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Night Music	By : brensgrrl Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3941 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Night Music
- 1
NIGHTMUSIC
By Brensgrrl (8/23/1999)
Category: ABH (Anywhere-But-Here), Romance, Angst, Series: 2/2
Pairing: Obi-Wan/F; no TPM Spoilers--follow up to "The Yearning"
Rating: NC-17 (Romantic Smut)
Summary: The fulfilled wish of a lonely lady . . . Archiving: Anywhere with
my emailed permission--
Feedback: marajade@looknlearn.com. Very welcome, because this piece has not
been betaed ( and might be rewritten later), but flames will be used to light
the "Fire on Ice" at the rink where my daughter skates... Oh, and before you
bring it up, I know that even though this is an ABH, it's still a damned
hopeless MarySue story and that *I* of all people should know better than to
write stuff like this! Go figure. Enjoy it anyway. I know that "you" will. . . ;
>)
Disclaimer: Obi-Wan belongs to George Lucas. I wish he were mine, literally,
but he is part of the wonderful world of make believe created by Lucasfilm, Ltd.
The Ch'hala trees were cultivated by Tim Zahn Nurseries. The special appearance
of You is courtesy of "You, Unlimited, Inc." . I'm broke and only writing this
for fun, so please don't sue me. AND. . .A "tip o'the hat" to Terry McMillan.
// // Denotes thoughts and telepathy . . .
*************************

//I really should be ashamed of myself for letting temptation overtake me. I
must be crazy, absolutely insane. Or maybe I'm going through the change of life.
. .// you think as you gaze into your vanity mirror.
You never expected things to go farther than a few harmless daydreams.
Then longing answered when he asked you to give him a tour of the Grand
Gardens after the negotiations were over. Later, reality struck with a
vengeance.
You still can't believe that you did something so reckless as telling a man
twenty years younger than you that you would make love to him.
After taking an entire day to prepare, you still aren't ready. Yes, you
laughed at your maid's amatory chatter while she helped you. You smiled when she
teasingly said that the next hands on the fastener at the back of your dress and
the next fingers pulling the pins from your hair would be his. But you knew that
no amount of pretending could erase the years that were between you and the
young Jedi.
So much for your vaunted ethics! Actually planning for a tryst is immoral
isn't it? If lovemaking were sincere, it would be spontaneous, wouldn't it? And
lovers should be more than mere strangers to each other, shouldn't they? //What
could he possibly get from me that wouldn't be better had from any of the
younger ladies here?// you ask your reflection, sighing. //Maybe it's because he
has never been with a woman who is older before. Maybe he is curious. . .Maybe
he just wants to. .// You try to derail that vulgar thought. But you can't help
feeling vulgar about this. Wasn't it you, after all, that put the whole idea
into his head by ogling him across the conference table like a fool?
It's clear that you don't have the body of a twenty-year-old anymore. Your
breasts are still firm. Your waist and hips are a little fuller than in your
youth, but you are still trim, and you feel fit. Your face has changed little,
except for the tiny creases at the corners of your eyes. You turn, surveying
yourself from different angles. The dress that your maid selected looks
attractive, but it doesn't disguise the little tummy that you've gotten with
time. //Oh well! Thank goodness for night and candelight.// Still, the cover of
night won't last forever, and this affair might not bear the light of the sun.
You stare into the mirror and hope that people have been honest with you, that
you *really* don't look as if you are forty-four standard years old. You run
your fingertips over the gray streaking your temples. You don't feel forty-four.
. .and how is forty-four supposed to feel, anyway? You don't know. You only know
that his glance makes you feel sixteen again. Yes, there had been lovers before,
long ago, but this was very different.
How dull your life had become! It was supposed to be yet another round of
mineral rights negotiations that your Planet Corporation had conducted with the
Kuati over mass-driver mining operations in the planetoid belt. Then he arrived
as part of the mediation team, and you were flooded with waking dreams of grand
passion and excitement. Nothing would ever be the same again. For the first time
in your adult life, you were distracted from your work, your every stray thought
turning to wondering what his lips might taste like. . .
