Slave to Love

TITLE: Slave to Love, 7/7
AUTHOR: Ginny Powell
SUMMARY: A few weeks after Ep1, Obi and Anakin are visited
by strange dreams.
TYPE: Romance, het smut, with a mystery plot
RATING: NC-17, from page 1 (I am so proud of myself ;-)
PAIRING: Obi/OFC

WARNINGS: Explicit sex. Wait a minute, that’s not a
warning, that’s an incentive!

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own them, but I’m sure George Lucas’
Mommy taught him to share his toys, especially the pretty
ones. No Jedi were harmed in the writing of this fic; in
fact, several had a very good time.

CRITIQUE: I’m always interested in improving, so if you
spot something stupid, tell me. Or if you really like a
certain line, tell me. On or off list is fine.
wmginnypowell@yahoo.com


“I’ve been haunted in my sleep,
You’ve been starring in my dreams”
– Miss You, the Rolling Stones


“I keep my visions to myself”
– Dreams, Fleetwood Mac

Part VII – Honeymoon

Obi-Wan Kenobi groaned, tried to open his eyes, found it
too difficult. He was exhausted, completely drained, as
though he’d taken on a battalion of battle droids alone.
But he couldn’t remember such a battle. In fact, he
couldn’t remember anything. All he knew was that the comm
was buzzing, and he should answer it.

This time he did manage to get his eyelids to rise. The
first thing he saw was a golden fog, which made no sense to
him until his eyes finally focused and he realized it was
hair. Lovely golden hair. Sekina’s hair. Oh, yeah.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he rolled off the
couch, landing with a thump on the floor. Climbing to his
feet, he managed to get his breeches fastened and run a
hand through his hair before he reached the comm panel. He
glanced back once at Sekina, watched her turn onto her side
with a contented sigh. Then he reached across the kitchen
counter and pressed the “answer” button.

“Mace was right, I see,” Master Yoda said, his image
filling the tiny screen. “Unable to resist her, you are.”

“How did you-” Obi-Wan started to ask.

“Not a difficult thing to know, is it,” Yoda interrupted.
“Know it everyone in the Temple does, perhaps everyone on
Coruscant. Like a supernova it was. Lights flickered in
the Council chamber, they did.”

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan cursed, dropping his head into his
hands. How many times was he to be publicly humiliated in
one day?

“Too disruptive it is,” Yoda was saying. “Away she must
go. A transport waits in hangar four.”

“You’re sending her away?” Obi-Wan looked up, incredulous.
“Where? You can’t-”

“If she stays, you can promise it will not happen again?”

“Force help me, I cannot,” Obi-Wan sighed.

“Then she must go. And you with her,” the Master hastened
to add. “Punishment this is not. Damage control it is,
yes.”

“Where are you sending us?” the Knight asked, slightly
mollified at the idea of accompanying Sekina.

“The retreat on Malki IX.” Obi-Wan nodded, remembering the
time he and Qui-Gon had visited there. An underground
network of caves high in the mountains of an icy planet, it
was maintained completely by droids, a place for Jedi to
practice meditation or recover from traumatic experiences
without disturbance. “Study her we must,” Yoda went on.
y poy powerful is she.” The small green being seemed to
drift off for a moment, then recovered. “Details we will
determine later. Go you to hangar four in one hour.”

“But what about Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked hurriedly, as Yoda
leaned forward to end the transmission.

“Let us worry about him for now. May the Force be with
you.” And Yoda’s image darkened and was gone.

------

An hour later, Obi-Wan and Sekina walked into hangar four
and approached their ship. They knew it was their ship
because it was the only one there. During the entire walk
from Obi-Wan’s apartment, they had met no one, and now they
found the port strangely empty and silent. The Council
wasn’t taking any chances, Obi-Wan reflected.

Though he had been half hoping they might be given the
Vigor, he was not disappointed to find an older, but still
serviceable, MP97. The Vigor was probably needed as part
of however the Council was keeping Anakin busy, and the
MP97 was famed for its comfortable sleeping quarters. As
they boarded, they found no crew, their course preset.
Obi-Wan slid into the pilot’s chair while Sekina took their
two small bags to find the personal area.

He leaned up to the communications grille, held down a
button. “Control, this is-”

“Yeah, yeah,” came the reply, cutting him off. “Get on
outta here so we can get back to work.”

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at the comm, decided it required
no reply. As he taxied out of the hangar and chose a
runway – as they were all empty, he simply took the closest
– he thought that, no matter how happy that controller had
been to see him go, he couldn’t be as glad as Obi-Wan was
to be going.

He took off, cleared the atmosphere, checked the hyperspace
coordinates, engaged hyperdrive. As the ship settled into
the smooth ride of hyperspace, Obi-Wan stood and stretched.
He still felt a little tired, he supposed because of his
erratic schedule the last several nights. Perhaps he
should get some sleep on the journey.

Then Sekina stepped into the cabin and he forgot all about
sleep.

She was wearing a big smile, and a very short robe of black
silk. “Do you like it?” she asked eagerly, spinning
around, the tails flying out as she did.

“Yes, very much,” Obi-Wan replied as he closed the distance
between them. Vivi must have put together a few things for
Sekina. He made a mental note to thank her with a nice
gift, perhaps a new nose stud. He reached Sekina, took the
robe’s tie in his hands. “It’s a pity you’ll be wearing it
for so short a time.” And he pulled the tie, loosing the
bow, allowing the robe to fall open.

Sekina just smiled even more broadly, let him pull her into
his arms. Her head fell back as he nuzzled her neck. Then
she took his hand from her waist and led him to the
quarters she had prepared.

------

Obi-Wan had no idea how long the annoying beeping had been
going on; he just wanted it to stop. But as he came slowly
awake, becoming aware of Sekina’s body spooned against him,
and remembered where he was, he realized that beep meant
they were nearing their destination. If it had been going
on as long as he feared, they might already be in orbit
around Malki IX. Time to get up.

His body didn’t want to respond to his command, and it took
a long time to extricate himself from Sekina and the
sheets. As he’d suspected, he’d done little sleeping,
though he had spent a lot of time on his back. He wasn’t
so much tired as he was really, really relaxed. Not even
bothering to dress, he made his way forward to the cockpit.

They were indeed in orbit around Malki IX. Turning off the
beeping indicator, he noticed another light flashing.
Someone had sent them a message, undoubtedly of the “hey,
you in orbit around our planet – identify yourself”
variety. As the Jedi station was the only settlement on
the inhospitable planet, its lack of indigenous life being
another factor in its selection as a retreat, and they were
expected, keeping them waiting shouldn’t be a problem. But
since he had no idea how long they had already been
waiting, answering the message seemed like a good idea.

He watched the message, from a silver bipedal droid, and
not a very sophisticated one. As it droned on –
identifying itself, welcoming them, sending landing
coordinates – Obi-Wan considered that sometimes personality
was an asset in a droid. But not here; this might be the
only one on the planet programmed to talk. It would be a
quiet, peaceful stay here, just him and Sekina, a warm
blanket, and a cold night. Smiling goofily, he answered
the message, then headed back aft to dress.

---End Slave to Love, Part 7: Honeymoon---
---End fic (until I finish the sequel)---