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Author: Helens and Emma Grant
Summary: [2.02] Obi has an interesting proposition for Bail, and Bail has a number of observations and decisions to make.
Disclaimer: (Most of) these characters are the property of Lucasfilm. We're just playing with them.
Note: Thanks to Jedi Rita and Emma Grant for serious handholding, and to Emma for stepping in and helping when the muses got stubborn. Really, really needed you both! Words are not enough. :)
Most Alderaani shy away from holocameras. Fame is simply not our first priority. This goes for politicians, as well, although I know that isn't necessarily common here on Coruscant. Senator Antilles is no more comfortable in front of the cameras than I am. However, he has the advantage of being the senior senator, and he can send me out to deal with the media, claiming (not without reason) that he has better things to do. It isn't even a press conference; it's just the usual throng of reporters that gather outside our offices every day. They've been making more noise than usual lately, and he's gotten tired of it. Sending someone out to deal with them usually calms them down for a few days, and sending me out in particular means they'll probably stay quiet a few days longer than that. That or they'll swallow me whole. I hope it's the former.
"Senator Organa, how is the new colony going on Alderaan?"
There's a stock answer for that question, thankfully. "The settlement is going very well, and we of Alderaan are delighted to have the Caamasi joining us on our homeworld. We're certain it's going to be rewarding for both races."
"Is there any truth to the rumors that many of the businesses on Alderaan are putting up signs saying 'Offworlders not welcome here'?"
It takes effort to keep the frown off my face. "Not at all," I tell them, eyes fixing on the humanoid who asked me that particular uncomfortable question. "The Caamasi are welcome. They're not guests or offworlders anymore."
I'm probably overstating that a bit; certainly there are a number of people who aren't happy about the new colony. But it was worth every bit of the work it took to start that colony up; for the first time in nearly fifty years, Alderaan is starting to peek its proverbial head out at the rest of the galaxy.
"Senator, are you dating a Jedi padawan named -- err -- Bibi-Wan Kenobi?"
And I thought the last question was bad. I try to keep all expression off my face as I say, in all honesty, "I don't know any Jedi by that name." And since that was a question having to do with my personal life and not the political office of senator, I raise my hand and wave to the insatiable reporters. "Thank you all for being here; Alderaan appreciates your interest. No more questions for today."
I head back into our office building and shut the door on flashing lights and more clamoring questions. I head into the lift, and when the door closes, I slump against the back wall, sighing. I'm already exhausted, and it's only ninth hour.
In the office suite, I wave to the secretary in the outermost room and walk into my own office. I sit down at my desk and sigh. There are probably already two dozen messages waiting for me based on the few questions I answered for the reporters, and I don't really want to answer any of them. Fielding media scrutiny is not why I became a senator. This is hardly what I had in mind when it came to public service.
Still, it's part of the job. I sigh, wince, and look at my communiques.
One of them is from my father. I wince harder and open it up.
"Hello, Bail." At least it's only a recorded message and not my father on the line; this way I can wince to my heart's content, and I'll be prepared for what he has to say when I actually have to speak with him next. "I've got some interesting news for you." I blink; that doesn't sound bad so far. "It so happens that your fiancee is going to be on Coruscant at the end of the week. She's the new aide to her planet's senate office -- I suppose she has some political inclinations, which means the two of you might actually have something in common. At any rate, you might want to consider looking her up to make certain she doesn't fall in with the wrong crowd." My father frowns heavily into the screen, and it nearly makes me laugh. That expression says a great deal about what he thinks of the crowds here on Coruscant -- though something tells me he wouldn't know the difference between good and bad ones. "Just a thought. I'd hate to think she might end up causing a scandal before the wedding. Have a good day, Bail."
"You, too, Father," I murmur at the screen. I sigh and shake my head; I need to get my father and my fiancee off my mind, and get my mind back on my work. Enough of the day's been lost to reporters as it is; I have a job to do here.
