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A Trip Down Mammary Lane

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Senator Chuchi obviously wanted something from Obi-Wan. Anakin knew this, because she was rubbing her chest. Obi-Wan, of course, was oblivious as he told the small purple senator that she needed to be the one to negotiate and maintain peace between her people and the Talz. "Oh, please, Master Kenobi," Chuchi pleaded, her hands moving to the zipper of her parka. "You're my only hope!" Deftly, the zipper parted, as did the folds of her top.

Obi-Wan stared at the senator's face. "Please don't do that," he said blandly. "You can put them away, Senator. The answer remains no."

Once Chuchi had poutingly hidden her breasts away from the breathtaking cold (which, Anakin had to admit, was not the only thing that was breathtaking), she walked away, presumably to mull over what (or who) she was supposed to do next.

Anakin stalked up behind Obi-Wan. "You always do that!" he exclaimed in frustration. "Every single time!"

Obi-Wan turned to him, confusion in his expression. "Do what every single time?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Anakin let out a sharp breath. "You know!" he exclaimed. "Every time a woman wants you to do something, she shows you her good bits, and you don't even glance at them! And you don't let ME glance at them either!"

Obi-Wan blinked at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied.

Sighing, Anakin put an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Take a trip with me down memory lane, Master," he said, waggling the fingers of his other hand theatrically.

Obi-Wan swatted his hand down. "Stop that."


They'd been on a shared mission together on Christophsis. It was pre-Ahsoka, all strategies and planning and easy camaraderie. Despite himself, Obi-Wan looked forward to such times.

Falling into the Separatist trap had been unfortunate; on the other hand, Obi-Wan felt a surge of wry amusement at the sight of Asajj Ventress. He'd been held captive by her for weeks on end; she'd been the source of much distress on the battlefield; Anakin hated her with the fire of Tatooine's twin suns. And yet, hers and Obi-Wan's unabashed flirting made run-ins almost inviting. "And here I thought this mission would be unpleasant," Obi-Wan mused. Next to him, Anakin twitched unhappily.

Ventress' gaze was silky. "I've missed you, Obi-Wan," she purred. The assassin shrugged off the bulky cloak that concealed her from recognition, letting it pool on the floor. "C'mon, Kenobi," she murmured, preening. "Let's knock boots."

Anakin started. "Gross!" he exclaimed. "Obi-Wan would never willingly touch YOU," he said scornfully. He glanced to his Master for support. "Right, Obi-Wan?"

But Obi-Wan did not answer, his gaze fixed on Ventress' plump breasts.

Ventress' eyes gleamed. "You like?" she grinned, and suddenly, there they were, well-formed and surprisingly delicate, given the source, nipples dark and hardened.

Anakin made a noise between disgust and outrage. Obi-Wan stared at Ventress' bare chest longingly for several moments; his lightsaber hand twitched, as if mentally calculating how much each would weigh.

"What do you say, Obi-Wan?" Ventress prompted, groping herself a little.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips. "Oh, they're very lovely," he complimented, "But I must decline."

"I'm, uh, available," Anakin interjected quickly, resisting the urge to raise his hand like a Padawan in Galactic Geography class.

Ventress was already tugging her top back in place, however. "They're not for YOU, Skywalker," she glowered, using a wisp of the Force to pick up her discarded cloak. She made a lewd hand gesture at Obi-Wan. Anakin mumbled something vulgar in Huttese, and switched his lightsaber on.


"See, Master?" Anakin affirmed. "You're a cockblocker. Of my cock. It's practically a war crime."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "The offer was for me, not for you," he pointed out. "So if anyone's 'cock' were 'blocked', it would have been mine, which is perfectly within my rights as its keeper."

Anakin frowned. "Fair point. But then we have to take into account that it was kriffing Ventress," he argued.

"Anakin, the day I pass judgment on the creatures you partake in recreational drugs with at the Outlander every Saturday night is the day you get to speak to me about the two pity fucks I happen to come by every year or so," Obi-Wan retorted.

Anakin smirked. "Aw, c'mon, Master, you're better than a pity fuck," he simpered. "I would suck you off just for the taste of it."

"Please, let's just stop talking about my genitalia and what I choose to do with it," Obi-Wan snapped.

"Oh, no," Anakin protested, waggling his finger. "Not yet, Master, I haven't proven my point. Remember those twins?"


They were purple-skinned Twi'leks, representatives from a government asking for Jedi intervention in a minor provincial dispute, and Obi-Wan couldn't help noticing how often they reached up to touch themselves - and each other - over the course of the negotiations. "Isn't there any way we can get you to see our side?" one of them asked, tweaking the nipple of her sister.

Obi-Wan shook his head, rolling his eyes; beside him, Anakin groaned, all too aware of the sexual energy in the room. "I apologize, but my position must remain neutral," Obi-Wan replied, quite politely.

