Archive: M/A. But if anyone else would like it, please
ask.
Category: Very mild angst, Point of View, First Time
Rating: NC-17
Series: #5 in The Rubaiyat of Obi-Wan Kenobi series, following
Ruby on the Vine. It's actually become important to have read
the prior stories, since this is the last one I plan on
writing, though it's not the last story in the series. Make
sense?
Disclaimer: No money, no harm, not mine.
Summary: If it is not forbidden, is it allowed?
Feedback: Yes, please.
Thanks to elynross, Kim, and Sandy for beta-reading, and to
Maygra for her support.
Extra kudos to elyn for being a lifesaver. I accidentally wrote
over the finished version of this story with a bad copy, and
she was able to piece most of the missing third together from
snippets I'd sent her.
The titles in this series are:
1) Poet Laureate
2) Jedi and Roses
3) Wind and Rain
4) Ruby on the Vine
5) Shapes of Clay
6) Preferred Vintage (which was actually the first one
written.)
Many of the titles in this series were variations on phases
found in The Rubaiyat by Omar Khayyam:
http://classics.mit.edu/Khayyam/rubaiyat.html
I leaned back against the couch, turning slightly so that my
book was in better light. Obi-Wan wiggled his way further down
the cushions, his head resting on the rolled pillow at the end,
his feet in my lap. We were comfortable here, he and I, held in
a bubble of contentment that almost glowed, the reach of it
defined by the resonance of my voice.
Evenings like this were magical. Anything seemed possible --
particularly with Obi-Wan beside me.
When I was a child in the crèche, we were encouraged to
believe in magic. Toys were made of wood and stone, glass,
metal, paper, everything from deep within the living Force. And
each toy was magic, the only limitation our imaginations. There
were no faces on the dolls, so that they could be anything. A
chair was a spaceship was a tree was a throne; everything
contained more potential than could be seen.
Just as it is with the Force.
We learned to see what was important, and to change the rules
if we had reason to. For example, one of the games I loved had
small wooden sticks, taken from trees on various planets, and
we'd use them to build a tower. The child that knocked over the
tower lost, and the sticks bounced and rolled across the table
onto the floor, accompanied by squeals of delight.
I was the one who usually knocked the sticks apart. I was all
elbows and knees, and it took me years to develop a true
kinesthetic sense of my body in place and time. It would have
been disheartening, except that sometimes we played by
different rules, and I had a chance to win. But even so, I
empathized when I heard that Obi-Wan had been called 'Oafy-Wan'
when he was younger; I think I broke more glassware than any
initiate in the temple's history.
Tonight I felt like the rules had been changed, and I finally
had a chance to win. Everything around me seemed in such
disarray, the old order destroyed; yet I wanted to laugh,
feeling the new order coalesce in the Force around me. From the
looks I was getting, I think my emotions confused poor Obi-Wan.
His Master tends to be a sober man.
Yet here I was -- without drink, without drug, without any
added enhancement -- far from sober.
Obi-Wan levered himself up a bit to look at me, his feet still
lying in my lap. "Master?"
His eyes were wide, whether with shock or amazement, I couldn't
tell, but it amused me. I might have held on to the image of
him as a boy for far too long, and I could see that he'd taken
the same tack with me. Somber and controlled as I am, I
wondered if he had ever thought about what I'd been like when I
was young.
I know I've thought about what he will look like when he grows
old. How his face will change, and his skin line itself with
worry and love. I bet his eyes will never lose the hint of
mischief they always hold.
I imagine it in detail at times, because I know it is something
I will never see.
But such thoughts were too maudlin for a night like this. I set
the reader beside me, then picked up one of his feet in my
hands and rubbed it. This time, I could tell he was shocked.
This level of intimate comfort we'd left behind us with his
early adolescence. But I didn't want to stop; I laughed, and
then something within Obi-Wan changed. He looked puzzled, but
not unhappy. Confused, yet accepting. Eager, maybe.
Perhaps he was seeing me at last. The thought was both
wonderful and frightening, and I froze.
He prodded my hand with his toes again. "I was enjoying that."
Our eyes locked, and I was the one that had to turn away, the
humor I'd felt replaced with slow burning heat. I picked up his
neglected foot and began rubbing it, acutely aware of the feel
of his skin against my hands. Which of us, I wondered, had
really startled the other?
"Master, are you all right?"
I looked over at him, but my eyes could not linger for long.
