Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Zygerrian Triumvate; the Rescues of Obi-Wan Kenobi	By : Jade_Max Category: +S through Z > Star Wars: The Clone Wars Views: 6748 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Star Wars is George's sandbox, I'm simply destroying the sandcastles and make no money off of this

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author's Note: None of these Rescues are related; they're all 'stand alone' sequences. Enjoy.

Rescue #2
The slave auction had changed everything.
Anakin and Rex had been captured, Ahsoka leaping in before she’d thought to try and rescue them before the trio had succumbed to the stunning power of the whips, Obi-Wan – having been gifted to the Queen by Ahsoka in a rash and daring move that had more than paid off after one of her own had jumped to her death during their negotiation – had tried to subdue to the Queen only to have been shocked into submission by the collar she’d placed around his neck upon his change in owner.
She’d been most assured he wouldn’t need it if he went a week without the need of it.
As it was, as he placed his lightsaber to her neck and lifted one hand to destroy the collar, it had been activated, knocking him out and, as his world quickly darkened, he could see the disappointed avarice on the Queen’s face – and the anticipation.
Whatever came next was not going to be good.
+++++++++++
When Obi-Wan woke it was to find himself laid out on the Queen’s bed with her strange flying bird-like creatures flitting about him.
His head was aching, his mouth dry and the bird-things were suddenly making a racket, chirping and squeaking unlike they had before. As he lifted one hand to his head, he noticed that the heavy collar that had been around his neck was gone, the weight of the restraint no longer heavy on his collarbone, even as the golden circle with attached chain dug slightly into his skin.
Where-?
“You and your friends destroyed my auction and frightened my customers,” the conversational tone came from across the room and Obi-Wan pushed up on one elbow to see the Queen standing on a balcony-like protrusion on the far side of the room; he was flat out on a luxurious and curtained four poster bed. “Count Dooku and half my kingdom are demanding your deaths. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t comply, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."
He flashed her a half smile. “Just one?”
“Jedi are not welcome on my world, as you very well know,” she told him crossly. “You Jedi are the reason we had to rebuild; the reason our Empire is only now recovering!”
“While I am aware of the history between the Order and your people, your majesty,” Obi-Wan told her with a placating smile as he pushed to a sitting position, suddenly wishing for his robes; the small, golden shorts were hardly the thing to be having this discussion in. But there was no help for it and clothes certainly didn't make the man, just the image. “I am less than accepting of taking the blame for actions that were, and are, not mine.”
She laughed. “Ah, the famous Negotiator appears. You are hardly as I had pictured you, Obi-Wan; less distinguished.”
"As was intended I assure you," He inclined his head. “I shall take that as a compliment. If you’ll forgive me for my state of dress, your highness, we can move straight into the negotiation for the release of my companions and the Togrutans from Kiros.”
She stared at him and then threw back her head with a laugh. Shaking her head, she cocked her hand on one hip and let her gaze trail once again from the tips of his toes and upwards. No doubt assessing him with the knowledge of who and why he now was compared to her pervious examination. “You are more than I had been led to believe – and less. It is gratifying to know our stun collars work even on Jedi.”
“Yet you’ve removed mine.”
“I have nothing to fear from you with your friends in my custody,” she told him frankly, a feral, teasing smile on her lips, “their treatment will depend entirely on your good behavior.”
“I see,” and he did. Power met power and his earlier assessment had been correct. “Then it would not be in their best interest to deny an association, now would it?”
“Anakin Skywalker's attempt to resist being subdued was a credit to your order, however futile the effort. He and the clone will not receive special treatment if, in fact, you were to deny the relationship."
A knock at the door interrupted their discussion, though the Queen didn’t lift her eyes from his. “Enter.”
“I beg your pardon, your magnificence,” one of her bodyguards offered with an inclination of his head. “There is a woman here to see you requesting an audience."
"Send her away," she snapped. "I am busy."
The guard nodded and withdrew, closing the door as they did.
“Busy, your highness? Surely not with a lowly slave.”
“Ah, but you are more than just a slave, Obi-Wan; you are also a Jedi. A man of negotiation. Tell me,” she cocked her head, her eyes narrowing on him with an assessing look, “how far are you willing to go, what are you willing to offer me in exchange for your freedom?”
“Just mine?”
“That will depend on you,” she countered.
"Might I inquire what has happened to Ahsoka? The Togruta who was posing as my slaver?"
"Ah, the female," she shook her head with a tsking noise. "Minister Atai has taken a shine to her and, should you prove uncooperative, I have promised him the female as recompense."
"I do hate to be uncooperative. What exactly did you have in mind, your highness?"
