DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Obi-Wan slept. He dreamed.
He was on Naboo. Around him, the swampy, misty air pulsed and glowed in the morning light. He could smell the damp, earthy scent of rotting undergrowth and mud. He was sinking in it, up to his knees. He smelled something else. Flowers.
"Master!"
Obi-Wan turned his head towards the sound, unable to move in the mud which now engulfed his thighs in an oozing mass, sucking at his boots. A bantha loomed behind him, snuffling, sending puffs of fog swirling around Obi-Wan's head. The monstrous creature was swathed in jungle flowers, garlands of vines and blooms entwined throughout its hairy hide, sprouting from its thick skin.
"Master!" Anakin's voice came from inside the bantha. The beast opened its mouth, a great gaping maw of fetid breath and saliva. Anakin clambered out, his small body fairly bouncing with glee.
"Master! You should do it too. It's fun."
"Are you sure you are well enough to travel?"
"Yes." Merel stood and regarded him silently from across the table, an unfathomable look in her tanned eyes.
Obi-Wan had known the answer to that question but felt compelled to ask it anyway.
They had eaten a silent breakfast. She wore clothing he'd convinced her to accept, a sand-colored shirt and loose grey pants which hung from her slender hips.
He stared at her, standing there, with remorse in his gaze. He didn't want to part under such strained circumstances, but didn't know what else to say. "I can't force you to stay."
"No." She looked no happier than he.
"Well then." Obi-Wan arose and crossed wearily to the door. "Let me get you a cloak. Yours was destroyed."
He was surprised when she followed him. They trailed to the bedroom without speaking, the air thick with unhappy tension.
They reached his closet and Obi-Wan pulled a long, heavy woven robe from its depths. He swiveled to find her hovering mere inches from him, looking at him.
"Well," he began, "here you g--"
"Wait," she interrupted him. "One thing first."
"Yes?" It was a question.
She didn't reply, but raised a hand to his face. She cupped his chin in her fingers, tangling them in his beard. Her thumb slid up to caress his lips.
"Touch my face," she ordered, softly.
Obi-Wan was captivated by her gentle tone. He could only obey. He brought his free hand up between them, and slid tentative fingers over the underside of her jaw. He skated them over her smooth lips, then up, over the line of her nose, to caress her brow. She closed her eyes and parted her lips, turning them into his soft palm, adding its heat to her cheek.
They stood like that for moments, or an eternity, Obi-Wan did not know which.
She moved first. Her free hand sought out his and wrested the cloak from his fingers, dropping it to the floor. She pulled his palm up to lay it against her other cheek. She entwined her other hand in the strands of his hair behind his head and tugged herself toward him, resting her weight the gentle hands cradling her head.
Obi-Wan's mind cleared of questions. He could only feel the Force of the silent moment, sinuous between them. He leaned into her grasp until he could taste the heat of her breath. He touched soft lips to hers.
She stiffened for an instant, as if unused to the sensation. But only for an instant. She soon relaxed under his light kiss, sliding her lips against the wet warmth of his mouth.
They stayed like that for another eternity, fingers lightly tracing cheeks and brows while their breaths mingled. She never opened her eyes.
Her moist lips were tinged with the tartness of the fruit she'd eaten. They tasted of other things as well. They tasted of wind. They tasted of desert sunlight. Obi-Wan wanted more. He tightened his grip on her face and yanked her to him, pushing her mouth open with his, deepening the kiss.
She melted into him. Her slick tongue pushed inward past his lips and teeth. She sucked at him, drinking him.
She freed her hands to slide down his back as she kissed him, stroking the taut muscles tensed beneath the thin material. Her groping fingers moved up inside his shirt, massaging warm, smooth skin, pulling his body ever tighter against hers.
Her burning caress was a shock to his system, each desperate grasp sending lightning coursing through his veins to coalesce into a tight, hot ball in his belly. When her fingers reached down in one quick movement and gripped his hardening length, enveloping him in heat, he nearly disintegrated.
Obi-Wan wrenched his mouth from hers and grabbed her hand, yanking it away as if he'd been burned. He gazed at her in alarm as they stood inches apart, both of them breathing heavy, faces flushed.
He tore his mind free from the haze of desire. What were they doing? What was she doing? She'd been angry, ready to leave, only minutes ago. And he-he was surely past this sort of thing, wasn't he?
"Why are you doing this?" Obi-Wan finally found the voice to ask her. He was half-afraid of the answer.
She didn't reply, but only gazed at him through glazed, heavy-lidded eyes, her shoulders rising and falling with her shortened breath.
"It's not because you feel you owe me, is it?" He couldn't stop the words. "Is it?"
"No."
He wasn't sure he believed her. "You should leave."
"I will leave later." So saying, she tugged her hand free and in one quick movement, pulled her shirt off, over her head, baring her glowing, glorious skin.
That was good enough for Obi-Wan. His shirt joined hers on the floor a moment later.
