Complicated and Delicate

Era: sometime during the Clone Wars

Place: the Lake Country of Naboo

Ship: Obidala

Disclaimer: this is an original fan work, I'm not making money, I don't own Star Wars blah, blah, blah....Disney, don't sue me.

*

It was Obi-Wan's favourite memory, always.

Sometime in the height of the unrelenting Clone Wars Obi-Wan accompanied Padmé as her bodyguard to a remote area of Naboo so she could attend to the tedium of war and politics. The Senate felt a guardian necessary for Padmé as threats to her life always loomed, and it was by Anakin's personal request that Obi-Wan was given the assignment. General Skywalker had been called to the front and, knowing that Padmé and his Master were close friends, he secured the arrangement with the Council. The posting was perhaps a poor use of Obi-Wan's talents, but he'd earned a rest from battle fatigues, and he secretly warmed at the thought of time in the Lake Country, of time with Padmé - even if she did come along with Jar Jar (bless him). There had always been stirrings between he and the doughty senator Amidala, faint whispers of a connection drawn out against the backdrop of this reckless war. A complicated and delicate balance indeed, but such were the times.

A particularly sultry summer night fell on the High Lakes, chunky grasses hung heavy with sweaty dew whilst lake waters rippled against the craggy forms of mountains in the high night sky. The air was hot and thick and stirring with throaty frog songs that resonated from below the balcony. On this particular night the triplette moons of Naboo were luminous, speckled, and unusually large, keeping the night awake inside Obi-Wan. Suspended in time he pensively lit a cigarette, a tiny bright orb ignited in the darkness as he inhaled slowly, obscuring momentarily his vision in a thin veil of smoke. Moments passed, Obi-Wan pulled generous drags as he breathed in the peaceful night, trying to dull the tumult of his mind. "Shiiiit" he said said softly aloud on a deep exhale after a time. Obi-Wan looked upward to the moons, but they offered no reply.

Throughout this assignment Obi-Wan had been patiently guarding the political entourage as they argued and spat at each other, made calls, wrote up treaties only to rip them in half, revised trade agreements, and indulged in endless pageantry. Always alert to danger and intrigue, he and Padmé had occasionally found delicious, quiet moments together - a walk in the gardens, a coffee, eye contact that lingered, a safety briefing, a friendly good-night kiss, and one intoxicating dance at a welcome reception for a Twi'lek aristocrat. On that night Padmé had worn a dress with an exposed back; he placed his hand on her sacrum, pressing his unsmooth palm against her freckled skin while they danced decorously with their bodies slightly closer than required. The memory of that touched lived in his hand. When the song ended Obi-Wan brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. She met his eyes, smiling kindly, but they were interrupted by Jar Jar. "Fucking stupid piece of stanky-ass, baby-talking sleemo swamp-shit," Obi-Wan had thought in the moment, but he felt ashamed and never thought it again. He bought Jar Jar a big fish at the market the next morning to ease his guilty conscience, but for the Gungan it meant they were now bonded at the soul, as was the way with senator Binks, (bless him).

Whilst the hustle and bustle of time passed in the High Lakes, flashes started to come into Obi-Wan:

*He and Padmé would cross each other in an empty hall, connecting eyes. He would grab her by the waist, press her against the wall, and feel her red mouth with his tongue. She would search his mouth back. He would lift her skirt to find her pussy uncovered. She would moan "Obi-Wan," while he would finger her. "I want you" he would say, "please let me in," and she would. Or he would eat Padmé's pussy, fully burying his face in her labia and scented curls. She would buck with pleasure and he would hold her firmly with his rough hands. He would slip a finger into her ass. He would suck and flick her clit until she squirted on his face. Afterwards he would kiss her belly while she stroked his back. He would do anything she asked.*

Even in the mornings the flashes would wake him with a throbbing erection:

*He would wake up beside a warm body, Padmé's. She would smile and slyly grind against his half-chub as they spooned. She would slip beneath the covers to take his dick in her mouth then climb on top and ride him, taking all of him, sheathing him, invaginating him, swallowing him alive. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, Padmé, Padmé!" he would call out as they came together on her hardest pounce. She would collapse onto his chest with his member still inside her. He would hold her with both arms so she felt safe.*

