@sugarrrvenomm - Tumblr Blog

Jan 10

i could sparkle up your eye / obi-wan kenobi x reader

18+ / 2k / cunnilingus & fingering

"Can I ask you something?"

Anakin's tone makes you look up from the holos you're studying. His face is clouded, as if he was deep in thought until now.

"Sure," you say, nonchalant.

"Is there something going on between you and my Master?"

You almost drop your pencil.

"What?"

Anakin shifts where he's sitting, and another Padawan looks over at you with a curious expression.

"I mean, did you have a—disagreement or a fight? He talked about you the other day and then he kind of seemed annoyed. I don't know how to describe it."

You blink, trying to think, and to do so quickly. Really, you should have known that your stupid crush would lead to something like this. What were you thinking, asking Master Kenobi if he wanted to go to a diner with you one day?

"A fight? No, I just, um. I think I asked him a stupid question after class one day, and maybe he remembered and, you know." You let the sentence hang in the air, but Anakin doesn't press you.

"Good," he simply says, and with that, the conversation is over for him.

You duck your head, feeling yourself blush violently.

***

Later, on your way to your rooms, you don't watch where you're going for one moment, but that one moment is enough.

"Why the hurry?"

"Master Kenobi," you say respectfully, hoping against hope that he doesn't notice the slight tremble in your voice. He sounds amused, though. You look up; the first mistake of the afternoon.

He's not that much taller than you, but somehow always seems to find a way to make you feel small underneath his gaze.

"About your question from the other day," he says, and you feel your ears burn. Did he overhear your conversation with Anakin? But how could he have? "I think I finally found the right text to help you. Would you mind taking a look at it?"

"Right now?"

"Right now. If it's not inconvenient for you, of course."

You shake your head, but even that small gesture requires more strength than usually. Remembering your shyness as you asked him out (because now you can admit that that was what you did: there was nothing casual about it), you wonder what he has in mind right now. He can't punish you, at least you don't think so. You're not his Padawan; but oh how you would like to be. Then he could take you out to eat whenever he or you wanted. You'd always get the best results, score highest amongst your peers. At the same time, you'd remain cool, as if this was nothing to you. As if you wouldn't start to glow the moment he laid his eyes on you, fixed you with an approving look that says, Look at my Padawan. I'm so, so proud of her.

"It's not," you say, and this time, your voice is steadier. You watch as his face changes from slight disbelief to surprise, and then a smile takes over: all teeth.

***

The door closes behind you with what sounds like finality, but you don't really pay attention. He motions for you to sit down at a little table, but you go straight for one of the settees, which are artfully arranged in one corner of his rooms. You breathe in deeply but try to make it look inconspicuous—but deep down, you want him to see. Want Master Kenobi to notice what his scent does to you, how it forces you to stop your eyes from rolling back in your head and your back from arching ever so slightly.

If the look he gives you is anything to go by, he notices. He comes to sit next to you, a holopad in one hand, and you swallow as he fingers it for longer than is strictly necessary, as if he can't find the right button to turn it on.

"There we go," he murmurs as the image springs to life: it's a series of what appear to be lecture notes on the fauna of some Outer Rim planet, you don't catch the name, but then again, you wouldn't have caught it if he had screamed it at you, or painted it in blinking letters on the outside of the Temple.

He's toying with you, and you let it happen.

"You'd better pay attention. This might be important for your next lesson," he says.

"And what lesson would that be?"

"You asked about food. This is about food."

You hate him, you think. You'd love nothing more than to bite into his hand for him to drop the holopad; that would show him. It would show him a lot of things.

Suddenly, he switches the thing off puts it down on the couch next to him, and it's as if a curtain of static has descended on the room. You swallow, watch him track the movement of your throat before he catches your eye again.

"Wasn't there something else you wanted to ask?" he says, his head cocked. His tone is casual, but you can feel his full attention on you like a ray of light.

"One or two things." You're surprised at your own boldness as you turn to face him more openly. He mirrors you not a second later, his arm draped over the back of the settee, and you imagine for one moment that you can feel the warmth of his hand even with five inches and your robes between you.

"Ask away," he says.

You open your mouth, but you must have waited too long, because before you can say anything, he leans in a little, and your breath catches; you lift your head without thinking, his lips so, so, so close to yours the only thing you can focus on.

"I thought so," he murmurs, and then he's kissing you softly, just the barest hint of pressure, but it's enough. You sigh into his mouth, tilt your head and open up. He swallows your gasp as soon as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you let your body take over, giving your mind a break.

The hand beside your shoulder sneaks up to cup the side of your neck, then your jaw, his broad palm holding you in place while he kisses you deeper, and your own fingers grasp his tunic and just hold on.

He draws away first, but only to nose at your cheek, his beard scraping along your skin making you shiver and tighten your grip.

"You're a fast learner," he whispers in your ear; his hot breath almost manages to distract you from his other hand, which is sneaking up your thigh and comes to rest on your hip. It's big enough that he could probably reach out and run his thumb over your clit, you think, trying to concentrate through the haze that has fallen on you.

"Would you like that?" he asks, and only then do you realize that your shields are practically all the way down.

"Yes," you say without thinking, "yes, yes, yes," and you can feel him smile against you.

"My sweet girl," he coos, and then he does exactly what you want him to, and more: dragging not one, but two of his fingers down between your legs, which you allow to fall open to give him more space, and you need him to feel how wet you are, for him to know just how much you want him.

"Please," you beg before trying to kiss him again, but he clicks his tongue and presses his forehead to yours instead. You both look down at his fingers caressing you, and you moan when he shifts and cups your pussy, your clit now snugly fitted against the heel of his hand. You grind against him and have to swallow a cry.

"Patience, dear one. I'm not going anywhere." His voice has dropped what feels like an octave. "Not when you're so needy for me to play with your little pussy."

"Master," you groan, before snapping your head up with such force that he laughs.

"Oh?" he asks, trying to catch your eye, but you feel your face heat up with embarrassment and try to look anywhere but at him. His hand stays between your thighs, just holding you. "Say that again."

You swallow, the sound too loud in your own ears, but after a moment you obey. "Master, please," you say, voice close to breaking.

"Please what?" He drags one of his fingers forward and back over your slit, and you don't know how but you get even wetter just from this simple gesture.

"Please play with my pussy, Master Kenobi," you manage before he releases you and lifts your hips up, and you just have enough presence of mind to help him drag your trousers and underwear down; he doesn't even look, you notice with a hint of disappointment. But that evaporates as soon as he drops to his knees in front of the couch, parts your thighs and kisses along the inside of one while he massages small circles into the muscles of the other.

"You deserve it, because you asked so nicely. And because your pussy looks so pretty like this," he says, and when he finally touches you, you feel as if you could float out of your body and into the Force, because this is like nothing you have ever experienced before. His fingers are deft with the way they part your folds, careful yet insistent at the same time. You clap one hand over your mouth when he grazes your clit, the pad of his thumb light as a feather. "All wet and empty. Let's rectify that, shall we?"

And he actually looks up at you and waits for you to nod, and seeing him like this, his eyes heavy and dark beneath his lashes, a spot of color on his cheekbones, something inside you melts. You slide your fingers through his hair and he leans in, kisses your pussy and presses his warm tongue against you. Your throat feels too tight all of a sudden, your breaths coming in sharper and sharper gasps the more he nuzzles you. The sound of him lapping at you make your head spin even harder, and you lose yourself in the softness of his touch.