He'd sprawled back against the cushion in a way that spoke to
me more of sexuality than companionship; I breathed deeply and
centered myself, pushing those thoughts aside. I had managed to
contain that side of my desire for months now, since I had
grown aware of him as a man. There was no need to give into the
need at this moment, not when everything felt so magical. This
brief flare of want would pass as quickly as it had begun.
"I am fine," I said, taking comfort in my own words. I gently
brushed my hands across Obi-Wan's foot, feeling the soft skin
on top and the hardened skin ridge at the beginning of the
sole. The skin at the heel was dry; it probably needed some
cream, but I would have to get up for that. "I was thinking
about your knighting ceremony, when I will kneel before you to
wash your feet." My hands wandered up the inside of his foot,
and I stroked the pads of my thumbs across the arch and heard
Obi-Wan's sharp gasp as I felt the knot there relax. I wasn't
sure what I was saying anymore, my attention on the feel of
Obi-Wan's feet in my hands and on the sounds of pleasure he
made; I felt my mood fading as I rambled, the need to touch him
even more intimately still strong.
I had to stop. I could feel my own desire building, and I was
glad I had not gotten the cream; it would make this more
tempting than it already was. I could see him out of the corner
of my eye as my hands kneaded his flesh, the way he arched back
when I touched a sensitive nerve, the way he sighed when the
knots gave way. I wanted him too much.
I set his feet back in my lap, stilling my hands. "I hope that
they will be in better shape then than they are now." I could
not risk even that small touch, not now. He would have to
understand.
He curled himself up and around so he could inspect his own
feet. "I will remember to cut the nails before then," he said
solemnly, "and get rid of the calluses, I would not want the
other Masters to think poorly of your training." He grinned
then, teasing me, his tone intimate, even flirtatious.
My mouth ran dry.
The reader lay next to me, and I hastily picked it back up,
finding where I'd left off. Even though my giddiness faded, it
was still good to sit next to him like this, to be reading
aloud once again. I let myself project that emotion, let him
feel it. "I am content."
Content was a good word for it, a Jedi word, full of
understatement, commitment, and depth. Not satisfied, no; the
need within me might never be satisfied. But
this...companionship fulfilled most of my moods.
And when he left me, the memories of this would remain. The
thought warmed my sudden chill. He would be a great Jedi. He
would have a good life.
"Shall I brew some tea?" Obi-Wan's voice held a tone I couldn't
remember hearing before, as if more than tea were offered. He
stretched and stood, looking down at me, a fascinating change
from our normal positions. If anything, his grin got worse, as
if he understood some momentous joke.
Such foolishness. "Tea would be good right now. There's fresh
green if you prefer."
"Back in a moment." He nodded, and I watched him walk into the
kitchen.
If anything, the magic seemed stronger now, the hairs on the
back of my arms tingling attentively. For long minutes I tried
to center, to focus on the Force, but it escaped me. No matter
how I tried, I couldn't read what was happening; I had to let
it go. I was too scattered to--
"It's steeping, Master." Obi-Wan came in again, interrupting my
thoughts. He'd also removed his robe at some point and was now
bare-chested as well as barefoot. His braid lay against his
skin, swinging slightly as he walked. His chest was a little
red, and Obi-Wan noticed my gaze. His hand came up to rub at
the red spot on his rib just under his nipple. "I spilled some
of the water when I was pouring. It's nothing, but I decided I
didn't want to wear a wet tunic."
He lay back down on the couch, his head on the pillow, feet on
my lap, but the shy boy I'd seen earlier had gotten lost
somewhere in the kitchen. The young man I watched now had
nothing of the boy about him, all lean muscles and lazy
sensuality, wearing a focused, predatory air.
I brought the reader up close to my face, turning away from the
sight. He wasn't mine to have. He had a quick wit, a ready
smile, and an easy-going nature, all wrapped in an elegant
form, but those were gifts he'd give another. He owed me
dedication, loyalty, a willingness to listen to my words and
heed them as he made his own path, while I...I needed to do
some meditation tonight.
Hands pulled the reader away from my face, and Obi-Wan slid
down onto my lap. I swallowed hard as he looked at me,
measuring me for what, I did not know. He simply laid his hand
on my chest. "Kiss me."
I could not move, my mind and body frozen at his words, so
Obi-Wan moved, instead. He leaned in, sliding his hands up and
around me, his lips brushing softly on mine. "Live in the
moment."