Work today is a matter of shuffling papers and reading the latest bills that have been submitted to the Senate floor. It seems every day there are more of these things to read, and I've often wondered what it is about politics that makes people believe they need a bill for every small decision -- everything from the amount of corn that may be exported from Anduras to the going price for deuterium. All this while people are starving on every planet in the galaxy. Frustrating, but unavoidable, I suppose. It amazes me that shuffling papers can take as much time as it does; by the time I've caught up on the different bills that are facing votes and sent memos to the office staff on my positions on these bills, it's nearly time to leave. And I'm glad for it. There are times when my job is entirely too exhausting.
Of course, there's more to it than that. I have a date tonight. Ben should be showing up at my doorstep around 22nd hour, and I can't wait to see him. I wonder if he caught the newscast where he was saddled with the unfortunate name of "Bibi-Wan".
Traffic is miserable as I head home; I barely have time to get out of my work clothes and into something more casual before there's a knock at my door. I nearly sprint to open it. As usual, Ben is in drag. I've gotten used to it, and in some ways it's a bit of a thrill -- he's dressed in some kind of sparkling green shirt that matches the green in his eyes and the liner smudged around them, so he looks enticing -- but in other ways, I hate it. I loathe that he has to disguise himself in order to visit me. I hate having to pretend.
"Hello, Bail," he purrs. He looks even more energetic than usual, but that energy appears harnessed, as if he's trying hard not to startle me with it. "How was your day?"
"Exhausting. Come in?"
Ben walks inside and I close the door after him. "Can I get you out of..."
"...my clothes? I thought you'd never ask," he teases.
"I meant the clubbing gear," I sigh, following him through my apartment to the bathroom, "but I suppose the clothes count as part of that."
In the bathroom, I sit him down on a stool in front of a mirror and reach out with a cloth dipped in cleansing foam. He closes his eyes, and I gently wipe away the glitter, the eyeliner, the color he's added to his lips. In some ways, it's like painting in reverse: taking away what's not real, leaving behind the man I love.
"You like this part, don't you?" Ben murmurs.
"Be still or I'll end up smudging foam into your nostrils," I tease.
"You might not want to be so quick about it."
I pause with the cloth held to his cheek. "Oh? Why not? Am I irritating your skin?"
"No, no. Not at all. But... you might want to get used to me in eyeliner."
I frown; his eyes sparkle. "I know that look," I tell him. "What are you getting at?"
"I had a talk with Qui-Gon last night that set me to thinking."
"Ahh." I actually do stop this time, leaning back against the counter. He takes the cloth out of my hand and continues removing his makeup as I watch. "And what did Master Jinn say in this talk?"
Ben shakes his head. "Not much," he admits. "I came home from lightsaber practice -- Force, you should have seen the burns I got trying to keep two twelve-year-old initiates from killing each other -- and he had tea ready." Ben isn't quite as good at removing his makeup as I am, particularly since he's not bothering with a mirror; he has a smudge of green across one cheek now. It takes me a few seconds before I realize he's not continuing, and maybe that smudge isn't a simple matter of being clumsy with his makeup removal. I nudge him a bit to get his attention. His eyes come back to mine, and he smiles.
"Tea ready," I repeat, taking the cloth and removing that smudge. "And he said...?"
"He said it was a shame I wasn't seeing anyone in the Temple."
I freeze with the cloth an inch away from his face. "That's an interesting comment," I tell him, voice tight. "How did you respond?"
He puts a hand over my wrist. "It's not like that. He doesn't want me seeing someone else. I was upset at first, too, but after a few moments, I realized what he was talking about. I asked why it was a shame I wasn't seeing anyone in the Temple, and he shrugged and said that it's normal for padawans my age. Expected, even. We get into casual relationships, we're seen together often. Nothing odd or secretive about it. Some of my friends are starting to form relationships of their own. None of them look like they have anything to hide."
"But your friends aren't in love," I murmur.
