Chapter Text
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
Satine backed up a step until she could feel the heat of his chest against her back, feeling the reassuring thump of his ever-steady heart. She spoke in a hushed tone beneath her breath as they stalled in front of a large, unmarked door at the end of a long quiet alleyway. There was one single light to the left of the doorway, glowing a bright, enticing pink, and the unmistakable sound of music thumping from behind the barrier. It had been a very long time since she had walked through a door like this.
The Duchess and the Jedi had lasted barely two hours at an exceedingly boring auction to raise funds for children displaced by the war, a worthy cause of course, but when Satine heard the words ‘let’s get out of here,’ whispered in that crisp Coruscanti accent, she reasoned quickly that she’d already made her contribution and her presence wasn’t raising additional funds…
She’d agreed without a word.
The pair had slipped her security, sneaking out of the opera house and into the city beyond, a metropolis Satine had never even heard of, her body buzzing as he pulled her along, her fingers laced in his, glancing at every hidden corner, wondering when he would finally throw her up against the stone and kiss her like she so badly craved. Obi-Wan insisted he had never been to the mid-rim system either, but seemed to know his way around the woven streets and alleys, barely looking around for signs or indicators. Perhaps he was lying about his familiarity with the city, though she thought it more likely he had either used military intelligence to scout the area ahead of time or was running on intuition alone, knowing him, it was likely both.
“Relax, darling,” Obi-Wan purred, placing a steady hand on the small of her back and ushering her into the small dark saloon waiting behind the heavy door. An oblong bar was settled in the middle of the space, glowing the same bright pink as the light at the entrance — it was also the only source of the light in the room as far as Satine could tell. The blush tone carried through the tavern on a strange fog that gathered around their feet, giving the illusion of constant movement. As they walked past the bar, Satine ducked her head, pulling her hood more securely around her to hide her face as she glanced around at the beings populating the space, most obscured by harsh shadow.
Obi-Wan’s firm touch traveled dangerously down her spine as he steered her through the tavern to a table in the back, a dark booth tucked away in the corner. Satine took a seat on the plush bench, tucking herself back into the corner, her eyes still scanning the room apprehensively. To her surprise, instead of taking the chair across from her, Obi-Wan glided gracefully into the booth to her right, positioning his body to shield her from the other patrons.
“There is nothing to worry about,” he hummed, his mischievous smile showing through in his shining eyes, which still somehow looked blue in the low fuschia tone of the bar. He leaned in closer, his eyes flicking down for a moment and lingering on her lips, “no one here will recognize you.”
When his fingers caught her chin she couldn’t help but be pulled in by the sheer gravity of him, the other lifeforms populating the bar suddenly the farthest thing from her mind. It was barely a kiss, his lips brushing hers ever so gently, a whisper of a promise and not nearly enough. Turning her chin to the side, Satine felt the soft bristle of his beard against her cheek, and she could only hope he didn’t hear her pathetic whimper above the music as it fell from her lips.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered into her ear, Satine leaning almost instinctively into him, swaying forward as he pulled away. When he stood from the table he held her gaze, taking a few backward steps, then throwing her a wink and striding up to the bar.
Satine’s eyes danced around the tavern, music loud in her ears as she tried to orient herself. It had been years since she’d enjoyed a night in an establishment like this, hardly ever able to find the opportunity for a drink in a politically approved lounge, let alone a darkened dive like this one. It wasn’t without its charm, of course, filling her with a certain naughty nostalgia, remembering the nights she and Baze would sneak out of the palace and dawn fake names until the bartender signaled last-call and they stumbled back home. She hadn’t felt that mischievous thrill in some time, but when her eyes focused on her Jedi, she felt it stirring, hot and insistent in her belly once again. If anyone could make her feel like that, it was him.