It was the wrong thing to say. A dozen doubts assailed me, and
I couldn't think through the fury of their chatter. Obi-Wan's
hands felt so good; I pressed into them, then pulled back. "Be
mindful of the future." I held his wrists and stared into his
eyes. "Would you mortgage your future for this?"
"I mortgage nothing, my Master. I remain your Padawan."
There was no guile in him, no deceitfulness,
no...intent...other than what he suggested. I released his
hands and reached out to stroke his cheek; he pressed a kiss
into the palm of my hand. He offered friendship, companionship,
and shared joy for the night. It was a better offer than I'd
had in years.
But oh, how I wished that I'd seen love.
The magic faded as we sat there, each of us listening to the
harmony of the Force, trying to read what it said; the only
answer was silence. The humor in Obi-Wan's eyes faded, and he
pulled away, gathering into himself
I let him, still confused at my own response.
"So the answer is no?" he asked carefully.
"I...." I swallowed and looked at him as he slid off my lap and
stood. "I need time, Obi-Wan. I need to think."
"Yes, that is the Jedi way, isn't it?" He lifted his chin and
looked at me, his arms folded protectively across his chest.
"Take your time, Master. I will be here."
He bowed, leaving the common area for his own room. I barely
heard the door close behind him as I listened to my own
thoughts. Too much confusion, I finally decided. I needed to
take a walk.
The problem was a simple one, and one that had plagued Jedi
philosophers for centuries. If something is not forbidden, but
it is not encouraged, is it still allowed?
Obi-Wan wanted me. That should have been enough, a secret
matching my own desire for him. But it was not.
My footsteps echoed in the hallways of the temple, and I
realized I was on my way to the western meditation gardens. I
frowned as I stopped, gazing down the hall. I always went to
the western gardens; they were the closest to my rooms. I knew
every nook, plant, and rock in them as if I had placed them
there myself.
I turned around and headed down a different corridor, one I
traveled infrequently. I think I had not been down this
corridor in quite a while, as I noticed that some remodeling
had been done. Six months, I was sure, though it might have
been more. A new entrance had been added to one of the inner
apartments, a rounded door, wide enough for a Hutt and tall
enough for a Wookie.
"Ah, Master Qui-Gon!" Footsteps behind me, and I turned to see
who it was. Master Tallic grinned and waved at me, dropping to
all fours to quicken his pace. I could not help but smile; Jedi
robes had not been constructed with quadrupeds in mind.
Fortunately, Master Tallic's robes had been modified so that he
could easily walk on all fours when he wanted -- or swing by
his tail, for that matter. His people lived in the rainforest
canopy for most of their lives.
He stood up when he got nearer and soothed out the sparse
covering of bright orange hair that framed most of his face. He
glanced at the door I'd been looking at and back to me. "It's a
maintenance storeroom. When Master J'anir died, no one wanted
his rooms."
Ah, how could I have forgotten? J'anir had been an institution
in the temple. He'd lost both an arm and his sight while on a
mission right after his knighting; he'd stayed in the temple
after that, specializing in strategy and tactics. I'd been so
caught up in my own thoughts that I hadn't even noticed that
J'anir's sadness still clung to these rooms, even though he had
joined with the Force. No wonder no one had wanted them.
I turned back to Master Tallic, who was looking at me
questioningly. "Yes?"
"I never see you in these corridors, Qui-Gon. Is Obi-Wan on a
solo mission?"
"Not that I know of. He still has much to learn before I would
feel comfortable releasing him for solo duty."
"Humph." Tallic's cheeks puffed up with air, and he puffed his
exasperation. "I am not asking if he was knighted."
I was tired, and I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. "Then
what are you asking?"
"No cares. I was just assigned a courier mission that I would
prefer to pass along to another. " He patted the pouch that he
carried with his tail. "And I just wondered if perhaps Obi-Wan
was available to run such errands yet."
I think I must have looked astonished, and Tallic's words
spilled out faster and faster as I listened. "I know it's a
little soon, but he seems more than capable. And I've heard
that you've split up on missions, leaving him to deal with the
routine while you delve into something in more detail. So I
thought that if he was around...." His voice drifted off, and
his face contorted into a smile, which showed off too many
teeth for my tastes. "I was headed in that direction anyway,
and it will only add three days to my schedule. I'm sorry to
have disturbed you, Qui-Gon."
"You didn't disturb me, Tallic. I was simply lost in other
thoughts."
"Ah, in that case," he clapped his long-fingered hand on my
arm, "live in the moment, Master."
Obi-Wan's words from Tallic's body. The Force was mocking me.