“With half my kingdom believing I should execute you and your friends? For all it is a hasty call, it is not unappealing."
“Well now,” Obi-Wan stayed where he was and examined his free hand, flexing the fingers before casting her a look under his lashes. “Where’s the fun in that? Perhaps we should discuss it?”
"Are we not already?"
"As much as I am enjoying our discourse, your majesty, I should like to know the terms of my imprisonment before we progress further."
"You are hardly a prisoner," with a laugh, she shook her head but didn't move from the balcony, her eyes having grown wary. "I believe a Jedi as noble as yourself would make an excellent bodyguard. The threat to your friends is more than adequate to guarantee your good behavior."
"Mine perhaps, but hardly Anakin's."
"What do you mean?"
"You may have noticed his resistance to your stunning techniques," Obi-Wan adjusted his position on the bed, noting the way her gaze flicked to the muscled length of his legs as they shifted. "As the son of a former slave, he will be a most uncooperative captive."
"Then he will be shown that others pay for his outbursts, not himself."
"Much as I respect Anakin for how far he's come, it shames me to admit that he has often times, in the past, neglected to look after those he feels no connection for. Punishing another in his place will only serve to anger him. He.. has never dealt well with injustice."
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying that, if you wish to continue your practices of subjugating those you feel are weaker than you, placing Anakin in the center of a training facility designed to break the spirit is counter productive to your goals."
"You would say that."
"Consider it a simple caution; a gesture of good faith to open negotiations."
“You are hardly bargaining from a position of strength, Obi-Wan,” amusement colored her tone this time.
“Neither are you, your highness,” he offered her a half smile. “I should like to think I could give you more than strength.”
There was innuendo and intent in his words, a suggestion that had been lacking before but spoke of dark, sensual promise. Her eyes widened fractionally, a momentary loss of composure as she placed both hands on the balustrade behind her and leaned back, regarding him speculatively. “More? In what way?”
Obi-Wan looked pointedly at the grip of her claws on the stone behind her. "A more comfortable seat for starters," he motioned to the end of the bed, satisfied when her eyes followed the shifting muscles in his chest. "Please; join me."
"I have heard of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she countered. "The Negotiator is well known to my people and even Count Dooku has cautioned me against speaking with you."
"A compliment surely; how is the good Count?"
"Determined you should die."
He chuckled at her dry tone. "It is reassuring, your highness, to know that some things have not changed. Please," he offered her a charming, disarming smile as he injected a Force suggestion into the emotion behind his voice, "if you continue to stand, I feel manners will force me to join you and I find I am most comfortable."
She regarded him for a long moment before finally, slowly, her fingers uncurled from the balustrade and she advanced on him. "I want none of your Force tricks, Jedi."
"Call me Obi-Wan," he offered pleasantly, "I much prefer to be known for myself than my station."
Something in his words struck a chord within her for she laughed, a kind of cackle-purr noise of true delight that he hadn't heard before. It was probably the most honest showcase of emotion he'd yet seen from her; a promising sign.
"Here, in this room while we are alone, you may call me Miraj; I know something of being seen for your station." They shared a look and he stretched out his hand towards her in invitation as she neared the bed. Miraj accepted the outstretched digits and settled onto the end of the mattress, adjusting her skirt. She was well within his reach, but didn't touch him aside from the hand in his. "Should anyone enter and you use my name, I will not hesitate to have you whipped."
"Or do so yourself?" he looked pointedly to the handle on her hip.
"Yes."
"I see." He considered her for a moment, squeezed her fingers and then, with an obvious show of reluctance that made it look as if he were trying to hide it, relinquished his grip. "Have you ever had a slave who enjoyed the experience?"
"They're swiftly dealt with; somehow, you do not strike me as the masochistic type."
"Not normally no," he agreed, "however, I have been known to take quite a beating without complaint."
"Is that a challenge, Obi-Wan?"
"Only if you view it as such... Miraj."
She shivered, visibly, with the way he said her name and Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. Her eyes had darkened, the tufts of fur around her ears rippling down along the edges of her headpiece. "And if I do?"
"Then I suspect our negotiations will take on a flavor I've yet to experience from your people." Pushing up on his elbow, Obi-Wan drew one leg up and dangled the other forearm across his knee. Her gaze dropped momentarily to trace down his chest and then back. He quirked an eyebrow in challenge as her gaze found his again. "Shall we try it and see?"
With a laugh, she shook her head. "You are not what I expected from your reputation."
He inclined his head in acceptance of the flattery and responded in kind. "You, my dear, are every inch the monarch you should be... confidence in a female is so very appealing."
