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Cultural Sensitivity

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1. Dathomir (pegging)

“They want us to do what?” At first, Obi-Wan was sure Padmé was joking. Certainly, he was being eyed like a particularly tasty treat by the Force sensitive women who called themselves witches surrounding him, and yes, Padmé did look very serious.

But claiming him, publicly? With some kind of phallus? That went beyond believable and straight to bizarre.

Padmé clutched at his hand, trying not to frown. “It’s their tradition, the clan mother tells me. A witch kidnaps the man she wants for her husband, and the public claiming is kind of the wedding ceremony.”

Obi-Wan noted a bit of color in her cheeks, felt the conflicted emotions coursing through her. Regret, worry, fear, and under that, hope. And desire. “I was told stories in the Senate, but I didn’t think they were real.”

He believed her, and, well. Obi-Wan tried to be honest with himself most of the time. He’d thought about sex and Padmé and all manner of things unbecoming of a Jedi.

And now he wasn’t a Jedi anymore. “I just don’t understand how you claiming me with a phallus is supposed to prove your female strength,” he said, and Padmé shrugged, squeezing his fingers tighter.

“It's what they believe and that's the important thing. If we want allies, we should be respectful of local customs.”

Obi-Wan smothered a truly inappropriate laugh. His entire life had been turned on its head nearly a year ago, and now he was running from planet to planet with a friend who’d faked her death but still couldn’t leave politics alone.

“By all means, let’s be culturally sensitive.”

She smiled up at him, the worry and fear draining away from her, leaving the desire all the stronger in their wake.

“The clan mother said her husband would help you get ready,” and Obi-Wan looked up to see a copper eyed man watching them. He was dressed in tight leather pants, with cuffs and collar to match, and there were scratches on his chest and shoulders. Clearly, he had a passionate relationship with his wife.

“You mean, they want us to do this now?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help the shock in his voice. Perhaps sooner was better. He wouldn’t have too much time to think. The man gestured him over, and Padmé released his hand.

“As soon as you’re ready,” she said, and gave him a hopeful smile. He’d faced worse, Obi-Wan thought, and followed the man into the cave. Having sex with Padmé, even if not exactly the way he normally pictured it, was hardly going to be the most difficult thing he’d faced. Recently.

“Strip,” the man commanded. Obi-Wan obeyed, feeling unnerved by the way the man’s copper eyes took in every inch of skin as it was revealed. “Hm. You are strong, good. Your woman is small, but they will give her a large phallus to make up for it. You have done this before?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “Never.”

The man’s face changed, sympathetic instead of calculating. “You are newly kidnapped. My apologies. You seem so easy with her, I thought you had been mated a long time.” He touched his chest. “I am Talus.”

“Ben,” Obi-Wan replied. Talus moved to a shelf at the back of the cave, and lifted a particular bottle there, wrapped with vines. There were other, plain bottles, and Talus handled the one he’d chosen with care.

“I can give you passionflower oil,” Talus said, his tone softer now, like Obi-Wan was a skittish animal that needed taming. “It will make the claiming easier, make you want it.”

“Make me want it?” Obi-Wan echoed, then realized exactly what Talus was offering. “Oh. No, thank you. I want it.” Talus directed a skeptical look at Obi-Wan’s soft cock, and Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat. He fought the urge to cover himself with his hands.

“Regular oil will be fine,” he said firmly.

Talus shrugged and returned the vine draped bottle. “You are the one who must bear it,” he said, and brought back one of the plain bottles instead. “I will help prepare you. Your woman has small fingers, they will not stretch you as well.” He gestured to a padded bench, and Obi-Wan, blushing harder now, bent over it. There was something very strange about this man he’d just met offering to ‘prepare’ him, but Talus was so matter of fact about the whole affair. Obi-Wan felt no malice from the man, and he tried to relax against the cushions. He had a basic idea of what would happen now, and tensing would be the worst possible response.

That seemed to be Talus’s way of thinking, because the first touch Obi-Wan felt was on his lower back, digging into the muscles there. Talus massaged his way up Obi-Wan’s spine, then down, all the way over his ass. It felt delightful, and Obi-Wan relaxed for real.

The first brush of fingers against his anus had him tensing again, but Talus merely treated it as one more part to massage, and Obi-Wan breathed the stress away. By the time Talus had two well oiled fingers stretching the rim of his anus, Obi-Wan was no longer soft, and was beginning to look forward to Padmé and her borrowed phallus. Talus spread his fingers and let more oil trickle into Obi-Wan.

“It will not be painful, Ben,” Talus said. “I have made you very ready, and she will have much oil on the altar. If she cares for you, she will be gentle to start.” Talus withdrew his fingers, and Obi-Wan felt empty. “You may not wish for her to stay gentle.” There was a smile in Talus’s voice.

Awkward now because of his hard cock, Obi-Wan got to his feet, feeling oil snake down his thighs. Talus tied leather cuffs and a collar onto him, and led him out of the cave.

There was an altar in the open space before the cave mouth, mounded with pillows and soft furs. Padmé stood next to it, in a gauzy skirt like most of the witches wore, leather straps holding a very large phallus between her legs. Her eyes traced over Obi-Wan’s body as he approached her, lingering on his cock. She blushed when she met his eyes, but she smiled just the same.

“How do they expect us to do this?” he asked quietly, when they were close. Padmé touched his cheek, guiding his face down to hers, and he went willingly. Her lips were soft and sweet against his, and Obi-Wan sighed into the kiss.

Padmé kept her hand on his cheek when they parted. “You’ll have to be on your back,” she said. “I guess it’s not the ideal position for your first time, but it makes for a better show.”

