"Such a shame." Obi-Won turned and looked on as two aristocratic young boys watched the fourteen year old Malena stride past them. "Is the Jedi Code really that strict? Why waste a beauty like that?"
That night was the first time Obi-Won had ever dreamed of her. Their comment of her beauty being wasted had stuck in his head. Before then he hadn't thought of her as beautiful. She'd been just another padawan, learning how to wield the force just the same as he was. She was his friend, and they treated each other almost as brother and sister – when boys teased her, he defended her; when his family enquired after him and he was made to endure another encounter with his father, she would hold his hand afterward.
That night he dreamt of what it would be like to touch her intimately, and be the only one who had done so. To be her first and only lover. Such thoughts were blasphemous for a Jedi Knight, he knew. But better to imagine than to be caught off guard and act upon his feelings. It began innocent enough, his hand would linger on her shoulder, he would stroke her hand with his thumb as he held it in his palm. But then it wasn't enough. He would be hugging her and suddenly her arms would tighten around him and she would press herself against him, breathe on his collar, play with his foot with her own.
He'd woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, with the unfamiliar feel of an erection under his wool sheets. He was mortified and looked around wildly, half expecting his roommates to be staring at him as if he were obscene. It had been painful and he did not wish to relive it.
However, he would experience the same dream and the same result almost every night for the next two years.