Title: One Touch
Category: Angst, First-Time, POV.
Archive: O/A, anyone else ask
Notes: see, i'm still writing! big hugs to Silk who keeps me up at all hours to indulge in wonderful imagery. dedicated to the readers who are so patiently (or not so patiently) waiting for Engima. i apologize for the long delay-neither you nor the fic have been forgotten.
Technical note: since i can't seem to figure out the codes for myself: *...* denotes italics.
I know what they say about me. I don't care. None of them could even comprehend what they're missing out on. Even if I never say a word, it'll have been worth it. But *Force*, what I wouldn't give for just the chance to...
It's become a time honored tradition. Ever since I was ten, and needed to chase away the bad man in my dreams, I'd slip into his bed and he'd pull me into his arms with a gentle smile. As the years flew by and my control increased, I needed night time comfort less and less.
But I never actually stopped going. And Obi-Wan never said a word.
I've learned to lock away the dreams, shove them as far away from my conscious mind as possible, and keep tight my shielding even in sleep. It worked for a while. I was able to go weeks, sometimes even a month or two without a nightmare. But the reprieve has a price. Because no matter how much I study or focus or train or *will* the images to go away, they always break through. And the longer I hold out, the more...graphic, real, terrifying...the visions. Sometimesthe only link I have to sanity is the radiant warmth of Master; a strong, calm, tender presence in my mind.
In his arms is even better.
It's a joke to them. A perfectly natural adolescent reaction, chemically induced by physical maturation in every species. Unavoidable despite our training. Of course it's natural to be attracted to one's master; it's almost a requirement ifyou're of compatible species. We're counseled, reminded of the Code and the reasoning behind the behavioral precepts.
No attachments. Right. Tell me another one.
We're permitted to experiment with age-mates, gain experience, and understand what our bodies are going through. But after the brief and unspoken grace period, it basically becomes an order to find other outlets for all the pent-up energy, excitement, and outright *lust* that threatens to drive us out of our sex-crazed minds. We're expected to move on.
But as I stand here in the doorway of Obi-Wan's bedroom, just thinking of the solace I know I will find in his touch, I think them all fools.
They think the restrictions are all about sex.
He looks so much younger asleep. Heavy burdens and harsh missions age his features by day, but at night, when he lets go...the crease in his brow is still present, but softened. His beard is no longer part of an imposing fašade, but misplaced; like he's simply forgotten to shave and hasn`t gotten around to it yet. I almost wish I could shave it for him, let everyone see how vibrant, passionate, *alive* he is behind the somber face. But then the memory of that beard brushing against my skin sends shivers down my spine and scorching heat between my legs.
I used to hate mornings. Now it's a race to see if I can wake before him, just to watch him, to see him relaxed and carefree. Part of me is filled with pride that I'm the only witness to theserare moments. Part of me mourns that there are so few.
He shifts in his sleep with a quiet sigh. Can he feel me standing here?
The bed sheet has twisted around his body, revealing a muscular chest lightly dusted with red-gold, and perfectly outlining powerfully built legs, which at the moment are splayed just so...
I'm amazed my control has lasted this long.
Careful not to wake him, I reach the side of the bed and slowly crawl in beside him. After years of sneaking into his bed and under the covers, he accepts my presence as easily as if I was still that ten year old boy desperately craving love and reassurance.
But I am most definitely *not* ten.
I almost lost him. Again. In the last three years we've spent about five months in the Temple. Discounting stays at the Healers ward, the longest time we've been on Coruscant has been nine daysand that was two years ago. The Council finally figured out we need more than a two day rest, though I could have lived without the price. "Fully recovered," they said. Physically, at least.
I almost lost him.
I burrow further under the covers, as close to Obi-Wan's warmth as I can be without touching him.
This is enough. It is. To have him near me, to know he trusts me even in sleep, to listen to him breathing. This is enough. The chill of the nightmare still lingers in my body and preys on my mind. This is enough. But his warm body and the promise of those strong arms is tempting and I think maybe--
Maybe...just this once...just...one touch...
I reach out and brush the hair from his face, soft silken hair caressing my fingers.
And I could stop here, pull back and go to sleep, or even leave the room to relieve the insistent pressure building up inside me with every rise and fall of his chest.
