden and bright beneath those yellow irises.
“Lord Kenobi, my world may be provincial compared to Coruscant, but I wasn’t born yesterday,” you remarked through an amused smile. As a princess, even one of a backwater planet, you’d spent a lifetime being approached by suitors with pretty words.
His hand rose with the intent to brush your cheek as he’d done with so many others; a simple gesture that reliably opened a conquest’s legs for him. A gesture that was not going to work here. If he was going to bed you, he’d have to do something that hadn’t needed doing in a very long time.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Lord of the Sith, would have to try.
The two of you silently performed the next steps of the dance, closer than was necessary. Falling a bit out of step, dancing around one another a bit more slowly, maintaining reckless eye contact. Predators both, cautiously stalking one another.
“You do not fear me,” he said lowly.
“I’m told I should.” The evil he was capable of was written deep in those scorching eyes that seared into your soul. Everyone had heard the stories. And yet, you wanted him. The dance went on, but you and Lord Kenobi had stilled on the dance floor, gazing into each other’s eyes with wonder. A lock of hair had fallen out of place and hung over his brow. You reached up and tucked it back, letting your hand rest on his cheek. Then decided to take what you wanted.
You feigned a stumble and fell against him.
“Apologies, Lord Kenobi. I am . . . overcome,” you said. “Would you help me find someplace where I could catch my breath?”
Silently, he led you to a nearby alcove where you went in to kiss him only for him to pull back, letting your lips graze along his neck for half a moment. This unexpected brazenness you displayed indicated that you may be interested in some of his more . . . wicked ideas. But first, an order of business.
“If at any point you begin to feel uncomfortable,” he began, taking your hands. “Tell me to stop.”
“I can’t imagine that happening,” you grinned.
“I’m serious.” The earlier playfulness had drained from his face. “I don’t want you to regret this. Everything I do to you should be wanted.”
No one had ever been so forthright in ensuring your well-being before a tryst. This was unexpected from a man known for ruthlessness. Endearing.
“Of course,” you responded. “Green, yellow, red signals?”
A nod and a wolfish smile.
“Now, sweet star, you may kiss me.”
You lunged forward and devoured him. He met you with equally eager ferocity, roughly holding you to him, exploring your mouth, lightly gasping when you nipped his lip. He grasped the nape of your neck, arching you back, hungrily leaving sloppy kisses along your neck, down your cleavage, and back up. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled yourself up, crashing into his mouth again. You hand slid down below the waist and palmed his cock.
“You have to earn that, darling,” he said,
“We shouldn’t stay away for too long,” you purred. “The world putting on this gala. In their culture, it’s poor etiquette to retire before the host.”
Obi-Wan leaned against the wall, arranging you so that your back rested against his chest and his hands came to rest on your shoulders. This hiding place was concealed from the party floor, but only a few meters away. Anyone could happen by at any moment.
“Would this also be poor etiquette?” he asked, sliding his fingers beneath the straps of the dress, and dropping it to the waist, gliding his hands back up to tease your exposed nipples. You couldn’t answer beyond a whimper, quickly lost in the touch of those storied hands. Words no longer existed. Had never existed.
“Lost your voice again, hmm? I wonder where we might find it.” Obi-Wan grasped the skirt at the slit, pulling it open to slide a hand between your legs. Fingers hovered just above the bud, eliciting a soft whine. “Perhaps here. Color?”
“Gr—green.”
He began running fingers along your clit, steadily maintaining a light pressure and slow pace that made you quiver and pant. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry.
“Someone might—ahh . . .” you whined.
“I assure you,” he said, “anyone who wanders near will find themselves with a sudden need to be somewhere else.”
You relaxed and leaned back, letting him work your bundle of nerves, writhing along his fingers. Electric pleasure radiating through your thighs and core, gathering into a storm. It took every shred of effort not to scream when the orgasm thundered through you, instead biting your lip until it nearly bled. He worked you through it, softly kissing along your ear as the swirling pleasure subsided. When it had calmed, he brought the bodice up to cover you.
“Did I earn it?” you panted.
“Somewhat,” he chuckled. “You can have my cock for five minutes. Do as you like.”
You’d never fallen to the floor so fast in your life. He leered down, enjoying the picture of you frantically undoing his pants and freezing, eyes wide at what you’d found.
