Private Lessons

Author: Kirixchi

Fandom: Star Wars

Rating: U Het

"Lower!"a rich voice commands you. A strong arm interposes itself unflinchingly between two crackling sabers and presses down on your wrist. The touch is electric, and you feel your knees weaken. Sensing this, your opponent lunges forward as the teacher twists away. You block, but the move is a fraction of a second too late. You feel the kiss of the searing-hot practice saber against your shoulder as you crumple to the ground.

Your instructor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, does not look pleased. And he ponders you with a scowl while you lay splay-legged on the mat, wishing you could simply melt into the padding and disappear. Looking away, you catch the gaze of your sparring partner, Dehorn Belk, whose eyes are twinkling mischievously. The purple-pink skin of her cheeks stretched in a wide grin that seems to swallow her entire face. She knows... you think to yourself, heart sinking, hoping she won't do anything else to give you away. But then, it couldn't be long now anyways. Almost all of the other Padawans know how you feel about your sword-play instructor.

You have wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi since the first day he walked into the middle of temple exercise grounds and announced that he was taking over almost a year ago. The other Padawans of your class swooned over Anakin, Kenobi's tall, charismatic, sandy-haired student, but you barely noticed him at all as you caught the flash of teal blue eyes and the serene, almost superior look that played on his Master's lips. For over a year, the attraction has grown. Festered, a distant corner of your mind chides. You have tried everything to win his notice...his approval. For months you have practiced swordplay alone in your chambers - Parried and dodged against imaginary foes until the muscles in the backs of your arms were too weak to lift a forkfull of food to your lips before collapsing into bed. And all of your work has led here - to an ungraceful sprawl on the polished temple floors.

"Unacceptable!" Suddenly, he is moving toward you. "Stand up!" He barks, and you do as he bids, in spite of the throbbing pain in your limbs.

Your eyes widen as you see Kenobi take a stance opposite you. "Lunge!" he commands, and you level your saber at his chest, thrusting forward. He backs away. With one arm, he casually shucks off his cloak while he parries your blow with the other.

You advance, weapon slashing. If you want to earn his respect, now is the moment. Parry. Lunge. Dodge. A flip away from a flanking blow. And then...

You suck your breath in suddenly as an almost unbearable pain sears your chest. You glance down, only to see a flicker of blue light as your opponent's blade is retracted, and a smouldering circle of burnt linen just above your left breast- Kenobi's saber is no practice weapon. One centimeter closer, a slight tremor in his wrist, and you would have been dead.

You meet his gaze, and think for an instant that you see a flash of concern. A blink, and it is gone, replaced by a frown deeper than the one before. "Practice," he says gruffly. The teal eyes flutter toward the charred fibers of your tunic, and then quickly dart away. "Be back here tonight at 11 o'clock."

You frown in puzzlement.

"Is there a problem with that Padawan?"

"No, sir."

"Eleven o'clock then."

"Yes, Master. I?" You start to reply, but find that he has already turned his attention to the next Padawan in line.

You hesitate as you enter the sparring chambers, unsure of what to expect. You were unavoidably detained after meditations by another instructor. Even though you ran through the endless levels of the temple to arrive on time, find the chambers empty and shadowed.

"You're late."

You heartbeat rising at the suddenness of the sound, you strain your eyes into the dimness.

"I don't tolerate tardiness." General Kenobi, Jedi master steps out from the shadows that bathe the room. He has changed from his traditional temple attire, and the stark blackness of his close-fitting shirt and pants blends seamlessly into the darkness. You let your gaze linger on the taut fabric, secure that your own eyes are equal shrouded by the lightlessness.

"Let's begin. You'll need to take that off..." He gestures in your general direction.

"Excuse me?" You gasp, unsure of what he means. The General seems, at the same moment, to be amused and exasperated.

"Your cloak, Padawan. We've all gotten a good idea of your sparring skills this morning. I think we need to start you out with as few impediments as possible."

You nod, embarrassed, and arch back your shoulders so that the cloak slides off and puddles at your feel on the floor.

Obi-Wan motions for you to follow him to the center of the room and he ignites his saber. The blue light shimmers off the polished floor. You can't help but admire the perfection of his form. A finely tuned physique and elegant weapon perfectly balanced for the strike.

"Most duels are won or lost before blades are ever drawn." He begins, and you find yourself disappointed that he has ruined the picturesque scene with a lecture on combat techniques. "The past and the future are irrevocably interwoven. Where your opponent was raised, his life skills, even what he ate for his last meal will all determine the fight to come."

He tosses you a practice saber, and begins to circle you. "What do you know about me?" He demands.

You hesitate. I know that you are beautiful. Brave. Powerful....Your mind begins to race through the possibilities; however, you answer, safely. "I know that you were raised in the temple. You have been a Jedi Knight for almost ten years, you defeated a Sith L-"

"No!" Obi-Wan accents the outburst with a slash of light. "What do you know about *me*...how I think?"

"You're too careful." You blurt out, surprising yourself, as well as Obi-Wan with your suddenness. "Very careful, I mean,." you bluster. "...and controlled... in a fight." His saber lowers slightly, and you feel the teal eyes wandering over your face, but you refuse to look up.

In another instant his saber is poised again. "Very well." He says evenly. "En guarde."

What do you know about me? You wonder, but barely have time to complete the thought before Obi-Wan comes slashing toward you.

