Obi-Wan’s hold on his consciousness was slippery and inconstant.
After being pulled away from Darth Vader’s grip in the flames on Mapuzo, he’d drifted in a seemingly eternal haze of pain, jostling movement and variable light, and then blessed silence, numbness, and oblivion. That precious oblivion was sliding away now, but only partially, his awareness struggling to fully crest the surface of the waters of unconsciousness.
He was awake enough to feel pain and remember that he was a person, but not yet awake enough to be able to gain control of his mind. The Force was so active around him, almost frenetic, and Obi-Wan wasn’t able to separate himself away from the pull of it. There was a churning maelstrom in the energy field that surrounded him, them, them both….
Obi-Wan felt a rising sense of panic; he was so deeply, viscerally aware that he was not alone. He was far, far too open to the Force, too available to a bond that had no right to be as strong as it was after so many years of atrophy. He was close. He was everywhere. He…
Obi-Wan’s mouth moved without thought to say, “Anakin.” He’d meant to say, “Vader,” but it didn’t matter either way; his speech came to his ear quiet and garbled from inside a breathing mask, almost completely muted in the viscous bacta that surrounded him. His eyes fluttered, but it was so dark, he could barely see. He needed to wake up all the way, pull his mind back inside his body and protect himself, wall himself away again.
Agony suddenly lanced through him, and he cringed, only making it worse. His arm and shoulder had lit up with pain as he moved, damaged muscles flexing under healing skin, a sharp reminder of what had happened—how he’d watched Vader kill innocents before mustering the courage to fight him, how poorly that fight had gone.
Obi-Wan cringed again, the looming proximity in the Force of the man who had once been his best friend was almost as painful as his burns. He tried to wake himself up all the way again, but failed, as though Vader had somehow grabbed on to Obi-Wan’s mind and was holding it tight in his teeth, not letting him leave.
Vader was everywhere and nowhere, somehow both parsecs away and occupying the same space as Obi-Wan as their minds overlapped in the Force. It was familiar, it was foreign, it was excruciating.
Obi-Wan blinked quickly, trying to clear his vision and see outside of the tank. He gasped and jolted backward against the harness holding him suspended, trying vainly to get away from an unexpected reflection cast back on the inside of the glass. He saw a face that was not his own, but deeply familiar, warped by time and scarring, undeniably recognizable.
“Where are you, old man?”
Obi-Wan groaned and convulsed, his injuries screaming in protest. It was Anakin’s real voice in the back of his mind, not the terrible, deep voice projected from his mask. It was just as lovely as it had been before, just as melodic and soft, except given a knife's edge of icy rage. He’d grieved that voice; he’d thought he'd never get to hear him speak again; he never wanted to hear him, Anakin…
“You cannot hide from me forever.”
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes closed and shuddered, careless of his injuries, and the ghostly reflection of Vader shook his head with mock disappointment. “Ignoring me won’t work, Master. You’re not leaving here until I want you to go.”
Obi-Wan grabbed helplessly for the Force, trying again to wake himself up, his sense of claustrophobia increasing in the strangely dark liquid, unable to escape the ruined horror that was Vader’s body before him, the shadowed whorls of his melted chest. Anakin had been face down on black sand, charred from lava, distorted then from burning alive…
“Are you proud of your work, Master?” Vader said sharply and glowered, menace radiating from his sickly, yellow eyes.
Obi-Wan made himself stop staring, resolutely looking away and swallowing thickly, and his throat was so tight that it was painful. The urge to panic still prickled through his nerves, extremely unhelpful when he could neither fight nor flee, and he could barely breathe with how much he wanted to be anywhere but suspended there, trapped with a ghost in the Force.
It was impossible to keep his eyes away from Vader’s reflection; he was so pale and faded, familiar and foreign, his knotted scars covering the majority of his body, and his limbs were capped where Obi-Wan had cut them off. All of Anakin’s youthful radiance, the golden glow of health from his easily tanned skin and his abundance of messy curls, all of it was gone. What had he become?
“What you made me,” Vader repeated his words from their fight in the quarry, and it was so much worse to hear in Anakin’s familiar, once-comforting voice.
You’ve done that yourself. Obi-Wan heard a scrap of conversation from Mustafar replaying in his memory, and shook his head, pushing the memory away. He could almost smell the sulfur in the air and feel the heat of the river of molten rock, almost see the light leaving Padmé’s eyes.
“Don’t you dare show me that!” Vader snarled, and he was suddenly even closer, inexplicably moving forward from the reflection into the tank to be fully present, hanging almost nose to nose, his yellow eyes making Obi-Wan feel sick to his stomach. This must be a dream, now, a nightmare, surely…
Vader’s eyes were manic with grief as he came near, far too near. “Did you just stand there and watch her die? Did you even try to save her?”
Obi-Wan recoiled as Vader somehow advanced again, fully expecting the harness to restrain his escape, and instead he stumbled back to his feet. He regained his balance and looked around, sucking in air and frowning in confusion. It was dark, just dark, everywhere around him. He was standing on his feet, wearing absolutely nothing, alone in the dark. In the Force? In his mind?
A fist flew into his cheek, crunching against his jaw and turning his face; he was not alone, then. Twisting with the blow tugged on his shoulder and made him exhale hard from pain, and he raised a hand to protect the injury, drawing back and instinctively greeting the presence he could recognize so clearly, no matter how distorted it had been by the dark side. “Anakin?”
“Anakin Skywalker is dead,” a slightly ghostly version of Anakin said, flickering into existence, equally nude in the unnatural shadowed nowhere place.
He began to pace around Obi-Wan in a menacing circle, shifting disconcertingly between his handsome Knight self, and the scarred appearance of Vader. Vader’s mind was here with him, he couldn’t stay here, he had to go…
Obi-Wan tried to disentangle himself from whatever this was, but it was impossible. His mind still had all the channels and grooves where Anakin’s mind had once slotted together smoothly with his own. He’d never actually tried to erase the ways Anakin had shaped him; he hadn’t been able to forget him, and it gave Vader an intimate, inescapable backdoor into his mind.
He squared his shoulders, gritting his teeth through the pain, and studied the mutable face of the man before him, spinning slowly to keep him in front as he circled. “You resemble Anakin a great deal.”
“The resemblance is deceptive.“ Vader said with a flash of cruel amusement. His appearance flickered between Anakin and Vader for a moment before solidifying with livid scars and metal limbs. “I killed him.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be able to hold me here like this,” Obi-Wan pointed out, warily keeping an eye on Vader’s center of gravity, anticipating an attack.
Vader didn’t disappoint, and he launched himself directly at Obi-Wan after feinting hard to the left. Years of sparring had taught Obi-Wan exactly how to manage Anakin’s wrestling style, and it seemed that the past decade apart hadn’t changed anything. He managed to twist and use Vader’s speed and weight against him, flipping him down to the shadowy ground.
Vader glared up at him and growled. “Did you even try to save her?”
Obi-Wan huffed with pained surprise as one of Vader’s metal legs connected with his shin, knocking him off balance, and then sweeping his feet out beneath him. Vader almost managed to pin him, but Obi-Wan expertly shifted his hips and pushed back hard, shoving him off, ignoring the screaming agony in his shoulder. “You are the one who killed her, Darth.”
“She was alive, I felt it!”
“Alive and dying,” Obi-Wan snapped, evading Vader’s grasping hand and twisting further away. He focused on his breathing, and intentionally directed his thoughts toward safe topics, filling his mind with images that Vader could see without compromising anything secret.
“Where?”
“Where what?” Obi-Wan asked tiredly, dwelling inside the pain of his burns, appreciating the sharp, piercing sensation for what it was. Perfect distraction.
Vader sounded out each word with icy intensity. “Where did she die?”
“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, more than slightly winded, grappling Vader as he attacked again and almost subdued him, pinning him temporarily to the ground. “Why does it matter?”
Vader shoved him off and kicked his shin again emphatically. “I might have saved her! If you’d had the decency to die when you were shot, she would still be alive!”
