Title: A Matter of Custom
Obi Wan fidgeted uncomfortably. “Why do I have to wear this thing again?” You give an exasperated sigh. “It’s a local custom, Obi.” “It doesn’t feel right. I’ve never worn a skirt before.” “It’s a kilt, Obi. That makes it okay. Besides,” you mutter into his ear as he opens his mouth to complain again. “There are advantages to it.” He turns to you and raises an eyebrow. “Like what?” You give him a suggestive grin. “Accessibility.” He returns the grin and pulls you close to him. “Why not experiment now?” His breath is hot in your ear, and his Padawan braid tickles the skin on your neck. You manage to squirm away. “Not now, dear one. We’re expected out there. Later.” He gives a sigh at your words, and nods reluctantly. * * * * * An hour later, you two are sitting next to each other at the negotiations table. At least, it’s supposed to be a negotiation. It has turned into an excuse for long-winded politicians to make speeches. You sigh and shift impatiently, when an idea comes to mind. You stifle the grin that tries to form. Almost absently, you allow one hand to drift underneath the table until it encounters Obi’s thigh. You rest your hand there, just above the knee, and begin to massage your way slowly up his inner thigh. When your hand brushes his soft skin, Obi clears his throat and shifts, obviously trying to keep his composure. As your hand moves further up towards the hemline of his kilt, he abruptly grabs your hand, stilling it. You mentally send him a disappointed pout. Stop that, his voice says in your head. We’re supposed to be paying attention. I’m bored, you protest. Besides, I thought you wanted to experiment. You make your mental voice lift with innuendo on the last. He growls into your mind, and you can sense his growing arousal. Minx, he growls, his voice deep enough to make you shiver. You sit bolt upright as you suddenly feel a phantom tongue licking up your neck. You barely suppress a moan. As soon as this negotiation is over… his voice trails off and you can sense the repressed mischief. You send him the mental equivalent of an evil grin. Your hand wiggles out of his, and you resume your caresses, before he grabs you again. Now stop that! With this damned thing on, any stimulation will be all too evident. You give a sigh and a slight nod. He’s right, damn him. And you were so looking forward to sneaking your hand inside that kilt… you suddenly realize that he hasn’t released you hand, and still holds it near enough to his groin that you can feel the heat coming off of it. You experimentally try to pull your hand back, only to be met by a tightening of his hand and a mental growl. Baby, you start, much as I’m enjoying this, you’ll never relax enough to stand up with my hand right there. He sighs, gives your fingers a last squeeze, then releases you. You sit through the rest of the ‘negotiations’ with a feeling akin to triumph as you feel the frustration and arousal next to you. * * * * * When the negotiations finally end for the night, Obi escorts you to your shared room, one hand resting on the small of your back. You remain quiet, never touching him all the way to the elevator. You note with relief as the lift doors open that it is empty; perfect. Never looking over at him, you innocently slip your hand inside his kilt, quickly finding his organ and caressing it. A low rumble slips out of his mouth, and he fidgets a bit. After a moment, he pushes your hand away from him, but grabs you and pulls you against him. “Can’t you even wait until we get to the room?” He is panting, and his arousal is clear in his tone. You try to slip your hand back under his kilt, but he slams you up against the wall and pins you there with his body. His hands clasp your wrists and pin them over your head. You give him the most innocent look you can manage as he stands there for a moment, panting and staring at you. Finally, you open your mouth to protest your innocence, and he attacks. Before you can get out so much as a squeak, his lips seal around yours. He takes advantage of your open mouth and immediately snakes his tongue inside, ruthlessly exploring and tasting every inch of you. He draws your tongue into his mouth and sucks on it until you moan. Your hands jerk where they remain trapped, trying to bury themselves in his hair. He releases your hands then, letting his hands stroke slowly down your arms and sides, tickling slightly until the reach your hips. His hands stop their slow caress there, grasp your hips, and grind you into his groin. Already, you can feel his arousal through the kilt. You give a breathless moan of excitement around his mouth and tongue, which he counters with a growl. Freed of their restraints, your hands drop down and tangle in his hair, pulling him further into the kiss. You lift your knee to rub the inside of your leg against the outside of his. He grabs your knee and pulls you closer into him… and you both jump and break away