No regrets

Rating: R / NC 17

Archive: Pandora’s Box - anyone else (WHAT? You’re crazy enough to want this? Floors me - but: Sure!) Just ask. :o) )

Spoilers: Hm. I don’t think there are any - you saw TPM and AOTC, didn’t you? If not (gosh - where have you been living the last few years anyway?) go - do so before you read this. :o) Even though GL’s TPM Obi kinda sucked in terms of sexiness in the first movie. I’m gonna give him the ‘extremely cute’ award, though. *g* Now, the AOTC Obi is a whole different matter . . .

Summary: " . . . there had to be a way make him forget to be his normally so very uptight and stand-offish self . . ."

Disclaimer: Now, come on - be realistic. Of course I’m not earning any money from this - who would give me any? For this? *snorts* I just like to play with the characters GL has created (and then decided not to do anything really interesting with them. *g* ) No, don’t cry, George. I still adore what you’ve done - and I’m deeply grateful for you doing it. *g*

Feedback: Yes. Even though I fear the outcome of this plea - but please. PLEASE! Come on - writing two lines and then hitting the "send" button isn’t all that hard, now is it?

Author's Note: No connection whatsoever to my previous story

I just wanted to test the waters, see if I could write something that was rated "a bit higher" as well. Hm. Ya think it worked?

Oh - and this plot bunny attacked me on the train. For crying out loud, on the TRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, well. Go ahead and laugh at my misery.

Warning: Okay - now if you’ve found this story and know my previous work - don’t be shocked. I’m not gonna be writing this kind of fic all day long. Promise. :o)

Dedication: Yvonne - your fault, solely, sweetheart. :o) I started writing this one just for your new site. And Sleepwalker - because you encouraged me and helped me more than you can ever imagine in terms of not being shy. :o) (Think it worked? Doubtful, Watson, doubtful . . .)

***

There's definitely, definitely, definitely
no logic
to human behaviour
but yet so, yet so . . . irresistible"

(Björk - Human behaviour)

***

Colours blurred as the people crowded the room - the light tapping of their feet on the shiny floor as they danced, the sound of their laughter, mingling with the deep rhythmic pounding of the music. The air was humid and warm, filled with the scent of the bodies pressing together and the scent of the spices all of the small finger-food trays were dusted with.

People knew what those spices were, what secrets they hid. They mildly loosened the inhibitions, heightening the senses to smell, touch, sound and sight, deepening the sensual side of everyone tasting the small delicacies.

Shrugging, he popped one of the small squares into his mouth and enjoyed the sensation of the spices exploding on his tongue, leaving a sweet aftertaste. This was not going to affect him, he was sure - he had been trained to cope with mild drugs. The taste of it, though . . . Just for an instant he had felt the heated rush of the spices, had seen their power, before he had thrust it back. Losing control was not an option.

A friend had invited him - and he was beginning to wonder why. The atmosphere was charged with the hum of recognition floating through the room, the unshielded minds throwing out sparkling electricity into the Force.

Checking his mask for the umpteenth time, he exhaled slightly. It was still in place - no one was recognising him as he moved through the crowds of people, slowly and gracefully.

Indignation about constantly controlling himself welled up inside of him. Sith, he didn't even know what actually had made him come here, especially since coming here had asked for a lot: A mask, a voice-modulator and a close fitting black outfit which he had been given. It hadn’t taken him all too long to pick the mask, but the voice modulator had taken some getting used to. But it served its purpose, masking his natural voice perfectly, turning it into a deeper, less accentuated one.

This night, his friend had told him, was a night in which you let your usual personality outside the entrance door. The night of the two moon’s eclipses and its concept was unique to him and he couldn’t have say that he had been quite clear on the concept until now.

Until now.

Watching the people move through the room, the lights low, the faces hidden behind mysterious, breathtakingly beautiful masks, their sensual dances, their bodies close, their carefree laughter, he felt the overwhelming current of playfulness that reverberated in the living Force nudging him, teasing him. It slowly managed to ease his doubts about this certain event. He felt no darkness, no evil, nothing. Nothing but the minds of all those individuals, throwing out their energy, their passion into the Force.