"Just like that," you force out, pushing his face deeper into your cunt, and when he nudges your entrance with his tongue, dips inside before he sucks at your clit, you do let out a cry, wrecked and broken, and dig your heels into his shoulder blades. "Again, please, Master," you say, your entire body shaking.

"Anything for you, Padawan," he murmurs against you, and groans as soon as he properly starts eating you out. Two of his fingers prod at you, and you pull his hair to tell him to go on, and they slide in without meeting much resistance. You clench around him immediately, his thick fingers filling you up perfectly, but he doesn't move, not yet.

"Master," you whine. "Please."

And he smiles against you, gently bites your skin, and fucks his fingers in and out of you, curling them experimentally until you groan, and then he keeps hitting that spot, without mercy, his hot mouth and the scrape of his beard pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Heat coils in your belly, and your release builds until you're thrashing underneath him, but it's a sound he makes, low in his throat, that does it for you.

"Master," you whisper, or try to; you don't recognize the sound of your own voice. Your orgasm rips through you like a knife, tearing you apart only to put you back together as someone new, someone who got to have this.

You open your eyes to see him breathe heavily, his cheek resting against the inside of your thigh. He's almost as flushed as you feel, and smiles lazily at you when he catches you looking.

"So beautiful, Padawan," he praises, his voice rough. His fingers are still inside you, but you don't care. How could you care, feeling the way you do right now? "You did that so well. Now," he says, with a dangerous glint in his eye, "I think you deserve a treat for being such a good girl, coming so nicely on your Master's fingers."

You smile as you watch him reach down between his legs.

"Yes, Master," you say innocently. "Please teach me more."

#WAHHHHH #everyone read NEOW ! 💓

sugarrrvenomm

Mar 17, 2025

split-spectrum

CONCESSIONS

Chapter 5 - Finale

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Tags: sexually explicit content, elements of dubious consent, light bondage/restraints (handcuffs), masturbation, edging, orgasm denial, nipple play, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, cum play, this is 100% pure smut from start to finish

Length: 10.9K

Summary: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that prevents him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him. The rules of the trial are very clear. You make it your personal mission to find every exception.

☆☆☆

"I'm sorry," Obi Wan murmurs against your lips.

He says it even as he continues to kiss you. Even as his thumb nudges against your jaw, rubbing up the soft skin of your cheek. His hot breath is still inside your mouth as he whispers, "I don't know what came over me."

It's been over since it began. He's pulled away repeatedly, humming variations of denials and apologies against your lips, your cheek, your neck. But stopping still seems nearly as impossible as starting did.

The two of you don't do this. You don't kiss. You flirt, and you fight, and you share stolen moments that you can later pretend never happened. You touch him in the dark, and you don't talk about your feelings. You don't look at one another with heady desire coursing through your veins anymore. You just don't. You just can't.

And that's why, when he leans in again, instead of melting into his touch the way you want to, you glance up from his lips, catching his eyes. It's the barest of hesitations, but it's enough to make him slow down, swallow, pull back.

"Sorry." He says it low, stuck in the back of his throat, and it makes you feel like you're drowning.

It fucking kills you to hear him like this - quietly losing his air of formality. His hair is mussed where you'd grabbed onto it, and as he pushes himself up from the bed, he grazes thumb and forefinger over his short beard, like he's trying to wipe the taste of you from his mouth.

You watch his movements, entranced and silent. He glances back at you, and suddenly the distance between where you lie and where he stands feels like a growing chasm. You lean your weight onto your elbow, about to get up and join him. You don't know what you'll do or say, but you can feel him pulling away, back into himself.

As you sit up, he takes a single step back, and just like that, it's over.

"I-" he starts quietly, eyes meeting yours and then darting away, "I need to... clear my thoughts."

Your mouth falls open, his name about to come out. But you don't know what follows it. For once, he's tied your tongue.

"I'll be in the refresher," he says, turning abruptly. "Excuse me."

Before you can begin to think of anything to say, he's heading toward the refresher, the warm, damp air from your own use billowing out when he opens the door.

He stops only to gather a change of clothes, not even glancing back as he closes the door behind him.

When the room is quiet, and all you can hear is the soft sound of water flowing in the distance, you roll onto your back, closing your eyes. That had been too far. That had been looking for trouble.

And fuck, you're still aching for it.

You're still reeling at the things he'd said. His walls had dipped for the briefest of moments, letting you in, and somehow, you'd managed to blow it, snapping him back to his senses at the worst possible time.

He'd caught you off guard. If only you hadn't hesitated, he would have found relief. Instead, you have to lie here, just thinking about the way his mouth felt against yours. Thinking about the way he'd instantly started to pull you apart at the seams, from the moment he'd gotten his hands on you.

You're practically throbbing under the soft fabric of your sleep clothes as you slip your legs beneath the covers. Stars, what you wouldn't give for some privacy right now. Years of discipline are failing you spectacularly as you squeeze your eyelids tight, trying to think of something - anything - besides the way his beard had brushed against your neck when he'd been talking in your ear.

Your hand is flat against your leg, rubbing thoughtfully, when you hear the door open again, Obi Wan emerging fully clothed.

You try not to be obvious, glancing over at him only once, then returning your stare to the bunk above you. When he shuts off the light, you listen to his bare feet as he crosses the room, then vaults gracefully up the short ladder to his bed above you.

It almost feels like you've been caught at something, even though your hand is still resting at your side. You try to focus your thoughts, calm down, and go to sleep. But all you can think about is how big and warm his hands were when they'd held your waist. How hungry his kiss had been. How deep and dark his voice had gotten against your ear.

"I should thank you..." A softer, more subdued shade of that same voice drifts down from above you.

You nearly flinch at the break in silence.

"For keeping your promise," he adds.

The hum of the ship is the only sound as you process his words. It's the last thing you'd expected him to say, though you really hadn't expected him to say anything. Usually, you don't have trouble spotting his sarcasm. This time could be an exception. You aren't certain what would be appropriate to say back.

"You're welcome," you venture.

You fight the urge to admit that it had never been your intention to stop. That despite your better judgement, you still want to take things as far as he'll let you.

After a few long heartbeats, you speak up again. "I uh, thought you felt it was a mistake. Asking me."

A soft exhale. "I should never have said that. I've put you in a difficult situation. Forgive me."

Your eyes search the darkness. As usual, he leaves so much up to your interpretation. Another long moment passes. Suddenly, you want to keep him talking. Something about the way he's holding you at arm's length tells you that if you let things end here and go to sleep, your friendship is going to shift in ways that can't be undone. So you try to think of something else to say.

"How was your shower?"

"Cold," he answers. "Very cold."

Your eyelids flutter. You try not to picture his rigid body, his hand braced against the shower wall as the cold water pulls him back from whatever might have been on his mind.

"I'm sorry if I've made things more... difficult for you."

He doesn't answer for a long time. Then you hear him slowly shift in his bed. "I suspect that by this point, things would be difficult regardless of anything you had done."

"You mean going this long would have been hard for you no matter what?"

"No," he says quietly. "I mean that this was a terrible time for us to be assigned to a joint mission."

"Oh?" you reply, your heartbeat kicking up as you try to keep your tone casual. "Why is that?"

His hesitation is palpable, almost like you can hear him holding back his response.

"You can tell me," you encourage, letting your voice grow soft and breathy.

"Well," he lets out slowly, "I spent the majority of our conversation in the galley thinking only of taking you against the wall. If this was a solo mission, I would like to believe I could avoid such thoughts."

