With her body pressed so close to him, her lips clinging to his as though if she moved, he might vanish into the darkness, permeated only by the floating lights that surrounded them. He moved on instinct, on desire, on memory; his hands slid over her back to latch onto her hips as hers twisted into the ends of his hair and brushed past the thick hairs of his beard, brushing against bare skin on the back of his neck.
She deepens there kiss first, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there is no resistance left in him. He feels like his youth has returned to him, his memories of their nights spent together before this, of all of their kisses stolen in private moments between them, of her so recent confession of love. He felt her tongue slip past his, her hands tugging him down as she explored all the recesses of his mouth. It was electrifying. His muscles tensed and molded closer to hers, the hard planes of his war-racked body seeking out the warmth and softness she radiated to him. For a fleeting moment, the nostalgia almost overwhelmed him, and he wondered how different there life would be if she had asked him to stay.
She broke their kiss, and he realized how out of breath he actually was, panting in her ear. "Not to rush you," He said quietly, feeling her react to his words, "but if we want to keep this private, I suggest we move to another room." He knew when speaking them the suggestion that his words were laced with. He also knew that if this was going to continue, if they were going to give back in to all of the feelings they had harbored for these years, that she would not wait. He felt her step back, and he released her, disappointment swelling in his chest. It would be too hard for her, then, to give back in to feelings she had kept hidden.
But then, her hand slid into his, and after a long gaze, she stepped towards her bedroom, pulling him with her. The Jedi training inside of him cringed, but with the will of the force, he pushed it away into the feelings of resentment, rage, and frustration he had felt since the start of his return to Mandalore. He did not leave room in his heart for regret as he watched Satine move, the floating lights that decorated the castle illuminating at her touch. Her body was colored red, green, blue, yellow, and white; and there were few things he wanted to do more than look at her, take in her beauty and grace.
Her bedding was blue, the same color as the Mandalorian waters that surrounded the city, and he recalled that the first time they had been together, there only physical comfort had been a set of thermal blankets and the dim light of a pair of glow rods. But he didn't want to think about that now, he wanted to focus on her hands untying and peeling apart the panels of his Jedi tunic, his utility belt lain carefully across a chair. He wanted to focus on her lips, kissing his fingers softly before she moved his hand back to her hip. He wanted to focus on her other hand on his bare chest, pressing him backwards until he on her bed and she was straddling him into it, her lips ready to kiss his again.
And they stayed like that for several minutes, his body reacting to every touch of her fingers, every kiss from her lips over his now exposed skin. "You've been through a lot since we were together, Obi-wan." Her fingers were tracing the scars that cut across his chest, feeling each white and pink curve and edge with a careful finger.
"Spoils of war, I'm afraid." He was worried what she might think; his scars were marks of fighting, of his torture on Rattatak. She disapproved of such things on principal, and he braced himself for a chastisement, or a rejection.
"Marks of valor, Obi-wan." She corrected him softly, and he felt the same love he had felt for her fr so long swell up in his chest. Her fingers were replaced by her lips, kissing their way along his chest, her hands moved across his abdomen, feeling the thick-lined muscles there. She stopped her hand at the waistband of his pants and made eye contact with him again. He pulled her back into another kiss, his hands moving to push her jacket back off of her shoulders, then tugging at the bottom him of her shirt.
She obliged him, pulling it over her head, her blonde hair coming back down looser and freer than he had seen it in a long time. He sat up on the bed, her legs moving to wrap around his waist as his lips came back over hers. His tongue moved over hers, tasting her fully as his hands danced over the bare skin of her back and stomach and sides, tracing small swirling spirals into her skin. He could feel her hips grinding forward into his body, and his body reacting accordingly. A low, guttural groan came from somewhere in the back on his throat as he broke their kiss and moved his lips to her neck.
He moved his hand to her bra line, and after waiting on her gentle nod, he undid the clasp. He peeled the straps forward down her arms and tossed the garment over where her shirt had been discarded on the floor behind them. Every primal part of his body pushed him to stare at, kiss, and grope her breasts. But he moved slowly, kissing the corner of her lips before leaning forward and pressing her down onto the top sheet, his weight between her legs. "You're beautiful." He said simply to her, his eyes locked on hers, and she got the message. This was more than sexual attraction, more than a culmination of physical desire, though it would certainly satisfy that. She smiled up at him, and for the first time in more than two decades, he allowed himself to look down at her bare upper body.
His body reacted to hers in the same time as hers did. His thumb moved of her breast, her nipple hardening at his touch. His watched her face for a moment, her eyes closing, a soft moan coming out of her lips as he touched her. Then he moved his lips down to her breasts, kissing them softly, moving his fingers over the one his mouth couldn't see to. He took his time, reveling in her body, each soft noise she made or soft touch as her fingers moved over his back and twisted into his hair shot bolts of electricity through his blood and to parts of his body he knew she could feel growing against her.