“I’ll survive,” he said, and lay down on the pillows, drawing his knees up out of her way. Padmé knelt and leaned over him, her phallus brushing Obi-Wan’s cock as she kissed him again. He shivered as he kissed her back, tongue tangling with hers. He was breathing hard when she straightened up and reached for the oil, applying it generously to her phallus.

Padmé coated her fingers and pressed one into him, and Talus had been right, her fingers were very small. Obi-Wan huffed out a breath as she pressed on the nub of his prostate.

“I am very prepared,” he said, still soft so only she could hear, and Padmé grinned wickedly as she added another finger, pressing down again.

“You look good like this, Ben,” she said. Obi-Wan tried not to writhe, then realized that would probably make for a better show and let his hips rise to meet her next push. “Are you sure you’re ready?” Padmé sounded a little hesitant, perhaps worrying about his lack of experience.

Obi-Wan heard the witches begin chanting around them, but he didn’t look away from Padmé’s eyes. “I trust you,” he said, and held her gaze as she slid the phallus smoothly into him.

Stars, he felt full. There was a twinge of pain that he breathed through, and he managed a smile up at Padmé. “Is that all?” he teased. Her eyes narrowed and she shifted, brushing the phallus against his prostate. That felt amazing, and he shifted so she would do it again.

“Hold still,” Padmé hissed at him, settling her tiny hands on his bent legs and pulling out the phallus. Obi-Wan let a small protesting sound escape him, and the chanting around them grew louder and more intense. Padmé plunged back in, and they both gasped.

Obi-Wan let his head tip back and focused on breathing as Padmé found a rhythm. “Stars, that’s amazing,” he muttered, wanting to encourage her but always so aware of their audience.

Padmé huffed out a small laugh. Her skin was beginning to glisten with perspiration, and Obi-Wan couldn’t look away from her eyes. “You’re adorable,” she whispered, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, then gasped as she thrust in particularly hard. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, and he was. The phallus moved smoothly in and out of him, and Obi-Wan felt the tension build. “How does this end?”

She ran a hand down his leg to his cock, and Obi-Wan let out an embarrassingly loud moan. “I have to make you…” Padmé hesitated, clearly searching for a word he wouldn’t find offensive. It was like she forgot sometimes he’d spent years on the front line of a war, with soldiers who talked and swore like any other kind.

“Climax?” he offered, giving her a cheeky grin. She rewarded (or punished) him with another firm stroke of his cock, and Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered closed. Oh, this was not going to take long. “What about you?”

“It’s not as important if I… finish,” Padmé said, panting as she kept thrusting. “The ceremony ends when you climax.”

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed and focused on moving with Padmé, feeling his orgasm creep ever closer. “Nearly there…”

Padmé stroked his cock again and fucked into him harder. Obi-Wan let the sounds he was making drown out the chanting and arched his back as he climaxed, spilling seed over his chest and Padmé’s skirt. Padmé leaned down to kiss him again, rough but still sweet, and their audience broke into cheers.

Carefully, Padmé pulled the phallus out of Obi-Wan, and stood, her knees a little shaky. Several of the witches gathered her onto their shoulders and carried her around, chanting again. Obi-Wan focused on slowing his breathing.

Talus offered him a hand up with a grin. “Your woman did very well. Come, Ben, let’s get you cleaned up.” Gratefully, Obi-Wan followed him back into the cave and washed off his chest and groin, wincing at the unfamiliar stretch in his ass and thighs. Talus offered him a salve without comment, and Obi-Wan applied it to his aches with a nod of relief.

“It gets easier,” Talus said. “And of course, she will allow you to penetrate her as well, at times. You will have lovely children.”

Obi-Wan bit his tongue and looked down. Talus seemed to take his silence as bashfulness. “But now, the feast!” He offered Obi-Wan leather trousers to match his collar and cuffs, and lead him back out to a transformed clearing.

Padmé had also been cleaned up, and she greeted Obi-Wan with a kiss as he settled down next to her. “We have allies,” she told him softly, and Obi-Wan smiled at her. It paid to be culturally sensitive.


2. Hapes (cunnilingus)

The people of Hapes, both men and women were beautiful in a way that struck Obi-Wan as unreal. They were too beautiful, bred for it over a thousand generations.

Padmé held her own among the women of the Queen Mother’s court, and Obi-Wan kept his mouth shut and let her do the talking. It was another society where women took charge, and he was fine with that.

The issue arose during a formal dinner after a long day of negotiations. Obi-Wan sat at Padmé’s right, eating after she tasted a dish as he saw the other consorts doing. He was being as quiet and unobtrusive as possible, but he noticed he was still garnering a lot of attention.

“Your servant,” the Queen Mother said quietly to Padmé during a lull in the wider conversation. Padmé took the bite she had on her fork and set it down carefully. She chewed with deliberation, and then looked at the Queen Mother.

“Ben is not my servant, Queen Mother.”

The Queen Mother inclined her head. “My apologies. Your companion, then. He’s very handsome.”

Padmé rested her hand on Obi-Wan’s free one. Obi-Wan set down his fork and shifted so their fingers entwined. “Ben is my husband,” she said, and Obi-Wan felt a thrill go through him. “And yes, he is very handsome.”

It was easier than Obi-Wan expected to give Padmé a besotted look. She smiled at him, her fingers tightening on his. “I thank you for the compliment,” she said to the Queen Mother.

The Queen Mother looked momentarily disappointed. “I have made an error, I fear. I wish you joy in your union.” Padmé inclined her head. “Will you and he join us in an after dinner entertainment?”

Padmé’s fingers tightened around Obi-Wan’s again, but this time her feelings flashed a warning at him. “What kind?”

“A woman does like to relax after a long day, and a consort, or a husband, can be a great help in that.” The Queen Mother gave Padmé a look that spoke volumes. Obi-Wan, glancing at them from the corner of his eye, saw Padmé blush.