Obi-Wan scoffed, easily rebuffing another of Vader’s sloppy, angry lunges to pin and choke him. They were both out of practice at this…
Vader narrowed his eyes, and Obi-Wan felt him poke at his mind. “Was it a boy or a girl?”
“What?” Obi-Wan gulped, immediately dropping down and letting all his weight fall on his injured shoulder. Kriff, that hurt.
“My child, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan immediately focused all of his available attention on the bodies of the younglings in the Temple that he’d found cut down, keeping the image of their tiny, still forms steady in his mind’s eye, and pushing Vader out of his mind as he evaded his hands. “I didn’t ask.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Vader almost spat at him, moving quickly and slamming Obi-Wan to the ground on his back, hovering over him, his voice full of loathing and disdain. “You unfeeling, indifferent, cruel…”
The words had a strange echo, as though the audio played twice at once. Their position felt far too familiar, and Obi-Wan blinked, the darkness rolling away and shifting as a memory took its place. Wait…
It was suddenly past midnight on Coruscant, and Obi-Wan was laying back on his comfortable Temple bed, staring up at the play of lights from distant traffic on the ceiling, trapped by the weight of his shirtless Padawan, who was hovering over him in the identical position as Vader had been before, blinking down at him with surprise.
Obi-Wan pushed at his shoulders, his stomach twisting with horror because he remembered this moment, far too well—Padawan Anakin had far too much to drink on his twentieth birthday, the week before Ansion, the mission before everything fell apart.
He’d happily allowed Obi-Wan to escort him back to the Temple from the bar, and immediately began shedding his clothes the second the doors to their quarters slid closed. Things escalated that night in a way that Obi-Wan would never have anticipated, with drunk, hopeful Anakin invading his personal space, all wide blue eyes and flushed cheeks, so handsy and painfully cute, asking for something he couldn’t have.
Obi-Wan obviously rebuffed him, but he hadn’t taken no for an answer easily, and hadn’t stayed in his own room after Obi-Wan emphatically put him to bed. He had squirmed his way in with Obi-Wan anyway, and clung stubbornly to his chest as he fell asleep, nuzzling against him with his cheek and complaining plaintively that he wouldn’t fuck his Padawan.
Master, please? I want you to fuck me, please, Master? Don’t you want me, too? You're so unfeeling, so indifferent, cruel…
“So this did happen,” Vader said, his voice full of resentment, his eyes livid and yellow-red. “You always pretended so well it hadn’t, I thought I’d just imagined doing it.”
Obi-Wan tried to bolt out to the side, but Vader swiftly restrained him with the Force, raising a hand and pinching his fingers to focus as he pulled Obi-Wan’s wrists together and pushed them over his head, locking them in place.
Obi-Wan tugged futilely and cursed the fact that he’d gotten so out of practice with the Force, and that he was so emotionally disturbed as to lack the concentration to free himself. He went still as Vader leaned forward to straddle his waist, and sat up on his stomach, looking down at how he looked restrained on the bed with something like glee, petting his beard.
“I forgot how pretty you were, Master.”
“What?”
Vader stroked his hands through Obi-Wan’s long, silky hair, and Obi-Wan realized it must be the same length as it was before the war. His appearance must match the dream, just as Vader’s did, with Anakin’s handsome face, his long, messy Padawan braid hanging down his neck and brushing his collarbone, the skin of his chest looking silky and soft, tanned and gleaming in the low light.
It was such a surreal shift in perception. Obi-Wan needed to wake up. Now.
All his useful pain from his burned, ruined shoulder was gone, the immersion of the vision was complete. Vader certainly appeared to be enjoying the sensation of having his biological hands back. He let the strands of Obi-Wan’s hair slide between his fingers, rubbing his hands down Obi-Wan’s beard to his throat.
He wrapped his fingers carefully around Obi-Wan’s neck and rested his thumbs together against delicate cartilage, his expression rapt. “I could do this with the Force, but…”
Obi-Wan’s pulse was racing, and they stared into each other’s eyes, frozen for a suspended moment before Vader mercilessly tightened his grip, cutting off Obi-Wan’s air. Obi-Wan kicked and struggled to free himself, his chest arching up underneath Vader’s thighs, desperate to breathe.
He tried to close his eyes and focus, but he was dying, and his brain wouldn’t let him, and it was almost as horrible to watch Vader’s sadistic face as to feel his hands. It was Anakin’s cheeks that were flushing with excitement at choking him, Anakin’s eyes becoming increasingly dark with vicious pleasure as he watched Obi-Wan writhe beneath his hands. Anakin…
After a seeming eternity, Vader released his grip, and sparks flashed in front of Obi-Wan’s eyes as he sucked down air, feeling woozy. He tried to pull away as Vader’s fingertips gently teased the rapidly bruising ring around his neck, looking away from a disturbing smile spreading on Vader's face as he stroked the damage he’d caused.
“I think I’m going to fuck you before I kill you, Master,” Vader said silkily, a deeply unkind gleam in his eyes. “Both now, here, and later, for real.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, and Vader just smiled like a hungry nexu at whatever horror was visible in his expression, rolling his hips down against Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan tried to turn his face away and ignore the fact that Vader was getting hard, but Vader pushed his fingers into Obi-Wan’s mouth, curling and hooking his jaw and yanking his face to the front.
Obi-Wan glared up at Vader and tried to escape, without any success, and Vader sighed with mock sorrow, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “It really didn’t have to be like this, Obi-Wan. I wanted so badly for you to let me touch you that night, you know, so many nights, but you rejected me.”
“Obviously,” Obi-Wan tried to say, but Vader pushed his fingers even deeper into his mouth, shutting him up. Obi-Wan considered biting him, but Vader’s other hand was lightning quick to reach back and grab Obi-Wan’s cock through his soft pants, giving him a small, threatening squeeze. Oh no…
Vader smirked and stroked Obi-Wan's cock, careful not to be too rough, using teasing contact he couldn't avoid. He sounded viciously pleased at Obi-Wan’s reaction. “You’re getting hard, Master. Do you like this? Did you want me to just take what I wanted that night, so you could pretend you didn’t want it too?”
Obi-Wan shook his head, making a vehement denial around the fingers in his mouth, almost gagging on them with surprise at the unwelcome, hot rush of pleasure as Vader shoved his fingers deeper into his throat at the same time as he slid his hand inside Obi-Wan’s pants to pull out his cock.
Vader spat in his palm and began to jerk Obi-Wan off as he played with his mouth with his other hand, and Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do. Nobody else had touched him like this in years, and he hadn’t had the desire to touch himself much either, so the warmth of Vader’s hand and the pressure of his fingers was almost too good.
He hated the fact that he was getting so hard, and that he could easily see Vader’s cock getting hard in his underwear too. He tried his arms again and felt a swell of despair when Vader’s control had somehow remained good enough to keep him locked in place.
“None of that,” Vader said, mock chastising. He pulled his fingers out of Obi-Wan’s mouth, thoughtfully smearing the saliva around his lips. “I thought about doing this so much. You’re not moving until I’m done.”
“Don’t—” Obi-Wan began, and Vader grinned and lightly slapped him, shocking him more than hurting him, effectively shutting him up.
“I thought about doing that too.” Vader grinned, slapping him again a little harder, flashing Obi-Wan one of Anakin’s most mischievous, playful expressions that felt like a knife between the ribs. He was so beautiful. Anakin…
Vader tugged on Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, scooting forward and pulling his cock out of his underwear. It was flushed and thick, the tip already shiny with a smear of precome. “Open up, Master.”
Obi-Wan stubbornly set his jaw and Vader frowned, the hand that had been teasing Obi-Wan’s cock leaving so that he could grab Obi-Wan’s hair with both hands, tugging his head into the right position to fuck his mouth, roughly shoving fingers against his clenched jaw to open him up. Vader was going to fuck his mouth. This couldn’t be happening, couldn’t be real…
Vader looked so satisfied as he slid the slick tip of his cock along Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, spreading his precome, and Obi-Wan hated how much he looked like Anakin in that instant. It was almost cruel for him to see that his Padawan had a pretty cock that made his mouth water slightly despite himself. He’d never let himself imagine it in detail before, and now he had to know. He’d just have to forget.