“Feel free to spend your limited time admiring it if that’s what you wish. Four minutes.”
You plunged forward to take him all at once into your throat, which was a mistake. He laughed as you gagged and choked. It was too much- you had to pull off.
“Calm down, princess. You may have an extra minute for your trouble. I’m feeling generous.”
Slowly this time, you leaned forward and lightly flicked the tip of your tongue along the bead of precum then took him back into your mouth. Not far. Just past the head. Slowly running your tongue in circles. Pulling away again to drag that velvet hardness along your lips. You glanced up to find him staring down, eyes glues to where his cock met your lips. You smirked as an idea took shape.
He’d given you five minutes. That didn’t mean you had to make him come during that time.
You languidly stroked his length while continuing ministrations with your mouth. Glancing back up, you were greeted by the image of the Sith Lord’s head thrown back against the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavily. However . . .
You pulled off his cock with a pop.
“It appears my time is up, Lord Kenobi.”
“What—?”
You stood up and smoothed your dress, then reached out to tuck his hair away from his brow again.
“That was fun, but we really must be getting back,” far you said. “Manners and all.”
Obi-Wan remained against the wall reeling, watching you sashay away in the gown that he’d had made for you. He seethed at the defiance but was also intrigued. No one ever walked away from him. Certainly not while his cock was still harder than durasteel. This little game was from over.
*
Another gala on the agenda. Another gown arriving in a box. Another note on flimsy, this one more direct than the first:
You will beg for my cock before this night is through
The gown was more beautiful than the last. Strapless, made with a filmy, smokey gray fabric shot through with cerulean and gold, giving the effect of a thunderstorm over an ocean. The man had impeccable taste.
Later, you breezed into the gala, turning heads just as last time. Although you tried to look casually uncaring, you couldn’t help but scan the ballroom. And couldn’t help but narrow your eyes when Lord Kenobi came into view. The same handsome young man from before was draped against him and Kenobi was paying attention this time. He turned to you, winked, and went back to tracing the companion’s jawline with his fingers.
You abruptly turned and went in search of the senator from Corellia. After all, this was technically a business event. And yet, you kept cutting your eyes over at Kenobi and the enamored young man.
“You’re very pretty when you’re jealous, sweet star.” Again, that silken voice slinked up from behind a bit later.
“Green.” You were surprised by the edge in your voice.
“I haven’t proposed anything yet,” he replied. He ran a finger along your exposed back.
“I’m curious to see what you come up with,” you said cheekily.
An evil smile crept along Obi-Wan’s face beneath the fire dancing in his eyes. This was going to be tremendous fun.
“As you wish,” he whispered, lips and beard brushing your ear.
You were on the dancefloor in a waltz with the Corellian senator when it started. The slightest tickle between your legs. A few seconds later, the feeling of fingers ghosting your nipples. You inhaled sharply as these invisible fingers began stroking your bud. Obi-Wan.
“Are you alright, senator?”
“Yes. Thank you.” You managed to gather some composure and continue the dance despite this distraction.
“I hear your world is on the rise,” they said. “Corellia is always interested in new allies—"
You stumbled at the distinct feeling of fingers pushing into your hole and beginning to pump in and out, another flicking your clit.
“Are you certain you’re alright?”
“Yes,” you said urgently. “A simple misstep.”
The senator continued the diatribe about friendship while you put every effort into appearing as if you weren’t getting Force-fucked in front of everyone. It was deliciously terrifying and a true test of poise. But, Obi-Wan was increasing pressure and pace and you weren’t sure the coming orgasm could be contained. Everything burned, fighting to be released. This could be very embarrassing.
Just before you overflowed, the invisible hand pulled away. The waltz ended. You and the senator held the ending position - your hand on their shoulder, their hand at your waist – as you trembled.
“The prospect of an alliance between our worlds is promising,” they said. “A meeting shall be arranged.”
“Of course,” you replied, holding in a yelp as Obi-Wan rammed up one more time. “I look forward to it.”
Your head whipped around to find Kenobi looking directly at you, laughing while his companion nuzzled his neck. No. This Sith Lord was not going to get the upper hand in this game. You drew up all your training and walked regally across the ballroom, catching up to the senator as they were about to address the Sith Lord.