“I will think about it,” she said, and the Queen Mother inclined her head again. General conversation began again, and Padmé leaned a little closer to Obi-Wan.

“It’s a competition, in a way. I thought this was a myth, too.”

“Don’t tell me,” Obi-Wan murmured, his body sparking alive at the memory of the last local tradition they had participated in. “Public sex?”

They hadn’t talked about it afterwards. Obi-Wan was almost sure Padmé had kept the phallus, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. They talked about everything except the time they had sex, and whether they wanted to do it again.

Perhaps, Obi-Wan mused, they were both hesitating for the same reason. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, and he doubted Padmé did either. Regular sex had a tendency to complicate things.

Padmé gave a small nod. “In a way. The men compete to see who can give the woman he is… servicing the most orgasms.” Obi-Wan’s brain started whirring, only to stutter to a stop at her next soft phrase. “With his mouth.”

Obi-Wan reached for his wine and sipped it, his mouth inexplicably dry. “I see,” he said, and sipped again.

Padmé touched his elbow. “You don’t have to.” Her emotions swept over him in the Force, hope, dread, lust, concern. Obi-Wan set his glass down and turned to see her face.

They really needed to talk after this, if only so they would stop having to confer in plain sight every time a situation like this came up. “I don’t mind.”

She beamed at him, and squeezed his elbow. When the meal finished and the Queen Mother turned an inquiring look at them, Padmé took Obi-Wan’s hand in hers and nodded.

The Queen Mother smiled in return and had them brought to a smaller room than the grand dining hall. Low couches were positioned in a circle, with a padded bench at one end and a pile of pillow at the opposite. Padmé was motioned to one upholstered in blue, a complement to her yellow dress. She sat, only the Force revealing to Obi-Wan her nervousness, and Obi-Wan knelt before her on the padded bench. It was more comfortable than he’d expected.

“A little help,” the Queen Mother said, and small goblets were brought to each of the ladies. By accident or design, the tray was low enough Obi-Wan could smell the contents of the glasses: sweet and strong, intoxicating

An enhancer, like the passionflower oil Talus had offered. Padmé hesitated, her eyes on Obi-Wan, then she took the tiny goblet, swallowed the liquid inside in one gulp and set the glass back on the tray.

Her eyes went wide as she swallowed, then her pupils expanded as her skin began to shimmer with perspiration. Obi-Wan took her hand when she extended it to him, unsurprised when she dragged him into a kiss.

“It’s stronger than I thought,” she gasped into the space between between their mouths. She kissed him again and Obi-Wan could taste the last traces of the potion on her tongue, spicy as well as sweet. His cock hardened in his pants, but he pushed that concern aside.

He had other matters to attend to.

Obi-Wan heard murmurs and moans around them as the others began, and he lifted his head from Padmé’s intoxicating kisses. “Let me help you,” he said to her, and Padmé, her eyes only a thin rim of brown around her endless pupil, nodded. He flipped her skirt up and fumbled for a moment before he realized how to remove her undergarments.

She arranged herself against the pillows as Obi-Wan got her legs bare, and he folded himself back onto the bench, bringing his face close to her lap. She was warm and fragrant, and when he hesitated longer than she liked, Padmé put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him down.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, smelling Padmé, musk and sex, and leaned in, taking a long, experimental lick. Padmé made a pleased sound, so he did it again, learning his way around her sex with his tongue.

Her hand stayed on his head, and Obi-Wan began to judge whether he was doing well or not by how hard her fingers dug into him. He gave her the first orgasm mostly by accident and she nearly broke his nose when she started to buck and scream. Obi-Wan drew back to a safer distance until she was finished, then pressed his mouth to her cunt and continued.

She seemed almost primed after than, and Obi-Wan had little trouble sending her to climax several times right after the first. Padmé was making enough noise that it was easy for him to forget they were surrounded by others. There was nothing but Padmé, her fingers in his hair and her taste all around him.

Sometime later, a hand at his shoulder distracted him from licking Padmé through another orgasm. When Obi-Wan lifted his head, a servant offered him a glass of water. He drank it down in three gulps, and turned back to Padmé, urged back to his task with her strong, delicate fingers.

He fell into something like a trance, and it took longer than he expected for Obi-Wan to realize Padmé was moving away from his mouth, rather than toward it, and her fingers were pushing him away. He raised his head, only now feeling how sore his jaw was, and the servant from before was back with more water. And when he had gulped that down, a hot, damp towel. Obi-Wan cleaned his face and hand, and took the second towel offered to him with a head tilt of confusion. A nudge at his shoulder toward Padmé clued him in, and he wiped her legs and thighs off as gently as possible.

Even with his care, Padmé gave a soft whimper. Obi-Wan tucked her undergarments partly into a pouch at his belt and lowered her skirts to cover her. Her makeup was ruined, running in streaks from her eyes and mouth, where tears and perspiration had melted it. Her hair was rumpled and tangled, fallen from the elaborate hairstyle it had been in at the beginning of the night, but Obi-Wan still thought Padmé’s own beauty outshone the carefully bred men and women around them.

There were murmurs around the room, and Padmé struggled into a sitting position. Obi-Wan sat beside her, and let her lean on him. Padmé flashed him a grateful smile.

“Your husband’s efforts were most impressive,” the Queen Mother said. She looked mussed as well, though still perfect in a decorative ornament kind of way. “You are to be congratulated.”

“Thank you,” Padmé rasped, and the same servant hurried to them with a glass of water for her. Padmé took it with a nod of thanks and drank it slowly.

“Ceris will show you to your rooms, Ami. Rest well, and we will see you in the morning for further talks.” The Queen Mother swept out of the room, followed by most of the others, many of the woman supported by their paramours. Obi-Wan noted absently that not all were escorted by men.