For a moment you let that notion linger. Other thoughts join that one and
soon you visualize yourself being held firmly in his arms, as his open mouth
skims your throat and his hands run up your spine. You gasp at the heat
blossoming within. The mere idea of him!
You've been busy with your duty to your people, so busy that you never really
noticed the passing years, the weight of the mortal coil upon you. And now this
flirtation has kindled something within you. something that had been dormant,
something that had awaited a spark to set the dying embers ablaze. You want so
very much to give in and be consumed. .
//But I will scandalize the company,// you think to yourself as your hand
brushes against the place on your neck where the imaginary kisses fell.
"Then I will become a scandal with you."
Startled, you turn to see that Obi-Wan Kenobi is leaning against the doorjamb
watching you with folded arms, and your heart skips a beat. He isn't wearing the
Jedi robes. Rather, his clothes are casual -- black trousers, boots and matching
jacket. Beneath the jacket is an open-necked marine blue shirt that enhances the
color of his eyes. Only his Padawan braid and lightsaber disclose him as Jedi.
Not only does his beauty disarm you, but the fact that he has read your lasthouthought is shocking. Or had he read any or all of the others?
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough . . ." he smiles as he crosses the room to stand in front of
you.
You feel your color rise. Why hadn't the maid announced him to you? "Where is
CeCe?"
"I took the liberty of sending her on a little errand . . ." he replies
softly, his eyes looking directly at your lips, presaging a kiss.
The thought of him joining his mouth to yours flashes across your mind,
lightening-like, palpable. His eyes close languorously, the sea blue veiled in
lashes. You seem to feel (hear?) a sensation that sends a deep thrill through
you, a pulse in the air like holo transmission feedback, only melodious, vibrant
like the echo of a pealing bell. How can you be feeling such a thing when you
aren't even touching him? Then you realize that he is picking up your thoughts
again and you turn away from him to stop your mind's rebellion against your
dignity. And then he catches your hand in his and pulls you to his side.
"Come with me." he whispers, drawing you out of the room and then out of the
house.
The approaching of sunset, the most temperate part of the day, has brought
people out for the customary evening promenade. One by one the street glowglobes
come on, and light begins to pour from windows and doorways, making the avenues
look mysterious yet serene. He and you join the strolling throngs. Though his
pace is unhurried, he is moving along the street with purpose, your hand still
in his. Occasionally, a passing person or couple turns to greet you. Some smile
as they note that you have a companion. Others try to conceal a shocked
expression, and worry grows. There will be gossip. You murmur greetings in
response, but you do not stop or turn aside as he continues to lead you along.
"Where are we going?"
"Dancing. And dinner. I found a nice place. I didn't want to tell you earlier
because I sensed that you would not go if I told you in advance."
"You're right. I wouldn't have agreed to go dancing." you respond cooly. It's
not that you can't dance--it's that you had planned a more private venue for
your time together. The casual caress of your hand in his is electrifying; you
are sure that the feeling of his hands on your body will shatter what remains of
your composure. You don't want to fall apart in public. He stops in midstride,
and his lovely eyes fix on yours as he brings the palm of the hand that he is
holding up to his lips, and kisses it gently. //Please, sweet one, trust me.//
his thought echoes reassuringly in your head. Your spirit settles a little as he
sends you calm and you resume your walk.
Finally you take a couple of turns off the square and find yourself standing
in front of an establishment called "The Firebird." The doorway glows with soft
light, and quiet music and soft voices can be heard from within.
"I hope that you like this place. My Master and I do." he possessively wraps
one arm around your waist and guides you through the entrance. The proprietor, a
rotund middle-aged man, stalks hastily toward you.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am most pleased to see you again." the owner takes his arm
in a warrior-grip, then turns toward you and bows formally. "And Madam Consul. I
am most pleased. Kenobi, will Master Qui be joining you tonight?"
"No. . .he is preoccupied with other matters at present."
"Uh. Too bad. Well! Celebrating the end of the negotiations, eh? So we have
an agreement with the Kuati?" the owner comments boisterously, looking at you.
"Yes." you respond, " For the moment, at least."