To her great interest, Obi-Wan seemed perfectly at home in the seedy tableau, like he’d been there a million times, moving with easy confidence as he returned to their table with two tumblers of a glowing blue liquid. Sliding back in beside her, the wide smile on Obi-Wan’s lips waned ever so slightly as he studied her face, “if you’re uncomfortable, we can leave,” he said seriously, “but I can assure you, you are safe here with me.”
That she knew to be true.
With a sideways smile and a nod, Satine sipped her drink, sucking in a harsh breath at the acrid burn of liquor before it faded to a delightful sweetness that bordered on just the right side of cloying. She wanted to hate it, but as the aftertaste turned pleasant and herbal, she wasn’t quite sure.
“What is this?” Satine asked, looking over to find Obi-Wan lowering his hood, causing her to exclaim in horror, “Ben!”
Quickly she reached for the rough brown fabric to conceal that handsome face of his once again, but her movement froze when strong fingers circled her wrists. His eyes were soft with concern and understanding. “Do you trust me?” Obi-Wan breathed, leaning in so close she could feel the heat of his words.
It was hardly a question.
“Yes.”
“Forget about them,” he whispered, releasing his gentle grip on her wrists and raising his hands to slowly and cautiously lower her hood as well, giving her more than enough time to protest. His thumb grazed her cheek when the pulsing pink light fell on her face, smiling in a way that made her feel like she might melt, “there you are.”
Lifting his glass to his lips, he took a long sip, seeming completely unphased by the strength of the drink. He shifted slightly in his seat, stretching his left arm along the back of the booth behind her shoulders, his body turned toward her, posture open and relaxed as he smiled at her.
“Thank you for coming with me,” Obi-Wan purred, his head cocked to one side, absently running his middle finger along the rim of his glass in a way that made her lick her lips, “I needed to get out of there.”
“Of course,” Satine grinned, taking another sip of her drink and deciding that, on a second evaluation, she quite liked it, “I couldn’t stand to see you looking so miserable much longer anyway.”
“Some might say I look quite handsome when I brood,” he said, faux hurt in his voice, failing to hide the charming smile splitting his lips.
“You weren’t brooding,” she laughed, still careful to keep her voice down, hoping not to draw any unwanted attention, “you were sulking.”
“Perhaps,” the Jedi admitted with a chuckle and an enticing grin, heat radiating from his body like an energy core.
A large hand fell to her knee, exposed through the slit of her dress, a calloused thumb brushing over the bare skin. His fingers were still cold and wet from the condensation on his glass, the chill making heat pool in her stomach. She didn’t flinch or pull away, though she felt like she should.
“Or perhaps I just needed to get you alone.”
Their noses were practically touching he was so close to her, his eyes narrow and dangerous, sucking on his tongue as his hand began to trail dangerously up her thigh.
“But we’re not alone,” she breathed, her brain screaming at her to stop the delectable travel of his hand while her body begged for all the pleasure she knew his touch could bring.
“I promise you,” Obi-Wan whispered, nuzzling in close, his lips trailing over the shell of her ear, “no one is paying us any mind.”
A gasp escaped her lips when he nipped at her earlobe, breathing an involuntary note of satisfaction as he began to place heated kisses to her neck. Satine willed her eyes open, not realizing she’d let them fall shut, looking over his shoulder at the other beings enjoying their night. He was right. No one in the bar seemed to even notice they were there. Had anyone looked at them when they walked in? She realized with a bit of trepidation that she hadn’t even seen Obi-Wan order their drinks. No, as far as she knew, not a soul had so much as glanced at them since they’d arrived.
“Are you—,” her voice was small and hesitant. It was difficult to put all the pieces together with his eager lips on her neck and his hand drifting higher and higher up her leg, “are you controlling them?”
“Think of it as— making a suggestion,” he breathed, hot and hungry against her skin, squeezing her inner thigh far higher than was decent, drawing something between a squeal and a moan from her lips as her legs drifted apart of their own accord, “pay no attention to the couple in the corner.”