For a moment, all you can hear is the white noise of all the remaining blood in your head rushing to your center, and you ignore the urge to make an embarrassing noise. Instead, you swallow, replying, "It's a good thing I wouldn't have let that happen."

Another pause. "Can you be so sure?"

Your face is growing hot. It's like you can feel him toeing the line, waiting for you to pull him back. You open your mouth, words coming out tentatively. "It's, uh... it's my 'sacred duty', isn't it?"

"I might have tried to coerce you," he responds.

If he keeps offering up blunt confessions wrapped in his soft, chaste delivery, you're going to lose your mind.

"I'm well acquainted with your tactics of persuasion, Obi Wan," you say lightly, as if you aren't seconds away from touching yourself. "What would you have done to coerce me into letting you fail?"

"I think the question is better asked, what wouldn't I have done?"

Shit, he's doing this on purpose. He must be.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I might have appealed to your sense of decency; tried to convince you to have mercy on me."

You should stop the conversation here. You should laugh and give him some clever quip about him never showing you mercy in training matches. You should tell him it would never work, and leave it at that.

But instead, your throat going dry, you simply ask, "How would you do that?"

It's an opening that shouldn't exist; a lit path that should have remained dark.

He answers, slowly, "I would have held you against that wall, rather than let you leave."

"Mm-hm," you hum softly, listening intently as his words become quieter.

"I would have ended that foolish argument."

Your fingertips graze the side of your leg again. "How?"

"I'd have kissed you. Properly."

"Yeah?"

"And I would have shown you exactly what you do to me."

It's hard not to let your words come out as an airy whine. "What- what do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean."

Your chin tilts up. Your hand slithers below your waistband. "Obi Wan..."

"I might have pulled your clothes off, then and there. Would you have stopped me?"

You shake your head, though he can't see it. "No."

"If you'd let me, I would have touched you. Stars, I wanted to."

You can't answer. You're circling around your clit, wetness soaking your fingers.

"I wanted to ask for what you'd offered me before."

"Wh-what I'd offered?"

"Your mouth," he answers, sounding like the very thought is painful. "Though I couldn't. If you had said it, I would have had to refuse."

"Refuse?" you breathe, reduced to repeating his words. "Why?"

"Because I-" He cuts himself off. "I would have..."

You try to keep your panting quiet.

"With the way you... use your mouth on me, I couldn't have stopped there. I would have fucked you... I..." he grinds out. "I would have-"

A moan escapes your lips, and he goes suddenly silent.

The recycled air hangs still for an eternity.

He'd heard you.

You can do nothing but wait. Wait for the question. The confusion. The accusation.

But it never comes.

Then, finally, movement.

He rolls in his bunk, and you freeze, pulling your hand up and lying still as you hear him shift.

You want to say something, to make an excuse, to pretend nothing had happened. But the sound had been unmistakable. And your breath is coming too short to even speak.

You have no idea what he intends to do, but for some reason, he seems to be getting out of bed.

You can barely make out his form when he slowly steps down from above you, crowding into your bunk in the darkness. He comes closer, whispering your name, and when you don't reply, he leans down, giving you plenty of time to pull away.

You don't make a move; don't say a word. His mouth finds yours, and you sigh softly against it.

He kisses you, slowly this time, exploring you carefully and precisely. He waits to feel every movement that you reciprocate, brushing his bottom lip delicately across your top lip, waiting for you to spread open for him, which you eagerly do. Minutes pass before he finally slides his tongue into your mouth and drags a needy sound out of you.

He passes a hand down at the same time, reaching under your clothes and between your legs with a quiet certainty. Pressing his first two fingers down, he sinks into your wetness and draws them out again. His lips pull apart from yours.

"You were touching yourself," he says, the faint light in the room dancing in the reflection of his eyes. His hand drops to the bedding, evidence smearing across the fabric as he looks to you for answers.

"I..." You're obscenely embarrassed, but you try to keep from dropping his gaze. "I didn't mean for you to... to notice."

His features have taken on an emotion you can't quite place. "How long have you felt... like this?"

Your face flushes. It must be a joke, but you have no idea how to respond. "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "I had no idea you..."

"What?"

"When you offered to help me, I hadn't thought..."

You look at him for a long time, taking in his blown-out pupils, his kiss-swollen lips, his undeniable sincerity.

The truth washes over you, slowly sinking in.

All this time, he'd thought you'd been simply putting up with his request. That you were being a good friend. That you'd only offered to help him out of obligation.

His gaze falls off to the side, then drags back to you. "I had thought it was for my benefit alone."

You try to find the words to express how fucking mad with want that he's been driving you this entire time, but you come up empty. Instead, at long last, all you can say is, "No."

"No?" he whispers.

You shake your head softly. "No."

For a moment, he looks as if you've punched him. Then his wide eyes flicker down to your lap. "Show me, then," he breathes. "Will you?"

When he lowers his hands to your hips, resting his thumbs inward, awaiting your permission, it's like his touch is scorching you; boiling you over, even through your clothes.

You suck in air, trying desperately to clear your head. There's a reason you can't just give in and let him sink his fingers back in exactly where you need them. There's definitely a good reason. If only you could think of anything beyond how good his hands would feel on your skin...

But, no. Biting your lip, you shake your head and use every remaining shred of your willpower to say, "If you want, I'll show you. But not like this."

His face falls, confusion staining his features as he pulls his hands back. "What do you mean?"

You try to keep your panting quiet enough that he can't hear it, pressing back on your elbows and lifting your chin to look past him, over the side of the bed. "Could you get my pack for me?"

His uncertain look lingers, but he pulls your pack up and hands it to you. Digging inside, you find what you need.

His demeanor shifts the instant he catches sight of them. "You packed them anyway."

You give him a shy shrug, looking at him coyly through your eyelashes. "Never hurts to be prepared."

He swallows. "Those would not be necessary for what I had in mind."

He gives a pointed downward look, and you try not to shiver. Steeling yourself, you answer, "If you want to watch, we should put certain... assurances in place. As your witness, I think it's best to be safe."

It's a lie, of course. A lie to finally get what you want, after all this desperate trying.

His reaction earlier had shown you that the only way you can be sure to finish what you start is to literally hold him in place. You can't risk him losing his nerve again. Despite the fog of sex clouding your thoughts, you know this is your final chance, and you have no intention of wasting it. You aren't just going to offer him simple, straightforward relief. You're going to draw it out until it's the only thing he can think of. Until he can do nothing but give in.

"So," you ask, dawning your best false bravado and sitting up to encircle one of his wrists in the first of the binders. He doesn't pull away, but he hardly looks pleased. "What's it going to be?"

As you ask the question, you activate the first binder and meet his eyes. The uncertainty is still there, but it doesn't completely mask the excitement beneath. He exhales, then tucks his other arm behind his back, allowing you to chain him to the handle of the durasteel panel at the end of your small bunk. His shoulders are pulled into a hard line and he rests in a kneeling position, looking down at you as you slowly lie back on the bed.

"Thanks for trusting my judgement," you tell him, getting comfortable in the soft covers, but hesitating before slipping your hand beneath your clothes again. His eyes follow your movement, and your fingers rest just shy of where they should be going.

"You left me few other options," he replies, settling back against his restraints.

Looking up at him, you suddenly feel self-conscious. Has your coercion gone too far?

"You had options," you clarify. "You still have them."

He smirks. "Hardly. Remain a free man, or watch you pleasure yourself. To call that a choice would make me a fool."