I shook my head as he scampered away. There was just something
about Tallic; he always seemed to push the edges of propriety.
It wasn't unknown for a Master to ask an older Padawan to take
on a low-risk assignment, thus freeing the Master to work on
other matters, but that was usually a matter left to the
Council's discretion.
Or to the Master that was teaching him.
It was true, though. Obi-Wan had already acted in my stead on a
few occasions; in another year or two, he would begin taking on
low level missions for the Council. And a few years after that,
he would be knighted and on his own. He was already far more
mature than most young men his age.
Many things could happen on those missions. It was not unheard
of for someone as simple as a document courier to find himself
in the midst of a war. Usually the council screened well enough
that those incidents were few and far between, but it did
happen.
I glanced back at the new door and shuddered. Obi-Wan could end
up like Master J'anir, an old man who always seemed to mourn
what might have been. Would being with me be something Obi-Wan
mourned? Or would it be something he could warm himself with,
alone on a bitter night?
Others already saw the Jedi Obi-Wan would become in a few years
time, and they were already expecting him to take on the
missions of an older Padawan. Perhaps I was the one being
hasty, assuming that I knew Obi-Wan's mind.
Perhaps it wasn't what I thought it was at all.
I considered and thought, staring at the door to what used to
be J'anir's flat, and finally came to the conclusion that I
would mourn not being Obi-Wan's lover.
To that, the Force responded, 'Yes.'
Live in the moment, indeed. I turned and walked back to our
apartment, my pace much brighter than before.
He was waiting for me when I arrived. I was barely inside the
door before he came out of his room and met me in the hall;
this time he was fully clothed, but still barefoot.
"Master, I am sorry for my behavior earlier. It was forward and
impolite." He bowed formally, keeping his distance from me, the
very picture of a perfectly contrite Padawan.
"Obi-Wan...." I had no idea where to begin, but I knew I didn't
want a perfectly contrite Padawan at the moment. Something akin
to what he'd been wearing -- or not wearing -- earlier was more
on my mind. And to that end, I needed to make him feel
comfortable. I removed my outer robe and hung it up in the
hall. "There is no need to apologize. You were honest. I took
no offense."
"No?" The anxiety I'd seen when I'd entered melted out of him,
his relief evident in his more relaxed stance, but still too
formal for my tastes. Obi-Wan watched as I carefully took off
my boots and set them next to his. "Then what happened?"
"I decided you were right. It is time to live in the moment."
Amusement sparkled in his eyes; Obi-Wan was grinning now. "And
which moment would that be? The moment before or after the
kiss?"
"The moment before." I tilted my head and looked down at him,
letting him see the desire I kept veiled within me.
He shivered, staring at me, as if he had discovered a need of
his own.
Feral, his hunger written in the lines of his body, Obi-Wan
stalked me. His lean grace tore into my body, rending it,
leaving me open and bleeding, dying from a painful, unsatisfied
thirst. I leaned back against the wall to hide my inadvertent
trembling and waited, letting him take control. He threaded his
hands into my hair and wrapped his fingers around the back of
my neck, pulling me down against his lips.
"Kiss me," he said again, his lips brushing mine as he softly
spoke.
I didn't think to resist.
Our lips met and parted, and I flicked my tongue across
Obi-Wan's mouth; he did the same to mine, mirroring my
movements. I exhaled slowly, Obi-Wan breathing in, setting up a
rhythm between us. Languid and lazy, we fed each other kisses,
exploring each other in lush detail. Heady, like strong wine, I
could feel the passion building with in me, could feel it as
Obi-Wan grew aroused.
There was nothing unusual in the way he smelled, his hair
neither more thick nor more fine than anyone else's. His body
felt firm and strong in my arms, but not so defined that it
drew notice. In all things, he seemed ordinary.
Yet he was not. I was consumed by an abnormal hunger for him, a
limitless passion that most pulsed with Force life. I could not
stop devouring him, my hands clutching his body, molding it to
mine, as if I could force him closer. He was panting now, his
breath harsh in my ear, the press of his groin against my thigh
proof of his desire. I nipped at his earlobe and the base of
his neck; he thrust hard against me, as if he could find a
foothold somehow and climb me, reaching for some nexus that
centered at my groin.
Through it all, Obi-Wan whispered to me, words not appropriate
to our normal conversation. I had dreamed of him saying those
things, and each word he spoke was like a gust of air against a
flame, making my desire flicker and re-kindle itself to a
brighter heat.
