If you want to get lucky open your eyes.

She just stares up at him, wanting to ease what he’s feeling, what she’s sensing, and not quite knowing how. She leans down and kisses him, gently, her hands caressing his skin. “Force, Obi-Wan. Did it sound like I didn’t enjoy myself? Did it feel like it?” Although her words are insistent her voice is gentle.

She rolls them, then, so she’s lying beneath him, her back pressing against the bed. A hand slides to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and she arches up, pressing kisses slowly up the line of his neck. With every brush of her lips against his skin, the occasional flick of her tongue, nip of her teeth, she tries to share what she’d felt with him, as they laid together, through the Force, through their bond. She wants – NEEDS – him to know that lying with him, sharing a bed with him in this manner is beyond what she could have imagined. The speed of their release doesn’t matter. What matters is him. Them. Lying together like this. Being able to lie together like this.