You give a soft breath, then your fingers drop low. You can see his smirk falling away just as your eyelids flutter shut.

Your hand glides easily to where it had been only moments before, listening to the sound of his voice as you'd touched yourself. Your chest is tight with the anxiety of knowing he's watching you, but it's equal parts unnerving and thrilling at the same time. You start to play with yourself and the mix of adrenaline and desire shoots through you like lightning.

"Undress for me," he instructs. "Let me see."

It isn't said with anything resembling a demand, yet you shake your head, leaning back against your pillow. You're in charge. He has to know that.

"I know you aren't used to it," you reply, wrist slowing as you give him a soft smile, "but I'm giving orders at the moment." Your hand stills. "You're here to watch, nothing more."

You can feel him tense as your movement disappears. He stays quiet, as if waiting for you to continue, and when you don't, he finally speaks up.

"Don't stop, darling."

His soft encouragement nearly makes you pull your slippery-wet fingers over your clit and come on the spot. Even as you begin to drag your wrist in achingly slow circles again, carefully avoiding putting too much pressure anywhere dangerous, you're thinking about it. Maybe you could afford to tip over the edge and bite your lip hard enough to hide it. But not after he's worked you up this much. You're going to be a mess, and you know it.

Instead, you use your other hand to unbutton the top of your bodice and breathe a little deeper, holding your voice steady as you casually reply, "There it is again. You called me that earlier."

"What?"

"Darling," you say softly, trying to let it sound like an offhand observation.

"I used to call you that all the time."

Your brow creases. "I don't remember that."

"Ah," he says, sounding suddenly reserved. "Perhaps it was under my breath, then."

You open your eyes to look at him, expecting a smile, but finding him completely focused between your legs.

Stifling a whimper, you push your pants off with hurried, uncareful hands, staring up at him the whole time. You've given in much too quickly - you were supposed to draw this out. But you can't help it. He's talking you right up to the edge without even trying.

"Oh," he groans, watching you spread your legs for him and delicately begin to play with your pussy.

You lower your lashes and drag your eyes down his still fully-clothed body. You need to keep focused - keep pushing him closer to where you are.

"I should confess, this isn't the first time I've touched myself thinking of you."

He gives a small nod, not tearing his eyes from their spot. "I know. The holos."

You swallow, building your courage. "Not just then."

His eyes briefly flick up to your face, an urgent question in his gaze, but they hang there for only a second before he's distracted back to your center.

Letting out a slow breath, you let yourself ease your middle finger against your clit, the air on your skin chilling the wetness running along the insides of your thighs. "After that night we fell asleep together."

A loud huff of breath escapes him. "You... you didn't..."

Building toward orgasm isn't going to take long. You're practically soaking your fingers as you admit it to him: "Right afterward; just like this."

You let out a little shudder, speeding up your movements when you hear the soft clink of him readjusting in the binders.

"Let me touch you."

You leave it hang, as if you hadn't heard it.

"I touched myself here, too, imagining it was you."

Your free hand lifts to your left nipple, brushing it softly at first and then circling it until it starts to harden. Your bodice is open at the top, but still held tightly together at the bottom. As you near the edge, you study Obi Wan's face, watching his frustration build at each slow, deliberate movement. You pull your other hand up and drag your slick over your sensitive skin, using it to bring your other nipple to a hardened bud.

"Have you ever been touched like that?"

He doesn't answer, jaw tight and eyes fixated on your roving fingers.

"I think you'd like it," you go on, cupping your breasts and lazily drawing your fingertips over your skin. Then, you sit up and crawl the short distance to him.

"What do you think?" you ask innocently, hands spreading under his outer tunic. You rub your hand experimentally back and forth a few times to see if he'll bristle, but if anything, he seems to lean into your touch. Sliding your hand beneath his outer tunic, you brush his nipple through the remaining cloth. Delightfully, you find that it's already hard.

You smile, pushing his outer tunic over his shoulders. "You're a little more indecent than I thought, Obi Wan."

His lips are parted as he stares down your body, then back to where you're touching him.

"You have no idea."

You suck the edge of your bottom lip into your mouth, then take both your hands and trail them lightly against the soft fabric of his inner tunic, from his shoulders down to his stomach, palms flat. Then you bring your thumbs up to his nipples and begin to tease. His eyes roll up, then fall shut. He doesn't say anything out loud, but his chest begins to heave with shallow, harsh breaths.

You go on like that for a long while, drinking in every sharp intake of air, every roll of his shoulders, and every time he opens his eyes to look at you through a glossy daze.

"Let's make you a little more comfortable, hm?" you finally say, reaching to remove his inner tunic as well, but struggling with the resistance of the rest of his clothes, the multiple layers all held tight by his belt. You lower your hand, then stop to look at him before gently tugging at it.

"Can I take this off?"

"Yes," he answers before you even finish your last word.

You grin, freeing his waist and shoving both his tunics back, pushing open his neckline to reveal the bare skin beneath, until he's naked to the waist. With his clothes still draped halfway over his arms, you simply stare. The muscles bound to every inch of his frame are almost too much of a distraction to notice the obscene bulge straining in his pants. Almost.

"You, uh..." Your voice nearly cracks and you carefully clear your throat. "You look... really good like this."

Obi Wan, still gazing at your nearly naked body, barely seems to have noticed you talking. "I can't say what I think of the way you look." After a moment, he adds, "There aren't words in Basic for the things I want to do to you."

You feel a pulse between your legs, then smile weakly. "Let's just focus on you for the moment."

Your thumbs brush over his bare nipples again and he gasps. "That- that feels..."

He dissolves into short breaths, going silent for a long time as you drag the tips of your fingernails up and down his chest with feather-light touches. His biceps flex in time with your hypnotic rhythm as his skin pricks into goosebumps.

"Good, isn't it?" you say softly, not expecting a response as you watch him curl and flex beneath your touch. You go lower, daring to slide your hands low enough that they graze the skin beneath his belly button.

When you can see his stomach beginning to tighten in apparent frustration, you start to tease his nipples again, and he lets out a noise somewhere between startled and relieved. You only tease him briefly, then give him a moment's break to catch his breath, tracing his bare shoulders with your fingertips.

"How..." he manages after his panting subsides, "...did you know..."

You give him a wry smile, flicking your thumbs back and forth softly over his nipples again. "How did I know you'd like this?" you finish for him. "Just a feeling."

He moans in response, hips bucking forward. His face is starting to get flushed, and you suppress the urge to lathe your tongue over his neck.

"Why don't you lie down for me?" you purr into his ear.

He pulls at the binders, making an obvious point. "You've made that rather difficult."

Hesitating, you look him over, trying to let the logical part of your brain swim back to the surface. On the one hand, you know taking him out of the binders is going to lead to a conversation about getting him back into them, which ultimately could put an end to this. On the other hand, the image of Obi Wan lying beneath you, spread out, completely at your mercy...

"Just one hand."

You hold his gaze for a moment, waiting for him to agree. He raises his brows in that charming way he has, not saying anything back. Ever the skilled tactician, even in a moment like this, he's not going to volunteer anything he doesn't have to.

"I'm going to let one hand free, just so you can lie down," you clarify, reaching behind him to use the fingerprint scanner on the pre-programmed binders. You rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the side of his face. "That means you lie down as soon as I press this button, right? Nothing else. Nothing to break the rules."

His eyelashes are hanging low as he stares at your mouth, not answering. It takes him a long time to drag his eyes back up to yours, and when he does, your heartbeat kicks up wildly. You click the button, only vaguely aware that he hadn't yet answered.