I raise an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Prove Siri's not in love with Keli." He has something glinting in his eyes now, and I'm not sure whether I like it or not. "You can't, can you? Love is elusive. When you're in it, you know what's happening, but for the most part, padawan couples are accepted as not being in attached, love relationships, because of how they act." He stands up and slides the cloth out of my hand. "They go to clubs. They share lovers. They don't hide."
"I don't understand."
"What's different about us, Bail?" he asks. "What's different about our relationship compared to the relationships all the other padawans have with people?"
Baffled, I shake my head. "What's not different?"
"What's different is the way we've been behaving. We act as if we have something to hide. What if we didn't? What if we were open and honest about being involved? The only reason it looks suspicious is because we've decided to deny we're even seeing each other. 'Bibi-Wan Kenobi' indeed." He sniffs.
"I didn't realize you kept such a close eye on the holonews," I tell him.
"I keep a close eye on you," Ben grins. He leans forward and brushes his lips over my cheek. "So what do you think?"
"I think... I'm not quite certain what you're asking for." Or rather, I think I know what he's asking for, and I want him to come out and ask for it directly. I fix him with a look.
"Think about it," he urges me. "Suppose we were out in public. Suppose we went out dancing. We could stop behaving as if there's something the matter with our relationship. Stop meeting in secret. Stop sticking only to ourselves. Stop making it look as though we have something to hide."
"We do have something to hide," I point out. "We fell in love."
"Force, Bail, I know that, but what if it didn't look that way? What if we..." He trails a fingertip down the center of my chest. "Hid in plain sight?"
I don't want to give him an answer right away; I have no idea what I think of all this. But I don't want him to be afraid of my lack of reaction; I don't want him to think the answer is no before I've had a chance to decide what my answer is. I put on my best politician's face, then grin and shake my head at him. "Let me think about it. How about a game of chess while I'm thinking?" I wrap my arms around his shoulders. "You must promise not to cheat this time."
He gives me a wide-eyed, innocent look. "I never--!" I merely raise my eyebrows. "My hand never touched your bishop."
I lean forward and nuzzle at his neck. "You, my sinful young padawan, don't need to use your hands when it comes to my bishop."
"Ohhh. You've found me out." He grins. "I promise, no Force tricks. I'll beat you fairly this time."
Ben is actually quite good at chess, something that surprised me when I first invited him to play a game with me. I don't know whether he's studied the masters as I have, but he seems to be able to counter some of the more ambitious gambits I've flung at him. He's difficult to distract, too, unlike myself. I remember several games I've lost due to a certain way he'll lick his lips, or motions he'll make with his hands. I really must learn to concentrate better. Or at least figure out how to distract him.
The first few moves pass in silence; the board opens up slightly, and we begin to exchange pieces. I lose a pawn and, painfully, a bishop; I manage to take one of his knights and one of his bishops, which puts me at a slight advantage. Once we're well into the midgame, I look up at him.
"Ben?" I ask.
He moves his pawn forward, threatening my knight. Beautiful -- my knight has been waiting for the appropriate opportunity to storm forward and attack his rook. I make the appropriate move and watch him frown and think about it. Time for the "distract-the-Jedi" gambit. "Would I actually have to sleep with other people to carry off this hiding-in-plain-sight idea of yours?" I ask.
Ben looks up at me, startled. "Would you want to?" he asks.
"I doubt it," I scoff; honestly, I'm a little hurt he'd think I might want to, given how lukewarm my reaction to "opening" our relationship has been so far.
He notices that and shakes his head. "Of course not," he says. A little of the enthusiasm has worn out of his voice, and he can't seem to resist adding, "Only if you wanted to." After a great deal of deliberation, he retreats his rook; I have a free move to advance my bishop into a slightly more central location, where it can threaten four different pieces without actually being in a vulnerable position itself. He surprises me, though, by moving his knight into an aggressive position that will threaten my king in two moves. I grin at him. Time for more distraction.
"It would make things easier for you, wouldn't it? If we were just another padawan couple, or at least looked like one, you wouldn't have to worry about getting into trouble anymore. I'd just be another one of your lovers."
