Title: Storms

Author: Pari106

Fandom: Star Wars: The Phantom Menace

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Padme (Amidala)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Blame George Lucas.

Archive: Sure. Let me know first.

Status: Complete

Rating: NC-17

Code: Het.

Feedback: Yes, please.

series: N/A

Summary: While on a mission to an icy planet, Padme and her protector and friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, get trapped in a storm. The classic story of two people’s decision to share body heat…leading to them sharing a whole lot more.

Author’s Note: I decided to try another fandom. :) Kathy, this is probably your fault ;) Please be honest, but gentle with your reviews. I hope you like this.

Storms
by pari106

Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had faced perilous situations. He’d faced impossible odds…at the side of his late master, in command of his own troops, or on his own. He’d battled Sith, and other manifestations of the dark side…both external and internal.

But he’d never faced a more dangerous adversary than he did now.

For now, not only was he up against the 125 pounds of female lying in his arms… But he was up against himself, as well. And something far more destructive than any battle droid or bounty hunter…

He was up against desire. His own.

His desire for probably the one and only woman in the universe he absolutely could *not* desire: Senator Padme Nabierre. Queen Amidala, of Naboo. The fiancée of Anakin Skywalker…Obi-Wan’s padawan. And friend.

He absolutely could not desire her…and yet he did. Lying there…her long, silken tresses fanned out across his arm; her head on his shoulder. He could feel her breath against the skin of his chest as she slept, their bodies lying face to face with one another and the top of her head coming up to just under his bearded chin. His strong arms surrounded her small, soft frame, holding her close.

Neither had on a stitch of clothing.

And they had only come to this because of the storm raging outside the cavern where they’d taken shelter.

He’d only brought this upon himself to ensure their survival. By the time they’d reached the shelter, Padme had passed out, weak from the cold. They had both been shaking and sore, and their lips had turned blue. He’d barricaded them in this cavern so that they would not freeze to death. He’d started a fire, and then he’d used whatever materials he had been able to find and carry, from their crash-landed ship, to make a pallet where he could lay Padme’s unconscious form.

Then he’d stripped.

He’d known that the fire would not be enough… The blankets…the coats, wet from the snow and rain that had pelted them outside…would not be enough. He’d had to get Padme warm. Quickly. And the only way to do that was to use body heat. *His* body heat.

So he’d stripped. Then he’d removed her clothing as well. Piece…by piece. Until every inch of her beautiful flesh was bared before him. And the whole time he’d told himself that he should really look away…do what had to be done and be done with it. But even as he’d said this, he’d been unable to avert his gaze. Unable to turn from the sight of her beauty, her perfection. Her smooth, ivory skin…her ample breasts… That tapered waist and full hips…

Then he’d crawled underneath the blankets with her, on top of the pallet, and had taken her in his arms.

There they’d remained ever since.

And they’d only come to this because of the storm outside. But now…an entirely different type of storm was beginning to rage. Inside of Obi-Wan.

It boiled his blood and clouded his senses… Heated his skin, so that all he wanted was escape from the suddenly oppressive heat of the blankets covering them. And yet, at the same time, he wished that this heat…this embrace… This moment of stolen pleasure and pain, holding the woman he’d always loved…but would never have… He wished it would never end.

And he didn’t dare leave Padme’s side now. She hadn’t yet awakened, and he couldn’t risk letting her body temperature drop yet again. He had to continue to be strong…if this madness that consumed him could be called strength… He had to continue to keep her warm; keep her safe. To ward off pneumonia. Until she’d woken up, at least.

Until she woke up…

An event he both welcomed and dreaded.

He welcomed it…because then the madness would be over. The exquisite torture of holding her…like this…would end. The temptation would end.

But he dreaded it, as well. Simply because it would end. And because he could explain, easily enough, how they’d come to be in this state…naked and entwined. But what would be more difficult…would be explaining how *he* had come to be in the state he currently occupied. Nearly quaking with desire…and more aroused than he could remember being in his entire life.

Not even meditation could curb that arousal. Not even a plea…torn from the depths of his soul, directed at whatever good and sacred there existed in the Force…for deliverance could made his need subside. His body was as tense as a tightly coiled spring. His erection had hardened to a painful length. And Padme had only to wake to realize this. And to be scandalized by the realization.

Obi-Wan’s bright, sky-blue eyes…darkened nearly to navy with desire…fluttered closed, and he took long, ragged breaths. Attempting yet again to calm his treacherous body, while cursing his treacherous spirit.

