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Cultural Exchange: Helens

Authors: Helens and Jedi Rita
Archive: QAJ and Rita's site only, please!
Category: Obi/Bail, AU, Humor, Crossover
Rating: NC-17
Summary: In a bizarre accident with a strange red security field, Queer As Jedi's Obi-Wan ends up on a date with Jedi Rita's Bail Organa.
Feedback: Yes, we'd love it!
Disclaimer: Lucas... and maybe Rod Serling and Gene Roddenberry.

Notes: This is just for fun, not canon in either universe and not meant to be taken seriously! It is most definitely an AU fic! (Of particular note: lack of safe sex. The boys should know better, but with this being A Fic That Never Happened, we can forgive them this time.) Happy April Fools' Day!

This was all spawned by a conversation on the QAJ list:

Rita: Maybe we should write a really weird Alternate Reality where your Bail and my Bail meet over coffee and swap stories about their respective Obis. "Your Obi does *what*? Well, *my* Obi...."
Emma: Or what if your Bails swap places? Rita's Bail and QAJ Obi together... I
think I'd pay money for that!
Helens: This is where the QAJ authors and their Executive Producer exchange one big evil look and scamper off to play with the bunnies... ;)

Notes pt. 2 for those curious about timelines: Rita's Obi-Wan is 20, and he and Bail are in the first year of their relationship.

(QAJ's Obi-Wan)

Bail warned me about the new security system when he called earlier tonight. He left my name with the guards -- "Ben" Kenobi -- but the guards still point at the red force-field screen and politely ask me to step through. The guard on my side of the red screen sits back down behind his desk as I approach the screen; the guard on the other side stands and beckons me over.

"Relax," she says. "It's harmless; it only checks you for weapons and surveillance equipment."

I pass through the screen --

-- fuck. I drop to the ground, dizzy and nauseated. An instant later, a pair of strong hands are helping me off the ground. "You all right?" a gruff voice asks. I stand, trying to regain my balance, still feeling a bit dizzy. The world seems to spin around me before righting itself. I look up at the guard holding my arm and nod. How did he get on the other side of the screen so fast? He was seated behind the desk a second ago.

He glances behind us at the second guard, who's replaced him at the desk. How did she get back there so fast? Why would they change places at all? Maybe I was out longer than I thought. The guard helping me up looks concerned. "He's all right, Mari," he tells the guard on the other side. "Still, we'd better record that one." He looks at me again. "Sorry about that. Still some bugs in the system."

"I imagine so," I tell him. "I'm fine, though, thank you." He lets me go and waves at the elevators. I catch one and make my way to Bail's apartment.

Bizarre. Still, if this building is full of senators and other important Republic citizens, it's no wonder that they resort to such extreme measures to enforce security. I've seen planets that do a great deal more to protect their politicians and royal families; a screening procedure that makes you pass out seems light by comparison.

The dizziness and nausea has left me by the time the elevator reaches Bail's floor. I step out of the elevator and ring his doorbell, and the door slides open for me.

"I've been looking forward to getting you into my apartment all day long," Bail greets me, smiling. Oh -- Force, he looks good tonight. I can't help smiling back. His grin broadens as he shuts the door behind me.

I pull him into my arms. "I've been looking forward to getting here," I murmur, and lean in to kiss him.

Bail wraps his arms around me and kisses me back. He's -- tongue, yes, that's -- oh -- kissing me like he's starving for it. I slide my hands down his back, pulling him close, thrusting my hips up against his. He feels amazing, and it's been how long since we've seen each other? Three days? I didn't realize I'd made that kind of impression on him. I thought I was the only one who'd need it this way -- I slide my hand down to his ass and grope him. He jumps in my arms, but doesn't stop me.

He pulls back. "My, you are eager tonight!" he says, wide grin on his face. "Don't you want to have dinner first?"

"I can wait if you can," I tell him. I reach up and start unbuttoning his shirt.

He takes over, unbuttoning his shirt and yanking it out of his pants, then discarding it. "Appetizers are so underrated as a course," he grins at me. I frown for a second -- what an odd thing for him to say, he's never that smooth -- but then, oh, he's pulling at my clothes, and we make our way over to the couch, leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind us. He has me naked and panting before either of us know what's hit us, and his eyes are incredibly dark as he kisses me again. "Should I ask what's gotten into you tonight?" he asks.

"You, I hope," I grin back.

"What a charming offer. Turn around."