His hand finally loose, he doesn't let go of eye contact as he reaches for your chest, lightly dragging his fingertips beneath your collarbone.

"L-lie down," you whisper, not moving as he smooths the side of his knuckle down your bare skin. You arch your back instinctively, letting out a short, soft moan when he grazes your nipple. Your eyelashes flutter closed, despite your efforts. You force them open again.

"My goodness," he says breathlessly, sweeping his hand up to your cheek. "You are beautiful."

Fighting hard against the flush that you can already feel is settling deeply in your face, you force a dismissive smile and lift your own hand over his hand. "The words of a man currently tied to my bed, who would say anything to make me let him loose."

He meets your gaze straight-on. "The words of a man too desperate to tell anything but truth."

"Obi Wan," you murmur softly, not sure if you mean to chastise or encourage him.

He slides his hand to your jaw, starting to lean in for a kiss. That finally pulls you out of your daze. Heart racing, you lean in first. And harder.

Before he can meet your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, you close your mouth over his, plunging your tongue deep and drawing out a moan from him.

Using the momentum to push him back against the panel, you raise his hand up above his head, kissing him with every bit of the passion you've been holding back, ignoring the pulsing need to give in and simply press your body up against him, kiss him, taste him. Instead, you focus on getting his hand into position, and give a satisfied hum against his mouth as you clip the second binder back into place.

He makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat, but he does not stop kissing you.

His lips are ravenous, as if he knows the second he stops, you're going to pull away. He isn't playing with you; isn't going along with your teasing. He's unabashedly trying to feel whatever he can get. You use it to your advantage, pushing his pliant body toward the bed, sucking his bottom lip as you ease him down until he's lying beneath you.

When you finally pull apart, you murmur against his mouth, "I'm sorry."

He's looking up at you, lips parted, looking slightly accusatory but overall like he would very much like to continue kissing. "That was quite unfair."

"I... I couldn't trust myself," you admit, sitting up.

He licks his lips, then answers in an infuriatingly calm tone, "You might have trusted me instead, then."

You sit back, letting your eyes travel brazenly over his body, his arms held above his head and the rest of him lying spread out for you. You swallow, then try to match his unaffected tone. "Well. You never agreed to the terms, did you?"

His chest is heaving, but he still maintains that silky-smooth intonation. "I was hardly given the chance."

You drag your fingers up and down his skin, starting with his arms, which look thick and bracing from this angle. The dark hair of his underarms is inexplicably salacious.

"And if I gave you the chance now?" you ask, fingers drifting lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of his sides. You watch him shiver, skin prickling.

"The terms were... quite restrictive," he retorts, then closes his mouth to breathe through his nose.

By the time you reach his waist, he's visibly straining under your touch. He no longer looks combative. He just looks very, very serious.

You brush your fingers along his pants, taking care to stay above the waistline. After you've run your nails along it a few times, you casually ask him, "Can I take these off?"

He nods his head, ruffling his hair in the back. "Please."

"Mm," you answer, then slide your thumbs back up to play with his nipples again. "Good to know."

He sucks in, letting out sharp, harsh little breaths as you toy with him. You bring one thumb up to your mouth, lick it, and then slide it across his right nipple. Then you lean over his body to blow softly over the wet skin.

He jerks, sucking air between his teeth at the sensation, and meets your eyes. "Wh-why did you ask, if you weren't - ah - going to..."

He trails off as you lightly drag your nails down his chest, not stopping as you brush over his hardened nipples. His back arches off the bed and you can see the muscles of his arms clench tight.

"Because," you reply, forcefully nonchalant, "I want to make sure you won't stop me."

"I assure you," he grinds out, "That is the furthest thing from my mind."

He's dangerously close to encouraging you. Should you remind him that he can't technically ask for this, or you will have to stop?

No. He knows the rules. He said it himself.

You tease a finger beneath his waistband, then go back to stroking him lightly over the chest, humming approvingly at every little panting breath he gives in return.

You try to think of a way to re-frame things, giving him a careful reply. "Besides... it's not like you have the means to stop me, if you wanted to."

He nods along vigorously, watching you get closer and closer to his straining cock with every brush of your hand.

"You're right," he breathes.

You palm him through his clothes, his head falling back in relief when you finally touch him. The weight of his cock in your hand makes you want to moan. He's leaking through the fabric, so hard it must be painful. He gives a small whimper at the contact.

Your mouth already watering, you continue to give him soft, slow strokes, watching his face contort beautifully. Enjoying the sensation, you intend to draw this out as long as possible. The thought suddenly makes you shake your head a little.

"I can't believe you thought I was doing this all for you," you say softly. "You really thought I wasn't enjoying myself? That I wasn't into this?"

"Believe me..." He pauses to catch his breath, opening his eyes to look down at you. "If I had thought that those holos you sent were anything but instruments of torture, I would have taken your door off its hinges getting into to your quarters."

"What?" you blurt out, hand stilling on his cock. "But... you wouldn't have been able to do anything."

His brows furrow slightly. "On the contrary. Giving myself pleasure is strictly forbidden. Giving you pleasure..."

"...would have left you even worse off," you finish for him, trying to be reasonable.

He gives you a rakish grin. "A sacrifice well worth making."

Fuck, you need his cock in your mouth.

You gather fabric tight in both your hands, dragging his pants off his hips all in one slow, deliberate pull. You keep the fabric taut, gripping hard until his cock bursts out, standing rigidly all at once. Enveloping the leaking tip in your mouth, you can't hold back any longer. You take him all in one swallow.

He gasps, shockingly loud this time.

The sound warms your cheeks, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, and you begin to bob your head over the length of him as he lets out anguished sounds from deep in his chest.

You keep your hand wrapped around the base of him, pumping him steadily, drool filling your mouth embarrassingly fast. His hips are bucking to meet every jerk of your hand, and your eyes roll back at the feeling of him filling you up. You lift your eyes to see his face, but from this angle all you can see is the underside of his beard and his flushed, open lips. His head is thrown back in what looks like silent agony.

You slide your lips back to his head, sucking there until he makes a deliciously urgent, overwhelmed sound. Then you pop off of him for a moment, licking your lips and letting him catch his breath. His chest is flushed red, sweat beading at his brow. He looks down at you, eyes wild.

"Fuck," he whines raggedly. "Oh, fuck..."

You smile innocently. "Good?"

He drops his head back, panting. "Unbelievable."

You hum in response, gently kissing the side of his cock. He twitches, and you flatten your tongue, licking a slow stripe from his base to his tip, then spread your lips and take him again in one languid mouthful. You drag several more expletives out of him, gripping his thigh with one hand and starting to tease his balls with the other.

"Oh, yes," he moans, hands dropping limp against his restraints. "That's it. Don't- don't stop..."

Your eyes go wide and you slow down, hesitating. Isn't that... isn't what he just said...

You hold him with one hand, stopping and swallowing so you can speak. "I, uh- um..."

He sits up, pulling at the chain to look at you, eyes glossy and lost. "Your mouth," he rasps. "Please."

That seals it. Damn him.

He's at the edge of coming. You can feel his dick throbbing in your hand, and you could give it to him. You could, but...

"I... I can't," you answer, hating the words. You stroke him a little, not able to move away or let go. Not able to stop entirely.

Breath escapes him in erratic huffs. He sounds like he's almost laughing in disbelief, but his face is all desperate panic. "What?"

"I can't," you say, sounding like you're pleading. "You told me you couldn't ask for it. You made me promise."