How he could he have done this?

How could he have fallen in love with his padawan’s…with his friend’s…beloved? How could he?

How could he covet her now? Want her…hold her this way…keeping a layer of covers between his hands and her skin, but wanting that layer to be removed so badly that, really…was there any difference between the wanting and the doing? Was it any less a sin to lie there, imagining the things that he was imagining, than to actually act on his imagination? Was it any less a betrayal on his part…a betrayal of Anakin’s friendship, of his trust and obedience…to lie here with his soon-to-be-wife, wanting his wife, while Anakin was, no doubt, beside himself with concern over their disappearance?

How could he commit such a sin? In thought, if not in deed? How could he make such a damned foolish mistake as to fall for Padme Nabierre? No good could come from it. And any bad that came…would be of the damnable sort. He knew it. He knew he had betrayed not only Anakin, but Padme and himself, as well, as well as every principle he had ever held valuable, by attaching himself emotionally to the same woman as his padawan learner. His charge…his responsibility.

Yet, how could he have kept himself from doing just that?

How could he have possibly resisted Padme Amidala Nabierre?

He’d been in love with her, he thought, from the start. But he had denied that love, scorned it as inconsequential, at the time Padme had been free. She’d been so young… And he’d been preoccupied with his duties as Qui-Gon’s padawan…intent on gaining his knighthood. And then, intent on training his own padawan. And convinced that no queen, no one so beautiful and desirable as Padme…so brave and bright… Would want to expend their emotions on someone like him anyhow. Someone…a Jedi…who had been trained and instructed to reject intense emotion as a gateway to the dark side.

By the time he’d realized that none of that mattered… That he was intensely in love with her, anyhow… It had been too late. If she had ever been able to love him he would never know…because his padawan was in love with her, as well. Anakin was in love with her. And Obi-Wan had vowed to protect and guide the young Jedi…not to vie with him for a woman’s affections. Especially not when the woman, Padme, seemed to reciprocate his feelings.

He had thought this would not be a problem. His training, after all, would aid him. His belief in the Force would guide him and give him peace. His feelings for Padme could be avoided.

Or so he’d thought.

He’d worked so hard at avoiding them. He’d continued to guide and protect Anakin, to train him and befriend him… He’d befriended Padme… And he’d done so well at pretending that that was all there was for him, that even he’d begun to believe his charade.

Now, however, he knew it had only been that…a charade. He’d never stopped loving Padme. Or wanting her. He’d never been truly content with mere friendship between the two of them. He had bled inside every time he’d seen her in Anakin’s embrace. And he knew he would suffer his own private sort of hell the day they would be married.

Just as he was suffering a sort of hell now… Holding Padme, loving her…loving Anakin and wishing he were not betraying him this way…and hating himself.

Then Padme shivered. And at that moment all thoughts of anything else fled.

It was an odd combination of memory and dream.

Not that Padme realized this as she dreamt. But she did notice something not quite right about the events unfolding around her. She recognized the time and place. How could she not? It was a very memorable event in her life…the visit she’d made to Tatooine with Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan, posing as one of her own handmaidens. But she didn’t remember that trip as having been so cold… So terribly, terribly cold. Her hands shook and her teeth chattered from it, even as she gazed up into the rays of Tatooine’s twin stars…down at the sun-scorched sand of one of its many deserts.

She was returning from Mos Espa, she realized. The Gungan, Jar-Jar Binks, was at her side; her royal yacht stood before her. Captain Pananka was coming down the ramp to meet her. And so was…

"Obi-Wan…"

The name left her lips on a breath, both in her dreams and, though she didn’t realize it, in her sleep.

The Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, had been sent by Chancellor Vellorum, along with Qui-Gon Jinn, to oversee negotiations with the Trade Federation. He’d been planet-side on Naboo to help her and her entourage escape when those negotiations went awry. And he had stayed behind to watch over the yacht and its passengers while she and Qui-Gon had gone into Mos Espa searching for
replacement parts for the grounded ship.

Padme had caught a glimpse of him during these times…but a glimpse was all. And she’d been too preoccupied with her planet, her people, and their attackers, to pay much attention to even that. But Jedi Kenobi had her attention now.