He bends me over the back of his couch, and within seconds, he's in me, pressed up against me and holding me tight. I push back against him, moaning, my moans growing louder as he takes me. I concentrate on supporting myself, not falling over, and trying desperately not to come all over his undoubtedly-expensive furniture. Oh, that's not going to be easy. He lets out a soft moan, and then presses in hard -- oh -- and he's coming inside me, hands holding my hips, breathing my name -- "Obi-Wan," he whispers, and I feel his breath on the back of my neck. He stills against me. Force, I needed him so much. Needed this. I still need -- I want -- he shifts, slips out of me, and turns me around to face him.

"You really must greet me like this every time you come here," he tells me. He leaves kisses over my face, and I shift against him, restless and impatient.

"I'd be more than happy to greet you this way if you'd respond this way every time," I tell him.

He grins. "I could arrange that." He slips down to his knees in front of me, takes me in his mouth, and my vision blurs, dims around me. The way he's doing this -- I've had dozens of men suck me off, have had a number of truly gifted lovers, and I've never had anyone who could make me feel the way this does. I have to close my eyes and hang on tight to the back of the couch, and even then, I nearly collapse when I come for him. Ohhh... I can hear him laughing from below me. He slides back up my body and holds me, and I collapse against him.

Bail manages to move us to the couch, and I snuggle up against him, nuzzling into his shoulder. He stretches, then wraps his arms around me, nearly purring in contentment. I'm tempted to nap on him; I'm so sated I could easily fall asleep like this. His laughter jostles me a bit.

"I think I could get used to this," he tells me. "Do feel free to greet me this way any time you'd like."

"Careful. I might take you up on that." I rub my cheek against his shoulder, then turn my face so I can start leaving soft kisses and bites across his skin.

He murmurs approval. "Did you want to stay in bed all night, then? Or are you hungry for other kinds of nourishment?"

I smile, planting another kiss on his shoulder. "I'm happy here." Another lick, another light nip... "Unless you want dinner now."

Bail laughs and draws his fingertips up and down the curve of my spine. "It might not be a bad idea." He kisses the top of my head. "We have to build up our energy reserves, after all."

"Mmm. At the rate we're going, you're probably right." I pull back and give him a slow, lazy grin. "Any special requests tonight? Or shall I just improvise?"

Bail looks startled. "You're going to cook for me?"

I frown at him. "I thought that was the plan tonight. Would you rather go out?"

He reaches up and strokes the back of his fingers across my cheek. "You usually want to." That hand disappears from sight, and reappears -- oh -- gripped loosely around my cock. I grin at him. "But staying in has its benefits." He leers at me.

Leers? Where in the world did that look come from? It seems wrong, somehow -- it's certainly not a look I've seen on him before. I pull away a bit. "Um. Right. The kitchen, then?"

He gets in one last grope before I pull completely off the couch. He pouts a little at my absence, but stands up and wraps an arm around my waist, bending down to bite me gently on the shoulder. He is acting very strangely tonight. I thought I liked this at first, but then, I was thinking with my groin...

"Right, the kitchen."

I pull away and head to the kitchen. A glance over my shoulder tells me that Bail is watching me walk away, and is still leering at me. I walk into his kitchen and begin looking through his cabinets, the cooler, trying to decide what I can make for dinner. I hear him walk into the kitchen behind me. "Do you want...?"

"This is wonderful. My very own full-service chef." He leans back against the counter.

I straighten and frown at him. "What's the matter with you?" I ask.

He gives me a slightly puzzled look. "Nothing. I'm just following your lead. I like this new side of you." He comes forward and strokes a finger down the center of my chest. "It usually takes me until well after dinner to get your clothes off."

"I thought..." His hand is going lower, and it makes my breath catch in my chest. "I thought that was how you preferred it."

"Oh, no..." His hand slides over my hip, and he presses his body against mine again. "This is just fine."

I melt a little as he leans in and kisses me. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? I'd never imagined he could have this kind of -- panache. Even when we're alone. He's been so quiet before. I'm not complaining, though. It's nice to feel wanted this way.

He leans back, breaking the kiss. "You were talking about dinner..."

"Oh, yes." I smile at him. "I could make you a pasta with red sauce. How does that sound?"

His eyes are laughing at me, a bit, but he nods. "I'm always up for an adventure," he tells me. I can't imagine what he's talking about. I peer at his eyes for a second, wondering if he's had a few glasses of wine already, even though it's early in the evening. No obvious signs of intoxication -- I turn back around and bend over to pull out various implements from the cupboards.

