1.
They had been on Abatton for three days when it happened to Obi-Wan for the first time.
It was the week of Anakin’s nineteenth birthday, and he had been insufferable about it for most of the mission. It was similar to when he’d first discovered that he was taller than Obi-Wan, but more annoying, if only because it happened every year. Anakin disliked being small, young, or otherwise inferior, and so growing was always cause for celebration to him.
Obi-Wan had made the mistake earlier in the day of chastising him as ‘his very young apprentice’ after he had made a very stupid blunder during a greeting ceremony, but had immediately cut his lecture short. Anakin, as a general rule, had extremely selective hearing, and he also never let anything go, and Obi-Wan knew that he’d lost him as soon as he mentioned his age.
No matter that Anakin knew that his speech patterns wouldn’t switch off immediately after a decade of habit, he still found a great deal of satisfaction in mildly antagonizing Obi-Wan. Their bickering was a familiar release valve for tension between them, Anakin always seeking more recognition and responsibility, and Obi-Wan always trying to reign in his arrogance and impatience.
Anakin didn’t always listen, especially when he was feeling slighted, but he also hadn’t repeated the mistake of smiling and showing his teeth to the clan leaders, so maybe he had actually taken something from Obi-Wan’s correction before turning slightly peevish. They did, in the end, work well together, and they had resolved the largest conflicts on the planet around water usage rights more quickly than anticipated. They had been commended by the Council for their teamwork, and were were scheduled to leave the next day to join a mission elsewhere, but they had the night off, for once.
It was pleasant to explore a place without the burden of duty looming over them, and Anakin seemed to be in a much better mood. They were wandering around one of the commercial quarters during the early evening, enjoying the way the capital city lit up at night. It came alive around them as the sun set, a diverse mix of species coming out into the hectic, neon maze of streets.
Obi-Wan came around a corner and coughed, stopping still, and Anakin ran into his back. It was so smoky with the scent of meat being grilled in food carts, and loud with excited voices bubbling on top of the pulsing bass emanating from clubs inside the buildings. He felt slightly overwhelmed by the chaos of it all, which was saying something about the magnitude of that chaos, but Anakin was almost glowing with excitement.
He took the lead with a grin, and Obi-Wan stared at him almost wistfully, intrigued as always by his mess of contradictions. He was so difficult to predict that it was almost impossible for most people to guess how he would react to things. Obi-Wan knew him better than anyone else, but he occasionally remained an enigma even to him.
At least it was never boring trying to guess the mood Anakin would be in, and how it would impact his attitude toward everything around him. Sometimes he was almost painfully awkward and shy, quiet and wary, and other times he was blithe and brash, excited and outgoing. Tonight seemed to be the latter.
He darted away from Obi-Wan’s side with a quiet exclamation of triumph, barely audible over the crowd. Obi-Wan lost track of him for a moment before he returned, eyes glittering with excitement, holding up a stick of bright red crystalline candy like a conquering hero. He grinned and popped it in his mouth, and his speech was muffled around the stick. “I didn’t get you one because I know they’re too sweet for you, old man.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said dryly, his stomach twisting with annoyance. “I do appreciate your concern.”
Anakin laughed happily, and looked around for a trash receptacle for the wrapper, sucking on the candy to keep it in his mouth without holding it with a hand. It was beginning to turn his lips red and sticky, and he pulled it free with a wet sounding pop, holding it up as if it were a gift from the gods. “I love this flavor so much! You can’t find it within 200 miles of the Temple on Coruscant, Master. Believe me, I’ve looked!”
Obi-Wan made a noise that could generously be described as mild sympathy, and watched with a sinking feeling as Anakin licked the stick twice before swallowing it again, taking it deep into his mouth and sucking on it with a pleased little hum, his eyes sliding closed. The way that his lips looked while wrapped around the stick caught and held Obi-Wan’s attention like he’d been stuck in a tractor beam.
That was…
Those were…
Obi-Wan felt his cock throb and he stopped breathing, his brain jammed and bent out of shape by the contradicting input of that’s Anakin and fuck, those lips would look incredible wrapped around a cock.
“It’s so good!” Anakin hummed again happily, sucking the candy down with obvious and oblivious pleasure, his eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. He was so beautiful, tall and lean, angular and strong, his golden skin so dewy and supple, his mouth so red and wet.
Obi-Wan blinked and turned away, his brain feeling like it had cracked in half. He’d obviously noticed that Anakin had grown up into a handsome young man, but he’d always been Anakin, which was a category of person that he’d never felt physical attraction to whatsoever. Anakin had always been chewing on things and sucking on them, but all Obi-Wan ever thought before was how desperately unhygienic it was.
Here, on the streets of this random planet, in the glow of the neon lights, if it hadn’t been for the Padawan braid resting against his long, tanned neck, Anakin would’ve looked like a stranger, the kind of person that Obi-Wan would desperately love to chat up in a bar and try to fuck—exactly his type, so tall and pretty, with fair hair, clever eyes, and generous, pouting lips.
Obi-Wan realized with deep annoyance that his gaze was stuck on Anakin’s mouth again, caught and held by the red, sticky candy that was making his full lips so bright and noticeable. His pink tongue flicked out, licking the sugar from his lips, and Obi-Wan felt arousal spike through him. Sith hells.
He took a deep breath, staring fixedly at a flashing advertisement on the far wall, and tried to regain his sense of balance. This was merely an extremely unfortunate physiological reaction to a new and unexpected stimulus, a reaction that Obi-Wan could and would have to manage. He was well accustomed to processing anger, fear, and even desire. Just breathe through it, Kenobi. Let it go.
One thing was certain, and that was the fact that Anakin was and would always be off limits; even after he’d been Knighted, he’d still be untouchable in that way. He wouldn’t want to do anything with Obi-Wan anyway, but that was beside the point. It was simply not done, not even discussed as an option or a possibility. He would teach Anakin for a few more years, and then let him loose on the galaxy.
“Oh stars,” Anakin breathed, darting away and coming back with another stick of candy, this one a cluster of pearlescent purple crystals that he licked experimentally before almost crowing with satisfaction and popping it all in his mouth, his words garbled. “They have so many good flavors here, Master!”
“Good,” Obi-Wan said tightly, looking away. “I’m so very glad to hear it, Padawan.”
2.
“Master!” Anakin said, scandalized.
Obi-Wan smiled sideways at him with a glint in his eye, and Anakin felt strangely warm. It had been very rare for him to get that look from Obi-Wan in the past; it was so different from the warm, occasionally long-suffering expression, or the cool, reproachful one, the faces that he’d worn frequently as his teacher. He was looking at Anakin now like he was an old friend instead, and it felt strange and new.
The recently erupted Clone Wars were almost invisible on the streets of Coruscant. The horrors that Anakin had already seen in the Mid and Outer Rim were hypothetical and abstract to most citizens in the Core, a HoloNet event only. It was so very surreal to leave the chaos of the battlefield and return to civilization, just to see how little civilization cared about the war being fought in its honor.
Anakin looked sourly around at the cheerful citizens, and wondered how they slept at night. He hadn’t slept well himself, returning to Coruscant when Padmé was away felt almost pointless, but at least Obi-Wan was here, if he couldn’t see his angel, he still had his old Master for company.
“The games were rigged anyway.” Obi-Wan’s joking voice snapped Anakin’s attention back to the present. “Couldn’t you feel it in the Force?”