He couldn’t help but thinking about her. Thinking about her warm smiles, her lithe movements, her deeply sensual aura . . . Thinking about what had been revealed to him two years ago - her true age, so close to his own, making her suddenly desirable in a way that still made him shiver inside and curse himself. The way he would never be able to hold her the way he wanted to, because she was not within his reach.

For a while he mused why his friend had made him come here at all. Had she known how all of this was going to affect him? Had she done it on purpose?

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the men and women; the men clad in black while all of the women wore deep emerald coloured garments, close fitting, not hiding anything, but not giving away too much either.

There was a reason for the relative uniformity in these garments. This was not a night of regrets. The uniformity was vital for those men and women who wished to stay anonymous.

His musings continued. All of the people had left their usual personality in front of the door. Why hadn’t he?

"Stop scowling."

A low hiss next to him reminded him of his friend’s presence.

"Get in the mood. Open your eyes."

He sighed indignantly. "I assure you, they are quite open," he replied dryly.

"I very much doubt that."

His chin was seized in a slim hand and turned towards the dancefloor. "Either your eyes are closed, or you are completely blind."

Seeing what the woman holding his chin was motioning towards, his eyes widened. She picked up on that and grinned, satisfied.

"You need to get all of that unresolved tension out of your system. You need to forget her. Get it over with. Do what your body tells you to do. Remember: No regrets. This is just one night. One which will most likely not come back for the next century. Only one night in which everything is allowed." She released his chin and allowed her hand to skid over his face, tapping his masked forehead slightly.

"Not here."

Her hand moved down to his heart and then, just as he thought he’d gotten enough of a hint to be comfortable with, further down to his groin.

"Here."

A smug grin, and she was gone in a whirl of emerald and feathers.

Under the mask, he could feel himself blushing. She was sweet and innocent at times, nearly making him forget what a little devil was hidden behind the beautiful face. And maybe - not that he would ever admit it to her - just maybe she was right. Just what was so wrong about trying to be normal for a change? To act on his instincts, rather than ignoring them for the greater good? To purge her images, still floating around his mind, with the picture of someone else?

He sat down on one of the black chairs that surrounded the bar and looked at the dancing people.

When he finally found the woman his friend had showed him earlier again, he drew in a sharp breath. Now that was . . .

He quickly sipped at his drink.

The woman dancing on the far end of the crowd was undreamt of. Long, jet-black hair moved in wild curls around her masked face as she danced untamed and carefree with her eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the hungry stares she was eliciting. The tight emerald dress she was wearing was just a little different from the ones of the other women; not enough to be recognised by a mere bystander, but definitely made to be seen by the one she had chosen to show it to. The mask covering only her forehead, eyes and nose was an elaborate mixture of gems and gold, hints of wine-red velvet and feathers in a deep shade of oceanic blue. He thanked all the powers in this universe that this mask didn’t cover her lips. Full, deep red lips, worth every sin he could think of.

He swallowed hastily, realising that his hand had cramped around the bar, knuckles turning white. It was so hard, trying not to imagine that this could be her - that those could be her lips, smiling in that dangerous way that made his breath hitch. Letting go of the bar proved to be quite an effort, for she chose that very moment to open her eyes.

He was falling. Clearly and hopelessly falling into those eyes - even though they were opening about 10 meters away from him, he could see them as the pools into depths never explored, into waters which were so deep that he might drown in them.

Green. An intense green, piercing his soul. Making absolutely clear that this wasn’t her, that it never could be. This wasn’t the brown he had been hoping for. But what did it matter? Why didn’t he just stop thinking and start acting on what his friend had told him? Enjoy himself, finally getting her out of his head, his every thought, his very blood?

A pleased smile appeared on the masked face and she slowly wet her lips with a small, spade-shaped, pinkish tongue. Wetting perfectly shaped lips. It was enough to confirm his decision.

Probing her carefully with his skilled mind, he found that her imprint in the living Force was barely there - her shielding tight. Remarkable. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the challenge she would be.