Grope. I jump and look over my shoulder. Bail is looking entirely too satisfied with himself, and I'm convinced now: this is not like him. I pin him back against the counter. He looks startled.

"You don't need to get so jumpy!" he protests. I look carefully at his eyes. No -- he's not drunk, he's not high, as far as I can tell -- what is wrong with him? He looks faintly hurt. I let him go, and he pouts at me. It's adorable.

"You're not usually so pushy," I tell him, apologetic.

He sniffs. "Well, you're not usually so eager. My mistake."

I sigh. Despite the shift in attitude, apparently I can still manage to say the wrong thing and piss him off. There's a talent I'd love to be rid of. I turn back to the pots, pans, knives, cutting board.

Bail puts a hand on my shoulder. "Do you want some help with dinner?" he asks.

Help? He's going to help me? He told me the first time I cooked for him that he can't even boil water. Maybe he just wants to keep me company. I grin. "I'm not planning on making anything that comes out of a box, so you'll be slightly out of your element. But you're welcome to just watch."

"I'm quite happy to watch," he says, and his voice sounds a little calmer.

I turn back to him, and he's smiling again. I smile back. "Good. I like it when you watch me." I remember the way he watched me at Rising when we were just starting to get to know each other, and smirk at him.

It doesn't take me long to boil pasta and start the red sauce. Bail even has fresh herbs and very high-quality spices, which I chop and add to the sauce, stirring the sauce occasionally with a long-handled spoon. It occurs to me that for someone who doesn't cook very often, Bail has a very high-quality assortment of cooking tools. Did his apartment come with them, or has he had lovers who offered to cook for him before? The thought makes me just jealous enough to ask. I try to keep my tone light. "How long has it been since you've had a naked full-service chef volunteer to cook you dinner?" I ask, attempting to tease him.

He takes the bait and teases back. "It's been far too long, I must say." He leans over my shoulder and picks up the spoon, blowing lightly on the sauce to cool it and then tasting it, his tongue flicking out seductively and doing something ridiculously suggestive to the utensil. It nearly makes me blush, which is saying quite a lot.

I'm rattled, which is the only explanation I have for my next comment: "What are you on?"

"On?" He keeps licking the spoon. "I don't know what you mean. This could use a pinch of Klatooinian saffron."

I look at him, surprised. "Let me taste it." I flick my tongue out and catch a bit of the sauce myself. "You're right, it could." I look through his spices and find the saffron, and drop a pinch into the sauce. I'm amazed he even knows what Klatooinian saffron is. Is he on something, or is this just a side of him I'm not familiar with yet? "I don't mind. I'm just surprised. Where have you been all day?"

"Don't mind what?" He puts the spoon down and flicks his tongue over the curve of my ear. I jump a bit. "I've been at a meeting of the Nomination and Restructuring Committee all day long." He bites my earlobe, making me shiver. "I'm ready to relax a bit." His lips graze over my shoulder, and as much as I like it, this feels off. He's not acting like the Bail I know.

I turn around and cup his face in my hands. "Something's not right," I murmur. I've looked into his eyes twice tonight, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong with him; I still can't see anything there.

No, not quite true; now I see hurt and confusion in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?" he asks.

"Me? What's gotten into you? You're acting like someone dropped Xyrem into your drink at work." I'm worried, now -- who would have done something like that to him? How long has he been like this? Xyrem, at its worst, can take up to eight hours to wear off. "Are you all right?"

Bail stiffens and pulls away from me. "You don't have to get nasty just because I'm glad to see you. I'm fine."

Fuck. How do I always manage to say the wrong thing to people? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--" I break off, shaking my head. "I'm sorry." I reach out for him again and try to hold him. His jaw is set, but he lets me wrap my arms around him anyway.

"It's all right," he murmurs. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. I missed you." I stumble over another apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything -- I'm just not used to seeing you like this."

Bail looks down at me, and I look up at him; he's smiling again. "You missed me?" he asks. I nod. "That's nice." He brushes his lips across my forehead. "I like being missed."

"Don't enjoy it too much," I warn, only half-teasing. "I don't want you to disappear on me anymore."

He looks puzzled. "I won't disappear on you."