“Of course, that was the point,” Anakin said, and cuddled the large stuffed tooka to his chest, a happy grin splitting his face at the memory of Obi-Wan’s frivolous and possibly unethical use of the Force to win the game, knocking down all the weighted bottles and winning Anakin the largest plush animal, just because Anakin said that he couldn’t do it.
He couldn’t believe Obi-Wan actually cheated. He really wasn’t his Master anymore, wasn't always trying to set a good example, and he’d changed, in the best way possible.
It had been several months since they’d last seen each other in person, since Anakin’s Knighting and first assignment alone as a General. The time had felt so long, and also everything had passed by so uncontrollably, overwhelmingly fast. It was such a relief to be talking to Obi-Wan in person again rather than watching a flickering blue hologram with a familiar voice.
“It’s simple, fair reciprocity, Anakin, if they cheat, so can I,” Obi-Wan said with lofty tones, lifting an eyebrow when Anakin scoffed at just how far that statement was from his usual system of morals. He pushed Obi-Wan on the arm, just because he could.
“That’s a new lesson, Master. I’ll be sure to remember it.”
Obi-Wan snorted, losing his superior air. “That would be the first!”
Anakin pouted to hide his smile. He had truly missed bickering when he was close enough to see Obi-Wan’s eyes glitter and feel his mind ripple in the Force. “Master, you know I am always very appreciative of your teaching.”
“That’s news to me.” Obi-Wan laughed, shaking his head, his expression growing uncharacteristically soft. “I’m not your Master anymore. You don’t have to call me that, remember?”
“I know,” Anakin said quietly, squeezing the large tooka to his chest. “I’ll stop. I just…”
“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan reassured him, eyes on the way he hugged the toy, and then back up, warm and open. “I’m still adjusting too. It is very nice to get to see you. This normally wouldn’t happen.”
“Yeah, I know,” Anakin murmured, and he swallowed. He gave Obi-Wan a tight smile, masking his pounding heart, and turned back to the busy row of booths selling trinkets or offering games of skill and chance. He didn’t feel the need to play anything himself; Obi-Wan allowing him to drag him down to an entertainment level just beneath respectable already felt somewhat like he was pushing his luck. Would Padmé like this? Probably, but she wasn’t here, he would leave soon too…
Anakin felt slightly sick with dread every time he remembered just how temporary this reprieve was. He still couldn’t believe how quickly he’d been Knighted and sent out on his own with his own troops—he hadn’t even had time to get used to being Commander Skywalker before they promoted him to General. He’d complained about being Obi-Wan’s apprentice, yes, but he wanted to be his equal and peer at his side, not separated from him to the other side of the kriffing galaxy.
He turned his head, very aware that there was no soft sensation of a braid falling against his neck. His hair had only had time to grow out a little in the last few months since his Knighting ceremony, but it was enough to begin to curl. He’d caught Obi-Wan staring at his neck earlier with a complicated expression on his face, and Anakin assumed he was also having a harder time with the separation than he would admit.
He cuddled the large, soft tooka to his chest and smiled a small, private smile of satisfaction. It felt like carrying proof that Obi-Wan cared about him more than he would say—that he missed him too. He’d agreed to spend the whole day with Anakin, and their minds in the Force still interlocked occasionally like smoothly meshed gears. Maybe he didn’t want to let go either.
Anakin saw a sign lit up with multicolored strips of light flashing around in laps and gave Obi-Wan an eager look. “Can we do kart racing?”
“Absolutely not,” Obi-Wan said immediately. He crossed his arms at Anakin’s scoff, stubborn and final. “Rather, you may feel free to indulge, but I will watch from out here.”
“Aww,” Anakin grinned, tugging on his sleeve. “It’s too bad I can tell how much you actually want to come too. You just can’t wait to lose, old man.”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where you—”
“C’mon, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said his name slowly and sarcastically, and Obi-Wan gave him a dark, warning look. “Race with me.” He stretched the last word out in a whine, pouting his bottom lip and looking up through his lashes, using the pleading face that got him his way on most every planet.
“No,” Obi-Wan said, unimpressed.
Anakin dropped his pout, annoyed but unsurprised that it never worked on the person he’d learned it from. It had always been irritating to watch Obi-Wan use all his charm and guile to lead opposing parties to the bargaining table, but it had been very instructive as well. It worked everywhere except on Obi-Wan himself. It even worked on Padmé, eventually. Padmé, who wasn’t here…
“Fine,” Anakin gave in, his eyes scanning for something else, trying to escape the discomfort and disappointment of missing his wife. “If we’re not racing, I’m getting a snack.” He began to move across the street toward a vendor selling a kind of fancy, creamy popsicles he liked.
“Wait, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quickly, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from passing. “We can race the blasted karts.”
Anakin narrowed his eyes, testing and poking in the Force to find out what had prompted the change of heart, but nothing was obvious. “Why?”
Obi-Wan shrugged, his body very casual, his face slightly tense. “I changed my mind.”
“Okay,” Anakin said slowly, and then kept walking across the street, pulling his arm from Obi-Wan’s restraining hold. “I still want ice cream first. You know it won’t take me long to finish it.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan said, sounding oddly pained.
Anakin rolled his eyes, hugging his tooka and getting in line. “You could get one too, it wouldn’t kill you.”
Obi-Wan sighed and looked away. “It’s too sweet.”
“Your loss, and I mean that genuinely.” Anakin chose meiloorun flavor after some deliberation and hummed with happiness at the tart flavor. It reminded him of dinner with Padmé at Varykino. “So good.”
“Phenomenal.”
Anakin rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan’s pointed exasperation. He got to work finishing it quickly, as promised, preferring to alternate sucking on the popsicle to warm it up, then licking it an equal amount on all sides to maintain structural integrity. The problem was that it melted a little too fast sometimes, and made a mess.
Unhygienic, Obi-Wan’s favorite complaint.
He licked up some ice cream that melted and dripped down onto his hand. He felt Obi-Wan’s judgemental eyes on him and he blushed. “I forgot to get a napkin.”
Obi-Wan didn’t respond, just shook his head, probably full of disappointment at his lack of decorum and proper hygiene. Anakin huffed and returned to sucking on the popsicle, which was usually less messy than licking, but also less fun. They walked slowly back toward the karting track in silence, and he turned to look to see what Obi-Wan was doing, and accidentally made eye contact. Watching him, apparently, is what he was doing.
Obi-Wan raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you quite finished?”
Anakin pulled the popsicle out with a satisfied pop and studied his progress on it, licking his lips. “If you continue to rush me, Master, I’m getting another.”
“Then by all means,” Obi-Wan said, his voice dry as a Tatooine summer. “Do take your time.”
3.
“Kriffing pfassking sleemo!” Anakin swore loudly inside the metal frame of his Aethersprite starfighter; there was a loud thump, and the sound of something metal hitting the duracrete floor and bouncing away with a clang. Obi-Wan looked up from his briefing packet.
“Problem?”
“No,” Anakin growled, his head poking out from under the ship he’d been tinkering with, a familiar stubborn frown on his face that came from ignoring pain. “The casing is stuck and I crushed my thumb.”
Anakin’s R2 unit began chattering loudly in binary and Anakin glared at it—his hair was truly a mess, grease smeared on his cheeks, shadows dark beneath his eyes. “That’s not true!”
“What is he saying?” Obi-Wan asked curiously.