She was trailing a hand over her thighs, no doubt to smooth a crease in the gown. Yet the simple movement made his heart quicken. She stared directly at him, transfixing him with a deep green gaze, repeating the movement more slowly.

He realised that he had stopped breathing. Was she doing this on purpose? Did she realise that he was watching her? Had she realised his probing?

A wink of the green cat-eyes gave him the answer he needed.

It took him all the strength he had to force a smile, for his jaw kept insisting that dropping to the ground was a good idea.

The smile that he got in return nearly made him hit the wall.

'Who ever said a flirt wasn't dangerous?', he thought, having trouble not to fall off his chair when she slowly walked up to him.

Her movements were dangerously sensual and slightly feral - just like her dance, slow strides, showing the sway of her hips. The crowd parted in front of her, as though they were feeling the immediate demanding of respect this delicate beauty called for.

Spellbound by her moves, he became oblivious to everything and everyone around him.

His hands frantically searched for the bar to hold onto again, then found his glass and decided that it was a good moment to have a quick shot before he was actually trying to say something. He knocked his glass over in his haste, cringing as it fell to the ground with an audible clink. 'Get a grip, Kenobi. Breathe.'

By the time he looked up from the floor, she was gone. His eyes flew over the dancers, but he couldn't find her. Frustration gnawed at him.

'So much for my charms', he thought wryly. ‘Never think of yourself as all too important.'

Maybe it was about time to call it a night, and try some of those Katas which had bugged him all week long. Maybe that would bring him to his senses. Or this visual overload was going kill him if he ever dared move off this chair again. he should have known that it wasn’t so easy to forget someone he had been dreaming about for more than two years now.

His control slipped as he tried to purge her image from his mind, tried to make the blood flow back to the places where it was needed, instead of still flowing to the places where it was most inconvenient right now.

One drink and then home.

No. Definitely not his night.

He was just about to order another drink, when the touch of a soft female chin on his shoulder and her breath on his neck caused him to jump.

"Care to dance, Mister?" a husky female voice asked, soft accent stretching the word dance.

The air left his lungs in a whoosh as his whole body tensed up. 'Say something.'

"Lost your voice?" Warm breath brushed past his collar, making it feel too tight. The sound of her voice made it hard for him to concentrate on what she said.

"Not quite." ‘Very eloquent, Kenobi,’ he chided himself. Deciding that it was time he took advantage of the situation, he turned around with a flourish, took her hand and smiled: "You’ve got yourself a partner."

He made a mental note to thank his friend for knocking him on his ass.

They moved to the dancefloor - and again the crowd made way for her until they both found a spot in the middle of the heated bodies around them, turning their attention to each other.

"When were you planning on acting on your thoughts?" The husky voice drifted closer as she circled him.

He tensed fiercely at the implication. Had he been broadcasting? When had his shields become so weak? Most of all - did she know what he had been trying to do?

A low laugh reached his ear when she saw the deep blush colouring his cheeks, her full lips revealing a perfect line of white teeth, glittering in the dim light of the hall. "Gotcha."

By the Force, just looking at those lips made his thoughts fall into a dizzy haze that covered every coherent thought that might have been left in his mind. Her aura swirled around him, sensuous, dangerous. The music slowed to a softer song, still carried by a pounding bass and he watched with amazement as she came closer to him with a smile on her face that was nothing short of devilish.

Not a second later she was pressed against him full length, not an inch separating their bodies, and he had to suppress a low moan at the feel of her warm curves pressing against him. This wasn't the way he was used to when dealing with women, but some rather basic instincts told him not to care about that and enjoy it as long as it lasted.

He started to lose his contact with reality, when her face inched closer to his ear breathing a sharp hiss into the shell: "No regrets." Placing his hand on her waist, she moved her own hands down to caress the small of his back and behind slowly.

He drew in a sharp breath. This was getting too much. The long legs all but twined with his as they danced, her hands rapidly started descending to places of which she just had no right to know about - no matter how much he wanted her there.