It's always an effort trying to figure out what the hell is going on with him. Sometimes more than others. I decide not to worry about it for the moment, and pull him down to kiss me. He kisses back with enthusiasm. I melt into him, and the world fades away as I run my fingers down his arms, down his sides, and clutch at his hips. I'm getting hard again, and...

He pulls away. "So..." He clears his throat. "What about your attempt to poison me, here?" He gestures at dinner.

I frown. The way he was licking the spoon earlier, I didn't think I'd done that badly with the sauce. "I thought you enjoyed having me cook for you." I turn back to the sauce and taste it myself. It seems fine to me. Maybe more basil...

Bail slides a hand over my ass and gropes me. "I love your chef uniform," he says. I give him a grin over my shoulder and taste the sauce again. No, it's nearly perfect. I should just let it simmer for a while. "Even if your culinary skills leave something to be desired." I turn around again and frown at him. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's all in the presentation!"

"You could have said something when I made you breakfast," I tell him, my tone a bit frosted. "I've been cooking for Qui since--" I stop, realizing I've never mentioned Qui to Bail, not by name, at any rate. "I've been cooking for my master since I was fourteen, and haven't poisoned him yet." I turn back to the sauce.

Bail wraps his arms around my waist and drops his chin on my shoulder. "I don't mean to complain. I'm happy that you'd even want to try to cook for me." He hesitates, and I can feel him wanting to say something else, but it takes him some time to work up to it. "How is Master Jinn?"

I spin around fast enough that his chin scrapes hard across my shoulder, scratching me a bit. "How did you know?" I ask. "I didn't tell you--"

"What?" He looks startled. "Did something happen to him?"

"Have you been asking your Senate spies to check up on me?" I glare at him.

He glares right back. "I've done nothing of the kind. It was an innocent enough question."

"Innocent?" I repeat. "Bringing up my master's name is an innocent question? How did you even know his -- have I mentioned him in my sleep?" I half-groan at the thought. I don't think I talk in my sleep, but I haven't had enough sleepmates to know for certain.

The look he's leveling at me is cold enough to freeze me solid. "No. You've always been quite discreet about not saying his name at the wrong time."

At the...? Is he joking? "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I ask. My mouth feels dry. What is he talking about? That cold look is cutting into me. I feel numb.

"You know what it means," he says. His voice is calm, neutral, like the first night we met, but I can see something else in his eyes now; I know him just well enough to know when he's covering something. This thought brings me no comfort at all as he continues, "Don't worry; I don't mind when people scream the wrong name when they're coming."

Could I possibly have done that? I've been more concerned about not calling out for Bail while Qui is fucking me lately. "I've never -- I wouldn't -- for fuck's sake, Bail." I try to reach out for him, but he moves away from me.

"I know you wouldn't. You're ever so considerate."

Don't panic. What the fuck did I do? What is he talking about? Don't lose it, Kenobi -- this is all a horrible misunderstanding, and you will sort it out. "I don't understand," I tell him, trying to enunciate, to make my words as clear as possible. "I don't know what you're talking about. Qui doesn't even know I'm here."

The look in his eyes could vaporize duracrete. "Your discretion knows no bounds! So he doesn't even know about us? This is all some big secret?" He is furious, now -- I've never seen him this way. It's shocking, and it hurts -- how did this happen? What did I say? "I'm not into illicit affairs," he finishes. He crosses his arms over his chest.

It's too much. "You're not into -- what was all that about not wanting tabloids to catch you with a padawan, then?" I spit out.

"You're the one who didn't want the tabloids to catch us!" he fires back.

"I didn't--?"

"I've always been very careful since then. You have nothing to complain about."

"Since when?" I ask, mind whirling. What is he talking about? Does he think I care about the tabloids?

"Ever since the opera!" The opera? "But your master is another matter. Since when have you felt the need to hide all this from him? I thought he knew all about us."

Why would he think... What the hell is wrong with him? I shake my head. "No, I haven't -- I haven't told him. I've told a couple of my friends. That's all--"

He's continuing, biting out words over mine. "Or are you pretending to him that you're still in love with him? Ever-faithful, long-suffering Obi-Wan!"

What the fuck did he just say to me?

Pretending to Qui that...?

I can't stay here and listen to this. I stalk out of the kitchen and head back for the trail of clothes I left in the entrance to his apartment, pulling on undergarments, reaching for my pants.