Satine was horrified to find that she wasn’t just impressed by the display of power, she was turned on. It was a wretched thing to interfere with someone’s mind, their thoughts, their being, one of the reasons Mandalorians despised the Jedi and their magic so deeply. But here, in the pink haze of a dirty bar, his fingers trailing up her leg, his mouth pressed hot and needy to the hollow of her neck, groaning roughly against her skin, it all just felt so good.
“I want to touch you, make you feel good,” Obi-Wan purred, his teeth dragging across her jaw, fingers stalling just short of the pulsing heat between her legs, his voice low and needy.
It was a dizzying proposal, allowing him to touch her in a room of a dozen other sentients, so dirty and indecent and oh so delectable in its brazenness. There had always been something so thrilling about sneaking around with him, the persistent worry that they might get caught, their constant need to push it further and further.
“May I?”
'No,' screamed her logical mind.
“Yes,” spoke her eager lips.
The combination of his light confident touch and the beautiful, rough moan he breathed against her skin as he discovered her bare beneath her gown, sent a bolt of electricity through her, whimpering quietly and clutching onto the table in front of her with one hand, widening the spread of her legs without thought.
“And here I thought I was the one with all the surprises,” he purred in her ear, licking over that sensitive hollow just behind her jaw, his touch trailing through her wet heat, one finger dipping just barely inside before continuing his maddeningly gentle strokes.
The fingers that weren’t gripping the table fisted in the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, trying to keep her breath even, her body tightening every time he grazed over that sensitive button, noticing the way he smiled against her skin. When he slipped his middle finger inside, he crashed his lips to hers, swallowing the moan that escaped her lungs, her body shuddering in pleasure.
It was the first time he’d properly kissed her all night, she realized, and for a moment she wanted to laugh, but as he crooked his finger just so, the thought was gone before it had even taken root.
“So wet for me already,” he growled, against her mouth, dragging his finger slowly in and out, nipping at her bottom lip as they parted in a gasp, “you’re going to be dripping down your legs by the time we get back to your room.”
She wanted to say it was a bit presumptive of him to assume he’d be joining her in her room, but then, of course, who was she kidding?
“Maybe I’ll take you in the shower,” Obi-Wan mused, his maddening tongue licking along her lower lip, tasting the whimpers she couldn’t hold back, “or maybe I’ll clean you with my mouth.”
With a strangled moan, Satine’s head rolled back and Obi-Wan took full advantage of the opportunity to attach his mouth to her throat, licking and kissing, the occasional nip making her body shudder.
Since their reunion, most of their time together had been spent over comm, sometimes with the projector on, but often simply laying in bed listening to him talk. It used to drive her mad, the way he seemed to never run out of words, now she never wanted him to stop, the timbre of his voice an almost bewitching song.
“It’s not the first time you’ve let me touch you like this,” Obi-Wan whispered against her collarbone, his words somehow audible above the blaring music, “out in the open where someone might see.”
The memory was seared in her mind, a young gorgeous Obi-Wan flying high from a successful mission looking like something out of a dream in black and red, pressing her against a wall, so close she could taste his breath, his hand beneath her dress, fingers pulling moans from her lips in long lazy strokes.
She had given in just as easily then as she was now — it was laughable — she never could resist him.
Back then they’d been so young, so hungry, and so incredibly naive.
Back then it hadn’t ended well.
“Mm, this time we won’t get caught,” he murmured as if he’d read her mind, teasing a second finger at her entrance, humming an almost cruel laugh against her skin, his thumb brushing teasingly over that bud of nerves between her thighs, enough to make her whole body tense in anticipation but not enough to give her the friction she craved, “unless, of course— that’s what you want?”
It was difficult to tell if the gasp that rang from her lips was at his words or his actions as he filled her with two saber-rough fingers, her knuckles turning white where she gripped the table, her other hand scrambling at the belt around his waist, needing something to hold on to.
