Master Apprentice Archive Please Quick search:

Rating: PG

Categories: Q/O, POV, Romance

Spoilers: None

Warnings: None

Archive: Master & Apprentice and my web site: http://www.netwurx.net/~becknord/index.htm

Feedback: Is cherished: ghostiemail@yahoo.com

Summary: Ancient words set the mood.

Notes: Master Hilary challenged me to write a POV piece showing arousal without actually using that word (or any related words) - based on a similar challenge that she'd seen elsewhere. This is the result. :) Many thanks to Hilary for the challenge and the quick beta! I can't help tweaking, so any mistakes in the final draft are my own. Latin translations are rendered in English at the end.

DISCLAIMER: George Lucas owns all things Star Wars; I'm just borrowing. No copyright infringement is intended.

His gaze is heated; I can practically feel it boring into the side of my face, down my body. But I ignore him. I have documents to go over, procedures to consider. We'll be dealing with a volatile situation on Rimus Prime, and any mistakes could cost the Republic far more than mere convenient trade routes. Inhaling deeply, I allow myself to sink into the Senate proposal, line after tedious line weaving a carefully constructed, carefully disguised ultimatum - one I must present to the Riman government in less than forty-eight hours.

"Facis animum meum cantare."

The softly spoken words make me smile, but do not deter me from my task. My fondness for ancient languages will not be my undoing. Not tonight.

I know he's grinning. I can feel it, even from across the room with my back turned to him, just as I can practically feel the heat that radiates from his body. Where was I? Yes, the proposal.

"Animus meus es."

The words are accompanied by the sound of rustling fabric. He's getting up, approaching quietly. I can sense his slow, confident swagger and the twinkle in his beautiful eyes as he watches me for signs of surrender.

"Animus meus es," he repeats in a whisper as he draws near, lowering himself until his lips almost touch the outer shell of my left ear. "Animus meus es, mi amor."

The ripple of his breath causes me to shudder. He knows I love this melodic language, its ancient syllables rolling smoothly from the speaker's tongue. It enchants me each time I hear it. Clever, clever padawan...

Focus. The Rimans. Bad situation. Setting my jaw, I turn my thoughts back to the task at hand.

"Si te tango, mi amor, complebo."

It's not working. I won't let it. Why is it so hot in here?

"Te requiro tangere..."

No. Don't you dare, padawan mine.

"Sis?"

No.

"Sis?" Softer than a whisper this time, making my heart race.

My eyes close in rapture as his finger touches me, caressing my cheek with a feather-light touch. He's smiling. Again. And I'm lost. "Sic..."

~ * ~ finis ~ * ~

Facis animum meum cantare = You make my soul sing
Animus meus es = You are my soul
Animus meus es, mi amor = You are my soul, my love
Si te tango, mi amor, complebo = If I touch you, my love, I will be complete
Te requiro tangere = I desire to touch you
Sis = Please
Sic = Yes