After he placed a last kiss to the valley created between her breasts, his hands oved to undo her belt, where he slid it out of her slacks in one swift motion before undoing the zipper and tugging them down her waist. She helped him, kicking them off into the dark oblivion that was the room behind them. The bare skin of her legs was painted different colors by the lights, the pattern covering them changing as he moved his hands over the smooth curve of her calves and thighs. He moved backwards, his hands tugging at the top of her panties to pull them down. She watched him, a small smile on her lips. He remembered that she always exuded confidence, even the first time they made love, she had been comfortable enough in her body to make him comfortable in his.
Her underwear joined the rest of their clothes on the floor behind him, and as his fingers grazed her inner thigh, he could feel the heat radiating from her. "We've never been able to take our time like this, love." He said, grinning up at her before moving down to kiss the inner part of her thighs.
"I'm glad we can now." She almost whispered, her voice slightly strained as his fingers moved between her legs. She was wet, and keening for his touch against her. His body was tense, as desperate for her as she was for him, but he made himself take it painstakingly slow, moving his fingers despite her protest and replacing that touch with his mouth , closed over her. He moved his tongue against every part of her he knew to, her reactions of gasps and hushed moans telling him more than he could ask from.
He kept it up, giving her as much as he could manage until he could feel his own body becoming more and more wanton as she burned at his touch. His pants, normally loose fitting and athletic, were becoming unbearably tight, but as he moved back over her, kissing up her stomach, and moving back to her breasts, she must have felt the same way. "Lean up, Obi." He leaned back, and she quickly undid the strings of his pants. And then she hurriedly pushed his boxers off as well, her eyes dilated, as she took in his body under the multicolored lights.
Wanting, he guessed, to return his efforts, she took him in her hand, stroking him in long, languid strokes. He groaned into her neck, letting the sensation of her touch roll over him. "Obi-wan." She said, and he could feel the desperation in her voice. "I have to know something." He knew, in the back of his mind, what she was going to ask. He reached down and took her wrist in his hand, stilling the motions waves of pleasure shooting to his brain.
"I haven't, Satine." He said slowly, meeting her eyes. "Not since you and I." If there was something stronger than lust in her eyes, it was only love. He had made a promise to himself, to the memory of their love for each other, that he would be faithful to her and their memories. He couldn't bear to ask the same question to her, the childish part of his brain not wanting to know that answer.
"Neither have I." Again, she answered his unspoken thoughts, and he realized how well she really did know him, his thoughts, his feelings, his actions. Some part inside of him soared, and she moved her hand around him one last time before moving to latch her hands around his neck. "I had suitors, but none could compare to you, Obi-wan." She smiled, and tugged him downward. But before their lips could meet, she spoke to him softly. "Make love to me."
He kept their eyes locked together, and in an almost painfully slow movement, slid into her waiting body. His entire body felt electric, every nerve ending ignited as her body pulled him in deeper. He hadn't felt this good in years, maybe never, he thought as he started to move his hips slowly. She was whispering things into his neck, but he couldn't concentrate to make them out, taking them as urgings as he arms tightened around his upper body and her nails dug into his back.
He felt every sensation, taking his time to savor each thrust into her body, feeling her tighten the more he thrust. He kissed her throat, one of his hands moving between them to brush against her breasts. The more he moved inside of her, the more his body urged him to go faster, his hips settling into a steady rhythm where he could, in the foggy realm of thought, hear the bed squeaking under them. She was moaning, and he realized, after a few minutes, that he was as well, every noise he made disappearing into the smooth curve of her throat and shoulder.
He could feel his release building, with every thrust into her, every moan and every grasping touch. But he held back, wanting her to get their first. He didn't have to wait long, twenty years apart had pushed them both forward into almost desperation, and as eh thrust one more time into her wanton body, he felt her clench involuntarily around him, his name leaving her lips in a cry that, combined with the feel of her, pulled him over the edge. He stayed inside her, saying in a hurried tone, everything he had ever wanted to say to her, letting her name slip from his lips like it was a miracle he was parlay to.
When they split apart, he didn't go far, collapsing on the bed next to her, their heads on her pillows, their bodies slightly sweaty and gradually untensing. He watched the lights floating above them, feeling the pull of sleep coming over him. Watching them hover, trading colors in the air space, for him there was no Clone War. No Order. No pain, suffering, or fighting. There was Satine, the pair of them in the throes of lovemaking, absorbed only in each other and in the moment they had finally been able to share again together.
"I love you." He said finally having his breath back. She laughed and rolled up, planting her feet on the bed.
"I love you, too, Obi-wan." She picked his tunic up off the floor, his eyes following her body across the floor. "Stay here tonight." She might have meant it as a question, but he didn't take it that way. He rose from the bed as well, a little color touching his cheeks as he pulled back the covers and blankets, leaving the bed open for them.
"I'd love to." He force-called his underwear and pants to him, thinking she might give him his tunic until she pulled it over her head, the fabric ridiculously large on her small frame. He just grinned, and climbed back into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her, and burying his face in her now tousled blonde hair. She laughed gently, entwining her fingers with his, and as he watched all the lights but a few of the soft white ones faded out.
"Goodnight, Obi." She said softly, and he realized she was almost asleep, and how tired he was, his eyelids thick.
"Goodnight, Satine." And he closed his eyes as the lights floated gently above them.