Merel launched herself against his muscled chest, knocking him backwards onto the bed. The two of tangled in a flurry of hungry wet kisses and hastily-abandoned clothing.
Obi-Wan got to kiss the breasts he'd admired earlier, small and firm but soft under his questing hands and lips. He blazed a trail down her torso with the gentle roughness of his tongue, from her nipples to her belly and back again, drinking in the salty desert taste of her skin.
She moaned, twining her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth back up to hers for another ravenous embrace. He stretched himself over her from head to toe as she devoured him, his warm weight pressing her into the mattress.
Every inch of her felt incredible. Obi-Wan wanted her. Some part of his mind was surprised at how much, and how fast it had happened.
But his senses would not allow him conscious thought. Even now, her taut body strained beneath his, slim thighs encircled his waist, pressing her belly up against his hardness, torturing him with every movement. He propped his arms beneath her shoulders as he kissed her, straining with need but hesitant to take the last step.
Suddenly, she tore her mouth from his and dug the heels of her hands into his shoulders, pushing him up, away from her. Her sweaty body wriggled out from beneath as she rolled him to his side.
Obi-Wan was nonplussed. "What's--"
"Wait," she whispered. "This way." She rolled over until she was face down beneath him, her back pressed against his chest. One hand snaked out to clasp his, bringing it to her lips. She pressed his palm to her cheek and pulled his thumb into her mouth, sucking on it. She arched up to her knees, never releasing his warm, calloused fingers.
He understood. He hadn't quite... but he ached to be inside her-- even now, she brushed her moist heat against his hard length sinuously, silently pleading.
"I want to see you," he whispered.
"See me with your hands," she rasped, and nibbled the inside of his wrist.
Obi-Wan was lost. He clasped her face, pulling her head back even as he pushed himself inside her.
She cried out against his palm, a cry of pleasure. "Please," she whispered.
She was so slick, she felt so incredible, and it had been so long...Obi-Wan moaned and propped himself against the bed with his free hand, grasping at the covers, and began to move inside her, rocking against her.
Sweat ran between them as they swayed together, but whether it was his or hers, Obi-Wan didn't know and didn't care.
For intense minutes there was no sound but their breathing, and that of their skin sliding together, meeting with every thrust. Nothing but their two bodies and the lonely expanse of desert outside. Obi-Wan felt a fiery tightness begin to build within, engulfing his limbs in a furious languor.
Soon her movements became more frantic, more desperate. She cried something aloud in a tongue Obi-Wan did not know, a hoarse wail pulled from within. She bit down on his finger, hard, then fell forward, trembling.
Obi-Wan had to slide his hand from her face to clutch her chest, hold her against him. Lightning struck at the base of his spine, and he shuddered, spilling himself inside her.
He collapsed, gasping, on top of her. They lay entwined for several minutes while they remembered how to breathe.
She was so quiet that after a while, Obi-Wan began to fear he was crushing her. He rolled on his side and reached for her, gathering her into his arms. She opened sandy eyes to look at him, and he was filled with emotion at the happy pleasure he saw in their depths.
"That was nice," he whispered to her, an outrageous understatement. "This is nice."
"Yes," she whispered back. "It was." Her eyes, gazing into his blue ones, suddenly filled with an incomprehensible fear.
She rolled out of his embrace and off the side of the bed. She stood, naked and glistening with sweat, and stared at him for a moment with an unfathomable look in her eyes. Then she crossed the room and began to pluck clothing from the floor.
"Where are you going?" he wanted to know, perplexed. He already felt cold without her.
"Home."
"Home? But I thought you might..." Might what? Stay and talk to him? Stay and do it again? The idea wasn't unpleasant.
But she was changed. Somehow, her face, her whole demeanor had changed, in an instant. What was wrong? Obi-Wan couldn't conceive what he'd done to make her look at him that way.
"Must leave," she stated simply, voice neutral, as she began to dress.
He couldn't think of a thing to say, he was so stunned. "Well, if you must," he mumbled, and rose to assist her, to try and make up for whatever wrong he'd perpetrated.
But she thrust out a hand to stay him from across the room. Already clothed, she strode to where her breathing mask lay on a chair, forgotten for days. She hefted it in her hands and gazed at it for a moment, as if searching the eyes of a disembodied head. Then she turned to Obi- Wan. "Goodbye, Ben."
"Goodbye?" His voice was upset. "Goodbye? What do you mean by that? What's wrong?" he finally asked her. "Will you come back?"
"No." Her voice held a note of finality as she stepped from the room, his cloak draped across her shoulders.
But somehow he'd already known the answer, before she even gave it to him. He stared at the empty door for a moment. His soul was in turmoil. There were a thousand things he wanted to do at that moment-run after her, yell at her, forget her-but in the end, he did nothing but stand in place and listen to the front door slide shut behind her.
After all, he'd already learned what he needed to know about the Sand People. They weren't savages. They hid their numbers. And they took what they could get.