The servant waited for Padmé to finish her drink, then took the empty glass. “If you will follow me, sir, Ambassador?”

Padmé stood and nearly fell, her knees giving beneath her. Obi-Wan caught her and scooped her up, settling her against his chest. Padmé sighed against his neck and closed her eyes.

“That was amazing, but I need to sleep for a week now,” she murmured.

Obi-Wan fought a grin and inclined his head to Ceris. “Lead on,” he said, and carried Padmé to their rooms. She dozed off on the way, and only stirred when he set her on the bed.

There was only one, of course, but it was hardly the first time they had shared. He sat behind her and worked on unfastening the long line of buttons and snaps holding her dress closed.

“Ben,” she said, voice still showing signs of how she’d damaged it while he pleasured her, “about today-”

“Yes,” he said, and helped her stand so he could take her dress off. Obi-Wan turned and found her a nightgown, leaving her to get out of the underdress on her own. He handed over the nightgown without looking, and started unfastening his belt.

“I should have-”

“Ami.” He turned to face her, shirt mostly unbuttoned and belt neatly placed on a chair. Padmé’s dress was crumpled on the floor, and she was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking young and confused. She needed to wash her face off before she slept.

“Ami, anything you need from me, in situations like this, I am always willing to do.” Obi-Wan looked her in the eye, noting the color that flushed her cheeks.

She looked away, blushing more, and Obi-Wan picked up her clothes and shook them out. He draped them over another chair, and went back to getting ready for bed.

“Anything is a lot,” she said. Obi-Wan folded his shirt and glanced at her over his shoulder. She was looking intently at him, but her gaze snapped up to his face when he looked at her. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at her.

“I trust you,” he said, and it was true, he did. They had been through so much already. This was unfamiliar territory, particularly for him, but Obi-Wan was confident they would navigate it together.

Padmé got unsteadily back to her feet, and came over to him. Her slight frame fit well into his arms when she hugged him. “Thank you. Same. Trusting, and whatever the situation calls for.” She leaned up to look at him, and her mouth quirked in a mischievous smile. “I know how much you like being culturally sensitive.”

“It’s a good skill for a negotiator,” he told her with dignity, and she laughed. Obi-Wan fetched her a cloth to clean her face, and finished changing while she did so.

They lay down on opposite sides of the bed, Obi-Wan closest to the door, and he lowered the lights. “Ben?” Padmé said, touching his back. He made a soft inquiring sound.

“Thank you for everything,” she said, and turned over to sleep. Obi-Wan smiled into the dark and closed his eyes.


3. Scarif (fellatio)

Obi-Wan didn’t have favorite planets. Jedi were not big on attachment to anything, and that including picking favorites on anything. But the fourth day of the friendship festival on Scarif, he decided he was going to break that rule, too.

“Scarif is my favorite planet!” he shouted in Padmé’s ear as the crowd surrounding them finally pressed them back together. She giggled and leaned up to peck his cheek.

“Mine, too!” she yelled back, and then she was gone again, swept away by the surging mass of humanity. Obi-Wan smiled after her and accepted another tiny glass he was offered, drinking down the contents in one gulp.

The exchange might have had a little something to do with all the alcohol the nice people of Scarif had been giving them since negotiations ended, but Obi-Wan was a little fuzzy on the details.

He was more or less sober when he found Padmé shortly before the banquet was to begin. She twirled into him and he caught her shoulders, at this point used to smiling at whomever he’d steadied before releasing them. At Padmé’s answering smile, he tightened his arms instead of letting go, and hugged her close.

“As I understand it, tonight’s banquet is a celebration of love and commitment. You can show your affection to a friend or a spouse however you like,” she told him. She was hugging back just as tightly. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said, and perhaps he was not completely sober. But neither was anyone else at this point.

They had a place of honor at the high table, as guests and ambassadors, and food and drink came in an endless stream. There were speeches, declarations, and one woman stood up from her table, swayed over to another table and sat in the lap of another woman.

“I adore you,” she said loudly enough to be heard above the ambient noise, and kissed the second woman soundly before she slid out of the chair. She climbed under the table, and, judging from the noises that began, under the other woman’s skirt, and Obi-Wan prudently looked away.

Another server came by, with tiny glasses of a vivid, green liquid. Padmé waved it away, her hands full of fruit and a slice of bread. Obi-Wan gave a small nod and picked one up, tossing it back without thinking much about it.

“Oh, blast, that stuff's more common than womp rats!” Padmé said, just as Obi-Wan realized he may have made a mistake. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his cock stiffened with unseemingly haste. Padmé dropped her food and turned his face to hers. Just the touch of her skin on his made Obi-Wan moan.

“I should have recognized that,” she said, and stood up. “At least now I know how to pay you back for Hapes.”

She tugged on his hand until he stood, and he staggered after her as she pulled him to a row of chairs near the front of the stage. There were padded footrests nearby, and Obi-Wan was reminded of the ‘competition’ room on Hapes.

Padmé pushed him into a chair, then kissed him, her tongue only seeming to fan the flames of the fire licking at Obi-Wan’s veins. He heard cheering and applause, but it all paled compared to the reality of Padmé’s mouth on his.

She lifted her head, and he whimpered, unable to help himself. His cock was straining the front of his trousers, so hard it hurt, and he could feel his under trousers getting damp from the copious amounts of liquid leaking from him. Padmé gave him a smile and turned to the watching crowd.

“People of Scarif!” she said, and more cheering greeted her. “You have been so kind, and so welcoming, to both myself, and to my dear husband! And so, in accordance with your traditions, I wish you to witness my gift of love for him.”