from each other as the elevator dings that you’ve reached your floor. You clear your throat and straighten your clothes, and the elevator doors swing open to a blessedly empty landing. You two make it all the way to your room without incident. You pause when you reach the door, and fish around in your pocket for the key…just as Obi walks into you from behind. His hands go reflexively to your hips to keep you from falling as you stumble forward a half step, and pull you back against him. You feel yourself growing warmer as his hard arousal pokes into your rear. He gives a muted growl and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You gasp for breath and your hand fumbles in your pocket until it finds the key. Your hand shakes, and it takes you several tries before you get the key in the lock, and open the door. Obi wraps his arms around your waist, pinning you against his body, and slowly moves you both forward into the room. As soon as the door closes behind you, you find yourself abruptly stumbling backwards until Obi’s back hits the wall. You squirm against him and he makes pleased suckling noises against your neck. At last, in frustration, you sneak one hand behind you, slide it underneath his kilt, and grasp his hard organ in one hand. He gasps against you neck, then moans as you gently squeeze. One finger rubs lightly up and down. His hips make tiny thrusts as you stroke him harder and harder. His grip on you loosens, and you spin around to face him and nuzzle his neck. He is leaning back against the door, his eyes half closed in rapture. You place a kiss in the hollow of his neck, then abruptly stop your caresses. His eyes snap open, and he manages a strangled, “Wha-” before you slide down his body and gently lick up his length. He groans loudly, and his hands tangle in your hair. You take just his tip into your mouth and suck on it until he whimpers in protest. His hands bury themselves in your hair, and clench convulsively as they gently push you forward. “Please, love…” he gasps hoarsely, “your mouth.” He groans loudly as you continue to tease him, then yelps as you abruptly suck his whole length into your mouth. You rub your tongue along his underside as you suck him harder and faster. You can tell he is getting close as his groans turn into growls. “Ah, stop.” His hands try to pull you off of him. You growl and continue to suck him. His hands clench in your hair, and his next words sound more like pleas. “Love, stop!” And he abruptly manages to pull you off of him. His shaking arms pull you up and pin you against his chest. His mouth comes crashing down on yours, and he kisses you desperately. You grind your hips gently into his, feeling his hard arousal poking you, until he breaks from your lips, spins you around, and slams you against the wall. He is panting, and his eyes are wild as he stares at you. “I said stop.” His voice is deep with arousal. You give him a pout. “I want to make you come!” You protest. He leans forward and kisses you again, this time gently. “Oh, baby,” he says against your lips. “You will. But I don’t want to come in your mouth.” His head moves down to nuzzle against the side of your neck, and his hands slide down to grasp your hips. “Would you permit me?” His voice is soft, and slightly muffled by it’s proximity to your neck. You whimper softly and close your eyes. “Yes, Obi, please,” you gasp. You can feel him smile against your neck. “My pleasure, love.” His hands tighten, and he lifts you slightly in the air. You can feel his hardness just outside of your entrance, teasing, but he is too aroused to do this for long. After a brief moment, he thrusts himself inside of you, groaning loudly and burying his face in the side of your neck. He stays still for a moment, not moving inside of you until you wiggle your hips and murmur in protest. Then, he begins. Your head bangs against the door and his lips attach themselves to your neck. You whimper steadily as his hard length grows inside of you. He is so close already, close enough to come, but he holds himself back. One hand slides down to play with your clit until you can barely see. “Come for me, baby,” he pleas in your ear. Sometime during the fun, his braid has fallen down your shirt, and is pressed up against one nipple. Somewhere between his caresses with hand and braid and organ, you feel the distant contractions beginning, and you scream as you come violently, thrashing against him as he roars in your ear, and explodes inside of you. The earth-shattering orgasms milk each other on far past when it should have ended, until at last, you two slump down to the floor in a tangled pile. He pants against your ear, and neither of you speak for a few moments. Every few moments, Obi jerks slightly inside of you with aftershocks. After a little while, he gently kisses your ear, scoops you into his arms, and carries you off to bed. The End
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