But Obi-Wan stirs. And moves closer. Leaning into the hand resting in his hair, my thumb absently stroking his brow.
A small movement that tells me so much. Instinctual, trusting and any restraint I might have possessed crumbles as my heart fills with a tenderness I didn`t think I was capable of.
My fingers press feather light touches across his face, tracing his features like a blind man blessed with a moment of clear vision. His breath warms my skin as I move ever closer, lying on my side, facing him, just short of lying in his arms. My lips ghost across his forehead and he lets a contented sigh escape him. "Ani..."
I freeze, not sure if my heart is breaking or bursting. Maybe both.The brutally suppressed longing that's been years in the making floods my senses, making my hands tremble as I continue my reverent caresses. Because now I know.
Too much. It's too much. I need him, need to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, to lose myself in him. I want to kiss him, crush my mouth against him, gently tease his lips until they part in open invitation. I want so many things...
But then he might wake up, and if he wakes he might -- Instead I lift myself up, and carefully draw back the sheet.
The light does love my master. Even the grating lights of the city outside can't diminish his beauty. Even his scars are beautiful.
He doesn't think so. Oh, the Jedi can pretend we're above vanity, pride, and all those lesser infractions listed among the crimes of emotion, but the truth is no matter how hard you disguise it, we're still vulnerable. And from the heated looks Master gets inside the Temple and out, Obi-Wan seems to be the only one not aware of his...appeal.
Which makes the feast before my eyes all the more precious.
My hand roams his chest as I catalogue every curve and shadow, feeling tight muscle underneath smooth flesh. Without thought, my mouth latches on to a nipple, licking, teasing it to hardness, and I shiver as the taste of salty skin invades my senses. I'm already painfully hard, but I want to savor every inch of Obi-Wan before I allow myself to give in to my body's demands.
I can't help but look down and flush with pride and lust when I see his body responding to me, his cock filling and rising as I draw lazy patterns across his chest with my lips. I reach down, fear of discovery and nervousness making my hand tremble slightly as I brush through coarse russet curls to touch him. His skin is hot, the feel of soft and hard is familiar, but exotic and new as I can only imagine what my gentle strokes are doing to him. Though the breathless moan is a good indication. I trace the head of his cock with my thumb, bring it to my lips, and savor the taste of him.
Seeing him, touching him, tasting him, *oh fuck*...I almost come right there, in my master's bed, still wearing sleep pants, as he lies sleeping, living an erotic dream.
I wish...I wish I could see his eyes.
I need him. *Need.*
Licking my lips in anticipation, the faintest whimper from Obi-Wan reaches my ears as my mouth closes around his cock, my tongue seeking out and tracing the sensitive veins running along the underside. So hot, so hard, so intimate...delicious. Caressing his chest with my left hand, I reach down to grind the flat of my hand against my erection, the sensation a poor substitute for the tender ministration of the hands I long for, but certainly providing enough friction to assuage the painful need that distracts me from my task.
The moment I begin to suck, pulling him into me as far as possible, is the moment I feel him break into consciousness. The bright flare of warmth, strength, and...lust, fills my mind with an easy familiarity that I can't name. Not yet. Not until I look throughhis eyes and into his heart.
I close my eyes.
He's breathing fast and shallow, a gasp when my finger brushes a nipple, a soft growl when I moan around his cock.
And then his fingers are running through my hair, soft and trembling. Before I can even think to wonder, his other hand closes around mine, stopping my teasing and pulling my hand away from his body. Obi-Wan clasps my hand in his, fingers entwined.
A whisper in my mind...*Anakin*...and pressure against my hand, hand pressing against my erection, lips and tongue pressing down on him and pulling up in mutual surrender...the moment erupts between us like an exploding star.
The universe is hazy and grey, but the warmth surrounding me is constant.
Once my body decides to respond, I pull myself up and bury my face in the crook of his neck. Obi-Wan lets go of my hand and tugs me closer. A strong grip on my chin forces me to look at him. Forces me to face my fear.
And let it go.
Because now I can see his eyes. I want to laugh and cry and dance and a thousand other things because I was right and I know. I know what they say about me. I don't care. The only thing that matters is here and now.
They think the restrictions are about sex. Fools. I've traded one fear for another, but I'll survive in the Light.
It`ll be worth it.
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