His mouth is hanging open. All he says is your name as an obtestation.

Your face crumbles. "I'm sorry. I have to. You... you wanted this."

He shakes his head. "No, no, listen-"

"I should really..." You need to excuse yourself. Put as much distance between you as possible. Lock yourself out of the room if you have to. But looking at him like this... His hair is a matted mess. It's flattened against the crown of his head and jutting up behind his ears where he'd rubbed against his own arms, writhing under your touch. His jaw is slack, his chest ruddy and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You've never seen him like this before. If you didn't know better, you'd think he'd seen battle.

"S-should really..." you repeat, face pinched tight in denial as you jerk him slowly and watch him buck at the slightest touch. "I should go."

"No, wait," he urges, voice cracking a little. "Just- just stay. For a moment."

"I don't think I should." You finally pull your hand away and he sighs roughly.

"Let me feel you," he pleads, eyes meeting yours.

"No, I... I'm not supposed to," you reply, wanting absolutely nothing more than to give in.

He shakes his head. "Please. Let me touch you."

A flush overtakes you, and you sit up to pull the edge of a blanket over your unclothed lower half. "I can't... let you do that."

He looks physically pained at your answer. "You cannot leave me like this. Only a touch. Just one hand. I'll do nothing to break our agreement."

His offer is so clearly going to make things harder for him, and perhaps it's selfish to accept it. Perhaps you should hesitate; let him take some time to reconsider.

Perhaps a better friend would have taken a moment to meditate on exactly what it meant for you to allow this one final concession. Or any of the other little concessions that have led you to this very choice.

But you aren't a good friend. You are a very bad, very fallible friend. And you release just one of his wrists. And he's sitting up, leaning toward you before you've even moved the blanket.

He kisses you, hand dropping down immediately, dragging from your stomach down to your navel. It feels like he's setting you alight. When he goes lower, you bite back a pathetic whine. You're already so worked up, the faintest attention from him is overwhelming.

"Uncuff me," he whispers against your lips, fingers grazing your sensitive skin.

You sigh helplessly. Stars, you want nothing more. You swallow, shaking your head in a feeble attempt to regain control. His fingers slide between your legs and his mouth falls open when he feels how wet you are.

"Oh, darling, uncuff me."

You shake your head again, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers delve deeper, your slick dripping over his hand. "N-no, Obi Wan, I can't," you plead, close to the edge already.

How can you tell him that the binders are now your last shred of self-control and you have no idea what will happen if they come off?

"Mm-" you whine high in your throat, letting yourself give into the feeling of him touching you, if only for a moment. Then you reach down to grasp his wrist, as if to stop him, but making no effort to actually go through with it.

Feeling his wrist move beneath your palm, you can't deny the thrill of letting him do this to you while holding onto his arm. You're acting as if you're holding him back when you're practically guiding him through it.

He curls his fingers up and presses them deep inside you, making you moan. It's such a needy, depraved sound that your eyes widen in surprise and you suddenly realize that you need to stop before you lose control completely.

Obi Wan catches the look in your eyes, though, and it's in that moment that you realize - you already have.

He leans forward to kiss your neck, pumping his fingers faster. "Let me taste you," he whispers against your neck, breath hot and ragged.

You lift your head, giving him more space to drag his tongue across your skin. "We shouldn't."

"There isn't a single rule you would be breaking."

You bite your lip, unable to focus on anything but the way he feels inside you.

"Please, let me hear you come, or I'll spend my nights dreaming of it until I go mad. Let me taste you. It's all I ask."

"Fuuuck." You drag out the word.

Every other day of your life, you can be a Jedi. You can be mindful and temperate and restrained. But not tonight. Not with his eyes so soft, his deep, accented voice sliding thick around your name, pleading for all these lovely sins.

If it had been anyone but him, you could have said no. But it's Obi Wan.

Obi Wan, whispering soft encouragement when you lean into his side, pressing your finger on the button.

Obi Wan, rolling over your body and wrapping you in his arms the instant he's free, pinning you to the bed and sucking at your neck like you're dripping honey.

Obi Wan, pulling you down to the edge of the bed with the strength and wildness of a man who's been denied far too long.

Obi Wan, kneeling between your legs and sliding his tongue into your pussy before you can say another word.

"Obi Wan..." His name spills out of you like a confession. Like you've been waiting to moan it like this since the day you'd agreed never to do it again.

His eyes are closed, his proud, regal nose buried deep between your thighs. He starts to drag his tongue up the river of slick pouring out of you, over and over and over while you squirm at the warm, unyielding pressure he's giving you. He's nowhere near your clit. This is all for him. Just tasting you, like he'd said.

It takes him a few minutes to gain some semblance of composure, finally pulling back to lick you properly, from the pool of your wetness all the way up. His tongue is flat and firm, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat when you roll your hips against him.

"Shit-" you gasp, pleasure winding steadily through your body with every methodical drag of his mouth. He's kissing you; sucking you - fervent, hungry, almost punishing. When his tongue delves into you again, the bedding twists beneath your hands.

"So good," you urge him on, wishing you could come up with better words to describe what he's doing to you, but your mind is half gone already, melted into a puddle of 'yes' and 'ohh' and 'just like that...'

You fight to open your eyes. It's going to be over too quickly if you keep them closed, letting the heat curl up hard and sudden. You need to stretch this out. You want to enjoy every moment, every detail. But looking down, you quickly realize, is only going to send you rocketing over the edge.

His eyes are still closed, his brows knitted hard together. You can't resist running your fingers through his beautiful golden hair, enjoying the way the dim light plays in the feathery locks. Running your hand along his ear, you sigh without meaning to. You could come just from the sight of him.

"We can... slow down," you force out, trying to make him give you a second to breathe. He just keeps licking you. Same steady pace. Same hard grip on your thighs.

"If you want," you try again.

He finally slows, murmuring warm words against you. "You haven't the faintest idea, do you?"

An electric thrill courses through you at the sound of his deepened voice, hearing and feeling it at the same time. "Mm?" is all you can manage to squeak out.

Then he pulls his mouth from between your legs and looks up at you, beard sopping wet and just the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. "How badly I've longed for this."

As he replaces his mouth with his thumb, rubbing softly at your clit, you gasp and stammer out, "Because of the Nikk-" you shudder, shocks of pleasure rolling through you as he slides the back of his index finger up and down, gathering your wetness. "Th-the trial?"

He slides that finger, along with a second one, back inside you. Your gasp turns broken, choked off in the back of your throat.

His blue eyes are piercing in their intensity, his voice low and a little rough when he gives you his answer before sealing his mouth over you again.

"No."

Your eyes roll back in your head as he plays with your clit, tongue stroking over you as your hands bury themselves in his soft hair.

"Obi Wan!" you choke out, all the heat inside you gathering tightly and ready to burst. "Fuck!"

He gives you perfect rhythm, working you from two directions at once; inside and outside, steady and merciless. You can feel the soft bristles of his beard against the tender skin of your inner thigh as his jaw moves, and you mentally file it away - knowing the memory is going to haunt you every time your own fingers bring you relief when you're alone.

When he finally sends you flying over the edge, your moans turn into ragged whimpers, your body tensing hard as your pussy convulses and twitches around his fingers. You cry his name again, almost in shock at how good it feels. He's wringing every bit of your orgasm from you, dragging his fingers in that perfect curl until you have to sit up, palms digging into the mattress and rocking your body forward as the pleasure starts to flirt with overstimulation.