Bail isn't finished; he follows me out of the kitchen, still furious with me. "All right, go back to your true love with Qui-Gon. Forget all about me. I was just a consolation fuck, wasn't I?"

"Bail, stop. Just fucking stop now." I have to get out of here. Have to get out of here before I lose it, before I fall apart. Consolation fuck? Does he have any idea what he's meant to me? Force, I have to leave. I can't stay here. I can't do this.

"Oh, yes, you're right. Our three weeks is up anyway."

My eyes snap back to him again. "Three weeks?"

"Yes, you know: my relationships never last more than three weeks." The cold neutrality of his voice is gone now, and he's spitting out words, bitterly. "Isn't that why you agreed to sleep with me in the first place? You knew it wouldn't last very long?"


"Wouldn't interfere with your infinite pining for your master?"

This again! Why does he keep bringing up Qui? "What makes you think I pine for my master? And why would you care if I did?"

"Oh, of course! Forgive me. I knew how you felt about your master when I got involved with you. I had fair warning."

"How I feel about Qui--" I shake my head. "You're being ridiculous. I simply don't have that kind of emotional attachment to my master."

"You don't? What about all that I'm in love with my master but he doesn't return my feelings?"

Has he gone completely insane? "I've never said that. I'd never say that."

"You sure as hell did -- said it any number of times!" He raises his hand to his forehead and mimicks my accent. "Oh, I love my master! Oh, he doesn't love me! All right, Bail, I'll fuck you since I have nothing better to do!"

He has gone mad. Or -- I grab him and tackle him to the floor, pinning him down. Or he's a very bad imposter of the man I've been seeing. "Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck have you done with Bail Organa?" Bail. Oh, fuck. What's he done with Bail? What is he doing here? What does he want?

The Bail imposter under me struggles against me, and his eyes are absolutely black with fury. "Let go of me!" he yells. "What do you think you're doing? What have you done with Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan. He's called me Obi-Wan all night long. "Enough. Whoever you are, you're not Bail. Bail doesn't call me Obi-Wan."

"Of course I do!" he sputters, then goes cold again. "Or do you prefer 'Padawan Kenobi'?"

"What did I call you when we first met?" I ask him.

The look on his face turns to complete confusion. "Senator Organa. But you always like to call me Your Highness."

"Your Highness?" I repeat. "Your information is spotty, your imitation is clumsy..." And I don't know who he is, where he comes from, or what he wants. I try, desperately, to calm down. "I can help you. Whatever you need, whatever you want -- just tell me what you've done with Bail."

"What I need?" he repeats. "What is going on? Who are you?"

I stare at him. He looks confused, surprised -- but sincere.

He's not lying.

Whoever he is, he thinks he's Bail Organa.

Force -- what if he is?

"Do you think you could possibly let go of me?" he asks, quietly. I rear back, letting him up, half-collapsing on the floor next to him. I kissed him -- I made love to him -- and he's not Bail. He is, but... Force.

"You're not my Bail, are you?" I ask him.

"I -- um. I think not. And you sure as hell aren't my Obi-Wan." He looks at me cautiously. "Are you some kind of... evil Obi-Wan clone?"

I have to laugh at that. "If I'm the evil Obi-Wan clone, you must be the oversexed Bail clone." He tries to look offended and doesn't quite pull it off. "Let me think for a moment. I took a taxi here from the Temple. There was a new security procedure..."

"Yes, it's some kind of scanning beam that uses deuteron particles," he says helpfully. "They've been having problems with it."

"I don't suppose you have any idea what deuteron particles are?" I ask. He shakes his head with a bit of a grin. I go back to retracing the beginning of the evening. "I stepped through the scanning beam and passed out. The guards helped me up..." I stop suddenly. "The other guard helped me up. The guard who was on my side of the beam was on the other side, at the desk. The guard who was behind the desk was on my side of the beam..." This sounds too ridiculous for words. I shut up.

"Maybe the beam messed with your brain," Bail offers. I glare at him. He shrugs. "Tell me when you first noticed something was wrong."

"When you called me 'Obi-Wan'," I admit, "though I was a bit distracted at the time. And all the things you said about Qui..." I shake my head. "This doesn't make any sense. It's as if we have completely different memories of our lives. Do you remember when we first met?"

He gives me a very odd look. "We met at the planning committee for the Cloning Ethics Conference."

"How intolerably dull," I smirk. "I met Bail Organa at a sex club called Rising."