The crowd went wild, and Padmé turned away from them, moving back to kiss Obi-Wan again. Her hand landed in his lap and he moaned brokenly as she squeezed the aching flesh of his cock. A few more minutes of her attentions and Obi-Wan accidentally bit down on her lip as he spent in his trousers.

Padmé unfastened his belt and opened his trousers, and Obi-Wan felt the effects of the drug start working on him again, swelling his cock to meet her hand. She knelt on one of the padded footrests, and pulled his cock free. Padmé bent to lick at the slit on the head of his penis. Obi-Wan hissed, amazed at how much the drug he’d taken was affecting him. Her tongue felt amazing, better even than the best orgasm he’d ever had (on Dathomir, with her phallus lodged firmly in his anus, and his hips jerked a little at the memory. Obi-Wan needed to find a way to ask for that again). Padmé moved her head with his hips and took more of his cock into her wet mouth, wrapping her hand around the base to help guide him. The heat of her tongue was incredible.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to further enhance the sensations of what Padmé was doing to him. He could hear the sounds of the crowd still surrounding them, but it seemed unimportant and far away. Obi-Wan fisted his hands in Padmé’s hair and held on.

She let him slip out of her mouth and licked her way from the root to the head, then across the head like it was some kind of treat. Obi-Wan clenched his fingers tighter and resisted the urge to thrust forward. As if she could hear his desire, Padmé opened her mouth wider and swallowed him down again, making a small satisfied sound as she did so.

Padmé moved her hand and swallowed his cock to the root, and he bit back a shout. Her eyes were dancing as she glanced up at him, and she backed off for a large breath, then did it again.

He could feel his orgasm gathering, and he released his fists to lace his fingers through her hair and guide her. She rubbed her tongue under his cock head again, and Obi-Wan groaned as he climaxed in her mouth. Padmé swallowed rapidly, but a small trickle escaped from the corner of her mouth.

She straightened, and the surrounding crowd applauded. Padmé wiped her face off, and glanced up at him, perhaps trying to judge how much of the drug remained in his system. “Better?” she asked softly, and leaned into him.

At this angle, Obi-Wan could see straight down her dress, and the view only seemed to stoke the fires her mouth had helped bank. “Not exactly,” he admitted, and Padmé’s eyes went wide as he hardened again. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks burn, both with lust and embarrassment.

She took it in stride, wrapping her hand back around his base and her lips back around his cock. She drew it out longer this time, alternating little teasing licks and nibbles up his shaft and over the head with strong, deep sucks. Obi-Wan clung to her hair again and held on for dear life, not letting the sounds he couldn’t keep from making embarrass him. He managed to pry his eyes open enough to see they’d started a trend, with several other couples joining them in the chairs.

He let his eyes drift shut again as Padmé tugged with her teeth on his foreskin, and his hips jerked yet again.

This final orgasm coiled around his spine for a long while until Padmé pressed her tongue below his cock head and applied gentle pressure to his testicles. Then it rushed to the fore, and he shouted wordlessly as he climaxed harder than he had before in his life. Padmé moved her mouth back when it was full, and he shot the last several burst onto her face, one landing just over her eyes, another in her hair.

He fell back into the chair, panting and exhausted, and more sated than he’d ever been, and Padmé stood, displaying her face for more cheering before she wiped herself clean on a proffered towel. She wiped his cock clean, and Obi-Wan bit back a whine, then she carefully tidied the mess in his under trousers from his first orgasm, and tucked him away in slightly damp cloth.

Obi-Wan swayed when he stood, and she had to help him back to their seats. He wanted nothing more than a long nap and maybe some water, but the banquet was far from over. He was much more careful with his choices in drinks from then on.

Their primary contact, the Scarif’s head negotiator, came by near the end of the night to congratulate them. “Many outsiders find our ways strange,” she said. “Very few have been so…”

“Culturally sensitive?” Padmé asked, and Obi-Wan breathed carefully to keep from choking on his bite of some fruit concoction he’d been told was a dessert delicacy. “Ben and I pride ourselves on being respectful of local traditions.”

The negotiator smiled. “If your entire organization shares your opinions, we shall do well.”

Padmé smiled again, and the woman moved off. Obi-Wan poked her. “That was mean, trying to make me laugh.”

“You’re fine,” she said, and kissed him, sweet and soft. The more they did things like this, Obi-Wan considered, the more comfortable they were with one another.

And the more he really felt married. He knew it was mostly just a convenient fiction, given truth by the Dathomir ritual, but it felt more real every time Padmé said it.

They probably needed to discuss it soon, he thought, and squeezed Padmé’s hand before he started eating again.


4. Rishi (anal)

They hadn’t talked about it, but Obi-Wan had noticed that their casual touches had increased: holding hands, guiding one another with a hand on the back, cheek and forehead kisses, and even just sitting in one another’s space. It probably should have worried him, as a man conditioned nearly from birth to avoid attachment.

It didn’t.

With the clone facilities of Kamino mostly idle as the Empire recruited young men to fill their ranks, the Republic monitoring stations on Rishi had been largely abandoned. But Bail had heard rumors of a rising underground of discontented citizens, so Obi-Wan and Padmé were sent to make contact.

The head of the underground frowned when they got off the ship, but she was polite enough in welcoming them. After initial talks were concluded, Obi-Wan turned to her. “Why did you frown when we arrived, Leader Vare?”

Vare frowned again. “It’s a sad fact of our culture, but many of my people don’t like seeing outworlders of mixed gender who aren’t married.”

Padmé rested her hand on Obi-Wan’s. “But we are married.”

Vare shook her head. “Not by our standards. We don’t have a set ritual for off worlders, but to be married here involves a public exchange of vows and a consummation.”

