Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/
Category: PWP, First Time, POV
Rating: NC17
Warnings: This is a smutlet.
Pairing: Q/O
Spoilers: none
Summary: A dream, a voyeur, two Jedi and one bed. You do the
math. :)
Notes: I am taking a break from the unbelievably long, angsty
WiP. I wanted to play. Ergo, I wrote smut. This wasn't beta-ed.
All mistakes are mine. Typos are the will of the Force and are
therefore not subject to review.
Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.
Disclaimers: I have some honey in the kitchen. Lucas owns
everything else.
He's sleeping. One arm thrown up over his head, sheets puddled
at his hips. His breathing is slow, steady, muscles bunching
and relaxing. A I stand here in the doorway, watching him
sleep, I wonder if he knows how erotic he is, without trying,
full of his own peculiar grace.
I have wanted him for months. I can't remember when it started,
why one day I looked at him and felt desire slam into me. I
don't even really care. All that matters now is this constant
undeniable burning in my soul.
I watch him. I watch him walk. I watch him fight. I watch him
moving purposefully through his life. I'm beginning to think
that I also watch him watching me. Every night I stop and watch
him sleeping. I assure myself that it's safe, as I adore him
from the doorway. I practice my finer Force skills by gently
touching a small piece of his exposed skin.
There is a scar underneath his left nipple, a crescent- shaped
scar that he received stepping through a simple bar fight
between a Wookie and a grouchy smuggler four quarters ago. I
smile, seeing it. No one else knows it's there, that tiny scar.
Just me. He has had no lovers, no illicit stress-releasing
bouts of impersonal sex, nothing but his own hand pleasuring
himself while my ears and soul were enthralled.
I watch him.
His legs begin to move underneath the sheets and, as the
material pulls tight, I see the outline of his erection, full
and hard. I bite my moan back behind my teeth, along with the
need to touch, to stroke, to take.
I should go back to my room as I do every night. I shouldn't be
here. If he wakes up, I'll never be able to explain myself. I
begin to back out door when he drops one hand down and rubs his
hardness. The sheet follows his hand and his cock is freed,
dark and thick. As I watch, a drop of wetness appears at the
tip.
Knowing I should not, I reach out with the Force and gently
stroke that which I so desire to touch, root to tip. His hips
move, undulating as he stretches out his upper body.
I tighten my Force grip, rippling up and down his shaft,
stroking steadily. His nipples tighten; his breath quickens.
Carefully, I slide the sheet down over his legs, needing to see
all of his body.
As I continue, a soft moan begins deep in his chest. I take one
silent step into the room and then another. I can smell him.
Oh, Force, help me. I can smell him.
I breathe deeply, imagining the essence of him filling me,
living crouched with the cells of my body.
I know I must be panting loudly. I know he might open his eyes
and then my secret voyeurism would be known. My hands clench
and my bare toes curl into the soft carpet as I continue my
phantom stroking.
His hips are jerking, pumping his cock into the air. Liquid
drips off the purple head of his phallus, pooling on his
stomach. He is close to the edge. Then I hear it, that sound
that shatters my hard-won control, making me shake with desire.
My name.
He says my name in that long, low groan. 'I' am the image that
quicksilver mind is picturing while his body is being caressed.
He is dreaming of me.
Without delay, I strip off the robe I had thrown on for the
trip from the 'fresher to what has become my nightly ritual of
stop, stare, stroke and leave. Without warning, I climb on the
bed, gently lapping once at the pool on his muscled belly
before swallowing his hardness to the root.
With a shout, his hips thrust and his hands pull on my head,
curling around my ears. I hear his moans, taste the salty
bitterness of his seed. I work his cock, running my tongue over
the head, probing the slit before again taking him in fully.
"Oh, please… please… don't…"
I slow and look up at him. His eyes look so young, staring down
at me in the darkness. His mouth is open, panting and he looks
startled, gently bewildered. I quirk my eyebrow, questioning.
He smiles tremulously, still half-dreaming.
"Please… don't stop. Feels so good. Oh, Force! You feel
so good."
I reward him with my mouth, sucking hard and deep. I feel his
warm hands, curled around my ears, caressing. I relax my throat
and slip my hands around his hips, encouraging his thrusts. I
massage him with my tongue until I feel him tense and he fills
my mouth.