“Senator,” you reached out to touch their arm and stepped far closer than was necessary. “I wondered if a potential . . . friendship . . .might be better discussed over dinner? Just us?”
They smiled. “You did seem passionate about an alliance. I will arrange this dinner.” They took up your hand and sweetly kissed it. “You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”
“I cannot wait.”
You retreated, staring hard at Lord Kenobi as you walked past, relishing his irritation. He peeled the young man off and followed as you led the way down a deep corridor far from the party to a secluded room with a door that locked.
Once inside, Kenobi grasped your throat and pushed you across the room, crowding you at the edge of the table.
“You. Bother. Me,” he hissed.
“Do I now?” You ran your hands up his torso and began to undo his shirt, pausing with each fastener to run fingers along the pale reddish hair that sprayed across his chest and trailed down his belly, disappearing beneath his pants. “You don’t seem bothered by this.”
“Minx.” His grip loosened.
You leaned forward to place a kiss just below his clavicle. Then continued soft kisses along his chest, lazily finding his nipple, brushing your lips against it, lightly flicking your tongue. He was still as a statue. Taking a risk, you gave a light bite, relishing his sharp inhale.
“Do that again.”
You obeyed and doubled down, pinching the other simultaneously. When his breathing became ragged, it seemed like the perfect time to pull away. Snaking your arms around his neck, kissing him. Not savagely like before; slow and deep. He reciprocated, gently pulling you against him, hands exploring your back and ass.
“It’s too soon for me to beg for your cock,” you breathed against his ear. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“But you will,” he said, guiding your palm over his pants, which were strained with his hardness.
Obi-Wan relocated to an opulent armchair and settled back to cross his legs, ankle resting on the opposite knee. Stars, he looked like a king on his throne, and you very badly wanted to kneel between those thighs. You waited until he waved you over to stand before him.
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.
You unzipped the gown and stepped out of it; suddenly very self-conscious as molten yellow eyes skimmed over your nakedness. He rose and crossed the distance to run his thumb along your lips, pushing between them.
“There’s no need to be bashful, sweet star. Color?”
“Green,” you breathed.
He leaned forward in a brief, delicious kiss before retreating to the armchair and settling back into that same position.
“Now, princess,” he said richly, “show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.”
Your hand went to your apex, fingers gathering up the pooling slick and running across your nub. The shudder that fell from your throat was surprisingly fierce. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly circled the tip of your middle finger around your clit. Force fingers slithered into your fluttering hole again and curled. Your head fell back, mouth open, breaths becoming shorter and faster.
“Kneel,” he ordered.
You immediately dropped to the floor and settled both hands in your lap.
In an instant, Obi-Wan was looming over you, fingers tipping your chin up to look upon him.
“I did not tell you to stop,” he said. Unthinking, your hand went back between your legs and got to work. He pushed his fingers into your mouth. “Open.”
You obeyed. Nothing happened.
“Oh, princess, you look so pretty waiting to take me into your mouth,” he leered. “Do you want it?”
“Y—yes.”
“Then use those fine manners and ask politely.”
“Master Kenobi,” you asked, sounding far more desperate than you wanted to be. Not really caring. “May I please have your cock?”
He dragged the head along your mouth, smearing precum, then pushed in until your lips were flush with rosy gold curls and he was down your throat. He bent down to grasp the nape of your neck, careful not to muss your hair, holding you in place while he pistoned into your mouth. As per his order, you continued stroking your clit, increasing pace and pressure to match his growing impatience to release.
“Come with me,” he demanded.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you brought yourself there, muffled moans mingling with his as he came hot and white down your throat. He held for a moment, softening in your mouth, before pulling away.
“Come, sweet star,” he said. “You deserve a reward.”
You let him help you up from the floor and guide you to the armchair. The plushness of the upholstery against your bare skin was obscene in its decadence. Lord Kenobi knelt, pushing your legs apart, and brought his lips to barely brush your already rebuilding heat.
“I’ll get another one out of you,” he whispered.