He took a last, shaky breath before Vader flexed his hips forward, pulling on his hair at the same time as pushing his cock deep inside his mouth. Obi-Wan relaxed his jaw instinctively, trying to take it, but he still felt dizzy from being choked before, and wasn’t ready to have his air taken away again so soon.
Vader thrust in deeper and he gagged around the thick length, his hands clenching into fists, the surreality of what was happening was making it difficult to catch up. Vader’s face was so tight with pleasure that his eyes were closed, and it was almost possible to pretend that it was Anakin.
Obi-Wan’s cock was stubbornly hard, not understanding that he couldn’t, shouldn’t enjoy what was happening. It had been years since he’d sucked anyone’s cock, but was able to relax into the feeling. Vader groaned with appreciation as his cock sank even deeper inside as Obi-Wan adjusted.
“Good, Master,” he breathed, his hips beginning to slide back and forth as he lightly fucked his mouth. His hands tightened in Obi-Wan’s hair, keeping him firmly in place. “Should have known you’d be good at this. Your kriffing mouth.”
Obi-Wan felt drool leaking out of the corners of his mouth as Vader fucked his face harder, almost bruising the back of his throat. He hated how much his own cock throbbed as he felt more and more lightheaded. Was he going to pass out with Vader’s cock in his throat? Would Vader pull out or keep fucking him?
He moaned with relief as Vader pulled his hips back, sliding his cock out and giving him a moment to breathe. He gasped and panted, his mouth open wide, and Vader spat in his open mouth, reaching back and squeezing his cock. “Wish I’d known I could’ve used you like this and you’d have loved it. The war would have been so much more fun.”
Obi-Wan had no response for that, and Vader just slapped him hard and grabbed his hair again, yanking his head back into position for his cock. Obi-Wan felt disoriented and limp, and he was only able to open up and take it as Vader fucked his cock deep inside, relaxing his jaw as Vader rolled his hips to push the thick head even further down his throat. He shouldn’t like this, it shouldn’t make him hard, what was wrong with him?
After a moment that stretched out for an eternity, Vader pulled his cock out, letting Obi-Wan breathe, and reached behind him, smirking as he felt just how hard Obi-Wan was, how aroused he was from Vader fucking his face.
Vader stroked Obi-Wan’s cock, so pleased at bringing him close to the edge. He hummed thoughtfully, his hand slowing down but increasing in pressure. “Would it be worse for you to come with my cock down your throat or in your ass? You want me to fuck you, don’t you? I can tell.”
Obi-Wan hated that he knew Anakin’s face well enough to spot the moment that Vader decided to fuck him. His unnatural yellow eyes were so full of hated and lust, possessive and loathing, and Obi-Wan felt like a prey animal in a trap. There was nothing he could do as Vader scooted back and rolled him over with the Force, holding his wrists still bound together with an intangible knot.
He shoved Obi-Wan’s face down hard into the pillow, holding him there, and then tugged down his sleep pants. The bedroom air was cool, and being exposed made him shiver, and Vader spanked his bare ass with a sharp slap. “Your ass, Master…”
He spanked him again and then shoved his thighs apart, kneeling between them and pulling apart his cheeks, exposing him completely. It was humiliating, and Obi-Wan’s cock throbbed. His hips jolted as he felt Vader spit on his ass and circle the rim with his fingers, testing and teasing the sensitive skin.
“I’ve fucked you in my dreams a thousand times.” Vader’s voice sounded so low and satisfied, it made Obi-Wan’s cock throb and leak despite himself hearing Anakin’s aroused rumble. “It’s different to know I’m really making you take it, even in a dream. Look at you, panting for it…”
Vader rubbed the head of his cock between his legs, pushing on his hole, taunting him. “Bent over and fucked by your old Padawan. You’re going to take my cock, and I don’t care if you like it, Master.”
Obi-Wan groaned as the blunt, thick head of Vader’s cock threatened to fuck inside without anything other than spit to ease the way, and he looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t just…”
Vader paused, his voice annoyed. “Don’t just… what?”
Obi-Wan tried to mask his surprise as Vader actually stopped, and he coughed, his words rough after the damage done to his throat. “In the top drawer, you should use it.”
“Use what?”
“Lube. It’s better. For both of us. Trust me.”
Vader made a dubious face, and then shrugged, holding Obi-Wan still in the Force as he hopped off the bed to the low dresser, finding it quickly. Obi-Wan felt Vader’s swell of rage in the Force as he shook the half-empty bottle, and shot Obi-Wan a dirty look. “I had no idea you were such a shutta, Master. Did you spread your legs for anyone who asked?”
He climbed back behind Obi-Wan and slapped his ass again painfully, his fingers prodding hard between his spread cheeks, poking and testing his tight hole. “How many men have had this?”
“I…” Obi-Wan didn’t know if a real response was required, and he shuddered at the intimate sensation of Vader stroking his entrance, attempting futilely to squirm away. “I generally prefer to top, actually.”
“Too bad,” Vader said happily, and he shoved a slick finger roughly inside Obi-Wan’s tight ass, making him cry out with surprise, his cock throbbing and leaking at the intrusion. “Anakin would have loved for you to fuck him.”
Obi-Wan cringed at that, tugging on his hands, and swallowed a moan as Vader began to roughly fuck him with his fingers, hating that he could very easily get off on being treated like this during sex. “Don’t, Vader—”
“Shut up,” Vader growled, adding another finger roughly, spreading them wide and opening him up quickly, without much gentleness.
Obi-Wan relaxed into it as best he could, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning. It had no right to feel this good, he wasn’t supposed to enjoy this— Vader was a monster. Vader was going to fuck him. He wanted Vader’s cock, wanted Vader to fuck him hard, force him to take it, so was he a monster too?
Vader sucked a mouthful of saliva and then spat once into Obi-Wan’s slick, hastily stretched hole, deciding he was ready enough. He sloppily lubed up his cock and lined up the head, pausing there for an eternity. What was he waiting for?
Obi-Wan shuddered with anticipation, his heart pounding, his own cock almost painfully hard and desperate for pressure, and apparently Vader was just waiting for him to squirm. He thrust his cock inside, roughly pushing the blunt head through the tight muscle of Obi-Wan’s entrance and snapping his hips forward and down, fucking his cock deeper inside.
Obi-Wan went limp against the bed and moaned, just taking Vader’s cock, his legs open and not resisting as Vader began to fuck him quickly. Vader’s low growl of pleasure was shamefully thrilling to hear as his cock slammed in deep, over and over, opening him up and making room between his hips. Vader’s pleasure sounded like Anakin’s.
He could feel Vader's pleasure building in the Force, an eddying, boiling pool, and it was completely overwhelming. He was being quickly driven to the edge, his own cock leaking on the sheets below as Vader pounded into him, even the sound of Anakin's hard breathing was familiar, the scent of his sweat. Could he really come untouched, just from being fucked roughly by someone he used to love?
“You’re enjoying this,” Vader said angrily, fucking him harder, the slapping sound of it filling the quiet room. He yanked hard on Obi-Wan’s hair, turning his neck and making him look him in the eye, forcing him to acknowledge that it was Vader who was fucking him. “You wanted me to do this before, didn’t you? You wanted to make me force you, didn’t you?”
“No,” Obi-Wan said lamely, and he groaned as Vader tugged hard on his hair. He felt a swell of sadness at the idea, and moaned as Vader changed his angle to fuck him more quickly, short thrusts that stroked his prostate. He was so close, so close, no…
“No?”
Obi-Wan found it difficult to shape words, his mouth wet and hanging open, little noises forced out of him with every rough thrust. “My Padawan.”
Vader went still, and then abruptly sat back to his knees, and he yanked Obi-Wan’s back up to his chest with a rough tug, a hand wrapping around the front of his neck and bending his spine back, keeping him in place, holding him in his lap. His cock was so deep, rubbing just where it made electric shocks of overstimulation crackle up his spine, too good, it felt too good…
Vader spoke quietly, hot breath against his ear, his hips rocking shallowly. “You would’ve fucked me when I was a Knight?”
