TPF Chapter 11

Ryoke’s idea of being more like Obi-Wan is not working. At least, Enthea can’t imagine Obi-Wan doing this… but she doesn’t have to imagine it. It’s happened. But those are thoughts, and there is no room for thinking in Enthea’s mind as she thrusts feverishly into Ryoke in the cramped bunk aboard their shuttle.

It’s a good thing that Dathomirians have tough skin, because Theelins have pointy fingernails, and Ryoke’s scrape across Enthea’s black and red back. Not in a bad way.

“Hmm,” Enthea grunts, shoving in all the way and swirling her hips desperately to get over the edge. Not that it’s difficult to get over the edge, it’s just so urgent… she goes rigid, eyes shut and back arched. Ryoke hisses and shudders as Enthea pumps out her load, deep inside.

Enthea collapses heavily on top of the Jedi, limp and spent.

“Ohh…” Ryoke moans softly, dragging her nails gently across Enthea’s shoulder blades as her pussy quivers.

Enthea tries to roll off, but she doesn’t have the energy, so she just slides to the side a bit. Ryoke snorts and glances down to see Enthea’s charcoal-colored cock spurt a few more drops onto her leg.

Minutes go by like that in the dim light from the tiny illuminator set over the bed.

Without realizing it, Enthea keeps running her hand up and down Ryoke’s flat belly.

“Sorry,” she says, stopping, but Ryoke’s not paying attention.

“I keep thinking,” she begins, but trails off.

“About what?” Enthea asks.

“The Temple. It’s not a Sith Temple, and I don’t know why Laki would say that it is.” She sighs, her expression distant. “I don’t know it. I guess it just bothers me that we all come from the same place. It makes you wonder how different we are.”

“Didn’t you just explain to me how different the Sith are from us?” Enthea asks playfully.

“I know. I suppose I’m getting nostalgic for something that was never real. If everyone had gotten along, the **** Wars would never have happened.” Ryoke shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. But if the Sith are up to something that has to do with that temple, it may not be as simple as them helping the Separatists or attacking the Jedi. And how does the clairvoyant come into it?”

“You mean Blu?” Enthea asks. Unbidden, she sees the memory of Blu in the bathroom at that bar, her lips wrapped around Enthea’s cock and her sparkling eyes savoring Enthea’s every reaction. Enthea remembers the way that Blu sensed when Enthea was close and stopped sucking, sticking out her tongue and pulling until Enthea shot all over it. Blu had then made a big show of swallowing theatrically, then given the stunned, enchanted Enthea a sticky kiss before leaving.

In the short time before it was revealed that the Jedi Council had seen the video, Enthea must have jerked off to that memory thirty times.

Ryoke smiles and looks at Enthea. “You seem distracted.”

Enthea glances down at their naked bodies, pressed together. “Seems understandable,” she says defensively.

“We’re under the Temple’s spell. It’ll pass as soon as we leave,” Ryoke assures her. That’s nonsense, but Enthea is in agreement. That’s the boundary that they have set on this wild indiscretion. After they leave this planet, it won’t be spoken of again. And certainly not repeated.

There is something about the temple, though. Enthea remembers that ethereal Chiss, striding around so comfortably in the nude. She’d been beautiful, but there hadn’t been anything erotic about her. As though she hadn’t been there at all.

“What’s wrong?” Ryoke asks.

“Nothing.”

The Theelin doesn’t look convinced. She idly trails one fingertip along one of Enthea’s horns. “Something you want to do to me before Master Windu gets here?” she asks, and Enthea laughs. “That is, if you’re…” Ryoke trails off, glancing down.

Enthea is hard and ready to go, her erection flat against her stomach.

“Oh, you are.” Ryoke looks impressed.

Enthea snuggles closer to whisper in her ear, and Ryoke laughs at what she says.

“You are so cute,” Ryoke says, shaking her head. She rolls onto her belly. “Go ahead.”

A little embarrassed, but more turned on, Enthea climbs on top of her, focused on Ryoke’s firm, pert rear end. Before she can do anything, she and Ryoke look up as one.

“Feel that?” Ryoke asks, suddenly serious.

“Cold. What does it mean?” Enthea asks, gazing at the ceiling of the room. The feeling is coming from above.

“It means we better get dressed.”