“Also public?” Padmé asked. Obi-Wan turned his hand and laced their fingers together. Padmé squeezed his hand.

“Of course,” Vare said. “It’s tradition.”

Obi-Wan exchanged glances with Padmé. After everything they’d been through, he certainly had no qualms.

From the look on her face, neither did Padmé. “Does the manner of consummation matter?” he asked. Vare looked surprised to be asked.

“No, not at all. We have always had marriages of all kinds, so it is up to the couple what they want to perform as their joining.”

Padmé squeezed his fingers tighter. “Are there standard vows?”

Vare looked simultaneously startled and delighted. “You are willing to get married in our fashion?”

“If it will help, then yes,” Obi-Wan said. “We have a great deal of respect for local traditions.”

She clasped her hands together in delight. “I will have the vows brought to you, and the ceremony announced. You would be willing to have it tomorrow? It’s a good day for a marriage, in our culture.”

“Of course,” Padmé agreed. There was much fluttering of good wishes, and Obi-Wan and Padmé were shown to a room where they could spend the night. They were brought food, the vows, and the traditional outfits worn before the consummation commenced, and left to study them.

Obi-Wan looked over the vows, trying not to laugh. “They like their harvest metaphors here.”

“I think they’re sweet,” Padmé said, turning her back so he could unfasten her dress. He focused on the buttons, feeling her tension in her back.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. Padmé shivered as her spoke in her ear, and turned to face him. Her eyes were warm and fond.

“It’s weird, but I think I am. Like this one is real, and Dathomir was just a practice run.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly, feeling her warm lips against his. “I understand.”

Padmé gave him another smile, and turned away to finish taking off her dress. “I was thinking we could do something similar for this marriage.”

Obi-Wan went back to studying the vows. “Are you going to ask for a phallus?”

“I meant me.”

That got his attention again. Padmé was looking away from him, but he could see the curve of her cheek and how red she was. “Are you sure?”

Now she met his eyes, and though she was blushing fiercely, there was no hesitation in her face. “If you don’t object.”

“Why would I?” he asked, and smiled at her. “If that’s how you’d like tomorrow to go, we can make it work.”

For that, he got another kiss, then Padmé went into the fresher to finish getting ready for bed. Obi-Wan slipped out to find Vare, who looked pleased that they had made a decision already. “We’ll provide the supplies on the altar.”

Not thinking too much of it, Obi-Wan agreed and went back to the room, where Padmé had already curled up in bed. He got ready as quietly as possible and slid into the enormous bed on his side, letting the now familiar sound of her breathing lull him to sleep.

The next day, after the vows had been recited, Obi-Wan looked at the bottle provided on the altar and wished he’d asked more questions. There was a vine wrapped around it, very like the one that had been on the passionflower oil on Dathomir, and when he took a cautious sniff, Obi-Wan could smell the drug laced into the oil. He leaned down to kiss Padmé, aware of the murmurs of their audience. “The oil is like that Hapan potion.”

Padmé paused a second before their lips touched, then she pulled him the rest of the way down and kissed him fiercely, tongue in his mouth. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Do you?”

He shook his head fractionally, and helped her out of the gauzy dress they’d had her wear. Padmé made more of a show of stripping him of his trousers, equally as light, and they garnered a few cheers for that. One woman made a fairly loud comment about the size of Obi-Wan’s package, as she referred to it, and he tried not to blush while Padmé winked at the woman and fondled him.

“You are a wicked woman,” he murmured to her, and pressed her down to the bed on the altar. He kissed his way down her front, laving her small breasts with his tongue, and gave her moist, fragrant center a long, lush lick. Padmé moaned loudly, and grabbed a handful of his hair.

Obi-Wan lifted her hips in his hands and licked further back, flicking his tongue over her anus. Padmé squeaked and her hands tightened in his hair. “Ben?” she asked.

She tasted earthy here, musky and strong, but not bad. Remembering the rapid effect of the drug in the oil on both of them, Obi-Wan wanted to get as much as he could done before he applied it. Once the oil came into play, Obi-Wan figured things would progress rapidly, and he didn't want to hurt Padmé.

He pressed his tongue against her anus until it started to give, and used small licks to open her body further. Padmé dug her fingers into his head and made pleased sounds. When he was satisfied she was as open as he could get her, he leaned back and reached for the oil.

Just coating his fingers in the oil was enough to make his breath catch, and Obi-Wan pressed first one finger, then another into her anus, applying the oil to her skin. He worked his fingers slowly into her, ignoring Padmé’s increasing desperate pulling of his hair and the insistent press of his cock against his stomach. By the time he slicked up his cock and pulled Padmé into his lap, they were both panting hard, the drug in full force in both of them.

Padmé sank slowly down onto his cock, both of them making more noise than he was expecting. Padmé dug her nails into his shoulders and tipped her head back, and Obi-Wan sucked a mark onto her neck, just above her collarbone.

“Stars, this may have been a mistake,” she murmured to him as she settled in his lap. “You’re a lot bigger from this angle.”

Obi-Wan laughed and lifted her up to let her slide back down again. “You feel incredible,” he said. If he’d thought her mouth was hot and tight, it was nothing compared to the clench of her anus around his cock. “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head, and lifted herself this time. Obi-Wan moved up to meet her downward slide, and they found themselves a rhythm. He was closer than he liked, due to the drug, but it didn’t seem to matter too much when Padmé tightened around him and he thrust up hard. His orgasm ripped through him and he could feel Padmé convulse as she found her release at nearly the same time.

There was a scattering of applause from their audience. Obi-Wan ignored it, more distracted by the way his body was not yet finished, his cock hardening again inside Padmé. He pulled free, and she groaned in protest. “Turn over,” he urged her, and she did, propped herself up on elbows and knees. Her arms shook when she tried to lever herself up more, and Obi-Wan pressed her shoulders back down. He lined his cock up, teasing them both for a moment by circling her anus.