Obi-Wan didn't answer, he couldn't. He groaned as Vader’s hand slid around to find his cock and began to jerk him quickly, fucking him hard. The perfect combination of his cock stroking mercilessly along the most sensitive place inside and his hand so perfect around him was good, far too good. He made a low, desperate sound, and Vader bit his shoulder, and it hurt, almost breaking the skin.
“Look at us,” Vader instructed roughly, turning Obi-Wan’s face toward a narrow mirror on the far wall, and Obi-Wan shuddered, wanting to close his eyes, but unable to look away. It was something so painfully perfect to see, the image of them together, both so young—it was how it could have been if he’d been a little more selfish, a little less moral.
Vader squeezed the head of Obi-Wan’s cock with a twist of his wrist, murmuring in his ear with so much satisfaction, “Come on my cock, Master. Come while I fuck you.”
“Can’t…” Obi-Wan shook his head, fighting how good it felt, trying to keep it back.
“Getting fucked by your own Padawan, Obi-Wan, look at you, schutta." Vader’s voice was so rough and low, almost caressing the last word, and it was cruel to hear Anakin’s voice so flush with arousal like this, cruel to see in the mirror how he looked behind Obi-Wan, holding him to his chest with his muscled arms, fucking him with his surprisingly thick cock. “I’m going to come inside you, Master, dirty you up. You’re mine, always were…”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan gasped, and with one more thrust against the perfect place, he came, curling forward and groaning loudly. An overwhelming sense of release flooded his brain, and it felt so electric, he felt out of control, limp, caught, and held tight in Vader's arms, cock pulsing almost painfully, filling Vader's palm with come until it was dripping to the sheets.
Vader made a deep, furious noise at the sound of his name, and he grabbed Obi-Wan by the hips, shoving him down and fucking him roughly and erratically as his own orgasm closed in too, the sound of his hips slapping against Obi-Wan’s, the overwhelming sensation of Vader’s cock slamming inside him, it was all too much.
Vader abruptly pulled out and rolled him over onto his back, shoving his legs apart and thrusting smoothly back inside. Obi-Wan cried out, his eyes squeezing closed, his back arching, tugging on his wrists—it was too much, too fast. He shuddered as he felt the rough, wet heat of Vader licking his cheek, tasting whatever tears of overstimulation fell as he continued to fuck him relentlessly.
All he could do was wait as Vader took him, and it consumed all of his attention, making the world collapse into the sensation of his cock fucking so deep inside. He swallowed a whine and made himself relax into it.
"I can feel it hurts," Vader rasped, fucking him harder. He bit down hard on Obi-Wan's neck as he abruptly came, his hips jerking as he finished inside him, filling him up with a low, pleased moan.
Obi-Wan stared blankly at the ceiling, his breathing rapid and shallow. The sound that Anakin made as he came was going to be impossible to forget, and it was so cruel for him to hear, so cruel for him to know. He shivered as Vader pulled out, feeling wet and dirty with Darth Vader's come.
He was probably able to move his hands and escape, with Vader’s control having been compromised so much, but he felt like he couldn’t move, so spent and limp. He’d forgotten it felt good to be fucked. He wished didn’t matter who did it or in what way, it was nice to scratch the urge for rough sex. The problem was acknowledging the truth of who it was. Anakin really was dead. Vader was a monster.
Vader collapsed on top of him and stretched lazily, his eyes satisfied and not at all apologetic. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to open yourself to the Force again, Master. I’m looking forward to doing this again soon.”
Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to get himself out of the hazy aftershocks of pleasure and pain. “This won’t happen again.”
Vader’s lip curled in a lazy, condescending smile, and wrapped his hands back around Obi-Wan’s neck. “We’ll see.”
Obi-Wan remembered Vader’s words with a bolt of fear. “I think I’m going to fuck you before I kill you, Master.”
“Don’t…”
Vader pressed an almost tender kiss to his forehead, and then tightened his grip, cutting off his air. Obi-Wan struggled, but it was no use, Vader was too strong, and too well positioned for Obi-Wan to escape. It hurt so much, but unconsciousness came quickly, and in the end it was almost a relief to escape Vader’s eyes, so he let the darkness take him. Death, unconsciousness, he could accept either, except…
Leia.
Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open in the bacta tank, and he immediately knew for sure that this time he was fully awake. The Force curled and hummed around him, almost apologetic, and it was empty of Vader’s presence. He jerked in his harness and gasped for air, the pain in his shoulder was excruciating.
Leia.
He struggled to the surface of the tank, entirely done with hanging there, passive and useless. He clumsily pulled off his breathing mask, and sucked down fresh air gratefully, and looked around with another, more specific spike of panic at seeing Tala, and only Tala. He coughed, but his voice wasn’t as rough as he feared when he spoke.
“Where’s Leia?”
Obi-Wan’s late morning sparring session with Anakin had quickly grown heated. Defeating his Padawan posed a real challenge, and had for longer than he would admit. Anakin was an incredible athlete, and so innately powerful with the Force. He was cunning and quick with his saber, backed up by incredible strength, truly a dangerous combination.
The familiar rhythm of their footwork sounded crisp on the marble floor of the reserved sparring chamber, dancing in harmony with the crackling and crashing of their blades. It was a lovely day on Coruscant, and the skies outside were a bright blue with wispy clouds, the light filtering through the clear walls of the circular room to create an ambient glow.
Anakin grinned, rapidly shifting through attacks that Obi-Wan had taught him, and Obi-Wan enjoyed the irony as he struggled to defend. It was a very clever combination of moves that managed to hook his lightsaber from his hand, and push him to his knees. The bright look in Anakin’s eye and his broad grin was insufferable at having won. “It’s over.”
Winning wasn’t the point.
“Your need for victory, Anakin… it blinds you.”
Obi-Wan dropped his center of gravity and exploded out into a low, spinning kick, advancing into rapid unarmed combat and putting Anakin on the defensive. He moved in close, dodging his humming blade and grabbing his arm, using the leverage to spin him and elbow him sharply between the shoulderblades as a distraction before calling his lightsaber away from his hand with the Force.
Anakin turned to look at him, his eyes vulnerable for a moment at being disarmed before filling with resentment, and Obi-Wan felt a tiny pulse of frustration at his brittle pride and lack of perspective. He knew that Anakin hated losing, but it was good for him, and needed to happen again and again until he learned his lesson.
He regulated his breathing, taking deep, steady breaths to regain his composure before he explained. “You are a great warrior, Anakin, but your need to prove yourself is your undoing. Until you overcome it…” He deactivated Anakin’s lightsaber, spinning it in his hand as he approached to offer up the hilt, finishing his thought, “…a Padawan you will still be.”
Anakin accepted the lightsaber and dipped his head, cheeks slightly dark. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at him. His underlying fondness for his apprentice was difficult to keep down, no matter how much Anakin tugged on the leash and chomped at the bit. He was trying so hard to measure up, to be good enough, and it was hard to fault him for that. Once he outgrew that adolescent need for praise, he would be a formidable Jedi indeed, and Obi-Wan was sure it wouldn't be long now.
He already looked a little older than Obi-Wan had ever seen him.
Far older, actually…
Wait…
Obi-Wan realized with a jolt of dread that he was in a dream and wasn’t alone, only a heartbeat before Vader did. There wasn’t enough time to prepare himself to face him, feeling crushed by the weight of a wave of memories of what Vader had done to him during the last dream they’d shared—how it had felt, both coming on his cock and dying beneath his hands.
He must have somehow fallen asleep on the transport away from Jabiim, and he needed to wake up. He was unable to breathe, unable to do anything but watch helplessly as Anakin’s beautiful blue eyes turned yellow, his expression twisting with hate.
Vader held himself with much less grace than Anakin had done, more rigidly upright, so heavy on his feet, and it was devastating for Obi-Wan to notice the subtle change. He flinched as Vader moved lightning-fast to arm himself, igniting his blade and pointing the humming tip of it toward Obi-Wan’s face, his voice harsh.
“Couldn’t resist, could you?”
“Resist what?”