Being the dignified and restrained man that he was, Obi-Wan had tried to control these thoughts to the best of his abilities. He jerked-off in the mornings, trained vigorously, fasted until he felt faint, meditated, washed in cold water, apologized, didn't apologize, spoke to his ancestors, thwarted assassinations, levitated, took draughts of expensive whisky, prayed to the old Gods and the new, went for walks, held stake outs, or just gave into his goddamn body-yearnings, yet still sleep evaded him. That night it was Padmé's chestnut hair he could not stop ruminating about, so he left the torment of his empty bed to smoke on the balcony. Padmé had worn her hair loose that day, billowing out in waves so that it was all he could do to stop from touching her curly, perfumed locks. "This is her fault," he thought, "she knows what she's doing to me," but it was a false anger that easily crumbled. He took another drag as he sorted through his thoughts.

Had he imagined it all? Afterall, he had seen glances, touches between her and Anakin, so how could he, plain and steady Obi-fucking-Wan-Kenobi really compare? "Stupid idiot," he whispered to himself. He took another pensive drag in the hot and sticky night. "I'm nothing to her" he thought dangerously, but a warmth came into him, embers stirred in the dead of a winter's night, as he recalled that time she had silently taken his hand as they walked along the lake shore. That time she confided in him when Anakin had spoken poorly to her. That time she rested her head on his shoulder during a long-haul hyperspace flight. That time they locked eyes at the victory celebration in Theed. He would not deny his intuition.

*She would be on all fours, head low, ass up. Her pussy lips would fold open in full view, for him. He would tease her with the tip of his cock until she was dripping with pearly, viscous liquid. She would beg him to put it in. He would hold her hips and fall into her depths from behind. He would do it for forever if she wanted it.*

Obi-Wan took one last pull and tossed his burnt cigarette over the balcony into the void. "Shiiiiit."

In the deep recesses of his mind and bones Obi-Wan sensed he loved Padmé, it was undeniable, but also unsayable. Complicated. Delicate. Obi-Wan knew that protecting Padmé would always be a task at hand, especially given Anakin's spilling interest in her. Yes, Obi-Wan would need to be near her, always. But did she want Anakin back? No, if she did, that was her choice, she was grown, she had her own mind and destiny, he told himself. Padmé's freedom was not anyone's to give her. But Anakin was reckless, jealous at times, difficult to control. Anakin was loose and fast, gritty, gruff, and unrefined, prone to instability. Obi-Wan felt a tinge of disgust at the thought of Anakin touching Padmé, but Anakin was a Jedi brother, his student, and his responsibility, so there we were. The frog nation abruptly stopped their singing.

Then he heard them: faint footfalls. This is where Obi-Wan loved to start replaying this bright burning memory. His breath stopped at the place between heart beats. Which Gods had sent her?

"Padmé?" he said without looking, not daring to move.

She froze in place behind him. "How did you...?"

He gave no reply, but continued looking to the moons. Padmé looked at his thick, shaggy hair that was slightly overgrown, his powerful shoulders, his trim waist, his low-back dimples; she took in his nakedness from the waist up, his lean and hairy body in the light of three phosphorescent moons. Padmé suddenly became aware of the solitude she had interrupted.

"I came to see...you," she trailed off and nearly followed her impulse to turn and run had Obi-Wan not eventually turned to face her. Obi-Wan locked his gaze onto her and she fell hush, grounded in place like her feet had roots that touched everything. Their eyes met across the distance. Complicated. Delicate.

Instantly they collided like comets. On an audible breath they ran towards each other, locking onto each other's mouth, thirstily, desperately, an elixir of longing and desire. Padmé slumped into Obi-Wan's chest and he grabbed her face, never daring to take his mouth from hers. They were both free-falling through space. The sky got higher, the moons got farther away. The war stopped. Obi-Wan's tongue slipped into Padmé's mouth and she returned his hunger, nipping his lower lip, moaning gently. Obi-Wan felt her silken nightdress against his chest, the thinness of the fabric let him feel the fleshy shape of her curvaceous ass in his hands. He stroked the flesh of her back. Padmé rubbed his chest hair with her tiny hands, brushing his beard, squeezing her nails into his biceps, wrapping her bare arms around his neck. She, too, did not dare take her mouth off his for fear of death. They drank and drank and drank. Naboo journeyed around its sun. The Jedi code blew away. The Senate crumbled. The Sith never lived. Obi-Wan was pulsing hard and Padmé felt the wet between her legs, yet the kissing did not stop until she barely managed to murmur: "take me now, inside."

