The Force Between Us
May his force fill me.
Over the next few weeks, I’m sharing a collection of micro-erotica (<300 words). These are stories I’ve started but never finished.
Your mission is simple: heart your favorites. The ones that spark the most interest will grow into standalone stories or entire series.
The theater was damn near deserted, just the glow of the screen casting long shadows and the faint murmur of voices trying not to be overheard. My hand dipped into the popcorn bucket, and that’s when it happened—my fingers brushed his.
Warm. Rough. Lingering like a note held just a second too long. My pulse skipped. He’s like a brother to me. At least, that’s what I’ve told myself a hundred times. I glanced his way, and there it was—that sly, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Instead, I let my fingers slide over his, slow, deliberate. It felt like dipping into a current too strong to fight.
The movie? Noise.
The room? A blur.
It was him—only him—his eyes flicking toward mine. “Hello there,” he said, his voice low enough to make me feel it more than hear it.
I leaned closer, catching his breath's soft, warm brush against my neck. It sent shivers down my spine, every nerve firing. My voice dropped, steady only on the surface. “Careful, Master Obi-Wan,” I whispered, letting the words drip like honey, sweet and wicked.
His lips curved into a smirk. His fingers tightened around mine, his touch deliberate, possessive. “May the force be with us,” he said, his hand caressing my inner thigh.