A featherlight kiss. A flick of the tongue. Then he descended, taking it all into his mouth, lips and tongue working, drinking you in. You glanced down to see a man lost in his task, eyes closed amid a desperately thirsty face. And the feeling. Gentle, warm heat flowed through you. Comforting, like being near a fireplace on a cold night. He seemed to be in no rush to make you climax, so you leaned back and let him enjoy himself.
Obi-Wan kept you in that elated state in which you weren’t quite approaching orgasm, but everything still felt like glowing joy. Two fingers pushed into your hole, pulling a gasp from your throat, and began pumping in and out as he concentrated his efforts, tongue swirling your bundle in little circles. He added a third finger and curled, sending you over.
You grasped the arms of the chair and bucked, crying out ragged and sharp as the release tore through. Lord Kenobi gripped your legs, holding your heat to his face, working you through it until your body relaxed, then crawled up to kiss you.
“I believe we are both expected . . . elsewhere,” he said. “Until next time, sweet star.”
Summary: sith!Obi-Wan au, in which Sas was able to fly Padme to safety and deliver her children but at the cost of losing the man she loved. Five years have gone by since the fall of Republic, since the fall of the Jedi Order, since Sas said goodbye to the man she loves. Since then Emperor Palpatine has brought in new enforcers; Lord Vader his right hand, and Grand Admiral Abusivus a man Sas refuses to admit bares any resemblance to Obi-Wan Kenobi even when he stands right in front of her.
Pairings: Sith!Obi-Wan X OC (Sas Vom)
Warnings: Anxiety attack? nervous vomits
Read on AO3
A/N: This was inspired by art work by @p1nkmic linked here I have some plans to turn this one into a full fledged fic if anyone would be interested in that. But incase I don't get there here is the first chapter just written as a one shot. As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Hope you enjoy!
Sas took a deep inhale.
Slow exhale.
She let her breathing gradually return to its normal cadence. There was nothing to worry about. Green eyes as vibrant as her natural skin stared back at Sas in the mirror. Black slicked back hair contrasted against the unnaturally pale skin she hid behind. She could blame it on the bright lights of the refresher she stood in, the light’s glare threatened to make her seem whiter than the snow she once trekked through on Pantora's moons. For a moment she wondered if she focused hard enough, if she could make herself translucent. She had never tried before, but if there was any moment to try, now seemed like the best time to do so. It wouldn’t help, even if she could. The face of Rola Brisa would have to be enough for the time being. The Director for Special Operations, her new supervisor, would likely sense her the moment she walked in the door. There was no way around that.
Taking another deep breath, Sas gripped the sink with all the strength she had. This was where she was supposed to be. Ultimately, Sas knew that she would end up in this position sooner or later, she had just hoped it was going to be later. Maybe she had even hoped that the Empire would have discovered her by now, anything to avoid facing him.
She released her breath. This was part of the plan. Jankari, Senator Organa and the others were counting her and information she could gather about the Empire’s military movements, to figure out how much information they truly knew about rebellion. She knew this was coming. It was inevitable, if Sas was doing her job well. That didn’t make her apprehension any easier. Another gag erupted from her throat and Sas threw herself to the floor in front of the toilet.
A few more moments passed as Sas tried to keep down whatever was left in her stomach. She wanted to stay there on the ground, head on her arms, and just wither away. She knew she couldn’t of course, someone would eventually find her body and that was a different mess she didn’t like to imagine. She stood up with a groan, her ghastly white uniform was now wrinkled and disorderly. Truthfully Sas didn’t care, but Rola Brisa, an ambitious Imperial officer absolutely cared, so Sas had to care.
She checked her watch. There was still time for her to change into an extra uniform. A quick glance in the mirror and Rola gave a sigh of disappointment. Not only was her uniform unpresentable, but her hair had fallen out from its place as well. She spent a few extra minutes washing her mouth and face, attempting to make sure that there was no trace of Sas Vom brewing under the surface. Thankfully a little foundation went a long way, even if it would leave her at home trying to scrub it off for longer than she cared for. Today though she would rather be safe than sorry.
It didn’t take her long to change and touch up her makeup, and yet once again her stomach lurched at the thought of the meeting today. She still had a few minutes and so sat at her desk and closed her eyes. She did her best to focus on the firm cool surface of her desk under her fingertips and let that douse the burning under her skin. Sas stayed shifted so often these days, the pain was constantly with her. She wished she could say she had grown used to it, and in some ways she had grown numb to it, yet it burned just under the surface the same way her ears constantly rang despite the silence.
