Not So Comfortable
by Emila-Wan Kenobi

Rating: NC-17
Warnings: het
Pairing: Siri/Obi-Wan
Summary: A mirror to Jena Bartley's "Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against the Wall" from Obi-Wan's POV
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or world, George does. This fic is a work of love, and no profit is being made from it.
Feedback: Sock it to me, baby!
Archive: yes
Note: Thanks to Jena for allowing me to play in her sandbox. Her original shortfic was so hot, I just HAD to explore the events leading up to it and how Obi-Wan felt about the whole situation. Hope you all enjoy it!
Posted: 9/25/03

Obi-Wan's comlink chirped once: Siri's signal. The buyer must be in place.

Obi-Wan smoothed his hands over the rough, unfamiliar civilian clothing he wore and pasted a look of innocent uncertainty on his face. Without his beard he looked younger -- almost a teenager again. No one would have trouble believing it was his first time at a brothel.

He wandered out of the alley and over to the guarded door. The Trandoshan bouncer demanded his ID and a hefty payment; he handed over a credit chip that proved he was legal, if only just, and able to afford the establishment's many pleasures. The Trandoshan flashed a mouthful of sharp teeth at him and let him pass.

The atmosphere inside literally took his breath away. A miasma of intoxicants and hallucinogens clouded the air. He blinked away tears. Crimson lights glowed and flashed through the haze. Sentient and half-sentient beings of all sorts were wrapped about each other, groping and coupling on the couches and booths. Others danced on a small square of artificial stone to the beat of subdued jizz-wail music. An occasional moan penetrated loud enough to be heard. In the farthest corner from the door, a massive Hutt on a hoversled held court over an entourage of servers and dancing girls. The Senator from Crakas was just taking a seat in the midst of them.

Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, feigning uncertainty, until a young, beautiful human female with short-cropped blonde hair and very little clothing insinuated a hand through the crook of his elbow and tugged him across the room to the bar.

"Buy me a drink," she demanded softly, sliding a palm up and down his arm in a sensual motion.

He swallowed, feeling suddenly as uncertain as he pretended to be. It was only a mission, he told himself. Not even a very difficult one. And he'd had the easier part of it so far, running computer searches while waiting in a squalid room and establishing his identity. Siri had been the one to get hired on as a worker in the brothel. She had not balked at the assignment; she was a consummate Jedi, wholly dedicated to duty. He could do no less than honor her example with his own professionalism.

"What are you having?" he asked.

Her eyes flickered to the far corner, then back to him. Their eyes met. He felt a pulse of urgency from her, but when she spoke it was languid, teasing.

"A slow, comfortable screw up against the wall."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Beg pardon?" he said, a slight hitch in his voice.

She smiled. "It's a drink ... or a position." Her eyes shifted again, a little worried now. Her hand traced its way into his palm; her fingers made a sign against his skin. Then the hand moved further down to cup his genitals through his pants. "You pick."

Ah. So they would have to go through with this after all. Very well.

He let himself respond to her touch. His penis twitched against her palm. He placed his hand against the thin fabric of her top, pebbling the nipple beneath his fingers. He felt her heartbeat quicken. "I didn't come here to drink."

"Good." She tugged his arm again, and he followed her as she wound among the tables and across the room to a bare patch of wall near the Hutt's corner.

She backed up, pulling him against her, pulling his head down to her breasts. He mouthed her nipple through the cloth, then slid the fabric aside so he could lick the hard nub. She tasted of soap and spice. Her hand was busy inside his pants, working him to full hardness. It didn't take long; it had been quite a while for him. He clamped down on his arousal and rose up to whisper in her ear. "If you want me to last, you'd better slow down."

"You set the pace then, lover," she teased, and bit his earlobe.

He stifled a groan, then realized he didn't have to hold back. He gave himself over to the pleasure of her mouth, nipping and licking his neck, the hinge of his jaw. She rucked up her skirt, lifted one leg to wrap around his thigh, and in one smooth motion shifted to impale herself upon him.

He moaned and buried his face against her shoulder. Force, it was good. He shouldn't be thinking of it; he should be concentrating on the mission, watching for danger, but it was hard to have a coherent thought when he was buried deep in slick, tight heat.

Her hand settled, warm and gentle, against the back of his neck, and he realized she wanted him to stay that way so she could have a good view of the Senator and the Hutt. He started a slow, deep thrusting, and concentrated on making it last. He couldn't see what she was watching, didn't know how long it might take.

A slow screw up against the wall wasn't all that comfortable, no matter what the drink was called. He had to keep his knees bent to maintain the right angle to slide into her, one hand holding her thigh, the other braced against the duracrete behind her. His back was bent unnaturally to keep his face buried in her neck. He longed to straighten up for a moment, to let go of her leg, drop her to the floor, and just drive himself into her -- hard and fast. Instead he focused on moving slowly, steadily, in and out, in and out. He wasn't supposed to notice how exquisitely tight she was, how the slick friction wrapped around his painfully hard sex, the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart, the smell of her hair, the taste of her skin. His lips felt swollen. He wasn't supposed to want to kiss her.

He struggled to regulate his breathing, slow and deep, to match his thrusting.

He extended his senses outward, trying to distract himself from how good it felt. He needed to remember his duty. This was a mission, after all. Nothing more to it than that.

At once his mind was flooded with images of dozens of beings coupling, fondling, stroking, moaning, coming. He groaned and withdrew his mind from the crowd. Force, that had been a mistake.

He hoped the Senator would hurry. He could feel his penis growing even bigger and stiffer, filling and stretching Siri's passage almost to the point of pain. He hoped he wasn't hurting her. His balls ached. He took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to keep the thrusting slow and deep. It was like a mantra he said in his head: slow and deep, slow and deep.

Siri's hand slid into his hair. Oh, but that felt good, too, and he shouldn't be thinking that, shouldn't be wanting more of her touch. Let it be over soon, he thought. I need ... Oh, Force, how I need.

Siri's hands tightened in his hair and tugged, hard. That was the signal. He let go of her leg and stepped back slightly. His penis slipped free, bobbing in the cold air. Both of them gasped.

She straightened her clothing. He stuffed himself into his pants, pressed a point under his scrotum that released some of the pressure and made walking bearable. His hands were slick with her juices. He could smell their musk lingering in the air. He chided himself silently. Those weren't the details he should be focusing on.

Siri took his hand and turned to follow the Hutt, who had left through a back exit. Their task was to find out who the Senator was selling secrets to. The Hutt was almost certainly not the real buyer. This mission had just got more complicated.

Obi-Wan let himself be led along, keeping up the charade as far as the door. He was grateful for Siri's focus, her dedication to duty. He was still trying to find his center. Mentally he shook himself. He should be thinking about the mission, not the look in her eyes when he'd pulled out of her.

Once they were under cover of darkness in the alley Siri released his hand. He let her get a few meters ahead, then raised his hand to his face and inhaled her scent. Stealthily he stuck out his tongue to taste her juices, just once, before turning his mind again to the mission.

END