Anakin’s frown only intensified. “That I need a nap.” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose and he studied the little blue domed droid with surprise and approval. Anakin took one look over at his face and snarled, “Shut up, don’t encourage him.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Obi-Wan replied, tipping his head to the side. “You do look very tired, Anakin. Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“It’s under control.”
“Is it?” Obi-Wan studied his exhausted face, and then he ventured Anakin’s least favorite question, “Is everything all right?”
“I said it’s fine!”
Obi-Wan let the quiet extend for a long moment, and then asked what had been on the tip of his tongue for the last day, ever since the mission had ended. He’d tried to talk to Anakin about this before, during the mission, but he’d brushed him off. “Does this have anything to do with Padmé?”
Anakin froze and then glared at him. “Why the kriff would you ask me that?”
“Usually…” Obi-Wan shrugged somewhat helplessly. “After a mission with her, you’re usually nowhere to be found, Anakin, but she’s returning to Coruscant with us, staying in one of the officer’s cabins, and you’re here.”
“So?”
“Anakin, I…” Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Your recent altercation with Clovis was—”
Anakin’s voice was flat and final. “I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Fine,” Obi-Wan conceded easily, not really wanting to talk about it either. He’d tried at least, as a friend, to help. Nobody could say he hadn’t tried.
Anakin crawled back under the Aethersprite, and returned to work. He was tinkering with some engine parts using a micro hydrospanner—a narrow metal cylinder roughly the length of his forearm. He held it with his mechanical right hand, and Obi-Wan watched absently as he dexterously wielded the tool. It was truly remarkable how talented Anakin was, a true savant with incredible recall and intuition about machines.
He watched as Anakin growled with frustration and then jammed the end of the hydrospanner into his mouth to hold it, using both hands to adjust something. He’d used his mouth for this purpose for as long as Obi-Wan had known him, always sucking on the handle of one tool or another, thoughtful or frustrated. So unhygenic.
The hydrospanner was heavy and long, and Anakin had to work hard to keep it from falling over, instinctively sucking more of it into his mouth to hold it up. Obi-Wan blinked, his mouth going dry as the tool slid in deeper and deeper. How many inches of it were…
He kept waiting for Anakin to gag on it, to cough and choke, but he just kept sucking, his face intensely focused on the intricate work he was doing with his fingers. Obi-Wan felt his cock twitch, and he clenched his jaw hard, looking down; he tried to let go of his hot, twisting feelings and return his focus to his work.
He really should leave and return to work on the bridge, not linger in the hangar, but he’d come to talk to Anakin and couldn’t help but stay. The war had been weighing heavily on them both, and it was just nice to see him without anyone else around: Ahsoka was off with Master Plo, Anakin was apparently avoiding Padmé since the Clovis debacle, and the troopers weren’t hanging around either.
It had become so impossibly rare to be alone with him over the last year of the war, especially after the missions where there had been conflict generated between them. Anakin had mostly forgiven him for faking his death, but their friendship still felt occasionally tenuous and strained, and Obi-Wan frankly missed him. He shouldn’t be around him this much. It wasn’t the Jedi way to linger like this, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Anakin suddenly huffed with satisfaction and pulled the hydrospanner out of his mouth, inch by inch. Obi-Wan felt another throb of deep arousal. It was true that Anakin had always sucked on things, but did he really not have a gag reflex at all? How did that happen? Was Padmé the only person he was sleeping with? Did he suck on something with or for her? Was he practicing with other men? Who? Rex, maybe? Tarkin?
Obi-Wan shuddered. He hoped not.
Anakin’s R2 unit began beeping rapidly, and Anakin swore, pulling his hands back as sparks arched and crackled in front of him. “E chu ta!”
“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, concerned. “Is everything—”
“Everything is karking wizard, Master.”
“The range of your vocabulary today is truly impressive.”
Anakin shot him a dark look. “Just love having an audience.”
“I can leave,” Obi-Wan said mildly.
Anakin’s expression smoothed out, cool and distant. “If you want.”
Obi-Wan suspected that he would have felt a tremor of hurt in the Force in the past. He couldn’t tell for sure now—their training bond had been growing weaker for ages, and then faking his death had almost broken it down completely. That was a good thing, he reminded himself. Distance in the Force between them was healthy and closer to the Jedi way.
He slid off the box he’d been sitting on, landing softly on his feet. “I will see you in two hours at the Council briefing?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Anakin drawled, his attention returning to his work, the hydrospanner immediately going back deep in his mouth, almost down his throat, and he must suck so much cock to do that so easily, his lips pressed around—
Obi-Wan cut off his own thoughts and turned away, using all of his lifetime of Jedi training to turn his attention back to his responsibilities. He nodded at a passing group of troopers and briskly made his way to the bridge, thinking deliberately through the upcoming offensive, all extraneous and unhelpful thoughts sliding away.
The visual of the inches of metal sliding slowly in and out of Anakin’s mouth, his pink lips dragging along it until it popped free, slightly shiny with his saliva, flashed into Obi-Wan’s mind, and he clenched his jaw, rubbing his face to clear his expression. It really would be for the best if they split up now, but he felt so resistant to the idea. He didn’t want to let him go.
4.
They had been on Utapau for three days when it happened to Anakin too. It was the week of his twenty-first birthday, and he had been sure to be as insufferable about it as possible, as was tradition. Obi-Wan had endured it with good grace, but his simmering annoyance did sometimes break through, and it almost made Anakin want to grin every time.
He was so grateful for this mission—it was the first time he’d really felt anywhere close to happy since Padmé had served him divorce papers and Ahsoka had left the Order. No more wife, no more Padawan, but at least he still had his old Master…
They had been deployed to Utapau on a mission to investigate the murder of a Jedi, and had been working together so easily; it was almost like old times. They had found evidence pointing to a conspiracy between the local Amani people and the Separatists, and were investigating further, tracking a group of warriors across an open, grassy plain.
They’d made camp for the evening, and Anakin watched the fire, feeling helpless as a negative tide of emotion rose in his chest, terrible memories surfacing—bloody battles, painful arguments, losing people he loved, either lying dead in his arms or rejecting him, pushing him and his love away. Why hadn’t Padmé listened and understood about Clovis? Why had Ahsoka walked away from him? He’d wanted her to stay…
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently, and Anakin shook his head to clear it, looking away from the mesmerizing flames of the small campfire.
“Yes?”
Obi-Wan sat down heavily on the ground beside him, setting down a tiny box the size of his fist in front and then sliding it closer. “I’ve been carrying this since we were in the capital, you might as well have it now. I know your birthday is not—”
“Thank you!” Anakin grinned and cut him off, reaching forward excitedly, feeling himself flush as he picked up the little box. It felt like Obi-Wan was radiating soft sunlight in the Force, and his mind’s proximity felt warmer than the fire to Anakin, the heat of it reaching deeper inside and melting something that had been frozen solid.
“Don’t shake it,” Obi-Wan said quickly, knowing exactly what he was about to do. “I’ve tried to keep it relatively stable and uncrushed.”
Anakin gave him an incredulous look. “Was that before or after the fight with the MagnaGuards?”
“After,” Obi-Wan said primly, humor dancing in his eyes. “I acquired it after.”
The box turned out to contain a small cupcake, and Anakin stared at it for a long moment, taking in the slightly squashed swirl of orange frosting. It smelled very sweet. He swallowed thickly, his eyes filling with tears for some strange reason.