The beeping on Sas’ commlink alerted her that it was time to go. Again bile boiled in her stomach and it took every ounce of self control she had to not run into the refresher. There was nothing else to be done. She grabbed her data pad and walked out of her office.
Every step Sas took to the conference room, felt like another step into her own demise. She could leave, she knew she could, but leaving meant risking so much more. So much of her own life had been woven into Rola Brisa’s, to have her vanish now would draw just as much attention to herself. The last time Sas had felt so trapped, she had locked herself and several in the Jedi Temple war room.
Brisa quickly pushed the thought away, took a deep breath and forced herself to ignore the way her boots echoed down the hallway. It didn’t matter if she could tell that another set of boots joined hers, she had one destination in mind, and she needed to focus on keeping her composure. One slip up and it would be Sas Vom sitting in the meeting and being dragged off to a torture chamber.
“Have you read the reports?” a male’s voice asked, as he fell into stride with her.
Brisa kept her eyes focused on the hall in front of her. “Of course I did Captain. You’d be a fool to not read the reports before this briefing.” Brisa didn’t need to pretend to sound cross with the man at her side. Captain Gaiblel Dirgo had been one of the more bothersome constants at her side since she began her climb in Imperial rank. She had the unfortunate pleasure of working with him on several projects, which only meant that she truly never had a moment to turn the Captain off. If anyone in Imperial Naval Intelligence could claim to know Brisa well, it was him. His only quality that she appreciated, however, was that he had the sense enough to know that they weren’t friends.
“So I’m guessing you saw the comparison between former Republic strategies. Rumor has it these pirates have a Jedi leading them,” he said. She didn’t need to look at him to see the grin spread across his face at the thought of such a challenge.
“I read the breakdown. I think you’re giving them too much credit,” She said tiredly. Truthfully Sas didn’t have to read the report to know what was going on. She had been the one to coordinate those rebel attacks. Sure, Quinlan was occasionally leading the charge and stealing Imperial Cargo ships on her behalf, but it was her plan and she had sent him and her sister the information necessary for them to lead the raids. This was their sign that it was time to back off for a short time. They were too close. She just hoped that she would live long enough to relay the message to them.
“Too much credit, really?” Dirgo said incredulously. “I think you underestimate them.”
“Perhaps. But I don’t think you’re seeing the big picture Dirgo. What they’re doing and the way they’re doing it is unsustainable. It won’t be long-” She stopped when she came to the briefing room door. There was more truth to her words than she cared to admit, but it was how she made her dismissal sound genuine. “They’ve had five years to get organized and yet they haven’t expanded their territory, nor made any considerable threat to our larger cargo ships.”
“But we haven’t caught them within that time either.”
“We haven’t been working on their case.”
She walked through the automatic door, shoulders back, head held high. He had to project the confidence she did not feel. It didn’t matter if she and Dirgo were the first two that arrived for the briefing. The room itself was circular, the holo in the middle surrounded by data desk that could easily connect to their pads or the holo projector. She picked a seat that would have her back facing the door. She didn’t want to have to see him walk in the room.
No.
Sas couldn’t see him walk into the room. She knew the moment she laid eyes on him again her world would come crashing down around her. Seeing him on the holonet was one thing. She could lie to herself. She could tell herself that it was a shadow holo, someone who looked like him, someone who even underwent a transformation to physically be him, anything other than the truth. But the moment she would see him walk in, she knew she would no longer be able to deny it.
Staring down at her data pad, Brisa hadn’t even noticed more officers had begun to file into the room. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The Admirals and Generals were strict enough, but this was Grand Admiral Abusivus, and everyone who had made it this far in Imperial intelligence knew the man had a very low tolerance for the ill prepared.
While Sas personally thought it was a bit ironic for him to gain such a reputation, she would never vocalize or question it. If she did, she would have to acknowledge the reality of who she was talking about. However, she knew she was going to have to face that reality much sooner than she would have liked.