“Would you like that?” Obi-Wan purred, his lips bristling along her jaw, “would you like it if someone watched?”
Satine said nothing. There were no words, they’d left her when that first finger had entered and she didn’t see a world in which she found her voice before she found release.
But he was having far too much fun teasing her to give in just yet.
“I could do that, you know—,”
His voice was low and deep, almost dark in the way it burrowed through her, his fingers crooking so intentionally at the break in his sentence, his thumb still allusively brushing her clit, her hips bucking indecently as she chased the feeling of his touch.
“They would never remember your face—,”
She was only vaguely aware that her moans were getting louder, the hand that was on the table now gripping his far shoulder, her blurring vision focusing briefly past her Jedi and into the bar, all the patrons still far more interested in their drink than they were in the duchess getting fingered by a Jedi in the corner.
“I could bring one of them to sit right here—,”
The shiver that ripped through her made him laugh and Satine felt her face flush with fury and embarrassment. He rarely flexed his powers like this and, foolishly, she hadn’t thought much about how much stronger he must be now. It was intoxicating.
“They could watch you as you fall apart on my fingers—,”
Satine felt herself clench around the fingers inside her at his words and she did not miss the blazing cocky smile that split his lips, sexy in a way she hated to admit but couldn’t deny. His eyes were black with desire, the barest corona of blue still licking along the edge like a blue dwarf in full eclipse. He held her gaze for just a moment, pressing his tongue between his teeth before curling his fingers and chuckling as her head rolled back.
“They would never know they’d just seen a duchess fall to a Jedi—,”
The way he growled set her skin on fire. He’d always done that, a sound that, looking at him in all his put-upon Jedi serenity, no one would ever think him capable of until his voice was low and rough and rumbling in your ear.
“No—, no I wouldn’t do that—,”
His tone was true and teasing in equal measure, a low rumbling in his chest that made her shiver. The rhythm he’d set was methodical, drawing her closer to oblivion with each stroke of his fingers, each bare brush of his thumb. Every movement was intentional, like he was executing a perfectly organized battle plan.
“That would be cruel—,”
Cruel. It’s the way she might have described the evasive teasing brush of his thumb if he hadn’t chosen that moment to press down on that perfect spot at the apex of her thighs, drawing a desperate moan from her lips as she clambered to hold on to him.
“To make them forget—,”
She was teetering on a razor's edge now and the smile he pressed against her throat told her he knew it, his thumb drawing deliberate, delicate circles, drawing moans and whimpers that should never be heard in public.
“To steal that memory—,”
Everything began to fade, the music, the bar, the city, the auction. It was just her Jedi and his magic fingers and his teasing thumb and his rumbling voice and all the beings who could choose to ignore his suggestion at any time and the neon pink fog that seemed to hug every inch of her.
“You are just so beautiful when you come.”
And then there was nothing at all, only pleasure, burning hot in her belly, her vision gone white in ecstasy and she could only hope the sounds she made were not entirely undignified, though she wasn’t sure she could care even if she’d screamed his name.
“So beautiful.”
His voice seemed to be coming from everywhere, wrapping her in a wild comforting embrace, his fingers still gently stroking her quivering walls as she came down from the miraculous high prickling over her skin like electricity.
When she came back to herself his fingers were drawing soothing circles into the slick skin of her inner thighs, grounding her in the moment. In a daze, Satine sat up straighter, reaching out a still shaking hand to clutch the tumbler of blue liquor in front of her, throwing it back the burning liquid in one swallow and placing the glass back down with a clap and only a slight wince.
Obi-Wan looked at her with raised eyebrows, an impressed expression on his face.
“Can I get you something else, Your Highness?”
Without a single thought her hands fisted in his tunic, pulling his lips roughly to hers, licking into his mouth and humming contentedly at the wild taste of him on her tongue. He kissed her back with a feral hunger that seemed to radiate from his very core, growling that rough needy tone against her mouth.
“You can get me back to my room.”