Bail's jaw drops, and he stares at me in utter shock. "Obi-Wan would never go to a sex club!" he stammers. "Not in this reality!"

I give him a wry grin. "Perhaps we're from different realities."

"That's insane."

"I agree."

"Entirely insane."

"I'm not arguing."

He exhales slowly. "On the other hand, it makes every bit as much sense as thinking you're an evil Obi-Wan clone." He ponders for a moment. "Maybe... you got teleported into some kind of alternate universe?" He throws up his hands when I start laughing at him again. "I saw that happen in a Rogue Jedi movie!" he offers.

We both laugh for a few seconds. I feel very tired, and I shake my head as I look around Bail's apartment. "I don't suppose there's another Bail Organa in this apartment somewhere?" I ask.

"Erm. No." He smiles at me. "And despite your many charms, I really prefer my Obi-Wan."

"I'll try not to let that remark damage my self-image," I snort. "I think I prefer my Bail, too, despite your many charms." I look him over slowly, remembering how he bent me over the back of the couch and slid into me. I'm still feeling it. My cock twitches. I grin at him.

He looks away briefly, then looks back. "I can't picture my Obi-Wan in a sex club. You, on the other hand..."

Oh, he's -- very hot. He's looking at me like that again, like he wants me to want him. "I would have said the same thing about my Bail. He isn't the type. He just watched. He enjoyed watching me." I move closer to him on the floor. "He told me his name was Gana, and when I offered to buy him a drink, he trailed his hand down my braid and told me he didn't fuck Jedi."

"How very foolish," Bail says, voice sounding slightly strained. He pauses. "So, 'Gana,' eh? That's clever; I'll have to remember that." He moves closer to me, looking at me from under his very... long... eyelashes... Force. He smiles at me. Oh... fuck, he's beautiful, my Bail or not. He comes closer still, eyes locked on mine. "So are you quite fond of this Gana?"

"Yes," I tell him. He's at my side now, and -- oh, he's still naked. His skin is golden, as gold as my Bail's, and he looks frighteningly appealing. Fond of Gana? I care about him in a way I've never wanted to care about anyone before. And this man next to me, who shares Bail's face if not his personality -- he's having a profound, if hormonal, effect on me.

He gives me this amazing slow grin, and it makes me want to promise him anything in the world, anything at all. My brain is beginning to collect in my groin. "I'm glad to hear it," he murmurs. He reaches out and begins unbuttoning my shirt, running his fingertips over my skin. I have to close my eyes. "Is he a good lover?" Bail asks.

I moan. "He's amazing," I whimper. His fingertips on my chest are marking trails of heat on my skin, and I lean back hard on my hands to keep from jumping him.

Bail laughs. I look at him. His grin is quite smug now. "It seems I retain certain qualities no matter what universe I'm in."

I have a sudden vision of this Bail in Rising, hunting. It is entirely too easy to picture. I had a difficult enough time resisting the urge to drag Bail home with me the first night we met; if he'd been acting like this...

Bail pauses, then looks at me oddly. "Do you think your Bail is fucking my Obi-Wan in some other universe right now?"

I blink hard. It would be ridiculous to be jealous of that. I think. "I... don't know," I manage.

"Well, we shouldn't let them have all the fun, should we?" this Bail grins at me.

"No... that is..."

Bail leans close and nuzzles my neck, and I close my eyes again, panting. "I have a very comfortable bed in the next room. You really ought to examine it more closely. It could give you a clue to the differences between this reality and yours." He brings a hand up and curls my braid around his finger, something my Bail would never do, and pulls my face to his. He kisses me again.

I take his wrist in my hand and remove his fingers from my braid. "That's one difference," I tell him. "My Bail doesn't have the traditional padawan braid fetish."

He smirks at me. "My Obi-Wan believes in foreplay."

I push him to his back and start licking a trail down his chest. He grunts and shifts uncomfortably under me. "In the interest of scientific inquiry, I do think we should continue exploring our differences..."

I circle his nipple with my tongue. "Mmm?"

"...and in the interest of not throwing my back out, I think we should continue that exploration in bed."

I laugh. "An excellent idea." I help him up, and he leads me to his bedroom. It's the same bedroom my Bail has, but the man in it is different. I should have known the moment I saw him, really. I wonder what my Bail would think of what I'm doing here. I wonder if he's fucking the other Obi-Wan right now.

Bail pulls me into bed, and I go willingly. I don't think I'll be thinking much more tonight.


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