"We could *change* your position," the other sister said, licking her lips. Moving as one, the twins reached back and undid the fastenings of their tops, letting them slip down to their waists.

"You can change MY position!" Anakin exclaimed, pushing past Obi-Wan, nearly salivating. Obi-Wan sighed, resisting the urge to push his hormone-driven former apprentice back to the table.

"We're only authorized to deal with Master Kenobi," the twins said in unison, derision in their eyes. Turning back to Obi-Wan, they blinked. "So?"

"No, thank you," Obi-Wan said, quirking his lips as Anakin stomped off.


"Twins, Master!" Anakin moaned. "Twins! One for each of us! I would have shared!"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "No, you wouldn't have," he replied, and Anakin's shoulders slumped. Obi-Wan was right, of course. Anakin wasn't a "sharing" kind of guy, anyway. But still, it was the principle of the thing!

"Irregardless," Anakin scoffed, "You aren't a team player, Master."

"Oh, yes," Obi-Wan blinked, expression deadpan. "It is a travesty if Anakin Skywalker spends a second of the day not being sexually satisfied."

"Well, YEAH," Anakin agreed.

Obi-Wan made a 'hmmph' sound and became interested in his fingernails.

"I get the feeling you're not taking this seriously, Master," Anakin proclaimed after a moment of silence.

Obi-Wan feigned shock. "Whatever gave you an idea like that?" he said, with not just a smidge of sarcasm.

But Anakin pressed on. "So maybe I AM a little ... friendly," he offered. "But there's a war going on, and sometimes, you have to let yourself take comfort in simple things."

"Oh, like a nice pair of breasts, perhaps?" Obi-Wan teased.

Anakin shrugged, un-offended, but his eyes narrowed anew as he got back to business. "In any case, Master, your transgressions go beyond just being diplomatic to strangers ..."


"Master Kenobi, can you help me with my homework?" Ahsoka chirped, bounding into the sitting room in Obi-Wan and Anakin's shared quarters. Lit only by a lamp in the corner - the raucous noise of Anakin's favorite holovid program was, for once, blissfully silenced - the room was actually quite peaceful.

Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad, taking the opportunity to sip his tea. "Hello there, Padawan," he greeted Anakin's apprentice warmly. "What sort of homework is it, then?"

Needing nothing more for provocation, Ahsoka tugged off her top, revealing perky, orange Togruta boobies. "Anatomy," she replied simply, her smile angelic. She was in the process of straddling her Master's Master (who, to his credit, was doing his best to sputter and look afraid), when Anakin arrived home, making an awful mess by dropping the keg of alcohol he'd been holding.

"What the kriff, Snips!" Anakin yelled, and then turned the full brunt of his anger on Obi-Wan, whose face was being pressed between Ahsoka's breasts and could not answer proper. After a minute or two of observation, Anakin's outrage began to be replaced by a different emotion. "So Snips," he said huskily, stamping at the puddle of beer at his feet ineffectually. "Need me to lend a hand?"

"Oh, Anakin, you only have one of them," Obi-Wan snorted. Peals of Ahsoka's girlish laughter followed Anakin clear down the hallway.


"And what about Aayla, Master?"


Aayla Secura was considered one of the Order's most comely Knights (after, Anakin always promised himself, a certain Hero With No Fear, of course). For her part, Aayla seemed in turns to be completely oblivious to the attention her physique garnered, and more than happy to exploit said attention to get what she wanted. And right now, she wanted something from Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Please, Obi-Wan?" she said, her heady accent sending warm tingles down Anakin's spine. "I know it's short notice, but Quin isn't here, and..."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan replied. "But you know how I feel about political functions. I'd rather make love to a gundark." He didn't sound very apologetic about the fact either, Anakin noted.

"Well, what about something a little better than a gundark?" Aayla suggested, running a hand down her front. "Come on, Obi-Wan, it's an open bar." She slipped her tunic off, revealing dusky blue breasts - the same ones that had spawned many late-night masturbation sessions among many, many members of the Order. And here Obi-Wan was, with the full picture, and all he was doing was standing there with his arms crossed and a frown on his face!

"I could go with you," Anakin offered. After all, Padme might be there, which meant a distinct possibility of a Chosen One sandwich at the end of the night, especially if there really was an open bar.

Aayla eyed him. "Sorry, Anakin," she replied. "But the last time you went to one of these things, the Council was apologizing to the Senate for weeks." She rubbed her nipples and turned back to Obi-Wan. "Are you sure I can't convince you?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Quite sure, Aayla. But thank you."


Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "You are misconstruing the facts, Anakin," he admonished. "As usual."

"No I'm not!" Anakin exclaimed. "She had her boobies right in your face - she offered you free booze, even, and you still said no!"

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. "Of course I said no," he said. "I find politicians to be incredibly distasteful, and nothing Aayla Secura has to offer can change that."