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth with frustration as his saber flew from the floor to Vader’s outstretched palm with a loud slap before he could summon it himself. Vader immediately ignited the second blade, sneering down at the hilt in his hand before rolling his wrist to spin it into attack position too, glaring hatefully into Obi-Wan’s eyes.
“Rubbing my face in my weakness.”
Obi-Wan just shook his head. He’d wasted enough breath trying to teach Anakin; he knew there was absolutely no point engaging in conversation with Vader. He reached out with his feelings instead, trying hard to wake up, but the dream stubbornly resisted any attempt to end it.
It was a bizarre sensation; his efforts were sliding off the Force around him as though he were scrabbling at the inside of a sealed transparisteel cockpit window, like Vader’s presence was somehow caging him in. The sparring chamber was far too hushed to be real, he understood now, both muted from external sounds and in the Force.
None of it was real.
There were no streams of traffic outside the window, and the Coruscant beyond was just a suggestion of the real city, a mere memory of it. Obi-Wan suddenly hated this false Temple, finding it indescribably painful to see it as a shadow of how it was, before it had burned, before he’d walked amongst the bodies of younglings and elders.
He tried to at least change the dream, leave the Temple, and go literally anywhere else. He just didn’t remember how it had all changed last time—it had been a memory that had lifted up and swallowed them both, tugging them inside and holding them there. How to make that happen?
Vader began to circle around him, holding their lightsabers ready in a familiar jar’kai opening. His anger was radiating in the Force, icy and pervasive, and his chest ached to see Anakin’s handsome face contorted with so much hate, and so much murderous glee to have Obi-Wan disarmed and at his mercy.
Obi-Wan kept an eye on him, evaluating his options, ignoring the nausea twisting his stomach, the energy trembling in his limbs, the deeply instinctual prey response when faced by a predator. His mind was alight with a pervasive sense of danger; he knew that Vader was going to hurt him, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Vader’s anger was almost unhinged, eyes wild, and he pointed again with a blade in accusation. “You were beaten, but you never accepted that I won!”
He punctuated the last two words with emphatic slashes, and Obi-Wan would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t vividly aware of the danger he was in. He knew well that there was no amount of praise that would have satisfied Anakin then or Vader now, and he didn’t have to flatter the ego of a monster.
“You still have much to learn.”
Vader sneered, tipping his head forward and looking up at him with loathing from underneath his furrowed brows. He lashed out in a vicious attack, and Obi-Wan evaded on instinct, trusting the Force and his reflexes as he danced out of the reach of Vader’s slashes and cuts. It was immediately obvious that Vader wasn’t trying to kill him; he was trying to cut off limbs.
It occurred to Obi-Wan as he dodged that maybe he shouldn’t actually be trying to escape the crackling blades, maybe he should seek them instead, because last time the end of the dream had been his death, presumably, so maybe…
Vader stiffened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, and he stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides and deactivating both blades at the same time.
Obi-Wan used all his focus to try to pull one of the hilts out of his hand with the Force, but Vader kept his grip on them both, shoving Obi-Wan back roughly into the window instead, and the back of Obi-Wan’s skull connected with the transparisteel with a loud crack, his vision going dark, a faint ringing sound in his ears.
It hurt tremendously, distractingly, and he would probably have slumped to the floor if Vader weren’t also holding him up by the neck using the Force. He was almost completely cutting off his air, and Obi-Wan’s hands jumped to his neck on instinct as he struggled to breathe, blinking away flashes of light. Sith hells.
Vader stalked closer, clipping both lightsabers on his belt to free his hands, pointing an accusatory finger into Obi-Wan’s face. “You’re not leaving until I decide to kill you.”
Obi-Wan gasped and struggled, fighting against Vader’s immobilizing grip, but no matter how much he strained and reached for the Force, he wasn’t able to free himself. He was only able to wince with pain as Vader grabbed his hair and slammed and held his head back against the window, a dark gleam in his eyes.
“Jabiim, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan abruptly found it much easier to breathe as Vader freed his throat to let him talk, holding him up by the hair instead. He gasped and let his hands drop, but Vader hadn’t asked a question, so he didn’t answer, instead letting his eyes slide past Vader’s face to stare blankly at the far wall, refusing to even look at him.
“Jabiim!” Vader repeated himself with more volume, grabbing and yanking on Obi-Wan’s chin until they were eye to eye, shaking him and making his head throb sharply with pain. “Did you choose it for me on purpose? To remind me?”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, unbearably smothered and revolted by the feeling of Vader’s hands on his skin, shivering at his hot breath on his face. It was easier not to look at him when he looked to be this strange blend of eighteen and much older, a dream version of Vader who was a frustratingly beautiful illusion of someone who didn’t exist, someone who in reality was entirely corrupted by the dark.
Obi-Wan had been revolted by Vader’s grotesque black mask when they’d fought in person on Mapuzo, but it would have been better to face the truth. He’d rather see burns from Mustafar than be deluded by what might have been. Vader was a monster, a murderer of innoncents, and it should’ve felt much more disgusting to touch him, but he had Anakin’s face.
Anakin…
Vader squeezed his face and hair, demanding his attention, crowding him against the window, and Obi-Wan’s entire body was overwhelmed by the mix of sensations, his head fuzzy. Vader’s palm was too smooth and warm as it cupped his jaw, and the scent of his sweat was too familiar, making Obi-Wan’s chest ache with longing and revulsion.
He reached deep inside for power, and finally hooked into the Force, focusing and shoving Vader back. He was so weak in comparison to the Sith in front of him that he wasn’t able to do much except get his hands off him, but it was better than nothing. He just couldn’t think clearly when Vader was touching him.
He yelped with surprise as he unexpectedly fell backward, the window behind him disappearing, and he landed back onto the muddy ground with a soft thump, and blinked up with confusion at a cloudy, slate gray sky. His head throbbed, his disorientation lingering. He inhaled and the air was warm, heavily scented with the combination of wet soil and battlefield smoke, so radically different from the purified air of the Temple.
Fat drops of rain began striking his skin, one landing in his eye, making him blink quickly and wipe his face so that he could see. He flinched, recognizing that Vader stood over him now too, studying the change in their surroundings with a sneer.
His growing rage made the Force around them tremble with latent energy, the enormity of his power lifting the hair on Obi-Wan’s arms, the clouds far above growing charged and crackling with electricity.
Obi-Wan quickly moved to escape, and was forcibly stopped with a kick to the stomach. He grunted and curled around the impact, his face landing in the mud. Vader kicked him for a second time, and some of the mud got into his mouth. He spat it out, grimacing.
It had a deeply familiar taste, though it had been long forgotten, it came back with a vivid burst of memory. It was the taste of frustration and grief, of weeks of rain turning a battlefield into a slippery and filthy mess—almost no progress for unbelievably high casualties. The taste of Jabiim.
“This is my memory, not yours.” Vader said harshly, pointed at a hazy line of smoke rising across the ridge. “Do you know what that is?”
Obi-Wan didn’t look closely to answer. He closed his eyes and lay still for the space of a few heartbeats, mustering his strength, breathing through his pain and nausea and trying to get his bearings. The rain felt good, almost too good. He wanted to just lie there forever, let it wash him clean.
“I wish you really had died there,” Vader said spitefully, putting his boot on Obi-Wan’s chest, leaning his weight on his ribs. “I should have been more grateful to be rid of you. Ventress should have done us all a favor.”
Obi-Wan refused to be stepped on, no matter how much his head hurt, no matter how nauseated he was. He squirmed and rolled, pushing at Vader with the Force and leveraging the soft texture of the ground to slide and clamber away. He saw a line of trees nearby, a forest stretching out behind. It would be perfect for cover, if he could get there.
Vader huffed and stumbled back as Obi-Wan’s Force shove unbalanced him, and Obi-Wan bolted as quickly as he could on the uneven ground toward the cover of the trees. His feet slipped and sank into the mud, making running difficult, and he wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, pushing the rain away and running harder.
Vader followed after him, his rage a dark, blazing inferno in the Force, and he increased his pace, darting into the cover of the forest with a gasp of relief. The ground beneath the robust canopy of leaves was densely packed with green-smelling ferns and fallen logs, and it was difficult to see the obstacles in the low light.
