Obikin Kaleidoscope | Prompted AUs

“Padawan, come sit down and complete the mission report.”

“No,” Anakin said, a bit too sharply, closing the door to their quarters behind him.

Obi-Wan’s voice was level. “Excuse me?”

Anakin shook his head and moved directly to their small kitchen. He poured a glass of water, drained it in several long gulps, and then gasped loudly for air. He’d just had a hard workout and had been mostly exhausted by it, but then just now he’d been hit by a bolt of panic when he saw Obi-Wan sitting at the dining table. Obi-Wan was supposed to be working on that important stupid analysis for the Council! In the archives! 

It was apparently a mistake to have come back to their shared rooms—Anakin needed to not be here. He needed to be anywhere except near Obi-Wan’s stupid, soft shirt, his exposed, freckled collarbone, and his damp, messy hair. Obi-Wan looked cozy and he looked furious. Anakin was suddenly too warm, he was vibrating with energy, and he was aroused. He needed to leave quickly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes had remained fixed on his data pad as Anakin rustled around him, and he noted warily that Obi-Wan’s body language was very tense, and that the piles of reports on the small dining table were very tall. He nervously examined Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force, and it was completely contained, completely blank. Anakin’s breathing sped up with anxiety, and he hurried up his movements. If Obi-Wan was already angry, Anakin knew he would have a lot of trouble thinking clearly if interrogated. 

When Anakin’s silence stretched too long, Obi-Wan said in an even milder voice, “…Padawan?” Anakin cringed. He swallowed when Obi-Wan calmly placed his data pad on top of one of the stacks on the table. “I cannot have heard you correctly.” 

Anakin pursed his lips, pouring more water. “No, Master.”

“That is marginally better.” Obi-Wan’s gaze was on him now. “It does not, however, address the key issue.”

“Whatever, Master.” Anakin’s panic and arousal was making him feel hot and defensive, and Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. Anakin set his cup down hard and turned to rummage through the cabinets for snacks, which was the reason he had returned in the first place. He thought Obi-Wan would be gone. He muttered, “I cannot possibly have to write this up. I had nothing to do with it! I was just there.”

“Were you even paying attention, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked like there was a right answer, and he did not expect to hear it. “Or were you paying attention to something else?” 

Anakin rolled his eyes, pushing boxes aside, looking for his favorite flavor of veg-meat. “I was paying attention.” He smiled triumphantly when he found it, ripped it out of its packaging, threw it in the nanowave and began to bounce on the balls of his feet as it reheated. Obi-Wan needed to let him go spar, go outside, go away.

“Then the mission report should be easy.” Anakin clenched his jaw at Obi-Wan's slightly patronizing tone, trying to keep his arousal from leaking out into the Force. Kriff, he was messed up in the head. He knew that Obi-Wan was not going to let him get away, his voice was relentless. “It is not supposed to be excessively detailed, Anakin. It is merely a record of the outline of events. You cannot possibly have forgotten those.” 

“Let me do it later, alright?” Anakin asked over his shoulder, exasperated. He jumped slightly when the ding of his timer notified him that his food was ready. He turned and began to eat it quickly over the sink.

“No, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s tone was final. “You need to get this done, and I see no compelling reason that this is an inappropriate time.”

Anakin whined, and then took a bite, speaking with his mouth full. “I need to move, or do something! I can’t sit still.” 

“You will try,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin heard the danger in the tone. He knew not to push it. He took another large bite, and felt Obi-Wan’s glare at his loud chewing noises. Anakin swallowed. He just didn’t want to sit by Obi-Wan, didn’t want to sit close enough to smell him, the tea he was drinking, the scent of his freshly washed hair. It was still damp. Anakin couldn’t do that. “Master, please.”

Obi-Wan stood up slowly. “I need a reason, Padawan. Why are you being like this?” 

Anakin looked over, eyes flicking from Obi-Wan’s soft shirt to his lounge pants. The clothes clung to the shape of his strong, lean body. It was so much easier to look at Obi-Wan when he was wrapped in about fourteen layers of robe. Even then, it was hard. His stupid Master was so young, and looked basically the same as he did when he first met him, except now his soft copper hair was long enough to glow like a halo in a stupidly appealing way, and he had a stupid, smooth-looking beard. Anakin wanted to touch his beard, very badly. He flushed at the idea of stroking it.

Obi-Wan was approaching him with an empty mug and a deceptively mild expression. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Anakin still somehow felt cornered.

He began babbling, backing up slightly, “I just have too much energy—” He looked at the door and back, desperately, “—Please let me go burn it off, and I’ll come back. I’ll do it then, I promise. Just let me go now, please, Master.” He began edging around the kitchen, towards the door, keeping a fixed distance from Obi-Wan moving to the sink. “It won’t even take that long, I promise.”

Obi-Wan watched him cooly, eyes tracking Anakin’s unsubtle attempt to leave the kitchen. He set the mug down, with a firm clunk. “You had your lightsaber sparring course all afternoon. You are still sweaty. How can you possibly need to move this badly?”

“Just have lots of energy!” Anakin forced an unsuccessful laugh. “Lots and lots!” He was almost at the door. He turned to leave, feeling with a sinking sensation in his stomach that Obi-Wan was closing in on his back.

“Stop, now.” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked like a whip and Anakin cringed. He stopped, his breath quick and shaky. 

Obi-Wan reached out and grabbed the back of his tunic, pulled him back, turning him around. Anakin did not resist. There was no point—they were going to have a conversation, and apparently they were going to have it now. Obi-Wan was studying his face, so Anakin tried as hard as possible to keep it blank, keep his arousal hidden. 

“You will tell me what is going on, Padawan.” Obi-Wan spoke forcefully, but there was concern in his frustrated blue eyes. Anakin could smell the scent of his favorite tea on his breath, and he felt lightheaded. Obi-Wan’s tone demanded an explanation. “You have been acting strangely. Did something happen?” 

Anakin swallowed and looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder at the opposite wall. He was thinking as hard as he could about a way to say what he had to say while avoiding what he really meant. He couldn’t look at Obi-Wan and do that—his mind always stopped working when he looked at his Master.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s hand came up and rested on his shoulder, squeezing gently as a reassurance, while his voice was firm. “Padawan.” Anakin swallowed again, trying not to tense. Obi-Wan frowned slightly and removed his hand. “You are radiating in the Force with how uncomfortable you are.” 

Anakin scowled briefly and attempted to firm up his control over his presence in the Force. “Sorry, Master.”

“Don’t apologize.” The concerned look was more intense than ever. Anakin could suddenly feel Obi-Wan’s stress radiating in the Force. It made him feel sick. He hated contributing to it; his Master already was weighed down by many responsibilities. Anakin’s issues weren’t worth Obi-Wan’s precious time and energy. “Explain, please.” Obi-Wan’s tone gave no room for excuses.

Anakin stuttered slightly, “I… I can’t. It is nothing I can’t handle, I just need to go running now. It’s nothing.” 

“It is so obviously not nothing that I am astonished that you continue to try to evade me on this.” Obi-Wan looked incredulous and frustrated. “I fail to understand why you won’t simply explain.” His voice was getting louder, and Anakin’s eyes widened. 

“I can’t talk to you about this!” Anakin’s voice was panicked. “I will handle it, Master, please, just let me go.” 

Obi-Wan advanced slightly, his eyes intense, and Anakin retreated, his back hitting a counter. “Stop this, now. We need to resolve this, Anakin.”  

“We really don’t.” Anakin’s voice was weak. Obi-Wan was very close to him, and was looking at him closely. Obi-Wan was too close. Anakin could smell his hair, and swallowed down his arousal, whispering, “I will handle it.”

Obi-Wan sighed and tried to relax his posture. He refocused on Anakin, eyes searching. “You don’t have to, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a caress now. Warm and low. “I’m here for you.”

Anakin wanted to punch him, kiss him, run away. He couldn’t handle that tone. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Obi-Wan stepped a little closer to hear his whisper. Anakin was hyperaware of the narrowing distance between their bodies; it felt full of electric charge to him, and made his nerves tingle with proximity. Obi-Wan’s question was earnest, his eyes searching. “Don’t help?”

“Yes,” Anakin whispered, tensing as if to flee. Obi-Wan put his hand back on his shoulder, and Anakin froze. He breathed, “Please don’t help.”

“Force sake, Padawan. Why?” Obi-Wan had stretched his neck and cocked his head slightly, drawing his ear nearer to Anakin’s mouth to catch his whisper, and when he spoke his voice was very gentle. “You are unhappy, anyone can see that.” Anakin grimaced. Obi-Wan tracked the motion and looked him back in the eye, concerned. “You’re my Padawan, Anakin. Let me help. It’s what I’m here for.”

“No, it isn’t! Not with this!” The words slipped loudly out of Anakin’s mouth, and Obi-Wan’s head jerked back minutely. Anakin tried to leave, and Obi-Wan frowned, squeezing his grip on Anakin’s shoulder to hold him in place.

“You’re—” Anakin began, before cutting himself off abruptly. 

“I’m what, Anakin? Why can’t I help?” Anakin could tell he was pushing on the limits of Obi-Wan’s patience. He didn’t know what else to do. He slumped back against the kitchen counter, Obi-Wan’s grip pulling him closer with the motion, and tried desperately not to breathe in his scent. Anakin’s eyes were stuck on the smooth skin of Obi-Wan’s collarbone that was exposed by the shirt’s wide neck. He wanted to suck on his freckles so badly it hurt. He clenched his fists hard and released them, trying to find words to explain.

“I’m having trouble with parts of the Code, alright?” Anakin said finally, looking down. “I’ll figure it out. I just need to not be here right now.”

“You aren’t comfortable in your own rooms?” Obi-Wan’s voice carried his frown, and Anakin closed his eyes. “Or you aren’t comfortable with me.” Obi-Wan said the last part as if he was realizing it at the same time. He removed his hand from Anakin’s shoulder. He sounded almost hurt. “Why?”

Anakin shook his head. “It’s not your fault, you’re fine.”

Obi-Wan shook his head too, stepping back. “That’s not true, Anakin. I can feel the lie in the Force.” He looked hurt, now. “I just wanted to help. I’m sorry for pushing.” Anakin watched Obi-Wan's fists clench and unclench, and felt his presence in the Force spike with insecurity and pained frustration.

Anakin felt awful. “Don’t apologize, I didn’t mean it like that! You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Obi-Wan looked defeated and was still moving backwards. His voice was flat. “Why, then? I must have done something. I thought things were going rather well.” His shoulders dropped as he looked at the floor, obviously thinking hard.

“They are.” Anakin said emphatically. He wanted so badly for Obi-Wan to not be offended, not to add to his stress. “They are going well. You’re great.” Obi-Wan looked back up at him, and he finished weakly. “You’re the best.”

“But you don’t want my help.” Obi-Wan said, furrowing his brow in vexed confusion.

Anakin was so deeply apologetic. “No, Master... I don’t.”

Obi-Wan looked momentarily crestfallen before running a hand over his beard, smoothing out his face.  “Just… get the report done by the end of today, Anakin. Please.” He turned to go, and Anakin could feel confusion and self-loathing coming off of him in waves, and it made something inside him crack.

“I want you, alright?” Obi-Wan stopped. “I’m dealing with it, but sometimes it’s torture to be around you.” Anakin spoke quickly, to get this over with. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re perfect.” He blushed at saying that. “It’s me, I’m the problem.” 

Obi-Wan still hadn’t turned around, but he hadn’t left either. His presence in the Force was completely hidden. Anakin began to truly babble, “Just let me deal with it. I promise, I’m figuring it out! I just need to go for a run right now, and I’ll do my assignment. Nothing needs to change! I’m sorry I had to tell you, I didn’t want you to know! I didn’t want to bother you! I don’t know why I can’t stop, I’m so sorry! I don’t—”

Obi-Wan finally turned around. Anakin cut himself off, breathing hard. He tried to read Obi-Wan’s face, and couldn’t; Obi-Wan had his Council face on, the one that hid everything about who he really was. He looked like a Jedi, even in his pajamas. Anakin swallowed and looked at the floor. His own face was burning. 

“You’re dealing with it.” Obi-Wan’s voice was slow.

Anakin nodded vigorously, eyes fixed on the floor, speaking fast, “Yes! You can forget this ever happened, I promise! Soon! I’ll be normal!”

“You told me, not two days ago, that I am the closest thing you have to a father.” Obi-Wan sounded like he was interviewing a resistant witness. “Was that a lie?” 

“You don’t remember what I said right before I said that, do you.” Anakin breathed out sharply, relieved. He pushed off the counter and made for the kitchen door, trying to slide past Obi-Wan, moving quickly and speaking rapidly. “Ignore that whole conversation, please, it was—”

“You said that you loved me.” Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s arm as he tried to slide past him, and shot him a pointed look. “Do you imagine that I had forgotten that?”

“I’d… hoped…” Anakin said weakly, eyes dropping to the floor again. He hadn’t meant to say it, it had just slipped out. He'd tried to cover it up, and Obi-Wan had bought it. Until now, apparently. Anakin was hypersensitive to the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hand on his arm. He swallowed and then met Obi-Wan’s eyes guiltily.

Obi-Wan’s tone was forbidding. “I had not forgotten that, no.” He squeezed harder and then sighed and let go, speaking in his most deliberately authoritative tone, “You are my Padawan, Anakin. This will pass in time.”

Anakin whined, “It hasn’t, though,” and Obi-Wan stiffened slightly. 

“What do you mean by that?” Obi-Wan asked carefully. They were still standing very close.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin offered meekly. Obi-Wan kept staring, and Anakin muttered, feeling exposed, “I just… can’t stop. I’ve tried, Master, nothing I do ever changes how I feel. I’ve tried everything. All I can do is run it off.” Anakin felt like he was falling. He couldn’t read the emotion in Obi-Wan’s eyes at all but it trapped and held him. He decided to be honest, and he licked his lips and squared his shoulders, dropping all his efforts to hide himself in the Force—allowing the truth of his desire to radiate out around him.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened slightly. There was a long pause where Anakin watched the minute signals on Obi-Wan’s face that he was processing the information that his Padawan very badly wanted to fuck.

“I have had an extremely long day, Padawan,” Obi-Wan eventually said slowly. He stepped back slightly, shaking his head. “I cannot handle this right now.”

“Okay, of course, Master. I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin murmured, pulling back and raising his shields. “I was just trying to explain why it’s not your fault you can’t help me.” 

They stood there for a charged moment before a thought occurred to Anakin. A spike of arousal made him feel light-headed, and the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Can I help you?” It felt like the world had tilted on its axis. It all made sense, now. His voice came out deeper than he expected. “Master, let me help.”

“What?” Obi-Wan said flatly.

Anakin was growing flushed with the thoughts rushing through his head, his arousal making him feel dizzy. His eyes flicked between Obi-Wan’s, trying to read him. He hadn’t left, he hadn’t been disgusted. Why hadn’t he left?

“You’re so stressed, Master,” Anakin murmured. He stepped forward into the space Obi-Wan had vacated. His hands twitched but he resisted the impulse to touch, as always. He looked earnestly into Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I hate to see you stressed.”

“Yes, I am extraordinarily stressed.” Obi-Wan’s posture was upright, his face still blank, voice a warning. He had stayed perfectly still as Anakin advanced. “I am not in a particularly good mood, Padawan, don’t push it.”

Anakin took a deep shaky breath and sunk to his knees at Obi-Wan’s feet, looking up, keeping eye contact. He let his desire radiate back into the Force, letting Obi-Wan know that he would do anything to make him feel better—how much he wanted to take Obi-Wan’s frustration and anger, how much he needed Obi-Wan to give it to him. 

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched and nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath, catching Anakin’s thoughts in the Force. He looked down at Anakin intently, eyes searching, his hand eventually floating, almost absently, to grasp Anakin’s Padawan braid. It slipped through his fingers as he looked at it thoughtfully.  Anakin’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears, his breath shaky. Obi-Wan seemed to be inspecting his braid, his hand sliding down it, measuring the length, feeling all the beads.

Anakin whined; Obi-Wan was holding him, holding the part of Anakin that belonged entirely to them. Anakin’s chest was fluttering, he felt so hot, his mouth so wet.  Obi-Wan suddenly pulled on the braid, hard. Anakin sucked in a breath and held back a moan. 

“I am not in a good mood, Padawan,” Obi-Wan repeated, his voice was still level. “I can’t be particularly sweet and kind with you, not right now.”

“I don’t want that anyway,” Anakin breathed and looked up earnestly. “I want you to feel better.” He licked his lips and opened his mouth, showing Obi-Wan his tongue before looking down at the growing outline of cock visible in Obi-Wan’s soft pants and back up. “Please, Master…”

Obi-Wan jerked painfully on his braid at the word ‘Master,’ and he wound it around his hand, his other hand coming down to grab Anakin’s ponytail, pulling his head back and examining his face. Anakin let his mouth fall open again, his cock twitching, relaxing completely into Obi-Wan’s grip. He was no longer shielding himself in the Force at all, his desire radiating out as he showed his Master his tongue. Obi-Wan blinked down at him for a long moment, and Anakin watched avidly as Obi-Wan made a decision, his mask finally, finally cracking. Kriff.

Obi-Wan smirked slightly, eyes glinting, and then he spit in Anakin’s open mouth. “Don’t swallow that, Padawan.”

Anakin whined, his cock throbbing almost painfully. He relaxed his jaw, opening his mouth further, showing Obi-Wan that he was keeping his spit on his tongue. Obi-Wan nodded, and roughly released his ponytail and pulled his cock out of his pants. It was fully hard now, long and thick. Anakin moaned again at the sight of it, and Obi-Wan yanked on his braid to position his head, and used his other hand to guide his cock between Anakin’s lips and onto his tongue. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and Anakin closed his lips and sucked, looking up for validation. Obi-Wan hummed neutrally and returned his hand to Anakin’s small ponytail. He fucked his cock deep into Anakin’s mouth, down the back of his throat, pulling his face up close to his pelvis using his grip on his hair, thrusting his hips forward hard. Anakin choked and gagged loudly, and Obi-Wan just fucked his cock in again harder, deeper, ignoring his discomfort. Why would he notice, when Anakin's happiness was radiating in the Force like champagne in sunlight.

“Is this what you wanted, Padawan?" Anakin moaned around his cock, and Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. "You want me to use you like this?” He fucked into his face again, and Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut, his cock throbbing. Obi-Wan’s cock was so thick, it was filling his mouth, pushing down the back of his throat, fucking further and further in. It was everything Anakin had ever dreamed it could be. 

Obi-Wan finally used Anakin’s hair to pull his head back, sliding his cock all the way out of his mouth. Anakin gasped for air, panting, mouth still open, chest heaving. “Yes, Master, yes, please, again—”

Anakin’s begging was cut off by Obi-Wan’s cock, and Obi-Wan laughed roughly. “I’ve wanted to do that.” He fucked his hips forward, thrusting deep in Anakin’s throat, smirking with pleasure as he began to slide his cock in and out along his tongue, moving Anakin’s head with his hold on his hair, using Anakin’s mouth exactly how he wanted. “I've wanted to shove my cock in your mouth, shut you up.” He let Anakin breathe and whine for a moment before thrusting in again and smirking. “Stop that ceaseless, insolent whining.”

Obi-Wan was now holding his weight up by the hair, and Anakin was completely limp on his knees, his lips slick with drool, letting Obi-Wan fuck his mouth and feeling so grateful, so happy for it. He had stopped gagging, relaxing into it and taking it perfectly. He looked up hopefully at Obi-Wan’s face, and Obi-Wan smiled down at him, and then pulled hard on his hair to move his head into a better angle. Anakin hummed in pleasure around his cock, and Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward hard and fast. 

Obi-Wan suddenly pulled all the way out and seemed to appreciate the sight of drool stretching from Anakin’s shiny lips to the tip of his cock. Anakin gasped for air, eyes begging for more, so Obi-Wan gave it to him, thrusting back in. Anakin loved the rapt expression on Obi-Wan’s face as he slid his cock between Anakin’s lips, the focused release of frustration, the pounding rhythm of him fucking his throat. He wanted him to fuck him in the ass, please, Force, just like this.

“My cock’s nice and wet, now, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, his voice a low rumble. “You made me nice and wet.” He pulled Anakin’s face off his cock roughly, releasing him entirely, dropping him—almost shoving him back. Anakin slumped back to the ground, looking up, panting. His cock was impossibly hard, he’d never been this hard in his entire life. He almost came just from Obi-Wan using his mouth. It felt so good to be useful. Obi-Wan was rubbing his cock absently, looking down at him with intent.

“Turn over.” Obi-Wan’s voice was cool and precise, and Anakin clung to it—he struggled to obey, he felt shaky and dazed, getting on his hands and knees on the hard surface of the kitchen. “Take off your clothes.”

Anakin clumsily stripped off his sweaty exercise clothes while remaining on hands and knees, his chest still heaving, mouth still slick with drool and precome. Obi-Wan was stripping too, kneeling down behind him, pulling his legs further apart roughly, and shoving his head down and away. Anakin moaned loudly at the feeling of fingers suddenly circling his entrance, teasing him. He looked back over his shoulder to see Obi-Wan holding a hand up, using the Force to summon a small bottle. It slapped into his palm and he looked back at Anakin, catching his gaze.

“Forehead to the floor, Padawan.”

Anakin gulped and obeyed, straightening out and pressing his fevered forehead against the cool floor, lowering to his elbows. He swayed his back, exposing himself further, and Obi-Wan made a low, approving noise. "Good, very good. Stay like this, do not move.” Slick fingers began opening him up, and Anakin whined. He rocked his hips slightly and Obi-Wan swatted him. “You never listen to me, Padawan.” He swatted him again, the smack loud in the quiet kitchen. “You never just do as you are told.”

“I’m so sorry, Master. I want to be good for you, I do, I want to be good,” Anakin murmured against the floor, and then whined at another smack. There were two fingers sliding in and out of his slick hole now, pressing down and finding a spot that made him cry out, his hard cock jerking and his hips rocking back, a spike of pleasure almost overwhelming him. Obi-Wan swatted him again, and Anakin slurred, sounded almost intoxicated. “I’m sorry, Master, I want to be good, I want to be so good for you.”

“Liar,” Obi-Wan said darkly and smacked him again harder. “You always do exactly as you please. You never listen.”

Anakin whined as three fingers entered him unexpectedly, the stretch was all he could feel, it was so intense, so consuming. He moaned as the fingers began fucking him hard, and he instinctively adjusted to them, his back swaying, presenting his ass completely. Obi-Wan hummed and said, “I suppose you’re nearly ready to be fucked.” Anakin gasped as the fingers were pulled out. “So I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Please, yes, please, Master…” Anakin’s voice was cut off when Obi-Wan began to teasingly rub the tip of his cock against his slick hole. He then pulled away, and Anakin gasped and his hips rocked back, trying to follow. “Please.”

“You are incapable of patience,” Obi-Wan said lowly, annoyed. He gave Anakin a hard smack. “You are impossibly needy.” 

“I’m sorry, Master. I’ll do better, I promise. Please, please, I want—”

“Quiet, Padawan. This is not about you, remember?” Obi-Wan's voice was so rough and low as he lining himself up. He pressed just the head of his cock inside and stopped, making Anakin whined in complaint. He pulled out again before pushing the tip back in, teasing him. “You are here for me to use, remember?”

Anakin moaned in the affirmative, and then Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s hips and pulled his body back as he thrust forward sharply. Anakin gasped as he suddenly took the length of Obi-Wan’s long, thick cock. Obi-Wan hummed and then gripped bruises into Anakin’s hips as he pulled him even further on to his cock, getting him to take all of it. “Very good, Padawan, very good.”

Anakin almost sobbed with pleasure, limp against the floor, stuffed full of cock. He was overwhelmed with the sensation, it was uncomfortable, it was perfect—he was so happy, he couldn’t believe it. He began slowly to smile, whimpering with every thrust, feeling Obi-Wan’s cock move inside him, pounding into him. 

Obi-Wan suddenly laughed, and swatted Anakin hard. “I can’t believe you got me to fuck you, Anakin.” He slid almost all the way out and then fucked in again, going even deeper.

Anakin moaned loudly, he was taking it, finally taking Obi-Wan’s cock, Obi-Wan was finally fucking him, fucking him on the floor of their kitchen, he'd gagged him with his cock. Anakin felt like he was dreaming. 

Obi-Wan was moving in a fast, hard rhythm, slapping their hips together, still gripping Anakin’s hips hard. The sound of Obi-Wan’s slicked cock moving in Anakin echoed obscenely, filling the small room. Obi-Wan muttered, frustrated, snapping their hips together, “I was going to wait until you were a Knight, you unmitigated brat.” He swatted him again. “I have enough going on in my life. I don’t need to add violation of a core tenant of the Jedi Code to the list.” He pulled his cock all the way out and Anakin whined.

“No, please, Master, please, don’t stop, I need it—” Anakin said in a desperate plea. 

“Quiet, Padawan.” Obi-Wan said sharply. “This is not about you. You said so. This is for me.” He swatted Anakin hard, making him moan and rock his hips.

“Yes, Master, of course, Master, what do you want, what can I do?” Anakin risked pulling his head up off the tile and looking back over his shoulder, eyes tracing the flush on Obi-Wan’s cheeks and chest. “Please, how can I be good?”

“Turn over onto your back,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “I want to see your face while you take my cock.” Anakin obeyed as quickly as he could, feeling uncoordinated and dizzy, he was so achingly hard. “Spread your legs.” Anakin immediately did as ordered. Obi-Wan was still on his knees, and he picked up Anakin’s legs so his calves were resting against his shoulders, raising up Anakin’s hips to the perfect angle. Obi-Wan began teasing him with just the tip of his cock again, his eyes intent on Anakin’s face.

Anakin met his gaze and said, sounding almost drunk, “You were really waiting for me to…?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and then fucked in hard. Anakin moaned loudly and Obi-Wan smirked, sinking his whole cock into Anakin with one deep thrust, and then beginning to fuck him in earnest. “I was waiting, yes. It’s not even far off. You ruined that. You always push.” He set a fast rhythm, snapping his hips forward, taking out all his frustration with Anakin, with the Council, with the Senate, with everybody and everything that had made his last week a waking nightmare of stress and frustration. 

Obi-Wan suddenly pushed Anakin’s legs forward towards his head, bending him almost in half, sinking his cock in even deeper, fucking him into the floor. His voice was low and furious, “You have to break every single rule you come across, don’t you?” He suddenly grabbed Anakin’s neck and held him down, not choking off his air but firm enough to cut off circulation, their hips slapping. Anakin was already feeling lightheaded, and was feeling woozier and woozier. Obi-Wan’s voice was mocking. “You have to be special.” 

Anakin whined, precome leaking from his cock, and Obi-Wan said intently, “You want to come? You want to come on my cock, Padawan?” Anakin was so close, so incredibly close, and he whined again in affirmation. “Can you come without me touching your cock? Can you come from just me fucking you, Anakin? Come from just taking my cock like you’re supposed to?” Anakin was shaking, so close, he nodded quickly. Obi-Wan commanded, “Then come, Anakin,” and shifted the angle of his hips so his cock would press against Anakin’s prostate and thrust in hard.

Anakin groaned loudly and came, his mind going blank before shattering into a million pieces. Obi-Wan fucked him hard through his orgasm, while Anakin painted his chest and stomach with pulses of come, almost blacking out from the intensity of the orgasm, opening his eyes and seeing stars. Obi-Wan released his throat, and moved his hand back to his hips, swiping a finger through Anakin’s come on his chest and licking it. Anakin moaned and one last spill of come made his eyes roll back and groan. Obi-Wan’s hips snapped forward in satisfaction.

“Very good, Padawan. You did what you were told, for once.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said agreeably. He was relaxed in Obi-Wan’s hold, overstimulated and shaky, mesmerized by the sensation of being fucked. He looked down to watch Obi-Wan’s cock slide quickly in and out of his body. “Thank you, Master.”

“You’re welcome, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, his voice strained, his hips beginning to lose rhythm as he neared orgasm. Anakin loved the sound of Obi-Wan coming apart, and he looked up, smiling widely up at Obi-Wan until Obi-Wan smiled back at him, almost involuntarily matching his expression—his Force signature finally uncoiling all the way, his frustration slipping away. Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled again, wider, muttering fondly, “Force, you take it so well, Anakin, you take me so well, I knew you would.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin nodded lazily and continued to smile. Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed him, thrust in hard one last time, and came deep inside Anakin, his hips jerking as he filled him up with his come. He groaned loudly, and rested his forehead against Anakin’s for a long moment as the wave of pleasure cascaded through his mind, down his spine and out his limbs. He pulled back and pecked one more kiss before pulling his cock out, watching his come drip out behind. Anakin watched Obi-Wan’s face, proud of the satisfaction that he found there. 

“I didn’t expect you to feel the same way,” Anakin mused happily. Obi-Wan sat heavily next to him on the floor of the kitchen and summoned a towel using the Force. “That was frivolous,” Anakin almost giggled. 

“Hardly, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said in a mockery of his teaching voice, wiping himself clean. “Hygiene is of critical importance for health and wellbeing.”

“If you say so, Master,” Anakin said. “I didn’t expect it?” he repeated as a question.

Obi-Wan sighed and looked over and began wiping Anakin clean too. “And I thought you imagined me as a father, yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Anakin agreed, letting Obi-Wan tidy him up. He smirked slightly. “Sorry for interrupting your research.”

“It was good you did,” Obi-Wan said, exhaustion creeping into his words. “I really needed a break.” He sighed again and got up, offering a hand down to pull Anakin up too. “Let’s go shower.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said cheerfully, allowing himself to be drawn up to his feet. He leaned against Obi-Wan, snuggling his face into his neck. “Let’s do that.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and sighed. “You do have to write the mission report next, alright?”

Anakin scowled momentarily. “Fine.” He headed to the ‘fresher, pulled by Obi-Wan, muttering, “I just didn’t want to sit by you when you smell good, and you always smell good after you shower. It’s not like I really have a problem with doing the stupid report.

“Splendid,” Obi-Wan said crisply. “I look forward to reading your recollections.”

Anakin swallowed. “Yep! They’re… really solid.”

Obi-Wan gave him a fond look. “I’ll talk you through it.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said, relieved. 

“My pleasure, Padawan.” 

Obi-Wan smiled, and Anakin smiled back.

Anakin was absently plucking his lyre on the grassy hill overlooking the sea, listening to the waves lapping gently against the shore. The sun was setting, and it was rapidly growing dark and cool around him. Without looking back, he asked, “How much did you hear?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet. “Everything. All of it.”