When you do, though, you can see the motion his body is making. It's dark in the room, but the light coming off the nearby control panel is enough to see Obi Wan's hips thrusting even as his upper body stays pinned between your thighs.

A sudden wave of euphoria shoots through your veins as you realize he's fucking himself against the bed while you're coming in his mouth.

"Fuck," he gasps, pulling off only when you shove back his shoulders. His eyes don't leave your center. "I can't... I need-"

Your mouth is still hanging open as you collapse back on the bed, legs trembling. You blink at him through a daze, watching him where he kneels. His hand - the same one he's just slid out of your pussy - goes straight between his legs and he moans.

His expression is like nothing you've ever seen him wear before. He looks completely debauched; eyes so big and soft and tormented, deep red flush set high on his cheek bones, and mouth dropped open like he's fighting for his breath. Despite your bone-deep satisfaction, you feel a flutter in your stomach from seeing him like this.

"I can't," he repeats, using one big palm to cradle your thigh as he strokes his cock furiously. "Please..."

Your hand slides down to touch his as he grips your soft skin, thumb dragging through the wetness that's spread all over your inner thighs. Your head still in the clouds, you manage to pant out, "You... made me promise..."

"A promise, is that all?" he asks, voice shaking. "Keep it. I just... need to feel you."

Wondering if it's your hazy thoughts or his words that are making no sense, you loll your head to the side. "How... could we...?"

"It isn't against the rules. I swear it."

Technically, many things could be allowed within the rules. The way the Nikkama is worded... though it's been translated so many times...

There's the letter of the law, and the spirit of the law. Which one can you bring yourself to follow?

With Obi Wan staring up at you, stomach smeared with his own sticky mess from rubbing himself against a mattress instead of you, technicalities suddenly sound incredibly tempting.

"Damn," you say softly as you unabashedly stare at him. "You truly are a great negotiator."

His brows knead together. "Negotiating? No, darling, I am begging."

He sinks one knee into the edge of the bed, leaning over you. "This is a cry for mercy."

As he strokes himself, you find yourself spreading your legs.

"Obi Wan..."

"Please, I... a-anything," he stammers hoarsely, hand grazing his cock and then tightening as he looks down. "I need it quite- quite badly."

You watch the way he palms himself, brazenly drinking in every inch of your body. And you realize how truly weak you are.

"You... couldn't put it inside..."

Relief seems to flood him as he shakes his head, leaning into you and stroking himself faster. "No... no..."

He thumbs gently at your pussy, spreading you open, and groans.

"Stars, you're so... You're dripping," he murmurs, sounding awestruck. "Lovely girl."

You make a high noise in the back of your throat, not able to answer as the heavy warmth of his cockhead is pressed against you, sliding between the lips of your pussy.

Obi Wan makes a sound like he's taken a blaster bolt straight to the chest. He still has one leg on the floor and you can feel his thigh shaking, struggling to hold him up. He's half pressing himself down into your warmth, frantic and messy as his hips buck at their own pace.

You're still buzzing from your first orgasm, but there's something deeper than just the physical that's starting to burn again already. The look on his face alone is enough to make you throb.

"We... we have to stop," you say, in a voice that's anything but convincing. "We- we have to."

"It's alright," he pants out, eyes glassy as his hands slide to your waist, holding you steady to fuck through your slick, inviting warmth. "It's alright."

You know it's not, but feeling him rocking against you like this, desperate and needy and savage, you can no longer bring yourself to care.

"F-fuck." His voice breaks, dropping off from a whine. "It's too much-"

He drops his hand into the bedding, the other hand holding your leg open as he thrusts against you, slipping over and over through the wet mess of your pussy as you writhe beneath him, hips rolling at the stimulation. His thick head dragging over your clit with each thrust is stoking the heat inside you, building it up all over again.

"Too much, it's too... oh, stars above, I'm going to come, I-"

He looks up at you with sudden, shocked eyes as if he's pleading for you to stop him, but you're too blissed-out and worked up to do anything of the sort. He reaches down, gripping himself and whimpering, still rutting against you, even through his fist.

His hips buck once more, twice, then...

"Fuck, I'm coming..."

He shudders, the head of his cock thrusting over your clit and shooting warm ropes of cum over your pussy, coating you until you're dripping with it. As each spatter of cum hits your skin, waves of pleasure and relief flood you, almost as if you're the one who's finally being allowed to come after weeks and months of building it up.

When he finally finishes, you let your head fall back, exhausted.

"Shit," you breathe out. "That... was incredible."

A low groan is all he gives you in response, still thrusting his softening cock against you. His eyelids dip low and he seems lost in a trance. You close your own eyes, letting yourself enjoy it. You can't deny your satisfaction, soaking in his sticky mess.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Obi Wan," you tell him after a few long moments of feeling him slowly drag against you. You wonder if he's quiet from disappointment, or something else. He doesn't answer you.

"I guess we failed, then?" you ask softly, trying to hide the desire in your voice when he slides over your clit. He doesn't stop moving, just slows to a pace that sends shivers down every inch of your body.

Still looking like he hasn't quite come back to himself, Obi Wan finally replies, "I wouldn't say that."

You smirk, but it's cut short when you feel him start to glide against your entrance. You stiffen, unsure whether it was an accident.

"I... I thought..."

"It's alright," he says soothingly again, just as he had before. He doesn't make any effort to elaborate.

He slides back and forth a few times more, then gathers some of the cum that's dripped down your legs with the head of his cock, pushing it back inside you. It's only when you feel him pressing at your entrance again that you realize he's starting to get hard.

"Obi Wan..." you murmur, eyes rolling back when he tenses, about to push in.

"Yes." He says it as a statement and a question, all at once. Looking up to meet your eyes, he waits, as if wondering if you'll ask him to stop. As if terrified that you will.

It's then that you realize, you aren't going to stop him. You simply don't have the power within you. Whatever it is that draws you so deeply to Obi Wan is stronger than you can bear to hold off anymore. But you have to put up a show, even if the lie is only for his benefit.

You swallow. "I don't think we should."

His eyes close with a particularly slow thrust. When he opens them, he replies with an edge of nervousness in his voice. "You don't think we should, or you don't want to?"

Trust him to get to the heart of the matter. You tamp down the hot whine in the back of your throat. "It doesn't matter," you reply, knowing you just gave your answer.

"I -ah - I won't..." he breaks off into a moan when the head of his cock presses shallowly into you.

"...won't put it in?" you ask, vulgar.

He shakes his head, mouth open. "No, I won't."

Your pussy sucks him tightly, making you gasp. "N-not all the way?"

He moves, and you hear the obscene sound of him sliding in and out of you. "No. No."

He shoves in a little deeper this time, making room for himself. Everything in you is burning to ask him for more. Feeling this much of him is like torture. He's right there, so big, so thick, and you just want him to fill you as completely as only he can.

Instead, you nod along with his words. "As long as you're in control."

He pulls out with a gasp, thrusting against the side of your pussy as if you've brought him back to reality for a moment.

Gasping to catch your own breath and fighting the urge to clench your thighs around him in frustration at the loss, you ask him shakily, "You're in control, right?"

He nods, arms trembling as he holds himself over you, still simulating fucking you with quiet ferocity.

"Perfectly," he promises, the word sounding drawn out, like he's barely aware he's saying it.

"Good," you tell him, fully concentrated on his cock spreading you open again, pushing into you with careful restraint. "Okay."

He holds there for one blissful moment, then frantically pulls out again, rubbing over your clit and moaning. The sound makes your pussy throb, clenching around nothing.

