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“Hi,” you whispered, and the man in front of you inclined his ear to the sound—a slight, almost negligible movement, its recognition born out of hours and days, out of weeks and months, of one simple thing: love.
Somehow his hair glowed—golden, like the sun—even in the dim light of the neon signs hundreds of stories below. His back faced you, feet dangling off the roof of the Jedi Temple, and his aura filled the air with warmth and with his own distinct mixture of salty and sweet, like a candy you’d once tried on Alderaan.
Without a word, he extended his arm back toward you, palm open and waiting. You smiled and stepped forward. Slowly, deliberately, reverently you slid your palm over his, grin growing at his sigh. His fingers caressed your own as he grasped you and pulled you to his side.
Obi-Wan turned his head, eyes radiating light as they gazed into yours. “Hi,” he copied you, pulling you closer and nuzzling his forehead into your shoulder. You chuckled, bringing your opposite hand to rest gently upon his head before stroking his hair.
“That feels nice,” he mumbled, his deep voice sending vibrations through your skin.
“I thought it might.”
Obi-Wan shifted his head to plant a chaste kiss to your robes where they covered your arm.
“Hey, hey,” you warned, removing your hand from his hair. Immediately, the Jedi Master picked his head up with a frown. You donned a mocking one of your own. “How dare my robes get a kiss before I do?”
His mouth transformed into a smile—at once sweet and smug. “My apologies, my dear.” His gaze drifted down to your lips. “Am I allowed to correct my error?”
You shrugged, but your expression was alight with love and tenderness. “I don’t know, Obi-Wan. My lips are feeling very jilted.”
Obi-Wan untangled his hand from yours and placed it on your opposite hip, drawing you closer still. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you wrapped your arm around his shoulder. Breath and gaze oh-so-gentle, he asked, “Where is the forgiving woman I fell in love with?”
At his smile, you rolled your eyes. “She’s right here,” you replied, leaning in closer. “But her lips… That’s another story. They’re not as forgiving as she is.”
Blue eyes once more met your mouth, with a gaze so intense and affectionate that your heart burst as if he’d put his lips on yours. Obi-Wan smiled before meeting your eyes. “I see. So, they need careful attention, do they?”
“Hmm…” You looked away, bobbing your head as if weighing your options. Gazes collided again—a spark of fireworks between you. “They need more than your attention, my love.” The next words came out in a whisper. “They need to know just how sorry you are.” With a squeeze of his shoulder, you sent a grin his way, spine tingling with anticipation.
A sudden, guttural sound left his throat, contrasting with the loving look in his eye and sending lightning through your chest. “If that’s what it takes,” he whispered before crashing his lips against yours.
The moment was full of a simultaneous push and pull—his mouth pressing deeply into yours and his fingers giving your hip a light squeeze, the pressure sending your chest careening toward him, folding you lovingly into him as you grasped at his beard.
At your touch, his lips broke open against yours like a beloved book you’d read over and over again. One of his hands cupped your jaw as he acted out the story of his adoration, his fondness, his passion, his love for you. It was his firm yet gentle hold that told you he’d never let you go—not if you didn’t want him to. It was his sighs that illustrated how you made him feel: content, loved, and at once vintage and brand new—a fine Chandrillan wine.
And so, you told it back to him with your gentle sighs and with your submission: giving him control, allowing him to show you how much you meant to him—proof that you wanted him, too.
For he made you shape shift: With each passing moment, the two of you fell closer and closer into each other, his tongue—a burning candle wick—melting you down until you were hot wax. You molded into him, at once beginning to solidify again, your shape barely recognizable but more you than you’d ever felt while apart from him.
You crumbled under his touch, but somehow, somewhere, your lungs cried out for air, and as Obi-Wan’s lips left yours, you drew in a gasping breath—and then another, and another, your chest colliding with his in an uneven rhythm. Eyes still closed, your fingers continued their caress of his beard as his knuckle ran a gentle trail up and down your jawline.
A slight breeze ruffled your robes, and you opened your eyes—only for a laugh to tumble from your mouth at the sight of your lover’s smirk. He only watched you, his expression growing softer: a warm blanket. “Well,” he said, planting a kiss on your cheek, “have I earned your lips’ forgiveness?”
Grinning, you said, “Oh, you insufferable man,” before pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “Does that answer your question?”
His smile was brighter than all the neon signs combined. “Yes, it does, my dear.” Then, eyes never leaving yours, his hands removed themselves from your waist and face, took your hand from his jaw, and rested a kiss upon it. “Would you like to sit with me for a while?”
You answered by maneuvering yourself onto the ledge next to him, head falling onto his shoulder and arms wrapping around his waist. “Oh, my love,” he sighed as he mirrored your position. As he leaned his head against yours, you couldn’t help but think that you’d never felt closer to the one you love.