“It explains a lot,” Anakin said evenly. “I never understood why she was so overprotective.”

“Having a son doomed to die young tends to do that,” Obi-Wan snarked. He sat down heavily next to Anakin on the grass, and reached down to unfasten the leather ties of his sandals, kicking them off and sighing loudly. 

Anakin raised an eyebrow, snarking back, “Immortal glory, Obi-Wan.” He pressed his shoulder against Obi-Wan’s, giving him a playful nudge.

Obi-Wan made an exasperated noise and pushed back, harder. He matched Anakin's teasing tone. “You'll die, Anakin.”

Anakin studied his face in the deepening twilight. It was hard to read his eyes clearly in moon's faint light, but Anakin was sure that he saw no humor there, only concern. He melted slightly, and stopped pretending to be all right, slumping back and laying on the grass, looking up at the first visible stars. Obi-Wan lay back with him, pressed close against his side.

Anakin let out a shaky breath.  “Do I really have a choice? It was prophesied before I was born.” His voice was small, and his hand reached instinctively for Obi-Wan’s, who accepted his tentative touch, interlacing their fingers and squeezing tight.

“You always have a choice, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said fiercely. “I don’t care what the Fates say.” He brought Anakin’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingers as reassurance. He said more quietly, “You must have a choice.”

“What if I choose you?” Anakin asked quietly. He slipped his fingers out of Obi-Wan’s grip and rolled up onto his elbow, looking down into Obi-Wan’s eyes, demanding an answer. “What if I stay by your side?”

Obi-Wan shook his head slightly. “Where you go, I go.” His hand rose up to stroke Anakin’s cheek, and Anakin pressed into his touch, tilting his head slightly to kiss his palm. Obi-Wan smiled faintly. “Not the other way around.” 

“Even to Hades?” Anakin asked, trying to keep his voice light, his face slowly drawing down closer to Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan was looking up at him intently, and Anakin whispered against his lips, “Even to our deaths?”

“Even to our deaths,” Obi-Wan murmured back, nodding. “Even to Hades.” He threaded his hand into the thick golden curls on the back of Anakin’s head and pulled his face down, completely closing the distance between their lips, kissing him deeply, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Anakin whined and immediately rolled to sit on top of Obi-Wan, throwing a leg over and kneeling over him. 

Obi-Wan groaned as Anakin straddled him, pressing their cocks together. Anakin’s chiton rode up, and Obi-Wan stroked his palms up the smooth, bare skin of Anakin’s thighs to cup his ass and then slide up to squeeze his hips tightly, pulling him close against his chest, their kiss growing sloppy, tongues tangling. Anakin broke the kiss and gasped, rocking his hips down, needily rubbing their hardening cocks together. Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his hips, keeping him still.

“Belt,” Obi-Wan said shortly, and Anakin huffed a laugh, unclasping his belt and throwing it to the side. Obi-Wan then slid his hands up under Anakin’s chiton and pulled it off, baring him completely to the moonlight. Obi-Wan ran his hands slowly along Anakin’s broad shoulders and down his long chest, touching his golden skin, fingers exploring his familiar muscles, his familiar scars. Anakin was a warrior, he was born to fight. He was born to die. Obi-Wan pulled him down close and kissed him hard.

Anakin began sliding his cock deliberately against Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had bent him over the table and fucked him hard right after dinner, just before Anakin came to practice his lyre and think—just before he was instead unexpectedly told about his prophesied demise. Anakin was still ready for Obi-Wan, he didn’t need any preparation. Obi-Wan smirked, one of his hands sliding down to press two fingers into Anakin easily. Anakin moaned loudly and rocked his hips.

Obi-Wan’s other hand began to stroke Anakin’s cock, his fingers circling and then pulling down the length, squeezing the head. Anakin whined and his hips jerked. Obi-Wan pulled his two fingers out, making Anakin protest for a moment, and then pressed in three fingers, hard. Anakin’s eyes closed, the pleasure from Obi-Wan’s hand moving on his cock and fingers sliding in his ass almost too much to bear. 

Anakin gasped when Obi-Wan suddenly replaced his fingers with the tip of his thick cock. Obi-Wan let go of Anakin’s cock, making him whine slightly, and grabbed Anakin’s hips, pulling him down hard, making him take his cock inch by inch. Anakin moaned loudly and relaxed around Obi-Wan’s cock, opening his legs wider, letting Obi-Wan fully seat himself inside. There was a long moment when the world was still, Obi-Wan was completely inside him, he was stuffed full of Obi-Wan—his mentor, his brother-in-arms, his best comrade, his lover. 

“I need you with me,” Anakin said, rocking his hips slightly. “I can’t do it without you.”

In a swift motion, Obi-Wan rolled them, putting Anakin on his back, chest to chest, his cock still deep inside. He began to move his hips slowly, very gently thrusting in, pressing forehead against forehead. “I will follow you anywhere, Anakin.” Obi-Wan whispered, moving back and pulling all the way out. Anakin whined and Obi-Wan rose to his knees, pulling one of Anakin’s legs over his shoulder and sliding back inside with one sharp thrust. “I need you too.” 

Anakin smiled, arching his back, opening his legs wider. Obi-Wan’s hand returned to stroking Anakin’s cock and he began thrusting harder, fucking deeper, their hips slapping together in a steady rhythm. Anakin was getting closer and closer. He said breathily, “Let’s live forever, then.” Obi-Wan hummed and pressed his fingers along the bottom of Anakin’s cock, stroking along a vein and fucking in hard against Anakin's prostate, making Anakin come suddenly, groaning as he spilled his come into Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Immortal glory does sound good.” Obi-Wan smirked, licking Anakin’s come off his thumb as he began to thrust harder. “I want them to know about us forever.”

“They will, I know they will,” Anakin said, voice soaked in pleasure. Obi-Wan was getting close, stroking unevenly in hard thrusts, finally coming, spilling deep inside and groaning quietly. Anakin hummed happily and hugged him, murmuring, “We’ll be together in eternity.”

Obi-Wan sighed and pulled out, sitting back and readjusting his chiton. It was dusky twilight now, Anakin’s bare skin gleaming in the moonlight. “To Hades, then.” He said quietly. 

“To Hades,” Anakin agreed loosely, his orgasm still making him feel drunk. “Troy first, though, I suppose.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. 

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin could hear the smile in his voice. “Troy first.”

CHRISTOPHSIS

22BBY

Night was falling, and it was growing dark. Obi-Wan accelerated his speeder bike. His plan to infiltrate the Separatist headquarters and discover how the enemy was getting so much of their intel wasn’t so much of a plan as a loose directive. He didn’t know exactly how he was going to find out what he needed to know, but by now he trusted the Force to lead him to the answer.

He felt very observed. There were thousands and thousands of droids, lurking in every imaginable position, but it was not a surprise. He hoped that Cody and Rex could do a thorough sweep of the base for bugs. He sighed and accelerated to maximum speed—he wanted to get this finished.

He was obviously being allowed to enter the enemy Headquarters unopposed, so enter the Headquarters he would. 

He finally arrived, the silence and inaction from so many lurking droids was making him feel incredibly twitchy. “So, this is the belly of the beast,” he murmured to himself disparagingly when he walked into an empty room. He did admire the native blue crystalline building materials. It was very beautiful. Pity the Separatists had occupied it.

He looked up sharply when the Force trembled.

An unfamiliar young man in black stepped out of the shadows, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. He'd heard rumors of a new Sith acolyte, but had yet to come face-to-face. He decided the Sith was quite handsome, in a brooding sort of way. The golden eyes worked for him, with his golden curls, and black was a good color on him.

Obi-Wan decided to be polite. 

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He dipped his head in a courtly manner as he unclipped his lightsaber but did not ignite it. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I inquire as to your name?” 

The young man frowned as he ignited his lightsaber. “My name is Darth Vader.”

“Is it really?” Obi-Wan asked, igniting his own saber. The room flickered with red and blue light, the humming of the blades loud and promising violence. “Is that what your friends call you?”

“Friends?” Vader looked so confused. “I’m not a Jedi.” He spat the word like a profanity.

Obi-Wan laughed. “Jedi aren’t the only people who have friends, Darth.” He spun his blade and raised his Soresu guard, two fingers pointing, waiting.

Vader shook his head and attacked ferociously, and Obi-Wan caught the blow. Crash. Their blades locked for a second and released, a flurry of powerful blows following. Vader was trying to break through Obi-Wan’s defense with pure aggression, and Obi-Wan smirked. Good luck with that.

He blocked and parried, pushing Vader back over and over, letting him break against him like water on rock. He studied his opponent while they fought. “You have excellent footwork, young one.” 

Vader faltered, brow furrowing, and Obi-Wan spun onto the offensive, using a swift combination of forms to throw him off balance. He pressed Vader back, their blades flashing and crackling as they connected and separated. 

“Oh, very well done,” Obi-Wan said as Vader used the Force to throw a table at him from behind and flip to a better position. “You are very talented with the Force, aren’t you?”

Vader scowled.  “Stop talking.” He sent several chairs flying towards Obi-Wan, who dodged two and cut one in half. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Obi-Wan smiled crookedly at him and winked, and enjoyed when Vader’s eyes widened. 

“We’re not supposed to be having fun,” Vader said indignantly. Obi-Wan could feel his anger and frustration building. He attacked again. “You’re supposed to die.”

“Shame,” Obi-Wan sighed as he parried and moved back. “I would prefer not to.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want, Jedi,” Vader snapped. His speed increased, trying to augment his fighting with Force-assisted quickness. “You’ll get what you deserve.”

“Is that what they tell you?” Obi-Wan’s defense did not falter. “Dear one, you deserve much better than that.”

“Stop it!” Vader’s blows were sloppy but extremely powerful. Obi-Wan danced away from all of them, pushing back but not giving an opening, letting himself be moved towards the wall. Vader’s golden eyes flashed menacingly, and Obi-Wan quite enjoyed the flush that was rising on his face. 

“Stop what, telling the truth? You do deserve to have friends, Vader.” Obi-Wan caressed the word, breathing a little harder. The fight was beginning to make him sweat. 

“Stop talking!” Vader was glowering now. “Stop…” He swung hard, and Obi-Wan parried, throwing him back. “... talking!” Vader swung hard again and Obi-Wan caught it, letting his momentum draw him closer, going body-to-body. 

Obi-Wan looked intently into the golden eyes of the young Sith, pressing close and murmuring, “Stop fighting, dearest, you’ve done very well, but you don’t need to fight me, I don’t want to fight you.”

Vader looked terrified for a moment, and Obi-Wan pushed him back. He watched with fascination as the terror turned to confusion, and the confusion turned to rage. He was prepared when the next attack came, defending with finesse and then jumping away. Vader growled with frustration.

“You don’t have a choice about fighting, Obi-Wan.” He glared, twisted his blade absently, circling around. “You’ll fight, and you’ll die.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and defended against his attack, giving ground and luring him forward. 

“You are very skilled with a blade, Vader.” Obi-Wan said kindly, like they were sparring. “But you’re telegraphing your moves with your hips.” He defended and pushed him back. Vader growled again, and it was so cute.

Obi-Wan realized he was having a bit too much fun. He knew he needed to return to base, but not yet. The Sith was a bit too handsome, breathing hard and pink cheeked. Obi-Wan smirked, and watched as the flush spread down his neck.

“Do you ever shut up?” Vader ground out, straining with the strength he was putting into every blow. “Do you ever shut your mouth?”

“Sometimes,” Obi-Wan said coyly. “But...” He parried and spun away. “... I’ve heard people like my mouth open.”

“What?” Vader choked out before regaining his composure, brows furrowed. They circled each other, guards up, breathing hard.

“You heard me,” Obi-Wan teased. Vader shook his head as if to clear it, refocusing on the fight. Interesting. “I’d like to hear you,” Obi-Wan invited. “I’d like you to open your mouth.”

“E chu ta sleemo,” Vader sounded appalled, the end of his blade dipping slightly. “What are you doing?”

Obi-Wan smiled warmly at him. “Making a friend, I hope.” He wanted to laugh as he watched the entire spectrum of human emotion cross Vader’s face in moments. “Do you want to be friends, Vader?”

“Stop it!” Vader ordered, sounding cornered. 

“Do you really want me to, darling?” Obi-Wan drawled, pushing the offensive, Vader’s confusion and increasingly obvious arousal making his defense haphazard. Obi-Wan was pushing him towards the wall, hard. “You’ve fought well, it was very well done, but we can be finished now.” He hooked Vader’s blade out of his hand, tossing it away, leaving him unarmed. 

Vader’s back hit the wall and Obi-Wan’s lightsaber rested an inch away from his neck. “We can be finished, my sweet boy,” he murmured, looking deep into Vader’s golden eyes, appreciating his blown pupils, his obvious need for praise. “Would you like to be finished?”

Vader swallowed loudly, his breath loud in Obi-Wan’s ears. “... Y-yes?” He stuttered slightly. He sounded confused and incredulous. “What are you doing?”

Obi-Wan smirked, his own arousal suddenly too much to take. “You, hopefully, sweetheart.” He deactivated his blade and replaced it with a hand, holding Vader to the wall by his neck. Vader opened his mouth, brow furrowing and Obi-Wan leaned in and kissed him, pressing his lips gently before sucking his plump bottom lip into his mouth. Vader moaned in surprise and desire. Obi-Wan gently bit his lip, holding and pulling it in his teeth as he moved back, meeting desperate golden eyes again.

“I c-can’t,” Vader said, sounding lost. “What are you doing?”

Obi-Wan tipped his head from side to side, deliberating. “I’m being irresponsible.” He smiled. “Would you like to be irresponsible too? I think you’ve earned it,” Obi-Wan said in a conspiratorial hush. “You did do so very, very well.” Vader was almost panting, his blush deepening to a bright crimson shade.

Obi-Wan was becoming very fond of that color.

“They’ll know,” Vader said, looking momentarily conflicted before breathing in sharply, eyes widening. Obi-Wan watched as an idea bloomed into his head, as if he realized some key fact that he’d forgotten. “Okay,” he said eagerly, gaze searching Obi-Wan’s face. “Yes, okay.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  

“Sweetheart,” Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Vader’s neck gently. “You are as subtle as a ton of duracrete. I already know this is a distraction, and my best men are working on the problem.” Vader huffed like Obi-Wan had taken away a cookie he was about to eat, pouting slightly. Obi-Wan smiled. “You are so cute.”

Vader’s eyes bore into his. “I am not.”

“You are,” Obi-Wan said sincerely, his free hand coming up to brush back golden curls. He murmured, “You are just the cutest thing.” He gently placed a kiss on Vader's lips. “I want to take care of you.”

Vader whined, and Obi-Wan let go of his neck. When Vader didn’t move to summon his lightsaber, Obi-Wan pecked another kiss on his lips and dropped to his knees. Vader’s voice was disbelieving. “What are you doing!?”

Obi-Wan reached up gently and ran his hand along Vader’s thick bulge in his pants, squeezing him and looking up with a raised eyebrow. “Taking care of you,” Obi-Wan said, like it was obvious. He began unfastening Vader’s pants and Vader moaned, his hands twitching. “I’m going to give you what you want.”

Vader looked extremely confused. “What I want?”

“Yes, what you want,” Obi-Wan nodded, and pulled Vader’s cock out of his pants and stroked him lightly, enjoying the softness of his skin. He looked up, making eye contact. “Do they let you have what you want?”

“I...” Vader looked lost for words. He looked almost intoxicated with arousal, face flushed. Obi-Wan enjoyed how debauched he already looked. Keeping eye contact, he sucked spit into his mouth and then licked along the length of Vader’s cock, spreading the saliva, sucking the head into his mouth. Vader moaned, hips jerking slightly and Obi-Wan pulled his head back.

“Stay still, please, dear one,” Obi-Wan said. “Let me do the work, let me take care of you.”

“Of… of course… s-sorry,” Vader said quickly. “I don’t, I haven’t...”

Obi-Wan smiled at him. “Of course, darling, I didn’t think, don’t worry.” He reached up and grabbed Vader’s hips, holding him still with a tight grip. Then he stuck out his tongue and swallowed Vader’s entire cock, letting it slide down his throat, sucking him all in. 

“Ah!” Vader gasped with alarm, and Obi-Wan gripped his hips hard, and moved his head to let Vader’s cock fuck further down his throat, working him even deeper inside, swallowing and sucking. “Karking fierfek!” Obi-Wan hummed around his cock, causing a whimper, and pulled back.

“Language,” Obi-Wan smirked up at him, licking the head of his cock, tongue sliding along the slit, tasting Vader’s precome. “Did you like that? Do you want more of it?”

“Yes, yes!” Vader said, quickly. “I liked that. It was nice.” He sounded genuinely surprised, and Obi-Wan frowned minutely at the thought that pleasure was so unusual. He squeezed Vader’s hips reassuringly and sucked him in again, gently sliding his lips up and down, getting in a smooth rhythm. He pulled back and Vader made a noise of protest. Obi-Wan just smiled. 

“Would you like other nice things?” Obi-Wan asked, his thumbs rubbing Vader’s hips encouragingly. Vader nodded, confused, and Obi-Wan used his grip on his hips to spin him around so he was facing the wall, pulling his pants down past his knees. 

“Wh—” Vader began to ask, and Obi-Wan’s hands slid to cup and squeeze the round muscular globes of Vader’s ass, pulling them apart, spreading him. “Wha—” Obi-Wan pressed in close, making his tongue wet and spreading saliva again, this time licking around Vader’s tight, pink entrance. “What?!” Vader’s hips bucked against Obi-Wan’s grip on his ass. Obi-Wan smirked.

“You’re so cute, here too, do you know that?” Vader made a scoffing noise. Obi-Wan licked him again, and the noise turned into a moan. He slid one of his hands around and began jerking Vader’s still wet cock, pressing firmly with his fingers, twisting his wrist. 

Obi-Wan’s tongue pressed into Vader slightly, stroking his cock quickly. Vader moaned, trying to both press his hips back into Obi-Wan’s mouth and forward into Obi-Wan’s hand. He came abruptly with an incredulous groan, spilling his come in hot pulses into Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan smiled against his skin with satisfaction.

“Force,” Vader muttered, resting his head against the wall. “That felt incredible.”

Obi-Wan stood up behind him, pressing against his back and resting his chin on his shoulder. “May I fuck you?” He asked quietly. “You’ve been so good for me, coming for me like that. I loved that, seeing that, hearing that.” He began tracing fingers around Vader’s tight hole, his cock throbbing with anticipation, and Vader whimpered. Obi-Wan kissed his neck and whispered, “Darling, please, let me fuck you. I want to very badly.”

“I… I haven’t...” Vader’s ears were crimson. “I don’t know how.” Obi-Wan kissed his neck again, one hand coming up and running through his curly hair, scratching his scalp.

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart, you just have to take it. Can you take it?”

“I think… Yes, I think…” Vader muttered, his hips rocking back, pressing his entrance against Obi-Wan’s hand, seeking contact. “Please?” 

“Oh, you’re perfect, just perfect,” Obi-Wan murmured, fingers still tracing and stroking the soft skin. Vader whined. “You are.” He began to press a finger inside, slowly. “Have you had anything in your ass before? Have you ever put your fingers in your ass, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” Vader said. “I couldn’t... I can’t... I don’t...” His voice was losing coherence as Obi-Wan began gently fucking him with his finger, opening him up. 

“I’ll be so careful with you,” Obi-Wan said, voice low and reassuring. He absently felt for his utility belt, checking to see if he had his packets of bacta. He did. “It’ll feel so good, I promise, darling, I promise you.” He added a second finger, pressing in deliberately through the tight muscle, opening him further. “So good, you’re being so good for me.” Vader whined and nodded, as much as he could with his forehead still pressed against the wall.

“Thank… thank you...” He still sounded confused and overwhelmed by pleasure, which made Obi-Wan frown even more. He pushed in as far as he could with his two fingers and pressed down, curling and stroking, making Vader whine and push his hips back.  "Please!"

Obi-Wan took that as a good sign and pulled his fingers out, which made Vader snap his head around and look back in horror. Obi-Wan smiled warmly at him, and Vader relaxed completely against the wall, his orgasm had left him limp and shaky.  Obi-Wan looked around, and decided that a table was in order. His eyes found a suitable one nearby, and he grabbed Vader's hand. “Follow me, please, darling. I want to make this as easy as I can for you, make it as good as I can.” Vader nodded hazily and a small grin involuntarily spread across Obi-Wan’s face at his lassitude.  He guided Vader over to a large table made of the same blue crystal as the rest of the building, and encouraged him to sit. “Lay back and relax for me."

Vader followed orders immediately, his head clunking down as he slumped back with a relieved sigh. Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, still smiling, and stripped Vader’s boots and pants off all the way. He put one of Vader’s legs over his shoulder, and pushed the other out wide to the side, squeezing it once in a ‘stay-here’ gesture that Vader instinctively obeyed when he let go. 

Obi-Wan smiled down at the young man laying flat on his back on the table in front of him, and ripped open the packet of bacta, coating three of his fingers as Vader watched with pleasure-soaked eyes. He slid the slick fingers between Vader's legs, making him whimper, and stroked gently against the soft skin before sinking them inside, murmuring, “You’re so tense, darling. I need you to relax, yes, there you go, relax, dear one. I’ll take care of you, you’re taking my fingers so well.” Vader’s eyelids fluttered shut in pleasure at the praise, whimpering as Obi-Wan's fingers scissored and stretched him wide, loosening him up and preparing him to be fucked. 

Once Obi-Wan judged he had opened him enough, he pulled his fingers out, earning a displeased look and noise from Vader that made him laugh. “You are just so cute.” He smiled at Vader’s scowl as he unfastened his own pants and pulled out his cock, rubbing it with bacta, looking down at him more seriously. He had to be sure. “You’ve done so well, sweetheart, do you want more?”

Vader was staring, fascinated and distracted, at Obi-Wan’s hands. Obi-Wan lined up his cock with Vader’s ass, and asked, “Do you, darling? I won’t if you don’t want it.” Vader’s golden eyes came up to meet his. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then Vader nodded. Obi-Wan touched the head of his cock against his ass and murmured, “I need to hear you say it, dearest.”

“Yes, please.” Vader said quietly. “Please.”

Obi-Wan smiled, and thrust his hips forward, slowly pressing the tip of his cock inside. He groaned, the pleasure of it almost overwhelming; despite his preperation, Vader was still so tight, so perfectly tight. Vader’s eyes and mouth opened wide in surprise, and it was so impossibly cute. Obi-Wan was still for a long moment, letting them both adjust. Vader felt so perfect around him, the soft, hot pressure of his body, accepting him so well. He stroked Vader’s thigh encouragingly, and started to move his hips, fucking his cock gently inside, sliding in deeper and deeper with every thrust.

Vader took it so well, each thrust making him whimper and pant. Obi-Wan was giving him a gentle hum of encouragement as his hips began to thrust harder, “Very good, you’re being so very good. You take my cock so well, darling, look at how well you take it. You feel so good to me, so good for me.” He sped up slowly, beginning to fuck him in earnest. 

Vader’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Kriff, yes, I didn’t know.” His hips were open, he was relaxed, and he was taking Obi-Wan’s cock so very, very well. Obi-Wan pulled both his legs over his shoulders, picking his hips up slightly to the perfect angle, and began sliding in and out quickly, his pace increasing, their hips beginning to slap together. So perfect.

The sound of Obi-Wan fucking Vader filled the room, so very different from the previous hum and crash of blades. Obi-Wan groaned at the incredible surreality of it, how good it felt to fuck instead of fight. “Sweetheart, thank you, yes, so good for me.” He looked at Vader’s flushed face and hazy eyes, and fucked him harder. “What’s your name, darling, I want to know. I want to call you your name, please.”

Vader’s eyes shot open, refocusing on Obi-Wan. “Vader,” he said slowly. Obi-Wan frowned at him and fucked him harder. Vader’s eyes rolled back in his head again and he whined. “My name is Darth Vader.”

“Tell me your true name, sweet boy, I need to know.” Obi-Wan tried again, and Vader just shook his head, rolling it from side to side, his whole body jolting with the force of Obi-Wan’s thrusts. Obi-Wan frowned, and pulled out all the way. 

Vader’s eyes opened again as he cried out, “No, please, don’t!”

“Do you know your name?” Obi-Wan asked, looking at him seriously. “Do you have a name?”

“Yes,” Vader admitted, looking away. “I’m not supposed to use it.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, sliding his cock back in. Vader sighed in relief and then moaned as Obi-Wan began fucking him deliberately and methodically, thrusting harder and harder, faster and faster, working back up to a rapid pace.

“I got a new name,” Vader explained, breathily. “I left that name behind me.” 

Obi-Wan nodded and hummed encouragingly, beginning to murmur. “Tell it to me, sweetheart. I want to know, you’ve been so good for me,” Vader whined again and shook his head, less forcefully this time. Obi-Wan continued, trying to adjust his hips to an angle that would press his cock against Vader’s prostate. “You’ve taken my cock so well, darling. I love how you feel around my cock, so tight and warm, so perfect, darling, please, please tell me.”

Vader panted but did not speak, so Obi-Wan pulled out again, and Vader almost sobbed. “No, don’t stop!”

“Say your name.” Obi-Wan said, no room for debate. “Who are you?” He brushed the head of his cock against his entrance teasingly. “Tell me.”

“Anakin,” Anakin gasped, giving in. “My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan thrust in hard, “Thank you, darling, dearest, my sweet one. Thank you, Anakin.” At the sound of his name Anakin whined. Obi-Wan began to stroke his cock. “Do you think you could come again, Anakin?” Another loud whine. “Do you think you could come while I fuck you, Anakin?” He nodded.

Obi-Wan was very close, very close to coming. “I’m close too, Anakin, you feel so good, I’m going to fill you up with my come, do you want me to come in your perfect ass, Anakin?” He squeezed and twisted Anakin’s cock and fucked him rapidly, their hips slapping loudly in the echoey room.

Anakin cried out and came again, coating his stomach and chest, making a mess, his eyes rolling back. Obi-Wan smirked and slammed his hips in again and came too, the wave of his orgasm making him feel lightheaded, spilling his come into Anakin’s tight body. He groaned loudly as he finished, and Anakin whimpered. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and looked down into brilliant blue eyes. He smiled. He liked them even better than the gold. Anakin smiled up too, slightly disbelieving. 

Obi-Wan pulled out and sighed, helping Anakin get dressed and cleaned up. “You’re coming back with me, Anakin. I won’t let you go back.”

“Okay,” Anakin said. “Okay, Master.”

The bright sun made Anakin squint and frown as he left the Computer Science building. He was instantly far too hot in his black hoodie, but didn’t bother to take it off—he knew that he only had a short walk across campus to another air-conditioned room. 

He grabbed some sunglasses out of his messy backpack and began trudging on autopilot to the other side of campus. He’d made this particular trek from the ugly cluster of Computer Science and Engineering buildings up the hill to the much more beautiful Liberal Arts quad thousands of times over the last four years. 

The late May weather was beautiful, and people were running around campus with their families in black robes taking pictures, chattering loudly and looking happy. Anakin tightened his grip on the freshly printed document in his hand and swallowed thickly. He was not happy. 

He’d been putting off this meeting for as long as he could, scheduling the last possible slot to meet with his thesis advisor and hand in his paper. Once he turned it in, he would no longer be an undergrad. 

No longer Professor Kenobi’s student. 

Anakin didn’t want to be done learning from Obi-Wan. He didn’t want this meeting to be the last time they were in the same room. He didn’t want this to be the last time he ever really saw his favorite professor—outside of maybe across the field at graduation. He didn’t want to be done. He didn’t want to say goodbye. 

Professor Kenobi was the entire reason Anakin had ended up with a double major in Classics and Computer Science. Obi-Wan Kenobi was the best.

In the beginning, Anakin had only ever taken Ancient Greek to fulfill his language requirement. Studying a dead language was the only way to avoid having to spend years making inane small talk about the weather and his favorite colors in a language he’d never use with fellow students he’d prefer to avoid. 

Two years of reading Ancient Greek? He had figured that he could do that, no problem.

He hadn’t even looked up the name of the teacher of Greek 101 when he registered, or read their teaching reviews online, because it really hadn’t mattered. He’d just wanted to avoid the alternatives. Anakin had sorely regretted not checking. He’d wished that he’d been prepared, because when Professor Kenobi walked in, it felt like Anakin was taken apart and put back together wrong. 

Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi was in his thirties, a Hellenist, and had a DPhil from Oxford. He was an internationally renowned scholar, author of multiple famous books on Thales and Anaximander, Anakin’s thesis advisor, and a total fucking thirst trap. 

Anakin sighed and jogged up the stairs to the doors of the combined Classics and Anthropology building. The air conditioning inside was a relief, but the whole building felt odd, it was very quiet, almost too quiet. The final exam period was over, and all the classrooms were empty. The halls echoed without the usual crowd chattering before and after classes. 

He walked up the narrow stairs to the mezzanine filled with professor’s offices slowly, catching his breath and enjoying the familiar sight of all the long-outdated event posters and lecture fliers tacked on the walls. He took a deep breath when he reached the landing. He could do this. Turn paper in, say thanks, leave. That’s all. It would be fine.

Professor Kenobi’s door was closed. 

Anakin swore quietly to himself and pulled out his phone to check the time. He’d been so sure that he’d left early enough, but sure enough—he was twenty minutes late. He had only meant to go to his robotics lab to print his thesis, but had gotten distracted as usual. The professor had probably gone home. He’d missed him. All that worrying, and he’d missed him entirely.

Anakin wanted to bang his head against the wall. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before clenching his jaw and looking back at the door. He wondered if he should slide the paper under, or if an electronic submission would have to work. Obi-Wan usually hated that, he only ever wanted things turned in on paper so he could write all over them, but maybe a thesis was different. 

He decided to knock, even though in the past a closed door had always meant that the professor was gone. 

“Come in!” Obi-Wan answered back crisply. 

Anakin started a little, butterflies in his stomach at the familiar, posh accent. He cautiously opened the door, sticking his head inside. Obi-Wan was typing quickly, staring at his screen, his back to the door. The afternoon light was coming in through the window, filtered by the broad, green leaves of the tree outside. Obi-Wan’s white Oxford was rolled to his elbows, and Anakin’s eyes caught and lingered on bare forearms, wrists and hands.

