Closer

by SpitFire

Rating: R-ish

Spoilers: Nope.

Disclaimer: Obi-Wan belongs to George Lucas. The other one belongs to Paramount, I guess.

Warnings: PWP, crossover. It may be continued. I have no idea. Also, it has not been beta'ed! Beware!

Feedback: Constructive is good. Flames are useless.

Summary: Obi-Wan is captured, raped--not so original. The pairing, however, is unique I think. Guess. ;)

"So you're a....Jedi."

The calm, smooth voice so close to his ear made Obi-Wan jump in his bonds. The chains clinked where they held his wrists and ankles tight to the cold stone. He had not sensed his captor, so near. In fact, he could barely sense his captor at all. The whir and hum of an alien force field around him, tight as a cloak, dimmed his senses, distracted them. Obi-Wan struggled to stay calm despite the pain in his head and the disconcerting feeling of being bound and blinded, utterly at the mercy of this stranger.

"Yes." He answered flatly. "What do you want with me?"

Obi-Wan strained to sense the man's mind, to see him through the Force as Qui-Gon had taught him, but it was like trying to sense an inanimate object. The form was there, but only an outline--no echo of midichlorians from the other, such as he would feel from any living thing. This unexpected frustration threw him off balance, and he found himself sweating.

"I want to know how you do that. That...thing you did in the alley. Are you telepathic?"

The voice had shifted positions, and now Obi-Wan felt a hand--a human hand--on his throat, the index finger resting on the racing pulse. He swallowed hard, and felt his stomach coil. Telepathic? Did his captor have no knowledge of the Jedi? This thought provoked confusion, fear, and hope in Obi-Wan's mind. So, he had not been captured by the Jedi-hunters whom he'd been fighting. But who? He remembered the stunning crack to his skull, so perfectly landed that he hadn't even felt it until his vision was turning to black.

Black, as it was now. There must be no light in the room, for the cloth band around his eyes would not be able to block it all out. He arched his back against the cold stone table as a shudder raced through his bare torso.

"Not precisely." His voice was calm, despite the gnawing fear. He felt the familiar sense of the Force--his own force--settle into him, filling and soothing him. He could weather this. He would get out.

Then his captor shifted again, and the cool hands traced down Obi- Wan's chest to his bare stomach, following the midline. His skin prickled and his mouth went dry as the palm slid lower, resting against his groin.

"Psycho-kinetic then. Interesting talent, for a human." The voice was a purr, almost, as the palm began to rub, itchingly, making Obi- Wan writhe.

"I told you...I-I am a Jedi..." The pressure lifted, and Obi-Wan sucked in a breath.

"What the hell is a Jedi?"

He realized, from the sound of the voice, that his captor must be kneeling directly over him, one leg on either side of his torso. If only he could knock him off-balance...perhaps the dampening field could also be dislodged! Gathering himself as best he could, being flat on his back, Obi-Wan swung his hips to the side, full-force against his captor's left leg.

It was like hitting an iron post. He yelped, and a low, rusty chuckle emanated from the man above him.

"That's gonna leave a mark."

He was about to ask again, what his captor's intentions were, but could only make a choked noise as his hair was suddenly, roughly grabbed, and his head pulled back, exposing the throat. "Not....feeling so powerful now, are you, human?" The snarled breath brushed across his larnyx, closer than a hair's breadth. He thrashed, instinctively, imagining that his throat was about to be torn out by this madman.

The hand in his hair tightened until tears formed in Obi-Wan's masked eyes. The calm Force which had been helping him so far began to swirl and eddy again, churning in him like the sea. "Master..." he whispered, a sound not even audible, barely given breath to escape.

Another laugh, and the hand in his hair loosened its hold somewhat. "Master, eh? That's kind of kinky. Do you like it that way....Jedi?"

The word, obviously used by one who did not understand, sounded like an insult. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. "What is your purpose in bringing me here?" he snapped, forcefully. His body was tight as a lyre-string, awaiting the beginning of true pain. But he was suddenly released, and could feel the air of his captor's movement. All of the breath that he'd been holding rushed out of him and his stomach lurched.

"To study you." The low voice said, with a hint of a smile. A very twisted smile, Obi-Wan imagined. His teeth chattered faintly as cold air brushed across his bare skin. He tentatively tried again, sending a questing coil of Force outward, to brush against the man's presence. All he could sense was a faint hum, like that of a machine.

Master...help... But the link he shared with Qui-Gon was disturbed by his own fear. He directed all the Force he could at his bonds, but the dampening field made concentration nearly impossible. Whether or not he knew anything about Jedi, his captor must know quite a bit about human brainwaves. This thought was disconcerting to say the least and Obi- Wan fought down his panic.

Then something sharp and solid cracked across his belly and he momentarily lost the battle, bucking and twisting in his chains like a frightened beast. It took his mind a few seconds to realize he had not been cut, merely struck with something long and supple. Like a whip.

"What--?"

Another blow followed, and another, thudding against his tender skin, resonating sickeningly in his organs. A hissing breath was let out above him.

"Beautiful..." his captor murmured, and suddenly, slender fingers were tracing the marks of the whip. "And you didn't even scream."