"Of course. Until the Kuat of Kuat finds another loophole to crawl into.
Whatta criminal he is, eh! But enough of this. How about a nice table.
And--everything is on the house tonight! It is a celebration, eh?"
The owner waddles his way toward a corner table where you are seated and
fussed over a little more. Then your host retreats to greet other customers and
the two of you are finally left alone with your twin glasses of wine and
steaming dishes of food. Obi begins to eat in earnest, but all you can manage to
do is push little bits of food around your plate.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes." you respond tersely.
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Hardly. But I suppose I should eat something anyway. " Your reticence is
noticed.
He laughs. "Are you changing your mind about showing me the Grand Gardens?"
"Are you sure that you want to be with me? Your options are still open. It
really won't make any difference to me. . ."
He sits back in his chair, his expression suddenly solemn. You glance away.
// Perhaps he is angry// you think. When you collect enough courage to look over
at him once again, his eyes spear yours with such want. The moment seems to
stretch into an eternity as he studies you as if he can see all the secret
places of your heart. You sense his quiet determination and serious intent about
your night together. But you should have known that he wouldn't behave like an
ordinary man in his twenties. He is, after all, Jedi. It is clear that he means
to have you, and this knowledge quickens your desire. Your longing rises to meet
his, but fear makes you try to fill the space in time with more words.
"You won't hurt my feelings if you decide that this is not for you. "
He leans over the table and takes both of your hands in his. "Ever since you
said 'yes' to me I have thought of little else except being with you." A little
chuckle softens his countenance. "I'm sure my Master wouldn't be pleased to know
it, though. And the way you kept looking at me during the conferences didn't
help. "
"But you must understand that I am beginning to think that this is
ridiculous. . .we don't know each other. Don't you think there's something
improper . . ."
"About us being lovers?" he says quietly, "No. Am I a *stranger* to you? I
think not. Anyway, we will know each other very well before the night is over."
His fingers begin to caress yours and his eyes close again for an instant, as if
he is listening to something. " The truth is that you are afraid of what people
will think. And afraid of what you will do. Well, I don't really care what
anyone thinks and I am looking forward to what you will do. Jedi fantasize too.
. . "
For an instant, your heart forgets to beat.
//And nothing is forbidden when lovers touch. I want you. . .and I know that
you want me. //
You thrill as his emotion washes over you, adding opulence to the sensation
thrumming within you, and for a moment, your entire universe is reduced to the
feeling of his fingers petting yours.
"Im old enough to be your mother. . ." you whisper.
Soft hold-me music fills the room, and a few couples take to the dance floor.
Obi-Wan rises, pulling you up by both hands.
"You aren't my mother. Let's dance."
He finds a space, and pulls you close to him, gently enfolding you in his
arms. You rest your hands on his shoulders. As you begin to sway to the music,
need claims you and you slip your arms around him. He smells so good, and he
feels so warm, and you feel so very safe that you relax, your fingers skating
caressingly across his back. The feeling is not lost on him and, sighing, he
draws you even closer. Your heat grows as you feel the play of his muscles
through his clothes, the drum of his heartbeat; and you delight in the
sensuality of his nearness. The thrum within you dissolves into frissons of
pleasure, as he looks tenderly at you, his breath warm on your face.
"You are so nice to hold. Umm, so good." he murmurs, brushing the corner of
your mouth with his lips. Your desire for his kiss is almost painful. He smiles
teasingly.
The evening wears on. .
** And then it is the first hour of the nightwatch and the dance floor is
empty except for the two of you.
"Let's go see the gardens." he whispers huskily, kissing your ear.
"But you really can't see anything this late at night."
"I can see you." another kiss, this time on the side of your neck. He is
definitely not adverse to public displays of affection. And you don't want to
test his limits.
"Please, not here, not now. . ." You bite your lower lip,stifling a groan.
"Let's go. . ."
Since "The Firebird" is near the public square, you aren't very far from
Ararat One, the Corporate Complex where the negotiations had been held. Ararat
One is adjacent to the Grand Gardens. On foot, it doesn't take you very long to
get there.
