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Make A Grown Man Cry (R) Obi-Wan Kenobi

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Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Author's note: he!au outtake!fic. For estora , who requested sexual tension and/or emotional affair Rynobi. I'm not sure how well this fits either consideration, but it's what I came up with, damn it. Title from the Rolling Stones song "Start Me Up."

 

~~~~Make a Grown Man Cry~~~~~ 



“I had sex with Ferus Olin last night.”

Obi-Wan sits up so fast he chokes on the herbal tea in his mouth, spills half of what was in his cup, and sprays Ryn with both. She thumps him on the back until his struggle for air subsides into rhythmic wheezing and then settles back into her place on the couch and hands him a napkin.

She doesn’t say anything, but Obi-Wan has known her long enough to read the amusement in her eyes.

“Does Anakin know?” he gasps, when he can speak again.

“Not yet.” She lifts her feet and stretches her long legs out across his caf table. Obi-Wan starts to object and then realizes he doesn’t really mind. She rolls her head against the back of the couch to look at him. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

Obi-Wan feels the frown coming and pushes it away. “Why?”

“Well, because I don’t know how he’ll -”

“No, I mean: why did you sleep with Ferus?”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Ryn says. “I fucked his brains out.”

Obi-Wan chokes again in spite of himself, and this time Ryn is definitely laughing at him, even though she keeps a straight face. He can feel it in her Force signature.

“Well,” he says when he can, “I guess the question in my mind is: why did you fuck him?”

Actually, the question is his mind is a little more specific: why not me? but of course he can’t ask Ryn that one.

“We have a saying on Loreth,” Ryn says with grim satisfaction. “Don’t get mad: get even.” She shrugs. “So it started like that and then I realized how much I’d missed him and then we spent a few hours making up for lost time.”

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan considers that Ryn may be the first person he has ever known who is truly unfathomable. There is no figuring her out.

It’s probably why he never gets tired of her.

 

“I’m not sure I follow you,” he says now. “Are you saying you - ah - used Jedi Olin for sex?”

“Well, I asked him first,” Ryn says matter-of-factly. “I wanted to be fair about it.”

Of course you did. Obi-Wan blinks several times and glances at his cup, but there’s not enough tea in the galaxy. He starts to ask her whether Ferus was willing, then realizes that’s not even a question. Ferus had fallen as hard for Ryn, in his own way, as she ever did for Anakin. He was a committed enough Jedi to be discreet about it, but how many times had Obi-Wan caught sight of him, standing in the background of meetings and just watching her?

And why not? He asks himself, repressing a sigh. She’s sharp and gorgeous and close to his age. Why shouldn’t he find her attractive?

Well, because she was Anakin’s girl. And of course Ferus would have to be the one to question that.

“Well, ah -” He laughs, a little self-consciously, and he’s not even sure why. “That’s probably good. I mean, it releases me from any obligation to - haha! - have sweaty passionate - ha! - revenge sex with you.”

This time it’s Ryn’s turn to choke. She covers it a little better than Obi-Wan did, swallows hard and demands hoarsely, “What?”

Obi-Wan is a Jedi. He is not going to cringe at his own awkwardness like a hapless teenager. He is not.

Okay, maybe he is.

Probably Ferus never cringes. And he’s fit and good-looking and young.

In the end he shrugs. “Sorry. Awkward joke.”

“Very.” Ryn looks askance at him. “I’m not your type, anyway. You always go for those elegant socialites. Polished thirty-somethings with ambition.”

Obi-Wan can’t quite resist taking another look at her legs. “Ryn, you’re every man’s type.”

“That’s very heteronormative of you.”

That’s Ryn’s sense of humor at work; Lorethans, as far as he can tell, are universally bi-sexual. Homosexuality as a concept has baffled Ryn ever since she moved to the Core.

But in this particular case ... “I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan says. “Ferus Olin is sweet.” Inexplicable Coruscanti slang for a man who prefers to sleep with other men.

Ryn just grins slyly and knocks back the rest of her tea. “He wasn’t last night.”

Oh. He had forgotten this side of Ryn, maybe because when she lived in the Temple he was, unavoidably, an authority figure, and Ryn regards all authority figures with some caution. Not hostility, exactly, just wariness. She treats them like the weather: sometimes benevolent, sometimes destructive, always beyond her control. But this is the Ryn who took the Outer Rim negotiations by storm five years ago and charmed a bunch of thugs into privateering on behalf of the Republic without ever saying a word during the formal meetings: sharp, attentive, unabashedly delighted with her own sensuality and everyone else’s, too.

Sexy, and she just owns it, and it is possibly the hottest thing Obi-Wan has ever seen.

He shifts a little on the couch. “Well, I’m glad you had a nice time.” A thought occurs to him. “Er. I mean. Did you?”

“Have a nice time?” Ryn grins at him. “Are you asking me to kiss and tell, Master Kenobi?”

It’s unbelievable, how hard he’s blushing. He should have gotten over this as a teenager. “Of course not,” he stammers. “I just ...”

“Relax,” Ryn tells him, her eyes flashing with amusement. “I don’t care, and I don’t think Ferus will either. But this conversation is going to need something stronger.” She waggles her cup at him. “I suggest we get out of the Temple for a while.”