Ben's eyes immediately snap to mine. "I don't want you to be just another lover."
"But I'd look like one. And apparently appearances are more important than substance here."
"I -- yes, maybe, but that's not why I want to do this."
"It's not the only reason," he concedes. "I want to stop hiding. If you want to talk about appearances being important, what about the fact that right now it appears we're not seeing each other at all? Doesn't that bother you?"
I shake my head. "Ben, try to understand, while it might be easier for you if we're open--" I almost have to stop and roll my eyes at that idea; we'd be both out in the open and more closeted than ever-- "I have other concerns. My father, for one. And Alderaani aren't exactly the club-hopping types, not most of the time."
"I know, Bail -- that's why I'm asking you about it, rather than simply giving you an ultimatum."
I sigh and shake my head. "It's hard enough for me to avoid the media as it is without suddenly ending up acting severely out of character for an Alderaani. And a senator, no less."
Ben snorts at that. "There are tons of senators and aides in the clubs. You'd barely stand out at all."
I blink a few times. "You don't think so?"
"No, definitely not. I mean, just this last week we started seeing the new crop of senate aides at Rising. There are at least five of them -- I'm trying to remember where they come from. Chandrila, Kuat, Naboo, Malastare..."
"Really." The new aide from -- well, how about that. Perhaps I could handle two matters with one action -- keep an eye out to make sure my fiancee isn't getting herself in trouble, and save Ben difficulty with the Jedi. If I'm found out, I can make the excuse that I was keeping an eye on my fiancee. And then again... "Well." I move my rook out of its corner and block off Ben's knight's next move. "I'll say this much -- I'd be in a great deal more trouble with my father if we were hiding something and got caught than if it simply looked as if I were having another affair with a padawan."
Ben's eyes light up. "Ninthday night. Are you free? We can go out to Rising; I'll invite my friends. It's a start."
"It's a start," I agree. "Come here and kiss me."
I smirk slightly at my reflection. The man in the mirror smirks back. He doesn't look like me, not one bit. Ben picked out my "clubbing outfit" a few nights ago, and it's... well, colorful, I suppose. Not clothes I'd be caught dead in ordinarily -- tight black pants, and a red silk shirt I would normally only sleep in. In fact, I believe my father gave me that set of pyjamas about ten years ago. Needless to say, the shirt is a bit tight. I didn't even know I still had it until Ben pulled it from the bottom of a drawer, crowing "Yes!" loudly.
And I can't believe I let him pierce my ears. He swore he would heal them if I didn't like it. I didn't know he could heal people using the Force. I'm sure it's a skill that comes in handy in his kind of work. I inspect the gold hoops in my ears, thinking, not bad. It didn't hurt as much as I'd expected. And how could I say no, with that look on his face? He really believes this is the answer, that we'll be able to be together even while pretending we're... whatever. I won't pretend to understand the nature of "appropriate" Jedi padawan relationships. We're allowed to be a couple, but only if we don't appear to be monogamous?
I run a hand through my carefully styled hair -- black curls frame my face, much longer than my father would like. Hells, he wouldn't like the eyeliner either. Traditional Alderaani culture frowns heavily on drawing attention to oneself like this, and he is nothing if not a traditionalist. He would kill me if he could see me now. I can't help smiling at the thought.
The chrono on the wall shows it's nearly 22nd hour -- time to go. I smile a bit at my reflection. He winks back at me. This might be... fun.
I pay the doorman and step into a cataract of light and sound, one that almost makes me stumble from the overload of sensation. I haven't been to Rising in months, and it's just as I remember. On a Ninthday night, the dance floor is packed, and the air is hazy with smoke from various inhalants, legal and otherwise. The scent of sweat and cologne lingers, despite the massive air-scrubbers this building must have under the floor. The beat of the music pounds steadily, slightly faster than my heart beats, and I feel my heart begin to speed up slightly in response. I've only been here a minute, and I feel high already.
