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Archive - M_A Archive and my site http://www.hawksong.com/laura/
Category - O/B
Rating - PG
Warnings - none
Spoilers - none
Disclaimer - These boys are mine only in my dreams, my bookshelf, and in my DVD player. They belong completely to King George of Lucas, in a galaxy far, far away. Money is no object, for none exists in my wallet.
Summary – Two men hide their love.
Feedback - Is a wonderful treasure and may be put in my treasure chest via Padawan_laura@yahoo.com
Notes – This was written for Jedi Rita for her thirty-somethingsomething birthday, February 2005.
Unbetaed, any mistakes mine.
At opposite ends of the room, two men spoke politely with those who wished to be near them, chatting about the weather, the party, the guests.
However, they pointedly did not look at or discuss each other. Strangers they acted, so strangers they were.
Dusk grew to darkness, draperies were drawn. Wine flowed freely and tongues loosened more. Dancing gave way to furtive gropes behind the long curtains, rich desserts crushed into velvet gowns.
One by one, or two by two, guests faded out the double doors, until a gentle peek out one covered window revealed a pinking dawn.
Bail sent the last servant out, excusing her from the mess until the morrow. Slicing into a chocolate cake, he carried the dessert plate casually across the room, waving the fork in rhythm to earlier music now playing only in his head.
"Bite?" he asked. "I've had three pieces already. It's quite sinful."
The man at the window smiled, and opened his mouth for the offering, pink tongue darting out to capture a crumb hanging from his mustache.
Bail replaced the fork with his lips, pressing his body to Obi-Wan's, and in the cold dawn light, they were strangers no more.
~end~