(A/N) This one is Obitine :) I highly recommend listening to "Ave Maria" by Beyonce, 'tis what I was listening to the entire time I wrote this. Next chapter up is prolly Anidala.

Please R and R, let me know what you think, good or bad!

"Would you like to come in for a bit? It will be easier to talk where we won't be interrupted." His heart leapt up into his throat, and he considered saying no. His spine was tingling already, being this close to her. He could control himself. His control was legendary.

"Of course, Duchess." He avoided saying her name, attempting to keep it formal. She gestured for him to come in behind her, and he did, swallowing down words that he would regret saying. It was a typical guest apartment of the Senate complex, but along the countertops, he could see the symbols of Mandalore. Their official seal, cut into a glass weight on the end of the counter, various remnants she carried with her from the sea shore that surrounded the peaceful city where the palace lay. "I like your decorations."

"Thank you. It is nice, when surrounded by strangers, to keep a piece of home with you." She, too, is maintaining a civil tone.

"Not all strangers." The words slip past his lips before he can stop them or the deep blush that accompanies them.

"Are you sure?" He asks, only because he feels as though he must. There is no question in her movements, which are undressing him with a few fluttering touches along his chest. His belt is handing over her chair, his lightsaber in almost close enough for him to grasp, and soon, his tunic joins them.

"I am always sure about you, Obi-Wan." And he knows that she cannot lie to him. She has never second-guessed their actions. She has known the consequences of love, of their former relationship, the pain that their actions have brought them before, but still, that does not stop her. He unbuckles the clasps of her headdress, sending it to join his own accessories. "It is myself I am questioning."

And for good reason, he thinks. They have never taken this step, for parting afterwards always seemed to be to painful. But now, alone in her apartment, when she seems so close to him again, he is losing the ability to stop them. He wasn't sure he would ever have been able to manage it by himself anyway, the way her hands are twining into the hair at the back of his neck, shifting so his hands fall on the zipper of her dress.

"No, I suppose not." And she can't quite look at him as they move to sit on the couch. Whatever was said between them in front of Tal Merrick, whatever they had held all those years ago, is finally tangible tension that separates them. They are seated for all of two minutes before she stands again, her agile motions breaking the silence.

"Would you like some tea?" He is not the biggest fan of tea, at least not without a thick serving of honey, but he is no mood to refuse her. He nods, still not trusting his words after his last outburst.

"I have breakfast tea, or calming tea. Which would you prefer?" He watches her rifle through a cabinet, trying not to focus on the curving portions of her dress.

"Calming tea, I think." She sets the pot to boiling, and begins to unload the tea bag, missing the "I think I could definitely use it." That he mutters under his breath.

The fabric comes free in his hands, pooling at her feet as her lips come back to his, and he feels like downing in the taste of her. Her skin is warm against his, and he wonders, vaguely, if that means he feels cold to her. Her hands have left his neck, and instead are cutting paths across a war-wracked body on their way down to untie the strings of his leggings.

He wonders if they are moving too quickly, but his body is responding to every one of her touches, urging him onward. He wants to see her, so he breaks their kiss and takes in the smooth skin he can see that isn't covered by what remains of her underclothes. There, above her hip, is the scar she talked about earlier, from so long ago. He brushes the knuckled of his index finger against it, and she, through the thick blonde hair that has fallen free from its confines, looks up at him, smiling gently.

"You do remember, then." Her own fingers are tracing lines that are cut across his back. Scars she can't see, scars he has no desire to remember, not now, looking at her, reacting to her touch.

"I still say that I didn't drop you," And she laughs, and the way it presses her into him makes him pull her into another kiss.

As it seems, he isn't the only one who likes honey as she drops an entire comb into her mug to melt with the steam that is curling from it. "Tell me, Master Jedi, of one of your great adventures." He knows she is teasing, but offering him a chance to move the conversation away from them, if he so wishes. To get rid of his obligation to speak about the pair of them.

"I wouldn't call them great, your Grace. Adventures, perhaps, but not great." And she's smiling at him over the lip of her mug, and he knows that all he wants to talk about is them. "How is Mandalore? Before all of this happened, I mean." He is again stumbling over words, which is so uncharacteristic, she must know what is happening in his mind. She doesn't answer for a moment, and he can see the question in her eyes of what to say. What to open for discussion.

"Much the same as when you left all those years ago." Everything. She had opened everything.

He feels his pants, now free from both his belt and the strings holding them, fall to the floor. He kicks them away with his feet, and she looks down at him. His eyes follow hers, and he blushes, looking back to her shoulder as he sees where her eyes settle for a brief moment longer than he was expecting. Her hands stay settled on his waist, her fingers on the sharp cut of his hips bones where they cut diagonally into the black boxer briefs he is wearing.