My neck reminded me that I'd been curved in one position for
far too long, my back braced against the wall, Obi-Wan pressed
hard against me. I pressed back, levering myself away from my
position, and realized how unsteady I felt on my feet.
Obi-Wan looked dazed, as if his brain had not yet processed
that I'd moved. His lips were swollen with kisses, and at the
dip of his throat I could see a small mark just beginning to
bruise. "Come here," I said, sliding my hand into his. "The
couch is close and not so hard."
His grip was strong, and his voice wicked with desire. "I like
it hard." He tugged me to him, leading me to the couch, his
words an almost incomprehensible language to me. "I like it
hard and fast, and I like it slow."
Dazed by the hunger in his words, I hit the edge of the couch
as I passed, and the sting broke though the fog in my mind.
Obi-Wan's words were clear now, his tone low and demanding as
his hands worked the fastening of my sash.
"I like it wet, too, slick from your mouth -- or whatever's at
hand."
Released, the cloth fell to the floor as I gripped Obi-Wan's
shoulder and kissed him, not the soft, decadent kisses of the
entryway, but hard kisses, demanding response.
I think I surprised him, as if he had not expected me to move.
I heard him groan and sigh, his hands sliding up my shirt,
stroking bare skin, teasing me, as his words stroked my need.
"I want to feel you, I want to eat you." He paused as he got
the tunic off and his gaze met mine, locking together with the
power of a light saber. "I want to do you."
Fire ignited through me at the thought, the image of Obi-Wan
thrusting into me searing the synapses of my nerves, branding
me with desire. No less powerful was a whipcord reaction to
that thought, the image of Obi-Wan beneath me, moaning as I
thrust into him.
I had no time for pleasantries anymore. "Strip," I demanded,
nearly growling the word in my lust.
Obi-Wan's eyes grew wide and dark as he hastily unfastened his
sash and tugged his own shirt off.
I stepped forward and cupped my hand under his chin, tilting it
up. "You wanted it hard, Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master." He swallowed once, his eyes never leaving mine.
"And wet."
"Yes."
"Then I want you to make sure it's very, very wet." I kissed
him and rubbed my thumb across his slightly parted lips.
"Kneel."
I don't think he'd ever been that obedient in his life. I
laughed, startled at the sound in the room.
Obi-Wan looked up at me, a wicked light in his eyes. "Taking
advantage of me?" He reached out and tugged on the fastenings
of my leggings, ignoring them utterly as the cloth slid to the
floor, my erection revealed. "Fine by me, " he whispered,
reaching up to pull me in tight, taking my cock down his
throat.
I threw my head back and groaned, my fingers reflexively
grabbing onto his head, and Obi-Wan eagerly swallowed me, his
mouth sliding over my shaft, his tongue dancing across the
underside and swirling around the tip. He played with me as if
I were some cherished toy he'd re-discovered, guttural sounds
of pleasure issuing from behind his closed lips.
I glanced down at his face once while I fucked his mouth and
saw how intent he was, his eyes half-slitted with delight.
Force, I'm not sure who was enjoying it more at that moment,
Obi-Wan or myself. I moaned and thrust, and Obi-Wan let me,
relaxing into it as I stroked into him. I was vaguely aware of
his hands fumbling with the fastening to his own leggings,
freeing his own cock so he could stroke it.
As his movements grew more obvious, I realized this wasn't
quite how I wanted it, and I forced myself to slow down and
pull back. Obi-Wan looked dazed, his mouth swollen and red; I
leaned over and kissed him, tasting some of my own fluids on
his lips.
The couch was behind me, so I eased myself down on it and
pulled him into my lap. "You wanted to fuck me," I said,
noticing as sanity returned to his eyes, watching as it was
driven away again at my words.
"Maybe later," he mumbled, stripping off his pants and
straddling me like he had earlier. "I think this would be much
better for now." He held my cock in one hand and positioned
himself so I could feel myself pressing against his entrance.
"Obi-Wan--" I gasped.
"It's okay," he said, sighing as I felt myself pushing against
the ring. "This isn't...." he swallowed and visibly forced
himself to relax, "...new!" he gasped as I breached the barrier
and drove into him.
I felt a flare of unreasoned jealousy at his words and quickly
released it into the Force, my body interested in other, more
important things. He was right, I was wet enough, and he was
relaxed enough, and Oh, Force, I didn't think anything could
feel better than this.