Sas hadn’t noticed the quiet murmuring of the officer’s around her until they fell completely silent. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, a wave of cold and deep aching washed over her, constricting her throat and threatening to suffocate her. She had exactly one second to decide how to react. Did she stand and turn around to face him at attention, like the rest of the officers? She could turn and stare, pretend to be curious and enthralled with the idea of working with such an individual, and pray she didn’t break her composure when she saw him. Or she could keep her back to him, keep her head down, pretend to be caught up in reading the report he sent out before he arrived. She ran the risk of standing out from the other officers, but at least she could brace herself, take a deep breath, and pretend to be unphased when she looked at him.
Truthfully, she knew it wouldn’t matter what she decided, she could feel his eyes already fixated on her the moment the door slid open and closed. Whether she wanted to draw attention or not, she had it, both his and the attention of the fourth of the room that followed his line of sight. It didn’t matter that she had snapped to her feet just as the person next to her did. She was late. She would wait for the firm tap of his boots to pass her before relaxing her stance. They both knew she was only attempting to look diligent, but Grand Admiral Abusivus knew her display wasn’t for him anyway. Her lungs burned as she held her breath waiting for him to pass.
He never did.
Instead his footsteps stopped a few feet short of her, not quite behind her, just enough that she would have to turn her body to see him.
She clenched her jaw.
Of course he would stop there behind her. He was going to make her turn around. And Sas would turn around, if she had any sense about keeping her cover. She braced herself, let out her breath slowly and ever so slightly her her body. He would already know what she was feeling, but that didn’t mean she needed to broadcast it to the other officers in the room.
“At least I know one of you took my message seriously,” that familiar Coruscanti accent cut through the silence.
Brisa hadn’t turned around yet, and now the whole commanding staff had its attention on her. She raised a brow at the Grand Admiral.
“I’m sure you’ll find all of your command staff take your messages seriously, Sir” she answered evenly as she turned to face him. She probably should have kept her mouth shut.
Some habits died harder than others it would seem.
If he took offense to her answer, his face didn’t show it. That might have been worse if Sas were being honest with herself. She still couldn’t make herself see him. She looked at him, as the situation demanded she look at him, but she didn’t see him. She might catch a glimpse of the amber in his face, but her attention was on the wall just past his head. She of course could make out the rack of ribbons on his chest, but she refused to really take in and process the man standing in front of her. At least not while he was right in front of her. Close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he chose to.
Though Sas could keep Brisa’s face calm and collected, it didn’t change that her heart pounded faster and faster as the silence stretched on.
“Perhaps if the rest of my staff is as proficient as you claim, these insurgents will be put down before the next lunar cycle,” Grand Admiral Abusivus replied.
Somehow that felt worse than a reprimand. Sas could handle a reprimand, but his words felt like a challenge. A reprimand would make the other officers avoid her, they could view her as impulsive, foolish and ill prepared. While Captain Brisa would likely bristle under the weight of such judgments, Sas could lean into it, no one would want to associate with her because of the reprimand. This was almost an invitation for investigation. He just issued a challenge to the others to determine if she was simply foolish in her outspokenness, or if she truly was confident in the abilities of the people in the room.
“Yes, Sir.” That was the only answer she could think to give. She didn’t dare to meet his gaze. He finally stepped away from her to walk around the edge of the room, making just about every officer he passed turn to face him. In another life, she might have made some kind of quip, or even complimented him, but the reality was that their exchange was hollow and devoid of the warmth they used to share.
As he stepped further away, his back toward her as he circled the room, Sas took the chance to finally study him. Calling the Grand Admiral colder than she first remembered was an understatement. She still felt that initial chill deep under her skin, as if he could somehow make even her burning nerve endings fizzle out. The way he carried himself was different though, still straight and proud, but perhaps it was the memory of his soft brown robes and warmth that used to linger in them that made his stark white uniform, sharp creases along his shoulders, that made him seem more distant than simply reserved.
The Grand Admiral had started speaking. Something about the nature of the insurgents' plot. The term pirates was evidently outdated now–or he couldn’t stand the thought of the one tracking him from across the room. One of his leather clad hands reached up to stroke his auburn beard, whatever idea he told them to consider had been lost on her. Too easily was her mind distracted by her memories of playing with the first few silver hairs that had slowly bled into his hair, assuring him that he wore them well. Her chest ached at the memory, but still she kept Brisa’s face neutral but attentive, even as the Grand Admiral made direct eye contact with her this time.