I scan the bar to my right, but don't see anyone familiar. Ben said he'd be here around 22nd, and that he'd be with friends. I'm going to meet his friends? I briefly met one, once -- a boy named Keli, I think. Are all of Ben's friends so... hot? I really need a drink. I head to the bar.
The bartender, a smiling middle-aged woman in green traggar-hide, brings my order, and I settle back against the bar to scan the room again.
"Senator," a voice says, immediately to my right. I freeze for a moment, panicking. What was I thinking, coming to a public place like this, dressed like... I turn, and see Master Jinn smiling at me. He doesn't look like the intimidating Jedi master I remember from the Camaasi negotiations. He's dressed quite casually, and his long hair is pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck. He's taking a drag on a cigarette of some sort, eyes sparkling.
He looks pretty hot, actually. I smile at him. "Master Jinn. Fancy meeting you here."
"Please, call me Qui-Gon." He exhales, and a stream of smoke drifts up, obscuring his features slightly. The smoke is tinted blue -- or is it the lights?
"Then you must call me Bail."
He nods, eyes appraising me rather overtly. It makes me shiver, but not in an unpleasant way. I down the drink in one go. What is wrong with me tonight? Ben, Ben... where the hell is Ben?
"Enjoying yourself tonight, Qui-Gon?"
He puts out the cigarette and moves a little closer. "Yes. You?"
I smile in a way I hope is enigmatic. Maybe even sexy. "I was hoping to see your padawan here tonight." That sounds casual, right?
He grins and nods towards the dance floor. "He's here. He's dancing with..." He drops off, and I follow his gaze, out to the throng of moving bodies in the colorfully lit interior of the club. I don't see Ben at all. I look back at Qui-Gon, and he shrugs. "I saw him a moment ago. Maybe he's getting his cock sucked in the back room."
I force myself not to react to that statement, which was clearly intended to provoke me. After a moment, I manage a smile. "Maybe I should just wait here, then. He'll find me when he's done." My stomach twists a little. Is he really...?
Qui-Gon smiles at me, a knowing smile. "Yes," he says. "I'm sure he will."
"And you?" I ask, signaling the bartender for another drink. "Are you here alone?"
He shakes his head, looking back to the dance floor. "No, I'm here with someone. He's dancing, at the moment."
I try to follow his gaze, but I can't see who he's looking at. I'm suddenly intensely curious to see Qui-Gon Jinn's date. "And you just like to... watch?" I am sure to tilt my head down slightly on the last word, glancing up at him through my eyelashes. I've learned a lot from Ben, I must say.
He smiles a bit wider, and picks up his own drink from the bar. "Yes," he says, and then takes a sip, never dropping my gaze. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."
Arms slide around my waist, and a warm sweaty face is pressed into my neck, catching me quite by surprise.
"Bail," I hear, whispered against my skin.
"Ben," I reply, turning into his embrace. "Here you are, at last." He kisses me then, hard and full of feeling, and right in front of his master. I'm shocked, but I suppose he knows what he's doing.
"Bail, you won't believe what this Boralian guy just did to me," he giggles, almost sounding drunk.
"Really?" I ask, struggling to keep the tension from my voice. What exactly is he playing at? "I do hope you'll tell me all about it." My eyes convey the tension I'm feeling, I'm certain. Was this really a good idea?
"Mmmm, I will. Later." He turns in my arms so that our cheeks are pressed together, and we're both facing Qui-Gon. "Master, you remember Senator Bail Organa, don't you?"
Qui-Gon's eyes narrow slightly. "Yes, Obi-Wan. We've just been talking, in fact."
Qui-Gon shrugs in reply. I have no idea who Xan is. Maybe Qui-Gon's date for the evening?