“Anakin?”
He looked up and smiled quickly, trying to smooth the concerned line from between Obi-Wan’s brows. “It's great, Master.”
“You really can stop calling me that,” Obi-Wan said quietly, searching his eyes. “It’s been years.”
“I know,” Anakin shrugged apologetically, but with no intention of stopping. He carefully picked up the cupcake, taking a tiny bite to savor it and then humming happily. “The frosting tastes like jogun fruit.”
“I’m glad it’s acceptable.”
“It’s wizard,” Anakin grinned, and Obi-Wan smiled gently back.
Obi-Wan looked away first, picking up a stick, poking at the fire, and artfully rearranging the logs. Anakin took another tiny bite, watching how the flickering firelight turned Obi-Wan’s hair almost copper. His beard was so neat, despite the chaos of the war, his hair stubbornly tidy. Was he vain, secretly? Why did he care about his appearance so much? He hadn’t been this tidy before the war, had he? Anakin couldn’t remember, but his hair used to be longer, right…?
He frowned slightly, studying his Master, and it was almost like he was looking at a stranger he’d never seen before. The man he was camping with was so strong and lean, his shoulders so broad and waist so narrow. His face was so open and kind, his dimples hiding behind his sleek beard. He was so handsome. How had he not really noticed that before?
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, wanting his attention very badly for some reason.
Obi-Wan’s eyes shifted back to him, and dropped at once to his lips. Anakin wiped them with the back of his hand and realized he’d had frosting on them. He smiled, feeling slightly awkward. “I… thanks. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Obi-Wan smiled again, and Anakin felt so warm, basking in one of Obi-Wan’s true, complete smiles that reached his eyes. He felt closer to Obi-Wan in the Force than he had in years. He sighed and settled into his Force presence, the edges of their minds tangling back together like before, comfortable and quiet.
He took another nibble of the cupcake and groaned. “It's so good!”
“May I try some?” Obi-Wan asked absently. “I did carry it all the way here.”
Anakin looked between Obi-Wan and the small cupcake with surprise at the request, and suddenly he didn’t want to share. He clutched it to his chest. “No, it’s mine!”
“Rather rude to gloat and then not share.”
“It’s too sweet for you.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “I like jogun fruit, you know that.”
“It’s my birthday,” Anakin said loudly, taking another bite and then sticking out his tongue defiantly.
Obi-Wan carefully ran a finger through the remaining frosting, swiping some to taste it, and Anakin made an indignant noise. On instinct, he grabbed Obi-Wan’s wrist, yanking his hand closer to take his finger into his mouth and sucking the frosting off. He pulled his head back, dropping Obi-Wan’s hand and laughing with satisfaction, having prevented the theft.
Wait, what?
Obi-Wan went rather still, and Anakin blinked twice, his mind numb and buzzing. Obi-Wan just stared back at him with equal blankness, his hand dropping slowly. The firelight was reflected in his eyes, but they still looked so dark. Anakin felt his face begin to burn, the reality of what he’d just done finally processing in his mind. He’d just sucked on Obi-Wan’s finger.
“Umm…” Heat pooled in his gut and his cheeks burned, his heart pounding as he blinked again, shaking his head slowly. “Sorry…”
Obi-Wan laughed incredulously, and the moment was broken. He laughed again more quietly, looking down and wiping his finger on his pants. “You are truly insufferable, Anakin.”
“Thank you,” Anakin laughed shakily, running a hand through his hair, trying to recompose himself. “I'll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t one,” Obi-Wan shot back.
Anakin shrugged that he didn’t care, and then he swallowed thickly, tasting the jogun fruit from Obi-Wan’s finger. His mind was still stuck and stalling—he couldn’t believe he’d just done that.
He was very grateful that Obi-Wan seemed determined to pretend nothing had happened, and he shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth and chewed it slowly, his attention returning to the fire, savoring the sweetness as best he could. He still felt flushed and uncomfortable, and he shifted how he was sitting, trying to calm himself down.
What the kriff was that?
5.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered urgently, pushing on his shoulder. “Wake up.”
Anakin shifted and murmured something inaudible over the sound of the heavy rain pounding down on the plasto-canvas tent, but he didn’t wake. The siege on the remote Outer Rim planet had been going for weeks too long, and Anakin had gotten very sick, a rare occurrence for a Jedi, probably from eating something poisonous.
Obi-Wan always told him not to eat unfamiliar bugs, but did he listen? No. How was this possibly the man that Obi-Wan… cared for? He was an idiot.
He was currently burning up with fever, sliding in and out of consciousness, and Obi-Wan had to make sure he took his medication every few hours. It had been easy enough when Anakin was awake and he could put the tab on his tongue himself, but he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, and Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to shake him awake.
“Wake up, please,” Obi-Wan repeated without much hope, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. He studied the narrow, livid scar through Anakin’s brow, well healed but still so bright, and how it only served to augment the roguish charm of his face. He was so beautiful.
Obi-Wan sighed, letting that observation go for the millionth time, and he returned to his task. How to give him medicine that had to be placed on the tongue, if he wasn’t able to notice or help?
Obi-Wan considered calling Kix to come and do it, but that seemed a bit absurd. He already had the medication at hand, and he just had to give it to him, there was nothing technical or difficult about it, so there was no need to disturb Kix, or summon a droid for something this simple. His finger was just going to have to go into Anakin’s mouth. Again.
Obi-Wan vividly recalled the campfire on Utapau several months before, with the familiar lightning strike of arousal that always accompanied the memory. The wet heat of Anakin’s mouth, how he’d sucked and licked him clean, eyes dancing with amusement in the firelight. Obi-Wan exhaled away the desire, allowing it to flow through and past him as always.
He tentatively pushed on Anakin’s forehead, tilting his head back enough that his mouth fell open. Anakin still didn’t wake, and Obi-Wan felt a swell of concern. He stared at the small, dark opening he’d created between Anakin’s lips, and decided that it would be enough. He picked up the small tab with his fingertip and paused, mustering courage.
Anakin’s eyes shifted quickly beneath his lids, and his breathing was so fast and shallow. Obi-Wan wished vainly that he would just wake up—he didn’t like being this close to him. It was trespassing in extremely forbidden territory. His former Padawan wasn’t wearing a shirt, so his strong chest was visible, his nipples and sharp collarbones were on display, the scent of his sweat was so familiar and strong.
Obi-Wan took a bracing breath and then pushed his finger into Anakin’s open mouth, carefully placing the tab on his tongue. Anakin’s lips immediately closed around his finger and he sucked on instinct, and Obi-Wan’s eyes slid closed. Anakin’s mouth was so hot and wet, the sucking, tight pressure of his tongue was so good.
He started to pull his finger back, and Anakin wrinkled his nose and made an unhappy noise, sucking harder, trying to keep it inside. Obi-Wan froze, and he was burning up. His mind seemed disconnected with his body, and he watched with horror and fascination as he pushed his finger back inside. Anakin made a happy little noise that knifed him in the gut. He exhaled hard as Anakin’s tongue curled around him. He was inside Anakin.
Obi-Wan blinked quickly, trying to wake himself up. His cock almost hurt with the speed at which he was getting hard, and he felt lightheaded and slightly stupid. He adjusted the position of his wrist, and all that did was pull out and thrust his finger back in at slightly a different angle.