The rain was loud as it hit the leaves overhead, a tremulous percussion that mixed with the sound of Obi-Wan’s heavy breathing as he sprinted through the trees. He tugged on the Force, seeking any crack in the dream he could use to escape, any friction or leverage to change it, splitting his attention at the wrong time.
He slid around a large stump, foot catching and turning his ankle on an exposed root, and fell awkwardly against a leather-clad chest. Strong arms wrapping around him, throwing him to the uneven ground, something digging into his back and making him cry out with pain. Sith hells, this nightmare needed to end…
Vader crouched down beside him, breathing hard, eyes alight with vicious satisfaction. “I like that sound you make, Master. It’s the same one you made when I fucked you.”
Obi-Wan pressed his lips together into a thin line. He’d mostly been able to avoid lingering on the memories of what Vader had done, always just refocusing on the next problem to solve, the problem after that, but the way Vader had touched him had stubbornly haunted his free moments.
Vader patted his cheek, patronizing and almost playful, and he flinched away from his touch. “I liked you much better when you were moaning and desperate to come, Master.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No,” Obi-Wan said emphatically, and then grunted with surprise as Vader grabbed him by the tunics, dragging him a few feet over to the wide trunk of a tree. His head still felt woozy, and he almost was sick at the jolting motion as Vader yanked him to his feet.
He struggled weakly as Vader wrapped his hands around the trunk of the tree, holding him still with the Force as he took off his belt, wrapping it carefully around Obi-Wan’s wrists and then fastening it with a click, trapping him in place. He opened and closed his mouth twice, knowing it was pointless to argue, anything he said would only make Vader more furious.
He pulled futilely on his hands, trying to unfasten the belt with the Force, but Vader’s abundant power was keeping that held closed too. Obi-Wan suddenly felt sure that the belt was just backup, a precaution in case his control broke during sex, because he was about to fuck him again. No, he couldn’t. Not again.
Obi-Wan’s body flooded with adrenaline, his heart speeding up, his breathing fast and shallow. He scrabbled at the edges of the nightmare with the Force, feeling so vulnerable and trapped as his face scraped against the rough bark. Nothing he did to escape seemed to work, and he paused his efforts, slumping against the tree, panting with the exertion.
Vader was a warm, looming presence behind him, his arousal an intoxicating, sticky mess in the Force. He stroked his hands possessively down Obi-Wan’s chest to grab his hips and pull them back, swaying out his spine and putting him in such a provocative position that it made Obi-Wan feel like he was burning alive, electricity prickling. He muttered, “Don’t…”
Vader ignored him, making a low noise of satisfaction as he lay the entire length of his long body against Obi-Wan, covering his back with his chest and rubbing his hips against his ass. His cock was already so hard that Obi-Wan could feel it through all the layers between them. It was so unreasonable that he was big on top of everything else.
Obi-Wan’s heart was pounding, his ragged breathing so loud that he barely heard it as Vader put his lips next to his ear, whispering hotly. “I can feel how much you want it, Master.”
“You’re wrong. You’re…” Obi-Wan shuddered as Vader rocked against him, burying his nose against his skin and inhaling deeply. “You’re projecting.”
“Am I?” Vader said suggestively, and one of his hands slid around and reached to stroke Obi-Wan’s cock, and Obi-Wan made a loud noise of protest as Vader squeezed and stroked his cock in a maddeningly gentle way, making him twitch and begin to harden. He fought down a swell of arousal that rose at the contact.
Vader’s voice sounded almost drunk, so husky against his ear, his hand stroking faster as he filled out beneath his palm. “You do want it, Master, but you want me to take it. You won’t give it to me. You never gave me anything I needed.”
The heat of him suddenly disappeared from Obi-Wan’s back, and he felt a swell of hopeless dread as Vader knelt down behind him and slid off first one boot and then the other, putting his bare feet in the cold dirt. He grit his teeth as Vader unfastened his pants and pulled them down, stripping and exposing his lower half, and there was nothing he could do to stop him. “Don’t…”
Vader tugged playfully on Obi-Wan’s exposed cock, and then stroked up behind his balls, his possessiveness had a familiar, insolent quality, simmering with excitement at finally taking something that had been long forbidden, long denied.
“Don’t have any of your precious lube here, Master.” Vader’s voice was raspy and low as he stroked his entrance. “Guess I’ll just have to make do.”
“You could stop.” Vader huffed a laugh at Obi-Wan’s pointed suggestion and shoved Obi-Wan’s feet out wider in response.
Obi-Wan flushed as he felt cool air on his sensitive skin, and Vader’s lust spiking in the Force. He tried to ignore it, but was flooding his subconscious through their bond, making him so vulnerable to emotional manipulation, his cock aching too without his permission. He didn’t want it. He didn’t.
He moaned with surprise when Vader licked between his legs, his tongue was so wet and warm against his entrance, the pressure of it lighting up his nerves and sending a crackle of pleasure to fizz in his brain, cutting off all rational thought. He felt a second lick, even wetter than the first, and curled his toes, hating it.
“I like making you dirty, Master, filthy you up…” Vader spat on him and stroked his fingers through the saliva, circling his rim, his voice raspy and low. “I’m going to come on you, rub it into you, so you can never get clean.”
Obi-Wan groaned as Vader finally shoved one of his fingers inside, just up to the knuckle, teasing his hole, circling and playing with his rim, before fucking in deeper. The stretch of his finger pushed the line from discomfort into pain, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Vader wasn’t being gentle, but he also seemed uninterested in making him bleed.
No, what he was doing was far crueler…
Obi-Wan swallowed, hating how heavy his cock was between his legs, hating how it twitched with pleasure as Vader played with his hole, licking down to suck on his balls. It felt so incredible Obi-Wan almost moaned, but he desperately stopped himself. He didn’t want to sound pleased, and give Vader any cause to gloat over his body’s eager reaction.
Vader bit down hard on the soft curve of one of Obi-Wan’s cheeks punishingly, teeth digging in, and Obi-Wan cried out with pain, but it was mostly a relief for it to hurt again. He bit his lip with frustration as Vader returned to tenderly licking him, sucking more spit into his mouth and generously lapping against the sensitive skin.
Obi-Wan gasped as Vader finally shoved two fingers inside at the same time, intently working his thick knuckles through his tight muscle. He bore down as best he could, waiting for his body to adjust to the intrusion, sucking in shallow breaths which each rough thrust of the fingers deeper inside.
Vader hummed thoughtfully as he fucked his fingers in and out, making sure to circle and stretch his rim, opening him up. His pleasure was a bubbling, sticky pool in the Force around them, and it acted as a positive feedback loop, his possessive satisfaction at having Obi-Wan’s body at his mercy overwhelmingly strong. “Did you wake up with my come sliding out of you?”
Obi-Wan couldn’t stop a moan as Vader found and stroked his prostate, his cock throbbing. He shook his head, scratching his cheek on the bark, trying to keep his head clear. “No.”
“No?” Vader sounded genuinely disappointed, changing the angle of his wrist as he fucked him with his fingers, making sure to avoid touching the best spot again. “Too bad.”
He pulled his fingers out, and Obi-Wan looked back with alarm at the idea of getting fucked already, like this. He wasn’t ready for it, and it was going to hurt. He didn’t want it to hurt, he wanted it to feel nice. No, he didn’t want it at all.
The forest around them was so quiet; there were no animal noises, only the pattering of raindrops on the leafy canopy and Vader’s excited breathing. It was all in his head, it wasn’t real—the entire world of the dream was only as big as the space between their two minds combined, and it was desperately claustrophobic. Vader was smothering him, consuming him.
He swallowed thickly as he heard the rustling sound of Vader opening his pants and pulling out his cock. He was unable to stop himself from looking, glimpsing how Anakin’s cock was just as pretty as it had been before, thick, flushed, and straight beneath some golden curls. Vader’s.
Vader leaned forward against his back again, biting and marking the same place on the side of his neck, making him flinch and kissing the spot with satisfaction. He rubbed the head of his cock from Obi-Wan’s hole down toward his balls and back, teasing his cock against his entrance, his excitement simmering in the Force.