Ben pulls away from me and tugs on my hand. I resist just enough to suck down my second round and then nod at Qui-Gon before allowing myself to be pulled towards the dance floor. The view of Ben from behind is... well. He's wearing very tight, low-slung silver pants, made of some sort of leather I can't identify. They're so low that the cleft of his ass peeks out teasingly, making my mouth water slightly. He's wearing a black shirt that's been unfastened down the front, and is now flowing behind him. His hair is spiked into a strange glittery style, and as he turns back to grin at me, I notice he's still wearing the earring I gave him last week.
He stops, and pulls me towards him. Suddenly I'm in his arms, and he's moving his body against mine, slowly, deliberately. The alcohol has gone to my head, and I feel myself grinding back against him, getting hard, even though we're in a club, surrounded by people.
"Ben," I groan, trying to pull away from him a little. "This is... what's happening? Did you really--"
"No," he grins, cutting me off with a mere look. "Of course not. I just said that for effect."
I'm sure my relief is apparent. I smile. "All right. What... what now?"
He grasps my hips and pulls me against him once more. "We dance," he says simply.
"Is that all?" I reply, willing my cock back down, fairly unsuccessfully.
"Look around," he says, smiling wickedly. I can't tell if it's for show or for real. "See anyone you like?"
A warm body presses against us both before I have a chance to reply. I turn my head to see a young woman, maybe younger than Ben, trying to insinuate her body between us. Stunned, I take a small step backwards, and she slides into the space left by my movement. She faces me, and grinds her ass into Ben's crotch playfully.
"You must be Bail," she says, smiling at me. Her long blonde hair gleams in the flashing lights, and I see nothing but skin, since she's wearing little else above the waist. Obi-Wan's hands slide around her body and cup her breasts. He kisses her neck softly, not removing his eyes from mine. I'm shocked, to say the least. He's slack, for fuck's sake! What's this about?
I stare hard at him, and he winks at me. Oh. He must be playing a game of some sort. I smile back. I can do this. I can do this, for him.
I fix my gaze on the girl again. "And you must be Siri," I reply, stroking one finger down her cheek, under her jaw, down her neck. She's really very attractive, now that I take a moment to look at her properly.
She smiles. "Yes, I am." She leans back against Ben, grinning. "You're even cuter than he said."
I smile a little wider at that. "Oh?" I look at Ben again. "You told her I was cute?"
He licks his lips. "You are cute," he says, eyes sparkling mischievously. "And you look incredibly hot tonight. Can I suck you off, right now?"
I struggle not to look shocked. "Now?"
Siri slings her arms around my neck, pressing her torso against mine. "Oooh, can I watch?" she whispers. I honestly don't know what to say. I look at Ben, feeling myself beginning to panic. He gives me what he must think is a reassuring look as Siri pulls us both towards the back room. I swallow, hard. I don't know how I feel about this, I really don't.
Siri pulls us through the crowd, and I can't help but notice that we're drawing a bit of attention. I groan at the thought that I could be recognized here, in this situation, about to be in a compromising situation with two Jedi padawans. My father is going to kill me.
A plan forms in my mind -- a way to get out of this situation without having to engage in any sexual contact in public. I can tell them that I--
I'm slammed against a wall, and Ben's face is pressed into my crotch, mouthing my cock through my pants. Siri's mouth is on my ear, her tongue tracing a path around the whorl, and then she sucks on the lobe slightly, tonguing the gold hoop.
What was I thinking?
Ben has my pants undone, and then my cock is in his mouth, hot, wet...
Fuck. He's so good at this. And it's quite dark in this corner, isn't it? No one will see us. Siri's standing so that anyone who might glance this way won't see much. Oh, gods...
Ben's head is bobbing up and down, his tongue moving back and forth along the underside of my cock as he moves, sucking lightly. His forehead is scrunched up in concentration, and his eyes are closed. I lean my head back against the wall with a moan, gasping for breath.