He would do anything she asked.

Clutching her by her bottom, Obi-Wan lifted Padmé so she could wrap her legs around his waist, locking her ankles. Wielding the Force he easily carried her the distance to his room, without even separating their mouths. Padmé hardly notice they had travelled until Obi-Wan playfully dropped her onto his bed, coming down on top of her and pinning her wrists above her head with a light grip. The warm weight of Obi-Wan's body on top of Padmé made her skin burn like blue flames, she knew no power in the universe could stop her from wanting this man: his woolly chest, his whiskered face, his strength, his protection, his thick, massive cock, his endurance, his heart, his soul, all of it she needed immediately. Everywhere Obi-Wan put his hands she felt a shiver of living energy, the gentle ebb of the Force from his palms into her skin and organs; it was radiant and electric. She wrapped her legs around him. Obi-Wan found his way into Padmé's night dress and there was nothing between her pussy and his fingers. Padmé too, it seemed, had been having some provocative dreams of her own.

"Ohhhh..." was all Obi-Wan could hum softly as he slowly slithered a finger inside her wet pussy, working it gradually back and forth until he buried it to the second knuckle. Padmé moaned, and the sound was like molten gold in his veins; it made his dick the hardest it had ever been, and so he went for two fingers that eventually came away slick and shiny in the light of the moons. Her insides felt like a sun-warmed ocean. He put his fingers in his mouth so he could taste her and then slid them into Padmé's mouth where she, too, licked them before guiding his hand back to her vagina.

"Obi-Wan," Padmé whispered between flicks of his fingers on the roof of her hot birth canal. "Mmhm?" He barely uttered over their ardent kissing, but whatever it was she let it go unsaid and again squeezed her nails into his thick forearms. They ravaged each other at a furious pace, Obi-Wan pulled Padmé's pale blue night dress over her head and she unwrapped his plain linen bottoms so they fell off his backside to the floor.

Obi-Wan, abruptly aware of their furious pace, rose up on his knees to savour this time with Padmé.

"What?" she laughed under his smiling gaze.

"Oh nothing, it's just that you..are...disgusting," Padmé moved to kill him, "I mean perfection, perfection!" he shouted as he defended himself from her playful hits. Obi-Wan grinned as he gently rubbed his hands up Padmé's thighs, calming her, pushing her legs upward until they rested behind his head. She knew what was coming and smiled as her eyes fell closed.

He mindfully lowered himself to his belly, his face coming down into her pussy. "Oh gods" was the last thing Padmé said.

Obi-Wan began to lick and tease her cunt, stroking her labia with a finger down either lip, occasionally slipping one digit inside her only to remove it and start over again. Obi-Wan's mouth was buried so deep in her pussy that she felt every one of his alive breaths enter her like heaven. She relaxed her legs so they fell open freely as the weight of her head fell backwards onto her shoulders, fully surrendering to Obi-Wan's desire for her taste and scent. At times she would run her fingers through his hair, massaging his head, teasing his scalp, and gasping as he found all the right spots with his tongue. "Obi-Wan, Obi-wan...," she breathlessly called out during her climax and he let the Force flow from his fingers into her clit until they came away with strings of white, viscous fluid. He delighted in the orgasm-flush that washed over Padmé's face like she'd had too much sun and she collapsed flat onto her back, chest heaving with deep breaths.

He came up to lay beside her and hold her while she recovered, but to his pleasant surprise she immediately started to kiss him again, only gentler this second time. He let her take all the pleasure she wanted. Their tongues entwined inside the other's mouth, searching for water to cleanse their thirst. Padmé ran her nails up and down Obi-Wan's sweaty back, grinding slowly against his thigh until she could feel her wetness return to her. Obi-Wan took the time to suck on her nipples, kiss her soft belly, and nip her white throat until, cock throbbing, it was all he could do to beg her: "please Padmé, pull me in, pull me inside." With that, Padmé spread her hips apart, allowing Obi-Wan to thrust his large, veiny cock inside her, losing control in a way he had not known he was capable. Her breath caught in her throat as she pushed him just a little deeper with her hands on his ass. He moaned. Padmé felt Obi-Wan pressed to the root, his swampy balls slapped against her ass.