She couldn’t understand why, having seen him before, seeing him now would have such an effect on her. But she couldn’t look away from him. Captain Pananka was undoubtedly still at her side, but he had faded into the background of her senses. The only person of whom she was aware as
Obi-Wan as he walked towards her, his robes flowing around him; leather boots making tracks through the sand. He was Qui-Gon’s padawan, and the braid that denoted this hung over one shoulder. The rest of his hair, golden brown in color, had been cut short.

He had eyes bluer than any she’d ever seen in her life. She wasn’t sure when she’d realized this, only that she had. And his face, at times boyish, at times rugged, always startlingly attractive, wore an amused expression, the corners of his lips turned up in that knowing smile she’d come to know so well. In Padme’s dream, all sound and action and thought ceased until Obi-Wan was at her side, smiling down at her.

And then, somehow, the sand billowing up towards her had suddenly transformed into snow.

Her shivering increased and her limbs became numb… And Obi-Wan wasn’t smiling any longer. His gaze seemed older somehow, and it was full of concern rather than amusement.

"Padme?" He called her name, she knew he did…she heard him, though she did not see his lips move. And she had to blink through the snow swirling around them, making it difficult to make out the features of his beautiful face.

On impulse, she reached out to touch that face. To trace his lips, nearly hidden beneath his beard.

His beard. When had he grown a beard?

"Padme…can you hear me?"

He spoke again, and Padme tried to respond. Her lips moved, but no sound accompanied the movement.

She was so cold…it was so awfully cold. She’d never known Tatooine could be so cold.

But Obi-Wan’s skin, beneath her fingertips, was warm. And she wanted to revel in that warmth. Suddenly, she knew she wanted to revel in *him*. In being here, near him. She dropped her hand to her side, but did not draw away from him. Rather, she drew closer, pressing her body as closely to his as she could. She found it odd that she did not have to move very far to do this. Had she really been standing that close to him? Well…lying that close to him. What were they doing here, lying side by side in the sand on Tatooine?

Only it was snow, not sand, beneath them, wasn’t it? And blankets. From somewhere blankets had appeared. And this didn’t look like Tatooine any longer.

But that was definitely Obi-Wan next to her. And in her half-asleep, half-awake, state, that was all that Padme cared about. She was here with Obi-Wan; lying next to Obi-Wan.

She pressed her cheek against his chest, nuzzling him and planting a light kiss on the skin there. When had his robes disappeared?

Something that sounded like a groan left Obi-Wan’s lips. "Padme!" he called to her again, this time in a tone of voice she’d never heard him use before. It was slightly breathless…slightly shocked. And very aroused. Padme decided she liked this tone of voice very much.

So she kissed him again.

This time she moved so that her lips landed on his Adam’s apple. And she felt his flesh goosebump beneath her palms where her fingers were splayed against his chest. She knew
the effect her kiss, her touch…the feel of her breath on his skin…was having by the sudden way his breathing shallowed.

"Padme, what are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked. His words were something somewhere between an exclamation and a plea. She then felt his grip on her forearms. And if touching his skin brought warmth, than having Obi-Wan touch her own brought fire to Padme’s senses. She moaned.

"Oh, Obi-Wan…"

Her eyes had closed and, blindly now, her lips traveled his throat, up his chin…his beard tickling her nose as she searched for his mouth.

"Padme, by the Force, please…"

Padme heard a dozen emotions resounding in Obi-Wan’s tone of voice, and she marveled that someone trained as a Jedi…trained to suppress and control emotion…could express so many
emotions in so few words. She marveled that someone…anyone…could inspire so much emotion in herself.

She also heard the question in his voice. The question that was the same as the one he’d asked moments before. What was she doing?

She really didn’t know.

Not quite conscious, but now aware that she must be dreaming, Padme knew she was no longer on Tatooine. She couldn’t quite remember where they were, or how they’d gotten there. But she knew time had passed since that day she’d left Mos Espa, so long ago. She knew time had brought changes for both herself and Obi-Wan; brought changes to their lives. Obi-Wan was no longer a padawan, but a Jedi Knight; his master, Qui-Gon, having died almost ten years ago. Padme was now a Senator in the Republic, and engaged to be married to Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan’s own padawan. Anakin…the boy they’d rescued from Tatooine that day she kept returning to in her dreams. The man who’d befriended and then become betrothed to her.