"This is so hot," Siri whispers wetly, her tongue tracing along the underside of my jaw. I turn to look at her, and she catches my lips in a kiss. I'm so shocked that I don't respond as she worms her tongue into my mouth. And then the combination of sensations overwhelms me -- Ben sucking my cock, Siri kissing me passionately... I've never done anything like this before in my life. Except for that one time on the bridge with Ben, I've never had sex in a place where other people could watch. And I've certainly never done anything that involved more than one other person.
Ben sucks hard, and I feel one wet finger slide into me, searching for my prostate. I whimper, and Siri pulls my tongue into her mouth, sucking it in a fair replication of Ben's actions below. Smooth, wet, gliding...
I twist my hand in Ben's hair to warn him, and then I come, pulling my tongue out of Siri's mouth and grunting harshly against her lips. I slump slightly against the wall, and Ben presses my hips up hard in an effort to keep me standing upright. He smiles up at me, lips swollen and glistening. Siri rains kisses on my cheek.
"You're okay, Bail," she whispers. "You did just fine."
Ten minutes later, we're back at the bar, and I'm slinging back another stiff drink. Ben is leaning against me, commenting on some of the hot guys on the dance floor. To my left, Master Jinn is snogging a dark-haired man with no shirt on. They're nearly at the point of needing a private room, from the looks of things.
How the hell did I get here? This has to be one of the strangest evenings of my life.
Ben redirects my attention to the dance floor once again. "See that group, where Siri is now? Those are the new senate aides I was telling you about, trying not to look like offworlders. And failing miserably, I must say." He laughs.
I find Siri in the crowd, and then notice the people around her -- all young, and all quite conspicuously overdressed for this place. I wonder...
I finish my drink and take Ben's hand, still watching the newcomers. "Let's dance," I say, pulling him behind me. I walk as close to the group as I dare, and pull Ben against me, still scanning the faces, looking for--
And then I see her, smiling coquettishly at Siri. She's got more make-up on than in the holos I've seen of her, and her hair is wound into tight curls that flow around her shoulders. She's wearing what must be the shortest skirt I've ever seen, and a strip of glittery fabric defies gravity as it barely covers her breasts. I feel oddly unaffected by her appearance, considering that this is the woman I'm going to marry.
Siri pulls her into a kiss, sliding one hand around her body and grasping her ass.
Ben notices the object of my sudden attention. "Siri didn't waste any time, did she?"
"Hmmm?" I respond, not looking away from the sight of my fiancée with a female padawan. It occurs to me that I've never seen two women kissing before, and it's strangely… erotic.
Ben grasps my jaw and turns my face towards him. "Bail? Hello in there."
I force a smile. "Sorry. That was just... distracting." I clear my throat and try to focus on my boyfriend. "Siri and that girl make a nice pair, don't you think?"
Ben looks over and shrugs. "I suppose." He looks back at me, and I turn my head back just in time. He frowns.
"You really do like watching them, don't you?"
I sigh, knowing that I'm not going to get out of this one. I'm not even sure I want to. "Ben," I whisper, and kiss him. "How much longer do we have to stay?" My lips find that spot on his neck, where his jaw ends, and I nip it lightly. The alcohol, the back room, the lights - all of it is starting to make me feel lightheaded. "I want to bury my cock in you," I whisper between nips. "I want to hear you scream my name tonight."
He moans and melts against me, and I feel his sudden erection pressing into my thigh. He buries his forehead in my chest, and I feel him nodding in agreement. I look back across the dance floor, and a pair of liquid brown eyes meet mine. She smiles, and her hand slips down inside Siri's pants. I smile back before pulling Ben towards the door.
I could swear there are more than two hands tugging at my shirt, tugging at my pants. If I didn't know there were only the two of us in my apartment, I'd think we'd been joined by another of Ben's friends. I wonder if Ben feels the same way -- that my hands are everywhere, getting him undressed as fast as humanly possible. I can't get to skin fast enough. I need him under me, now.
"Slow down," he pants, which is almost funny; Ben who's often in such a hurry wants me to slow down? Now? "It's all right, we have all night. It's just the two of us now."
"I want you," I tell him, which is both obvious and a bit of a non sequitur. "Come on, come on -- hurry..."