"I- I just need..." he lines up with you again, and you can feel a heavy spurt of precum dribbling from his cock just before he pushes inside. "Oh, need to feel you."

This time, when he stretches you open and you watch his face get drawn and tight, you realize this is the last time you can stand it. If he pulls out again, you will actually lose your mind. You feel like you've lost it a little already.

You reach a hand up, brushing back the hair that's fallen over his face, then wrap both your arms around his neck. "You are feeling me, Obi Wan."

He lets out a deep groan, pushing shallowly in and out of you.

"Do you want to come inside me this time?"

He makes a choking sound, hips stuttering wildly as he pulls back out. "You would let me?"

Heat warms your cheeks, as you suddenly remember his earlier words. "Well... didn't you say something about begging?"

Obi Wan meets your eyes, his cock hanging heavy against you. "Please, let me finish inside you."

It makes your stomach flip, and it takes your full concentration not to come on the spot. You force out a teasing, "What happened to your Jedi resolve?"

He's still holding you in his gaze as his voice goes low and plaintive. "You've broken it, darling." He gives a little groan as he pushes the tip of his cock back inside. "Along with the rest of me."

His hips shift down a little this time, and his next thrust is world-shattering.

You make a noise somewhat like a sob and he slowly pulls back, moaning deep in his chest.

"I'm sorry, that- that was a mistake, I-"

You spread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, drawing him down to your lips for a kiss, and he sheaths himself again, fucking into you as if by instinct.

As you melt into the kiss, all the smiles and the wide eyes and the hesitating glances disappear instantly, as if a switch has been flipped. The air suddenly feels electric, and he's inside you, and everything is right in the universe.

He caves his body into yours, pounding into you with a desperate, relentless rhythm that you can feel humming in your blood. It feels like someone kick-started your heart for the first time in years.

"Thought about this for so long," you confess, losing yourself in the perfect strokes he's giving you. "You feel... so fucking good, Obi Wan."

He's panting out obscenities between every moan, but pauses to hear you speak. When he stops, at long last, it's to take off your bodice. Your breasts fall softly free of your clothing and you sigh in contentment as he pulls your naked body close, kissing you deeply.

His arms fall to your waist and he pins you down to the bed, fucking you hard and mean and perfect. His cock is so deep it's making you want to cry in relief as the waves of pleasure overtake you.

"I'm... I'm gonna come," you blurt, embarrassingly quickly.

He answers in a voice you've heard in devotary halls and senate chambers. A voice of smooth confidence and authority. A voice you've heard speaking countless holy words.

His voice is shaking as he begs.

"Come for me, please."

You gasp his name.

"Come on my cock."

Your fingers clasp helplessly around the muscles of his arm as you twitch and writhe, face pulled tight in devastating bliss.

"Come all over my cock and let me feel it."

You come for him, the feeling ripping through you with shocking intensity as he fucks you recklessly, hungrily, desperately.

He snaps his hips hard suddenly, a shocked, "Fuck, Fuck!" tearing out of him. He spills deep inside you, coming and coming and coming as your pussy milks every drop out of him.

"Oh, fuck," you moan, as he pulls back and stuffs you full again. You can feel his cum starting to leak out as his thrusts become slower and more ragged.

"Ohhh, stars," he breathes out, suddenly empty of obscenities. "Oh, my word."

He stays there, head bowed and cock deep inside you, draining the last of himself until both of you have quieted your moaning. Then your eyes meet, and you blush. You share a knowing look, and then you kiss him.

He kisses you back, cupping your jaw gently, then slowly pulls out, making you both groan. He lies down next to you in the messy blankets, pulling you close, and you roll over to look at him properly.

"That was..."

"I know."

He kisses you again.

You lie in silence, then, just enjoying the feeling of being held by him. Finally, you work up your courage and ask him the question that's been waiting at the tip of your tongue.

"Are you... I mean... was that alright?"

He regards you, looking confused. "My darling, how could you ask such a question?"

Your lashes flutter and you look down, caught off-guard for what feels like the hundredth time by his affection. "No, I mean... with the Nikkama, I'm just... I'm sorry if I let you down."

Obi Wan's eyes go soft, and he whispers your name. "Would you like to know why I chose to ask you to act as my witness?"

Despite your bone-tired body, you're suddenly wide awake. Finally, an answer to the question you'd repeatedly thought you'd figured out.

"Yes. Please tell me."

He looks down. "Because..." He pauses to lift your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. "Of all the people in my life, there are few with whom I would feel comfortable discussing... well... matters of a carnal nature."

You nod, unsurprised.

"And... of those few, there was only one person whom I felt I could trust never to return any feelings of mine."

Your eyes go wide.

"No matter how absurdly attractive..." He kisses your hand. "How wildly intoxicating..." He kisses your cheek. "How maddeningly irresistible I may find her."

He leans down and kisses along your jaw, tracing his thumb alongside it. His words are making your head swim.

"Wh... why would you think that?" you whisper, utterly stunned and confused.

Obi Wan answers matter-of-factly, "When you ended things between us-"

"When we ended things," you interrupt, brows furrowed.

He looks at you evenly, then softly continues, "When things came to an end between us, you asked me to promise we would never behave inappropriately again. It was my belief that was what you wanted."

You feel like a rug the size of a planet has been pulled out from under you.

"We both agreed... I mean, I thought we both agreed we were becoming too attached."

He smiles gently. "We did agree on that."

"And I... I mean, we..."

"When you asked that we spend less time with one another, I certainly agreed it would do some good. What I didn't expect was that the next time I reached for your hand, you would pull away."

You can hardly speak. "So you never..."

He lifts his eyebrows good-naturedly. "You broke my heart, my dear girl."

Years of unrequited moments come crashing down all at once. Every time you'd looked at him longingly from across the room, wondering if things could be different...

And the way you'd treated him during this entire trial...

You'd been torturing him. It was no wonder he thought you were doing him a favor by indulging him.

"Obi Wan, I... I regretted ending things," you confess, looking up at him. "I thought so many times about telling you my feelings, but I always held back because I thought it was what we both wanted."

"Well," he replies lightly, though his eyes are penetratingly intense. "What do you think now?"

You capture his mouth in a kiss that's full of every emotion you've left unspoken for years. You don't need another moment to think about it. You've thought about it so terribly, terribly long.

He pulls you close, deepening the kiss as you sigh softly through your nose. This is where you want to be. No question.

When you part, you're both smiling like a couple of padawans. You lay your head on his shoulder and pull the blankets tightly around your neck. Obi Wan drags lazy kisses along your brow, and your eyelids begin to grow heavy. You should really get up and tidy things before you drift off, but right now there's nothing that could make you want to move from his arms.

In the silence that follows, Obi Wan draws slow circles with his fingers over the soft skin of your shoulder. You clear your throat quietly.

"Just to say it, though," you murmur into his skin, "I am sorry we didn't pass the trial."

You can feel him smile against the top of your head.

"What is achievement without failure? I am more than willing to try again. Provided that... you were there to help me?"

"In ten years?" You lift your eyes to him, warm in his embrace. "Of course I will be."

A/N: Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this final chapter! I hope you liked it! <3

Taglist: @slinkygail @wheres-mylove @millercontracting @cacti5539 @b0xerdancer-writes @spcecadet6

Previous Chapter // Masterlist

#OH THIS IS ⭕️💢⭕️💢⭕️💢⭕️#u know what i mean ? 🤭

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs