A/N: This is a departure from the norm for me, as I'm writing from a POV unfamiliar to me, and I hope it works. It's up to you to decide who Obi-Wan is really spending time with, but in my mind, it was with me. ;)
...
You stare at Obi-Wan, standing proud, straight, beautiful before you. His gaze is direct, intense, sees right into your heart, your soul as if he knows just what you are thinking, feeling at all times. His are the eyes of spring skies, chilling with their directness and need for absolvement, understanding, curiosity over a new development he does not quite understand or is familiar with.
You hold out your hand to him hopefully, hope dying in your chest that perhaps he will reject it out of not knowing what to do with it, what it symbolizes. Instead he takes it, eyes downcast and eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks, dark lacy fronds shining in sharp relief against his pale skin.
Of course, being a Jedi, he is worthy of love, respect, undying fealty in one such as you, yet you don't fully give it, hold back and release aspects of love one mote at a time, over days, weeks, months, years. Obi-Wan is beautiful, commanding, yet tender when he wants to be, when he needs to be, whenever he is with you.
Even the tone of his voice is curious, interested, intelligent beyond any measure you could hope to understand or even match and once again you bow before him, in emotions if not in actions.
His hand takes yours and raises it to tempting, sinful lips soft and silken. He never takes his eyes from you as he lowers your hand, lips shining slightly in the light as the tip of his pink tongue laps out to sweep over his plump lips slowly.
You track the progress of that tongue, gaze lingering upon his lips and craving sweet, stolen kisses under watchful moonlight and the coldness of the stars shining overhead. He notices you watching him, smiles, soft, pliant lips curving ever so slightly. Before spending any regular time here, you knew he rarely smiled, laughed so freely, or have cause or occasion to. You have given him cause to smile, to laugh, to love an individual above the usual melee of humanity.
He closes the distance between you, leans in, presses his mouth to yours, lips as soft and as pliant as you remember them. You become lost in that kiss, and it's as though all the choirs of Heaven are singing for the love exchanged, for kisses stolen wantonly, the depth of affection that passes between your two bodies.
Obi-Wan tastes as pure as you remember him, sweet, with a hint of purity and muskiness that's all Obi-Wan. Your body craves more from him, more kisses, more love, to lay with him beneath moonlight, starlight, sunlight; none of it matters as long as you are with him.
As if sensing your eagerness, your readiness, he slowly starts to undress you, before pulling away to undress himself. His blue-green eyes turn downwards once more, face fragile when seen at a different angle, eyelashes curving down to his cheeks in gentle fragility. He looks perfect, even more the embodiment of a Jedi than you had ever imagined.
You lay in wait upon the bed, legs parted, moaning when he finally comes to you, covers your body with his own, before he prepares you for his entrance, finally penetrates you. His movements are slow, purposeful, languid, perfect, knowing what you want, when you need it and giving more of himself when he's laying with you than when he's fully clothed and you respond, reciprocate, scream out his name upon climax, revel in the sound of Obi-Wan whimpering your own name in turn.
You watch as he lays beside you, eyes staring intently at yours, mouth pouting into a perfectly kissable shape which you take full advantage of. You finally draw away, breathless, to stare at him in wonder and tenderness, loving the closeness, the nearness of him.
He leans in, places lips against smooth skin, your eyes never leaving his for an instant. He steals a kiss from you, and you feel his hard shaft against your thigh. You know he wants you again, you know you want him in turn and you know you want him to make love to you a good many times over the coming night.
You smile to yourself past Obi-Wan's kisses, feel love blossom in your chest for the Jedi cradling you in his arms, strength apparent in the lines of his body that belies his fragile frame. Again, you're reminded of how he's not as he seems, that he's a powerful being and you're intrigued by it, love it, love him.
You feel Obi-Wan applying pressure upon your hip, pushing you back upon the mattress beneath you, kissing you, and you lay back willingly, legs spread to accommodate his body between them, loving the weight of him over you. You sigh into his open mouth, knowing that you're about to be in for a very good night, indeed, with your Jedi lover, and you're very happy with that, with him, with everything.
~fini~