He moved his fingers around her back, and though he doesn't have experience with it, using the force, he manages to unhook her bra after only a couple of tries. He leaves it loose on her skin, though, waiting on her permission before he moves. To his surprise, she does nothing for a long moment except press her forehead into his bare chest, dragging her hand over the thick, defines muscles of his abdomen.

Then, in a motion that surprised him with its swiftness, she took his hand, falling onto the bed, and pulling him down to where he hovered on top of her, his eyes level with hers as she peeled the bra off and exposed her upper body to him for the first time.

"Right." He said, taking a sip, ignoring the small burn on the tip of his tongue. "I don't remember being too focused on the state of the planet at that time." And now he had opened everything. He knew the insinuation behind his words. The reason for his departure, for her allowing him to leave so easily.

"Yes, therein lies the problem of you staying behind with me all those years ago. " She set her tea on the table, forgetting it now that they had opened up the real conversation.

"I apologize if I was a distraction." He didn't discard his own tea so easily, but the more he drank of it, the more it tasted too sweet on his tongue, and seemed to be fogging his mind with the hazy steam that was rolling off of it.

He moved against her skin, the smooth lamplight of her room giving the alabaster color a glow that he had not expected. She's more than beautiful. She's perfect, and he wants to show her. He uses his lips, his fingers, his tongue, wanting to hear every noise that comes from her lips, every word that are now meant only for him and running electric sparks from the spots her fingers are already making.

Even though it feels that way, they can't stay entwined like that forever, and, quietly, without any hesitation, she removes the last of his clothing. He's a modest man, no one has ever seen him in this state before, but there is nothing in her eyes but quiet love and unmuted desire. He lets it relax him, before his breath catches in his throat as she touches him for the first time.

He can hear himself groan, but the sound is so foreign it doesn't seem like himself. At some point, his brain is cognoscente enough to wrap his fingers around the laces edge of her underwear and tug them down her legs. Now, they are equal again, their breaths slightly out of sync as they realize what the next step will bring as she releases him and slowly rubs circles on his back.

"It wasn't that." She replies steadily, and he finds it difficult to meet her eye. "My planet needed me…more than you wanted me." And there it sits, on his chest like a heavy weight. Now he displaces the tea, wanting to prove to her the error of her statement.

"I would have stayed, had you asked it of me, Satine."

"I couldn't do it, Obi-Wan." There are using each other's names now, and he is aware of how dangerously close together they are, the first time they have been so since they were far younger. "I couldn't ask you to leave everything behind for something so uncertain."

"And I cannot explain to you how badly it hurt that I couldn't stay with you." And they are silent for a long moment, one where he wishes again that he had the thin steam of his tea to hide behind.

She arches her body as he pushes into her, pressing so close to him it seems he can feel her heartbeat pulsing against his own skin. He gasps against her, he's never felt anything like her, wrapped around him like this. He kisses her again, unable to concentrate on anything but the slow motion of his hips against hers and the breathy appreciative moans he's getting in return.

She moves in sync with him, gasping out his name, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing a heel into his back that pulls him farther into the oblivion that her body is becoming. "Worth the wait?" He manages to ask in the hoarsest his voice has ever sounded.

She doesn't have the words to respond, simply putting her hands around his face and pulling him into another kiss as he thrusts deeper, and he knows the answer is yes.

"I understand." She says, and for a moment, he thinks she is going to ask him to leave. He can feel her breath, warming his skin only inches away. It's dangerous. Far too dangerous to be this close. "I felt the same about you."

He knows this. It doesn't make it any easier to hear from her, to hear her pain that so mirrored his own. "I can't tell you, Satine, how it felt." And, not fully conscious of his own action, he begins to close the space between them. "But I can show you."

He could feel it, his body tightening at a pace that evenly matched hers. He waited until her nearly silent scream of his name hit his ears and pulled him into oblivion. They rode their high together, spiraling together in a new apex of thought that he felt he would never quite achieve again.

He stayed connected to her, not wanting to separate so soon, until he worried he was hurting her. Still, he did not go far, and she obliged him, climbing onto his chest, letting their ragged breathing decompress together on her bed sheets. "I love you." She said simply, he head leaned back to see him fully. "I always have."

"I love you, too." And he hopes that his unspoken agreement to the last part is hard. He can't imagine not loving her, and now, with their bond fully consummated, he wonders what they could have been if he had never left her at all.

Her lips meet his, and the next few minutes pass as though in a frenzy. They move quickly form kissing to her pressing him down into the couch cushions to him standing, scooping her into his arms. He breaks them apart, panting slightly above her lips.

"We can do this now, without the obligations we once had." He said quietly, and she never breaks his gaze, only tugs him tighter. "Things will change, but cannot be different."

She knows. He is aware of this. But still, he must be sure of it. "Are you…" But his question is left unanswered for the moment as she tugs his lips down into another kiss and he steps to carry her into her bedroom.