The Return
folder
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,250
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,250
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Return
The Return
Author: Acaciah S
email: Acaciah@acaciahsrealm.com
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, OCs
Category: Romance, suspense
Disclaimer: All familiar characters & places belong to Uncle George,
the Great Flannelled One, all rights reserved to him. All
unfamiliar characters & places belong to me, with respective rights
to myself. No profits made from any of Uncle George's characters,
just some fun!
Genre: Star Wars Prequels, alt. universe
A/N: This fic was inspired by Hyperspace spoilers, but contains no actual spoilers itself. I was on the webcam most of last night and when I woke up this is what came out. PWP smutlet featuring you and your beloved Knight, you being whoever you want, and your beloved being whichever stud floats your boat.
The Clone Wars rages on; sometimes you manage to forget about the immediate danger until the Holonet News blurbs draw your attention to the danger your beloved is in. You want him to be all right; you promised him you would wait for him. "My love is as constant as the stars," you promised him. You didn't lie either, days have turned to weeks turned to months and finally to years, but the ache of his absence hasn't abated any.
On rare occasions he sends you holos to let you know he's all right, but for the most part communications are nil from the front lines. Would the Jedi Temple even let you know if something happens to him? You doubt it; they seem to have greater things on their collective minds now. The beep at your door shakes you out of your morbid reverie, and it slides open to reveal a hooded figure-your beloved knight is home! You squeal with delight and he tumbles into your arms; you clutch each other tightly in relief.
His blue eyes appraise you warmly. "You look exactly the way I remember," his sonorous baritone warms you from head to toe.
"You've changed," you observe, running your fingers through his sandy waves.
"I've missed you terribly," he says, his eyes roaming you hungrily. You were about to pop off to bed when the Holonet News Report had come on earlier, and you think your nightie might melt away just from the look in his eyes.
"Likewise," you throw him a saucy wink. "You hungry?"
"Only to get reacquainted," he responds, tugging at the nightgown, which slides into a puddle at your feet. He kisses you hungrily, cupping your breasts in his hands, long fingers curling around their twin curves. He wiggles his fingers and your panties join the rest of your garments in the puddle on the floor, and when your lips part you flash him an insouciant grin.
"Now Master Jedi, I don't think that's a Council-approved use of the Force," you tease him.
"War has made me a pragmatic man," he replies, grinning broadly and scooping your into his arms. He carries you into the bedroom and shimmies out of his Jedi garb. You prop up on one elbow and whistle at him saucily as he strips. Your beloved was a fine specimen of manhood before, and the war has honed him even further; he is broader, tauter than you remember.
"Suddenly I feel much more appreciated," he grins, sliding beside you on the bed.
"Mmm," you sigh happily and wrap yourself around him, lips seeking lips. He smells of salty sweat and smoke, the battlefield having left an indelible impression on him. His kisses cover your eyes, your brow, your cheeks, your jaw; he's staking his claim on you, his hunger fueled by separation and loss. You trace hinewynewy muscles and he groans softly, his eyes darkening with need. His lips move lower, laving at your leaping pulse, so delicate over your collarbone, nipping at the hardened peaks of your breasts. His fingertips roam over the swell of your hips and slide into the juncture between your thighs, testing your readiness for him. You grind against his nimble fingers, his eyes meet yours and he grins wickedly, assuring you he hasn't forgotten a thing in his absence. He looks as if he's about to pounce on you, but no, he waits, he kisses down your thighs and calves, down to the tips of your curling toes. He sees your fists curling into the sheet and chuckles softly, sliding up to look you in the eyes. "Ready, love?" he asks.
"That was a rhetorical question, right?" you ask, arms winding around his neck. He smiles again, his eyes twinkling, and you wonder how any man's eyes could be so blue. His lips cover yours and he sinks inside you slowly, relishing your hungry moan.
He begins to move inside you in long, deep strokes and you pull your legs up, urging him deeper inside you. More, you want more, and you twist beneath him, scratching at those muscled shoulders. You want every night he's been away, every horror he's witnessed, every triumph. You draw him closer as your bodies grind together, colliding against time and all these cursed events that have separated you for so long. When the first peak hits you, a triumphant gleam blooms in his eye.
You nip at his throat, tiny growls of pleasure coming out now as your mutual urgency grows. He's pushing you harder now, finesse leaves him and primal need takes over. Dear gods, he is beautiful! You think as bliss overtakes you both. He shudders inside you and collapses into your arms, his weight a welcome burden against your skin. "I love you," he whispers, and tears sting your eyes. "Don't cry," he soothes, wiping them away. "Someday I'll be able to stay," he promises. You can only nod, the tightness in your stomach easing for the moment. He's here now, and the two of you cuddle together and drift off to sleep, as somewhere inside your dreams you smell the smoke of battle fire.