Anakin made another pleased noise, and Obi-Wan bit back the urge to groan. His lips were so pink and soft, pressed tight around his fingers as he instinctively sucked harder for a moment before relaxing, lips turning plush and pillowy again, slightly slick. It was like the time with the blasted frosting, but so much worse. That had been a true lightning strike from a blue sky, this was a slow and steady immolation.
He took a shaky breath and pushed the sweaty curls off Anakin’s forehead with his free hand, almost petting his head, studying his flushed face. His cheekbones were so sharp, his jaw so strong, his nose was almost cute, his mouth… His finger was inside his mouth. Obi-Wan wanted him so badly, it was so wrong.
His comlink chimed, and the spell was broken.
He stood up quickly, ignoring Anakin’s little sad whine of protest as he pulled his finger free, and crossed the room to find his comlink, beyond grateful for the interruption. He coughed and fixed his posture, breathing in and out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. Once he was sure that his voice wouldn’t betray him, he accepted the transmission. Back to reality. “Kenobi here.”
“Sir, we might have a problem.”
“Great,” Obi-Wan said with relief, turning to grab his cloak. “I could use one of those.”
+1
Anakin was feeling better, but he was not yet well enough to fight, at least in the professional opinion of Kix, and so also in the opinion of Obi-Wan. In Anakin’s opinion, this was the absolute worst phase of any recovery. He felt like a penned up, starved nexu. He needed to move, he wanted to break something, cut up some droids at least…
Obi-Wan gave him a sideways look, almost lethal in his annoyance. “Stop sighing.”
“I’m bored,” Anakin complained, slumping back in his bed and glaring at the plasto-canvas tent ceiling. “I’m so bored.”
“It’s raining hard and the enemy shields are still up. There is absolutely nothing to do, even if you could do things, Anakin. Same as the last fifty days we’ve been here. Just…” he sighed, and said the last word tiredly. “Relax.”
Anakin crossed his arms and huffed, studying Obi-Wan across the tent. He didn’t like the amount of exhaustion evident in his voice, and he didn’t understand why he looked so tired. Others might not have been able to see it, but Anakin knew his old Master well enough to see that he was almost screaming his fatigue.
While he still looked as tidy and well-groomed as usual, his shoulders were slightly too slumped as he read at his small desk, his head rested too heavily on one of his palms, and his eyes were slightly too dull as he read—but they’d done nothing for weeks. Anakin had been the sick one, not him. It didn’t make sense.
Why wasn’t he sleeping well?
“Stop sucking on your blasted tabards!” Obi-Wan said suddenly, the exhaustion replaced by sharp exasperation. “Are you incapable of keeping things out of your mouth for more than five minutes at a time?”
Anakin delicately let it fall out of his mouth, flushing with embarrassment. He hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it, he rarely did. He muttered defensively, “I just like having something in my mouth.”
“Why?” Obi-Wan said sharply, with entirely too much anger.
Anakin frowned in confusion at his near outburst. “I don’t know. I guess it calms me down. It helps me think.” Obi-Wan glared at him, and Anakin shook his head slowly. “Why does it bother you so much?”
Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and looked away. “It’s unhygienic.”
“You’ve said that a million times,” Anakin grumbled, biting and sucking on his lower lip while he thought about why he did it. “I just like sucking on things. It feels good. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan growled quietly and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“You’re very frustrated with me about it,” Anakin said slowly, sitting up and reaching out with his feelings in the Force, overwhelmed by the wave of Obi-Wan’s spiky displeasure. “Why? What’s so wrong with me chewing on stuff? It’s not hurting anyone.”
Obi-Wan made an unhappy face and looked back down at his pile of reports. “I just said it’s fine. I apologize for snapping at you.”
Anakin shook his head. “You’re still so annoyed with me and I don’t understand why!”
“Drop it, please.”
“No!”
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, and Anakin suspected he was counting down from ten in his mind. He picked up one of Anakin’s screwdrivers that had found its way on to his desk and held it up to his mouth. “Anakin? Tell me what this looks like.”
Anakin watched with growing mortification as Obi-Wan put the handle in his mouth, sucking on it and moving it in and out a few times, pushing it into his cheek so that Anakin could see it from the outside, before pulling it out with a pop, maintaining intense eye contact for the whole time.
Oh… oh no…
Obi-Wan glared at him, his voice intent. “Tell me.”
“Umm…” Anakin’s face felt so hot; he could barely breathe. He looked intently at the floor. “It looked like…”
“How many blowjobs do you even give?” Obi-Wan asked rhetorically, dropping the screwdriver loudly on the desk. “One a day?”
Anakin put his face in his hands, wanting to melt into the floor and die. He hadn’t really ever thought about how it looked before, but he’d looked like such an idiot, he couldn’t believe… “No.”
Obi-Wan was uncharacteristically snide. “More than that, then?”
“No,” Anakin repeated, his voice very small.
Obi-Wan exhaled hard and then shook his head, rubbing his eyes. He gave Anakin a tight smile and turned back to his work, his presence in the Force trembling and then going artificially still. “I apologize for that. I haven’t been resting well.”
“Why?” Anakin asked quietly, still mortified. “Are you sick too?”
Obi-Wan laughed without humor, tipping a hand from side to side. “Arguably.”
“What?”
“I’m fine, Anakin. I’m just a little stressed.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you with that?”
Obi-Wan stared at him blankly, and Anakin shrugged, still feeling shy. “I’m a General too, and we’re a team on this planet. Or I guess you’re technically in charge, but…” He squared his shoulders, making his voice stronger. “The things that stress you out should stress me out too, Obi-Wan. How can we work together if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you?”
Obi-Wan’s face was unreadable. “You rarely report to me about the true source of your many and varied moods. Why am I held to a higher standard?”
Anakin blushed and looked away. “Your problems are always the good and useful ones for Jedi to have. Mine… aren’t.”
“You seem very sure about that,” Obi-Wan said, almost amused. “You could not be more wrong, however. I want many things that aren’t allowed too, Anakin.”
Anakin didn’t believe him. “Like what?”
Obi-Wan just shook his head. “I don’t want to tell you. How does that feel?” A smile softened the otherwise pointed jab.
“Bad,” Anakin whispered. “Why not?”
“It’s frankly none of your business.”
Anakin felt another wave of hurt. This whole conversation was making him feel like a bruise that’d been slapped. “Okay.”
He lay back down, staring up at the tent roof numbly. He caught himself before he tried to suck on his tabard again, feeling small and stupid. Obi-Wan thought he was going around giving people blowjobs because he sucked on things a lot? That was so absurd…
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and the hint of apology was back. “I’m—”
“It’s fine,” Anakin cut him off. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall. “I’ll try not to do it anymore.”
He startled when the bed behind him dipped slightly; Obi-Wan had crossed the room quietly to sit on the edge of the mattress and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Anakin, please don’t take any of that to heart. I’m very tired. I was speaking in anger.”
Anakin hugged himself, wishing he had the large stuffed tooka that he’d been forced to leave at the Temple. Life was so much simpler back when Obi-Wan won that for him. Their bond was still healthy and strong then. Obi-Wan hadn’t left and betrayed him yet. “I’ve never given anyone a blowjob in my life.”
He heard Obi-Wan inhale sharply, a bubble of disbelief floating up in the Force, popping his incredulity in Anakin’s face. “What?”