Brisa couldn’t look away. No matter how badly she wanted to, she couldn’t. It didn’t matter how deeply his amber eyes cut through her, how much it hurt to see those eyes in his face, Sas could not look away. She had done that to him. She abandoned him on Mustafar.
“Their most recent targets have been Imperial supply ships along the borders between the Mid Rim and Outer Rim, though they’re not attacking at jump points, instead they strike just before the ships leave the port,” Abusivus continued, and pulled her out of that spiral. “Similar reports of attacks have started coming from more Outer Rim sectors.” As he spoke the holo map lit up in the center of the room though no one was there to operate it. Sas resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His little trick to operate the map with the force might have impressed the others, but it was just another reminder that she could not fully trust her own mind while he was around.
She did her best to focus on the map, even though she had seen it hundreds of times. Sas told herself this meeting felt repetitive because this was the third time she’d heard a similar report. Once while she, Padmé, and Crix discussed a pirating strategy that could be done with minimal crew, and what regions would likely be the best to start in. Then of course she had to read the briefing The Grand Admiral sent them to see what the Empire knew about their movements, and of course now it was being spoon fed to her again.
A glint of light caught Sas’ eye as the Abusivus circled made his way along the side of the circle farthest from her. She was so lost in her memories that she missed the cane in his other hand. Her brows twitched together for a fraction of a second as she tried to figure out what he was leaning on as he walked. No, leaning was the wrong word. Though he moved the sleek black cane as if he needed it to walk, he stood too straight, too tall to actually be leaning on it. Her eyes drifted to his waist, expecting to see his lightsaber hanging off his belt, but even that was missing. Part of her wondered if it was stored in his cane. She pushed the thought away, finding the thought of him washed in the glowing red light of the new weapon was too much for her to think about. She looked back down to her data pad.
"These insurgents are far more organized than we've given them credit for in the past. That being said, there is also reason to believe that they have a contact within Imperial intelligence." Abusivus stopped behind a gray haired man Sas realized was Admiral Yularen. He looked at several officers in the room, but most noticeably avoided looking directly at Brisa. "You're duty is then, not to simply stop the insurgents, but to snuff out their contact. I trust you’ll utilize your resources to their full capacity and come to me when you find anything of interest."
Brisa looked down to make a note in her data pad, but truthfully she wasn’t sure how to feel about the comment. It didn’t matter if anyone else moved, at least she told herself that. Brisa could move to make notes, she had already shown herself to be a little odd. She knew the Empire was looking for her. That was a given. From the time she had enlisted she knew the Empire wasn’t just looking for spies, the Empire was specifically looking for Sas Vom. She was supposed to die in the temple. She would have died on Utapau had she gone. However, hearing the encouragement to hunt her down coming from him, cut deeper than she would have thought possible. Some invisible band snaked its way around her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs, even as she forced herself to stand up straight again.
Heart pounding in her ears, Sas hadn’t heard the word that they were dismissed, that they had all received their specific assignments through their data pads. This was too much for her. She thought she could continue the mission when it got to this point, but this was too much. She turned to pick up her data pad, and had to steady herself with her other hand as the room spun out from under her feet. Brisa needed to escape to her office, shut down and push past anyone who would try to talk to her. She needed to get home, message Padmé, escape tonight.
“Captain Brisa,” His voice cut through her as Sas tried to turn to leave.
It took everything in power to keep her accent, keep Brisa’s face in place as a flurry of thoughts and feelings clouded her vision. “Yes, Sir-”
“Captain, I had expected you to wait. I imagine you have questions about your assignment.”
Brisa’s composure slipped to genuine distress for the briefest moment as she checked her data pad. At the top was a notification of her assignment details. The subject line was clear: Personnel Director for Grand Admiral Abusivus.
Sas breathed in sharply as he slowly reached for her arm at her side, gently taking her elbow, and sliding his hand down until her hand was in his. His breath ghosted across her skin, sending a shiver right through her core, followed by the familiar brush of his beard and the warmth of his lips. It should be easy for Captain Brisa to let it go, to remain aloof and unfeeling. Under normal circumstances she would be. A few had tried to get under her skin, but she kept them at bay. Sas shouldn’t have looked down. When she did, she met the amber eyes of the fallen Jedi, the man she used to love. The man she still loved.