“Hello, Professor,” Anakin said quietly. He stepped inside and had a long moment of indecision about whether or not he should close the door behind him or leave it open. It had been closed. He probably wanted it closed? Anakin shrugged and closed it as Obi-Wan shot him a distracted look over his shoulder.

“Ah, there you are, Anankē.” 

Anakin blushed at the nickname. At the beginning of his senior year, Obi-Wan had said that it seemed to be an inexorable inevitability that Anakin would be in his class every semester and called him his own personal Anankē. Anakin had just blushed and shrugged and made scheduling excuses, rather than be honest about how he chose courses. He didn’t care if he was reading Homer or Plutarch, he just wanted to be in the class taught by Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan turned back to his screen, typing for a long moment before hitting the return key hard and spinning his chair back to face his desk, looking over Anakin's sloppy hoodie and jeans critically. He gestured Anakin to sit, his voice dry, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forget about this meeting too.”

“Sorry I’m late, Professor.” Anakin sat down heavily in one of the visitor’s chairs, pulling off his sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair. He swallowed and looked down at the slightly wrinkled paper in his hands. “I, well, I lost—”

“—Lost track of time in the robotics lab,” Obi-Wan cut him off. “I’m sure you did.” Anakin looked up at him when he heard the smile in his voice, catching Obi-Wan’s knowing blue eyes and his playful smirk. Anakin felt flustered. “At least you made it, eventually.”

“Yes, Professor,” Anakin said, with an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry.” He held up his paper proudly. “All finished. I fixed the bibliography like you requested to APA standards. I think it does look better.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and held out a hand, and Anakin transferred it over. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan said distractedly as he thumbed through to the end. “It was a bit of a mélange of styles before.”

“Yes, Professor, I know,” Anakin grumbled. “I fixed it.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said. “I already know the content is fine, unless you’ve edited out critical sections without permission.” Anakin huffed a laugh and Obi-Wan looked up, meeting his gaze. Anakin swallowed and looked down. “It is a fine thesis, Anakin.” Anakin felt himself blush, and rolled the strap of his backpack between his fingers anxiously. Obi-Wan continued thoughtfully, "If you rewrite it in a more authoritative voice, we could submit it around and see if it could be published.”

Anakin looked up. He liked the sound of ‘we could’ anything. “Really?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and sighed. His disappointment became evident in his voice: “I still can’t believe you’re going for a Ph.D. in Computer Science instead of Classics, Anankē, you are one of the best philologists I’ve ever met.”

Anakin couldn’t breathe. “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Obi-Wan opened up his leather messenger bag and tossed Anakin’s paper inside, turning back to his computer. He began typing rapidly. Anakin stared at the back of his head for a long moment and then stood up, slinging his backpack over a shoulder, opening his mouth to say his thanks and go. His heart hurt, but he could do it.

Obi-Wan raised a hand with a finger up in a ‘just a moment’ gesture and continued navigating through menus and confirming boxes. Anakin watched, confused, until Obi-Wan clicked submit with a flourish and closed out of his program. 

“There,” Obi-Wan looked back at him intently, his voice full of satisfaction. “I’ve submitted your grade. You are officially no longer my student, and you will never be my student again.”

Anakin felt his shoulders slump a bit. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” He swallowed and tried to be honest. “I’ll miss it.” 

I’ll miss you.

“I certainly won’t.” Obi-Wan was standing up, and Anakin frowned at him. 

“What?” He watched with confusion as Obi-Wan walked around the desk and towards him, crowding him backwards towards the floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Anakin’s confused eyes darted from Obi-Wan’s tidy copper hair down to his leather wingtips, and back up to his bright blue eyes. “Why?” He felt slightly hurt.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. He was standing right in front of him, closer than he’d ever been. He could see the different shades of blue in Obi-Wan’s eyes. He felt frozen, not understanding what was happening, his face was burning. 

“You’ve been driving me insane,” Obi-Wan said emphatically. Anakin’s eyes flicked between Obi-Wan’s, trying to read his expression. Obi-Wan shook his head slightly and exhaled hard. He grabbed Anakin by the nape of the neck and pulled him close. Anakin made a surprised noise deep in his throat when Obi-Wan touched him, and felt his eyebrows rise. 

Obi-Wan’s lips suddenly pressed gently against his, and Anakin’s eyes opened widely and then slid closed. He felt like gravity flipped directions, he couldn’t think clearly—his brain felt disconnected. He dropped his bag and let Obi-Wan walk him backwards against the bookshelf with a loud thump.

Anakin’s mind was stuck on a loop of Obi-Wan is kissing me, I’m kissing Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan is kissing me. He melted, tentatively raising his hands to slide up Obi-Wan’s back, pulling him closer. Obi-Wan’s lips moved against his, gently licking and then sucking on his bottom lip. Anakin moaned and broke the kiss, jerking his head back and clunking it against a large dictionary. He said, rather stupidly, “Not just me?”

“Christ, no, you oblivious idiot.” Obi-Wan kissed him again. “You are brilliant, Anankē, but probably the most oblivious person on the planet.” His mouth moved down to Anakin’s neck. Anakin’s pulse was racing, his breathing was shallow.

“I didn’t expect it,” Anakin gasped as he defended himself, enjoying everything about Obi-Wan’s proximity, his scent, his freckles, his eyes. “I didn’t think it was possible. You’re… I’m just...” He blinked and shook his head slightly. “I never assumed...”

“I know you didn’t, darling.” Anakin’s eyes closed as he felt a spike of desire, he was starting to feel dizzy with how quickly blood was leaving his brain to fill his cock. Obi-Wan was still talking as he sucked a line of kisses down Anakin’s neck. “It was for the best. The entire department thought we were fucking for years now.”

The sound of Obi-Wan saying fucking like that was incredible—hearing him whisper it into his ear as he sucked on his throat was so overwhelmingly incredible that it took several seconds for Anakin to register the content of the sentence. He jerked his head back into the dictionary again and frowned. “What!?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, consolingly, pecking him gently, “Everyone likes to gossip, but everyone knew I would never break the rules so nothing came of it.”

“Oh,” Anakin said lamely. He didn’t understand how he’d missed something that big. He had spent most of his time outside of class in the robotics lab working on Threepio and Artoo, so he missed inside jokes a lot.

“I will not miss the infernal gossip, and now I can touch you.” Obi-Wan kissed him again, softly. “So no, I will not miss you being my student, paidika.”

Anakin whined, leaning forward to rub his cheek against Obi-Wan’s beard, like he’d always wanted to. It was both soft and rough, exactly like it should be. He nuzzled him again and murmured back, “Erastēs, please, I need you to touch me.”

Obi-Wan hummed approvingly and said, “Take off this infernal hoodie, Anakin, it’s practically 35 degrees outside.”

“It’s much warmer than that, Professor,” Anakin smirked as he unzipped and shrugged it off, standing in his grease-stained V-neck and jeans. 

Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look. “Shut up.” He kissed Anakin again, hands raking through his hair, grabbing his curls gently. “Do you own a comb, Anankē? I have genuinely wondered for years.”

“Probably somewhere,” Anakin shrugged. “My fingers work fine.”

Obi-Wan made a skeptical noise. “Do they?” He reached a hand to grab Anakin’s, bringing it to the front of his slacks. Anakin groaned when he felt how hard Obi-Wan’s cock was—how big it was. He wrapped his fingers around and slid along his length. 

“Professor,” Anakin said wonderingly.

Obi-Wan moaned and muttered fervently. “God, Professor this and Professor that, if I had to hear you say it one more time in public I was going to murder you outright.”

Anakin laughed, looking into Obi-Wan’s face curiously. “Why?”

Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes and pressed his cock into Anakin’s hand again. “Why do you think, Anankē? It made me hard when I was trying to teach.”

Anakin’s eyelids fluttered shut and he whined. “No, it didn’t… It couldn't have...” He slid his hand along Obi-Wan’s cock again. He was so big.

“It did.” Obi-Wan kissed him again, and Anakin whimpered, his own cock so unbelievably hard there was a wet spot on his jeans just from their talking, just from their kissing. “You genuinely have no idea what you look like and sound like, do you? The effect you have on people around you?” Anakin shook his head. “You are so frustrating, paidika, I’ve wanted to strangle you.”

“Hey,” Anakin felt himself pout slightly. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, ever.” Obi-Wan smiled. “You impossible creature.” He kissed the pout from Anakin’s lips, until Anakin was smiling too.

“Professor,” Anakin whispered. “Please...” He pressed his hips forward so that his hard cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s. “Please.”

Suddenly, Anakin was being moved. Obi-Wan carefully pushed several precarious piles of books to the side and then pushed him back roughly on his desk, unbuttoning Anakin’s pants and jerking them down. Anakin moaned when his cock was exposed, and Obi-Wan smirked down at him. “Shoes off.”

Anakin nodded and kicked off his sneakers, letting Obi-Wan pull his jeans all the way off. Obi-Wan pulled Anakin’s legs apart and stood between them, pushing up Anakin’s shirt and stroking a hand down his chest. “Good, paidika, very good.” He kissed him hard, fingers lightly brushing Anakin’s cock before stepping away.

Anakin’s breath was shaky. He pulled off his shirt entirely and felt a spike of arousal at being naked on Obi-Wan’s desk, while Obi-Wan was still fully dressed. He watched as Obi-Wan picked up his messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of lube and a foil packet. Anakin laughed, “You carry that around?”

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “Not every day.”

“Today?” Anakin felt his blush deepening. He spread his legs again as Obi-Wan came back to stand between them, making his cock bounce slightly. Obi-Wan smiled at him, his eyes flicking from Anakin’s down his chest to his cock and back up.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed, popping the top of the lube. “Today.”

Anakin whined, “For me?” He couldn’t believe that Obi-Wan had planned this.

“Yes, for you.” Obi-Wan said wryly as he dispensed some lube on his fingers.

“Oh,” Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan’s fingers first brushed the sensitive skin under his balls, sliding back towards his entrance. He spoke quickly. “You won’t need to do much of that, Professor.” 

Obi-Wan absently began stroking Anakin’s cock, looking down at him curiously. “Why?”

“I’m already…” He moaned at Obi-Wan's increasingly firm grip on his cock, feeling his face burn. “I’m almost already ready for you.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharper, his other hand coming up to gently touch Anakin’s entrance, making him gasp. “Why, Anakin?” 

Anakin whimpered, biting his lip. “I knew I was going to see you so…”

“So?” Obi-Wan pressed a finger inside Anakin, made a speculative face, and then slid in two. Anakin whined and tossed his head back.

“I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be distracted, so I tried to take the edge off.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. “Are you saying that you got yourself off before you came to see me? You came on your fingers thinking about me?” He began fucking Anakin faster with his fingers.

“Yes, I did,” Anakin panted. Obi-Wan’s hand sped up on his cock and Anakin moaned, admitting shyly, “I’ve had to before class for years, why would this be any different?”

Obi-Wan groaned at that, and slipped in another finger, stretching him out quickly. Anakin opened his legs wider, trying to make room. Obi-Wan kissed him deeply, and Anakin was suddenly overwhelmed—Obi-Wan’s fingers were fucking him, his other hand was stroking his cock, and his tongue was in his mouth. Anakin felt so close to coming that he couldn’t kiss right, and he pulled his head back, gasping. 

“Please, Professor, please, I’m ready, I need it, I want you to—”

Obi-Wan slid his fingers out, and roughly opened his pants, pulling out his cock. Anakin’s eyes widened. Since when did Professor Kenobi have a cock that big? Obi-Wan laughed at his expression and grabbed the condom and the lube, rolling it on and slicking himself liberally. “Don’t worry, my beautiful paidika, you can take it.”

Anakin nodded fiercely, opening his legs wider. “Please, Professor, I need—”

“I know,” Obi-Wan agreed, resting the head of his cock against Anakin’s prepared entrance and pausing. Anakin whined and shifted his hips slightly, begging for it, but Obi-Wan still didn’t move. Anakin looked up desperately, trying to read Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan was smiling widely, looking down at him, sighing contentedly before saying, “Finally,” and pressing the tip of his cock inside.

Anakin made a disbelieving noise at the stretch, looking down to watch Obi-Wan’s massive cock sliding inside of him slowly. He whined and slumped back, his head hitting the desk with a clunk as he took it, trying to relax into the feeling. Obi-Wan laughed and Anakin felt him fuck in a little harder, pushing in a little deeper, working himself inside.

Obi-Wan’s hand returned to Anakin’s cock and began stroking him again slowly as he fucked him. Anakin moaned loudly and then blushed and cut himself off. He was glad nobody was around, but he still didn’t want to be too loud. 

“Don’t be quiet,” Obi-Wan said, his hips finally meeting Anakin’s. Anakin moaned again, he was so full. He was stuffed full of Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan was inside him. He was so deep, he was so thick—Obi-Wan began sliding in and out slowly, getting Anakin used to him, getting Anakin to relax completely. “I want to hear you.”

“Yes, Professor,” Anakin said breathily. Obi-Wan’s hips jerked and he groaned loudly. 

Obi-Wan spoke thickly, his speed increasing, the sound of their hips slapping together beginning to fill the small office. “You were so frustrating, Anakin, taking the last possible day, putting off as long as possible the moment that I could fuck you.” He thrust his hips harder. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, Anankē, but you really have been driving me insane.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Anakin looked up at him, feeling vulnerable. “I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want it to be over.”

“I know, dear one. ” Obi-Wan pushed Anakin’s apart legs wider and began fucking him rapidly. Anakin’s eyes rolled back and his head hit the desk again with another loud thunk. “It’s not over.” Obi-Wan vowed, and Anakin met his intense gaze. “You are not leaving.”

Anakin nodded loosely. “I’m going to graduate school here.” He whined as Obi-Wan shifted his hips for a better angle and began fucking him harder, thrusting in deliberately. “For AI stuff.”

“I know you are, Anakin.” Obi-Wan bent forward, pulling him back up slightly by the neck, kissing him hard before letting him drop back. “I had been hoping you would. I need you around, I already told you that, my Anankē.”

“Yes, Professor,” Anakin whined. ”I need you too. I...” Obi-Wan’s hand sped up on his cock, fucking him hard. Anakin moaned loudly and then whimpered. “I love you.” Obi-Wan’s rhythm broke off, and Anakin gasped. He hadn’t meant to say that. “Sorry, I mean, I—”

“I love you too,” Obi-Wan said roughly, fucking him even harder into the desk. Anakin couldn’t believe it. He felt like he was floating, he was so close to coming as Obi-Wan murmured, “You impossible, brilliant idiot,” and he jerked Anakin’s cock hard, squeezing the head and twisting his wrist gently.

Anakin cried out loudly and came, spilling his come onto his stomach and chest.  Obi-Wan fucked him through his orgasm, and he slid a finger through Anakin’s come and tasted it. Anakin whined as Obi-Wan sucked his finger clean and groaned, his hands coming to grip Anakin’s hips tightly, holding him steady, fucking him hard. Anakin’s legs fell open wide, he opened himself up as much as possible to take Obi-Wan’s massive cock as well as he could. 

“Please, Professor,” Anakin murmured, reaching up and touching Obi-Wan's face, stroking his beard. “I want you to come, I want to see it. Will you come in me, please, Obi-Wan, please—” 

At the sound of his name, Obi-Wan’s face looked almost pained. He fucked in hard, hips jerking, and groaned, “Anankē.” Anakin smiled widely, holding eye contact, and Obi-Wan groaned again, louder, and slammed his hips in a final time before he came, his head dropping forward as his body tensed. Anakin watched, fascinated. It was the best thing he’d ever seen.

There was a long quiet moment as Obi-Wan’s orgasm cleared. Anakin was breathing deeply, processing what had just happened—what he’d just learned. He was so happy, he just couldn't believe it. Obi-Wan kissed him on the forehead and pulled out, making Anakin whine with disappointment. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and stepped back to his bag, pulling out a packet of wet wipes. 

“You are such a neat freak.” Anakin laughed.

Obi-Wan smirked at him and began to clean them both up, snarking back, “You’re welcome."

Anakin sighed happily, letting him wipe his chest and stomach. “I love you.”

“And I you, my Anankē.”

Obi-Wan’s wide-brimmed hat blocked the twin suns from his face, but it was still very hot and bright. As he milked the last of his banthas, he considered just how much he would prefer to look at a bantha udder than at the thing wearing his Padawan’s face. It had barely been a year, but he wished it could have been a lifetime.

He’d felt Vader ship enter the system, and had felt momentary panic. Baby Luke. Vader seemed to have come straight to him, though, which was a small relief.

“I killed Sidious.” Vader’s voice was too familiar.

Obi-Wan kept his head down, focused on his work. He let the silence stretch for a long moment before asking waspishly, “Am I supposed to be impressed?” 

Vader shrugged, tone unreadable. “I don’t know, maybe.” Obi-Wan let the silence stretch again. It seemed that Vader was not going to break it.

“Why are you here?” Obi-Wan ground out. 

Vader came to stand closer by his side, his voice quiet. “I found out where you were.” 

Obi-Wan shot him a dirty look. “That’s not a reason.” He stood up sharply and walked away, carrying the bucket of bantha milk with him. He smelled like bantha.

Vader trailed after. “I’m not sure, alright?”

“Well, you’re not welcome,” Obi-Wan explained patronizingly, speaking over his shoulder. “Please leave, or I will kill you.”

“Why?” Vader sounded bemused. 

Obi-Wan’s stopped walking, his already tense posture freezing solid. He rotated his head slowly on his neck, his eyes meeting Vader’s for the first time. “That is an extraordinarily stupid question, Darth.”

“I suppose.” Vader flinched back. Obi-Wan stared at him until he tried again. “I suppose... I want to know why you didn’t attack me on Mustafar, then. If you’d kill me now.”

“I should have then.” Obi-Wan shrugged, feigning indifferent. “I should now.” Vader frowned as Obi-Wan turned away and walked inside his cool cave. Vader followed, again, and Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched and nostrils flared in frustration. 

“I know, so why not?” Vader said earnestly. 

“I couldn’t.” Obi-Wan said tersely, setting down the bucket of milk in his small kitchen. Vader loomed in the doorway and Obi-Wan shot him a glare. “You’ve always compromised my judgement.”

“Compromised your judgment?” Vader furrowed his brow. Obi-Wan looked away—Vader still dressed like Anakin, stood like Anakin, talked like Anakin. His eyes were different.

Obi-Wan’s voice was extremely curt. “Yes.” 

“How?” Vader pushed off the doorframe, walking in closer. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t handle Vader intruding one more step into his private sanctuary, the place he came to be alone with his grief and his loss. This was his place. His resentment spiked sharply. He couldn’t believe that after everything that had happened, Vader just walked up to his door, through his door, and into his kitchen. 

Obi-Wan raised a hand and pushed Vader hard with the Force, shoving him back. Vader looked surprised. Obi-Wan advanced, his voice dangerous as he drew nearer. “I don’t know, Darth, perhaps the fact that I spent more than a decade trying to clean up every single mess you made until you made one so unbelievably kriffing large that it literally brought down the entire Republic and created a Sith Empire!” 

Obi-Wan was speaking furiously in Vader’s face, now, words spilling out. “I would have done almost literally anything else—let you get away with literally almost anything else. But no!” Obi-Wan shoved him again, pushing him back into the hall.

“You got married, first of all.” Obi-Wan spat the words, pressing forward, eyes flashing. “Didn’t tell me, second of all, even after you got me to fuck you and I deserved to know.” He pushed him again, and Vader did not resist. “You got an important Senator pregnant in the middle of a war.” His voice was getting louder. “Then I go away for TWO DAYS and you slaughter a Temple full of younglings? For what possible REASON?!” 

Obi-Wan’s heart was racing, memories he’d tried so hard to repress were flashing, his mouth running on its own. “You crushed your wife’s esophagus! I had to watch her die!” Vader flinched and Obi-Wan tried to press down his urge to violence. It wasn’t working. His voice increased in volume. “You knelt to a Sith Lord and called him MASTER!”

He was in Vader’s personal space, breathing hard, glaring up intensely. Vader’s cheeks had flushed deeper and deeper red, and he was breathing hard too.

“I had to.” Vader said, helplessly. “I’m sorry, Master.” 

“Do not!” Obi-Wan pushed him again, and this time Vader’s back hit the wall. “You do not get to say that to me ever again.” His tone was fervent. “You lost that privilege.” They stared at each other for a long moment. Vader’s eyes dropped to his lips. Obi-Wan snarled. “Stop that too.”

“Stop what?” Vader looked confused. “What am I doing?”

“Looking at me like you can touch me,” Obi-Wan said, offended. “You cannot! You lost that privilege too. You got married. You lied to me and got me to break my vows.”

Vader defended himself. “I wasn’t looking at you like that.” He looked guilty. “I wasn’t doing that.” 

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath, turning away. He stalked back over to his conservator, and roughly placed the whole bucket of bantha milk inside. He didn’t want it to curdle. He wanted Vader to leave.

The silence stretched painfully. 

“Why are you really here, Vader?” Obi-Wan eventually said, resigned. “What do you really want?”

Vader’s voice was uneven. “I thought I might arrest you. Or kill you. Just bring you back. I don’t know.” He was still leaning against the wall, watching through the doorway as Obi-Wan moved around his kitchen. 

Obi-Wan barked a humorless laugh and then glared. “You’ve never really had a plan once in your life for anything you’ve ever done, why am I even surprised?” He evaluated Vader’s red cheeks. “You feel guilty, is that it? You want me to get mad at you? Scold you?”

Vader’s eyes went wide, and Obi-Wan knew the truth. He did. Anakin reacted, he never planned. He used his instincts, but never his mind. Without someone to point him in the correct direction, he was aimless. He had no idea what he was doing without a Master.

“You got in over your head, didn’t you.” Obi-Wan snapped. “You listened to the first person who gave you an easy answer.”

Vader nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable. 

Obi-Wan said menacingly, “Well, Palpatine wasn’t the first person, but you never bothered to ask me anyway, so I suppose I don’t count and never did.”

Vader whimpered quietly and shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“You killed everything I loved, Vader,” Obi-Wan said. “I shouldn’t be having this conversation with you at all. Please just leave.”

“No.” Vader shook his head again, more firmly. “I can’t go back without you.” It looked like he was dropping all pretenses. “Please, come be the Emperor, they want me to do it and I can’t. I don’t want to do it.”

“No, Vader. I won’t do that. I will absolutely not do that.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I would help you restore the Republic, though.” He needed to get Vader off Tatooine before he sensed his son in the Force. Obi-Wan was surprised he hadn’t yet. Obi-Wan needed to keep his attention here or get him to leave now.

“Thank you, Master.” Vader sounded relieved. 

Obi-Wan felt time stop. He froze completely, and then he felt like something inside cracked in half. How dare he? Obi-Wan glared. “Put your hands on the wall.”

“Why?” Vader looked very confused.

“If you want to call me Master,” Obi-Wan said in a low, dangerous voice. “You will obey me. You will take commands. You will take consequences.”

Vader’s blush turned crimson and he looked down, breathing hard. “Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan’s hands twitched as Vader turned and laid his hands against the wall. 

Obi-Wan walked over and pulled Vader back by the hips, so his back was swayed and he presented himself. Vader made a protesting noise that he ignored. He shoved Vader’s black tabards aside and yanked his pants down with a sharp jerk. Vader was already partially hard, and his breath caught at the friction. 

Obi-Wan felt out of control, he felt furious, he felt a spike of arousal. Once Vader’s bare ass was exposed, Obi-Wan swatted him hard, a loud smack resounding through the room, followed by Vader’s moan. “Is this what you really wanted?” Obi-Wan smacked him again. “Is it?”

“Y-yes, Master.” Vader was panting, pressing his hips back towards Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan spanked him on the other side, and Vader jerked slightly, thrusting his hips, moaning with pleasure. 

Obi-Wan frowned and smacked him harder. “Stay still, or I will make you stay still.”

“Yes, Master,” Vader agreed, “I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” Obi-Wan smacked him again. Vader’s ass was beginning to turn a nice shade of pink. Obi-Wan enjoyed seeing his marks on Vader’s body. Vader’s cock was incredibly hard, but Obi-Wan made no move to touch it. 

Obi-Wan glared. “I would make you list your mistakes,” He spanked Vader several more times on both sides, even harder. Vader whined and moaned, holding position. “It would be impossible to list all the ways you ruined everything, Vader. You kriffed over the entire galaxy, kriffed over your fellow Jedi, you kriffed over me.” He spanked him hard for the last one. 

Vader’s head hung, and he whined, “I know, Master, I know, I’m sorry, I never meant for this to happen, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll never be sorry enough,” Obi-Wan growled. He asked, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Vader’s hips pressed back, his back swaying. “Yes.”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan said. His own cock was so hard it hurt, anyway. He pushed aside his tabards and pulled it out of his pants, stroking it gently. “Prepare yourself.”

“What?” Vader looked over his shoulder.

“You may take your hands off the wall.” Vader dropped them, standing up straight. Obi-Wan was very close behind him. He murmured lowly into Vader’s ear. “Get yourself ready to be fucked, Darth. Use your fingers, open yourself up.” He swatted Vader again. “I don’t want to bother, I’m not sure you deserve it. You better hurry before I change my mind. Do not touch your cock.” 

Vader nodded, and immediately followed instructions, putting fingers in his mouth to gather saliva and pressing them into himself slowly. Obi-Wan stood close behind him as Vader worked himself open slowly, spitting on his hand again to get more saliva, trying to prepare himself. Obi-Wan enjoyed his desperate breathing. He stroked himself and watched. 

“I’m… I’m ready, Master, please,” Vader panted eventually. He was fucking himself with three fingers, legs splayed open, curled over. He looked good like that. Vader started to beg, “Please, I am ready, Master, please...” 

Obi-Wan felt extremely satisfied at his begging and swatted him hard. He said, “Hands back on the wall.”

Vader exhaled gratefully, rearranging his posture to present his ass again, rubbing it back up against Obi-Wan’s hard cock. Obi-Wan spanked him again. “Did I give you permission to do that?”

“No, Master,” Vader whined. “I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry...”

“I’ll bet you are,” Obi-Wan muttered, spreading Vader open and inspecting. “Good enough.” Vader sighed in relief when Obi-Wan spat loudly on his hand, coating himself and lining himself up. Obi-Wan pressed the head of his cock gently inside Vader’s tight body, and Vader moaned loudly. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Vader said fervently. 

Obi-Wan tried not to groan at the feeling of hot, tight pressure on the head of his cock, so tight and so good. He grabbed Vader’s hips and thrust hard, pushing all the way inside, pressing hard and pulling back to fuck in as deep as possible. 

Vader let out a loud pained sound that quickly turned into a moan as he opened up. Obi-Wan frowned and pulled all of the way out and sucked more spit into his mouth, spitting directly into Vader’s ass and then pressing his cock back inside. “That’s all you get.”

“Thank you, Master,” Vader whined, pushing his hips back and up, trying to align himself perfectly to take Obi-Wan as deeply as possible. “It’s enough, thank you.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said shortly, his grip on Vader’s hips tightening and his pace increasing, the sound of their hips slapping beginning to fill the hallway. Obi-Wan swatted Vader hard, and Vader whined. He did it again, and again, Vader began to thank him for each one.

Eventually Vader said breathily, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Master, I don’t know how to fix it, I’m sorry, Master...” He whined when he got an even harder, final spank. He ass was glowing. Obi-Wan slid one of his hands from Vader’s hips to his extremely hard cock, stroking him hard.

Vader came, almost immediately, his body curling as he whined with pleasure, his come spilling on the ground. Obi-Wan moved his hand back to Vader’s hips, using his hold to fuck him hard, deliberately thrusting in his cock as hard and deep as possible.  

“You can never really fix it, but you can try,” Obi-Wan said roughly. “I’ll help you try.”

Vader’s body went limp after his orgasm left him, his hands sliding down the wall slightly as he was pulled back further by Obi-Wan. “Thank you, thank you...” He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan came, looking into Anakin’s blue eyes, spilling his come deep inside. “Anakin?” slipped out from between his lips. He was overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure, feeling unsteady on his feet as he came. 

“Hello, Master.” Anakin smiled.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan replied shakily, one last spill of come making him feel drained. “Okay, fine, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed and thought of Luke, safe and happy with Beru, Leia happy and loved on Alderaan. He'd tell Anakin when it was the right time, but not yet. He pulled out and came to a final decision, watching absently as his come dribbled out of Anakin. He pushed it back in. “I’ll go with you to Coruscant.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Obi-Wan was upset, and was upset with himself for being upset. 

He knew, of course, that intellectually he had nothing at all to be upset about. That was the problem. Everything had turned out relatively well. Imhotep had been returned to the afterlife, splendid treasures had been looted by accident, and lives had been saved with aplomb, huzzah.

If he’d been Padmé, it would probably feel very different right now. Obi-Wan sighed, hating himself slightly. His rambunctious baby sister survived. He was very glad. She deserved to be happy. 

Mr. Skywalker probably would make her very happy.

Obi-Wan swallowed, and poured himself a healthy splash of whiskey before beginning to unpack the treasures from his bag. He gulped it down quickly, and then poured himself more.

The boat trip homewards down the Nile would take several days. Obi-Wan’s cabin was comfortable with its two beds and large balcony, and the river air was particularly pleasant at this time of evening. The moon was large in the sky, and it was all very picturesque.

He was alone, but what else was new. 

A bath might be nice, he decided. He felt grimy and uncomfortable, and the cabin turned out to inexplicably have a large, claw-footed tub. Money really could buy happiness. Obi-Wan set down a stack of ancient golden coins and went to begin filling it with very hot water. He wanted to soak, needed to relax.

As he waited, he surveyed the objects from Hamunaptra with swelling optimism. At least there was a great deal of scholastic as well as purely monetary value in their haul. The numismatics alone would take days to catalogue properly. He’d have something to do and an excellent excuse to not look for Padmé for days.

Obi-Wan frowned when there was a knock on his door. He ignored it. He wasn’t expecting room service or guests, and didn’t particularly want to see anyone at all. 

Well, one person.

He took a large sip of whiskey and turned his attention back to a jeweled goblet. He tried to group it with others of loosely the same date, pursing his lips as the knocking continued.  

“Obi-Wan, stop ignoring the door!” 

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up at that. Anakin sounded amused. What was Anakin doing knocking on his door? 

Obi-Wan looked at the ceiling for a long moment before deciding to answer. He walked over and pulled the door open warily, noting with confusion that Anakin was alone and carrying his bag. “Mr. Skywalker?” 

“Hi, Obi-Wan. May I come in?”

“This isn’t Padmé’s cabin.” Obi-Wan didn’t understand. “This is my cabin.”