Anakin scowled, his eyes filling with tears. “Who exactly do you think I would even be sucking off, other than you? A trooper? I wouldn’t abuse my rank like that, and the fact that you assumed that I would—”
Obi-Wan cut him off with a firm, reassuring squeeze of his shoulder. “Of course you wouldn’t, Anakin. I was actively trying not to think about it, I’m sorry.” Anakin rolled his face back to the wall, sniffing quietly. Of course Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about him blowing someone. He must have been so disgusted with him all the time, just putting up with him.
“Anakin…”
Anakin swallowed, his throat felt so tight. “What?”
“Other than me?” Obi-Wan asked tentatively, as though he couldn’t really believe Anakin had said such a thing.
Anakin didn’t look at him. “Who else do you think I would want?”
“You do know plenty of men, Anakin.”
“Don’t want any of them,” Anakin shrugged roughly, his voice so quiet. He sniffed again, trying to manage his emotions and failing, like usual. “Never have. I figured you, of all people, would know that.”
“How would I know that?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin remained silent.
If Obi-Wan had really paid attention to him, really noticed him, he wouldn’t have assumed he was sucking other people off, but he didn’t know him at all, apparently. Nobody did. Nobody cared enough to know…
Obi-Wan tugged him over to lie on his back, looking down at his face curiously. “I knew for certain that you were with Padmé, Anakin, at least. Why wouldn’t you be with other people too?”
Anakin wrinkled his nose at the idea, keeping his eyes down. “Why would I want to?”
Obi-Wan scoffed, shaking him slightly. “Because it feels good? I don’t know. Why were you with Padmé?”
Anakin pressed his lips together, refusing to let his face crumple. “Because I loved her. I loved her so much.”
“What? Anakin, you—” Obi-Wan said, trying to interrupt.
Anakin talked over him, blinking angrily, and a tear dropped and slid sideways down his cheek toward his ear. “She loved me too, you know, at least for awhile. She stopped, though. I ruined everything. Now nobody does. Nobody loves me specially at all. I’m finally a good Jedi.”
“Anakin…” Obi-Wan sounded so sad, and Anakin refused to look at him. He didn’t need his pity.
“It’s fine,” Anakin reassured him flatly, crushing his emotions down and away, as usual, trying to turn back to the wall, pulling against Obi-Wan’s restraining hand. “I don’t need anyone else. I never get what I want, do I? That’s just my life. I get to jerk off and be fine for the rest of my life and do good work as a Jedi. That’s what’s important, right?”
Obi-Wan was silent, but Anakin could feel his emotions in the Force clearly, a rapidly boiling, indecisive mixture of guilt and need. Need for what?
“Let me go,” Anakin huffed with frustration, tugging against Obi-Wan’s hand so he could roll away, wanting to just curl up and die, thanks Obi-Wan, really nice…
“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan pushed him down harder, keeping him in place and looking at him with an expression Anakin didn’t recognize. “I need to know…”
“Know what?”
Obi-Wan swallowed. “Do you want me?”
Anakin ground his teeth, looking away and sullenly echoing Obi-Wan’s earlier words. “I want many things that aren’t allowed. What does it matter? I’ve tried not to bother you about it.”
Obi-Wan’s breathing was unsteady, and his hand tightened slightly. Anakin reached out with his feelings, and raised his eyebrows in surprise at the intensity of the energy radiating off Obi-Wan. Excitement and horror, fear and recklessness.
He asked, befuddled. “Obi-Wan?”
“I…” Obi-Wan licked his lips and tried again. His heart was pounding, and there were butterflies in his stomach, adrenaline pumping through his body. This wasn’t the Jedi way, but he didn’t care. He was so tired of caring. “I want you too, Anakin.”
“What?” Anakin sat straight up with surprise, making Obi-Wan lean back quickly to avoid colliding skulls. Anakin’s disbelief was radiating so strongly in the Force, it was almost overwhelming. He was intently studying Obi-Wan’s face, suddenly so close that Obi-Wan could see all the shades of blue in his eyes.
Obi-Wan shrugged, words spilling out of him without much thought. “I don’t know what happened, Anakin. I don’t know when I…” He trailed off, thinking of red, sticky lips, neon lights on golden skin. He set his jaw. “I know we should have been separated after your Knighting. They let us stay together so much, and it encouraged unhealthy attachment from me at least, and—”
Anakin grabbed his tunic and pulled him closer, cutting him off and kissing him desperately, tired of waiting. Obi-Wan felt like he’d been punched, and Anakin lifted a hand to gently rest on the back of his head, pulling him closer, sliding his fingers into his hair and tipping his face to the side to kiss deeper.
His lips were so soft, pressing so sweetly against Obi-Wan’s own, and finally he knew how it was to kiss him, and it was better than he…
Obi-Wan took approximately two seconds to really recover his equilibrium before he kissed Anakin back, feeling almost mindless, seeking almost greedily, licking into his mouth, finally tasting him, their tongues brushing and sending electricity down his spine. Anakin whimpered against him and Obi-Wan pulled his head back, breathing hard. His cock was getting so hard it almost hurt.
Anakin was looking at him with wide, vulnerable, hopeful eyes. “I didn’t think you would think of me like this at all.”
Obi-Wan laughed despairingly. “Of course I did. I can’t look away when you’re in the room. Ever since…” His eyes fell to where Anakin’s braid used to be, and he felt an intense, overwhelming spike of guilt. He pulled his head back, pushing Anakin away and rubbing his hands roughly over his face. “You deserve better than this. This is… a bad path.”
“It’s not,” Anakin said firmly. He closed his fists on Obi-Wan’s tunics and tugged hard, laying back on the bed and pulling him on top of him. Obi-Wan exhaled hard with surprise, and then grabbed both of Anakin’s hands, removing them from his tunic and interlacing their fingers, putting them firmly above his head.
He shifted his hips so that he wasn’t so uncomfortably twisted, and suddenly he was hovering over Anakin, looking down at his flushed face, laying between his legs, and Anakin squirmed, parting his legs wider and allowing Obi-Wan to settle his hips more comfortably against him.
They both went still, breathing heavily, a pleading look blooming on Anakin’s face. “Please, Master? I need it, need you.”
Obi-Wan swallowed, burning up with arousal, trying to remember why this was a bad idea. He tried to pull back slightly, and almost moaned at how good it felt to have Anakin lying beneath him. He could feel Anakin’s hard cock against his stomach, and the pressure of his body beneath was so perfect against his own cock, so firm, so soft.
“This is… the path to the dark side.”
“No, it’s not…” Anakin whined, rocking his hips up against him, making Obi-Wan swallow a groan. “I get worse the further away you are. I need you close. I only feel centered when I’m with you.”
Obi-Wan clunked his forehead against Anakin’s and took a deep breath. He transferred both of Anakin’s wrists into one hand, and then slid the other hand to touch his chest, pressing his palm down over his heart. “You should have your center here, Anakin.”