Author: Acaciah S
email: Acaciah@acaciahsrealm.com
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, OCs
Category: Romance, suspense
Disclaimer: All familiar characters & places belong to Uncle George,
the Great Flannelled One, all rights reserved to him. All
unfamiliar characters & places belong to me, with respective rights
to myself. No profits made from any of Uncle George's characters,
just some fun!
Genre: Star Wars Prequels, alt. universe
A/N: This fic was inspired by Hyperspace spoilers, but contains no actual spoilers itself. I was on the webcam most of last night and when I woke up this is what came out. PWP smutlet featuring you and your beloved Knight, you being whoever you want, and your beloved being whichever stud floats your boat.
The Clone Wars rages on; sometimes you manage to forget about the immediate danger until the Holonet News blurbs draw your attention to the danger your beloved is in. You want him to be all right; you promised him you would wait for him. "My love is as constant as the stars," you promised him. You didn't lie either, days have turned to weeks turned to months and finally to years, but the ache of his absence hasn't abated any.
On rare occasions he sends you holos to let you know he's all right, but for the most part communications are nil from the front lines. Would the Jedi Temple even let you know if something happens to him? You doubt it; they seem to have greater things on their collective minds now. The beep at your door shakes you out of your morbid reverie, and it slides open to reveal a hooded figure-your beloved knight is home! You squeal with delight and he tumbles into your arms; you clutch each other tightly in relief.
His blue eyes appraise you warmly. "You look exactly the way I remember," his sonorous baritone warms you from head to toe.
"You've changed," you observe, running your fingers through his sandy waves.
"I've missed you terribly," he says, his eyes roaming you hungrily. You were about to pop off to bed when the Holonet News Report had come on earlier, and you think your nightie might melt away just from the look in his eyes.
"Likewise," you throw him a saucy wink. "You hungry?"
"Only to get reacquainted," he responds, tugging at the nightgown, which slides into a puddle at your feet. He kisses you hungrily, cupping your breasts in his hands, long fingers curling around their twin curves. He wiggles his fingers and your panties join the rest of your garments in the puddle on the floor, and when your lips part you flash him an insouciant grin.
"Now Master Jedi, I don't think that's a Council-approved use of the Force," you tease him.
"War has made me a pragmatic man," he replies, grinning broadly and scooping your into his arms. He carries you into the bedroom and shimmies out of his Jedi garb. You prop up on one elbow and whistle at him saucily as he strips. Your beloved was a fine specimen of manhood before, and the war has honed him even further; he is broader, tauter than you remember.
"Suddenly I feel much more appreciated," he grins, sliding beside you on the bed.
"Mmm," you sigh happily and wrap yourself around him, lips seeking lips. He smells of salty sweat and smoke, the battlefield having left an indelible impression on him. His kisses cover your eyes, your brow, your cheeks, your jaw; he's staking his claim on you, his hunger fueled by separation and loss. You trace hinewynewy muscles and he groans softly, his eyes darkening with need. His lips move lower, laving at your leaping pulse, so delicate over your collarbone, nipping at the hardened peaks of your breasts. His fingertips roam over the swell of your hips and slide into the juncture between your thighs, testing your readiness for him. You grind against his nimble fingers, his eyes meet yours and he grins wickedly, assuring you he hasn't forgotten a thing in his absence. He looks as if he's about to pounce on you, but no, he waits, he kisses down your thighs and calves, down to the tips of your curling toes. He sees your fists curling into the sheet and chuckles softly, sliding up to look you in the eyes. "Ready, love?" he asks.
"That was a rhetorical question, right?" you ask, arms winding around his neck. He smiles again, his eyes twinkling, and you wonder how any man's eyes could be so blue. His lips cover yours and he sinks inside you slowly, relishing your hungry moan.
He begins to move inside you in long, deep strokes and you pull your legs up, urging him deeper inside you. More, you want more, and you twist beneath him, scratching at those muscled shoulders. You want every night he's been away, every horror he's witnessed, every triumph. You draw him closer as your bodies grind together, colliding against time and all these cursed events that have separated you for so long. When the first peak hits you, a triumphant gleam blooms in his eye.
You nip at his throat, tiny growls of pleasure coming out now as your mutual urgency grows. He's pushing you harder now, finesse leaves him and primal need takes over. Dear gods, he is beautiful! You think as bliss overtakes you both. He shudders inside you and collapses into your arms, his weight a welcome burden against your skin. "I love you," he whispers, and tears sting your eyes. "Don't cry," he soothes, wiping them away. "Someday I'll be able to stay," he promises. You can only nod, the tightness in your stomach easing for the moment. He's here now, and the two of you cuddle together and drift off to sleep, as somewhere inside your dreams you smell the smoke of battle fire.