“Yes, I know.” Anakin rolled his eyes. “May I come in? This bag is heavy.”

“But…” Obi-Wan trailed off as Anakin stopped waiting and pushed past him into the room. 

Anakin sighed loudly with relief as he dropped his bulging bag on the second bed next to Obi-Wan’s vaguely sorted piles of gold. He sat on the mattress and started pulling at the laces of his boots.

Obi-Wan stood by the open door, watching him with increasing alarm. “Padmé is on the other side of the hall.”

“Yes, I know.” Anakin repeated himself more slowly, letting one boot clunk off. “I know that. Close the door.”

“I would have thought…” Obi-Wan trailed off, looking out at the hallway and then back at Anakin. When Anakin just dropped his other boot and raised his eyebrows, he continued unwillingly. “You should be with Padmé.”

“Me and Padmé?” Anakin sounded amused. “Why would you think that?” He stood up and walked toward Obi-Wan, pulling the door out of his hand and closing it himself.

“Why would I think that?” Obi-Wan gaped up at him; their small height difference was only really noticeable when they were this close, which was far too close. “Literally everything you’ve done for the last few weeks has been to keep Padmé alive? You’ve almost died for her multiple times?”

“You were there too,” Anakin pointed out, unhelpfully.

Obi-Wan shook his head, stepping back slightly and startling himself by running into the wall. “It’s not even close to the same thing.”

“Well, I suppose she did free me from prison,” Anakin explained, crossing his arms, giving him a pointed look. “Padmé saved my life.”

“I know that,” Obi-Wan said, nodding earnestly and gesturing for Anakin to go back out to the hallway. “I was there. It was very dramatic. Very romantic.”

Anakin looked slightly annoyed and did not move. “She’s your sister.” 

“I know that too.” Obi-Wan was very confused. “You don’t need my permission to be together. That’s why I got myself my own room. I didn’t want to have to give you permission.”

“I don’t want permission!”  Anakin sounded exasperated. “I did most of those things because I didn’t want you to lose your sister, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “What?” 

“She’s right about you, you know.” Anakin smiled widely. “You are hopeless.”

“Hopeless?” Obi-Wan felt cornered. He looked over at his whiskey bottle. “What did Padmé say this time?”

“That you’d need a Rosetta stone. That I’d have to spell it out for you, once in English, once in Greek, and once in Hieratic, and even then you still might not get it.”

Obi-Wan frowned and slipped around Anakin, heading back to the opposite corner and his whiskey. He poured himself a couple fingers, trying to keep his heart rate down and breathing steady. “Spell what out?”

“Almighty Christ,” Anakin groaned, “Shut up. I give up. Come back here.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t move. He was so confused, and he really, really didn’t want to misread the situation. “Why?” 

“You are something else. Even if I did like women, which I don’t,” Anakin said, advancing on him now. “Padmé still wouldn’t like me. She likes women. I honestly don’t understand how you can be this oblivious.”

“You… don’t…” Obi-Wan froze as Anakin’s proximity increased again. “Padmé’s a lesbian?” He waved a hand vigorously. “Never mind. I don’t care right now. You’re not with…”

“No, Obi-Wan.” Anakin sounded long-suffering as he plucked the glass out of Obi-Wan’s hand. “I’m not.”

“But…” Obi-Wan was grasping for solid ground. Somehow he was trapped between Anakin and a wall again. “You two get along so well!”

“She’s my friend, Obi-Wan.” Anakin smiled, drinking Obi-Wan’s Scotch and making a pleased face. “This is good.” He set the glass aside and loomed into Obi-Wan’s personal space. “Padmé feels like my sister too, alright?”

“But… you’re too…” Obi-Wan clicked his mouth shut. He had no idea what to say. Too handsome? Too young? Too good for me? He tried to study the expression on Anakin’s face, but looked away reflexively before he could tell what it was for sure. 

Obi-Wan was used to trying as hard as possible to avoid looking at Anakin for too long, ever since Anakin showed up to meet them at the docks with a haircut, shave, and a clean set of clothes. His sharp jawline and long neck had made Obi-Wan feel like he’d been punched in the gut, and his sharp white shirt had made his shoulders seem impossibly broad, and made his tanned skin glow with vitality. His blue eyes glinted with humor, and his pants clung to his thighs. 

The Mummy had been an almost welcome distraction. Obi-Wan could use another distraction now. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just… confused.”

“I know you are, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s voice was gentle, and it made Obi-Wan’s chest hurt. “I’m not mad you’re figuring it out. Take your time.” 

“But…” Obi-Wan swallowed. He was breathing in Anakin’s scent, an intoxicating combination of leather, gunpowder and soap. It was making him dizzy, he couldn’t think straight. “I’m so much older than you! You’re younger than Padmé and she’s my baby sister.”

“Rude,” Anakin laughed. “I’m an adult, Obi-Wan.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, running a hand down his face, smoothing his beard in exasperation at himself. “I certainly know that. I meant that I don’t understand why you’d be…”

“Why what, why I’m interested?” Anakin asked when his voice trailed off. Obi-Wan nodded, feeling self-conscious. “Obi-Wan, you have to be joking.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, but didn’t say anything. 

Anakin sighed. “I’m not good with words. You’re the one that’s good with words.”

“Not always,” Obi-Wan said despairingly, still looking down.

“I see that!” Anakin’s voice was amused, but grew more tender. “I want you, Obi-Wan. You, not Padmé.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said faintly. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Anakin seemed to not understand the question.

“I’m just…” Obi-Wan swallowed and tried again, looking up tentatively. His eyes made it to Anakin’s full, pink lips before dropping again. “I’m just a librarian now. I don’t… I’m not exciting. Not since the… the war, you know. Padmé’s the one who picks fights in the Casbah and goes on adventures. I’m very boring.”

“Boring sounds very good to me.” Anakin smiled, and Obi-Wan felt his face burn. “I don’t want to go on any more adventures, Obi-Wan. Probably ever. I’m really tired of almost dying.” His voice was becoming a low murmur as he leaned closer, as if he were sharing a terrible secret. “I want to go at least a year without getting shot at before I even think of another adventure.”

“You do?” Obi-Wan asked, hope starting to bubble up despite his best efforts at keeping it down.

“Yes, I do. So are we good? You get it?” Anakin reached out slowly. “Can we touch yet, or do I have to keep waiting?”

“Keep waiting?” Obi-Wan finally looked him in the eyes. “You’ve been waiting?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, in a long-suffering way. “I’ve been waiting.”

“For what?” Obi-Wan suddenly became aware of the sound of water still filling his tub. It was probably close to full. He looked over at the bathroom door with anxiety.

“Imhotep to get put back six feet under, for one.” Anakin’s hands came to rest loosely on Obi-Wan’s tense shoulders, drawing him closer. “A room with a locking door, for two.” Obi-Wan nodded, his heart pounding in his ears. “I originally wanted you to ask me, for three, but Padmé told me that was never going to happen.”

Obi-Wan laughed shakily. “She’s not wrong. I wouldn’t have assumed in a million centuries that you would want me to.”

Anakin smirked and his pupils were blown. He was too handsome. Obi-Wan held his breath as the distance between them collapsed entirely, and Anakin slid his hands up Obi-Wan’s neck to cradle his head, running his lightly thumbs across his jawline and beard. He shivered at the contact, and Anakin kissed him. 

It took several beats of Obi-Wan’s heart for him to process what was happening, and several more to really believe it. Anakin’s lips gently moved against his own, the warmth and sweetness of his proximity were overwhelming, and Obi-Wan jerked his head back. “Are you sure?”

“Ugh! Yes!” Anakin kissed him again, harder. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, pulling him tight to his chest and hugging him firmly for a long moment before letting go, and the pressure so felt good. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispered. “That’s… That’s good.”

Anakin smiled at him fondly, and pushed him sideways. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and then he laughed when he fell onto the soft, empty bed. “Thank you for not dropping me on the antiquities.”

“Mmhmm.” Anakin crawled on top of him, and began kissing him more deeply. Obi-Wan made a low, involuntary sound as their hips met, and he lifted his hands up to finally touch Anakin’s curly hair, sliding his palms down to finally map the width of his shoulders. 

Obi-Wan took a shaky breath as Anakin began kissing down his neck, trying to keep his hips still as his cock throbbed. He still couldn’t believe Anakin was touching him, Anakin was here, with him, not Padmé, it felt impossible. “I wanted this so badly. Wanted you… I was so jealous.”

Anakin pulled his head back, earnestly meeting his eyes. “You were very good at hiding it. If I hadn’t been looking at you already, I wouldn’t have noticed… but I was looking.” Obi-Wan flushed, and Anakin kissed him softly. “I noticed.”

“For how long?” Obi-Wan was morbidly curious. He suddenly remembered the running water, and attempted to sit up. “Anakin, I’m running a bath right now.”

Anakin grinned, letting himself be pushed to the side. “I like that.” 

“What?” Obi-Wan said distractedly, standing up and quickly walking to his bathroom. He exhaled hard in relief that the tub had not overflowed. 

Anakin huffed and stood up too, trailing after him. “You’ve always called me Mister Skywalker before. Never Anakin.”

Obi-Wan turned off the water and looked back over his shoulder, eyes flicking up and down Anakin’s lean height as he paused in the doorway. “I suppose that’s true. It seemed unwise to do anything else.”

“You asked how long,” Anakin’s voice was quiet as he came closer, reaching out and carefully began unbuttoning Obi-Wan’s shirt, visibly thinking. “It’s been since the beginning, I think. Since I saw you at the prison.”

“You kissed Padmé, I watched you.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as Anakin pushed off his opened shirt and then inhaled sharply with surprise when Anakin bent forward to kiss his exposed chest, licking and sucking on one of his nipples. Obi-Wan’s hips jerked slightly, his hands jumping to Anakin’s waist for some kind of stability. 

“I would have rather kissed you, but you stayed about ten feet away from the bars.” Anakin shrugged, and began unfastening Obi-Wan’s pants. “I thought I was about to be executed.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and began clumsily opening Anakin’s shirt too. It was hard to focus when his cock ached so sharply at the intimacy of Anakin’s touch. “Seeing it made things difficult for me.”

“I figured as much.” Anakin said, stripping Obi-Wan completely, eyes lingering on his bare, hard cock before smiling widely. “Though Padmé says you’re like this anyway.”

“This?” Obi-Wan scowled. “I hesitate to ask for clarification. Take these off.” He tugged on Anakin’s pants.

Anakin pulled back and dutifully removed his pants, and Obi-Wan’s eyes were just as caught and stuck on the flushed skin of Anakin’s erect cock. Anakin stroked himself absently, and Obi-Wan forgot how to breathe. “She thinks you’re a virgin, is that true?”

“Partially,” Obi-Wan grumbled. He turned and carefully stepped into the hot water, exhaling hard as he sat down.

“Really?” Anakin’s eyes snapped to meet his. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not very… For a long time I just thought I wasn’t… I like to read, alright?” Obi-Wan struggled to explain himself, how little sex occurred to him usually. Before Anakin. He ran a hand across the top of the water, splashing slightly in frustration. “I like to study. It never occurred to me to be… interested… in people.”

“At all?” Anakin sounded baffled. He climbed into the tub too, sitting with his back against Obi-Wan’s chest and relaxing against him completely.

Obi-Wan rested his chin on Anakin's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his stomach, holding him close. Anakin turned his face so that he could see him.“What do you mean partially, then?”

“I’ve slept with women,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Woman.” He corrected himself and reached for the soap. “It wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t right?” Anakin said knowingly. “No, it might not have been.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed, pressing a kiss against Anakin’s neck. “It wasn’t right.”

It was quiet for a few long minutes as they negotiated scrubbing the desert out of their hair and the sweat off their skin. Obi-Wan felt a blooming sort of happiness as the unreality of Anakin’s presence faded. It was so nice to be near him, to be allowed to look at him, to hear him complain for the thousandth time in a grumbling tone that Obi-Wan felt more than heard about how much he hated sand. 

The intimacy of bare skin against bare skin made Obi-Wan feel warm, disregarding the steaming heat of the water. He sighed contentedly, and Anakin came back to rest against his chest. Obi-Wan looked at his profile fondly.

“What do you like?” Anakin sounded surprisingly insecure. 

Obi-Wan frowned and wrapped his arms around him again. “What do you mean?” 

Anakin bit his lip and turned his head, closely evaluating Obi-Wan's expression. “Sometimes I would look at you at the exact right second, and I could see on your face that you wanted me. It drove me insane wondering what you were thinking about. What you were imagining.”

Obi-Wan barked a laugh. “I haven’t been able to think about anything except your mouth and your ass in weeks, alright?”

Anakin relaxed. “Well, you can have either.” His flush deepened. “Both.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked, surprised. “You want me to…? I would have supposed you would prefer to…”

“No,” Anakin huffed out a breath and shook his head. “I mean, I would. Happily. If that’s what you wanted, but I… I like how it…”

“Oh good,” Obi-Wan’s relief was genuine. “I’m so glad that’s the case. Do you have any idea the number of times I flagellated myself with the idea that you would hate it, hate me, if you knew how badly I wanted to fuck you? How many times I had imagined it?”

Anakin whimpered and shook his head. “No. I don’t. I wouldn’t hate it.”

“Thank Christ.” Obi-Wan whispered. He let a hand stroke down Anakin’s muscular chest and flat stomach, coming to lightly grasp the head of his cock and stroke his length. “You’re so beautiful, Anakin. I could barely focus on the dirty, rotten mummy when you were around.”

Anakin hummed with pleasure, rubbing against Obi-Wan’s beard. “I liked feeling your eyes on me. It made me feel invincible.”

Obi-Wan’s hand slid further down, gently stroking past Anakin’s balls to finally feel the soft skin around Anakin’s ass. He pulled his hand back. “Do you want to get out? It’s getting cooler and the water is filthy.”

“I suppose.” Anakin sighed, still cradled lax against Obi-Wan’s chest. “Here I go.” He didn’t move.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, poking him. “If you lay on the bed, I’ll fuck you.”

Anakin moved quickly, and Obi-Wan laughed, following him out at a more reasonable pace.

He caught the towel Anakin tossed him, and they dried most of the water off. The evening was warm and humid, it was so comfortable to be naked, so incredible to see Anakin’s nakedness—the length of his limbs and the strength of his chest, his smooth skin marked by various scars.

Obi-Wan raised a hand to lightly touch the one that fascinated him most, his fingertips touching Anakin’s eyebrow and the delicate skin under his eye. 

“Please, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, his voice a husky tone Obi-Wan had never heard before, and it made his cock throb. “Please touch me properly.”

“Bed,” Obi-Wan repeated himself, ideas that had been haunting him for weeks swirling and shouting. “Will fuck.”

“Right.” Anakin nodded, turning sharply.

Obi-Wan watched him walk away, taking in how his strong, muscular legs flexed and extended, how the curve of his ass changed with his gait. He had spent hours staring at Anakin’s tight pants, would recognize his ass anywhere—his body was a work of art. 

Anakin sat heavily on the edge of the bed, looking back at him with a heated question in his eyes, and a hand on his cock. Obi-Wan held up a finger, looking around the luxurious bathroom at the supplied toiletries, grinning at Anakin when he saw body oil.

Anakin raised his eyebrows, looking impatient. “Obi-Wan, please.”

“Patience, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, coming to stand between his spread knees. He raked his eyes over the man in front of him, all the skin he was allowed to touch. He slid his fingers along his collarbones, to meet in the hollow between and slide further down. “You are just so beautiful, it’s maddening.” 

Anakin’s eyes snapped up to meet his, his cheeks turning crimson. “I like it when you talk.”

“What?” Obi-Wan smiled, bemused. 

“Your voice,” Anakin said, panting a little bit as he stroked and pinched one of his small nipples. “I like it.”

“That’s gratifying to know. Is that why you asked so many questions?”

Anakin looked suddenly mischievous. “Yes.”

“I had wondered,” Obi-Wan said, stroking down his abs. “I haven’t talked so much in the last decade as I have in the last few weeks. I work in a library, Anakin.”

Anakin closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath when Obi-Wan said his first name. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

“Alright, Anakin,” Obi-Wan kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth, finally tasting him, and Anakin moaned wantonly, parting his lips and welcoming Obi-Wan inside, sucking on his tongue. He lifted his hands up to Obi-Wan’s back to pull him closer to stand between his spread thighs, but Obi-Wan evaded and stepped back. “Lay back and turn over.”

Anakin huffed and hastened to obey. Obi-Wan knelt on the bed behind him, watching transfixed as his hands slid up from his strong calves up to stroke lightly at the soft skin on the back of his knees, raising an eyebrow when his hips jerked into the bed. “Obi-Wan, please.”

“Patience,” Obi-Wan slid his hands slowly up the backs of Anakin’s thighs, finally feeling the soft skin and hard muscle. “Grab a pillow, will you?” Anakin slid a pillow closer, and Obi-Wan tapped on his hip. “Up.” 

Anakin obediently raised his hips, and Obi-Wan slid the pillow down, propping his ass up at the right angle. He hadn’t done this before, but it felt right, anyway, and he tried to arrange Anakin until he looked comfortable.  He moaned loudly as Obi-Wan  adjusted his cock, and again when he let go. “Please, I need you to touch me, please—”

“Patience,” Obi-Wan repeated.

He placed his palms on the smooth curve of Anakin’s ass, his thumbs slowly stroking the sensitive skin between his legs. He leaned down, drawn almost magnetically to lick the freshly washed, exposed skin, his tongue circling Anakin’s entrance and spreading saliva.

He’d thought about kissing Anakin there probably a thousand times, and somehow the reality was even better, because he could listen as Anakin whined, and hold him still as he squirmed. 

“It feels so good,” Anakin said fervently. “You said you didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan bit gently on Anakin’s inner thigh before leaning back. “I read.” He adjusted Anakin’s legs open wider, tilted his hips more, leaning in to lick him one more time.

“Obi-Wan, please.”

“Closer, but still—” Obi-Wan laughed, pouring oil on his hand and spreading it around Anakin’s ass. “Patience is required.”

He could barely breathe as he found the courage to finally, finally press a finger inside, and his cock throbbed as Anakin made the most incredible little sound. He was inside Anakin, he couldn’t believe it, he was so tight around him, how was his cock going to fit?

“I’ve been really patient,” Anakin said plaintively against the bedspread, arching his back, greedily pressing against Obi-Wan’s hand for more. “I’ve waited weeks and weeks.”

“So, you can very well wait another minute,” Obi-Wan said blithely, pressing a second finger inside, opening him up gently.

He was just so fascinated by Anakin’s heat, the tightness around his fingers. The oil made him slippery, and he began to slide his fingers in and out of Anakin gently, scissoring them wider, and then adding a third.

“I really can’t wait,” Anakin whined, bucking slightly. Obi-Wan laughed, letting Anakin fuck back on his fingers and open himself up.

“Do you want to come?” Obi-Wan asked, still smiling at Anakin’s efforts to press his fingers ever deeper inside. “Is that the primary issue?”

“Obviously,” Anakin grumbled, looking back over his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan pulled his fingers away, and greatly enjoyed making Anakin whine with frustration. “Roll over and spread your legs.”

“Yes, thank you!” Anakin said, enthusiastically repositioning himself. Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming surge of affection, looking with pleasure at the wanton way with which Anakin displayed himself to his eyes, at the hazy and excited look in his wide blue eyes.

“Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, adding more oil to his fingers. Anakin watched warily, clearly distrustful that Obi-Wan had not oiled his cock. Obi-Wan shook his head. Anakin’s expression cleared immediately when Obi-Wan lowered his head and licked the tip of his cock into his mouth. 

“Oh!” Anakin said, sounding like he’d been punched. He whined when Obi-Wan slid his fingers back in too, fucking him faster. Obi-Wan began moving his head, letting Anakin’s cock slide down his tongue. Obi-Wan had always, always wanted to do this. Anakin hummed in appreciation. “Yes, yes, alright. I’m…”

Obi-Wan pushed his fingers in hard, pressing up, and sucked slightly harder, pushing Anakin closer. Anakin whined and nodded, his balls tightening against his body. Obi-Wan made eye contact, and pressed hard against Anakin’s prostate.

Anakin’s eyes rolled back, and he groaned loudly as his come began to spill into Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan moaned at the taste, at the way Anakin’s body tensed, at the expression of rapture on his face. He happily swallowed down his come, licking him clean, letting Anakin clench around his fingers.

“Better?” Obi-Wan asked, catching his breath. His tone was teasing. Anakin opened his eyes, his expression blissful. 

“Yep.” Anakin agreed. “All better.”

“Can I…?” Obi-Wan checked, pulling his fingers out. 

“Please do, Obi-Wan.” Anakin looked so happy, Obi-Wan felt a thrill at realizing he wasn’t imagining the affection in his eyes. “I want you to fuck me.”

“That is extraordinarily good news,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin watched with satisfaction as Obi-Wan finally rubbed oil on himself. “As I want to fuck you very much.”

Anakin smiled, and opened his legs up wide again, trying to offer himself. Obi-Wan touched the head of his cock gently against his entrance, holding back for one more moment, appreciating having Anakin beneath him, begging for his cock. “Please, Obi-Wan, please let yourself, please take—”

Obi-Wan pushed inside, cutting off Anakin’s speech. Their eyes met, and the moment seemed to stretch into infinity. Obi-Wan took a shaky breath and began slowly sliding further inside. 

Anakin gasped in relief as Obi-Wan began to move, and Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward harder, thrusting deeper and deeper inside until he was completely surrounded by Anakin, the warm pressure making him feel light-headed. 

His forehead dropped to press against Anakin’s, and Obi-Wan did not move for a long moment, feeling Anakin adjust and relax around him. Obi-Wan’s mouth found Anakin’s neck, and he began to suck gently as his hips sped up, thrusting harder and harder. 

Anakin whined and wrapped him in his arms, holding him close. “I love you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s mind whited out, his rhythm stuttering slightly, suddenly so incredibly close to coming. He couldn’t believe it. The words seemed false, imaginary. “R-really?” Obi-Wan asked, looking dazedly into Anakin’s wide eyes. He didn’t appear to have meant to say it, but he wasn’t taking it back. 

Obi-Wan’s hips sped up again, slapping harder against Anakin’s. “I… I love you too, Anakin.” He bit his ear gently, fucking him hard. “So much. More than anyone.”

Anakin took a deep breath, “Good, good, that’s good, Obi-Wan, that’s all I wanted, all I hoped—” His voice lost coherence. “So good. I love you.”

Hearing Anakin say it again made Obi-Wan groan, his orgasm overtaking him in an instant. He fucked in one last time, hard, feeling his come spill in Anakin’s body. He groaned again at the overwhelming pleasure, his ability to hold himself up becoming rapidly diminished. He collapsed against Anakin’s chest and Anakin held him tight.

Their breathing leveled out together, and Obi-Wan pulled out. “We need another bath, probably.” He said, voice sounding intoxicated and loose. Anakin grinned at him, squeezing him hard before letting him go.

“I don’t think they’ll run out of water,” Anakin snarked, getting up and wandering back to the bath, grabbing fresh towels. 

Obi-Wan laughed, following after. He felt exhausted, he felt invigorated, he felt incandescently happy. “On a boat? I guess not.”

Anakin turned on the tap and looked at him fondly. “I still cannot believe you didn’t know Padmé is a lesbian. Who do you think Sabé is?”

“I never…” Obi-Wan felt embarrassed. “I didn’t used to think about sex, basically at all. When you showed up it was like someone struck a match in my brain. You’ve been making me feel crazy.”

“You made me crazy too. I fought a mummy for you. That was crazy.” Anakin smiled. “I love you.”

Obi-Wan smiled back. “I love you too.”

It was late, and Obi-Wan was deep in the stacks of the University Library. He was about to begin reshelving a cart of books on aisle PA 912-927, when the library door opened so hard that it banged off the doorstop. 

Obi-Wan’s head shot up, and he glared instinctively at the noise. There was nobody else inside the library at this time of night and this early in the semester, but the point stood. This was a library! You can’t just bang about like a menace.

His reflexive indignation melted in an instant when he recognized the blond barreling in through the door. A different, more complicated emotion entirely shot through him. It was Anakin Skywalker, and he looked both angry and afraid. 

“Okay!” Anakin said forcefully as he approached at a fast walk. “What the fuck’s going on?”

“S-sorry?” Obi-Wan stuttered blankly as he noticed that Anakin was unexpectedly sweaty and wearing gym clothes, both too-soft shorts and a too-tight shirt. It was extremely disconcerting. 

Anakin’s tone was strident, his scowl was ferocious. “You heard about the dead guy, right? The dead guy in the rec center lockers?”

“Yes…” Obi-Wan nodded once, setting down the books he was holding and looking Anakin in the eyes seriously as he drew near. Could he be coming to take up the mantle? Is he coming for my advice? Is this actually happening? He took a deep breath. “I did.”

“‘Cause, it’s the weirdest thing!” Anakin’s voice was full of sarcastic confusion. “He’s got two little bitty holes in his neck, and all his blood’s been drained!”

Anakin stopped directly in front of him, holding his hands on his hips, his face a mask of frustration. He somehow managed to loom over Obi-Wan despite only being two inches taller, much to Obi-Wan’s displeasure. 

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to step backwards into the bookshelf and he nodded confirmation that he’d heard the same thing. He took a steadying breath, catching the indefinable fresh scent of Anakin’s skin, his sweat and his soap. It made Obi-Wan’s heart beat faster, his throat felt dry, and he licked his lips. “Indeed.” 

“Isn’t that bizarre?” Anakin’s tone was sharp, eyes full of emotion. “Isn’t that just the strangest thing you’ve ever heard?”

Obi-Wan shrugged and said in an apologetic undertone, “I was afraid of this happening.”

“Well, I wasn’t!” Anakin’s voice was very loud. Obi-Wan swallowed his instinct to shush him. “I left that all behind in high school! I’m in college! I’m worried about parties and getting good grades! I didn’t think there’d be vampires on campus!”  

Obi-Wan blinked, trying to get back on even footing with the situation. Anakin barreling in like this and interrupting his quiet Thursday nightshift felt a bit like being hit by a speeding bus. His eyes dropped briefly to the flush on Anakin’s cheeks and his heaving chest before returning back up to Anakin’s eyes. Anakin clenched his jaw and huffed in frustration. “…And I don’t care.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him, taken aback. “Then… why are you here?”

Anakin stared intently at Obi-Wan, opening his mouth—and then furrowed his brow and closed his mouth with a click. He tried again, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders. “To tell you that… I don’t care…” Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, mind racing for a response, and Anakin’s eyes dropped from Obi-Wan’s eyes to his mouth.  Anakin bit his own lip, looked away, and then continued forcefully, “Which I don’t, and… have now told you, so…” He shrugged and shook his head. “Bye.” He turned to go, and Obi-Wan felt a sinking sensation. 

Again, he’d been wrong. Anakin didn’t want his help. 

This had happened before—Obi-Wan thinking that Anakin was coming to speak to him because he was his Watcher. He’d been wrong then, and wrong now. They’d watched each other warily ever since. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. He spoke quietly to Anakin’s retreating back, needing clarification. “Is he, w-will he… rise again?”

Anakin stopped walking and looked back over his shoulder. “Who?”

“The dead guy?” Obi-Wan asked pointedly. 

“No.” Anakin said shortly, looking back at the door. “He’s just dead.”

“Can you be sure?” Obi-Wan knew his voice sounded anxious, but he needed to get answers before Anakin stormed out again. 

Anakin looked at him like he was stupid and threw his hands in the air in disgust. “To make a vampire, they have to suck your blood…” He turned back as he explained, moving almost as if a magnet were inexorably pulling him back closer to Obi-Wan, back into Obi-Wan’s personal space. “…Then you have to suck their blood! It’s like a whole big sucking thing.” 

He was standing directly in front of Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan didn’t like how Anakin’s mouth lingered on the words suck and sucking like that, or maybe he did like it. It was certainly distracting. Anakin continued, and his tone was patronizing. “Mostly they’re just going to kill you.” He stared at Obi-Wan for a long moment before shaking his head. “Why am I still talking to you?” 

Obi-Wan studied his eyes, trying to understand the same thing. He felt paralyzed by Anakin’s insistent nearness—he’d spent so many hours wondering why Anakin was avoiding him, and now his brain was struggling to keep up with the opposite scenario. He stuttered in confusion. “I… I know how vampires are made, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan felt a swell of panic when Anakin sighed and turned to go. Without thinking, he reached out a hand and grabbed Anakin’s shoulder, pulling and turning him back. Anakin swung around with a frown, and Obi-Wan spoke in a pressed tone, seeking eye contact. “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you? You think it’s coincidence, you’re being here, Anakin? That man was just the beginning.”

“Oh, stop it!” Anakin huffed at him indignantly, and scowled. “Why can’t you people just leave me alone?” Obi-Wan was slightly taken aback and dropped his hand from its hold on Anakin’s shoulder. He wished that were part of the briefing packet on being a Watcher—he should have been warned that the Slayer would be so cute. 

Obi-Wan blinked and refocused. “Because you are the Slayer, Anakin.” He suddenly wanted to shake sense into him, make him understand how important he was, how much they all needed Anakin to be who he was. “Into each generation a Slayer is born, the Chosen One, one born with the strength—”

Anakin interrupted and joined in, speaking over the top of him, “—With the strength and skill to hunt down the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil, blah, blah, blah.” He sneered. “I’ve heard it, okay?”

Obi-Wan felt like he’d been slapped. He clenched his fists and kept his tone level. “I really don’t understand this attitude. You… you’ve accepted your duty. You… you’ve slain vampires before…”

“Yeah, and I’ve both been there,” He pushed Obi-Wan lightly. “And done that!” He pushed him again, and Obi-Wan’s back hit the shelves. “I’m moving on.” Anakin placed his hands on the shelf on either side of Obi-Wan’s head, boxing him in, trying to make him understand. He was standing so close, looking so haunted. “I’m done.”

They stared at each other for a long, heated second. Obi-Wan’s hands twitched but he didn’t reach out to touch—his heart ached in his chest, and his voice came out as a low, soothing murmur. “What do you know about this town, Anakin?” 

Anakin shook his head negatively, dropping his hands, still too close. “Nothing. It shouldn’t matter.”

“It’s all through the history of this place.” Obi-Wan spoke earnestly, needing Anakin to know this. “You’ll find a steady stream of fairly odd occurrences. I believe this whole area is a center of mystical energy. Things gravitate towards it that… that—” He swallowed and finished as strongly as he could. “That you might not find elsewhere.”