Anakin scowled and tugged one of his hands free, placing his palm firmly on Obi-Wan’s chest in return, mirroring his position and whispering stubbornly, “I'd prefer to have it here.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan ground out. “We…”
Anakin pressed up again, pulling him close and kissing him sloppily, rolling his hips down. Obi-Wan felt pulled by strong gravity onto his body, crushing him into the mattress. His sense of propriety and restraint were bleeding away, all his guilt too. He felt so good, too good, so fucking perfect, Obi-Wan needed to fuck him, fill him with come, fuck…
He kissed him back, pushing his hips down for pressure, accepting that all his protests would be futile and performative after this point. He broke the kiss to breathe, but was unable to go far, kissing roughly down Anakin’s long, smooth neck, just like he’d wanted to for so long, and his flushed skin was so soft, so warm, and he smelled so good.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whimpered, tugging his hands free and wrapping them around Obi-Wan’s back, holding him close. His cock was so hard against Obi-Wan's, and he whined. “Please, Master!”
Obi-Wan groaned quietly, incredulous at how good it was to hear the sound of his familiar voice turned husky and full of need. He never imagined Anakin would feel this way about him too, it was so impossible. The Force was tremulous and sparkling, ripples of their combined desire and incredulity mixing and mingling, the edges of their minds blurring into one thing.
“This is bad. Very bad. We have to leave the Order, Anakin.”
“But…” Anakin frowned at him, his eyes hazy and dark. “Protect people?”
Obi-Wan shrugged, not really capable of thinking about anything other than Anakin’s warm, soft body. “Other ways…”
“Ugh,” Anakin groaned and rolled his eyes, rocking against him at the same time and panting with need. “If I agree, will you fuck me?”
Obi-Wan laughed, and looked down at him, chest tight with affection, his cock achingly hard. “If we leave the Order, I promise I’ll do nothing else.”
Anakin blushed, eyes wide, chewing on his lower lip. “Yeah?”
Obi-Wan nodded confirmation, sitting up on his knees and pulling off his shirt, and tugging at Anakin’s. Anakin leaned up and clumsily helped as Obi-Wan pulled off his clothes. It felt so overwhelmingly good, and the rest of the world fell away as Obi-Wan stripped him quickly, his strong hands stroking his body and baring his skin.
Anakin whimpered as Obi-Wan pulled off his pants, his hard cock bouncing up as soon as it was free of the fabric. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and stroked it once, his fingertips running underneath and pressing gently. Anakin groaned, his hips rocking, seeking the pressure. “We’ll do this a lot?”
“I promise you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice low and certain, and he pulled off his own pants. Anakin’s eyes widened at the sight of his cock, and he unconsciously licked his lips.
Obi-Wan groaned, incredulous at how close he already was to coming. He pushed Anakin to the side, sitting up on the pillows beside him and rolling him onto his lap. “I promise that I will steal you away to an uncharted planet and fuck you until you can’t move. Anywhere, all day, in bed, against a wall, bend you over, push you to your knees. How does that sound?”
Anakin blinked rapidly at being turned over, and having Obi-Wan’s hard cock abruptly placed in his face. “Really?”
Obi-Wan groaned with frustration, a heated flash of a slideshow of memories sliding through his mind. He gripped the base of his cock and lined it up with Anakin’s mouth, his lips were already so shiny and swollen. “You’ve been driving me insane for years.”
“Really?” Anakin gently kissed the tip of his cock, looking up hopefully.
Obi-Wan nodded, pressing the head against Anakin’s fat bottom lip, sliding it back and forth, enjoying how he looked with his mouth open, ready and waiting for his cock. His voice became deeper and more scolding the more he talked. “Teasing me with your mouth, every day, constantly sucking on things. It made me feel insane. I’m going to need years of my cock in your mouth to make up for all that time.”
“Good,” Anakin said on an exhale, licking his cock and humming with satisfaction. “Sounds good.”
Obi-Wan cupped the back of his head, his fingers sliding into his curls, and pulled his face closer. Anakin happily sucked the head into his mouth, his long, dark lashes fluttering down on his cheek as his eyes rolled back with pleasure. His lips looked so good wrapped around his cock. Obi-Wan groaned, his hand flexing, instinctively grabbing his hair more tightly. “So good.”
Anakin pulled his head back to breathe, and licked the head of his cock affectionately, flashing a bright smile.
Obi-Wan exhaled hard as Anakin returned to sucking his cock, exploring and testing, he was so inexperienced but enthusiastic, and it was so impossibly endearing. He pet his head, guiding his pace up and down, his words fast and low. “I do apologize for assuming you were a bit of a schutta for years, you know, because I could so easily imagine you on your knees, panting, begging for cock.”
“Only for you, Master…” Anakin whispered, licking his lips and swallowing, sucking on his cock, looking up. His eyes were so intense and earnest, pupils fully blown black, and Obi-Wan felt trapped in his stare. “Nobody else.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan exhaled, and pulled him up, tugging his mouth closer, kissing him deeply.
Anakin pulled his head back, and then frowned, his eyes closing and face smoothing out, a hand lifting as he concentrated. Obi-Wan was about to ask what he was doing when a half-full bottle of bacta slapped into his palm and he dropped it on Obi-Wan’s lap hopefully. “Starting now, right? I said yes.”
Obi-Wan laughed and weighed the bottle in his hand, searching Anakin’s face. “You’ve really never done this before?”
“Just Padmé.”
“Did she ever touch you here?” Obi-Wan tentatively ran a hand over his ass and squeezed. Anakin squirmed, shaking his head, and Obi-Wan made an irrationally satisfied noise deep in his chest. “What about you? Ever watch dirty holos and touch yourself here, darling?”
He squeezed the soft muscle of his ass again, and this time his fingers pressed in deeper between his legs, seeking and stroking against the sensitive skin of his hole. Anakin whined loudly, flushing crimson, his hips jerking, babbling an answer. “Yes, yes, I’ve done that.”
“Good,” Obi-Wan said slowly, his mind flooded by images of that. He proceeded to arrange Anakin so that he was lying comfortably on his stomach, hips propped up on a pillow, legs spread. He was completely relaxed and obedient, allowing Obi-Wan to move him around without any resistance at all. It made Obi-Wan feel slightly dizzy, and he knelt behind him, spreading his legs apart wider and trying to catch his breath.
Anakin grumbled and squirmed, pressing his cock against the pillow, and Obi-Wan could see it leaking precome. He squeezed the curved muscles of his ass again, opening him up and memorizing the sight of Anakin bent over, his legs spread, ass fully visible and on display, his soft, tight pink hole just begging to be opened up and fucked.
It began to rain harder on the roof of their tent, and it was so muggy and warm. All he could smell was Anakin’s sweat, and all he could see was his body—his hands felt hypersensitive, touching was the most real thing in the world, the strongest sense, stronger than sight. He slid his hands up Anakin’s soft back, following his spine and then grabbed his shoulders briefly.
“You look so good like this, Anakin. So good for me.”
“Yeah?” Anakin whined, pushing his hips down. “Please, Obi-Wan, I need you to—”
“I know,” Obi-Wan cut him off, and kissed the nape of his neck before pulling back. He enjoyed the view again until Anakin made an unhappy noise, and then got to work opening the bottle of bacta, dispensing some of the slippery liquid on his fingers. “I’ll make you nice and ready first, Anakin, nice and ready. I promise.”
“Good,” Anakin nodded into the pillow, nervously spreading his legs further apart. Obi-Wan stroked his thigh reassuringly and slid his slick fingers between his legs, spreading the bacta on his soft skin. He began to open him up, feeling almost meditative. The Force was a fluid mess between them, so many raw emotions of indeterminate origin, Obi-Wan didn’t know exactly who was feeling what, except that both of them felt desire.