The Gardens are a public greenspace that sweeps along the littoral border of
the city. Although the townside entrance of the Gardens is gated, you could not
recall that the gates were ever closed, at least not in your lifetime. Earlier
that evening, the place would have been busy with people, couples out for a
walk, families enjoying the cool night air, beachcombers. But at this late hour,
it is deserted. At least you hope that it is. You walk slightly ahead of him,
leading the way to the fabled grove of ch'hala trees. The grove is located in
one of the farthest reaches of the Garden, bordered on one side by the wild
forest and on the other side by the sea. As you move along the darkened paths,
you are grateful for the fullness of the secondary moon, which cuts a swath of
silver light through the shadows cast by overhanging limbs.
You feel a greater sense of awareness than you ever had before. The world is
alive with the sounds of night-crooning insects, the rustle of leaves turned by
the sea breeze, the wash of the surf along the shore and your quiet footsteps.
With every step, the fears within you gently yield to the magic of the night
garden and the richness of Obi-Wan's presence. The humming within you is now a
quiet song, calming background music in your mind. Your heart suddenly fills
with wonder at the realization that the Force is indeed with you, that perhaps
you are meant to be with him.
The path wends its way downward, between the dunes, toward the beach. Beyond
the tops of the bushes gleams the trackless plain of the ocean; moonbeams
prancing on its surface like dancers. Finally you are on the beach. You make
your way just a little farther up the strand toward a thicket of trees.
Intermittent shimmering lights within the copse lets you know that you have
reached the grove. Your journey from the Garden Gateway to the grove has taken
nearly half an hour, but neither of you has spoken along the way.
"Here it is, " you gesture grandly about you. In response to the sound of
your voice, the tree trunks simultaneously burst into spirals of fluorescent red
that ripple up toward the treetops, then fade back to violet-green. He turns
about, smiling widely. "This is amazing." He comes to stand behind you, circling
your waist with his arms.
"The slightest sound excites them. During the day, children play rhythm games
here, clapping and singing to see who can get the most trees to respond at the
same time. But at night, they seem to glow. I've spent hours here on the beach
just watching them. If you just watch, they will react to the ocean sound with
waves of their own . . ."
The two of you stand for a while just watching the trees respond to the soft
lapping of the surf.
"So-- they'll respond to *any* noise . . ." His embrace tightens as he draws
you back against him. He nuzzles your hair and his hands caress the contour of
your waist.
You turn around to face him, meeting a look of amusement. And desire. //But
nothing is sweeter than the sound of making love . . .// he says into your mind
as he covers your mouth with his at last.
The reality of his warm moist lips makes you tremble, the pressure of his
kiss both sensuously gentle and demanding. You give yourself to the kiss, which
deepens as he parts your lips with his tongue, sliding it past your teeth until
it twines with yours. You kiss back with so much passion that you burn. Slowly.
To the very core of your being. He growls softly in his throat and you moan,
inhaling his breath. He breaks the kiss, his hands caressing your back, his
mouth making a slow torturous journey down your neck, and you are wild with
cravings. You want him, yes, as much as he wants you. You don't care anymore
whether it's for one night or for a million, or who knows about it. You don't
care if he takes you in the heat of his lust. You are content in the nt, nt,
enraptured in his arms.
Effortlessly he lifts you and carries you toward the sheltering sand dunes
next to the ch'hala grove. You laugh as the music within you soars toward a
crescendo.
With a few deft moves, he removes first all your clothes and then his and
both of you are finally naked and reclining side by side on the soft tussocks of
dune grass. His eyes, now dark with arousal, scan your body.
"You are so beautiful" he murmurs.
And you look at him as well, his skin glowing in the moonlight. His naked
body is so gorgeous that it takes your breath away. Lithe, powerful; capable,
you realize, of both valor in battle and the enjoyment of sybaritic pleasures.
Your gaze follows the line of honeyed hair running down his chest and belly and
comes to rest on his erection, curving upward, its head large and beautifully
formed, graceful like the rest of him. As wanton feelings swell within you, you
quake at the thought of how his engorged flesh will feel inside you.