Anakin looked annoyed. “Like vampires.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Like zombies, werewolves, incubi, succubi…” His voice was getting louder. He needed air, he needed space to breathe—he pushed on Anakin’s chest lightly, and Anakin stepped back. “Everything you’ve ever dreaded under your bed, but told yourself couldn’t be by light of day. They’re all real, Anakin! The influx of the undead, the... supernatural occurrences, it's been building for years! There's a reason why you're here, and a reason why it's now!”

“First of all,” Anakin crossed his arms. “I’m just a vampire slayer. And secondly, I’m retired!” He pretended to look thoughtful. “Hey, I know! Why don’t you kill ‘em?” He poked Obi-Wan hard on the chest.

Obi-Wan rubbed the poked spot, flustered. “I-I’m a Watcher, I-I haven’t the skill…”

“Oh, c’mon,” Anakin poked him again, and Obi-Wan frowned at him. “A stake through the heart, a little sunlight… It’s easy.”

“No…” Obi-Wan shook his head. “A Slayer slays and a Watcher…”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, his tone full of insinuation. “…Watches?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan said helplessly, before hearing how it sounded. He scowled. “No! He, he trains… he prepares…”

“Prepares for what?” Anakin’s volume was rising again, Obi-Wan looked around anxiously, making sure they were alone. They were. “Prepare me to lose everything, again? I’ve barely got anything left! My mom, Obi-Wan. She’s gone! I barely got out of high school alive! I won’t fail out of college because I’m fighting for my life and can’t tell anyone about it!”

“I would never let you fail out!” Obi-Wan said fervently. “That’s the point of me! I’m here to help you, I’m here to make things easier, keep you safe. Let me help you, Anakin!” When Anakin still looked evasive, Obi-Wan felt like he was nearing the end of his patience. His tone grew more waspish. “Or are you asking me to sit back and watch you die? Because I don’t want to do that!” 

His hand raised without permission to Anakin’s face, fingers tracing the livid scar over his eye that already drove Obi-Wan insane with worry. He watched Anakin swallow nervously, his voice becoming quiet again. “Anakin, dangerous things are coming… or they are already here.”

“I know,” Anakin whispered, looking at his feet, shoulders slumping. “I saw the body. I don’t want to do this again, Obi-Wan.” He looked desperately at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan felt sick.

“I would take the burden from you if I could,” Obi-Wan said earnestly, staring into his eyes. “I know it’s a hard path, Anakin, but you don’t have to walk it alone. Let me help you! We don’t have much time. The signs point to a crucial mystical upheaval, very soon. Days from now! Possibly even less time than that. Let me help.”

“Alright, fine,” Anakin breathed, eyes wide. He leaned forward, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Then help me.” Obi-Wan watched his approach with increasing alarm. He felt like he was frozen, he felt like he was catching fire—this was something he wasn’t supposed to think about, fantasize about. Something he wasn’t supposed to crave the way that he did. Anakin spoke against Obi-Wan’s mouth, sharing his air. “Prepare me.” 

Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly sure when or how the kiss began, but suddenly he was being crowded up against the shelves, and Anakin was kissing him urgently, hands cradling his head. Their lips moved together smoothly, pressing hard, the nerves sparkling—it was a champagne kiss, dizzying, intoxicating. 

In an instant, Obi-Wan had flipped their positions, and was pushing Anakin back instead, standing between his legs, only semi-aware of the impact on the order of the books behind.  For a long, perfect moment, Obi-Wan leaned into the kiss, drowning in happy incredulity as if he were sinking into a pool of warm honey. He sucked on Anakin’s plush bottom lip, and Anakin’s resulting whine struck him with a jolt of self-awareness—both of who they were and where they were. 

He pulled back sharply. “We’re not supposed to do this.” He took his hands off Anakin’s body. “I’m positive, we’re not supposed to become involved.”

“I don’t care.” Anakin leaned forward, rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan's beard, kissing him again, pulling his hands closer and placing them back on his body. “I’m going to die anyway, in like… days, apparently.”

“No, you will not.” Obi-Wan swore to him, squeezing him gently. “I will not let that happen.”

Anakin whimpered, and Obi-Wan kissed him again harder. He wanted so badly to reassure Anakin, and let him know he was not alone, that he was there for him, for anything, for everything. They’d been dancing around each other for weeks, it was such a relief to talk to him—touch him, taste him. 

Anakin’s hands slid down from Obi-Wan’s neck to his back, pulling him close and Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s hips, holding him still. Anakin made a small, needy noise that shot straight to Obi-Wan’s cock, and he instinctively pushed Anakin even harder against the shelves with a thump, the books jumping. 

Obi-Wan pressed their chests together, kissing him deeply. Anakin hopped slightly and wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan’s hips. They both groaned when their cocks rubbed together, and Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his ass to hold him up. Anakin’s gym shorts were a soft mesh that slid on top of his strong muscles, and Obi-Wan dug his fingers in. Anakin moaned and rocked against him. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Obi-Wan asked, kissing down his neck and sucking at his pulse point. Anakin gasped and tilted his head back and to the side, giving him room. His arms wrapped around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and held on tight.

“You,” Anakin said, voice small. He whined and rocked his hips invitingly. “Please, I want… Make me feel safe.”

“You are safe, you are always safe with me, Anakin.” Obi-Wan moved his head back up to kiss him on the lips. He let his legs down and stepped back. Anakin looked mutinous. “My shift is nearly over. Will you wait with me for approximately…” He checked his wrist. “Thirty minutes?”

Anakin sighed and palmed his cock once in frustration. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, deliberately looking away from the outline of Anakin’s erection in his soft shorts. He took a deep breath, willing his own hardness away. “I’m going to finish this cart, and then we can go.”

“Fine,” Anakin grumbled, sitting down on the floor. “I met a woman you know, at a bar.”

“Yes?” Obi-Wan frowned at him. He was still trying to get blood flowing back into his brain, and didn’t like the words ‘woman’ and ‘bar’ coming out of Anakin’s mouth. “You’re nineteen, why were you at a bar?”

Anakin waved a hand at him dismissively, evading the legalities. “She… Do you know her? Padmé?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “She told me about something…” He made finger quotes. “‘The Harvest?’ Do you know what that is?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes lost focus as his mind flipped through thousands of pages. He eventually came up blank and shook his head. “No… Not off the top of my head, but I do know where in my library to look for more information.”

“Your library?” Anakin looked around.

“Not this library,” Obi-Wan said dryly, trying to make room for a large volume on the shelf with one hand before sliding it back into position with the other. “The one at my house. I have a lot of rare and antiquarian books on the subject.”

Anakin looked up hopefully. “Will you take me home?” 

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked back at his cart. About twenty more books to go. He began shelving faster. “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s too easy to be invited into a dorm,” Anakin said grumpily. “I never feel safe. I didn’t realize that when I applied for housing. I can’t afford to live anywhere else on my scholarship, either, so it’s not like I had a choice anyway.”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of protectiveness and looked down at him. “Well, you can… you can stay with me… u-until you feel safer. I have extra wards.”

Anakin picked at the fabric of his shorts. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan mechanically shelved the remaining books, aware of Anakin’s eyes on him. It was quiet, but not awkward. “All right,” Obi-Wan said eventually. “I’m going to return the cart, and then we can go.” 

Anakin hopped to his feet, tagging along behind him. “Great.”

“Are you enjoying your classes?” Obi-Wan asked, curious. “What are you taking?”

“Enjoying? That’s not the word I would use.” Anakin’s voice was snide. “I’m in a bunch of prerequisite 101s. I’m already miles ahead but they won’t let you test out, so I’m stuck.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Obi-Wan said, ducking behind the counter and grabbing his bag and keys. “I’m parked in the lot underground.”

Anakin shrugged. “Where’s the entrance?”

“This way,” Obi-Wan said, leading him towards the correct bank of elevators. He smiled in satisfaction when the doors opened immediately after pushing the button. There were some advantages to being at the library after midnight. 

He turned around and leaned against the wall, and realized Anakin was standing very close indeed. “What—” Anakin kissed him again, and Obi-Wan smiled into the kiss, enjoying it for several moments before gently pushing him back. “Patience, Anakin.”

Anakin huffed again. “Why?”

“I’m not nineteen,” Obi-Wan joked, running his hands along Anakin’s collarbones, appreciating the strength of his chest, the scent of his sweat. “I’d much prefer to fuck you in my bed.”

“O-okay,” Anakin said, a little more shakily, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “I guess your bed would be fine.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said as the elevator doors slid open, stepping around Anakin and leading him to his small car. Anakin dropped heavily into the passenger's seat, a graceful pile of limbs. 

“You need an oil change, I think.” Anakin said critically as Obi-Wan turned the key. “Among several other important things.”

Obi-Wan sighed in exasperation, pulling out of his spot. “Always with the oil changes! It never stops.”

“Regular maintenance tends to be regular that way.” Anakin’s voice was filled with quiet glee. “I should have guessed you’d drive like an old woman.”

“I shudder to think of your driving habits, then.” Obi-Wan gave him a look, using his turn signal to leave the empty garage. “I don’t live terribly far away.”

“Good,” Anakin said, returning his look. His hand slid down to the front of his shorts. “I’m basically dying from blue balls.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive this hardship,” Obi-Wan snarked, and did a double take when Anakin’s hand slid under his shorts. “Are you...”

“Why not?” Anakin said, a little breathlessly. Obi-Wan’s hands tightened on the wheel, trying to keep his eyes on the road. It was extremely difficult. Anakin’s breath hitched a little, and Obi-Wan looked over. Anakin was staring at him, eyes heavy lidded, his hand moving steadily. “Nobody can see.”

“I can!” Obi-Wan huffed, shifting in his seat, his own cock throbbing. “I can see.”

“Good,” Anakin said, pulling his cock out of his shorts and licking his palm. “It’s your fault.”

“Anakin...” Obi-Wan said weakly, trying to focus on driving. The sound of Anakin’s breathing was very loud, and Obi-Wan could hear his hand stroking rhythmically. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin mimicked him, and then moaned. “You’ve been driving me crazy, staring at me all the time.”

“S-sorry,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just didn’t understand.”

Anakin laughed, jerking his cock harder. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I liked it.” He made a low noise as he squeezed the tip of his cock, wrist twisting.

“Don’t you dare come in my car,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, frowning as he uncharacteristically accelerated through a yellow light. “You will wait. It’s only ten more minutes.”

“Ugh!” The pace of Anakin’s wrist slowed, but did not stop. “You’re the worst.”

“Truthfully, you take the honors,” Obi-Wan said in exasperation. “Why are you wearing that outfit, anyway? It’s 2AM.”

“I was working out,” Anakin shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep anyway. I’ve been having nightmares.” He sighed and took his hand off his cock, tucking his erection back inside his shorts. “Some stupid cemetery, a mess of vampires and all kinds of other demons, piles of old looking crap...”

Obi-Wan glanced over, concerned. “For how long?”

“I don’t know, weeks.” Anakin said quietly. He cracked his knuckles, and Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose at him. Anakin smiled. “Probably began around when we met, beginning of the semester.” His smile dropped and he looked out the window. “I had nightmares about my mother too, you know? They came true.”

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“I would say it’s fine, but it’s really not fine.” Anakin sighed. “I hate vampires.”

Obi-Wan nodded as he pulled into his driveway, and killed the ignition. He looked over seriously as they got out of the car. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, if you don’t feel safe in your dorm. You can just sleep here. You have no obligation.”

“Pfft, obligation?” Anakin rolled his eyes, following him inside and closing the front door behind him with a firm clunk. “I’m young, but I’m an adult, Obi-Wan. I really, really want you to fuck me.”

“Thank God,” Obi-Wan said fervently, pushing him back against the door and kneeling in front of him, hands pulling Anakin’s shorts down. “Take these off.”

“Wh-what happened to fucking in bed?” Anakin asked faintly. He moaned loudly as Obi-Wan licked him, from balls to the head of his cock, spreading saliva. “Not that… Not that I’m complaining.”

Obi-Wan pulled his head back and raised an eyebrow. “I will be fucking you in bed. I am not fucking you now.” He sucked the end of Anakin’s cock into his mouth, tongue swirling around the slit, tasting his precome. 

“You could’ve done this in the library,” Anakin complained in a breathy whimper as Obi-Wan slid his cock along his tongue, letting it hit the back of his throat, beginning to slide his head up and down, lips pressing. 

Obi-Wan hummed negatively around his cock, and Anakin moaned, his hands jumping to Obi-Wan’s head, digging into his hair, seeking support. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his hands. 

“It’s alright, dear one,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back and catching his breath, his hand stroking quickly. “There are security cameras everywhere, Anakin. I’m not going to get fired, I like my job. Kissing you was risky enough.”

“Ugh, fine,” Anakin said, disgusted. “So responsible.”

Obi-Wan smiled widely at him. “Yes, that is the point of me, isn’t it? I’m here to take care of you. I can’t take care of you if I’m not nearby.” His mouth returned to Anakin’s cock, sucking him gently, stroking his balls.

“Thank you,” Anakin murmured. “I… I need your help, I can’t… I can’t do this alone.” 

Obi-Wan could tell he was very close to coming, his cock was so very hard, his balls tight against his body. He slid his fingers back, seeking the soft skin of Anakin’s ass. He stroked gently, and Anakin came, whimpering, “Oh… oh my God, Obi-Wan...” Obi-Wan swallowed it all with satisfaction, licking him clean. 

Anakin slumped back against the door, breathing hard. He laughed, voice saturated with pleasure. “I’d always imagined sucking you off, not the other way around.”

“I’m sure we can make that happen at some point,” Obi-Wan smirked as he stood up, grabbing Anakin’s hand and leading him down the hallway. “I have other priorities right now.”

“Yes, yes, good, good.” Anakin nodded happily, looking around with curiosity. “You sure do have a lot of books. I thought you were a librarian, this place is a mess!”

Obi-Wan glanced at the precarious stacks, and shrugged. “I know exactly where everything is, so don’t move anything and my organization system is perfect.”

“Perfect for you,” Anakin complained. “How is anyone else supposed to find anything?”

“You radically overestimate the number of people I invite inside my home, let alone permit to touch my books.” Obi-Wan laughed, and opened the bedroom door, pushing Anakin gently towards the bed. “They are mostly expensive and delicate, Anakin. Besides, my wards are extremely strong. I don’t host guests.”

“I’m special,” Anakin smiled widely.

“You are extremely special, Anakin, yes. Lay down.” He pushed and Anakin flopped dramatically, sprawling out, still grinning. “Good. Shirt and shoes off, please.” He obeyed immediately, kicking off his sneakers and stripping down, exposing miles of golden skin.

Obi-Wan began methodically shrugging off his blazer, unbuttoning his vest and oxford, pulling off his tie. Anakin put his hands behind his head and watched with satisfaction as Obi-Wan removed layer after layer. “How are you not hot wearing all that?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Used to it, I guess. The library’s always slightly chilly.” He stepped to his bedside table, tossing out lube and a condom. Anakin happily picked up the lube, uncapping it and spreading it on his fingers, touching himself. Obi-Wan’s eyes got caught watching Anakin sink a finger inside himself, and he shook his head, returning his focus to removing his pants. 

Anakin hummed in approval when Obi-Wan was finally naked, his eyes fixed on his cock. He slipped another finger inside, fucking himself gently. “Please, Obi-Wan, c’mon, hurry up.” 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and knelt in between Anakin’s spread legs, pushing them open wider. “My turn,” he said, tapping at Anakin’s hand to pass the lube. Anakin smiled and pulled his fingers out, adjusting himself to expose his ass as much as possible. Obi-Wan smiled and kissed Anakin’s stomach gently before sliding two of his own fingers in, pushing into Anakin’s slick heat. 

Anakin’s eyes rolled back, his head dropping back to the mattress. “Yes, finally...”

“Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice dropping to a low rumble. He scissored his fingers, opening him up more. “Relax.”

“I’m ready,” Anakin whimpered. Obi-Wan gave him a doubtful look, and Anakin repeated more insistently, “I am!”

Obi-Wan added a third finger, and Anakin moaned, eyes widening slightly. Obi-Wan gave him a knowing look. “I’ll be the judge, darling.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Anakin breathed. He contracted his stomach, tilting his hips and rearranging himself, his hands moving to pull his legs towards his head and splaying them open. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, fucking him harder with his fingers. Anakin whined, “Really, I promise, I’m ready, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and pulled his fingers out. “Good enough, I suppose.” He tore the foil packet, rolling on the condom and dispensing more lube. 

Anakin watched with an excited grin. “Yes!”

Obi-Wan looked at him fondly, crawling up his body to hover above him, chest to chest, kissing him deeply as he lined up the tip of his cock with Anakin’s entrance. Anakin wrapped his legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in. Obi-Wan kissed him again, and deliberately pushed his hips forward, sinking into Anakin’s tight body.

They both exhaled hard, Obi-Wan’s world collapsed, his attention centered entirely on the hot pressure surrounding his cock—the satisfying slide as he sunk more and more of himself inside. The first long thrust seemed to take a million years, it seemed to happen all at once. Anakin’s eyes rolled back, and he made an indeterminate happy noise. They hung suspended for a long moment as they both adjusted. “Fuck, darling, you’re so tight,” Obi-Wan sounded wounded. “You feel so good, do you feel good?”

“Yes,” Anakin panted. “Please, please fuck me now, I want you to, please—”

Obi-Wan pulled back slightly and pushed back in gently, moving his hips around carefully and sliding his cock in and out, trying to make sure Anakin was comfortable, ready to be fucked properly. “Very good, Anakin, nearly there.”

Anakin’s arms tightened around him. “Harder please, now, Obi-Wan. Fuck me harder, now!”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan said, voice rough, his pace speeding up, his cock moving with more and more force. He began fucking him with deep, even strokes, the sound of their hips slapping together growing louder, and Anakin whined in appreciation. “You feel so good to me, sweetheart, thank you, you’re so good for me, letting me fuck you.”

Anakin nodded vigorously, staring at his mouth. Obi-Wan smiled, and Anakin smiled back, his eyes radiating happiness. He was hard again, and Obi-Wan pushed up and back onto his knees, pulling Anakin’s legs over his shoulders, gripping his hips and fucking him hard, intentionally pressing against the spot that made Anakin whine and twitch. Obi-Wan murmured, “Touch yourself, Anakin, darling, if you want, please.” 

Anakin nodded, his hand rising to stroke himself, and looked speculative. “Will you… will you come on my stomach, so I can… So I can use...”

Obi-Wan’s rhythm broke, his hips stuttering. “If… if you want,” he shook his head and smiled again. “Whatever you want, I’ll take care of you, I’ll do it, I promise.”

Anakin nodded at him, fingers sliding along the base of his cock, voice encouraging. “What I want most of all is to see you come, Obi-Wan, please, come on me, I want to see—”

Obi-Wan pulled out, and hastily removed the condom, stroking himself quickly. He was so close, so incredibly close. He looked back up and met Anakin’s blue eyes, and felt the dam in his mind crack open, his orgasm spilling out in an overwhelming rush of pleasure. He aimed his cock as best he could, watching transfixed as his come glistened white as it landed on Anakin’s golden stomach and hard cock. Anakin smiled widely, his fingers collecting it as fast as possible, using it to stroke himself faster and faster. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Obi-Wan finished, feeling lightheaded and almost stoned. He sat back on his heels, watching with a lazy smile as Anakin came too, his come mixing with Obi-Wan’s on his stomach and chest. They stared at each other for a long, incredulous pause, catching their breath. Anakin looked just as hazy with pleasure as Obi-Wan felt. 

Obi-Wan collapsed next to Anakin on the bed, feeling totally wiped out. Anakin hummed happily, pulling his shirt over and cleaning himself off before tucking himself into Obi-Wan’s side, nuzzling his head into his neck and tangling their legs. Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around him and held him close. “It will all be alright, Anakin.”

“I know,” Anakin said drowsily. “I’ve got you now.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead and relaxed. “Yes, I’m here. I’ve got you.” He squeezed him tight. “Sleep, Anakin, you’re safe now.”

“I’m safe,” Anakin murmured with a small smile, and fell asleep.

Anakin waited for Master Qui-Gon to fall asleep. That was always step one. He would sit with a modicum of patience as Qui-Gon had his final cup of herbal tea, did his relaxing kata, and closed the door to his room. Then, he would wait with bated breath until he felt the ripples in the Force of Qui-Gon’s consciousness even out. At the first snore, he bolted. 

He had a set of clothes that he kept in the hidden passage beneath the Temple. He’d found the exit by accident many years before. He’d wanted very badly to escape all the rules and restrictions, all the observation and criticism. His Master was admittedly an exception, and was always on his side—but it didn’t make Anakin’s time at the Temple any better, in his humble opinion. The rest of the Padawans were either jealous or disdainful or somehow both. The other Jedi Masters were worse.

It was exhausting and depressing. 

He’d started sneaking out to find the podracing circuit, and it had been the salvation of his teenage years. The freedom and anonymity were so relaxing, and it was nice to be good at something without being the Chosen One. Just talented. He made friends with a circle on the lower levels, and began to feel more like a person than he’d felt since he’d left Tatooine as a boy. 

As he grew older, his friends began dragging him out for celebratory drinks after his inevitable victories. That was when Anakin discovered alcohol, and how much fun it was to completely forget who he was and what was expected of him. He discovered, to his great amusement, that he was considered handsome, and he very much liked the attention that it got. 

He slid into his tight black pants and leather jacket, haphazardly folding his tunics and tabards and stowing them away. He rolled his shoulders back and felt his cares slip away. With a small smile, he snuck out of the Temple, and down into the underbelly of Coruscant. There wasn’t a race tonight, but he needed to get to the Outlander. 

He had someone to see. 

The Outlander was packed, of course. The crush of bodies was familiar and promising. The Force was saturated with the general hazy, happy atmosphere of drinks, drugs, and casual sex. Anakin slipped nimbly between crowds of people, around dancing and kissing couples, and made directly for the bar. He nodded to the bartender and slid a few credits across, waiting contentedly for a drink to be slid back in return. 

He felt eyes on him, and it made Anakin smile with satisfaction. He finished his drink quickly and tapped the counter, getting another one almost immediately. He drank that one a little more slowly, but still finished it quickly. He had never managed to acquire much of an alcohol tolerance, and he wanted to be tipsy as soon as possible.

A twi’lek woman appeared at his elbow, and he raised an eyebrow at her revealing outfit. She looked slightly drunk, and very friendly. He tossed the bartender another few credits and tipped his head sideways towards her. The bartender rolled his eyes and poured them both another, sliding the drinks over with a knowing flourish and turning to his other customers. The twi’lek purred with happiness and they clicked glasses together, knocking it back. 

She ran her fingers up and down his sleeve, “You come here often, sweet thing?”

“Often enough,” he smiled widely. She was very beautiful, with gleaming blue skin and abundant curves. He felt the eyes on his back more strongly than ever. It was working. “Wanna dance?”

“I’d love that,” she winked, and grabbed his hand. He finished his drink and set the glass down with a decisive click, letting her pull him towards the dance floor. The music had a pulsing rhythm, and it was so loud he could feel it in his bones. He slid his hands onto her body, pulling her close and began to move with her in time. She sighed happily and pressed against him, moving her hips in an undulating pattern. It was quite pleasant, and Anakin began to lose himself in the moment. 

“What are you doing?” An unamused, accented voice cut through the music and chatter. Anakin felt a surge of adrenaline, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. “Stop.” 

Anakin did not stop. The twi’lek, oblivious to the danger, twirled in his arms, pressing her back against his chest and slid her ass seductively against his pants. He smiled, sliding his hands around to hold her close.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and jerked him backwards. The twi’lek huffed in annoyance, looking over her shoulder and putting her hands on her hips. Anakin lazily turned his head, looking behind him into familiar golden eyes. The Sith who had once been Obi-Wan Kenobi was frowning, and looking between him and the twi’lek with pursed lips. “I told you to stop.” 

“You’re not my Master,” Anakin said provocatively, reaching back for the twi’lek. 

“Am I not?” Obi-Wan’s voice was menacing. He waved a hand at the twi’lek and said, “You will go away.”

“I will go away,” she said with a vacant smile, immediately turning and heading back to the bar. Anakin sighed as he watched her walk away, hips swaying seductively.

“Come with me,” Obi-Wan’s voice offered no room for argument. His hand found Anakin’s shoulder again, and began to guide him relentlessly towards the door. 

“I was having a nice time, you know.” Anakin complained for the sake of complaining. “I could tell in the Force she would have happily taken me home.”

“You are a terrible Jedi,” Obi-Wan snapped at him. “I cannot believe that Qui-Gon lets you get away with this. I never would have.”

“Well, you fell to the dark side, so sorry but I don’t trust your judgment,” Anakin snarked. The alcohol was hitting him a bit, making everything a bit softer and less serious. “Who’s the real terrible Jedi?”

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan squeezed his hand hard on Anakin’s shoulder, making him swallow down a spike of arousal. “Don’t talk about things that you don’t understand.”

“Whatever,” Anakin rolled his eyes and let Obi-Wan pull him outside. The street was cold and quiet compared to the hot crush inside, and it almost made Anakin’s ears ring with the abrupt absence of sensation. He shrugged the hand off his shoulder and crossed his arms. “What do you want?”

“You to stop testing me, for one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was still very unamused. He straightened his black tunics forcefully, and gave Anakin a knowing, displeased look. 

Anakin pouted slightly. “Not everything’s about you, Obi-Wan.”

“This is,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing vaguely to Anakin’s outfit and the club behind them. “This is unacceptable.”

“What I do isn’t up to you!” Anakin’s eyes flicked between Obi-Wan’s, and he took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to keep talking, and Obi-Wan slapped a hand over his lips. 

“It should be,” Obi-Wan said menacingly. “You make terrible choices.”

Anakin’s voice was muffled by the hand. “Do not.”

Obi-Wan glared at him, sliding his hand around to grab Anakin firmly by the back of the neck. Anakin exhaled sharply and Obi-Wan pulled him into an alley and then pushed him roughly against the wall. They were standing very close, and the movement Anakin’s breathing almost brought their chests together. Obi-Wan smelled like alcohol and smoke, but underneath there was something elusive and intoxicating. 

“You are such a brat,” Obi-Wan said in a dark undertone. “Someone should fix that.”

“Who?” Anakin panted. “You?”

“If I must,” Obi-Wan growled, and kissed him fiercely. 

Anakin whimpered and melted, letting Obi-Wan press him against the wall, their lips moving together insistently. The rest of the world fell away completely, and he was lost in the feeling of Obi-Wan licking into his mouth, taking possession, their tongues tangling together. His cock throbbed, and Obi-Wan kicked his feet apart and pushed their hips together. Anakin instinctively rocked against him, rubbing his growing erection against the hardness in Obi-Wan’s pants. 

Obi-Wan used the Force to hold him in place, and Anakin broke the kiss with a gasp, his head clunking back against the wall. Obi-Wan’s mouth moved down his neck, the rough, soft texture his beard was maddening as he sucked a purple mark into the soft skin of Anakin’s throat. Obi-Wan’s hands slid from Anakin’s hips around to grab his ass and then slid down his thighs, pulling Anakin’s legs up around his hips. 

Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders and held him tight, feeling totally consumed by the pleasure of being crushed against the wall by Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan bit the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, and Anakin’s eyes slid shut. He was panting for air, taking short, rapid breaths and moaning quietly. Obi-Wan slid one of his hands back, and pressed his fingers against Anakin’s ass through his pants. 

Anakin moaned very loudly when he first felt the sensation of Obi-Wan using the Force to open him up, pressing an intangible finger in his tight entrance, fucking him open with extremely precise control. It felt like he was sliding in a long, smooth toy—penetrating Anakin over and over, stretching him and making him ready. Anakin opened his eyes and stared into Obi-Wan’s hooded gaze, his mouth falling open as he panted. 

“What would the Jedi think to see you like this?” Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. “Desperate for it, panting like a schutta for my cock in a dirty alley?”

Anakin whined and shook his head. Obi-Wan smirked and pressed harder with his fingers, the size of his Force fingers growing, shoving against Anakin’s prostate and making him moan desperately, “Please, please, I want it, please.”

“I do like when you beg for it,” Obi-Wan spoke against the skin beneath his ear, making his cock throb with an almost painful jolt of arousal. “But you’re forgetting something very important.”

“No…” Anakin murmured, trying to fight Obi-Wan’s hold on his hips in the Force to get friction on his cock. He whined in frustration when Obi-Wan’s control was too strong, keeping him in place. “No, I’m not.”

Obi-Wan dropped his legs and stepped back. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils blown, and Anakin slumped against the wall and stared at Obi-Wan’s kiss-swollen lips as they pursed into a displeased line. Obi-Wan looked annoyed. “I’m growing rather tired of this game.” 

Realizing that he’d been released from Obi-Wan’s hold in the Force, Anakin moved a hand immediately to palm his cock and groaned, his eyelids fluttering closed at the sweet pressure. Obi-Wan scowled and grabbed his wrists, squeezing tightly. “You are such an impatient brat.”

“Am not,” Anakin sulked. “It hurts, I want to come.”

Obi-Wan transferred both wrists to one hand and wrapped the other hand around Anakin’s Padawan braid, pulling it tight. “Then you will ask me properly.”

“But…” Anakin whined. He knew what Obi-Wan wanted, and wanted to give it to him—but he couldn’t. “Qui-Gon is my Master.”

“He’s doing a terrible job!” Obi-Wan barked. He tugged on Anakin’s hair, his voice was earnest. “I would take care of you. I know you’re unhappy, Anakin. It’s because you’re not a Jedi and you should be with me.”

“I am a Jedi,” Anakin whined, feeling hopeless. “I have to be.”

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan’s words turned into a caress. “You can be anything you want, Anakin. You don’t owe the Council anything.”

Suddenly all of the drinks felt like they caught up with Anakin at once. It felt like he was spinning, and the world was blurring. He realized his eyes were watering. “My mom wanted me to. I told her I would!”

“Your mother wanted you to be free, Anakin.” Obi-Wan kissed him gently, his hands releasing his firm hold on Anakin’s hair and wrists to cradle his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks, wiping away a tear as it fell. He stared meaningfully into Anakin’s eyes. “So be free.”

Anakin pushed his cheek into Obi-Wan’s hand, seeking the contact, the words echoing through his mind. “I don’t know what that means, Obi-Wan.” He sniffled. “I don’t think I’ve ever been free.”