I rise up above him, allowing myself the luxury of rubbing my
face along his torso. I trace that tiny scar with my tongue.
"My scar," I mouth against it. "Mine." His nipples tempt me,
stiff, pointed nubs to lick, but I want his mouth.
I keep my eyes open when I kiss him for the first time, staring
into him as I share his taste. I have never been kissed, not
like this. Never felt this all-encompassing passion that is
more important than breath. And his eyes… I have never
been this close to these windows. I am lost within him. Our
tongues duel, as do our eyes. Finally, conceding, his eyes
drift shut and his body arches into mine. Still, I watch.
I grind my groin into him as I learn the terrain of his mouth .
I feel his hands, stroking my back, caressing my face, while my
hands are still cradling his head.
I break off the kiss and lick my way to his ear. "I want you. I
want to take you, make you mine."
His body stills for a moment beneath me and then his lips brush
against my ear and his hips stroke against me. "Yesss," he
hisses.
I start to get up, to find go and find something to ease my
passage into him, when he grabs my hand. He shakes his head and
rummages around on the floor near the wall. The small bottle is
full of a sweet-smelling oil. I pour some into the cup of my
palm, warming it.
I dip one finger, covering it, and reach behind his sac,
probing gently. He moans quietly, bucking against my finger. I
slip my finger inside his hot, tight passage. Just imagining
myself thrusting into him causes me to shiver.
I add a finger and he grinds his hips onto my hand. A deep
growl claws its way out of his throat and I look up, his eyes
capturing mine.
"Now," he demands. "I need you inside me."
I raise an eyebrow and thrust my fingers in deeper, massaging
his prostate. I watch his face as his eyelids lower and his
breath gusts in time with my thrusts. I begin to vary my
thrusts, first shallow, then deep, causing him to buck and
grasp my upper arms.
"Damnit, I'm no scared virgin. Quit teasing and make love to
me!" His voice is thick with passion and desire, honey running
through river stones. The demand in his voice is irresistible.
Impatient now, I quickly slick my erection as he turns onto his
stomach. I spread his buttocks, enjoying the look of my hands
his smooth flesh. Slowly, I slide into him.
I close my eyes against the intensity. I can feel his muscles
fluttering around me, adjusting to me. His moans mingle with
mine. I can't even remember how long I've waited for this. I
lean across his back, stroking down his arms, kissing a
shoulder. I am complete.
I feel his mind as it reaches for me, drawing me deeper into
him, through him. My skin feels electrified, my thrusts full of
a power that I have not conceived.
I need to see his face, his eyes. I pull out of him and reach
for his hips.
"What? Don't…"
"Shh… please. I want… I need to see your face. I
want to watch you."
When he turns, his smile warms me. He raises his legs onto his
chest and grabs them behind the knees.
"So trusting. So open." I whisper as I stroke his thigh and
move to him.
"Only for you. Only you."
His eyes hold me as I slide in with a gentle push.
Together we move, my hand caressing his weeping cock, his hands
scrabbling against the sheets. I lean down into him, never
releasing his eyes, and we kiss.
Our minds embrace as our bodies rock together. I cannot tell if
the moans and whimpers come from one or both of us.
//I love you. Force, help me. I love you.// His voice fills my
consciousness. The words rush through me, echoing inside my
head. His eyes shine with emotions as he spends himself into my
hand.
//Love you. Love you, Master.// I send to him, as my orgasm
hits. I am lost, pouring myself within him. //Master!//
When I catch my breath, his is stroking my hair, gently kissing
my temple, my ear.
"Obi-Wan… my Obi-Wan…"
"Yours, Master."
"Shh… Padawan mine. Sleep."
"Sleep? But…"
"Tomorrow. For now, sleep."
//I love you, Master.//
//As I love you, Obi-Wan.//
"Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?"
"Are you… " I don't know what to say that won't sound
childish or scared. I want to know if he's disappointed, if
he's angry, if he's…
A warm chuckle fills my mind and the room. I can feel his
happiness surrounding me. I relax in his arms, and drift into a
light doze.
"Sleep, Padawan," I hear him whisper. Then, with a bright
mental laugh, I feel a whisper of the Force slide along the
cleft of my buttocks, probing insistently. "In the morning we
will talk further."
//Until then, Obi-Wan, I think I'll just watch you.//
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