Slave to Love

TITLE: Slave to Love, 1/7
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 I - First Sending

“My hero, you have delivered me. Come and claim your
prize.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, looked around in confusion.
He was in a somewhat desolate landscape, the ground
stretching to the horizon on all sides in one low, flat
plain dotted with rocks. Nearer him, a large rock trickled
a tiny stream of water onto the dirt below, creating a
circle of green several feet in diameter. The rock cast a
cool shadow over them in the morning sun. Right in front
on him, indeed up against him, was a woman. Her hair was a
cascade of golden ringlets, her eyes startlingly green.
She wore almost nothing – three triangles of cloth from
which flowed a few transparent scarves. Her face was
turned up to him like an offering.

“I require no prize,” he said as he took the strange woman
by the shoulders and gently pushed her away. “And your
deliverance is not yet complete.” Obi-Wan could feel a
dark presence over the northern horizon, distant but
strong. And in stark contrast to the waves of energy that
seemed to travel from the woman directly to his groin.

“The transport will be here soon,” the woman replied,
stepping back up against him. “We’ve naught to do but
wait.” Her hands began to roam his body, caressing his
chest, his arms, his shoulders. “Please, deliver me from
the memory of Juckolda’s touch as you delivered me from his
slavery.”

Her eyes were pleading, her hands insistent, her smell
intoxicating. The energy she continued to emit seemed to
enfold him and pull him in, so that even as part of him
wondered why he had no memory of this woman or a Juckolda,
or of rescuing the one from the other, he found himself
leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

The contact was electric. Warmth seemed to rush into him,
the energy that had engulfed him now entering him. He felt
as though he was glowing, desire thrumming along his veins,
prickling across his skin. His reservations washed away by
the wave of lust, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around the woman
and drew her tightly to him, realizing as he did so that
they were suddenly nude. But there was no time to ponder
that mystery, as she was pulling him down with her to the
soft green grass.

They rolled back and forth in the grass, first one and then
the other on top, their limbs and tongues entwining, their
hands roaming, exploring. In an effort to slow things
down, to savor every moment of the encounter, Obi-Wan
pushed the woman onto her back and began to kiss along her
jaw line, down her neck, the point of her shoulder. But
she would not have it. In a burst of strength, she instead
rolled him onto his back, straddled him, and in one smooth
stroke engulfed his throbbing cock in her warmth.

He gasped at the intensity of the sensation. It felt as
delicious as it usually did when he made love to a woman,
but heightened and sharpened by the energy that swirled
around them. It was as though the entire Force was being
channeled through their bodies, blessing their union.

She started to move, an insistent grinding, swirling,
thrusting motion. Obi-Wan put his hands on her hips and
helped her along as the pace increased. He wanted to close
his eyes and surrender to the feeling, but he couldn’t, he
couldn’t stop looking at her. She really was glowing now,
the energy around them seeming to coalesce, intensify, like
a golden blanket, though it gave off no heat. When she
came, he could tell not only from the physical contractions
within her body, but from the sparking, sparkling, pulsing
lights around her. They seemed to collapse into her,
through her, and then he was coming, too. The energy
imploded, spreading out from them in a wave, blinding him…

…and then he was sitting up in his bed in the Jedi Temple
on Coruscant with a gasp.

He sat trying to catch his breath for several minutes. It
was just a dream, then, he thought with a sigh. But what a
dream. I haven’t had one nearly that intense since I was a
teenager. I’m gonna have to change the sheets.

Having accomplished that chore as quietly as he could so as
not to wake Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wide awake. As
it wasn’t too much before dawn, he decided to start his day
with a good workout. Perhaps it would drive the vivid
images from his mind. He headed for the gym.

He assumed he’d have the place to himself, perhaps spar
with a droid or just practice his flips. Which was fine
with him, since he didn’t really feel like talking. But an
amazing number of people were up for such an early hour,
and he ended up helping some young padawans through light
saber drills. With a touch of pride, he noticed that the
youths weren’t much better than Anakin, own own Padawan,
though they were several years his senior.

The exercise did help drive the dream from his thoughts, so
that he felt calmer as he returned to his quarters, more
able to put on the face of a Master. It still came
awkwardly to him, like the loss of his padawan braid that
he sometimes reached for at his right shoulder. He felt
keenly the weight of expectations on him and daily steeled
himself to do his best. No one could ask of him any more
than that.

Anakin was just emerging from his sleeping chamber as Obi-
Wan entered their rooms, and as they exchanged “good
mornings” and quietly went about breakfast, the master
noticed the padawan seemed preoccupied.

“Is something bothering you, Anakin?” He always called the
boy by his whole name, never Ani; that just seemed too
familiar. Perhaps in time it would seem right, he hoped.

“No,” Anakin answered, looking up from his untouched meal.
When his Master continued to watch him expectantly, Anakin
revised his answer. “Yes. I had this dream.”

Obi-Wan’s heart thudded in his chest, but he took a deep
breath, forced his heart to beat normally again. “And what
was this dream about?”

“I was fighting this guy, this big, hairy, ugly guy. And
he was evil, I could tell.”

Obi-Wan sighed heavily in relief, turned it into a “Hmmm?”
when Anakin looked at him quizzically. “How could you tell
he was evil?”

“He just…I don’t know, he just radiated it. I could almost
see him glowing with Dark power.”

“Like a Sith?”

“No, not as bad as that. But still bad. But there was
good there, too, from something else, someone else…I don’t
know.” Anakin shrugged, picked at his breakfast for a
moment.