“I can teach you,” Obi-Wan pushed his forehead against Anakin’s briefly, and pulled his head back, eyes intent and serious. “Let me teach you how to be free.”

Anakin felt overwhelmed, and leaned forward, seeking Obi-Wan’s lips, kissing him with all the desperation of years of painful silences and frustration. He wanted to be free. He hated being a Jedi. He was so lonely.

Obi-Wan wrapped him in his arms, kissing him back with infinite reassurance. He pressed Anakin back against the wall, letting him feel the comforting, protecting crush of his body. He murmured against Anakin’s lips. “Ask me.” 

It felt like something cracked, and Anakin opened his eyes. “Please… please, Master, I want…”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a passionate kiss, rewarding him, moving his hands back down Anakin’s body to his ass, grabbing and squeezing gently. Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan moved his hands to deftly open Anakin’s pants and pulled them down, kneeling in front of him, licking and sucking immediately on the head of Anakin’s hard cock. 

Anakin slapped his hands back against the wall to prevent wrapping them in Obi-Wan’s hair. The hot, wet sensation of Obi-Wan’s mouth sucking him in, deeper and deeper, made him moan helplessly. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, and Anakin barely kept his hips still—all he could feel was Obi-Wan’s lips pressing so sweetly against the length of his cock as the head slid down the tongue, hitting the back of his throat. 

“I’m—” Anakin gasped. “I’m so close, I’m going to—”

Obi-Wan hummed again encouragingly, his hand coming up to stroke Anakin’s balls back to the sensitive skin of his ass, gently pressing. Anakin whined, overwhelmed by the teasing, gentle strokes of Obi-Wan’s fingers, the glide of his mouth. He looked down, making strong eye contact with Obi-Wan’s golden, knowing stare. He made a noise deep in his throat and came, shuddering as he spilled his come down Obi-Wan’s throat. 

“Very good, Apprentice,” Obi-Wan murmured, kissing the tip of his cock one last time before standing up. Anakin nodded, feeling shaky with residual pleasure. He felt like he was floating, he felt like he was dissolving. He felt so free. A smile grew on his face, starting small and growing wide and incredulous as Obi-Wan returned to his position between his legs, lifting him back up and holding him steady at the optimal height with the Force. 

Obi-Wan gave him an incredibly fond, possessive look, tugging his own pants open and freeing his cock. Anakin whined at the size of it, how hard it was—how much Obi-Wan liked this, and how much he wanted him. He wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan’s hips again, trying to pull him as close as possible, savoring his proximity. 

“Your eyes are beautiful,” Obi-Wan whispered affectionately, pulling a packet of lube from his back pocket and spreading it on himself. “Gold suits you.”

“What?” Anakin asked, his heart stopping for a moment before beginning to pound. “I… I’ve… Have I…”

Obi-Wan nodded, lining up his slicked cock with Anakin’s prepared entrance. “You’re coming with me, Anakin, you can’t go back. Do you understand? You’re mine now.” Anakin whined and nodded, and Obi-Wan pressed the tip of his cock inside, exhaling hard as he pressed forward with his hips, sheathing himself inside. Anakin’s eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a loud moan as he took Obi-Wan’s cock completely. 

“Yes, thank you, yes, Master,” Anakin panted. At the title, Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward, and he groaned, beginning to fuck Anakin hard, pressing him against the wall. The darkened alleyway began to fill with the sound of their rough breathing, of Obi-Wan’s slicked cock sliding in and out, their hips meeting with increasing force. Obi-Wan groaned and began to fuck him harder. 

“Finally, finally, my Apprentice,” Obi-Wan muttered, voice rough and low with the effort of pounding his cock into Anakin’s tight body. “My Anakin.”

“Yes,” Anakin agreed helplessly. He was lost in Obi-Wan’s eyes, in the feeling of being taken like this, so totally claimed, owned, needed. “Yours, Master.” Obi-Wan buried his face in Anakin’s neck and groaned, his strokes growing uneven and more forceful. “Only yours.” 

“Mine,” Obi-Wan growled against the skin of Anakin’s throat, thrusting hard once more and then exhaling a shuddery breath, making a loud, low noise as he came. He collapsed against Anakin, and Anakin wrapped his arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, keeping him inside as he finished. Obi-Wan pressed a gentle kiss against his neck and pulled back, looking into his eyes with a tender expression that made Anakin tighten his hold reflexively. 

“Yours,” Anakin agreed in a happy undertone. 

Obi-Wan smiled and slipped his cock out, and Anakin watched with an amused, baffled expression as Obi-Wan used the Force to clean the mess off their bodies. He pulled up his pants and asked, “Do you have different rules about frivolous uses of the Force than I’m used to?”

“It’s all good practice,” Obi-Wan smirked at him. “No use of the Force is truly frivolous if you are using it to improve your control.”

Anakin smiled. “Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan nodded, satisfied. “Do you want to go to Tatooine? I’ve been keeping an eye on your mother, you know. She’s doing well.”

“Really?” Anakin perked up. “She is?”

“She’s married and free,” Obi-Wan nodded, giving him a warm smile. 

Anakin’s smile turned into a true grin, and it felt like the weight of the galaxy slipped off his shoulders. He never had to go back to the Temple. He could go see his mom, and they could go now. Obi-Wan gave him a proud, possessive look, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. They left the alleyway together, and headed out into the night. 

He was free.

Obi-Wan stared at his comlink, willing it to chime. 

Anakin was more than an hour late for his check-in. This scenario, while admittedly irritating beyond reason, was not itself unusual. Anakin had a habit of only obeying direct orders when he felt like it. Obi-Wan was almost… used to that. 

Almost. 

The only problem was that Obi-Wan had specifically and repeatedly made sure that Anakin understood how important it was that he not mess up the operation that night. How essential it was for them to remain in contact. They were undercover at a diplomatic event on Tanaab, trying to identify the purchaser of a bioweapon that destroyed sentience, creating ‘perfect’ slaves. 

This was not the time to fool around. 

Obi-Wan gave his comlink one last frustrated glare, and then got up. The hotel room was too quiet. He’d waited long enough, and he needed to make sure that Anakin hadn’t gotten into trouble. He slipped into his casual undercover clothing with a frown. 

He should have expected this. Anakin had been far, far too excited about the presence of the Zeltronian delegation, with their beautiful, curvy, pink-skinned ambassadors who exuded erotic pheremones. Obi-Wan had a very bad feeling indeed about where he would find his wayward-former-Padawan as he left his room, heading for the lifts. 

The hotel and conference center stretched out over many acres, a huge convention complex. Agricultural science and technology exhibitions were set up in all the halls, and everywhere around him representatives from various agrobusiness, finance, transport, and research concerns milled around, making contacts. 

Obi-Wan made his way towards the bar with a scowl. He might as well start there. It was where he’d specifically asked Anakin not to be, so doubtless it was where he would find him. Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched with frustration. 

Walking into the crowded bar was like walking into a sauna. The music was incredibly loud—so loud that he could feel it vibrating in his bones. It was dark, but there were distracting flashes of bright colored lights from the dance floor. It smelled like pheromones, alcohol, and sweat. 

Obi-Wan’s mood grew exponentially less pleased as he felt the increasing ambient effects of the Zeltronian presence begin to flush him with arousal. Their peculiar scent made people want to touch each other, and Obi-Wan did not appreciate the interference with his own judgement or the presumable impact on the choices of his missing Padawan. 

He felt out with the Force, trying to get a read on the room. His head felt a little woozy already. Where was Anakin?

Anakin’s presence in the Force was not subtle, fortunately, and Obi-Wan was able to follow it to him like a beacon—keeping half his attention in front of him and half lost in the Force. He slipped around dancing and kissing couples, raising an eyebrow at some of the sartorial choices of the partygoers. The Hapans and Zeltronians were almost ethereally beautiful, and both had a habit of wearing clothes with strategic cut-outs. 

It was… distracting. 

Finally he could sense that he was drawing close. He’d wound his way to the very back of the bar, coming upon a dark booth filled with sprawled limbs and tangled bodies. He peered in with a frown, seeing Anakin sitting relaxed in the back, one arm thrown around a Zeltronian woman and the other around Hapan man, his posture loose and his expression too satisfied. 

“Excuse me!” Obi-Wan said sharply. “What are you doing?”

The heads of everyone in the booth turned as one to look at him, and Obi-Wan suddenly felt the evaluating stare of everyone sitting at the table. He resisted the urge to straighten his jacket, and instead just gave Anakin a meaningful glare. Anakin grinned widely in return, his eyes slightly hazed. “Oh, hello! Did you come to join us?”

Obi-Wan swallowed down the urge to throttle him. “No, obviously not. Let’s go.”

“Who’s that?” The Hapan man murmured loudly in the direction of Anakin’s ear. 

Anakin tilted his head to the side, opening his mouth to explain, “He’s—”

The Zeltronian woman suddenly laughed, seemingly having made up her mind about the situation. “Tell your daddy you can stay out later, alright?” She winked at Obi-Wan. “We’ll have him back soon.”

“Yeah,” Anakin’s face split into a wide grin, his white teeth flashing before his expression changed, and he gave Obi-Wan something resembling a pout. His lips were very pink. “Please, daddy? Just a little longer?”

Please, daddy?

Obi-Wan blinked. He swallowed, feeling his face flush with heat. It must have been the ambient aphrodisiacs, surely—that word wouldn’t usually make his cock throb like that. Surely not. “No, young one. We need to go now.”

“Ugh, daddy, it’s not fair...” Anakin whined, already obediently beginning to extricate him from the embrace of the people around him. They muttered mutinously, and Anakin gave them fond pats as he crawled over and away, making for the edge of the booth. Obi-Wan watched his progress, still feeling a bit like a concussion grenade had gone off in his brain.

Daddy…

“Let’s go,” he said again, his words coming out a little lower and rougher than he’d intended. Anakin gave him a startled look as he stood up, his eyes wide and his pupils blown. Obi-Wan turned and began walking away quickly, feeling Anakin trailing after him obediently in the Force. Good.

“Don’t be mad at me, daddy,” Anakin’s husky murmur suddenly filled his ear, and Anakin pressed up against his back. “Please, I was trying to follow a lead.”

“You missed check-in,” Obi-Wan ground out, ignoring that blasted word and continuing to walk straight and fast. They were almost out of the bar, almost out of the fog of lustful pheromones that were driving him insane. 

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Anakin whined. “I was trying—”

“Stop calling me that!” Obi-Wan cut him off, giving him a sharp look. 

“Why?” Anakin smirked. He poked at Obi-Wan’s doubtlessly pink cheek. “I think you like it.”

“That’s not...” Obi-Wan sighed and looked away. It was pointless to deny it. He gave Anakin a raised eyebrow and spoke with a final tone. “Regardless, stop it.” Anakin grinned at his victory and Obi-Wan shook his head. “Just.. please... not in public, alright?” 

“Alright,” Anakin said agreeably, before adding in an undertone. “Thank you, daddy...” 

Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared and he walked faster. They’d finally reached the clear air of the convention hallway, free from the fog of the bar. He took a deep breath, trying to get rid of the lingering effects of the pheromone. Anakin was still walking very close to his back.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Did you at least make any progress?”

“Yeah,” Anakin’s tone was still slightly bratty. “I had it totally under control, I was going to be back in the room soon. There was no need for you to come down.”

“Indeed?” Obi-Wan’s arousal wasn’t dissipating fast enough, and Anakin’s whiny insolence was making him want to… He coughed again. “I’m unsurprised you think that’s the case.” Anakin elbowed him in the side in rebuttal, and Obi-Wan shot him a glare. “Don’t push it.”

“C’mon, daddy, don’t be mad...” Anakin’s bottom lip pouted, his eyes wide again. 

Obi-Wan huffed with frustration. “What did I literally just ask you not to do, Anakin?”

Anakin pretended to look thoughtful, still walking too close to Obi-Wan’s side. Obi-Wan reflexively reached out a hand, grabbing the back of Anakin’s neck, pushing and keeping him back. He squeezed to nonverbally communicate ‘stay-away’ and let go, ignoring to the best of his ability Anakin’s low whine in response to being held. 

He pushed the call button for the lift and stared straight ahead at the doors. Anakin hovered on the edge of too close, but not technically pushing it. Obi-Wan gave him a sideways look, trying to gauge his level of intoxication. He definitely seemed high on the pheromones, and had probably had a couple glasses of alcohol. “How are you feeling, young one?”

Anakin gave him an affectionate smile. “I’m feeling fine, Master, I'm not sick or anything. I’ll be sober soon, I promise.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan sighed as the lift doors opened, and he stepped inside, frowning as he selected the correct floor. The doors slid shut, and they were alone. “Why did you miss check-in, Anakin?”

“Hmm?” Anakin asked vaguely, looking up and meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “What?” Obi-Wan realized Anakin had been staring at how his body looked in non-Jedi clothes. Obi-Wan’s black pants and jacket were tighter fitting than usual, and it seemed that Anakin found it distracting. 

Obi-Wan repressed a smile. “I see I’ll have to wait until you’re sober to get any useful information out of you.”

“Probably,” Anakin nodded, his eyes falling back to Obi-Wan’s pants. “Can we...”

“Can we what?” Obi-Wan chuckled knowingly. Anakin gave him a begging look, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, refusing to indulge him. The lift stopped and opened its doors, and Obi-Wan walked out with Anakin tagging at his heels again. 

“You know…” Anakin said conspiratorially. “Can we fuck?”

Obi-Wan coughed, feeling like he’d tried to breathe and laugh at the same time. He gave Anakin a fond, disbelieving look. “Maybe, Anakin.”

Anakin looked like he wasn’t sure if he should be elated or disappointed. “Maybe? Maybe what? Maybe yes? Maybe no?”

“You’ve been rather naughty, young one,” Obi-Wan teased. He looked around the empty hallway, checking their surroundings. They were nearly back to their room.

“I have?” Anakin asked breathily, as if his birthday had come early. He was totally focused on Obi-Wan, oblivious to where they were walking and almost stumbling over his feet. “I’ve been bad?”

“Force sake, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, exasperated. “Why are you like this?” He finally opened the door to their room and pushed Anakin inside with a gentle nudge in the Force. 

“I’m so sorry, Master, I don’t mean to be bad,” Anakin gasped, looking over with alarm, thrown off balance by being maneuvered by Obi-Wan’s telekinesis. His cheeks were flushed crimson, and Obi-Wan could see the outline of his hard cock in his pants. Still under the influence. “Can I get… can I get punished? Will you please spank me? Please, daddy?”

Obi-Wan sighed, deliberating with himself as his cock throbbed painfully. He’d been achingly hard since the bar, and it wasn’t going away—but, it was probably not at all morally correct to have rough sex with one’s former Padawan while he was drunk and doped up on an aphrodisiac. 

Anakin seemed to sense Obi-Wan’s internal debate and suddenly stood up straight, attempting to look and sound as sober as possible. “I mean… yeah, totally, Obi-Wan, I would like to have normal sex now like how we normally have sex.”

Obi-Wan’s face met his palm incredulously as he laughed silently to himself, giving Anakin an extremely amused, affectionate look. “You’re trying to pretend to be able to consent? I know you can’t. You clearly can’t.”

Anakin pouted, thwarted. “But I really want you to fuck me!” 

“As flattering as that certainly is, I’m afraid it still doesn’t count as consent,” Obi-Wan smiled apologetically, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling off his jacket, sighing quietly in gratitude to be out of the hot layer. “You will have to have patience, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan looked up, startled, as Anakin’s weight suddenly dropped into his lap. Anakin was straddling him on the bed, his eyes boring into Obi-Wan’s, “You can at least kiss me in the meantime, right?”

“I don’t think...” Obi-Wan pulled his head back slightly, and Anakin’s eyes filled with despair. He rocked his hips almost involuntarily against Obi-Wan, seeking friction and whining pathetically when Obi-Wan’s hands jumped up to hold him still. Obi-Wan gave him a dark look. “You’re putting a lot of faith in my ability to control myself, Anakin. That’s not fair.”

“Help me meditate, then. Help me get rid of it, Master! I’m dying with how much I need you to touch me, Obi-Wan, please, daddy, help me.” Anakin’s voice was low and fervent. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened and relaxed on Anakin’s hips, his jaw clenched. He nodded and moved mechanically, reaching out to take one of Anakin’s hands and placing it on his chest, holding it against his heart. “Very well, Anakin. Breathe with me.”

Anakin nodded, eyes sliding closed, matching Obi-Wan’s breathing exactly. His head tipped forward, and they pressed their foreheads together, curling around each other physically and in the Force, harmonizing in their bond. They sat together perfectly still for a long moment, using their energy and skill to burn through the intoxicants, purifying and refreshing their minds with their breathing. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, Obi-Wan pulled away in the Force. He opened his eyes and made eye contact with Anakin, who appeared to be blinking awake owlishly. Obi-Wan smiled, satisfied by the clarity and sharpness he saw there. “Better, Anakin?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, thank you,” Anakin smiled sheepishly. “I was… That’s strong stuff.” Obi-Wan gave him a stern ‘I-told-you-so’ of a look and Anakin laughed defensively. “You were right, alright!” He leaned forward, pecking Obi-Wan with a gentle kiss. “Thank you, daddy.”

Obi-Wan groaned, his cock throbbing. “Anakin—”

“Please, daddy,” Anakin murmured, moving his mouth next to Obi-Wan’s ear, sucking on his neck and beginning to roll his hips seductively, rubbing their cocks together in a maddeningly slow way. “Will you still fuck me, daddy? I need you to fuck me so hard, please, Obi-Wan, daddy, please—”

Obi-Wan needed Anakin to shut up, immediately, so he grabbed the back of his neck and crashed their lips together, kissing him desperately.

Anakin moaned with satisfaction, kissing him back, their tongues tangling together as the rate of Anakin’s movement sped up, pressing harder and harder against his cock. 

Obi-Wan pulled his head back, looking at Anakin with a heavy-lidded gaze. His breathing was unsteady, but his voice intent. “Stop, get off, and bend over my knee, Anakin. You’ve very naughty, haven’t you?”

Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut with a small blissful sigh as he nodded. He stood up, stepping out of his boots, unfastening and pulling down his pants, and exposing his hard cock. He palmed it once before Obi-Wan hummed negatively and patted on his thigh. Anakin grinned and bent over, stretching out and positioning himself on Obi-Wan’s lap. 

Obi-Wan’s hand came up to rest on the soft skin of Anakin’s bare ass, rubbing gently until he was settled. “I think five should be plenty, baby, if you’ll be so good as to count them for me, please. Can you count for daddy?”

“Oh, thank you, please, daddy, yes, thank you!” Anakin babbled, rocking to press his hard cock against Obi-Wan’s thigh, giving him a hopeful look over his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan smiled back at him, enjoying his flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. He raised a hand and smacked it hard against Anakin’s ass, spanking the right cheek with a sharp crack. Anakin gasped, his hips jerking, and he spoke breathily. “One, daddy!”

Obi-Wan rubbed the spot he’d struck gently. “Very good, Anakin.” He moved his hand to the other cheek, smacking him again.

“Two!” Anakin gasped, audibly smiling. Obi-Wan reflexively smiled back at the happy sound. Anakin liked this so much. He swatted the same side again quickly and Anakin moaned, “Three!”

“Good, baby, you’re being such a good boy,” Obi-Wan said softly, letting his fingers teasingly stroke the sensitive skin of Anakin’s inner thighs, moving close and away from his entrance. Anakin wiggled, trying to get his fingers back near his ass, and Obi-Wan spanked the other cheek hard.

“Ah, four!” Anakin said, whining quietly and stilling his hips. “Thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, young one,” Obi-Wan said warmly. “Last one.”

Anakin nodded vigorously, and Obi-Wan enjoyed the pink shade of his blush and the pink skin of his slapped ass. He was so beautiful. Obi-Wan spanked him hard, one last time, and Anakin groaned loudly, his hips rocking. “Five, thank you, daddy, yes, please, fuck me now?”

Obi-Wan made a mockingly unsure noise, and Anakin glared at him. Obi-Wan couldn’t keep a smile from his face, and he used the Force to move Anakin from his lap to laying face down next to him on the bed.

Anakin moaned loudly at being repositioned with the Force, and Obi-Wan instructed gently, “Take off the rest of your clothes, baby, daddy wants to see you.”

“Yes, daddy,” Anakin said, pulling off his shirt, stretching out nude on the bed. Obi-Wan smiled as he undressed too, exhaling sharply in relief when he finally palmed his cock, causing Anakin to look over his shoulder suspiciously and wiggle indignantly that Obi-Wan was touching himself and not touching him. 

“A little preparation first, darling. Daddy won’t hurt you—you must be patient for me now.” Obi-Wan said absently, running his hands up the backs of Anakin’s thighs. His hands grabbed gently on the lightly pinkened cheeks of Anakin’s ass, spreading him wide so that he could spit on his entrance, using the wetness of his saliva to make it easier for his fingers to press in. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Anakin moaned as Obi-Wan began fucking him very gently with two fingers. “It feels so good, daddy, I like it so much.”

“Good, baby, very good,” Obi-Wan rumbled back absently, his attention caught on the way Anakin’s tight, warm body took his fingers. He added another one, listening for the catch in Anakin’s breath that would signal pain. It didn’t come. “That’s very good, sweetheart. I promise daddy’s going to make you feel so good.” 

He pulled his fingers out, and Anakin made a small, disappointed noise. Obi-Wan laughed—he was so cute—and summoned body oil from the ‘fresher, liberally coating both his cock and his fingers, spreading the oil around and inside Anakin’s ass, using the oil to begin fucking him again harder with his fingers. 

Anakin rocked his hips back, parting his legs slightly, trying to figure out exactly how to hold himself in order to make it easier to take Obi-Wan’s cock and grumbling when Obi-Wan just kept steadily fucking him with his fingers, preparing him thoroughly.

Obi-Wan smiled fondly at Anakin’s efforts to present himself and his bratty attitude, and slid his fingers out. He rolled Anakin onto his back and pulled his ass closer to the edge of the bed. “Are you ready, darling? Ready to take daddy’s cock?”

“Yes, please, Obi-Wan, please, daddy, I want it...” Anakin said earnestly, his eyes so wide and so full of need. Obi-Wan swallowed, he felt suddenly dizzy with arousal—his cock was painfully hard, and Anakin was so ready for him. 

Obi-Wan picked up Anakin’s legs and pushed them back and apart, opening him up and tilting him to the right angle. “Hold these here, baby, hold them still for daddy,” he ordered, and Anakin nodded his hands coming to replace Obi-Wan’s in holding his legs open wide. “Very good,” Obi-Wan murmured, pressing the head of his cock against Anakin’s entrance. 

“Yes!” Anakin said, feeling the contact, his eyes opening wider as the tip of Obi-Wan’s thick cock pressed inside. “Oh, thank you, daddy!”

Obi-Wan exhaled sharply, grabbing Anakin’s hips and thrusting forward sharply, sinking the length of his hard cock inside in one swift motion. Anakin’s eyes rolled back and he whined, and Obi-Wan began sliding in and out, working his way further and further inside until Anakin was taking his entire cock easily. “How’s that, Anakin? How’s it feel to take daddy’s cock—do you like that? Does it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” Anakin whined as the pace of Obi-Wan’s hips increased, the sound of their hips smacking together louder and louder as Obi-Wan began fucking him in earnest. He began babbling, punctuated with whimpers as Obi-Wan’s cock thrust in deep. “I love it, Obi-Wan, thank you, daddy, I love it when you fuck me! Fuck me, please, daddy, fuck me! Yes, thank you!”

Obi-Wan obeyed as best he could, thrusting his cock hard and methodically into Anakin’s tight body, doing his best to stroke inside along the sensitive area of Anakin’s prostate, pushing him closer and closer to coming. His hand, still lightly coated with oil, moved to begin jerking Anakin’s hard cock, his fingers squeezing gently as his wrist moved quickly. “Are you close to coming, sweetheart? Do you want daddy to make you come?”

“P-please,” Anakin whined brokenly. “Please, I’m so close, daddy, please...”

Obi-Wan nodded, the pace of his hips speeding up, fucking Anakin harder and harder, pounding his cock into the tight heat of Anakin’s body. “You’re so good for daddy, feel so good to me, take daddy’s cock so well, baby, you’re so perfect. I want you to come on me, come on daddy’s cock, darling, please, Anakin—”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin convulsed, his handsome, flushed face contorted in an intense orgasm that stretched out for a long moment, his cock spilling so much come into Obi-Wan’s hand that it overfilled his palm, dripping down onto his stomach and splattering his chest. 

Obi-Wan moaned loudly with approval as Anakin’s whole body tensed around his cock, it felt incredible—there was warmth building in Obi-Wan’s stomach, his pleasure growing stronger and stronger with each final thrust until he felt his orgasm suddenly overtake him, flooding him with pleasure. Obi-Wan groaned and fucked in hard once more, burying himself deep inside and pumping Anakin full of his come.

Obi-Wan realized his eyes were closed and opened them, blinking down slowly at the pleasure-filled face of Anakin who was smiling crookedly up at him. Anakin's voice was low and teasing, “Did you feel good, daddy?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan grinned back goofily. “That was… that was very good, sweetheart. Thank you.” Anakin looked extremely satisfied, and Obi-Wan pressed a kiss on his forehead, pulling out. “Let’s go shower and then go do more recon, alright? We’re two standard hours behind schedule now. It will be much harder to pull this mission off if we run out of time.”

“Worth the risk,” Anakin said lazily, letting Obi-Wan pull him to his feet and lead him to the ‘fresher. “It was worth it, daddy.”

“I hope so, baby,” Obi-Wan said fondly. “I hope so.”

The Mos Eisley cantina was a dimly-lit tavern known for its strong drinks, live music, and occasional outbreaks of shocking violence. Most star pilots who visited Tatooine spent their downtime in the cantina, making it an ideal spot to hire a starship's crew.

Obi-Wan was in a hurry, and did not appreciate the combination of smells, damp heat, and noise. There was an overwhelming babble struggling to make itself heard over the truly appalling jizz music. It was all too much, all at once. He felt a timer ticking down somewhere in the back of his mind, as if he could feel the Empire bearing down on him. 

He needed a ship. He had to get off this planet.

An intoxicated Rhodian almost spilled his drink down Obi-Wan’s front, and Obi-Wan’s hand twitched under his jacket to his hidden saber by reflex, but he managed to stop himself before cutting off an arm. It was a close call sometimes. The fall of the Republic had left him a little... jumpy.  

Obi-Wan had been on the run for about two years now, doing odd jobs for the Rebellion and trying to find and protect Force sensitive younglings. The Empire was kidnapping them, and Obi-Wan was positive that they weren’t doing anything good or kind to them. He’d been too late to protect a youngling on the nearby planet of Naboo, and that fact ate at him. 

His ship’s damaged hyperdrive ate at him even more. He needed to get off this planet.

Obi-Wan paused, his head pivoting on his neck as he searched for what had just sent a shiver down his spine. Something was odd in the Force, and it drew his eyes towards the far corner of the room. His gaze landed on the back of a man’s head, gleaming curls above wide shoulders clad in a dark brown leather jacket.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, and began steadily making his way through the crowd in his direction. The man seemed to sit up straighter, looking around for something unusual too. Obi-Wan felt a sudden wave of certainty—both that this man was more powerful in the Force than he was and that this man was his way out of here.

Obi-Wan slid smoothly into the empty facing bench of the booth, giving the Force-sensitive stranger a penetrating look. “Excuse me for interrupting, but are you a pilot?” 

The young man gave him an equal scrutiny, “Yes, I’m Anakin Skywalker. I’m captain of the Twilight.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, satisfied that his intuition, at least, had not failed yet. “I’m looking for passage to the Alderaan system. Is your ship fast?”

“Fast!” Anakin scoffed, leaning forward and looking cocky. “You’ve never heard of the Twilight?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, raising an eyebrow. “Should I have?”

“It’s the ship that made the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs,” Anakin said, as if that was supposed to mean something. Obi-Wan gave him a blank look, and Anakin continued, “I’ve outrun Imperial Starships, not the local bulky cruisers… I’m talking about Corellian ships. She’s fast enough for you. What’s the cargo?”

“Only passengers,” Obi-Wan said, looking around for listeners out of habit. Anakin seemed to catch his paranoid scanning and raised his eyebrows. Obi-Wan sighed and clarified, “One passenger, myself—and no questions asked.”

Anakin made a dismissive noise at the request. “Local trouble?”

Obi-Wan shook his head and replied, tone delicate. “Let’s say we need to avoid any Imperial entanglements.”

“That’s the trick, isn’t it.” Anakin took a long drink of his beer, putting it down hard. “You willing to put up an entire ship's worth of credits? It’ll be ten thousand, all in advance.”

“I can do two thousand now plus…” Obi-Wan did a fast calculation of how much he could reasonably ask Bail to pay without prior authorization. “Fifteen, when we get to Alderaan.”

Anakin seemed both skeptical and intrigued.  “Seventeen?” Obi-Wan just looked at him, not repeating himself or explaining. His eyes involuntarily began scanning the room again until he heard a decision. “What if I won’t take the job unless you tell me how you’re getting that extra fifteen first?”

Obi-Wan shot him a knowing look. “Too risky, I can’t have you decide to get a better offer.”

“Interesting,” Anakin smiled widely, his eyes bright and playful. Obi-Wan blinked and felt like he’d missed a step walking. He was very handsome. “So you’re saying there might be a good deal out there for me if I figure it out myself?

“I suppose.” Obi-Wan shrugged, trying to get his head back on straight. His patience was running low. “Are you going to do it or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it. You got yourself a ship.” Anakin knocked back the rest of his drink, and Obi-Wan’s eyes got stuck on how his throat moved when he swallowed. By the time Anakin set his cup down, Obi-Wan had looked away. “I’ve never been that far coreward before, it should be fun.” Anakin sounded wistful. 

Obi-Wan grimaced slightly. “It’ll be the most difficult smuggling of your career.”

“I’m not a smuggler! I run a licensed transport operation.” Anakin sounded very offended, but his eyes were full of humor. He stretched, cracking his back and then moving to the end of the bench, out of the booth. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, scooting out too. “I’m sure you do that too.”

“Whatever.” Anakin’s volume increased as they moved back towards the front of the cantina. He leaned in closer to Obi-Wan’s side, and Obi-Wan felt all of his senses light up at his proximity. He put his mouth closer to Obi-Wan's ear, and his melodic voice murmured, “When do you want to leave?”

 Obi-Wan had a bad feeling. “Is immediately an option?”