I shove him over to the couch and topple him over the back of it; he hangs on to my shirt and it rips. I laugh, even though he looks vaguely remorseful, and tackle him to the cushions.
"What's gotten into you?" he asks, his voice reaching a higher pitch as I bite down on the side of his neck, maybe a little too hard. "Are you -- Bail, did you drink anything while I wasn't looking?"
I pull back and grin at him. "Are you asking if someone spiked my drink?"
"Honestly, Ben. Do you care?" I yank at the fastenings of his pants, and though I think he might have been on the verge of saying 'yes', instead he simply lets out a breath and shakes his head 'no'. Good thing. I have his cock in my hand and I'm already squeezing. Stroking him. His head slams back into the arm of the couch, and he's breathing hard.
"Bail -- we should -- talk," he pants out.
"Ohhh -- Force, Bail, yes, yes, later, whatever you say."
I grin at that, and run my free hand up his chest so I can rub my thumb in circles over his nipple. He moans and catches my hand in his, then tugs it up to his mouth so he can suck on my fingers. It's so good I nearly lose my focus; I try to tug my hand away so I don't get distracted, but he doesn't let me. Fine -- I'll speed my pace up and see what happens then.
He doesn't stop sucking on my fingers; when I speed up, he sucks harder, and I'm truly sorry it's my fingers in his mouth now and not my cock. He's starting to flush a little from the arousal, and it's beautiful, simply breathtaking. I grin and give his cock a neat little twist under the head, and he jerks in my hand -- he throws his head back and comes, and I feel the soft splash of it against my inner wrist. It's a good thing my shirt was already ruined; now it's truly meant for the scrap heap. Ben grins up at me, gasping for breath. I finally take my fingers from his mouth and draw a wet trail down his chest, stroking his nipple with my fingertips.
"Wow," he says, finally. "That was... what was that? What just happened to you?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Did you like it?"
"Yes--" He sits up and tugs me down to him so he can kiss me. "Of course I liked it, Bail. I was just shocked."
"It's been a shocking sort of evening," I tell him, rolling my eyes slightly. "Do you mind?"
"Not if you don't." But he looks a bit concerned.
I lever myself up on my arms, trying not to leave stains on the cushions -- oh, hells, they'll end up stained regardless, I'm sure. I look down into his eyes. "What's the matter, Ben?"
"I just don't want you moving too fast." He reaches up and strokes my cheek, then pushes my hair back off my face. "Everything's been happening very quickly tonight. The scene in the club with Siri..."
"It was fine," I whisper. I wonder if my eyes are going dark at the memory. I wonder if he'll notice.
"You did great," he grins, then pauses. "But was it all right, really? I don't want you doing anything you might regret in the morning."
I nuzzle against his hand. "I don't, either." I hope it's not too late for that. I'm honestly not sure what I'm going to think of all this once I wake up in the morning. I suspect it will depend on whether I wake up alone or with Ben next to me. Sometimes he stays, sometimes he goes, but most nights he curls up with me and sleeps a while. I think he's grown used to me, just as I have to him. There are times I wonder whether it was smart to grow so fond of him.
"What's that look?" he asks. There are also times I wish he weren't so attuned to me. While it's wonderful to have an attentive lover, sometimes I wish I had more time to work out uncertainty before he asks me what's the matter.
I shake my head. "Let me sort this out before we talk about it. I think I need to sleep on a lot of things."
"Sleep. That's good." He pulls me down to him again. "We can sleep."
First we both shower; the smoke and haze from Rising still clings to our clothes, and I doubt I could sleep very well with both of us still smelling of drugs, heat, sweat and sex. But then we slide into my bed, and Ben makes a soft, contented noise as he curls up behind me.
"I do love you, Bail," he murmurs. "How we are in the clubs doesn't have to change how we feel about each other."
"I love you, too," I tell him. But I don't answer the rest of his statement. I'm not entirely sure I agree.
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