Padme knew it was inappropriate to be dreaming about doing these sorts of things with her fiancée’s own master; with Obi-Wan. It was insane…dreaming about lying here with him like
this, holding him. Kissing him. And wanting to do much more. So she didn’t really know what she was doing. She just knew that, dream or not, she’d never felt anything so right. She’d never felt the touch of a man so electrically. Not even with Anakin, whom she loved. But if she were to be honest with herself…the sort of honest that one could only be at times like these, the times of dreams…the love she felt for Anakin was not the sort that manifested itself in heated looks and passionate embraces. It was the love felt for a friend; the best she’d ever known. It was the love of a kindred spirit.

The love Padme felt for Anakin was all she’d ever hoped for. Until times like these. Until dreams like this one came to haunt her at night. Dreams like this were what made Padme think that maybe there was something more to hope for.

To foolishly hope for, of course. The dreams didn’t really make her think that she would ever actually have that "something more" with anyone. Especially not Jedi Kenobi, her fiancée’s master and friend. Her friend. Who had never showed her anything more than friendly affection. When she’d first started dreaming about him she’d been shocked at her own scandalousness; even if the scandal only existed in her own imagination. But then she’d decided what harm is there in a little dream? It wasn’t as if she could stop them, even if she’d whole-heartedly wanted to. She knew because she’d tried. And as long as the dreams never became reality, as she was sure they could not, what effect would they have on reality? What harm could they do her or Anakin or Obi-Wan? What would she be if she would deny herself the chance at loving someone as she truly needed to love…even if that chance, again, existed only in her head?

She wouldn’t be much of a woman, Padme concluded to herself.

So she did not shy away from the events unfolding in this oddly realistic dream. Rather, she threw herself into the moment with fervor.

Her hands began to roam.

Down the smooth skin of Obi-Wan’s chest, over the light sprinkling of chest hair to be found there. Down, further, over the hard muscles of his perfect abs. Over, to his hips…

Obi-Wan grabbed her wrist firmly, his breath catching sharply in his throat.

"Padme, no!"

"Obi-Wan, please…"

This was an unusual twist on the usual fantasy. Usually…it was Obi-Wan initiating the lovemaking that haunted Padme’s nights. Usually, it was he seducing her with those brilliant
blue eyes and that sly smile; those capable hands. Now…she could practically feel resistance radiating from him, however reluctant that resistance might be. She could feel how tightly coiled his muscles were with tension as she ran her hands over them. She looked up at his face, and saw that his eyes were closed and his expression was one of intense concentration. As if he were trying to will himself the strength to push her away.

"Please…" she repeated; undaunted by any of this.

Her hand traveled down further…Obi-Wan’s grip on her wrist faltering, and then, finally, releasing her. Her fingertips explored one strong thigh… the light sprinkling of body hair found here as well. Then she thought of another area of his anatomy where this would be true.

In one quick, bold movement Padme found Obi-Wan’s erection and grasped him firmly… stroking him fully, from one end of his shaft to the other, and moaning in pleasure at the feel of him, warm and smooth in her hand.

Obi-Wan moaned as well. At least…it sounded like a moan. Or perhaps a cry. The primitive cry of a man who can resist temptation no longer. Padme’s small, soft hand caressing him was the last torture he could endure. Nothing, not even the Force, could overwhelm the power Padme’s touch had over Obi-Wan.

So he leaned into it. Leaned into her. Wrapped his arms around Padme once more…this time pulling her into an embrace so desperate he crushed their bodies together. And Padme could feel his erection now against her belly…so close, yet nowhere near close enough to that place she needed to feel him.

"Padme…"

Obi-Wan covered her mouth with his own, moaning yet again when her lips parted immediately for him, receiving his tongue and meeting it with her own. He touched her. Ran one hand over her body the way she had done him…starting with her shoulder and travelling down her arm, down her side, and over the swell of one hip. Then he brought his hand across her stomach, feeling the
muscles there quiver beneath his touch…hearing her breath catch and a tiny purr begin deep in her throat.

Next Obi-Wan’s touch traveled upward, in a boldness reminiscent of that which Padme had displayed moments before. He grasped one of Padme’s full breasts, firmly, in his hand…enjoying the cry that left her lips at this, before kneading the flesh he now held; running his fingertips over and around the sensitized nipple at its center. Teasing the erect nub until Padme was writhing in his arms.

"Obi-Wan!"

"Padme, love…"

Simultaneously, he slipped his hand back down Padme’s hip and across, grabbing her rear and holding her still…while sliding down the pallet next to her, just slightly. Just enough so that now, when he pressed against her, Padme could feel Obi-Wan’s sex next to her own.

That, as luck would have it, was the moment Padme realized she was not dreaming after all.

END