"Flattery, Obi-Wan?" her tone was coy, almost contemptuous. "I am far too familiar with that tactic."
"Flattery though it may be, it is the truth none-the-less. May I?" He motioned to his neck and then hers, indicating the heavy collar around her throat and shoulders
"Whatever for?"
"To put you at ease, my dear; why else?"
She considered him for a moment."Very well; remove it."
Shifting, he stretched out and ran his fingers down the metallic design and over, skating his finger tips across her fur where it intersected with the decoration and finding the clasp. With a faint click the ornamentation parted and slid, his hand dropping to catch it before placing it aside. Without breaking eye contact, he paused, gauging her reaction, and then lifted his hand once more.
Miraj held perfectly still, poised for flight, as his fingertips brushed across her fur once more. The collar and decoration gone, her dress was low cut, off the shoulder and daring; yet his hand stayed on her neck, sliding into her fur to caress a beat at the base of her throat where he could see her pulse pounding. His thumb pressed into the heartbeat as his hand curled around the juncture to the back of her neck, his fingertips digging into a bundle of sensitive nerves he knew existed at the base of her skull.
Miraj's head tilted back slightly, her eyes partially closing as she gave a soft sigh of approval. "Mmm, perhaps there is something we can discuss after all, Obi-Wan."
"My expertise is at your disposal, my lady."
"For the right price," she countered, her gaze shrewd despite being partly hazed by sensual anticipation.
"Of course," his fingers began to kneed. "Every negotiation has its point of compromise."
"As do most individuals," she shifted her head, tilting it to apply the pressure from his fingertips slightly to the left. "What is your point of compromise, Negotiator?"
"Obi-Wan," he corrected softly, shifting closer, his upraised knee now nearly touching her upper arm. "You know my price, Miraj; the freedom of the Togrutan people."
"And your friends?"
His lips curved. "Should you find the need to include them in our bargain, yes."
Her eyes opened and his fingers stilled as she looked at him thoughtfully; surprised. "You would leave them to their fate? To be enslaved and sold to the highest bidder?"
"They, unlike the Togrutan people, are capable to fending for themselves."
"You surprise me, Obi-Wan," she admitted. "You have stated your terms; what do you propose as fair trade?"
"Access to the skills and abilities countless negotiations have wrought; to all of my considerable expertise - for a time."
"And this length of time would be?"
"For however long it takes for you to benefit fully from those experiences, my dear," he lifted his hand from her throat, raking his nails across it as he started to withdraw. "Unless you had something else in mind?"
A growl rumbled low in her throat. "I accept. Begin."
Leaning forward, Obi-Wan slid his hand back around her head, digging his finger tips in and pulled her sharply forward. Predators by nature, Zygerrians appreciated strength and he wasn't about to falter at this juncture. Using his considerable knowledge of the physiology files he'd studied about Zygerrians, he didn't pull Miraj in for a kiss, but forced her head backwards to bare her throat and lay her out on the bed beside him.
She fought him, as expected, and he twisted, pinning her beneath him. Chest to chest, one of her legs caught between his, she struggled to break his hold. Knowing it was a part of the dominance of the act for Zygerrians, he held fast, catching her hands in his and deliberately pinning them far out and to the side. Her hips surged upwards, against his, and he caught both her legs between his, using his greater weight to pin her completely.
"Release me!"
Her demanded was ignored as he lowered his head to the skin on her upper chest and the flesh he'd barred. His lips touched her skin, his teeth digging into the swell of firm flesh barely covered by her dress, and she let out a hiss-growl. The aggressive move was a mark of possession; of a potential mate staking his claim by biting the very core of her life.
She stiffened beneath him before going slack, a sign of acceptance for the bold advance, though he could still feel the tension in her frame that had little to do with his current superior position and everything to do with the way he could feel her responding. Even without the Force he'd have felt it.
"A mark to bind," he recited the ritual words that came with such a gesture and heard her breath catch, nuzzling the curve of her breast where it disappeared into her dress before tasting her with the tip of his tongue, "to mark you as mine until it fades."
She made to pull back, but Obi-Wan looked up sharply; following the ritualistic mating practices of her people, and made eye contact, his fingers digging into the tendons of her wrists in warning. She hadn't repeated his words; hadn't affirmed the vow.
"Until the mark fades."
Her husky repetition was heavily accented, nearly incomprehensible, and he could feel the power of that vow echo and shimmer between them, gaze to gaze, an understanding and intent volleyed back and forth; Miraj seeming to realize just what she'd gotten herself into. What had started as a challenge was being used as a lesson.
She'd underestimated him; he read it in her expression but didn't mention it.
