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Summary not available.

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by obaona

Author's Note: Huge thanks to Pallas-Athena for beta'ing. *huggles* She really, really improved this story.  That said, this is all Liana's fault. Write Obi-Wan, Siri, and a prostitute, she said ... :p Oh yeah! Bri dared me to work in the word 'peep', so I did. *blush*

Also, note that this deals with mature themes. Like, very. ;)  I can't stress that enough. Thanks to LadyPadme for looking this over for rating reasons. :)

 

Her hand slid up his thigh as he tore his hands through her hair. Her kiss was wild, passionate. Her shaky exhale – her breath warm against his skin – was the most erotic of her touches.

“So, did you sleep with her?”

“This is not the time to be discussing this,” Obi-Wan warned, walking away from Siri. His gaze roamed over the area, and he wished, faintly but desperately, that something would happen, just to break this. He focused on their immediate surroundings, the dirty and dark side alleys and heaps of trash that could easily become hiding places for watchers. Night had swallowed Ventus IV, but he imagined even in daylight, things were never truly bright here.

Siri quickened her step, walking by Obi-Wan’s side. Her black unisuit gleamed slightly in the dim light and the dark jacket she wore over her customary outfit hid her lightsaber well. Her blond hair was slicked back, bringing out the sharp bones of her face and making her accusatory gaze even more intense.

“Retreating to formality, I see,” she snapped, her fingers twitching as if to reach for the blaster slung low on her hip – though Obi-Wan knew she really wanted to reach for her lightsaber.

“I am putting the mission ahead of childish thoughts,” Obi-Wan retorted, meeting Siri’s blue eyes for a moment, and had the satisfaction of having her look away first.

Then … “Was she good?”

She took off his belt, running her hands along his stomach as she did so, making him shudder uncontrollably. She dragged her nails along his back, lifting his tunic, and he pulled it the rest of the way off. He kissed her again, his hand going up her side.

Obi-Wan ignored her fighting words. “She hasn’t seen the Senator, but she gave us some leads on who might have taken him.”

There was a sudden pause in Siri’s step, a sudden discordance, and Obi-Wan looked at her in query before he could stop himself.

“All right,” Siri said at last. There was an awkwardness to the way she carried herself, a tenseness like something inside had been fractured. “What did she say, exactly?”

“She’s heard the Senator has been involved in underground dealings, such as gambling and … less illicit games,” he told her dryly. Hardly a mission normally requiring two Knights, but they had been closest to the planetary system at the time.

“We knew that,” Siri said with an edge to her tone.

“She gave me an idea of who his ‘contact’ might be,” Obi-Wan continued. He glanced at Siri again. “Which is where we’re heading.”

Siri said nothing, only continued her own weary inspection of the street.

Obi-Wan also kept watching for any suspicious activity. It was hard to say how bad things were with the Senator, so he was taking all possible precautions. Besides that, this wasn’t a very safe area – the blasters he and Siri wore would probably discourage any casual thief, but there was no telling if there were gangs nearby.

“It doesn’t take too long to learn something like that,” Siri said at last.

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, only gritted his teeth.

“Considering how much you paid her, I doubt she’d mind a tumble,” Siri said nastily.

“You could have gone with me,” Obi-Wan said darkly, forcing himself not to clench his hands and really give away his anger. There is no passion …

“That would have suspicious, as I’m not the normal clientele,” Siri muttered.

Obi-Wan looked at her sharply and stared. “And I am?” he growled, wondering what exactly she was implying.

To his surprise, Siri backed down. “You – you look like you are,” she said conciliatorily, gesturing at his outfit. Black, like hers, sleek and functional. His coarse beard gave him the look of a hardened criminal, instead of a Jedi Knight. The blaster on the hip, the knives hidden in the boots, and the way he walked: straight, hard-edged, not graceful, but smooth.

There was just skin. The soft areas on her body, where years of hard work had not touched - the small of her back, the inside curve of her arm … He lightly kissed those spots. She pulled him up, on top of her, impatient. Touching his skin, running her hands up and down his back, smiling at him. Breathing hard.

“We’re almost there,” Obi-Wan said after a moment, changing the subject. He could almost imagine they weren’t Jedi, right now and right here. At least ... it was hidden. Pushing that way, he gestured at a darkened building nearby, the windows shot out. A man, filthy and twitchy – almost seeming not human, in the strange, drugged look of his walk – paced the entrance. “You want to go in first?”

Siri shook her head. “You got the information directly, I might miss some detail. You take the lead, I’ll watch out for us both.”

Obi-Wan nodded, already calming himself in preparation for his role. “Understood.”

He walked up to the guard, his movement smooth, without hesitation or deception, and unexpected by the man for that reason. The guard stumbled back, startled as he neared, but he managed to clumsily reach for his weapon.

Obi-Wan waited a second for him to get it in his hand, only to slap the guard’s face hard with the butt of his blaster. He snatched the weapon out of the guard’s hand; another blow, and the man was at his knees.

“Don’t get up,” Obi-Wan ordered roughly. Inside, though, he felt smooth and cool – not truly reacting, only doing his duty.

The frightened guard – probably no more than an addict with ‘bills’ to pay – nodded and cowered back.

Obi-Wan stepped past him into the building, making no attempt to disguise his presence but walking forward confidently. Siri followed, still watching for trouble despite Obi-Wan’s swagger. Obi-Wan, in his role, didn’t even bother – eyes up, above it all and yet intense in focus nevertheless. He briefly looked around at what he now realized was a bar of sorts, seeking a Rodian matching the description the prostitute had given him.