Complex reasoning failed, and all I could do was thrust, my
arms wrapped around him, taking his weight as much as I could,
bracing us both as we lunged and shook and rubbed against each
other, matching each other passion for passion, seeking a
mutual oblivion.
I don't think I was ever more aware of him than I was at that
moment, our bodies intertwined with each other's, my attention
locked on Obi-Wan and his on me. For one single instant, it was
as if we shared a single mind, a single set of thoughts. And
instead of oblivion, I became intimately aware of who I was,
not only as myself, but as someone important to Obi-Wan.
That connection was a priceless gift, even though it lasted an
instant.
I think I fell first, the shudders reverberating in me as I
spilled into Obi-Wan, but I had not yet completely reconnected
with my body before I felt him splash across my chest, his
small cry of delight like an electric charge across me.
Fumbling, I pulled him around so I could wrap my arms around
him and hold him as he shook, trying to keep some measure of
closeness between us.
We'd spent years in each other's company, working through a
hundred crises, and selfishly, I didn't want to let go. I
stroked his hair as he leaned down on me, sweaty and sticky
from our exertions. I could feel his heart pounding through his
chest, felt the tickle of his breath against my neck.
I could not freeze this moment; I could not keep him. As a
Jedi, it was my responsibility to let go. I released my grip,
giving both of us a little room, chilling where the air spilled
between our damp skins. I looked at him, felt the sweat running
down my face and plastering my hair across my brow; Obi-Wan's
braid was frayed and falling apart. It felt awkward to be human
again, to be separate and within my own body. It had all
happened so quickly. I had no words to fill the silence between
us. "Well...."
"Yes," he said, panting slightly, "well."
He was as lost for words as I was. Our gaze locked. He smiled,
and I mirrored it, then he laughed and collapsed across my
chest, moving such that I felt myself slide out from within
him. "So, what happens now?" he asked softly, not looking at
me, his fingers gently stroking my arm as if something we
shared would shatter if we moved too fast or too hard. "I never
thought about--"
"What would happen next?" I answered, stroking his hair.
"Neither did I." I could feel my eyes crinkle as I smiled at
the irony. "I lived in the moment."
"Is it that much of a problem?"
"Perhaps."
He snuggled in closer to me. "What is the proper procedure for
something like this? Must we report it to the Council?" He
kissed the hollow at the base of my neck, licking away the
salt. "I'm assuming that something like this has happened at
least once in the history of the order."
I thought back a moment, sifting through my own experiences and
what I knew of the written history of the Jedi --and the
unwritten history, which was a hobby of mine. "It has, many
times."
"So there's nothing to worry about."
"Not officially, no. There is nothing that forbids a Master
from lying with his Padawan."
"What about a Padawan with his Master?"
"I don't think they ever considered that possibility. It would
be the Master's duty to resist." I shifted him so his weight
wasn't pressing so hard against my chest, making it easier to
breathe. "In the beginning, such relationships were encouraged,
as a way of releasing tension. During the war with the Sith,
however, such pairings were discouraged, and Masters and
Padawans separated for fear that the emotional connection would
lead them to the dark side."
"Will we be separated?"
I kissed his ear. "I don't believe so. The end of the Sith wars
wrought many changes in the order. Today we are more concerned
with possible abuse." I leaned my head on his shoulder so I
could whisper in his ear, delighting in the shiver it produced.
"Have you been abused?"
"Not as much as I would like." I could feel the smile as he
said it, and he arched his neck so I could kiss it.
I shook my head. "You will be the death of me, you know."
Nevertheless, I kissed him, enjoying the feel of his skin as I
nipped gently at it.
"You just need more practice." The humor in his voice melted,
and the brash young man I'd been holding seemed to fold in on
himself. He turned away, not looking at me, and I wondered what
he was thinking. "Would you...spend the night with me?" he
whispered.
The question obviously meant more to him than I'd assumed; he
was not talking about friendship or companionship any longer. I
answered as serenely as I could, given that I wanted to shout
with joy. "I would be honored."
Obi-Wan looked at me then, his eyes filled with the need for
reassurance, his words tumbling out of his mouth in haste. "I
am still your Padawan."
"Always." I said, stroking my hand across his cheek,
reconnecting us. "You will always be mine."
I kissed him then, and we each rolled off the couch and picked
up our clothes, moving in harmony together. I stopped to rinse
the teapot and put it away, while Obi-Wan put away the clean
cups and the tea. Working together felt so right, I had to stop
and experience the moment, so good, so sweet. I could feel the
magic around us again, and this time, I could feel the threads
of Force running through it.
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