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."