He found him quickly. The Rodian was, by the looks of things, quickly getting drunk. When he saw Obi-Wan heading for him, intent clear, he clumsily reached for his blaster.

Not wanting the contact to get off a shot and cause trouble – he imagined everyone here was carrying blasters or weapons of some type – he quickened his pace and before the Rodian could raise the weapon, Obi-Wan was on him, twisting his arm back and hitting a nerve in the Rodian’s hand, causing him to drop the blaster.

“You don’ want trouble from me, peep,” Obi-Wan said with a native’s accent, keeping his voice hard and even. He ignored the presence of Siri, who was probably staring out at the other denizens of the bar, daring them to challenge her. Probably smiling, too, he imagined, as if ready to seek violence.

The Rodian stared at Obi-Wan, then nodded. “You want somethin’?”

“I wan’ the location of a client,” Obi-Wan said.

The Rodian was already shaking his head. “I ain’t –”

Obi-Wan hadn’t let go of the Rodian’s wrist. He squeezed, enough to hurt a little bit, and then stopped, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t going to seriously hurt the contact, but that was something he couldn’t know – in fact, Obi-Wan was depending on that. If he had to, he could pay for the information, but this whole mission was already going badly without having to resort to giving the criminal class more money than they already possessed.

The Rodian wavered.

Her skin was so soft, her hair silky beneath his fingers. He stroked her eyebrow, ran a finger down the curve of her cheek, waiting for a long moment, not moving otherwise, and she gasped out his name.

“Tell me where Gelbac is,” Obi-Wan demanded, letting his eyes grow even colder – detached, like what he was about to do next wouldn’t bother him in the least. As if his compassion had finally been burned away.

“I dun – his creditors –” the Rodian babbled.

“Where,” Obi-Wan said flatly.

“Up fifth street on the Halo’s bar,” he said weakly.

He fell back when Obi-Wan let go of him.

The other bar clients had already gone back to their drinks, seeing a simple dispute that wasn’t likely to turn deadly. No friends of the Rodian’s, apparently. Obi-Wan glanced at Siri, and she gave an imperceptible nod. Obi-Wan turned his back on the Rodian and walked away, Siri following silently.

Her sigh was silent. So close to her, he could feel the movement of her body as she exhaled, but she made no sound. Her fingers brushed against his lips, her blue eyes showing she understood his own silence. He kissed her shoulder, slick with sweat.

“Where next?” Siri asked calmly, quietly here, in this place and on this street.

Obi-Wan sighed. “You mean, do we contact our Padawans for backup?”

“Ferus doesn’t need to see a place like this,” Siri murmured.

Anakin already has, Obi-Wan thought sadly, remembering the bitter, knowing look in the fourteen year old’s eyes. Do I look bitter like that now? “He’ll have to sooner or later,” was all he said.

“They want to be in on the action,” Siri said softly. “At their Masters’ side.”

“As we always wanted,” Obi-Wan reminded both himself and her and, for once, she didn’t take offense at the presumption, right or wrong.

“We can handle this,” Siri decided finally. “They can stay with the Senator’s family.” She paused. “Can you imagine how they would reacted to being in the brothel? Best they just stay out of this mission. They’re still young enough.”

Obi-Wan smiled tightly, gazing at Siri. “They probably wouldn’t have assumed I slept with the prostitute,” he said, sniping, yet unable to help himself.

“You’re mine,” she whispered into his ear. “You’ll always be mine.”

He met her eyes and didn’t deny it.


“Don’t, Obi-Wan.”

“If I did,” Obi-Wan confronted, losing his patience, the buildup as much on his part as hers, “would it matter? It would just be sex.”

Siri glared at him. “And when would it become attachment?”

“It wouldn’t with a prostitute,” Obi-Wan challenged. “Not with a prostitute, not with anyone.”

For some reason, her gaze softened. “It wasn’t that for you,” Siri said. And there it was, this shift in meaning. “Stop it, Obi-Wan. Trying to taint it after the fact won’t help any.” She turned away, eyes dark with the wisdom of pain.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut.

“Obi-Wan.” Her kiss …

“Obi-Wan, what have you done?”


“There is no passion,” Obi-Wan said blankly.

Siri’s blue eyes were unexpectedly gentle.

“You must discontinue the relationship you have with her, Obi-Wan. I don’t care if it was one night. I know sexual relationships aren’t forbidden per se, but this isn’t just a sexual relationship.” His voice was heavy, an order laid down, crushing. “End the relationship, or you will be cast out of the Order.”

“So what now? Are you going to compare me to – a lady of the night?” Her words were sharp and unyielding.

“No,” Obi-Wan said icily, shortly, “perhaps you’re the one drawing the comparison.” He knew that would sting.

A moment of still anger. “Cruel, Obi-Wan, even for you,” she said in a clipped tone.

When had it become about them? Obi-Wan wondered. Maybe it always was. “Then don’t ask who I sleep with.” Can we at least have the bliss of blindness? This at least we should not challenge.

Siri nodded, walking faster, apparently eager to rescue the Senator from his own illicit crimes.

“Especially,” Obi-Wan added brusquely, “when you know perfectly well the answer is no one at all.”

She paused, lowering her head, her shoulders trembling – just for a moment, and he treasured that moment – and then nodded, not speaking.

“Obi-Wan, I’m sorry. We never should have –”

“I know,” he said quietly. “The relationship will end,” he said, just blunt. As if he could wield his pain like a sword, striking his feelings down, and it’d be done. Done.

“Yes,” Siri said simply, eyes dull. “But will that be enough?”

He looked away, knowing the answer to that as well as she.

[finis]

 

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