Obi-Wan’s heart pounded, and he hugged the tree tightly, waiting, almost trembling with anticipation—but the moment stretched out without Vader shoving his cock inside, and Obi-Wan didn’t understand what he was waiting for.
He made a surprised noise as the warm, blunt pressure of Vader’s cock disappeared and his narrow fingertips returned, the sting of being roughly penetrated with his fingers alone still enough to make him gasp and flinch. Vader fucked his fingers in and out quickly, and then spread them apart wide, creating an open space.
Obi-Wan could tell Vader was looking at him, inside him, and he hated being so exposed, so vulnerable beneath him. He heard Vader spit into his palm again, felt him kick his legs further apart, and expected a rough fuck, it had to be coming. Anakin was so impatient, he wouldn’t wait. Could he take it? He had to, had to take it.
His cock throbbed, and he felt a flash of self loathing at being turned on by that idea. He didn’t want it. He didn’t…
The sound of Vader jerking his own cock off quickly made Obi-Wan’s brow furrow with confusion, and he opened his eyes and looked back as best he could, just in time to see Vader’s eyes squeeze closed with pleasure as he pressed the head of his cock against Obi-Wan’s hole, slightly inside it, and then came with a loud, low moan.
Obi-Wan’s cock twitched as he felt the strength of Vader’s orgasm in the Force, his come filling Obi-Wan up and then beginning to spill, only some of it made it inside the opening between Vader’s fingers, the rest dripping out sloppily, sliding down and getting on his balls, dripping to the forest floor.
“There,” Vader said, sounding winded and satisfied, collecting the mess with his fingers and shoving it inside Obi-Wan’s hole as best he could, making Obi-Wan moan, cleaning him up. No, not clean, so far from clean, he’d never be clean again.
“Now you’re filthy,” Vader seemed to agree with him, and spat on his hole again, fucking him with his fingers. He sounded mesmerized, promising intently. “When I catch you, Obi-Wan, I’m going to keep you so dirty.”
Obi-Wan shuddered, cock throbbing. “Don’t you want to kill me?”
“I’ll tell everyone you died,” Vader said certainly, and it turned Obi-Wan’s stomach. There was a husky, seductive quality to his words, in Anakin’s voice, and it confused Obi-Wan’s brain, his cock aching with arousal as Vader murmured, “You’d never leave again, so what’s the difference? Don’t you want to belong to me, Master? I can even make sure you enjoy it, some of the time.”
Obi-Wan swallowed a groan as Vader began to finger him again more roughly, and he hated how he could hear how wet his skin was with Vader’s come, and how it felt so good for Vader to touch him.
Vader’s smile was audible and unkind. “You wanted me to fuck you just now so much, but you’ll have to wait. I’m not done with you.”
“Please, just…” Obi-Wan said, despite knowing he shouldn’t bother. “Just kill me, you don’t need to—”
“Stop lying, Master. You love this, I can feel it.”
“You’re wrong,” Obi-Wan insisted, biting his lip as Vader’s hand, wet with come and saliva, tugged on his leaking cock. He refused to make a sound, the trembling waves of pleasure mixed with pain lighting up his brain. “I don’t… you’re wrong.”
“Am I?” Vader roughly grabbed Obi-Wan’s cheeks with both hands, squeezing and pulling them apart, licking his warm, wet tongue against the hole he just came inside.
Obi-Wan moaned. “What are you…?”
Vader’s hands wrapped around Obi-Wan’s thighs and pulled them farther apart, licking roughly around his rim, up from his balls, collecting any remaining come and pushing it inside.
Obi-Wan hated the wet sound of it, and how good it felt. He moaned so loudly, feeling so close to orgasm as Vader pushed two fingers back inside, replacing his tongue, and moved his mouth down to suck on his balls as he opened him up more, his other hand stroking his cock.
Vader’s fingers felt so good as they fucked him open, how dare they feel so good?
Obi-Wan instinctively bore down on them, his body making the mistake of rolling his hips back to take it, and Vader laughed cruelly, pulling his mouth away and spanking his ass hard. “I told you, you wanted it, you’re such a greedy little schutta, Master.”
“I’m not…”
Vader just licked more saliva into Obi-Wan’s open hole before shoving in his thick fingers, forcing in two, and then three, a little happy sigh as he took them easily. “So easy, Master.”
Obi-Wan moaned loudly as Vader began fucking him with them faster, opening him up much less gently, his mouth returned to driving Obi-Wan insane with gentle little licks. He squeezed the tree trunk, hugging it for stability, taking so much of Vader’s hand as it slapped inside with a filthy wet sound.
Obi-Wan hated how quickly began to feel very good for Vader to roughly fuck him open like this, quickly jerking his cock, an orgasm building, his breathing quick as he tried to fight it. He opened up too easily, took it too easily, why was he allowing this?
Vader found and pressed down on the sensitive nerves of his prostate, finally stroking the spot that he’d mostly been avoiding on purpose. Obi-Wan moaned wantonly, hips rolling back for more, feeling close to the edge. Could he really come like his, just from Vader using his come to finger him open? Yes, he could. He didn’t want to, he didn’t want it. He almost threw himself on a lightsaber to avoid it, but it felt so good.
He struggled to keep his mouth shut as his orgasm approached, not wanting Vader to have the satisfaction of hearing any more of his pleasure.
His balls were so tight, he could almost feel the first waves of release as Vader deliberately fucked his fingers in and out, enjoying the sloppy noise it made. Obi-Wan bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, and almost cried out with frustration as Vader pulled his hand away, slipping out his fingers and denying him an orgasm.
“Sorry, Master,” Vader sounded so pleased with himself, and it made Obi-Wan scowl, his teeth clenched painfully, head aching with tension as the waves of orgasm ebbed away. “You’re only going to come when I’m inside you.”
Obi-Wan flinched as Vader bit his inner thigh, his tone both threatening and playful. “I’d fuck you now, but I’m not ready. I have an idea first, something I thought of sometimes…”
Obi-Wan didn’t like the sound of that at all. He actually had a very bad feeling about it. He struggled to turn his face to see what Vader was doing and blanched with horror as he saw him spitting more into his palm and rubbing it on the base of the hilt of his lightsaber, getting it wet. “What are you—”
Vader just smiled at him mercilessly, his eyes so black with desire that the awful yellow ring around the edge was almost swallowed up by it. His attention was far too intense, too possessive, and Obi-Wan couldn’t look away as he said, “I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time, Master.”
Obi-Wan spluttered with indignation, fully aware he was talking to a man who had recently tried to burn him alive, so happy to see him hurt, but he didn’t want it to hurt. “You can’t seriously—”
“Why not? I know you can take it.”
“I can’t!”
Vader smirked nastily, tapping the wet hilt against his palm. “Maybe you should be grateful I’m not fucking you with the other end, and then turning it on, Master.”
Obi-Wan felt sick, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. “It’s too big.”
Vader rolled his eyes, tone dismissive. “It’s the lightsaber I had before the war, the grip is slimmer, the ridges are smoother.” He shoved it in his face, forcing Obi-Wan to look. “I fucked myself with it all the time.”
Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped, his mind flooded by a kaleidoscopic visual he didn’t want to see. “You did what?”
Vader laughed at the way Obi-Wan’s cock had twitched, his unwilling pulse of desire hot in the Force. “You like that? You want to know more about all the times your Padawan fucked himself open on his saber while you were in the next room?”
“What? Why did—”
“I told you, Master,” Vader said, standing up and leaning close, his voice low, melodic, and absolutely furious against his ear. “Anakin would have loved for you to fuck him. He thought about it all the time. Wanted you to walk in on me, tell me it wasn’t safe, fuck me yourself…”
“Anakin—”
Vader bit the side of his neck hard enough to draw blood, his voice harsh as Obi-Wan groaned with pain. “Anakin’s dead. I killed him. And I’ve thought about finding you, bending you over, and making you cry for years, Master.”