“Seriously?” Anakin sounded amused, pulling his head away to raise an eyebrow at Obi-Wan.

Both of them stopped walking immediately, their eyes shooting to the front door. Several Stormtroopers had entered, and were beginning to ask everyone for identification. The music screeched to a halt, and Obi-Wan muttered, “Yes, I’m rather in a hurry.”

Anakin sounded even more amused. “They looking for you?”

Obi-Wan growled in an undertone, turning his face away from the Imperials. “Possibly.”

“There’s a back way out.” Anakin said, still sounding far too amused at the situation. “Follow me.”

Anakin sighed as he undid the buckles that held his leather glove in place. The last few days had been exciting—exciting enough that he’d gotten his prosthetic hand slammed between loose cargo and the wall, and his two smallest fingers were bent and unusable.

It made it a pain to fly, so he had to fix it. He’d waited until he was sure that Ben, or whatever his name really was, had gone to bed, and made his way down to the engine where he kept all his tools. The repairs would be delicate but not impossible, and he didn’t want any interruptions. Any observation.

He lost himself in the flow of his work, making small adjustments. He had to keep the neural link active to test for stimuli, and it was a long, slightly painful process. Luckily, he’d basically built the damn thing himself, and was extremely good at fixing it.

Over the years, the prosthetic had gotten more damage than he thought was entirely reasonable. He apparently should’ve lost that hand multiple times, the way the prosthetic had been beat up. It probably was just an inevitability that he would have lost it anyway, not just because… 

“How did you lose your hand?”

Ben’s voice breaking the silence suddenly made him jump. It seemed that he’d at least waited until Anakin didn’t have any tools near any sensitive parts to ask, which only made Anakin more grumpy. He hadn’t wanted to be watched. He looked back at the doorway with a frown, his voice coming out curt. “What?”

“Your hand?” Ben’s tone was gentle. He pushed off the door frame and walked a bit closer. “I was just curious, I apologize if it’s a sensitive topic.”

Anakin looked at him for a long moment, taking in Ben’s earnest expression, his kind eyes. Anakin turned back to his work. He wanted to get the hand put away as fast as possible. He muttered, “I… I cut it off.”

“Why?” Ben sounded worried and upset, and Anakin’s jaw clenched. 

He explained in a low monotone, eyes fixed on his hand. “My forearm was where my slave transmitter was located. I was going to be sold, and my mom and her husband couldn’t afford me, so I cut it off and ran away. I was fourteen.”

“Anakin,” Ben’s voice was calm and soothing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do it.” Anakin shot him an annoyed look, and finished closing up the mechanism on his wrist. He sighed with satisfaction at being done—about finally getting to put his glove back on. Ben needed to go away.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not deeply sorry that it happened.” Ben said, moving closer. “Did you make the prosthetic yourself?”

“Mostly,” Anakin blushed at his approach, freezing as he reached for his glove. He looked up, searching Ben’s eyes for judgment. He didn’t find any, only warmth. He dropped his gaze, grabbing the glove. “Some used pieces I put together. It’s nothing special.”

“Yes, it is,” Ben shook his head incredulously. His eyes were fixed on all the moving parts that Anakin wanted to cover up. His metal fingers twitched almost involuntarily at being observed. “It’s very well done, Anakin.” 

It’s very well done, Anakin. 

Anakin swallowed, trying to will the blush off his cheeks. The gentle praise that Ben wouldn’t stop giving him made it difficult for him to focus. Anakin wasn’t used to anything like it, and it made him feel hot and uncomfortable. 

Ben continued, tone the same. “I can’t believe you did it yourself, it is an incredible piece of engineering, Anakin.”

Ah-na-kin.

The way Ben said his name drove him crazy, the softness of the initial A and the way the rest rolled off his tongue. Nobody else said his name like Ben did, and Anakin liked how it sounded a little too much. He was hyperaware that Ben was coming closer. 

When Anakin began to try to put the glove back on, Ben reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t yet, can I look at it a little more? It’s very intricate.”

Anakin felt his face get even hotter. “Are you sure? Isn’t it...” He trailed off, fidgeting slightly, and swallowed down a sigh when the movement made Ben take his hand away. He hadn’t moved back, though, and Anakin felt an imperceptible warmth radiating from him in the thing that Ben insisted was called ‘the Force.’ Nobody else felt like a sun in ‘the Force,’ either. 

Nobody was like Ben. He’d only known him for two incredibly stressful days and Anakin never wanted him to leave.

“Isn’t it what, Anakin?” Ben’s voice was quiet, and he bent forward slightly, looking closer at the subtle, anxious movements of his fingers. 

“I don’t know,” Anakin muttered defensively, the hand closing into a fist and reopening. “Isn’t it ugly?”

“Anakin, no.” Ben sounded sad. “It’s not.”

“It is,” Anakin was suddenly very glad that he’d only been working on his fingers, not on the connection between the prosthetic and his arm. At least his sleeves were down. He smiled, a false smile that made Ben frown at him. He dropped the expression and looked away. “My arm is pretty messed up.”

Ben made a sympathetic noise. “Will you let me see?”

“Why?” Anakin looked up at him, confused. Ben was so close, there were only inches between them, and it made Anakin feel slightly cornered. 

“I don’t know. I just need to see it.” Ben’s voice was quiet, his blue eyes so intense. “I need to see that you’re alright.”

“I’m not alright, it’s ugly,” Anakin explained, as if Ben hadn’t understood the first time. 

Ben’s hand came back to his shoulder, squeezing him gently as reassurance, and Anakin tried as hard as he could not to lean into the touch. “Let me be the judge of that.”

“Alright,” Anakin said blankly. His mind couldn’t really function well enough to argue when Ben was touching him. He used his left hand to push back the fabric of his sleeve, exposing the connection between his arm and the metal.

“Can I touch it?” Ben asked absently. Almost all of Anakin’s attention was fixed on the prolonged contact between Ben’s hand and his shoulder, and it took a second for the question to process.

He looked up, baffled. “Why?” 

“I’m not sure,” Ben said, and his voice hadn’t lost that mesmerized quality. He’d brought up his free hand, holding it back until he had permission. “Your hand is an extraordinary piece of work, Anakin. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t believe you fabricated this on your own, it looks like core-world engineering. You are extraordinarily gifted.”

Anakin’s eyes widened with each phrase, all the rolling syllables of ex-tra-or-din-ar-i-ly. His face was burning again. “That’s… fine.” He managed, slightly strangled. “You can touch it.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, his hand squeezing Anakin’s shoulder again. Anakin’s eyes slid closed at the pressure, but opened wide when he felt Ben’s fingers slide along his palm up to his wrist and then began to drag toward his elbow, toward the point of connection. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Anakin whispered. “I can feel it.”

“It’s so smooth,” Ben sounded impressed, and Anakin had never heard anything as wonderful in his life.

He felt like his mouth was numb as he tried to talk. All of his attention seemed to be focused on the progress of Ben’s fingers up his arm. “I worked hard to… make it like that.”

“You did so well,” Ben said, his voice lower. “It’s so good, Anakin.”

Anakin felt like he couldn’t breathe. He looked up, and made eye contact with Ben, who had been already looking at his face. “Is it?”

Ben smiled at him, and Anakin felt like he was melting. All the blood had left his brain ages ago, and his cock was getting insistently hard. It almost ached with how much he needed pressure. “It is, it is very good.”

Anakin let out a small, shaky breath, looking back down at Ben’s hand. “Th-thank you.”

Ben’s fingers stopped at the edge of the metal, and then softly brushed the end of his arm. “Can you feel that?”

Anakin almost laughed and almost moaned—it was so sensitive it felt like he was being branded. His voice came out husky. “I can feel it.”

“Does it feel good?” Ben asked, “Or am I hurting you?”

“You’re not,” Anakin assured him. “It feels… It feels so good.” He blushed, not having meant to say that, and not having meant to say it like that. “I mean... it doesn’t hurt.”

“Good, I’m glad it feels good.” Ben said, sweeping his fingers the same way again. Anakin made a small, involuntary noise at the sensation, his cock throbbing. The hand on his shoulder slid to his neck, cupping the back of his head. “Can I touch you more, Anakin?”

“Why?” Anakin looked for answers in Ben’s eyes, and found only lust-blown pupils and focused intent. “You want to?”

“I do want to, yes,” Ben smiled, leaning down closer. “You’ve saved my life nine times in the last two days and I can’t stop thinking about you. How much I want to touch you.” The last words were spoken millimeters from Anakin’s lips—they were so close together. He could feel Ben’s breath. 

“Ten times,” he whispered against Ben’s lips, overwhelmed.

Ben laughed, pulling back slightly. “What?” 

“I’ve saved your life ten times, Ben,” Anakin smiled at the sound of Ben’s laughter. “Not nine, ten.” He reached his left hand up tentatively, touching Ben’s jaw, feeling his soft beard with his thumb. He pulled him closer, eyes getting stuck on his lips. 

“Obi-Wan,” Ben said abruptly, and Anakin paused, frowning with confusion. Ben coughed awkwardly and tried again. “My real name is Obi-Wan.”

“I knew it, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, testing out the new name. “I knew your name wasn’t Ben.”

Obi-Wan shrugged slightly. “My bounty is higher than the net worth of Tatooine by this point, I think. I can’t really go around shouting it from the rooftops.”

Anakin shook his head, eyes still on Obi-Wan’s mouth. “I don’t care right now.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan agreed, leaning forward again, quickly closing the gap. He kissed Anakin hard, both his hands moving to tangle in Anakin’s curls, holding him still. Anakin made a muffled sound of surprise and then melted into the kiss, letting Obi-Wan cradle his head. 

Their lips moved together slowly for a moment, and the softness and sweetness of the kiss took Anakin’s breath away. Obi-Wan sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and Anakin moaned.

Obi-Wan pulled back, checking Anakin’s face. “Was that alright, dear one?”

Anakin was sure that his face couldn’t get any more flushed, but felt another wave of heat at the pet name. “Yes, I liked it, Obi-Wan.” He looked up, trying to communicate something important with his eyes. How much he wanted this. How afraid he was of doing something wrong. “I haven’t really… I don’t know how… I’m not actually…” He gestured at his metal arm, as if it explained why. 

“Ah,” Obi-Wan sounded like he’d put together the pieces, cutting him off. “Would you like to, Anakin? I don’t mind going very slowly.”

“Very slowly?” Anakin said, his mind losing coherence at the way Obi-Wan said those words like a promise. 

“Yes, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Does that sound like something you’d like to happen?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, still somewhat disbelieving that this was really happening. He’d only thought about it a million times. Thought about it and dismissed it as impossible. “You’re sure you want to?” He had to double check. Impossible.

Obi-Wan looked at him fondly, and then pulled him up, pushing him toward the door. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve wanted to since Mos Eisley, Anakin. You’re very distracting.”

“I am?” Anakin didn’t believe him. He was a runaway slave with an ugly arm. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Obi-Wan stressed. He started guiding them towards his cabin. “Anakin, you are incredible. You are the most talented pilot I’ve ever seen, and that includes all of the Jedi I’ve ever seen fly, even if you do incredibly dangerous stunts.”

“We survived!” Anakin defended himself, letting Obi-Wan direct him into his cabin. 

Obi-Wan gave him a look so fond, Anakin almost felt like crying. Nobody looked at him like… Obi-Wan did. “We did survive, and we really shouldn’t have, do you understand that? You are very skilled, Anakin.” 

“Thank you,” Anakin said weakly, letting Obi-Wan sit him down on the bed and stand between his legs. Anakin looked up at him, and felt so vulnerable. “I knew I was good at it, but… I didn’t think it was anything special. I thought loads of others were better.”

One of Obi-Wan’s hands came up to rest against Anakin’s cheek, his thumb stroking lightly. His voice was quiet and gentle. “There is nobody better than you, Anakin. You saved me. Thank you.”

Anakin looked at him with wide eyes. “I wanted to. You’re…” He trailed off helplessly, still not able to think clearly when Obi-Wan was touching him. “You’re special.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him, and it was like watching the suns rise. “Thank you, Anakin.” Anakin nodded mutely, pressing his head into Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan looked into his eyes, studying his expression. “You’ve never been with a man before?”

“Anyone,” Anakin admitted quietly. “I’ve… I’ve never wanted anyone…” He lifted and dropped his arm again, as if it explained things. “It’s ugly.”

“Anakin, my darling, it is not ugly.” Obi-Wan’s hand left his face, sliding down Anakin’s neck, making his breath catch. Obi-Wan smiled as he slid the hand across Anakin’s shoulder and down his arm, linking their fingers together.

Anakin stared at how his metal fingers looked intertwined with Obi-Wan’s. His hand had never felt this sensitive before, he was hyperaware of all their contact. “I don’t understand how you think that,” Anakin said quietly. 

“You made it, so you can see all the flaws.” Obi-Wan explained, kissing him gently on the forehead. “To me, it’s just as inexplicably incredible as you are, Anakin. I never expected to find someone like you, on a day like I’d had.”

Anakin smirked at him. “The galaxy seems out to get you.”

“Sometimes I think it is,” Obi-Wan agreed in a low voice. “Can I touch you more, Anakin? Are you comfortable with this? You can stop at any time, I won’t be mad.”

Anakin shook his head. “I don’t want to stop.”

“I can touch you?” Obi-Wan confirmed a final time, squeezing the hand linked with Anakin, and sliding his other hand into Anakin’s messy hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. 

Anakin moaned, his eyes meeting Obi-Wan’s dark gaze. “Please,” Anakin whispered. “I want it more than anything.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan murmured, using his hold on Anakin's curls to tip his head back. Obi-Wan leaned closer, his head tilting slightly to the side. Anakin’s eyes slid closed as their lips met again, and Obi-Wan kissed him gently and thoroughly, licking against Anakin’s lips, tasting the soft skin. 

Anakin moaned, and Obi-Wan’s grip on his hair tightened at the sound. Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, and Anakin let him in, their tongues tangling together as Obi-Wan took control. Anakin felt lost in the sensation, lost in how good it felt to be kissed by someone who knew how. 

Obi-Wan pulled back slightly, checking Anakin’s face and smiling at him. Anakin smiled back, feeling a surge of happiness and excitement that he’d been keeping back, so sure that Obi-Wan wasn’t interested. He was so sure that he’d leave. He still might leave, but that’s okay. He reassured himself. At least he’d always have this. He just had to do this right. How do you do it right?

It seemed like Obi-Wan read his swell of mixed emotions, and gave him a reassuring kiss on the forehead. “It’ll all be alright, Anakin. We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Anakin agreed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll teach you,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll tell you. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“What first?” Anakin asked, so hard already. “What can I do?”

Obi-Wan made a thoughtful humming noise and then stepped away. Anakin resisted the urge to pout, and Obi-Wan caught the expression and smirked slightly. “Take off your clothes.” 

“Alright.” Anakin agreed nervously. He started by kicking off his boots, putting off as long as he could the moment where he’d be taking off his shirt. It didn’t matter if Obi-Wan had already seen it. He didn’t want it out.

Obi-Wan began removing his own clothes, and that distracted Anakin enough to stop being quite so self-conscious. His eyes flicked down Obi-Wan’s bare chest, the pale skin and light hair, his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

Obi-Wan’s pants came off next, and Anakin couldn’t look anywhere but at Obi-Wan’s cock. He was hard, he wanted this, wanted him. The hard cock twitched slightly as Anakin stared at it, and Anakin’s eyes flicked up to Obi-Wan’s face. 

“Your turn, Anakin. Stand up.” His voice had taken on a soft but demanding tone that Anakin was helpless to resist. He stood up. “Very good.” Anakin felt himself flush at the praise. “Take your clothes off, Anakin. Please, I don’t want to ask again.”

“Yes, alright,” Anakin murmured defensively. He unfastened his pants and let them drop; it was easier to show his cock than his arm. He paused again, feeling vulnerable. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes moved down and back up. He seemed to notice Anakin’s hesitance and gave him a soft smile. He stepped closer. “Can I take your shirt off? I want to see you.”

Anakin nodded jerkily, and Obi-Wan’s hands slid beneath the fabric, pulling up gently until the shirt went over Anakin’s head and onto the floor. Anakin was breathing hard and unsteadily, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. 

Obi-Wan nodded, doing a quick survey with a glance down at Anakin’s body. “You are beautiful, Anakin. So beautiful it’s distracting. I can’t believe you don’t know that… you need to know it.” He pressed a hand on Anakin’s chest, right above the heart, and kissed him again, reassuring him through touch that his body was good, and that he wanted him. 

Anakin felt almost like crying as Obi-Wan walked him backward to the bed until his knees hit and he sat down again. Obi-Wan kept moving forward, putting a knee on the bed and pushing Anakin back and down, dragging him up the bed underneath him. 

Suddenly, they were tangled together, naked in a bed and the unreality made Anakin feel so happy. Obi-Wan was so warm, and he smelled so good. Obi-Wan was touching him gently, kissing down his neck and sucking on the pulse point. 

Anakin shifted his hips, trying to press his cock against Obi-Wan’s stomach. Obi-Wan pulled his head back, looking amused. “Do you need something, sweetheart?”

“Will you please…” Anakin trailed off, unable to use words. His hips shifted again. “I want…”

“Yes, alright,” Obi-Wan agreed. He began kissing down Anakin’s chest, stopping to suck on a nipple, his hands exploring down. Anakin whined as they got close to his cock. He was so hard, he needed it so bad. “I am going to touch you, open you up, make you ready, so I can fuck you, Anakin.”

Anakin whined again, his hips twitching. “Please, Obi-Wan, please, I want that, please…” 

“Very good, sweetheart. You’re doing so well, being so good for me.” Obi-Wan’s hands reached Anakin’s cock, and one slid down further to cup his balls, stroking gently. “I’m going to make you feel good, so good, I promise.” 

“Please…” Anakin said weakly, all of his attention focused on the soft, slow movement of Obi-Wan’s hand on his cock. 

“Do you have anything I could use for lube?” Obi-Wan asked suddenly. “I’d forgotten, but it’s very important.”

“I… I don’t have lube.” Anakin said, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t know I’d need it. I…” He trailed off anxiously. “Is that a big problem?”

“Do you have a medkit? I can use bacta.”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded. “I have a few. I get hurt a lot. There should be one in the ‘fresher.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said with satisfaction, pulling his hands off Anakin’s body and pushing away from him. “Though we will talk about your proclivity for injury later, Anakin.” He gave Anakin’s cock a final stroke and Anakin whined. Obi-Wan smiled widely at him. “It’s very important, darling. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” Anakin agreed, slightly grumpy. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Obi-Wan’s voice was full of humor as he stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

Anakin waited impatiently, his hand moving to stroke his own cock, unable to wait for pressure. He sighed, it felt so good, he was so hard, his cock was aching—

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Obi-Wan’s voice was still full of humor, but was lower and darker. Anakin looked over, and saw that Obi-Wan was watching him, eyes intent. 

“I needed to, it hurts,” Anakin pouted. 

Obi-Wan sighed and moved closer, throwing the medpack on the bed and kneeling between Anakin’s legs. “Will you let me put you where I want you?”

“Yes,” Anakin said warily. “Of course.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan murmured, his hands sliding under Anakin’s thighs and pulling them apart. Anakin made a low, indistinct noise and Obi-Wan shot him a smirk. Once he’d spread Anakin’s thighs, his hands slid to his calves and he bent them back towards Anakin’s head and opened them wide, exposing his ass. “Hold these here, darling. Don’t let them move.”

“Yes, okay,” Anakin agreed breathily, his hands taking Obi-Wan’s place in holding himself open. Obi-Wan took a moment to lightly touch Anakin’s metal hand up to his wrist, cupping a hand around and sliding up to the elbow, stroking the prosthetic. He leaned forward and kissed the place where it joined Anakin’s arm, and Anakin moaned loudly.

Obi-Wan smiled at him again with satisfaction, and sat back on his knees, ripping open a bacta packet and coating his fingers and his cock. He looked at Anakin’s cock as he did it, his eyes moving down to his exposed ass, and murmured, “You look so good like this, Anakin, you’re so perfect, I can’t wait to touch you, make you feel good.”

Anakin shifted, desperate for his touch. “Please, please, Obi-Wan, will you… can you… please…”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Anakin. I can and I will, I promise. I need to make this good for you, make you feel good.” His bacta coated fingers made contact with the underside of Anakin’s balls, stroking the sensitive skin down to his ass, circling gently, spreading the bacta. 

Anakin gasped with surprise at the sensation and then moaned, his head dropping back into the pillow. It felt so good. His head shot back up and he looked incredulously down when he felt Obi-Wan’s fingers begin to press inside him, sliding in and out gently, working him open. 

“Does that feel good?” Obi-Wan made eye contact and Anakin moaned at his blown pupils, his intent stare. “Do you like my fingers in your ass, sweetheart?”

“Yes, I like it,” Anakin panted. “It feels so good, I can’t believe it—” His worlds cut off abruptly as Obi-Wan began sliding them in harder and faster, working them in deeper. It felt incredible, and just kept getting better the more and more he relaxed into the sensation. Anakin groaned. “So good, Obi-Wan, please….”

“I think you’re ready,” Obi-Wan said, his voice rough. “If you still want it, do you want me to fuck you? Your ass looks so good, so ready for me, so ready for my cock.”

Anakin was nodding the whole time Obi-Wan was speaking, but didn’t cut him off, lost in the sound of his voice. “Please…”

Obi-Wan smiled, moving up the bed to hover above Anakin, lining up with cock and pressing it against him gently, the tip just beginning to slide inside. Anakin moaned loudly, and Obi-Wan kissed him, his hips thrusting gently forward as his tongue tangled with Anakin’s, slowly filling him with his cock.

Anakin broke the kiss, his head dropping back against the pillow, his expression incredulous. Obi-Wan’s cock was inside him. Obi-Wan was fucking him, wanted him, Anakin, despite the fact he was a nobody with a broken body. For some reason he almost felt like crying again, it was so good. 

Obi-Wan read his expression and gave him another kiss, even deeper. It felt like he was claiming Anakin, claiming him completely. He began sliding his cock in and out, working himself in deeper, making him take it. Anakin moaned into the kiss, holding his legs open wider. It didn’t hurt, he thought it was supposed to hurt.

“You feel so good, Anakin, so hot and tight around my cock,” Obi-Wan muttered, his tone grateful. His hips thrust forward hard on the word cock, and Anakin whined. Their hips slapped together, and Obi-Wan was completely inside. He’s taken the whole thing. “I’m going to fuck you now, do you want that? Do you want me to fuck you harder? You’re doing so well, you’re so perfect.”

“Please, please, I want it, harder, yes, please.” Anakin’s voice was a fervent mutter. “Obi-Wan, I need it, please.” His voice began to lose coherence as Obi-Wan began to fuck him properly. Suddenly, Obi-Wan slid out. Anakin looked at him, horrified. “What?”

“Turn over,” Obi-Wan said roughly. “Please, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded blankly, letting his legs drop and flipping himself onto his stomach. He looked back over his shoulder in confusion. “Is this right?”

“Yes, darling,” Obi-Wan reassured him. “Just let me…” He grabbed Anakin’s hips and pulled up and back, until he was kneeling, his back swayed and his ass up. “Very good,” Obi-Wan muttered, pushing his legs apart. “Perfect.”

Anakin whined, tilting his hips, trying to get Obi-Wan’s cock back inside. Obi-Wan slapped his ass affectionately. “Patience, dear one.”

“Fuck me,” Anakin whined. “Fuck me now, I want you to fuck me now, please.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Obi-Wan laughed, and the sound made Anakin feel a swell of warm happiness bubble and burst inside. This was so perfect, Obi-Wan was so perfect. “I suppose I can make that happen.”

He grabbed Anakin’s ass, spreading him open and lining himself up, his cock sliding in slowly and then fast, a hard thrust pushing the entire length of his cock deep inside, fucking him again and again, stroking against a place that made Anakin's eyes roll back. He whined, letting Obi-Wan hold his hips where he wanted them, letting him fuck him how he wanted—it felt so good, Anakin couldn’t even think, his mind was soaked with pleasure. 

The sound of Obi-Wan’s hips slapping into Anakin’s ass with every thrust filled the room, mixing with the rough sound of their breathing and Anakin’s breathy moans. 

Obi-Wan smacked his ass again and spoke in that same tone of gentle command that made Anakin melt. “Touch yourself, Anakin, I want you to make yourself come. I liked watching you touch yourself, please yourself, you’re so beautiful.” Obi-Wan was fucking him hard, deliberately and deeply, his rhythm growing slightly more uneven as his voice grew rougher. “I want you to come on my cock, come while I fuck you, and I’ll come too, fill you up with my come, do you want that? Do you want me to come inside you?”

“Please,” Anakin panted, his hand jumping to his cock, and he groaned at the contact. Obi-Wan began intentionally aiming his thrusts to stroke harder against Anakin’s prostate, making him see stars. Anakin rubbed the head of his cock, jerking himself quickly in time with Obi-Wan’s thrusts. It felt like he was filling up with pressure, his stomach tight, he was so close, so close.

Anakin whined, “Obi-Wan...l” and his eyes rolled back as he came hard, his breath stuttering and body tensing as he spilled his come into his hand. Obi-Wan fucked him through his entire orgasm, and it felt like it made it stretch out forever, it felt so good.

“So good, so good for me, thank you, Anakin, so good…” Obi-Wan’s voice seemed to be losing coherence, and Anakin looked back over his shoulder, making eye contact. Obi-Wan groaned at the connection, his eyes dark as he fucked in hard a final time and came too. 

The room was very quiet, and Anakin felt like it was quieter inside his brain than it had ever been before. His orgasm had been mind-shatteringly good, and he was still stuffed full of Obi-Wan's cock. It was perfect.

Obi-Wan sighed and pulled out, using his magic to summon his shirt from the floor to his hand, cleaning them both off. Anakin slumped to his side, looking over at Obi-Wan’s flushed face, and smiled widely at the pleasure lingering in Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

Obi-Wan gave him a long look, and then bent to kiss him again, and asked, “How do you feel about rebellion, Anakin? I could sure use a pilot like you.”

Anakin shrugged loosely, kissing him back once before slumping back to the pillows and smiling up at him. “Sure. Let’s bring down an Empire. Sounds like fun.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gave him a suggestive look. “It will be.”

Anakin stood with his arms crossed, frowning down at his kitchen countertop. The metallic sheen of the new MacBook Pro was oddly beautiful, and looked almost soft. He’d checked the specs as soon as it had arrived, and it was exactly what he needed for his data science project. 

Obi-Wan had gotten him monologuing excitedly about his homework the last time that they’d talked, and Anakin supposed that he must have mentioned it. He glared at the computer one last time, and then put the box it came in into the recycling. He knew there’d be no point in trying to get Obi-Wan to return it. 

He wouldn’t.

Anakin looked around the apartment that Obi-Wan paid for, dropped the keys to the car that Obi-Wan got for him, and slipped off the sneakers that Obi-Wan bought him for his birthday. He collapsed moodily onto the plush leather couch that Obi-Wan had decided was better than the slumped IKEA one Anakin had rescued from the sidewalk of frat row.

Everything around him reminded him of Obi-Wan, and it was the most infuriating thing possible sometimes. 

Obi-Wan did something related to venture capital, but Anakin wasn’t sure what. He traveled a lot, and a lot of his work seemed philanthropic. Anakin didn’t know where the money came from exactly, but he thought that Obi-Wan might have been involved with tech in the past. In any case, he had too much money and didn’t seem to realize how much it affected the lives of the people around him.

Specifically, Anakin’s life. 

For the past two years, Obi-Wan had slowly transformed Anakin’s entire existence from being a broke college dropout working two jobs and barely renting a room into… whatever he was now. Comfortable full-time college student. He was almost done. Weeks away...

His phone lit up, and buzzed quietly. Anakin stared at it for a long moment, before reaching to answer. “Hello?”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s voice was chipper, almost too chipper. Anakin frowned again. “Are you home by any chance? May I drop by for a moment?”

There was a pause as Anakin heard something loud in the background of the call that he couldn’t quite identify. Fireworks? He stared at the phone, baffled. Obi-Wan had never come to the apartment before. “Yeah, I’m here. That’s fine?”

“Fantastic.” Obi-Wan sounded like he was walking quickly. “I’ll be there in fifteen, is that alright?”

“Yeah?” Anakin stood up quickly and walked towards his room. “Of course that’s fine.”

“Perfect, Anakin, thank you.” Obi-Wan sounded both winded and slightly relieved, and it made Anakin clench his jaw. “See you soon.”

The call disconnected and Anakin tossed the phone onto his bed. He pulled off his gym clothes and ducked into the shower, rinsing off. He knew that there was no point whatsoever in doing so, but Anakin felt compelled to do it anyway. He changed into jeans and a v-neck, brushing his hair and his teeth quickly. 

It didn’t matter what he wore, said, or did. Obi-Wan had never touched him. 

Anakin was just hopefully setting out a bottle of wine when Obi-Wan knocked. He looked nervously at the door and took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for whatever he was about to see when he opened it. Anakin never knew if Obi-Wan would be wearing a full suit, or if it would be whatever Obi-Wan’s stylist’s version of casual was that week. 

He hoped it didn’t include loafers again, the naked skin in the gap between the soft leather of his shoes and his pants was mesmerizing—Obi-Wan’s bare ankles had driven him insane, and if that wasn’t enough proof that things were… 

“Hello, there.” Obi-Wan said, his eyes quickly surveying Anakin from bare feet to damp hair. 

Anakin blinked, and frowned. It looked like it had been a suit day for Obi-Wan, but the jacket was missing, the shirt was unbuttoned an unusual amount, and the sleeves were rolled to the elbows. Was that red stain… “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan cracked his neck and looked sideways down the hall. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” Anakin stepped aside, letting him in. “What happened?”

“Bad day at work,” Obi-Wan said, tone dry. His eyes lit up when he saw the wine. “May I—”

“Obviously,” Anakin said, still examining Obi-Wan’s shirt. “What’s going on? Is that blood?”

Obi-Wan popped the cork with a fluid motion. Instead of pouring himself a glass, Obi-Wan took a long drink from the bottle. He sighed in relief and sat down on a stool at Anakin’s kitchen island. “It’s not mine.”

“That is…” Anakin groped for a word that was close to but not exactly reassuring. “Good to hear? Whose…” 

“Quinlan’s,” Obi-Wan said seriously. Anakin frowned, trying to remember if Quinlan was a bodyguard or a fellow VC. Obi-Wan took another sip of wine, shaking his wrist out absently as if flicking his sleeve back, and checked his watch. “I think he’ll be fine.”

