Waiting for the Shoe to Fall

by RavenD (ravendreams@earthlink.net)

Archive: m_a, World of Pretty Boys, everyone else pls. ask

Author's webpage: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams

Category: POV

Rating: R

Warnings: None

Spoilers: none

Summary: Obi-Wan waits and worries

Feedback: Pretty please, with sugar on top?

Disclaimers: The almighty Lucas owns everything. I own nothing. Happy?

I have been waiting all day for the other shoe to fall. I knew from the moment we boarded that transport and we left Coruscant's sparkling, busy skies.

I knew you were not coming home.

I will not warn you; you will simply frown and remind me to focus on the now. You do not understand my connection to the present.

You never will.

We fought about the boy. We fought at the Temple; we fought on the ship. I finally gave up, you were sure of his path, and, I admit, the Force does not bar it.

When we fucked -- which is what we did -- I tried to remember all of it. No sweet, gentle pleasure for us -- you were furious, livid and full of passion and burning to dispel the excess energy. I was desperate to feel you -- your hands, your mouth, your cock. Our time is slipping away and I need enough to hold me, to fill me. I need you deep enough within that I would never be alone.

You are sleeping now. I can see a mark on your hip where I bit you. You look sated, relaxed. You cannot feel the Darkness which is coming for us.

Master Yoda told me once that the curse of my connections with the future was the fact that I had a responsibility to accept what I saw, what I felt. My focus must remain true to the fact that the future is not set and to move against the Force is an abomination.

How can the Force mean for me to watch you burn, body cracking, blackening, falling to ashes before my eyes? Why can I not keep you here, locked within this room, safe from that which will best you?

So close, the danger is so close. I can feel it vibrating in my teeth. You do not know. If you knew, you would not listen. You will not hear the dark melodies of tomorrow.

Your eyes open suddenly. "Live now, Obi-Wan. Tomorrow will be here soon enough."

Oh, too soon. Too soon.

I crawl into bed beside you, curling into your warmth, learning your scent, capturing it like oil. I would give all that I am right now so that tomorrow I need not sacrifice all that I have.

Every time I close my eyes, I see flames.

"Padawan?" Your face is concerned and open. I want to speak, I do. I want to beg you to stay and not leave me, not yet. Force forgive me, I am sure you would not listen and I do not want to see you smile at me and stroke my hair as if I were a boy.

I do not want our last night to be about Anakin.

"I'm thinking, Master. Just thinking."

Your laughter, low and full of desire makes crystals form in the pit of my stomach. "My thoughtful padawan," you tease. "Is there something I can do to ease your mind?"

"You can try, Master." I can tell I have pleased you, but also that you sense my unease. You touch me with lips and hands and mind and suddenly it is so much more than fucking.

As you shudder beside me, lapping at the damp skin on my neck, you whisper, "Do not mourn me until I am well and truly gone, Obi-Wan. Be here with me."

Your voice is rough and your eyes soft with sex and sleep. I try to believe that I can sleep.

I spend my last night with my master, listening to him breathe, waiting for the other shoe to fall.