“Don’t be a selfish jerk,” Padmé muttered into the pillow her head was resting on, and Obi-Wan felt a grin stretch his mouth as he pushed back into her body. At this angle, he could go faster, and harder, too. Padmé gave loud, frequent instructions to that effect, and he obeyed his new wife, much to the delight of their audience. He could see several couples who seem to be inspired by them, hands and mouths and sometimes other body parts drifting from view as they witnessed Obi-Wan and Padmé’s consummation. Obi-Wan ran his hand down Padmé’s back, then took firmer hold of her hip and kept moving.

She climaxed twice, noisily, her hands underneath her rubbing at her clit as he fucked her anus. Each time, she fluttered delightfully around him, tightening and loosening with her convulsions. Obi-Wan bit his lip to hold on, though his orgasm threatened to overwhelm his control.

Finally, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, and Obi-Wan cried out as he spilled his seed into Padmé. He slumped over her after, bone tired and incredibly satisfied. He wanted a drink, a shower, and something to eat before he napped for a week.

Padmé shifted and grumbled, and he managed to move off of her, gathering her to his chest. They had time for a quick, soft kiss, before they were lifted up, wiped off, and carried off to finish celebrating with a somewhat sparse meal. Knowing that the underground on Rishi was having a hard time getting enough supplies, Obi-Wan was touched they got even so much of the traditional feast.

Vare came to offer her congratulations. “You are very welcome among us now.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around Padmé, who snuggled sleepily into him. “We’ve had good experiences being culturally sensitive.”

She pinched his thigh, but she laughed, too. Vare smiled uncertainly, but didn’t ask.


5. Endor (vaginal)

Endor was a treat after the built up metropolitan cities Obi-Wan and Padmé had been going to lately. They had been lucky enough to stumble onto a group of hunters, returning home in triumph. After a brief and somewhat hurried discussion through C-3PO, Padmé had managed to shoot three more of the birds the Ewoks were after.

Obi-Wan was pretty sure they were going to find it hard to leave, after that.

“Master Ben,” Threepio said through the flap of the hut, “the Ewoks want to know if your clothing fits correctly.”

The grateful natives had pulled out skins, newly tanned and treated for a tent, and instead cut out new clothes for both he and Padmé. Obi-Wan had to admit to being impressed: For a group that seemed to favor only headdresses for themselves, they had a decent sense of style.

The tunic and trousers he wore might be a little rustic, but they were surprisingly comfortable, and well made.

He ducked to get out of the hut, and nearly walked straight into Threepio. At first, it had been bittersweet to see the droid again. Captain Antilles had wiped his memory, so Threepio didn’t recognize them, but seeing his golden form had brought back all sorts of memories of Obi-Wan.

By the time they’d found the Ewoks, Obi-Wan had remembered how annoying the droid was.

“Do be careful, Master Ben!” Threepio scolded him. “Well, those don’t look bad at all.”

“Tell the Ewoks I appreciate them,” Obi-Wan instructed, and moved down the walkway to the hut he could feel Padmé in.

He tapped at the door frame. “Ami? Are you ready?”

“Be right out,” she said, and Obi-Wan stepped back. He smiled when she appeared, looking regal even in the simple dress they’d fashioned for her. She’d even let them take her hair down and braid part of it to frame her face, leaving the rest flowing free to her waist.

Obi-Wan took her hand and kissed it. “You look lovely,” he said, and Padmé beamed at him. The Ewoks surrounded them in a waist high wave, and guided them to the feasting platform to eat.

Besides the birds Padmé and the other hunters had brought in, the feast consisted of berries, and a juice pressed from them, some kind of tuber, mashed, and several different varieties of leafy vegetables. At first, Obi-Wan discretely scanned each dish before he or Padmé tried it, but none seemed to be dangerous for human digestion, so he tucked the scanner away again.

A taller Ewok brought out a tray of flowers stuffed with some kind of mushroom, and offered the tray first to the chief, then the shaman, then Obi-Wan. He and Padmé each took one with respectful nods, and bit into the treats.

“Oh, dear,” said Threepio, just as Obi-Wan tasted the pollen on the flower and felt his blood start to heat. He glanced at Padmé, who rolled her eyes at him, shrugged, and kept chewing.

The mushrooms were amazing, and it wasn’t like this would be the first time they’d dealt with accidentally being fed an aphrodisiac. He put the second half in his mouth and closed his eyes to better concentrate on the flavors.

“Master Ben, Mistress Ami, the Ewoks tell me that flower dish can sometimes have a very… strange effect on adults.”

Padmé licked the last trace of the mushroom and flower juice off her fingers. Obi-Wan found himself staring at her tongue, at her glistening fingers. He leaned in and licked a stray trickle off the back of her knuckle.

“Yes, Threepio,” Padmé said, not breaking eye contact with Obi-Wan. “We realized that when we ate it.”

“Oh, dear,” the droid repeated, then got distracted by the chief saying something to him. “Oh my goodness!”

Obi-Wan held in a sigh and let go of Padmé’s hand. “What is it?”

“I’d really rather not say,” Threepio said, stiffly. “The Ewoks are trying to ask for something completely unacceptable.”

Padmé rolled her eyes again, and tugged at her neckline. Obi-Wan traced the path of a drop of sweat as it rolled down her throat to her clavicles with his eyes, barely keeping himself from catching it with his tongue. The heat between them was incredible.

“We’ll decide what’s acceptable,” Padmé said. “What are they asking?”

“It’s really not appropriate,” Threepio insisted.

Obi-Wan fixed Threepio with a steady glare, and tried to keep his voice from shaking. “Tell us.”