“And then what happened?” Obi-Wan asked gently, sensing
there was more. It was strange, playing this role that
should have been Qui-Gon’s. At times like this, he often
found himself imitating the lilt of his late Master’s
voice. He was even sitting in his Master’s chair, while
Anakin had taken Obi-Wan’s old seat. Force, but sometimes
he missed his Master so sharply it felt like a knife was
twisting in his heart.

“I ran away,” Anakin was saying as Obi-Wan’s thoughts
wandered, so that it took him a moment to register the
words.

“You ran away?”

“Yeah.” Anakin said it angrily, without looking up from
his bowl.

“And how did that make you feel?”

“How do you think?” Anakin blurted, slamming down his
spoon. “Like a coward, a spineless, gutless nobody. A
real Jedi would never run away like that.” Putting his
fists in his cheeks, elbows on the table, he glared at Obi-
Wan sullenly.

Help me, Qui-Gon, I’m screwing this up, Obi-Wan pleaded to
the void. Then he had an inspiration. “Even a Jedi must
know when to retreat.”

“Qui-Gon would never back away from a fight.” There it
was: Qui-Gon, not Obi-Wan; not his living Master, but his
dead mentor.

“Do you remember when Qui-Gon fought the Sith on Tatooine?”
Obi-Wan continued, trying to ignore Anakin’s outburst.
Anakin nodded, willing to listen to a story involving his
mentor. “He left that fight unfinished. Did that make him
a coward?”

“No.” The strength of the reply left no doubts as to
Anakin’s feeling on the matter.

“Why not?”

“Well, because, um…he surprised Master Qui-Gon, and he
fought better than he expected.” Anakin looked at Obi-Wan
as though expecting a “right” or “wrong,” but his Master
just waited, letting the boy work it through for himself.
“And he had other things he needed to do, people who
depended on him.”

Feeling he had covered the major points, Obi-Wan continued
to walk his padawan through the logic. “So there can
sometimes be good reason to retreat from a fight.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He could see Anakin working it through,
also see that he felt residual guilt nonetheless.

“This ‘hairy, ugly guy’ – he was bigger than you?
Stronger?”

“Yes.”

“He surprised you?”

Obi-Wan could almost see the scene replay in Anakin’s mind,
his eyes going far away for a moment. “Yes, he surprised
me.”

“And if you came upon this situation in real life, what do
you think you would do?”

“Call you for help,” Anakin replied, smiling for the first
time that morning.

Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat once more. He almost
reached out to tousle the boy’s hair, or to hug him. But
he wasn’t sure how Anakin might respond, so he settled for
a touch on the knee. “That’s what I’m here for. We’re a
team, right?” The boy nodded, seemingly back to his usual
carefree self. “Well then, since it is time for our usual
meditation session anyway, perhaps today we will focus on
accepting our feelings and learning from them. Then, if we
have time, I know some dream control methods we can
discuss.”

Anakin moved eagerly onto the rug where they usually
practiced their medita, fo, folding his legs into position
and closing his eyes. Obi-Wan followed more slowly,
thinking as he watched his pupil that he could use some
meditation himself. But he would be too busy monitoring
Anakin’s progress during this session; his time would have
to come later.

Anakin quickly sunk into the suggestible state thawaysways
began their sessions. He had proven unexpectedly good at
it for his age. But then, Obi-Wan supposed, he has been
through more than most children his age. He was wise
beyond his years. He did not envy the boy that hard-won
knowledge.

Remembering his duties, Obi-Wan talked Anakin through the
stages of the meditation until he felt the boy’s thoughts
clear and focus. While Anakin pondered his dream from a
dispassionate viewpoint, Obi-Wan found himself pondering
it, too. There is much fear in him, Obi-Wan thought. The
usual fears of a Jedi in training, but beyond that, the
fear of not living up to the expectations placed on him. A
fear with which I can easily sympathize. And not only that
but the fear of being an outsider, of not belonging, of
being torn from all that he knew and thrown into this new
world, where every other boy his age has been raised in the
crèche, in a group which has become their family. And into
this nucleus he must try to fit himself. The man, he is a
symbol of those fears. If he could conquer the man, it
might give him strength to conquer in real life. But as
long as he runs away, the fears will only grow. Yes, we
will work on directed dreaming, so that he may orchestrate
his own big, hairy, ugly straw man, and knock him down.

That settled, while he waited for Anakin to complete his
meditation, Obi-Wan found himself considering his own
dream. What had it meant? That I haven’t gotten laid in
too long? Obi-Wan thought with a rueful smile. That I
secretly long to rescue fair damsels in distress and ravish
them as reward? No, I hardly ravished her; she was quite
willing. And it was only a dream; can I blame myself for
actions I only imagine?

Obi-Wan was quite relieved when Anakin chose that moment to
rise out of his meditation, his thoughts suddenly louder.
Master walked Padawan through the directed dreaming
exercises, brushing up on his own technique as they worked,
just in case. When they were done, Obi-Wan dismissed
Anakin, suggesting he go to the South Spire garden, where
the pre-padawans often played.

“I might,” Anakin shrugged as he headed for a shower.

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan called after him. “Someday you will be
a great Jedi. Compared to that, making a few friends isn’t
so scary, hmmm?”

“I guess not.”

Definitely more work on the directed dreaming, Obi-Wan
thought as the sounds of running water issued from the
fresher.

As he still sat on the rug, Obi-Wan decided there was no
time like the present for his own needed meditation. So he
closed his eyes again and let his thoughts slip away one by
one. Soon there was nothing but the slow beating of his
heart and the ever-comforting presence of the Force around
him. He let himself float on the unseen currents, sinking
deeper, almost into sleep, bobbing along like a leaf in a
stream. Soon he would let just a piece of the dream float
along with him, to be objectively examined and understood.

---End Slave to Love, Part 1: First Sending---
---Continued in Part 2---