"You didn't seem to find *Padme* very distasteful!" Anakin shot back in frustration. "Remember *that*, Master?"


Padme's breasts were-


"Anakin, honestly, it was such a long time ago. I don't know why you're insisting on-"

"No, Master, no. You're going to let me tell the story."


Padme's breasts were creamy and feminine, and soft to the touch, as Anakin well knew. So it was to his dismay that he found himself staring at them in Obi-Wan's hands.

His Master, at the very least, looked chagrined. "Anakin," he said quietly. He did not pull away too quickly - not quickly enough for Anakin's tastes, at least - but eventually let go of the senator so that she could cover herself properly.

"Ani," said senator started, obviously flummoxed. "I, ... didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, that much is kriffing obvious," Anakin frowned, his expression stormy. Obi-Wan and Padme exchanged glances, which made him even angrier - how dare they look at one another like he was a petulant child after what he'd caught them ... well. "I thought we were ... special friends," he appealed to his secret wife, the cadence whinier than he was going for (and probably proving their point).

Padme looked uncomfortable. Obi-Wan crossed his arms, his expression indefinable. "I-" Padme began, appearing to choose her words carefully. Finally, she managed: "Technically, Ani, if you want to split hairs, ... Obi-Wan and I have been 'special friends' for longer than you and I have."

"What!" Anakin shrieked. He looked wildly at Obi-Wan, who would not meet his gaze, and then at Padme, who stared back boldly.

Eventually, Obi-Wan shrugged. "It's true, Anakin. Senator Amidala and I ... comforted each other after the political turmoil on Naboo. She was ... of great assistance while I was so vulnerable after Qui-Gon's death."

"And now, Naboo needs help again," Padme interjected.

Anakin gaped. "So why didn't you just contact me?" he ground out.

Padme waved her hand. "You're so busy with your new Padawan," she said airily. "Besides," she continued, "Master Kenobi IS the Negotiator."

"He's negotiating with your Naboobies," Anakin grumbled. At this, Padme and Obi-Wan both shot him withering stares. "Okay, fine, I'm going," he growled, tugging open Padme's front door. "See you at home, Master."

The walls shook as the door slammed shut anew. "Naboobies," Obi-Wan repeated, shaking his head. Padme giggled, and then shrugged off her shirt again.


"That was an isolated incident, Anakin, and you know it!"

"It's Padme, Master. You know I'm ... that I REALLY like Padme!"

"As she told you, Anakin, we are simply very old friends."

"I've been her friend for just as long!"

"You were nine, Anakin!" Obi-Wan ran a hand exaperatedly through his hair. "It was a completely different set of circumstances, there!"

"No, Master. No. It was merely continued proof that you're a cockblocker."


"You're a cockblocker, Master, and a womp-fink, and a bad friend, and, and ... and a bad Master."

Obi-Wan made a noise in the back of his throat. "I suppose," he said slowly, you are entitled to your opinion."

"Thank you," Anakin said defiantly.

"I mean," Obi-Wan continued, "It's not as if I didn't train the boy who grew up to be the hero of the Republic."

"Well ..."

"The Chosen One, the Jedi's golden boy, the Hero with No Fear ..."

Anakin grinned. "I guess you did an all right job with me." Obi-Wan smiled back at him. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and when Anakin looked away and then looked back, he was in an entirely different frame of mind. "So Master, what are you doing toni-"

But his on-the-fly attempt at Master-apprentice nookie was cut short by the beeping of Obi-Wan's comlink. "You changed the ringtone?" Anakin asked absently as Obi-Wan fished the tiny device out of his tunic.

"Oh, it's a special tone for Senator Organa," the older man noted. "Hello? Bail? How are you?" he said happily, attention diverted from his former Padawan's latest hissy fit.

"You have a 'special tone' for Senator Organa? You won't even let me sit in 'your' arm chair, but Bail kriffing Organa gets his own ringtone?" Anakin growled in disbelief. Obi-Wan turned away pointedly, now fully engrossed in the conversation by comlink - probably about watching grass grow, Anakin thought contemptuously. He considered his Obi-Wan-less options for the evening: the Chancellor was off-world, and Anakin always felt vaguely uncomfortable meeting with him after-hours, anyways. Padme was on the rag, and very firm about keeping anything fun from happening in or around the vicinity of her pants for the next four or five days; Ahsoka was "studying", only she was actually a decent student, so Anakin suspected that she was actually telling the truth about that.

Suddenly, he had an idea that didn't involve a bottle of lotion and his hand (robotic or otherwise). "Hey, Master, just keep talking to Senator Organa if you want me to borrow your speeder for the night." Obi-Wan paid him no mind. "Okay," Anakin grinned, swiping his Master's keys and hurrying out the door. "See you later!"

It was time to be "friendly", he decided.