"I . . ." A pathetic croak was all he could squeeze out of his suddenly much too dry throat. Swallowing, he tried again: "I don't want to seem rude, but shouldn't we know each others names, before we go any . . ."

Her hand ascended from its place under his shirt to put a warm index finger over his lips.

"Names are not important," she whispered in his ear, tracing its form with the tip of a soft tongue.

"Well then," he said, suppressing a shiver and realising once again that his voices sounded hoarse. He was at a loss. What had happened to his famous ability to make a witty remark in every possible situation? Shaking himself out of his stupor, he said: "There are two possibilities: One, I tell you something I was always told: Never talk to strangers, especially not when you don’t know their intentions."

That incredible smile lit up her face again as she roamed her hand over his chest, teasing the tender skin of his nipples until it all but screamed for her touch. "And two?"

"We get out of here as fast as possible."

The smile was just in her eyes this time - flashing up at him. Acting as a promise of things to come.

"I’ll consider that," she answered and pulled away from him, leaving him to fight the hormonal disaster the closeness of her body had caused.

***

"Who is she?" His voice was low and flat when he grabbed his friend roughly by the arm, pulling her out of the immediate reach of a guy looming over her.

"Kenobi, you’re a damn killjoy," she scowled up at him, flashing the guy behind her an apologetic smile. "What’s wrong with you? Didn’t I tell you to have fun?"

Her eyes raked over his figure and she noticed with delight the way the clothes she had provided him with accentuated his body - muscles stretching taut over a lithe frame almost without effort, deepening the grace he carried himself with. Although she was his friend, she was far from being blind. She knew the way thoughts of that body had given sleepless nights to many women close to her. Too bad that he was dreaming of someone else . . .

Suddenly she sniffed and her eyes widened under the half-mask. "You went for it, didn’t you? Or do you usually wear a woman’s perfume?"

Shaking his head and tightening his grasp on her arm, he ground out: "Listen, Sabé, don’t play with me. Who. Is. She?"

The young woman’s eyes sparkled at the fierce determination in his voice. "Are we talking about . . . her?" She pointed at the dancefloor and a grin slowly spread over her features, when she felt his hand on her arm tightening. "Just when I thought you were a totally hopeless case . . ."

"Who?"

She shook her head and looked a bit defeated. "Can’t help you, I’m afraid. I don’t know her."

She saw his clear eyes disappearing under the dark lashes and heard a sigh as he turned away from the dancefloor. Apparently his lady for the night had started dancing with someone else.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

"One smart-ass comment too many?" she offered, moving away from the playful swat he was aiming at her shoulder.

He looked dejected and slightly forlorn - making her heart constrict in pity.

"Come here." She motioned for him to get closer. "I’m very proud of you, you know that? You’re really doing well." Moving a soothing hand over his cheek, she tried to get his full attention.

"Well, does me a whole lot of good, doesn’t it?" His mood rapidly swirled into a dark, brooding scowl.

She sighed. As long as he didn’t think of the woman in his dreams right now, as long as he didn’t withdraw to his shell, there had to be a way make him forget to be his normally so very uptight and stand-offish self.

She reached for the tray next to her and retrieved one of the small squares.

"Open your mouth."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "This doesn’t work. You know that."

A smile tugged at her lips. "Really? Or do you just not want it to work?"

For a few seconds, he just stared at her - the gaze not giving away whether he was offended, annoyed or simply at a loss for words. Finally the deep green-blue eyes slipped close submissively.

"Do you have to give me this talk, too? You sound like Yoda." He sighed and opened his eyes again to gaze at her with a look of pity that could have melted rocks and would have felled every other woman in an instant.

Unfortunately she was about the only female totally immune to those looks.

"Know that right I am, you do." Hiding the gentle bribe in her words was impossible and he grinned down at her fragile form.

"One of these days . . .," he threatened good naturedly. Before he could finish the sentence, she had stuffed the small square into his mouth, closing it with two slim fingers.

"Nu-uh," she protested when he was about to pull her hand away to take the spicy, crispy cookie out of his mouth. "Chew. Enjoy. Don’t fight it."

