by Emma Grant
Category: Obi/Siri, PWP
Disclaimer: Lucas and Watson.
Summary: Hot and sticky stuff.
Warnings: Sort of non-con.
Feedback: Please, oh please. Thanks to the LJ gang for preliminary comments!
Note: This was a little scene I haven't been able to get out of my head. Actually, it's a very old unwritten bunny that started life years ago as a Luke/Leia (gasp!) bunny, circa "Splinter of the Mind's Eye." Then it was an unwritten Luke/Mara bunny. I thought I might finally be able to exorcise it using my current favorite het pairing...
She was shoved against a slick stone wall, so hard she heard the sound her own skull made as it smacked the hard surface, so hard she saw stars for a moment.
"Quiet," he whispered when she whimpered involuntarily, clamping one dirty hand over her mouth and pressing his body against hers. In the darkness she couldn't even see his face.
But she could smell him. The musky scent of his sweat blended with the damp, mossy smell of the alcove he'd shoved her into. It blended with the smell of her own sweat, so familiar and earthy. The scent of the two of them filled her nostrils, curling its way into dark corners in her brain, places she'd forgotten about. She inhaled slowly, deeply. He shifted his body slightly to give her a little more room to breathe, as if worried that she was going to panic.
She wasn't going to panic, though. The pain at the back of her head subsided, and she shrank against the wall, trying to make herself as flat as possible. He noticed and pressed himself closer. She could feel his hot breath on her neck. She could feel her breasts smashing flat against his chest. The heat began to intensify between their bodies, and she could feel a bead of sweat trickle down between her breasts. It itched.
Standing beads of sweat trickled down from her forehead; one found its way into her eyes, making them screw shut in irritation. This had to be the hottest planet she'd ever been on in her life. She growled in frustration.
"Hush, damn it!" he whispered harshly. His hand pressed tighter against her mouth, knocking her head against the wall again. There was going to be a lump at the back of her skull later. She opened her eyes and glared at him. He returned it defiantly.
She closed her eyes again, inhaling through her nose. He dropped his hand from her face and the skin there felt cool for a brief moment in comparison. The heat was almost unbearable. She wanted to scream. He'd probably just hit her if she did. She opened her eyes. Her vision had adjusted to the dim light now.
He was listening intently, eyes glazed over, not really seeing her at all. One of his hands was pressed into the wall by her head. The other was hanging by his side. She could feel the heat peeling off of him, mingling with her own body heat, making them sweat even more. All she could smell was sweat -- his and hers, intensifying, dizzying.
Somewhere in the corner of her mind, she remembered sweat contained pheromones. That was probably why she was feeling so... She wriggled slightly, feeling herself blush uncomfortably at the very thought that she might be enjoying this.
His eyes focused on her intensely. "Will you be still, please? They'll hear us." A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek. She wanted to lick it off. That thought made her wriggle again, uncomfortably warm in all the wrong places. He glared at her, reddish brown hair wet with sweat, blue eyes intense.
She stared back in a way that only had one possible interpretation. His eyes widened, and then narrowed again. She brought one hand up and combed her fingers through his sweat-slicked hair, biting her lip to keep from making a sound. It was nice, the feeling of his sweat on her fingers, a little oily and hot to the touch. But it wasn't enough.
Her other hand swiftly unfastened the closures on the front of his trousers, and then she wrapped her wet hand around his flaccid penis. He jerked back in shock, eyes wide.
"Quiet," she whispered huskily. "They'll hear us." She moved her hand slowly, stroking his cock, sliding one finger under the foreskin, finding a sensitive spot.
"What are you...? Stop that," he whispered, eyes even wider than before. "Please, don't--"
"Hush now," she said, pressing one dirty finger against his lips. He wriggled a little, perhaps trying to dislodge her, but he couldn't go far without the risk of exposing their hiding place. Her hand continued its rhythm, sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin. He was starting to get hard now.
He closed his eyes and leaned against her, whispering, "Please don't. Not like this." But his body continued to respond. His firm cock was impressive in her hand, and she heard his breathing quicken in her ear. She could smell him now, more intensely than before. His cock was slick and hot against her palm. She cupped the base of his skull with her other hand and pulled him into a kiss. He resisted at first, and then, very suddenly, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her so hard that the sore spot on the back of her head was pressed painfully against the wall. She released her tight grip on his neck and pumped his cock faster.
He seized her head in his hands and held her against the wall, pulling out of the kiss, staring at her from so close that she could see her reflection in the pupils of his eyes. The look on his face was a mixture of confusion and certainty, pain and pleasure, desire and defiance.
"Do you want me to stop?" she whispered.
He paused, his eyes rolling back briefly when she twisted her hand on the upstroke flicking her fingertip against the spot she'd discovered. "No, don't stop. Just... hurry."
She sped up her strokes, watching his face carefully, watching the way he grimaced when it felt good, the way he gritted his teeth when he started to get close. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his clenched teeth as he got closer.
She clamped her free hand over his mouth. "Quietly."
He came without a sound, his face revealing the blend of emotions he felt at this release, collapsing against her. She felt hot semen cover her hand as she slowed her strokes, trying to draw his orgasm out. He finally shifted his hips back as a signal for her to stop.
She wiped most of the semen onto his stomach, rubbing it into his skin before snaking her arms around him to support him. He trembled slightly against her, and guilt began to seep into her mind at last. She rained kisses on his neck then, tasting the saltiness there, whispering a heartfelt apology over and over. He'd told her to stop. She'd ignored him. She'd put them in danger. She should have stopped. She was so sorry.
"No," he whispered, "It's all right. Don't worry about it." He drew away from her enough that she could see it in his eyes; see that he meant it. "I think they're gone now, anyway."
They stepped out of the dark alcove carefully, adjusting their clothing. A cool breeze blew down the passageway, drying sweat on exposed skin and taking heat away with it. He closed his eyes and smiled at the sensation, then turned and winked at her. She smiled.
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