Subconsciously, yet another vivid picture forms in your mind, you on your
hands and knees, him taking you like an animal, his hands tangling in your hair
as he pounds into you. You hear him exhale heavily and then he is on top of you,
straddling you, his manhood lying hot against your belly, his hands pinning
yours down at either side of your head. Sweet entrapment!
"And it seems that you like to tease," he growls.
You look at him querulously. "I don't understand, "
"You keep doing *that* to me, teasing me. You have been turning me inside out
all evening, and you don't even know what you are doing. . Every thought you
have, every emotion shouts into my mind. Like that last one you had." Then he
sends the vision and its emotions back to you, only it is from his point of
view, wildly erotic. Your breath catches.
//If you want me to, I *will* take you like that and in every other way
you've dreamed of // he murmurs searingly inside your head.
He stretches out the length of his body over yours and again, his mouth
covers yours in an urgent, bruising kiss. He then begins to lick, and nibble a
long wet trail from your lips our our neck, to the valley between your breasts.
His hands first cup your breasts gently and then his fingers slip around your
nipples, squeezing and messaging them to hardness, flicking and rubbing them.
Your eyes drift shut.
"No. Look at me." he whispers.
Your eyes open as his lips close around your nipple, and the sight of that
beautiful mouth on you is almost more than you can bear. Your body arches up
toward him as heat spirals through you. As his mouth continues downward, he
tells you what he is going to do to you in a husky deep whisper, the words
explicit, having to do with submission and possession. You breathe raggedly as a
rush of fluid flows from you. His tongue moves down, slowly, through the curls
on your mound. He lowers his head, and slides his tongue slowly up and down your
cleft. Suddenly, the tip of his tongue flickers against the very center of your
womanhood and you jump and sob with the sharp tantalizing sensation. It's been
so long since anyone has touched you like this.
"Easy, love" he whispers "we have plenty of time." Then he is back between
your thighs, stroking and sucking in the same deliberate pace. Your hips begin
to rock, urging him to move faster, your hardness swelling against his lips, but
he is taking it slowly, so slowly that you think that you will die. And then he
stops and looks mischievously up at you, his chin resting on your mons, his eyes
angelic. You feel his laughter bubble inside your head.
"You have some gray hairs. Shall I pull them out?"
"Brat!" you groan, thrusting your hips toward his face. "Please don't stop,
it feels so wonderful!" you beg.
He returns to lavishing attention on you, moving his tongue in and out of
you, kissing and licking and sucking until you can barely stand it. You think
that the rapture of it will make you explode. You are on the knife-edge of
climax and whimpering shamelessly. "Oh please, please. . ." The ch'hala trees
wink red in response to the sound of your cries and whispers that fill the
grove. He stops again and rises gracefully, kneeling between your legs. //Jedi
control, // you dizzily think as you consider how he can possibly stand to toy
with you for so long without wanting to sheath himself inside you. Your need is
rapacious, predatory. You ache with longing for sweet release.
//That wasn't very rhythmic. And we didn't even make all of them flash. .
.let's try for all of them now. . .// his thought echoes inside your head,
velvety soft, heavy with lust.
He turns you so that you lie on your side, and he lifts your upper leg over
his shoulder while straddling your lower leg. He slowly, teasingly rubs the head
of his erection against your crotch. The ache between your legs is intense, as
if you are coming apart at the seams, and you moan heavily.
"Ooooh, please. Please. . ."
"Louder. . .say it louder, " he demands as he continues the frottage.
"I can't stand it anymore, " you plead, "please, please. . .I'll die,"
"No you won't. . ."
Raising your hips slightly with his hands, he slips inside you sideways,
impaling you, penetrating you, slowly, so very slowly that you can feel the
pressure of his entry, the folds of your flesh absorbing first the head, then
the ridge, then the long hard length of him, every delicious inch filling you.
You want to touch him, to hold him, but in this position all you can do is
stretch you arms out in front of you and grasp the long grass. The sensation of
friction is incredible as he withdraws a little and then begins to thrust in a
circular movement that stimulates you deep inside, making you gasp and shudder.