The droid somehow conveyed a distasteful expression despite not having the facial ability to make one. “They are asking if they can watch your mating rituals. They’ve never seen humans mate, and they’re curious.”

Padmé looked up at Obi-Wan, then they both started laughing. Threepio continued huffily, “I told them it was out of the question, and very disrespectful to ask.”

“We’ll do it,” Obi-Wan said. “But ask if we can have another flower first. And a bed.”

Threepio stared at him for a long moment before he translated the requests. Almost at once, there were more flowers for them, and Obi-Wan picked one up and pressed it to Padmé’s lips. “Might as well put on a good show, right?”

She grinned wickedly at him and took a bite. “Of course.” Obi-Wan ate the second half himself, and she shared hers with him the same way, giving him first bite. He tugged off his tunic as he finished chewing, far too hot to keep wearing it. There were murmurs from the Ewoks, and the closest ones reached to touch his chest and arms.

The fur on their paws tickled, and he couldn’t help squirming, trying not to laugh. Padmé smiled at him and ran her nails down his chest, catching a nipple on the way back. His hips jerked up, pressing his cock more against his leather trousers. “Don’t tease,” he warned her, and Padmé grinned and did it again.

Thankfully for Obi-Wan’s self control, Threepio cleared his throat noisily just then. “They say they have brought you a bed.”

It was a pile of furs and pillows, and Obi-Wan was pretty sure it was actually made up of several beds, but it would fit both he and Padmé comfortably, and at this point, that was all he needed. He helped Padmé to her feet, and they made their way to the bed.

Her dress, unlike the ones she normally wore, was very easy to take off, and Obi-Wan lifted it off over her head, trying to be careful of her hair. He set it down next to the bed, and Padmé reached for the laces of his trousers, tugging on them and brushing against his hard cock. Obi-Wan held in a moan and reached down to help. Together, they got him as naked as she was, and they sank down onto the bed, hands already exploring one another’s bodies.

Padmé ended up mostly on top, and leaned down to kiss him as she stroked his cock. “Not going to last if you keep doing that,” he warned her, and she nipped his lip, held him straight, and swung a leg over his waist to sink down onto his cock. Obi-Wan reached to guide her hips and was struck by the thought that for all the sex they’ve had, and after two marriage ceremonies, this was the first time the were having what many people would consider ‘normal’ sex.

It felt amazing, though no better than anything else they’d done. Padmé’s cunt was hot, wet and tight, and she ground herself down, pressing her clit to his pelvis bone. She was close, he could tell from her breathing, and Obi-Wan knew he was not far behind.

She moved up and down several more times, and Obi-Wan brushed the place where they joined before he managed to get his fingers on her clit. He pinched and she keened, her cunt rippling around him as she climaxed. Obi-Wan thrust up hard and spent inside of her, too far gone to worry about if he should. Padmé didn’t object, and even encouraged him, continuing to move as she climaxed a second time.

Obi-Wan reversed their positions, putting Padmé on her back and moving in between her legs again. His softened cock slid out as they rolled, but the pollen was stiffening him swiftly. Padmé smiled up at him and pulled him down to kiss.

He slid two fingers into her and pressed against the rough patch he knew was there from Hapes, and Padmé’s hips rose to meet his hand. “More?” he offered, and she kissed him again, pulling him closer. Obi-Wan lined their bodies up and slid back into her, and they rocked together, easier now that the initial edge was off.

There were more murmurs as the Ewoks asked questions of Threepio, and Obi-Wan laughed into Padmé’s hair at the tone of the droid’s stilted replies. But there were much better things to focus on, and Obi-Wan almost wondered if he would find sex without an audience missing something.

Padmé wrapped her legs against his hips and hooked her feet together just above his ass. “Faster, please,” she ordered, and Obi-Wan kissed her and obeyed, moving more quickly to meet her upward motion. She dropped a hand between them to rub at her clit, and Obi-Wan kissed down her neck. He could feel the scream in her throat before she released it, bucking beneath him as she climaxed again.

He rode out her orgasm, then continued striving for his as she went still beneath him. “Come on,” she breathed into his ear, murmuring encouragement that thankfully none of the Ewoks could understand. “Come on, Ben, you can do it. Come for me, husband.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip and thrust in hard, but there was no stopping it now. His orgasm felt ripped from him, and yet incredibly satisfying, and he slumped down onto Padmé once he’d finished climaxing. As usual, the aftermath of the pollen left him exhausted and desperately thirsty.

Padmé held him close, her soft kisses over his forehead and upper cheeks incredibly soothing, but eventually she began to shift under him. “Ready to stop crushing me?”

He rolled them onto their sides and pressed his face to her neck, breathing in the scent of flowers and Padmé and sex. “You’re so demanding.”

“I’m not the only one,” she pointed out, and squeezed a handful of his ass to make him jump. He leaned back to look at her reproachfully, and she kissed him, soft and sweet.

“The Ewoks thank you very much for the demonstration,” Threepio announced above them, sounding very put out. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have simply told them no.”

“We’re trying to build relationships of respect so the Rebellion can use their planet as a hiding spot or depot, Threepio,” Padmé reminded the droid. “We want them to like and trust us.”

“And it always pays to be culturally sensitive,” Obi-Wan added. Padmé looked at him and smiled.

They had started wearing rings after Rishi, a visible symbol of their union. Padmé’s twinkled at him in the torchlight as she ran her hand down his face.

“It’s always worked out well for us so far,” she agreed, and they kissed again.

Threepio made a displeased sound, and turned his back on them in prudish disgust. Overhead, the stars shone, and unseen night birds sang their songs. Obi-Wan helped Padmé clean up and get dressed again, and they rejoined their new friends.