Obi-Wan panted harshly, his lips parted as his chest flashed in and out with terrified breaths. "Why are you doing this?" he croaked. But there was no answer, only a mouth suddenly crushed to his, a mouth that felt human but tasted wrong. Too clean, almost, bland. The tiny electrical impulses which shot their way straight to his nerve endings, however, were not bland. He gasped at the onslaught of sensation, the tingling which translated itself into thrill as his captor's mouth sucked at his, tongue diving between Obi-Wan's lips.

Stop!

The terror of what was certain to happen was secondary to the shivering -wrongness- of it--of a touch other than Qui-Gon's, a mouth other than his Master's claiming him. And he unable to fight back.

Smooth, cool hands raced down his sleek body, prickling at his nerves, sending pulses of electrical pleasure shuddering through him. He felt himself begin to harden and fought to clamp down with all the Force he could muster. Yet, in disarray, the Force did not drown out the sensations, but almost heightened them, as Obi-Wan began to struggle in earnest.

Hands like titanium manacles clamped down on his wrists, and a body was lowered to his. He felt the smooth, surrealistically fluid movement of muscles against his belly as his captor held himself above Obi-Wan, barely touching. And try as he might, with all the physical strength in his body as well as the Force, Obi-Wan could not dislodge him.

"You will pay for this!" he hissed between clenched teeth, tears of frustration and fear wetting his blindfold.

"Oh shut up. I think you're enjoying it." The lighthearted tone of voice enraged Obi-Wan, but that strange electrical sensation raced through him, as potent as the Force, making his hairs stand on end and his organ stir with unthinking lust. A knee against his groin only made the pleasurable pain intensify, and a moan escaped his throat.

Oh Master, help me...

It was the last coherent thought Obi-Wan had, as suddenly his captor's hands moved, bringing that agonizing pleasure to his groin, stroking him with barely a touch until he was painfully hard, his breath screaming from his throat. A hard, slender body crushed against his, pressing the air from him. His arms jerked at their chains until blood ran down his wrists, trying to reach the body of his captor, to push him away, to pull him closer. The sleek muscles rolled again and some of the weight was lifted, as his captor shifted. The hands roughly tore down Obi-Wan's trousers, and effortlessly lifted his slim hips as the bound Jedi jolted upward in fear and need. He cried out.

His captor's hand was immediately at his throat, as heavy as a collar. Obi-Wan's head grew fuzzy as the hand closed, with controlled strength, putting pressure on his jugular vein. Then the man was forcing his way inside Obi-Wan with nearly unbearable pressure at the same time as his hot tongue gently licked the blood from Obi-Wan's wrists, in sickly painful counterpoint. The sensations almost drove Obi-Wan mad.

His mind seemed to scatter as his captor filled him, stretching and pushing, the sensation too shocking to be painful, yet nauseating. The mouth traveled from his wrists down to his collar bone, tongue dancing along the pulse there, the tiny electric shocks enticing his sweating skin. His hips bucked, his long body lashing more slowly against his bonds as he panted with need.

"Please..."

The word came out more as a moan than a plea, and Obi-Wan felt his face flush. Something sparked inside, something deep and secret and sickly sweet, twisting his stomach and making his body lurch. Soft breath steamed across his throat, and teeth took the place of his captor's hand, holding Obi-Wan's life lightly between them. The thrusting continued, forceful and deep, rocking them both together. His captor's body pressed more firmly against his, and Obi-Wan felt smooth, silken skin, devoid of sweat. His mind reeled aimlessly, undone by the dark pleasure of those mysterious electrical impulses, firing into his nerves.

He cried out again, and the teeth closed on his throat, cutting off the sound. A hand reached up to caress his face, gentle where the thrusts were hard and unforgiving. He turned his head and bit. There was no sound of pain from his captor, in fact, no sound at all except remarkably steady breathing. The hand tasted of nothing--no salt sweat, no blood.

"Vicious."

The word was spoken, with amusement, coupled with a particularly violent thrust that seemed to spear Obi-Wan through. It made him sick, and he released the hand to gag, trying not to vomit. Then dark pleasure exploded behind his eyes, blossoming in his groin with wet heat, and he cried.

"Oh...oh..."

His fingers curled, grasping...his mouth open and head thrown back, his bloody chest expanded with unspent breath. The shackles seared into his wrists as his entire body surged upward against the heavy weight of his captor. "Master!"

"Already, huh?" The voice taunted him, pulling his mind back from the foggy haze of orgasm, and he snarled, sick again. The body against his was as immovable as a planet. Slowly, agonizingly, the weight lifted, letting cold air wash the tingle from Obi-Wan's skin. His captor's hand trailed down his slick flesh, possessively, almost. Obi-Wan shuddered and bit back tears of rage. He tried to sink his mind in the Force, but the laugh of his captor tormented him. "You should make an interesting subject of study, whatever you are."

His captor patted him, on the belly, as one would a beast after one has dismounted. Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder. As his captor's bootsteps echoed away across the room, he called on all his strength. His body shivered and spasmed uncontrollably, cold and sick, and to his shame, still half-aroused. He tried to bury all such sensations as he slipped into a defensive meditation. Anger sparkled in his mind. The next time his captor came, he would be ready.