He wanted to devour her, but he also wanted to make it last forever. He began with deep, slow thrusts, pulling his cock nearly all the way out and then sheathing it all the way back in, filling Padmé's body. One time he teased her and stopped himself just at the entry to her canal until Padmé punched him in the chest, hard, with her sharp little knuckles:

"Don't stop!" she ordered.

"Ow! As you wish, Milady" he chuckled and filled her again, relishing in her sounds of pleasure.

Her mouth fell open at the feel of his hard dick back inside her and she could not fathom the control he showed where she had none. Just the smell of Obi-Wan's chest - tobacco, faint soapy lavender, and sweat - was enough to send her over the edge. Obi-Wan couldn't control himself any longer either, and his thrusting became more alive, more powerful, more rhythmic. Padmé could feel every detail of his uncut cock as her pussy took it in, deeper, harder, deeper again, harder again. Obi-Wan felt himself getting closer just as Padmé grabbed his face and cried out: "Don't stop! Don't Stop!" and he ejaculated powerfully into Padmé's arched body as her muscles clenched around him.

Then, like a mighty current, a tide of energy and spirit, Obi-Wan's Force grabbed them both at the apogee of their desire and thrust them into the air, sending them tumbling through the cosmos of orgasm. No gods in the universe could have followed them here. Desperately, they clung to each other whilst they each succumbed to the climax of the other - one knotted body alone on a watery planet surrounded by moons. How am I even alive? Obi-Wan thought. They did not falter or speak or look, but tumbled, together, until they came to a point of stillness in mid air above the bed, flooded with the bliss of life-giving connection. Padmé rested on Obi-Wan's lap, the weight of her whole body pushed down onto his cock with the force of gravity; she hugged him steadfastly with all her limbs, burying her face into his neck. Obi-Wan hovered in a seated position with his ankles nearly crossed, hugging Padmé back as tight as her ribs would allow, finding peace and nourishment in her warm insides.

It took time to re-orient himself, but eventually Obi-Wan flitted them both safely back to the ground, to the comfort of his humble pillow, their noses touching each other's. From a distance the frogs started singing again under the orbital moons. He stroked the side of her face as Padmé nestled into him, his hot cum starting to drip out of her. He kissed her forehead and caressed her exposed ear. She folded into his hairy chest and drank in his odour. For some time they lay like this until she kissed him softly and faintly giggled: "again."

"Gods, woman, you are going to be the death of me!"

"Oh please," she teased and gracefully mounted his pelvis, filling his eyes with her curves. "Rally, Obi-Wan, and put your hands on me...that's an order, Master Jedi," she smiled seductively as she rubbed his hands from her clit to her tits, biting the bottom corner of her lip.

He would do anything she asked.

They continued throughout the night until the sun returned and duty required them to pull apart, but this was not to be their last night together. Whenever the weather, the rotations of the suns, the war, the desire, the connection, the missions, the loneliness, the hunger, the thirst, the coldness of space, the Force, or the simple need for a steamy shower brought them back to each other they would surrender fully, saying nothing and feeling everything. Even as the truth of Anakin and Padmé started to reveal itself, Obi-Wan never faltered, for he knew Padmé and he would always remain entangled by a delicate destiny and a complicated love. Each night with her was a sacred offering, holy water, but this particular night was always Obi-Wan's favourite to remember: The affirmation. The wetness. The aliveness. The moons. There had been other nights just as ravenous, just as exciting, just as forbidden, but each time he recalled this night it soaked his body with a strength that kept him moving, surviving, fighting. If only he had known they did not have forever.

Many decades later, as he stared into the abhorrent face of the ravaging monster who had once been his Padawan, Obi-wan thought of this night, of Padmé's body taking him in, of her warmed ocean, of her scent and taste, and surrendered fully, letting her precious son escape with his life. It was the last memory to journey across the country of his mind as Vader cut him through, returning him to the Force, returning him to the humid, watery planet where a doughty, heartful senator with chestnut hair greeted him in the light of three bright and silent moons.