Bending his head once again to her chest, he nuzzled the indent of her cleavage, held so lovingly together by the tight material of her dress, and then hooked his teeth and pulled downwards, dragging the fabric down with effort. It stretched with difficulty and Miraj hissed, her back arching against the unintentional caress of the fabric, easing its passage. Obi-Wan release the neck of the dress as it passed beneath her bosom, using the fabric to cup and lift her breasts, to present to his mouth like a feast.
The sight, the sound the feel of her was enough to make him harden sharply, painfully within the confines of his tight golden shorts. Forcing himself to ignore his own physical desires and use the pain as a focus point, he took her in at a grasp. Her nipples were dark and erect; a blatant sign of arousal in any human – except she wasn’t human.
Bypassing the next logical step for any human to take, he used the angle to bend, placing his lips against the pulse his thumb had found earlier at the base of her neck, and deliberately rubbed his chest against hers. She resisted, making a soft sound of protest, but Obi-Wan nudged her chin upwards and over to allow himself greater access.
As he did, he drew her arms in and above her head, transferring both of her wrists to one hand and keeping her pinned.
With his free hand, he swept the circlet from her head and ears, tossing it towards the head of the bed, before sliding his hand once again into the soft fur that covered her head. His fingers dug into the bundle of nerves at the base of her skull, making her head tilt back in reaction. Keeping his touch firm, he slid it upwards until he brushed the shell of her ears, one with his thumb, the other with the tips of his fingers.
She shuddered beneath him at the gentle touch, pressing back into his hand, the motion rubbing her chest once again along his. The points of her hard nipples burned like laser bolts as they were dragged down and then up and Obi-Wan growled against her neck, nipping the juncture of her neck and shoulder; the column of her throat; the line of her jaw. Pressing his hand against the back of her head, his fingers gently, in wicked contrast to his masterful grasp, caressed the base of her ears.
“Obi-Wan!”
She gasped his name as his lips followed the slashing curve of her jawbone to the base of one ear, biting the lobe with just enough pressure to draw a started moan.
Her hands clenched and unclenched where he held them prisoner, feeling the tendons in her wrists flex. The ornaments on her forearms dug into his skin but he ignored the distraction, knowing she wished to touch him and feeling the excitement it generated within her that she couldn’t. That she was denied the pleasure.
Obi-Wan was fairly certain few denied her and lived; even fewer denied her in this forum.
He could feel her arousal, her desire; her frustration. He could feel the way she fought against the unnatural sensation of submission, the blatant predatory instincts that drove her people urging her to fight, to take control; to make him submit to her.
His refusal to let her, his insistence that they do things his way, that she cave to his demands and be quiescent, to follow his lead was driving her to new levels of frustration; frustration and arousal. Not used to being denied, to being out of control, her responses were natural, unfeigned; as if by being denied the necessity to control the encounter, she was free to respond as her body dictated.
Her hips lifted against his as he touched his tongue to the inner shell of her ear, drawing another gasp.
Releasing her head, he reached down between them, he caught the material of her skirt, and, making a fist, he clenched and relaxed his fingers, pulling the fabric upwards as his lips and teeth worked on her delicate, responsive flesh. Skin was barred to him as her skirt bunched between them, the thigh beneath his fingers covered in an even, downy fur that was soft to the touch.
His fingers slid over her muscled flank, feeling the differences between touching her and a human female; the way her muscles bunched and flexed, rippling with hidden power.
“Miraj,” he murmured her name as his fingers reached her hip, cupping it with deliberate force, his breath feathering across her fur and tickling the nerve centers he knew were hidden within her incredibly sensitive ears. “How far will you go for your people?”
“How far,” she gasped back, “would you go for yours?”
Lifting his head to meet her gaze, he noted the challenge within the depths of hers, augmented by lust, giving her a slightly fevered look. He cupped her then, sliding his hand across her trim stomach and down into the silken fur at the juncture of her thighs. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Her back arched off the bed as he touched her intimately, sliding his fingers along the unseen lips of her sex, coating them with the proof of her excitement before sliding one and then a second within the tight confines of her core. She was ready; more than ready.
Deliberately, he shifted, sliding her skirt aside before lifting his legs free of hers and settled the length of his erection against her core, unbearably painful in the tight gold shorts. The heat of her pulsating against him was a welcome relief as much as it was a torture.
Zygerrians were built as humans for copulation with one exception; they mated, almost exclusively, on all fours with the male mounting the female from behind. Humans, not built as Zygerrian or other alien males, were more resilient and he wasn’t disappointed by the flash of anticipation in her eyes. She tilted her hips tugging at her wrists, but Obi-Wan refused to let her go.