Obi-Wan bit down hard on his bottom lip, furious at himself for saying the name—it hurt in a deep way, beyond any mere physical pain. Anakin…
He felt the cool metal of the hilt touch his hole, and hugged the tree harder, pressing his cheek against the rough bark, relaxing his entire lower body, letting his legs slide wider open.
Vader scoffed, spreading his cheeks with one hand, stroking and teasing him with the hilt, a jealous, hateful edge to his voice. “All the other men who’ve fucked you have trained you so well, Master.”
Obi-Wan felt a spike of anger that he immediately backed away from, wary of the intensity of it, and Vader smiled as though he’d felt it, pushing the end of his hilt against and then through the tight muscle of Obi-Wan’s entrance, opening him up and making him take it. Oh, Force.
Obi-Wan made a low, pained noise, eyes closing and mouth falling open, bearing down as best he could. The hilt was bigger around than Vader’s fingers had been, the hard metal felt impossibly thick and unforgiving, but he wasn’t getting ripped open either, like he’d half-expected.
He groaned as Vader pulled the hilt back and then pushed it in again with even more force, and had to remind himself to breathe through it. He made a pained noise as Vader sped up, his spit and come easing the way until it was fucking deep inside, far deeper than his fingers had reached.
His mind was suddenly filled by Vader’s mind pushing over an image, showing him what he looked like bent over like this, Vader fucking his hilt in another inch deeper. The image was beyond embarrassing, but it also came with an accompanying nuclear detonation of Vader’s arousal in Obi-Wan’s mind, overwhelming him with how pleased Vader was by what he saw.
Obi-Wan’s cock twitched, hardening fully again, and he desperately fought his mind’s urge to match and harmonize with Vader’s wave of desire. Vader’s possessive satisfaction was too overwhelming. He liked so much to see his Master taking his saber; he’d apparently wanted to do this so much, for so long.
He rolled his wrist, twisting the hilt, and the ridges made Obi-Wan yelp with a twinge of pain as it fucked deep, so Vader did it again, and Obi-Wan just whimpered and took it. All of his resistance had finally broken to being using like this, and he went limp against the tree.
Vader slowed down, savoring what he looked like with a few final slow, sharp thrusts, each of which forced little pained moans from Obi-Wan’s lips. “Good, Master, perfect, just like that.”
He pulled the hilt out, and the sensation was just as overwhelming as when he first put it in. Obi-Wan moaned weakly, biting down on his bottom lip and feeling a flare of pain. He tasted metal, a sharp reminder that he’d already broken the skin with his teeth. He shivered, so hyperaware of cool air on his inflamed skin.
Vader made the saber disappear and leaned against him, looming against his back like he had at the beginning, rubbing the length of his cock on his abused hole. “Do you want more of my come, Obi-Wan? Do you want to come on my cock?”
Obi-Wan just shuddered, and cringed as he felt Vader’s tongue on his chin, licking up to the corner of his mouth. He made a pleased sound, biting his jawline and rubbing his hips against his ass again, cock sliding between his legs, pleasure radiating in the Force at the taste of his blood. “You’re spoiling me, Master.”
“That’s… disgusting.” Uncivilized.
Vader seemed pleased at his response and he reached down, lining up his cock and pressing the head through Obi-Wan’s stretched out hole, easily sinking inside and thrusting in deep, filling him up. Obi-Wan’s breath caught, and he swallowed a loud, pained whine as he took it.
Vader groaned deeply with satisfaction, grabbing Obi-Wan’s hair to bend his neck back to access his face. He kissed him roughly, biting down hard on his bottom lip and licking it, tasting his cut again as he began fucking him, short, sharp little thrusts that sped up, the slapping sound of it was all Obi-Wan could hear.
The hilt of Anakin’s lightsaber had been too big, and it had hurt too much, but it left a space inside that felt designed for Vader to fit perfectly—his cock was smooth and warm, just the right size, and Obi-Wan could somehow relax down on it, against it, and take it easily. Anakin’s cock was so perfect, it felt so good, it was making him tremble and whimper as he got fucked, Anakin’s tongue in his mouth, kissing him like he was consuming him.
The heavy sound of their combined breathing, the pounding sound of Obi-Wan’s heartbeat, Vader’s little pleased grunts as he fucked him harder, it was all overwhelming, driving him close to the edge too fast. Vader seemed to agree, breaking the kiss to gasp, his hands squeezing Obi-Wan’s hips. “Take me so well, Master.”
Obi-Wan groaned as Vader slowed down, snapping his hips forward smoothly, crushing him between his chest and the tree as he buried himself inside, over and over. Vader pulled his hair as he sloppily kissed him, owning his mouth with his tongue, making him open up and take it there too. He gave Obi-Wan’s bloody lip one last, greedy suck before moving down to bite his way down his neck, his hips speeding up, balls slapping against him, making his knees feel weak.
He’d gone completely limp against the tree as Vader took him, all he could do was take it. Vader circled his hips, finding the perfect angle to hit Obi-Wan’s prostate by listening to the noises he made, and then began to fuck against it with relentless, perfect strokes, his hand jumping to begin jerking Obi-Wan off, finally giving his cock the pressure he needed.
He spoke, and Anakin’s voice was so husky and possessive, just right, and like molten heat sliding down Obi-Wan’s spine to pool in his gut. “You’re going to come on my cock again, Master, you love it…”
“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head, scraping his cheek on the bark, his hips pushing back despite himself as he came close to the edge. Anakin’s hand was so perfect on his cock, the pressure so good, stroking him just right. The overwhelming scent of Anakin’s sweat, the sound of his pleased, rough breaths, the feeling of his cock hitting him just right, once more, yes.
He moaned loudly, falling into his orgasm with relief, letting it rush through him. His cock pulsed, streaks of his come hitting the tree and the ground, and Vader brought his fingers up to his mouth to taste on Obi-Wan’s come with a pleased groan. “Yes, Master.”
He followed Obi-Wan quickly over the edge, hips jerking with one last, rough thrust inside before he came for a second time. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s chest, clutching him tight and coming deep inside him, hugging him close for a long moment as everything went still, nuzzling his face into Obi-Wan’s neck and whining quietly with relief.
Obi-Wan struggled to breathe, and he made a pained noise as Vader slipped out, shuddering as he felt Vader’s come dripping down his inner thighs. His feet were dirty and cold, and he felt filthy with sweat, covered in Vader’s spit and come. He’d never feel clean, never…
Vader stepped back, and Obi-Wan heard the soft sounds of him pulling up his pants and tucking himself away. He released Obi-Wan’s hands and turned him around, propping him against the tree and kissing his forehead, almost asking permission, something Obi-Wan wouldn’t give him. He closed his eyes as Vader’s hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing him tight and cutting off his air.
“See you again soon, Master.”
Darkness was a welcome relief as Obi-Wan's breath left his body. He instinctively struggled for a moment against the pain before letting go, accepting it and falling back into the embrace of unconsciousness. The last sensation he felt was another kiss, like a promise, and an overwhelming sense of uncleanness.
He jerked awake, the face of a stranger concerned above him, shaking his shoulder. He recoiled from her touch, and the woman raised her hands in an unarmed gesture. Obi-Wan looked around the quiet, dark shuttle filled with the other passengers, none of whom seemed to have noticed anything strange, catching his breath, heart pounding.
“It looked like a bad dream,” the woman said kindly. “Wouldn’t want to wake the little one.”
She tipped her head to the side, and Obi-Wan looked beside him to see Leia asleep, curled up in a cloak, comfortable and safe. He exhaled hard with relief to see her, and he gave the woman a grateful smile. She moved on, and he leaned back, putting his face in his hands, trying to separate himself from what had just happened.
Vader was coming after him, he would never stop.
He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. More sleep seemed ill-advised, so he sat back, reaching deep into his memory to hear the voice of his creche master, all those years ago as a very small boy, guiding him into a simple meditation. His breathing slowed, his eyes falling closed, and he allowed the peace of the galaxy to flow through him, a small part of a larger whole.
He didn't have a solution at hand for if their dreams remained entangled, but he had hope and purpose. He would find a way to make him stop if it continued, by any means necessary. He would make him stop.