Written for an LJ ficlet challenge, Prompt: Intoxicated.
She stared at him a moment, then burst into giggles once more, leaning forward to bury her head in his chest and nearly spilling both their drinks.
"What?"
"No, no – "
"What?"
"Nothing!"
"Bithia…" His tone would have been menacing, were either of them in any state of mind to particularly appreciate it.
"It's the braid!" she finally burst out, then clapped her mouth over her hand.
Anakin fumbled for the offending item, then frowned.
"Wait – my braid?"
Bithia downed the meager last of her Whyren's, squinted at him for a moment, then leaned over. Anakin quite suddenly had a full view of the two contents of her sparkly sort of top as she climbed onto him, doing Force-knows-what with his padawan braid and the hairpins she was rapidly pulling from her own hair.
When she spoke, her voice was muffled – full of hairpins, no doubt.
"If I can just – fuck, this looks ridiculous. At least it's out of the way, I can take you seriously now."
She climbed happily off of him, more or less satisfied with her handiwork. It took Bithia a moment to realize that Anakin wasn't listening to a word, and another to follow his gaze downwards.
"Oh, you are such a boy!" she laughed, slapping him across the forehead. When Anakin rapidly started turning red, however, Bithia raised an eyebrow. "You've never…?" She trailed off, letting the question hang. He didn't answer.
The truth was, he had. Seen them, at least. But that was a literal lifetime ago, at an age far too young and in situations far too removed from this one to make the Corellian girl really understand why it wasn't the same. Besides, he could hardly get his mouth around her name at this point, much less the syllables of Tatooine.
Bithia, however, took his silence as an obvious answer. He couldn't blame her. The Jedi were often assumed celibate by the public, after all.
Oho.
With surprising clarity of thought, Bithia grabbed his hand and placed it firmly on her left breast. He stared.
"There," she said quietly, satisfied with his reaction. "Now you have. There's more, you know… more I could show you."
Anakin looked up at her, uncertain. "I… I mean, I don't – " he coughed, trying to clear the suddenly very inconvenient thickness from his throat " – don't want you to feel like you have to do any– "
He was cut off by the abrupt presence of her lips on his. Now that he had done before, but this was different. With Barriss it had been an experiment for both of them. She had been as clumsy as he, and even as they grew older and the experiments became more frequent, she was always light and a touch uncertain, so unlike the determined sparring partner he knew. So unlike Bithia, who knew just what she was doing, who was deep and tender and would bring out the perfect kiss, be it dead or alive.
When they parted, she smiled and said, "My apartment's not too far from here. The old farts won't miss you this late?"
Anakin shook his head, not entirely processing the question, only suddenly recognizing that he needed to know whatever it was he could learn from Bithia. He needed to know that moment.
"Don't worry about the money," she said with an air of conspiracy, standing up unsteadily, picking up her coat. "What the boss doesn't know won't kill him."