Her eyes became threatening, spitting dark fire when he kept tugging at her hand. "For once in your life, Kenobi: Do as I tell you!"

Making her angry was not a good idea, never had been. He swallowed without thinking as he thought of the years he knew her, and knew about her temper - the spices exploding on his tongue again. This time he felt their heated rush.

"Happy now?"

The grin returned to her face, becoming a bit more suggestive. "It’s not supposed to make me happy, silly."

A blush crept up his cheek and she chuckled softly, resting her hand on his flushed cheeks and gingerly trailing her thumb over his lips, knowing fully well that she was the only one who could ever get away with this.

"Do it. And don’t think."

She pushed herself up lightly and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

A smile flickered across his features. "I’d still like to know who she is."

The delicate woman in front of him shook her head and sighed. Was he ever going to learn? "Remember that if she wants to remain anonymous, it’s her right to do so. But if you turn on those famous charms of yours, maybe she’ll tell you."

She winked at him and pushed him back to the dancefloor. "And please leave me alone for the rest of the night, could you do that?"

He flashed her a grin and disappeared in a cluster of people.

***

He saw her walking through the crowd of people, moving slowly and sensually in a way that made his whole body scream. Not usually being a man for a fast adventure, he couldn’t help himself this time. Maybe it was the second helping of the spices and he wasn’t quite so good at deflecting its effects after all. Maybe it was the day: The full eclipse of two moons triggering something in his body. Or maybe it was just the constant absence of a woman in his life. Here was a woman who could finally make him forget about the images that came up to plague him ever so often at night. Dreams that made him wake up soaked in sweat, calling out her name afterward, his skin sensitive to touch for hours. He had to do something to be rid of this obsession, or his most private thoughts would become obvious to others sooner or later.

He knew that what he was doing was wrong - wrong in the context of the moral restraints he had put on himself - for the Jedi order surely didn’t put its knights into celibacy.

Maybe Sabé had been right and he really hadn’t wanted the effects of the spices until now. But seeing her for the second time made him forget about that, for he wanted their effects now. Desperately wanted them.

He had known it was wrong from the very first moment he had looked into those green cat eyes of hers. Not that it did him any good, though. The thoughts brought back the memories of her delicate hands on his body and he was hard pressed not to simply push aside the people blocking his way. Without making a conscious decision, he followed her out of the main dancing hall, leaving the hot room into the slightly cooler, moister night air of the gardens.

She met him there, the dark curls dancing around her masked face and a slight lustre of perspiration glistening on her cleavage. He picked up on the way her warm skin smelled and mingled with her light perfume. He saw the way the green garment revealed more of her form than it had first appeared.

He couldn’t say how he managed, but somehow he found some words. "I’ll take it that you’re done considering?"

It was supposed to be a simple teasing, rather smart-ass comment, but it didn’t quite come out as one when he saw her slowly moving closer. This situation and all it could lead to was something he had missed for far too long in real life. The night held promises he only hoped it could keep. Hoped that he wouldn’t suddenly wake up to discover this was another dream.

He could hear his heart pounding in his ears when she circled him again - applying fleeting touches to his chest, his uncovered lips, his exposed neck and his behind.

This was unbearable.

Reaching out, he caught her by the waist, pulling her flush against his chest, eyes wild and hungry, telling her clearly that this was no game to him. She was taken aback for a moment, then he heard a throaty laugh bubble up and she threw her head back, allowing him access to the tender column of her neck.

His mouth slowly descended, nipping on her skin ever so softly, scraping the velvet-like tanned skin that pulled taut over high collar-bones with his teeth. For the first time, he felt her reacting to him, her hips moving closer to his, and her hands moving to his neck, holding him closer to her, shifting her body to give him better access to it.

Despite all the rushed urgency, the meeting of their lips was almost coy. She pulled back playfully several times, moving her head out of the range of his soft lips. When they finally met it was her decision - not his. Lips sliding against lips, softly playing, teasing.

Until he decided that he had had enough and urged her mouth open with persistent licks and bites.