And then he finds a tempo as he does it again and again, moving in and out, the
heaviness of him batting and rubbing between your legs, your swollen nub meeting
the base of his cock with every inward stroke. You rock your hips forward and
back, your wails of ecstasy making the trees shimmer. //Please, harder. .
.more// you beg mentally, too breathless to speak. And then the pattern of his
movement changes abruptly as he thrusts himself into you hard, hard, startlingly
intent, all finesse gone, his hips propelling yours to move faster.
A purple haze drifts before your eyes. His breath is ragged as he pounds into
you in a frenzy. Your hands claw at the dune grass as you begin to swoon.
"Gods!" he shouts, as the sensation of your emotions hits him and he pours
into you in a long orgasm that leaves him gasping for air. And then you climax,
your scream echoing through the ch'hala grove, making the trees blaze red all at
once.
Your bodies separate, but not totally, as he lies down, spooning his body to
yours, one arm draped possessively across your waist, his legs tangled with
yours, his head touching yours. For a while you rest with him, pillowed together
on the grass, watching the stars glittering above the moonlight-dappled
treetops.
Your breathing returns to normal, and you begin to fret anew. He is far more
experienced than you expected and you wonder if it was enough for him and how
you measure up to the other lovers he's had. Then he kisses the curve of your
ear, tugging lightly on it with his lips just to share another moment of
intimacy with you. Nice trouble to be in, no matter what the gossips will say.
Maybe he'll see you again. It seemed that you had taken a risk and won.
//It was enough. . .// you decide, with a smile.
//"No. I want you again.// his mind whispers to yours as he guides your hand
down to his renewing erection. A mellow, languid heat claims you and you think
that it would be nice to just keep lying there.
But you realize that it must be at least third hour of the nightwatch by now,
and it would not be good if the two of you were discovered in the Garden like
this.
"We have to go."
"Can we at least have a midnight swim first?"
"Then we'll be all wet and sandy. Besides, I have an exquisite bath at my
house."
He smiles, looming above you. "You know, you'd be much happier if you learned
to live in the moment. We can enjoy the bath later. Now it's time for a swim."
He rises and draws you up with him, pulling you toward the water.
The warm ocean laps about you as he takes you out to where the water is chest
deep. You jump up with each wave, trying to keep your hair from getting wet. And
then he does a shallow dive. He stays under for so long that you begin to worry
a little. You scan the water and call his name, turning about. Soon you feel his
fingers flickering against your waist and back, little fluttering touches that
make you flinch and giggle.
"Stop it-" hands grab your ankles and your head submerges. You come
sputtering to the surface, your makeup melting, your coiffure sagging.
//I must look like an awful mess// You begin to swim for shore, afraid for
him to see your face in such a state.
He catches up with you in the shallows, and he gathers you into his arms,
kneeling behind you in the waist-deep water.
"No, you don't look like a mess. Not yet-" he laughingly pulls the pins from
your hair, tossing them to the waves, spreading the tresses over your shoulders,
leaving the ends to float fan-like on the water. He moves to face you, pulling
you close so that you straddle his lap.
"No, you aren't a mess. Not at all. . ." he kisses your makeup-smudged face.
"You're beautiful, and I want you so much. Do you know what its like being with
you, what you make me feel?" He shifts a little, lifting your hips above his. At
the same time, he plants a spectacular image in your mind--of you, seen through
his eyes, wet, breathless, clothed in nothing except a soft blue aura tinged in
moonlight. Suddenly he lowers you, joining your bodies in a single thrust,
groaning your name as he sheathes himself inside you.
Your legs wrap around his hips as your head falls back in the water, and you
are floating weightlessly, as he thrusts into you, the stars swirling aboveglitglittering witnesses to your coupling.
****** Your journey home is an interrupted one, as you are first backed
against the trunks of various trees in the garden and then the shadowed walls of
various buildings. You quickly discover that exhibitionism in public places is
not the exclusive penchant of the young.
Once home, you notice that your maid isn't back and you can only wonder
muzzily what kind of errand Obi-Wan sent her off to attend to. No matter. That
she is not there is all for the best, you think as Obi-Wan leads you back into
your bedroom.
End
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Night Music