The Jedi And The Warrior

Love Formed Out Of Tragedy

Night had fallen by the time they made it back to the cave. They were both raw from crying, but Flyra felt lighter, easier. As they stumbled back over the sands, she found herself reaching for Obi-Wan's hand, his fingers wrapping firmly around hers. Only when they stepped into the cave mouth did she turn to him.

"Obi," she whispered, and something like relief flickered in his eyes at that name. "I never stopped regretting that I left. I want you to know that... that I missed you, every day that we were apart."

He smiled, the first genuine one she thought he'd made since she came to Tatooine. He lifted his hand, hesitated — then cupped her cheek once again. She leaned into his touch, his hand warm and large. "And I, you," he murmured.

He looked so beautiful, in the distant starlight, so much like everything she'd ever been looking for, and how had she been so blind for so long? Flyra leaned in, her heart pounding a nervous rhythm in her chest, fear and desire pooling in her core.

But Obi-Wan echoed her movement, pulling her in with his gentle hand, and she closed her eyes and kissed him.

His lips were warm and soft, his kiss a tentative, trembling thing. He pulled away before she was ready, and oh gods had she not been prepared for the flush on his cheeks and the darkness in his striking eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, ducking her head. "I shouldn't have done that."

But he shook his head. "I want this," he told her. "I have wanted this for... too long."

"But... the Code," she reminded him, even as his closeness threatened to knock her knees from under her.

He swallowed hard. "The Code is gone," he answered, somewhat bitterly. "The Order has fallen, the Jedi are dead. And I... do not see how something so pure can be so terrible." He smiled. "The Force is — it is harmonising, between us. Singing. Like a blessing." A single tear slid from her eye and rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away with a thumb. "But none of that matters if you don't want this, or if you are too afraid."

Oh, galaxy bless this unassuming man.

For answer, Flyra wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. A small sound came out of him, borne of long years bereft of touch or affection, and she kissed him harder at that, plunging her hands into his soft hair.

His kisses this time were deeper, thorough, and as his tongue delved into her mouth Flyra had to grip onto his shoulder. But he was pulling her close, pulling her so deep into him that not an inch of her body seemed separate from his. She could feel his desperation, his desire, in the way his lips trembled against hers, but she could also feel the control, an uncrackable patience.

She had a feeling that was going to pay off for her later on.

But for now, she just slid her hands into his hair and kissed him, deeply, and moaned when his mouth moved from her lips to her neck, his kisses searching and deep. As though he wanted to learn every line and contour of her.

When he found that one spot that had heat spiking in her core, she let out a gasp and involuntarily pulled his hair. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was surprised at the soft groan that slipped out of him, and the way his hips ground into hers.

He kept kissing that spot on her neck, his tongue slipping out to brush over it, and Flyra couldn't stop the pants and gasps that broke from her. Especially when his hand found her breast beneath her tunic and squeezed gently. It had been so long — too long, for both of them. It sent a shock wave through her that went straight to her core, and Obi-Wan had to stop and bury his head in the crook of her neck to muffle his groans.

When he moved her to the bed, she let him lay her down upon the cave floor, and there was not an inch of fear in her soul as he bent over her, making sure to keep his weight off her with his forearms braced upon the sand. Distracting forearms.

"Would you come here?" she chided, dragging him down on top of her, and he smirked before he kissed her.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he murmured onto her lips, his breath fanning across her mouth.

"Oh, shut up and kiss me, Obi-Wan."

He just chuckled, claiming her lips again, and she allowed herself to sink into it, cherishing the weight that he now settled over hers, his hand roaming her rib cage.

"I want to taste you," he breathed, and stars was she not prepared for that.

She knew it was a question from the way he stilled, waiting for permission, but it was phrased as nothing like one.

She managed to gather herself enough to say, "Is that a rhetorical quest —"

"Oh, hush." But he still made no move to touch her. "I will not make any move unless you give me express permission, my darling."

Darling. That was not a word she had expected to find so... good. But he wasn't done.

"Unless, of course, you wish to waste more time talking?" His smile was gentle, teasing; his eyes were anything but.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, are you now getting on to me for my sass? Because — oh!"

He found a nipple through the fabric of her tunic and rolled it between thumb and forefinger. "You didn't answer my question," he said, and he pressed his hips into hers, giving her nipple a small pinch and a tug at the same time.

All she could manage was a small, pathetic whimper. Judging by the way he ground himself against her again, he did not find it pathetic at all.

"Obi-Wan, I'm giving you permission," she groaned out, squirming underneath his relentless patience.

He just raised his eyebrows. "Permission to do what, exactly?"

Gods above, how did he stay so calm? She grabbed his other hand and placed it over her breast. "Touch me here," she breathed.

He rolled his thumbs over both her nipples, and her whole body arched up into him, a moan shuddering from her. "Like this?"

And so he worked his way down her body as though it were a temple, worshipping every corner, and there was not a flicker of fear in her. Not least because he asked her, every time he moved towards something new, because he was attuned to every sound she made, every whimper and moan.

He was beautiful, and she told him so, hoping that the words would go beyond just the contours of his mind and into his very flesh and deeper still, into the bones and soul and heart of this wonderful man. But he was more beautiful than ever as he settled above her, as he slid inside her, as he paused, his groaning a wonderful thing to hear.

And with him inside her like this, on top of her, with all the ability to hurt her beyond repair in all the ways she could be hurt, she trusted him completely. His world-worn soul settled into her world-worn soul, and the dualities of his nature which should at best uncoordinate him instead creased into something infinitely balanced.

She wished she could tell him, wished she could show him, and perhaps he heard it, in some flutter of the Force, because a drop of wetness splashed on her cheek from above. She cupped his face, unafraid of meeting his eyes.

"I love you," she whispered, and meant it with every fibre of her being.

Crushing emotion filled his face. "And I, you," he murmured back. Even so quiet, his voice held an almost beg.

It carried for a moment, echoing back and forth between them, a singular moment of absolute, unmarred joy.

And then Obi-Wan began to move inside her.