He hadn’t been prepared for the sensation that followed: Hot, wet warmth, tasting sweet and spicy, clouding over his senses completely.

A thought crashed his mind: This was how she had always tasted in his dreams.

And just as though she had picked up on his mind wandering away from her, she grabbed for the back of his head; pulling him closer and deepening the kiss with a frustrated growl. She was sliding her tongue against his aggressively and pulled back in an instant, again and again - until his body was quivering with need.

He was hanging to the last shreds of his sanity when she finally gave in and allowed their kiss to resemble the passion that coursed through his body. His lips bruising hers, barely leaving her time to breathe, claiming her, marking her - now that she allowed it.

Low, soft sounds coming from her throat, her body warming up under his touch, her smell growing spicy - it was all he could take. Grabbing her waist tightly, he lifted her off the ground, moving her legs to twine around his back and moving them both until her back hit a wall and he could take advantage of all that wonderful skin.

He wanted to stay like this forever, nibbling and teasing her soft skin, eliciting sighs from her. He wanted to run away as the depths of his passion hit him - the way her images actually blurred the ever-present ones of a woman he would never have like this. But most of all, he wanted more. He wanted to finally get off that mask and look at her fully.

As he tried to fulfil his plan, she caught his hand, moving it away from her mask with quiet determination.

The smile tugging at her lips was definitely feral now. She moved her hips for just a fraction, slowly grinding against him, moving her hips slowly, languidly, brushing against him and she felt him stiffen even more than before, trying again to claim her lips.

Again she stopped him, placing a finger across his lips. Without thinking he pulled the slender, long finger into his mouth and she was rewarded with a hot wetness she was by now well familiar with from his kisses, teeth scraping along the line of her index-finger, tongue twirling lightly around it, acting as a promise of the things he had in mind.

But he was holding back still, still wasn’t showing all the passion he was capable of. Shaking her head in indignation, she moved her hand down to stroke him hard through the fabric of his dress pants, causing a low moan to rise from his throat, his hands clenching in her hips reflexively as he tried his best not to thrust back up at her.

"Don’t . . ." It was no more than a strangled plea, really. "Don’t do this to me."

Her hand stopped moving and she moved the other one to cup his face lightly, her eyes wide open and inquisitive. "What do you want, then?"

He slowly eased her to her feet and then trailed his hands to the back of her neck, where he knew the mask was fastened. "Let me see you."

Her hands shot up, letting go of his face and gripping his wrists like a vise. "No."

"Please." His mouth descended to her ear, softly breathing in the words over and over again, like a chant. His right hand moved possessively to cup her breast, teasing slow circles over the sensitive skin still hidden under the green fabric of her gown.

"No." It didn’t sound quite as strong anymore.

"Please."

His hands wandered down her body - and with a movement that was too fast to register, her skirt was hitched up to her waist, giving him full access to her long legs. For a nanosecond he saw fear flickering up in her eyes at his suddenly so very demanding behaviour. The flicker disappeared, though, when he latched his hands onto her thighs, the friction of skin against skin clouding over the green eyes with urgent need.

"Let. Me. See. You."

Each word was being punctuated by his hand moving just a fraction higher on her thighs, coming closer to where he felt incredible heat rising. His eyes pierced hers deeply.

"No."

Her voice definitely wasn’t steady anymore, but her determination was still there - unwavering.

"You’d have to come up with something far better, to . . ."

The rest of her sentence drowned in a helpless whimper when he touched her, somehow bypassed her underwear and touched her so intimately that it was all she could do not to cry out.

Finding her scorchingly warm and ready for him, he eased nimble fingers over her most sensitive areas - fleeting touches that made her whimper for more.

"Good enough?" he teased, moving achingly slow - to finally dive his slim finger into her. She stiffened for a fraction of a second and the incredible eyes that had just been mocking him fluttered shut. A breathy moan escaped her as she felt him moving deeper into her and she started writhing against his hand, urging him to fulfil what this slow torture was promising.

Her reaction made him quiver with need and he inserted another finger, stretching her, mimicking the way he would take her, moving possessively inside of her and along spots only someone familiar with her body should have known. Sharp intakes of breath accentuated the heat he felt from her.