He stared right through her. To some it could have been an intimidation tactic, a scheme to see how well his new Captain would work under pressure or perhaps to make sure she would not buckle under flattery. Had the gesture been done to any other woman other than herself, Sas might have believed that was all it was. He wasn’t beyond using some dramatics to figure people out before the fall, she hated to admit she was glad to see at least that hadn’t changed. His gaze and his lips lingered for two heart beats too long. The message was loud and clear.
Obi-Wan lays his hand on the mirrored glass and closes his eyes, let’s his awareness spread like a gentle breeze, unobtrusive, imperceptible through the cracks of surprisingly solid mental shields.
Below the observation deck, the Marshal Commander of the Third Systems Army is being divested of his armor and weapons, shackles heavy on his wrists. He doesn’t struggle, only a mulish stubborn twist to his jaw showing his displeasure at the situation.
A skim bares so much already. Steadfast, integer, loyal to a fault when it’s deserved. Just as expected. He shines like a sun, it makes Obi-Wan want to turn his head towards his light, bask in it, devour it. So much strength. Protective with a heart big enough to hold every single one of the clones close, dead or alive.
Obi-Wan opens his eyes, steps back from the observation window. “I need a week.”
Next to him, Dooku hums. “Very well. That can be arranged.”
“They think he’s on Serenno?”
“Yes. I left enough clues and Qui-Gon will look there first anyway when he realizes I’m behind the kidnapping.”
Obi-Wan can feel his jaw flex at Jinn’s name. He rolls his shoulders. “Alright. Give me an hour,” and turns to go. Messing up his hair he points at the guards, “you two, with me.” He throws a sly grin over his shoulder at Dooku. “See you at dinner, Pops.”
———
Being kidnapped, Cody decides as he’s thrown into a cell, karking sucks every time. The air in his lungs breaks for freedom when he roughly lands on the stone floor. He lays there for a moment, shoulder throbbing, getting his breath back enough to see through the ringing in his head.
Rolling onto his back is a pain but at least it grants him a view of the situation. Old fashioned and connected barred cells lined up on both sides of the corridor, locks that need keys - Cody has only seen those in history holos.
And a cell neighbor, it turns out, when his eyes have adjusted enough in the dark to check the cells in vicinity.
Cody can’t make out much at first besides pale dirty hands gripping the length of chain between shackles much like the ones Cody is wearing. Dirty ginger hair, torn, bloody tunic and pants over bruised skin. Very bright storm blue eyes, as he suddenly finds out, even if one of them is almost swollen shut.
At the eye contact the redhead violently flinches back, gasping when their head connects with the stone wall.
Cody winces. “Hey, hey,” he soothes, gentling his voice, “it’s alright. It’s okay.”
The figure slumps with an awful sounding heave, shackles clanging together.
Cody ignores everything to do with his bruised ribs and slowly raises his hands. Unarmed, see? Same cuffs as you, same boat. The redhead uncurls just a tiny bit, one knee shaking, and Cody’s chest gives a little twang. “I’m Cody,” he offers, keeping his tone gentle. He’d rather establish trust with the civilian now than rescue a struggling and confused victim later. People are unpredictable when it comes to rescue efforts, Cody has learned.
The silence stretches. He’s almost given up getting an answer for the moment, when a swallow clicks through the redhead’s throat. “I’m—,” hesitant, quiet voice with a surprising core world accent, “I’m Ben.”
Hi there! I loved your darkside kenobi series on 03 any chance your continuing it to a part three? :D
Hello there!!! YES!!!! I can't wait to get started on it. I have purchased a few Sith books to read so I can get in the right headspace, because Part 3 is going to be quite an adventure. I have most of it all planned out and should start writing sometime in the next few months. Thanks so much for asking!!! I'm so pleased that you like the series ❤️
I went for a long walk today and came up with the ending for The Dark Side of Obi-Wan Kenobi Part 3. I am so excited to finally start writing this story. And the stuff that came to me today, I have to confess it blew 👏 my 👏 mind👏 I can’t wait to share it with you!
If you want to read my Dark Side series, here are some links 😊