You must have offended him by the remark about being cautious. His blows are anything but. However,in contrast to the morning, you find your control easily dodging and striking in a manner attesting to your long hours of study.

You circle the sparring area, no longer observing the limits of the rings or time. He pushes you against a wall, you lead him down a flight of stairs. Hacking. Slashing. The constant crash of the sabers rendering the air sweet with the smell of ozone. You can feel that your hair has gone loose from its stays. Your cheeks are flush and pink with exertion. The wild, unbound ghost of a reflection that slides across one of the broad windows looks nothing like the prim young Padawan who first entered the room.

"Enough!" Obi-Wan calls at last. He extinguishes his lightsaber and takes a few steps away, his breathing heavy and deep. The exertion has soaked his shirt with sweat, and your eyes are drawn to the way the damp fabric clings to the well-defined muscles of his chest. You bite you lip and try to focus- there is no way that you will last another round if you lose your concentration. Obi-Wan strangely, seems to be staring at you as well. And, embarrassed, you notice that the neck of your tunic is hanging open much wider than usual. The burn left by Obi-Wan's saber is just visible along the left edge. Self-consciously, you pull the fabric close around your body. Obi-Wan looks away. He kneels down and fetches something from the floor.

"Come here."

You do as you are bidden, trying to remain passive as Obi-Wan languidly holds out a sliver of dark silk and leans forward to tie it around your eyes. "It would seem that you were holding out on me," he whispers. "Let's see how well you can do now."

His long fingers, roughened by years of action, brush against your cheek, and you clench your teeth to keep from crying out. As his hands twist the fabric into a knot behind your head, you breathe deeply, sucking in his scent- a heady mixture of pine, sweat, and soap. You hold perfectly still, even though every fiber of your body is yearning toward him. Through the Force, you feel him pull away...very slowly.

"En guarde," he says again. This time in a whisper.

You raise your blade slowly, reaching out with the Force, trying to locate him. Up. You raise your weapon to deflect a downward slash, then spin backwards to avoid another parry from the side. You yelp in surprise as a third swipe slices through the shoulder of your tunic and exposing the breast bindings you wear underneath. Scurrying backwards, you claw up at the blindfold.

"Stop!" Obi-Wan's voice is insistent. "That's against the rules."

"But...I..." Your mouth is suddenly very dry. You are confused. Afraid. What is he going to do?

"Teach you a lesson." He says bluntly, not bothering to hide that he has read your thoughts, making you shiver with trepidation about what else he may have heard.

"Attack."

You barely have time to stumble forward to your feet before another sidelong blow hacks the other shoulder to ribbons. Embarrassed, but also angry to push forward, uncomfortably aware of the cool air on your exposed skin. You try to press him toward the wall, but his movements are too precise, too practiced. In three more easy moves, your trousers, like your tunic, are in ruins. Hot tears of humiliation prick at your eyes, but you refuse to back away. Step. Lunge. Strike.

Rip. With another quick, surgical strike, the straining ties of your bindings are released, and your breasts are freed. Obi-Wan makes a sound. Laughter?

And then all is silent. The electric hum of his weapon ends, and your turn your head from side to side, trying to anticipate what will happen next. Suddenly, you feel him very near almost...

With a low cry, your saber clatters to the floor.

Your body seizes up in surprise and excitement as you feel the moist pressure of his lips on your neck. "What?" You manage to choke out, but the will to speak dies on your lips as his hands snake around your waist, resting on your stomach, only inches away from your deepening ache.

"Part of the lesson..." He growls back, the heat of his breath causing the short hairs on the back of your neck to stiffen as a shiver runs down your spine. He moves one of the hands upwards to cup your right breast, his touch teasing the nipple to a tiny hard bud almost immediately. "...underestimating your opponent can have...consequences... I'm not always so careful you know."

You raise your hand to remove the blindfold, but are intercepted. "Leave that alone." He whispered. "How do you ever hope to get a proper education without the proper tools?"

The almost feral undertones of his voice overwhelm you and your knees buckle. Obi-Wan's free hand catches the small of your back and prevents you from collapsing to the floor. His other hand releases your breast, his finger catches under your chin, lifting it so that your blindfold is even with his eyes.

"Now." He growls. "Try again. What do you know about me...what do I want right now?"

You feel your heartbeat quicken with panic. What is he doing? Is it a trick? Confused, you blurt. "Are you going to fight me again?"

He laughs. "Perhaps...reach Padawan...come inside me...tell me what you see."

Your whole body begins to shake. You have practiced the mindarts before in class, but never like this. You practice sessions have been simple mind tricks. A scan for emotions...secrets. Anything more would be like rape, and you tremble with fear and fascination at the thought that Obi-Wan can lay himself so naked and still maintain such perfect control.

"Come Padawan." He urges again. He pulls your head against his chest, your forehead sliding against the silky blackness of his skirt as the sound of his heartbeat fills your ears. Still fearful, you do as you are told, steadying your body against his for support as you reach toward his mind with the Force, training your thoughts to him, reaching out with tiny whispers of the Force as though you are clawing for the rung of a ladder, or a rope handing just out of reach. Sensing your inexperience, he comes to you and the connection floods your senses with white hot heat? the thought- you draw back so sharply that you both nearly tumble to the floor. Again, his hands prevent you from falling, and so you simply lay against his chest, trying to regain your breath, Shocked by the un-tempered lust he doesn't bother to hide.

"What do I want?" he repeats again.

You know. You saw it very clearly in his mind.

-fin-