That ocean of mutual desire was the thing that kept him going, sliding his fingers in gently, scissoring them and spreading him, encouraging him to relax and open up. He had his fingers inside Anakin. It was not the Jedi way, and he didn’t care, he felt reckless and terrified, or was that Anakin? Were they just feeling the same things? Indistinct and indistinguishable?
Anakin looked back over his shoulder, rolling his hips and offering himself up. “I’m ready, I know I am.”
Obi-Wan made eye contact, sitting back. He resisted the urge to ask if Anakin was sure, as could predict what the answer would be. He swallowed and pulled his fingers out, and the emotion eddying around them shifted to anticipation.
Obi-Wan looked at him sharply. “I feel you so clearly in the Force. Can you feel me too?”
“Yes,” Anakin confirmed, nodding quickly, pleading. “I need it, please!” Obi-Wan nodded and leaned forward, lining up the head of his slick cock, rubbing him gently, giving him a last moment to prepare himself.
Anakin groaned with frustration, and turned his head to look back. Obi-Wan smiled and pressed the tip inside, making him gasp and freeze. He slowly began to relax, taking more, and Obi-Wan gave him some low encouragement. “Good, you’re doing so well, darling. You feel so good to me.”
Anakin whined and nodded, and Obi-Wan kissed him, and it felt like coming home, or maybe creating one. It felt so right to be this close, so inevitable, so necessary.
He pulled back and pushed forward with his hips, pressing deeper, and Anakin whimpered. Obi-Wan repeated the motion, thrusting slightly harder, trying to hear that sound again. Anakin did it again, and Obi-Wan groaned. “Good, Anakin, very good.”
Anakin just blinked at him, his mouth wet, voice breathy. “I did something good?”
Obi-Wan smiled, running a hand through his hair and kissing him in confirmation, his hips rocking forward again, sinking his cock in deeper, and Anakin whined against his mouth. Every time Obi-Wan fucked in harder, Anakin repeated that perfect sound, his mouth falling open, eyes wide and full of need.
It was so much for him, almost becoming too much. “Obi-Wan, I can’t…”
“Of course, darling,” Obi-Wan went still, letting him adjust for a moment before pulling out.
“I did not mean that I was finished,” Anakin said indignantly. “Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan laughed, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just turning you over, love, calm down.”
Anakin went still, allowing him to move him, and Obi-Wan quickly rolled him to put him on his back, spreading his legs, adjusting him to the right angle again. He was lining up his cock, about to press in when Anakin asked unsteadily. “Did you mean that?”
“What?” Obi-Wan paused, rubbing his cock against his slick hole, needing to get back inside. “Mean what?”
Anakin blushed, and his nervousness made Obi-Wan’s gut twist. He frowned down at Anakin’s flustered face. “What’s wrong?”
“You said…” Anakin avoided his gaze. “It’s not important. Never mind.” He looked up, blinking quickly, eyes bright. “Fuck me, Master.”
Obi-Wan froze, thinking back through what he’d said and identifying the key word. Anakin bit his lip nervously, shifting his hips, trying to lure Obi-Wan inside. “Anakin—”
“It’s fine,” Anakin stressed, trying to pull him closer. “Please, I need—”
“I love you,” Obi-Wan said loudly, cutting him off and making Anakin go still, his eyes so wide and haunted. He swallowed, and tried again. “I do love you, Anakin.”
“What?” Anakin said, like he’d made a joke. “You don’t.”
Obi-Wan frowned slightly and kissed him, reassuring him as much as he could in the Force too. Anakin kissed him back eagerly, pulling him closer, arching his back and spreading his thighs, his voice demanding. “Fuck me.”
Obi-Wan reached down to line himself up again, and then pushed his hips forward, his cock sliding easily back inside. Anakin made the perfect sound again, and Obi-Wan sucked on his bottom lip, just like he’d always wanted.
He was so hot and tight around him, slick and soft, so perfect to fuck.
He couldn't help but slide his hips back and forward again, smooth and slow, and Anakin made the sound again but lower and longer, so much pleasure inside it. Obi-Wan felt a thrill of pride that he could make Anakin sound like that, so he did it again. “You like that?”
Anakin’s pleasure pulsed and crackled in the Force, and he moaned, “I love it, Master…”
Obi-Wan fucked him carefully, slowly, and deliberately, driving Anakin closer and closer, determined to make him come while being fucked. The game of it distracted him from his own pleasure, focusing on making Anakin whine instead of how incredible his hot body felt around his cock, how well he was taking it.
“You can fuck me harder now,” Anakin said breathlessly, holding his legs out wider. “I can tell you’re holding back.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “This is about you.”
Anakin rolled his hips. “What I want is for you to fuck me as hard as you want, and then come inside me. I want to watch you fuck me and come.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan groaned, stuttering to a stop and looking at him with disbelief.
Anakin squirmed unhappily as he stopped, pouting up at him. “What?”
“I really do love you,” Obi-Wan said helplessly, staring down at him, his bright eyes, handsome face. He swallowed. “You don’t have to believe me, but I…”
“I know you do,” Anakin pulled him close, hugging him tightly and whispering in his ear. “I can feel it in the Force.”
“Good,” Obi-Wan pushed against him, thrusting hard inside, reaching out and feeling his mind mesh deeply and completely with Anakin’s in the Force, interlocking together to spin smoothly. He could feel Anakin’s emotions and he felt open and more seen than he ever had before.
He looked down at Anakin, and was very aware of how much Anakin wanted to see him come apart. The demand was greedy but also kind, he was demanding and offering at the same time. It was mesmerizing, and Obi-Wan nodded. He pulled back and thrust his hips in much harder, making Anakin’s eyes roll back.
“Touch yourself,” Obi-Wan instructed him tightly, fucking him harder. “I want to watch you too, Anakin.”
Anakin nodded, his hand jumping to his cock, moving quickly. Obi-Wan groaned and sped up, fucking inside more forcefully, making him take all of it, over and over, until the sound of their hips slapping together was almost as loud as Anakin’s whimpers.
Obi-Wan pushed his legs further apart and fucked him harder, enjoying his little punched-out whines. “Come in me,” Anakin said, breathy and inviting, his hand moving fast on his cock. “I’m close, I want to see, please, Master!”
Obi-Wan fell into the sound of his voice and let himself go, one last rough thrust burying himself deep inside. He groaned loudly as he came, his face going tight and head curling forward as he came in hot pulses.
Anakin murmured encouragement, “Good, perfect, Obi-Wan, so good.” He twisted his wrist and moaned, his come spilling in his hand as he rocked back on Obi-Wan’s cock.
Obi-Wan collapsed forward on him for a moment, his mind completely blank, and the Force so impossibly loud with pleasure that he felt almost high. Anakin complained when he rolled off and grabbed a shirt to clean them off, murmuring contentedly and curling up on his chest when Obi-Wan returned.
He seemed extremely sleepy, or was that Obi-Wan’s exhaustion influencing him? Obi-Wan was so very tired. He used the Force to kill the lights and stared up into the dark, listening to Anakin breathe.
He knew that something absolutely life-shattering had happened but had absolutely no mental energy to consider it or the consequences. All he could think about was how perfect Anakin felt in his arms, how good it had felt to come inside him.
Whatever the consequences of what had happened, they would be facing them together, and that fact alone was enough to bring him a tremendous sense of peace. He held Anakin tighter and began to drift off to sleep, finally able to rest.