Her hands moved to his hips, frantically searching for the fastening of his pants, brushing against his straining flesh.

What did he think he was doing, torturing her in return for his own torment? His breathing sped up, not quite elegant for his task. Not now. Not now!

Good grief - those lips. He had to have those lips . . . With a quick dip he submitted to his own urges and pulling her delicate hands away from their price, he dove for her lips, opening them in a frenzied kiss, leaving her breathless, panting. Her reactions towards him were most arousing - the erratic breathing, the way her body arched to meet his steadily thrusting fingers, the barely comprehensible moans . . .

"Obi-Wan."

The low whisper under her breath suddenly made him stop moving, an icy shiver creeping up his spine. Despite his more than slightly clouded over mind and distinctly straining body-parts a feeling of dread ran over him. His whole body went rigid. Why did this perfect stranger know his name?

"What did you say?"

Her eyes flew open and she felt the need to cry out in loss as his fingers stopped moving and then quickly moved out of her to ascend to his own mask. Without taking much time, he simply discarded it, revealing red-golden eyebrows accentuating a handsome young face and shocked blue-green eyes which reached for hers.

"Let me see your face."

The aura of danger around her faded slowly and slight fear rose into the green cat-eyes. "No."

"You knew who I was. I think I have a right to know who you are." His voice seemed to be light and teasing, but there was an undercurrent in it - dangerous and clearly stating that he was doing his damnedest to keep his temper in check.

For a few seconds he allowed himself to enjoy the slight look of fear in her eyes.

Still, he wasn’t taking the mask off her face himself. This control wouldn’t be worth anything, though, if she didn’t obey his wish soon. The need to find out who was hidden under that mask, to find out who had just driven him thoroughly out of his mind was overwhelming.

His gaze burned into hers, demanding obedience - accepting nothing else.

Finally, what seemed like eternities later, she moved her slightly trembling hands to the back of her head and slowly pulled the mask down, hiding her face in the mass of dark curls.

"Look. At. Me." There was no denying him, and he knew it. This certain tone of voice had made politicians and royalties rush to obedience.

Her face rose slowly, so slowly that he could take in every feature of the face that had been hidden behind the mask, inch by inch. Perfect, unblemished, pale skin. Royally arched eyebrows. Deep, chocolate coloured eyes with long lashes. A small, shapely nose. Full red lips, not quite hiding a quiver of fear.

He reached for the next best thing to steady himself, gripping her biceps tightly. This wasn’t possible. He had to be dreaming again. He had to be dreaming. Just had to. For if this was real, he deserved death or worse . . . .

"Padme?!"

Clearly shocked, he let go of her, all but pushing her away from him. "What do you think you’re doing?"

While still fighting his own body, screaming at him to forget about his mind and touch her again, he also felt slight nausea rise at the thought of what he, they, had done. Why hadn’t he felt it before? He never would have . . .

Fighting the sting upon hearing those words, she smiled bravely. "No regrets, Obi-Wan."

Suddenly Sabé’s words echoed in his mind. "Only once in a century."

How many nights during the last years - since he had found out about his mistake about her age - had he been lying awake, dreaming of this? Dreaming of her body writhing under his, of her whispering his name in the throes of passion? How many hours had he spent watching her from the shadows, from the corner of his eye - whenever possible? Then why . . . why was he still thinking about whether he wanted to take the chance or not? Now that he knew for more than a year that she was barely two years younger than he was? Now that all of his dreams were - at least legally - open to fulfilment? Now that she was acknowledging his feelings?

"Why?" He had to know. There was no way around it. Still his body betrayed him, and his fingers started rubbing small circles on her wrists. It was all he could do to not simply pull her close to him again. He quivered inside. She was too close to him, too damn close to keep his hands off her.

She inched her body closer, growing bold by the way he already started to relax towards her.

"Because I . . ." She stopped and hid her face again, suddenly getting shy for some insane reason which made him want to give a snort of laughter.