Keeping her hands pinned above her head, he used his only free hand to divest himself from his shorts, along with a hint of Force control to expedite the process. He let out a hiss as the shorts slid free, Miraj arching her back away from him and lifting her hips, the velvety softness of her alien fur caressing his skin with intent bordering on supplication.
“Obi-Wan.”
“Beg me.”
She jerked. “I do not beg.”
Sliding the length of his arousal along the outside of her sex, he held himself away. “Then bargain,” he countered. “Offer me something more.”
“No lover is worth- oh!”
Her head fell back as he slid his thumb and forefinger into her sex and curled them, pressing against two areas on her body simultaneously; ones her other lovers had never touched together. His certainty of that fact made him do it again, flexing his fingers as she dug her nails into the edge of his fingers deep enough to draw blood, her sharp inhalation feeling like victory. He stilled his touch, waiting until her glazed gaze came back to his. “No?”
“No- oooah!” Her cry was choked as her flexed his fingers. “N-name your terms,” she amended.
“Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex,” he named each one with a slight twist of his hand, making her his, her hips bucking into the motion but not finding purchase, “are to go free with the Togrutan colonists.”
“No pleasure is worth Two Jedi and - no!”
He made to remove his hand and her legs moved, clamping around his waist like a vice and trapping his hand between them, her hips pressing it firmly against his length and her core, preventing further intimate contact. Unintentionally, he was certain. “No what, Miraj?”
“Finish what you’ve started,” she demanded, her eyes spitting raw flame, “or I will keep the colonists!”
“I never bargain with a woman over favors, my dear,” he chided with a shake of his head. “I, however, don’t see the problem with this trade. You wish release; I want them released. It’s a simple trade.”
“I-“ her neck arched off the bed, unable to speak as he deliberately moved his hand.
“Give and take,” he added, bending his head downwards, nipping her exposed neck with a deliberate motion, just below her ear as she trembled beneath him. “Is that not the foundation of negotiation?”
“Their r-release for mine.” She laughed, the sound catching on a moan before her gaze sharpened. “But not yours.”
“No,” he agreed, keeping his tone low and deliberately sultry, “this is not about me.”
Her body jerked as he used the Force to enhance his strength, breaking her grip on his hips and, with a bare shift of his body, aligned his body to hers. Miraj let out a cry as he joined their bodies together. Still pinned beneath him, her whole body writhed with his penetration, her heels digging into the mattress, her wrists straining against his hold as her breasts flattened against his chest.
Pulling his hand free from between them, he reached up to grasp both of hers as his hips moved, withdrawing from her body before spearing her with a hard thrust. Dragging her arms down, he used them as leverage, drawing her body towards his as he leaned back. Miraj let out a gasp-yowl as he pulled her with him. Her legs sprawled outwards on either side, her body bowing as he pulled her hands back towards the mattress behind her.
It presented her chest to his lips and, with a groan, he gave into the urge that had been gnawing at him since he’d pulled her dress down. Fastening his lips over one hard peak, he gave a suckle, stroking it with his tongue, enjoying the feel of the straining tip – and then bit down.
It was just enough force that Miraj convulsed, her whole body rocketing off his lap to slam back down with a keen unlike anything he’d ever heard before, her inner muscles tightening about his with enough force he gasped, only barely holding on to his control.
His grip on her tightened to bruising force, as her body bowed further into an impossibly flexible arch.
For long moments, they remained locked intimately before her muscles slackened and she practically sagged in his grip. Obi-Wan eased her back to the bed, releasing her wrists and bracing himself on his forearms above her, his chest barely brushing hers, as she caught her breath.
Finally, after long moments, she was once again in control of herself and Miraj reached up to trace the lines of his face with the pads of her fingers. The barest hint of a frown crossed her features and her words were unexpected. "No slave has ever bitten me before."
Obi-Wan's smile was slow, sensuous and full of devilish promise. "Then perhaps it was passed due.” He flexed his hips, still sheltered deeply within her body and ready to continue. “I do believe our negotiations are not yet complete."
Dropping her hand, she placed it over the bruise he'd left on her chest; an indentation of perfect teeth marks that had yet to disappear. Her smile, when she spoke, was feral. "Until the mark fades."
"And our agreement?"
She laughed, the cackle-purr of true delight. "You may have earned the freedom of the Togrutan people, your fellow Jedi and the clone, Obi-Wan, but be warned; I will not be so easily won over to release you."
“Every boon has its price, majesty,” he returned confidently, “we shall simply have to find mine.”
And, eventually, after many long intensive negotiations, Obi-Wan did.
fin
[end rescue 2]
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Zygerrian Triumvate; the Rescues of Obi-Wan Kenobi