Now she was going shy on him? The circles he was rubbing on her wrists became bigger as he relished more and more in the feeling of her soft skin - suddenly available to his touch. The words she whispered under her breath were so low that he nearly missed them. But it was the earnestness in them which made him stop dead in his tracks.

"I wanted you. Tonight was the only chance I saw to ever have you."

The confession sent him reeling. She wanted him?

Reaching for the back of his head, she claimed his mouth in a kiss that was feathery soft and so much more like he had always dreamed their first kiss to be like. All soft lips and scented warmth, holding nothing of the feral danger that had surrounded her earlier. This was her, and this was her gift to him. She was laying her feelings open for him to examine - yearning, loneliness, passion, fear . . . But there was more to that kiss - despair. She didn’t only want him. She needed him. Had needed him for far too long.

This time was over now. He knew it by the way her hands moved into his hair and her heart beat close to his. By the way her breathing became shallow and ragged whenever they came up for air. By the way she encouraged him to take her - body, mind and soul. She was giving her consent through the Force, finally dropping her shields.

"Why like this?" he finally managed to choke out. His whole body hummed with recognition, it was growing harder not to just crush her against him and do what she was coaxing him to do - knowing fully well that she wouldn’t resist, even welcome it as a relief to the unbearable tension which had built between them like a backdraft. But this was more important now.

Her pupils were dilated when she looked up to him with the eyes that - now free of the mask - were a dark, sensuous brown again. Was she fighting tears?

"I needed you. Somehow - finally. I didn’t know what else to do. It didn’t matter how, or where - it still would have been you. It is you." Her hands clawed into the front of his shirt, unconsciously teasing his skin once again - drawing a sharp hiss from him.

"Don’t deny me. I’ve waited too long." A lone tear slithered down her cheek.

The single droplet and the sentence shot straight through his core. Too long? Meaning exactly what? Had she . . .

"What are you saying here?" he rasped as he wiped away the tear, letting his hand linger on her cheek.

"How many more times do I have to say this? I was never allowed to acknowledge my feelings for you, but . . ."

A thin veil of memory was cast over her eyes as she remembered all the moments in which she had been forced to fight her feelings. In which it would have been so easy to just reach out and touch him - but they had never been alone. All the nights in which she had dreamed of his lips and his hands and his voice, his soul to shroud hers and give her understanding, passion, true feelings . . . She shifted and pressed her cheek into his palm, looking steadfastly into his eyes, holding his gaze.

"Two years are a very long time when your body and mind are screaming out for someone."

With this she dove for his lips again, capturing them in a searing kiss full of desperate need which confirmed that her words were true and her hunger was real. Her nipping at his lower lip, plundering his mouth, duelling with his tongue - it was all he needed to understand.

She wanted him. Wanted him, needed him! The waves of joy made him dizzy. And suddenly there was no more wrong in that, as he picked her up, carrying her to his room, keeping the promises of the night, and not regretting a single nip at her lovely skin, not regretting that it was his name on her lips when they made love until the day dawned. Not regretting the fact that having her meant opening his soul for devastation once he allowed his feelings to surface.

Losing control didn’t seem to be a weakness anymore - and even if it was, he didn’t care. For he knew that she was feeling the devastating effect of their pent-up emotions ruling their bodies, minds and souls as well. But together, and only together, they would be reborn. Stronger. Better.

He felt her drifting into a blissful sleep while he stroked her dampened hair, clinging to her back. She was basking in his warmth, curling around him as though afraid he might vanish.

Long strands of silky soft hair were draped over his chest where her head was resting. Her warm breath fanning his torso, her arms tightly locked him in place. She was not taking the chance of him leaving. The promise not to leave her again was something she had repeatedly coaxed him to give.

He had to admit that he was glad she didn’t use these special methods of coaxing someone for the greater good of her planet. This was solely for him - had been made for him. The passion she was capable of still awed him, even as she lay in his arms now, sleeping peacefully.

A thought rushed through his mind and he smiled.

Sabé.

Little devil. She had probably known all along.

He knew there had been a reason for inviting him here.

Fin