Anakin opened and closed his mouth several times. There was blood splatter all over Obi-Wan’s shirt. He was drinking wine from the bottle. He was in Anakin’s apartment. “Why?”

“Why, what?” Obi-Wan barked a laugh, running a hand down his face and smoothing his beard. He looked so tired. “Why will he be fine? Or why was he shot?”

“Both?” Anakin’s intonation rose as he sat cautiously on the stool opposite Obi-Wan, trying to catch up with what was happening. His eyes kept flicking from Obi-Wan’s dirty shirt to his face. He saw tiny flecks of blood on the pale skin of Obi-Wan’s neck. Why?

“Some of my work followed me home, that’s all.” Obi-Wan grimaced. “First time in ten years.”

Anakin thought back on their call, and the strange sound that he’d heard. He hadn’t recognized it at the time because he hadn’t been expecting it, but of course… “Were those gunshots I heard, then?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and studied his face. “Yes.”

“What the fuck, Obi-Wan?” Anakin stood up sharply, turning and walking to the fridge. He didn’t want anything—he just had to move. “What the fuck?”

“Language, Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s crisp accent reprimanded him gently. 

Anakin felt his face grow warm as he reached into the fridge absently for a soda. He glared over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. “Nice dodge.” His voice was sardonic. “Why are you bloody?”

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully, looking down at his shirt. “A hitman got past lobby security. I think it was a team, actually, which is why it worked. Well, it didn’t work, obviously,” he gestured vaguely at himself, taking a long drink of wine. “I’m still alive.”

Anakin shook his head in disbelief. “Why does anyone want to kill you?”

Obi-Wan gave him a long, calculating look, rolling the wine bottle absently in his fingers. Anakin tried to resist the urge to straighten for inspection. When Obi-Wan spoke, his diction was careful, his tone precise. 

“First, let me clarify. I’m not in violation of any U.S. laws. Ever since I moved here, my business has been clean. I’ve never technically broken the law here. Not in this jurisdiction.” Anakin’s eyes widened slightly, and he just stared at Obi-Wan, waiting for him to explain further. Obi-Wan shrugged and took another drink. “I’ve broken the law elsewhere.”

“That is not an explanation at all, thank you.” Anakin shook his head, and walked closer again, sitting back on his stool. He stared at Obi-Wan’s handsome, familiar face, his rumpled, bloody clothes, and slightly slumped shoulders. “What the fuck, Obi-Wan?”

“Anakin, language. I am mostly retired from the Jedi,” Obi-Wan said defensively, and rolled his eyes at Anakin’s disbelieving squawk. The Jedi were the largest crime syndicate in Europe. Even Anakin knew that, and he knew nothing about Europe. Obi-Wan took a long drink, and set the bottle down hard. “I do legitimate business now. Mostly.”

Anakin’s voice was slightly strangled. “Mostly?” 

“Mostly,” Obi-Wan confirmed with a nod. “It’s hard to fully retire.” He pulled out his phone, read the messages visible on the lockscreen and shoved it back in his pocket, meeting Anakin’s eyes apologetically. “Some of the ‘mostly’ followed me home, but it’s taken care of now. Quinlan will be fine.” Obi-Wan said the last part like he was reassuring himself. “I just needed to go somewhere safe for a quick moment until everything settles down.”

“Somewhere safe…” Anakin frowned at him and looked around the apartment, noting the big windows facing out on a busy street, and the lack of any extra locks on the door. “What exactly is safe about this place?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer for a long moment, his attention stolen by his vibrating phone. Anakin crossed his arms as he waited, impatient for an answer. Obi-Wan ignored the call, and set it carefully down on the table in front of him before looking up, meeting Anakin’s eyes. “It’s not technically associated with me. It’s all in your name and paid in cash, you know that.”

“I never thought about it that way!” Anakin felt inexplicably hurt. “I didn’t realize you were just using my name… using me as a…” He looked around. “Front for your safehouse.”

“Anakin, that’s not—”

“It is!” Anakin felt unreasonably upset. He couldn’t stop looking at the blood on Obi-Wan’s shirt, couldn’t believe that the businessman who’d been inexplicably putting him through college was actually an international gangster, and couldn’t believe he’d been used but not in the way he wanted. “How many other apartments do you pay for in the city? Never occurred to me before to ask.”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s voice was blank, and it just made Anakin angrier.

He pointed a finger at Obi-Wan in accusation. “You would’ve come here even if I wasn’t here! You have keys, I know you do! So why am I even here?!” 

Anakin put both hands on the island and pushed away, standing up quickly and moving to the other side of the kitchen, He stared out the window at the street, looking for Obi-Wan’s sleek black car. He didn’t see it, but he did see two men in suits by the entrance and two more across the street. He turned back to Obi-Wan sharply. “That’s what this has all been about. It finally all makes sense!”

Obi-Wan had followed his progress with his eyes, but had otherwise not moved. “What makes sense, Anakin?” He sounded exhausted, but Anakin was too upset to care. 

Much too upset. 

He gestured at Obi-Wan’s bloody shirt, “Am I a fucking employee for the mafia, and you never told me my job? I’ve been fucking wondering!”

“Language, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said under his breath, almost reflexively. He was staring at Anakin, and his face was so blank. “You’re not an employee, and I’m not in the mafia. What are you talking about?”

Anakin shook his head, and looked back out at the bodyguards across the street. He felt so selfish and so stupid. Obi-Wan had fucking blood on him, had been shot at, and was probably more concerned about more important things. Anakin shouldn’t make this about himself. It didn’t matter that years of dreams were dying at once. Of course Obi-Wan hadn’t actually been interested, of course not…   

“What, Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharper.

Anakin’s voice came out unexpectedly sad. “So it’s never been about fucking me?”

“Why are you even asking me that?” Obi-Wan’s voice was toneless, and Anakin couldn’t read his eyes. He’d never known Obi-Wan at all, anyway, apparently, so why did this hurt so much?

Anakin swallowed and looked back outside. “I just… you did everything except that. I thought… I didn’t understand why we hadn’t… I thought maybe you were waiting for me to graduate, or something.”

“What are you talking about, Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was so hard to read, it made Anakin’s anger rise again. 

He wasn’t crazy. Obi-Wan was fucking with him. He had to be.

Anakin glared, gesturing sharply toward downtown and Obi-Wan’s office. “I mean most people don’t tip their Jimmy John's guy $200 the first time they see them! Why did you do that? What was I supposed to think? I thought you wanted—”

Obi-Wan shook his head and made a negative noise. “It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you, Anakin. I recognized your name because I knew you when you were a kid, you know that.”

Anakin scoffed loudly, “Still…” 

“You said your brakes were shot on your bike, it seemed dangerous.” Obi-Wan’s tone was so reasonable it took Anakin a second to remember how absurd the statement was.

“Exactly!” He began pacing, he couldn’t stand still. “People don’t just do that! You kept ordering when I was on shift! You kept talking to me, tipping me! When you asked for my number I thought, I don’t know…”

Obi-Wan sounded a little cornered. “I… your father was a friend of mine, Anakin, I told you that. It didn’t seem right that you had to drop out of school when your mother passed! I was only…”

“You paid my tuition!” Anakin’s voice was getting loud, and he tried to keep it down, turning his words into a pressed accusation as he came back to the island. “You bought me a car!” 

Obi-Wan took a long drink of wine, and then clarified precisely, “No, I didn’t actually buy one, I’m just helping you rent one.”

“It’s the same thing.” Anakin scowled, and sat down heavily. He reached for his soda but didn’t open it, still feeling too upset. “People don’t just do that. Everyone who knows anything about me and my life thinks we’re sleeping together, that you’re my sugar daddy or whatever.”

Obi-Wan looked like this was the last thing he needed added to his day. “You can’t be serious.”

Anakin ran his hands through his drying hair, frustrated and sorry that they were doing this now. “You honestly don’t see it, do you? You do all this stuff for me, take care of me like this—” He motioned towards the luxurious apartment. “—but never told me why. What I was supposed to think? I didn’t know you were in the mob.”

“I’m not in the mob,” Obi-Wan said reflexively. He looked Anakin in the eye, expression sincere. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think you were obliged to do anything. I thought you needed help and I could help.” He sounded so earnest. Anakin stared at the blood on his shirt, and back into his eyes, trying to see if the truth had been there the whole time.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were the same as they’d always been. 

Anakin exhaled sharply. “I’m grateful for your help, so thank you, Obi-Wan. I just didn’t know why you were helping me. I thought you picked me for—”

Obi-Wan raised his hands defensively. “I was close to your parents, Anakin, I certainly didn’t expect anything. You don’t have to—” He sounded slightly horrified at the idea. It made Anakin’s chest hurt. Obi-Wan had helped him so much, given him so much. Not for the reason he’d thought, apparently. Obi-Wan didn’t want him.

“Fine,” Anakin said, abruptly dropping it. “How long do you need to hide out here?” Obi-Wan looked at him blankly, so Anakin clarified, gesturing vaguely at his chest, “You can take a shower to get the blood off, if you’re sticking around. Do you want a different shirt?”

Obi-Wan still looked wrongfooted by the swift change in topic. He looked down at himself again, and then surveyed Anakin’s face. “Thank you, yes.”

“Great,” Anakin said, numbly. “Go take a shower, I’ll bring you clothes.” He got up and made for his bedroom, ready to search through a closet full of clothes Obi-Wan had bought for him to see if there was something in Obi-Wan’s size. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t that much smaller, so they could probably share clothes, but he was still slightly shorter, and it made Anakin want Obi-Wan to hug him to see how he would fit against Obi-Wan’s chest, but Obi-Wan didn’t want him to touch him, so it didn’t matter that he was shorter, and they could share shirts… 

“Why are you upset?” Obi-Wan asked quietly from behind him, making Anakin jump and turn his head. Obi-Wan had followed him to the door of his bedroom, and was looking down, unbuttoning his bloody shirt with an expression of distaste. Anakin looked away quickly as the shirt opened up. 

“I’m not upset,” he lied, digging through shirts. “Do you just need a shirt, or do you have blood on your pants too?”

Obi-Wan sounded suspicious. “Both, thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me,” Anakin said, tossing Obi-Wan a soft black t-shirt and some sweatpants. He tried to keep all of the emotion out of his voice, and failed. “It’s your stuff.” 

Obi-Wan caught the clothes without responding, his eyes on Anakin’s face. 

Anakin felt the need to get away, but Obi-Wan was blocking the door, trapping him in. Anakin squared his shoulders, and took a deep calming breath. “You should get clean. I am going to work on my project now.” 

“Why are you still so upset?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice tight. “You’re not under obligation to do anything. I would have thought that would be a relief.”

Anakin stared at him blankly for a long moment, before shaking his head, speaking hesitantly. “Obi-Wan, I… I’m here because I wouldn’t mind.”

Obi-Wan went still, his voice calm. “What?”

“I want to!” Anakin burst out, so tired of pretending he didn’t. He threw his hands up in frustration, moving into Obi-Wan’s personal space. Obi-Wan looked surprised, and Anakin clarified more quietly, “I want to very badly.”

Obi-Wan’s face went blank again, but Anakin thought the mask was cracking slightly in the eyes. He looked worried. “You... you can’t be serious, Anakin. I’m so much older than you! I thought you’d think of me like... like an uncle!”

“No, I didn’t. I don’t.” Anakin shook his head emphatically. He almost felt sick. “Do you think of me like a… like a nephew?” That was somehow almost worse. If he was family, then Obi-Wan really had never, and would never think of him like… 

“Anakin… yes, I did. I tried to.” Obi-Wan said, running a hand over his beard and hiding his reaction. He sounded so tired, and looked so overwhelmed. 

Anakin felt awful, again, for being so selfish. His feelings were not important enough to burden Obi-Wan with on a day when he’d been nearly shot. He needed to take care of Obi-Wan, not add to his problems. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, it’s fine. Go take a shower, don’t worry about it.” Obi-Wan didn’t respond immediately, and Anakin stared hard at the door. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Obi-Wan said slowly, absently playing with the clothes in his hands. He hadn’t moved, still blocking the exit. “Anakin, I’m sorry that I’ve caused you distress. I never stopped to think all this through, and I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Anakin’s voice was flat, his eyes still on the door. “I misunderstood. You weren’t keeping me here for that. You don’t want me like that. I’m going to go work on my stuff, it’s fine.” He swallowed. It wasn’t fine.

Obi-Wan made a negative sound, and it made Anakin look at his face. Obi-Wan made eye contact so earnest that Anakin had to look away again. “I’m not interested in obligatory sex, Anakin. You don’t owe me anything. That’s not why I was keeping you here. I didn’t do any of this to try to have sex with you.”

Anakin’s voice came out sad. “But you could have. I thought you were going to.” He wanted to go. This all hurt too badly. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “What?”

“Obi-Wan, I liked it so much.” Anakin felt his face grow warm, and took a shaky breath. “I liked when you remembered me, planned for me, bought me things. It made me feel… I thought maybe you were just waiting until after I’d graduated, and I’d earned it or… I thought you were just waiting and… I liked it.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, and Anakin could see the dark red stain of the wine on his lips. His mouth would probably taste like wine too, but Anakin would never know for sure.

He felt strangely reckless, now that the truth was out—now that he knew his feelings didn’t matter. His heart was pounding, and he felt a sort of rushing wild emptiness of disappointment. Obi-Wan’s eyes were on his face, but Anakin couldn’t read him. 

He never could. 

Anakin took a half-step forward, further into Obi-Wan’s personal space, and felt an odd surge of pleasure when Obi-Wan tilted his head back slightly to look up at him. 

“I like when you pay attention to me, Obi-Wan. I like when you take care of me. I’ve always liked it so much. You make me so happy, and I’ve always wanted to take care of you too, but you never let me. I want to make you happy, Obi-Wan. I want to touch you, kiss you, suck your cock—” 

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan tried to interrupt, but Anakin kept talking, volume increasing. 

“—but you’ve never touched me, not once, not ever! I was waiting for you! I thought you wanted to wait, and I liked making you happy, even if it drove me insane! I was wrong, I know that now. I didn’t mean to bother you, I’m sorry…” His words trailed off, unable to continue. Obi-Wan looked so annoyed at him, cheeks flushed with wine and frustration and Anakin’s stomach sank. 

Why did he have to say all that? Why couldn’t he let it go?

Obi-Wan’s tone was low, and forbidding. “Anakin…” 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, voice thick. He tried to move past Obi-Wan, and leave the room. He just needed to be alone for a minute, and then he’d be fine. He just needed to go… 

“Stop.” Obi-Wan commanded quietly, but Anakin didn’t stop. Obi-Wan’s hand shot out, grabbing Anakin’s bare arm with a strong grip and pulling him back. 

Anakin froze, staring at his hand, his mind silent except for the sensation of pressure, the feeling of being held. Obi-Wan was touching him. He swallowed and looked up, confused. “What, Obi-Wan? It’s fine. You can forget—”

“What do you mean, you were waiting?” Obi-Wan cut him off, and his tone of command had not changed. Anakin stared at him blankly, unable to find an easy answer. Obi-Wan’s hand tightened slightly and then released. “What were you waiting for?”

“What?” Anakin said weakly, still feeling Obi-Wan’s handprint on his skin like a brand. His mouth didn’t feel like it was working correctly. He licked his lips and tried again. “I was waiting for you.”

“How long have you been waiting?” Obi-Wan’s voice was oddly intent, his eyes dark. He looked so irritated.

“Since… since the beginning?” Anakin cringed. “I haven’t been with anyone since you fixed my bike.”

“That’s more than a year, though,” Obi-Wan sounded incredulous, his eyes searching Anakin’s expression. “Why would you wait that long?”

Anakin felt cornered. “Because I’m an idiot, I guess. Excuse me, can I please—”

“You’re not an idiot, Anakin.” Obi-Wan spoke over him again. His hand came back up to Anakin’s arm, holding him in place. Anakin huffed a laugh because he absolutely was an idiot.

Obi-Wan’s thumb reassuringly stroked Anakin’s bicep. Anakin’s eyes widened, looking down at the soft touch and then up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s voice still sounded tight, and Anakin didn’t understand why. “I like that you did that.”

“What?” Anakin said, mind blank. His eyes had returned to where Obi-Wan was touching him, and it felt like every nerve was on fire. 

“I like that you waited,” Obi-Wan repeated himself, his voice lower. “I didn’t know you were waiting, and I didn't do any of this so that you would. It’s very important to me that you know that.”

“Sure,” Anakin said, nodding in agreement. He wanted to leave, but he needed Obi-Wan to keep touching him. He didn’t move, could barely breathe. “I know that, Obi-Wan. I get it.”

“You don’t,” Obi-Wan said quietly. He raised his other hand to Anakin’s face, cupping his jaw. Anakin froze, and he felt like he was melting. He barely resisted pressing his cheek into Obi-Wan’s palm. Obi-Wan’s thumb stroked him gently and Anakin shuddered. “If I were still a Jedi… Anakin, do you know how the Jedi work?” 

Anakin shook his head slightly, and Obi-Wan’s held his head tighter, keeping him still. “If I were still a Jedi, I would have very much liked to train you. Your father was more than my friend, Anakin. He was my Mentor. I owe him a debt I can never repay. I was trying to treat you like a nephew, keep you safe, help you out because—in another life, Anakin, I would have trained you, kept you by my side.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, blankly.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “But, Anakin… I was never a very good Jedi.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Anakin mumbled, and Obi-Wan’s thumb stroked his cheek again, and Anakin’s eyes slid closed. “You were probably the best.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. “I…” He trailed off, the hand on Anakin’s bicep sliding up and around his shoulder, moving slowly across his collarbone. He stroked up Anakin’s neck, thumb pressed down as if to feel Anakin’s racing pulse. “I would definitely have been a bad Mentor.

“What do you mean?” Anakin whispered. Just touching had made all the blood rush away from his head, he was so aroused already, he couldn’t think, he felt oddly lightheaded. He was almost trembling, and Obi-Wan’s hands felt like the only thing keeping him upright.

“Mentors don’t do this,” Obi-Wan matched his whisper, and kissed him. 

Anakin kissed him back, numb with disbelief at first, and then in a rush of excitement and arousal. Finally. He swayed closer and one of Obi-Wan’s hands dropped and slid around his waist, holding him close, and holding him up. Anakin moaned, and Obi-Wan held him tighter, kissing him deeper. 

Time seemed to stop and extend—Obi-Wan smelled so good, and he was so close, his beard was rough but soft, his lips were so soft, pressed against his, moving so gently. Obi-Wan licked the seam of Anakin’s lips, and Anakin opened his mouth, letting him in, moaning loudly when their tongues touched. Obi-Wan tasted like wine, he’d known he would. Obi-Wan had kissed him, was kissing him, wanted to kiss him.

Anakin broke the kiss with a gasp. “Really?”

Obi-Wan used his hold on Anakin’s head to pull him back, kissing him again and then pulling away. “Yes.” 

“You want me?” Anakin asked, following clumsily as Obi-Wan guided them both towards the bathroom.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his eyebrow rising. He placed Anakin against a wall, and began undressing. 

“You actually want me now?” Anakin asked again, overwhelmed. Obi-Wan’s bloody shirt and undershirt were coming off, revealing the expanse of pale skin that stretched over Obi-Wan’s surprisingly strong chest.

Obi-Wan dropped his dirty clothes and gave Anakin an exasperated look. “I’m not going to repeat myself infinitely, Anakin.” His eyes flicked up and down Anakin’s body, and he grimaced apologetically. “Are you going to join me? I got blood on you.”

Anakin looked down at himself and blinked in surprise. He jerkily pulled his shirt off over his head. “I just… I didn't think it'd happen.” He threw his shirt at the laundry basket, and missed. He made a face, and looked back at Obi-Wan. “I never knew how to… seduce you, or whatever.”

“Well, you did a good job anyway.” Obi-Wan laughed, taking off his watch. Anakin's eyes landed on his wrists and hands, and he felt caught in place. Obi-Wan tossed the watch casually towards the sink, much too casually for something that valuable. His eyes were sliding down Anakin’s bare chest, and Anakin felt so warm, he felt like he was burning up.  

“I did?” Anakin's eyes followed Obi-Wan's hands down to his belt.

“Yes, Anakin.” Obi-Wan paused while unbuckling his belt, and then laughed again. Anakin wondered what memory had just come to his mind. “I didn’t mean to like it, you know. Giving you things. It’d never been a thing for me before.”

“Really?” Anakin’s eyes widened as Obi-Wan pulled his own pants down, and he could see finally Obi-Wan’s cock. He was getting hard. Anakin’s cock throbbed, and he swallowed, looking back up. 

“You turn a very specific shade of pink when you’re flustered, Anakin, and an even darker shade when you’re very grateful. Did you know that?” Obi-Wan gestured at Anakin’s face in the mirror, and Anakin turned to face it, noting his flush. 

Obi-Wan walked closer, and Anakin felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I noticed your blush before I even knew your name. You were so sorry you were late, you’d almost gotten in a wreck, your bike was broken. You were so pink.” Obi-Wan’s hands had found the fastening of Anakin’s jeans, and Anakin took a shaky breath. 

Obi-Wan smiled widely at him, his expression was fond, and his eyes dark. “The way you reacted, the color you turned, when I used the change in my pocket to help you with your bike, Anakin—the way you said thank you, thank you so much,” Obi-Wan mimicked Anakin’s voice and then shook his head. “It made me feel… I liked it.”

Anakin exhaled hard. He hadn’t been crazy. “You liked it?” 

“Yes, I liked it.” Obi-Wan said, as if the word liked was insufficient. He kissed Anakin, and then pulled away, moving to the shower and turning on the water. He looked back, and his lips twitched when he saw that Anakin still hadn’t moved. “I tried to ignore it, after I knew who you were. I tried to think of you like… like a nephew. Someone off limits.” 

Anakin shook his head, and pulled his pants down. “I’m not off limits. I’ve never been off limits, Obi-Wan.”

“I know that now,” Obi-Wan said, exasperated. His eyes were fixed on Anakin’s hard cock, and his voice oddly strangled. “I really didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Anakin resisted the urge to touch himself, and moved closer. “I’ve done everything I could think of to get you to touch me. How could you possibly miss that?”

“Many possible reasons.” Obi-Wan said, defensive. He tested the water and stepped inside the large, tiled shower. 

Anakin’s eyebrows raised incredulously, following Obi-Wan in. He couldn’t look away from the constellations of freckles on the pale skin of Obi-Wan’s naked shoulders. Obi-Wan turned away, and was quiet for a moment as he looked for a washcloth. He sounded strangely insecure. “You could have anyone, I'm older than you, and—”

“Here,” Anakin said as he moved forward, taking the cloth from Obi-Wan’s hand and dispensing some of his body wash onto it. He met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Can I?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said crisply, letting his hands drop. 

“Thank you,” Anakin said quietly, and Obi-Wan smiled at him. Anakin began to scrub the flecks of blood off Obi-Wan’s chest. He couldn’t believe Obi-Wan had almost died. He couldn’t believe he was touching him. He felt a swell of possessive anxiety. “Are you…” He swallowed, looking at Obi-Wan’s face. “Are you going to be safe? Are they going to try again?”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Obi-Wan murmured reassuringly, letting Anakin slide the washcloth up his neck. 

Anakin's eyes narrowed, “You better. I don’t want anyone else, Obi-Wan. Why do you think I was waiting?" He focused for a long moment on gently checking Obi-Wan’s neck and face for blood, and then pulled him into the water to rinse off. “You kept spending your time with me, even though we didn’t have sex. You gave me so many presents, and I thought it was just your thing.”

“I guess you were right,” Obi-Wan said, eyes vulnerable. “I’d give you things as an excuse to see you. I liked it when you said thank you.”

“I loved it, Obi-Wan.” Anakin kissed him gently, his heart pounding. He looked at Obi-Wan for a long moment, trying to decide if he had permission to do what he’d always wanted to do. Whatever he was looking for, whatever nameless emotion—he finally found it in Obi-Wan’s eyes. 

He sank to his knees, and looked up at Obi-Wan hopefully, his hands coming up to lightly brush Obi-Wan’s wet thighs. His mouth was so close to Obi-Wan’s hard cock. “Please, Obi-Wan, can I?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice low. He reached out and stroked Anakin’s head, pushing his wet curls off his forehead. “Suck my cock, Anakin.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said earnestly, and grinned when he heard Obi-Wan’s exhale. “Thank you so much.” 

His attention focused entirely on sliding his hands up Obi-Wan’s thighs, the feeling of the soft wet skin, the light hair under his fingers. Obi-Wan shifted slightly under his touch, and Anakin looked up. Obi-Wan was looking at his mouth intently, and Anakin smiled. 

He relaxed his jaw and opened his mouth, letting Obi-Wan see his tongue. Obi-Wan stroked his hair, and Anakin slid his hands all the way up Obi-Wan’s thighs, gently wrapping a hand around the length of Obi-Wan cock and cupping his balls. He made eye contact, and murmured, “Thank you so much, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan groaned and Anakin smirked. He began to move his hand on Obi-Wan’s cock, jerking him gently, and then wrapped his lips around the head, licking Obi-Wan’s precome. Anakin moaned, his eyes sliding closed at the taste. Finally. He pulled his head back, stroking Obi-Wan’s cock with his hand as he sucked more spit into his mouth. Obi-Wan petted his hair, and Anakin leaned into his touch. 

He opened his mouth again, and Obi-Wan groaned. Anakin’s eyes shot to his face, and he realized that Obi-Wan was staring at the saliva on his tongue. He leaned forward and licked the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, and then let the tip push slowly through his lips, taking the cock deep in his mouth. 

Obi-Wan’s hand came to his hair again, grabbing the curls. Anakin began moving his head, his lips pressing tightly, sucking gently as he slid Obi-Wan’s cock along his tongue. Obi-Wan’s grip tugged on Anakin’s hair and the sharp feeling made him moan around Obi-Wan’s cock.

Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward, and his cock hit the back of Anakin’s throat, making him gag slightly. “Sorry!” Obi-Wan apologized as Anakin pulled back, catching his breath. “Your mouth feels so good, Anakin. It feels even better than I’d… I’d thought about this so much.”

“You did?” Anakin asked, sounding more vulnerable than he had intended, his thumb stroking Obi-Wan’s balls gently. 

Obi-Wan’s grip on his hair tightened slightly and released. “Of course I did, Anakin.”

“You’re good at acting, then.” Anakin grumbled. “You never showed it, not ever.” He sucked Obi-Wan’s cock back into his mouth, taking it all the way, as far as he could. 

Obi-Wan groaned as the head of his cock hit the back of Anakin’s throat and then slid further down. Obi-Wan’s hips moved again, and Anakin relaxed, letting it happen. 

“Always have been a good liar,” Obi-Wan said, his breathing hard. He groaned when Anakin hummed in agreement, and he instivctively used his hold on Anakin's hair to fuck a little further into his throat. Anakin met his eyes, and Obi-Wan's hips jerked one more time. Obi-Wan whispered shakily, his eyes full of intent. “You take it so well.”

He pulled Anakin off his cock, and Anakin gasped for a moment. He looked up, wanting permission to get back so sucking Obi-Wan's cock. Obi-Wan shook his slightly, and quietly ordered him, “Stand up.”

Anakin stood quickly, and Obi-Wan smiled at him. “Turn around.”

“Thank you,” Anakin murmured, turning quickly to face the wall. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Obi-Wan laughed, and Anakin jumped when he felt Obi-Wan’s fingers trailing down his spine.

The spray of water was hot, and Anakin stepped forward slightly to get clear. He looked over his shoulder. “But I’m so grateful, Obi-Wan.” His eyes slid closed as Obi-Wan’s fingers slid lower. “I wanted this so bad, I wanted you to…” He trailed off when Obi-Wan’s fingers slid over the sensitive skin of his ass, and turned his head back to the wall, tilting his hips slightly to make it easier for Obi-Wan to touch him. 

Obi-Wan kicked his legs farther apart and stepped closer, his voice coming from right behind Anakin’s ear. It sounded husky, and low. “Do you want me to give it to you?”

“Please, Obi-Wan, I want it. I want it so bad.” Anakin whined, pushing back against Obi-Wan’s hand. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers began to press inside him, and Anakin moaned. Obi-Wan kissed the sensitive skin under Anakin’s ear, and slid his fingers in farther. “Do you have lube anywhere convenient, Anakin?”

Anakin had trouble thinking with Obi-Wan’s fingers in his ass. He pointed vaguely towards the bottles in the corner. “I have lube everywhere in the apartment, Obi-Wan. Anywhere it might happen, I wanted to be prepared.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and fucked him harder with his fingers, making Anakin whine. He asked, “Where else?”

“What?” Anakin breathed, the feeling of taking Obi-Wan’s fingers was already overwhelming. It felt so good. He couldn’t believe it was finally happening. 

“Where else do you have lube, Anakin.” Obi-Wan repeated himself, voice full of a mix of humor and something darker. Anakin heard him sorting through bottles, but his fingers were still moving in his ass—it was so hard to think. Obi-Wan asked again, more commanding, fingers pushing deep inside. “Where?”

Anakin jolted and moaned as Obi-Wan's fingers found his prostate, and he answered quickly. “Here, the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, the balcony, the…” Anakin trailed off when Obi-Wan bit the place where his neck joined his shoulder. 

Obi-Wan bit harder and then let go, sliding his fingers out too. Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan kissed the spot he’d bitten. "You really did want it, then.”

Anakin huffed an incredulous laugh. “Yes, I’ve wanted it so much, for so long, Obi-Wan, will you give it to me, please—”

“Yes, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, voice low and intent. Anakin heard the top of the lube pop open. “Anything you want.”

“Thank you,” Anakin turned his head, trying to make eye contact. He saw Obi-Wan rubbing lube on his cock, and whined. “Thank you so much.”

Obi-Wan met his eyes. Anakin felt his heart stutter for a moment, he wanted to gasp, he wanted to cry. He could see so much emotion, so much Obi-Wan had never let him see before. Obi-Wan really did want him too.  

Obi-Wan grabbed his hips and pulled them back. Anakin’s back swayed as he spread his legs wider, trying to help line himself up correctly. Obi-Wan squeezed his hips tighter, and then pressed the tip of his cock against Anakin’s entrance. 

Anakin felt like he was trembling, he was panting, the world had narrowed to that small point of contact—the head of Obi-Wan’s thick cock was pressing inside him so slowly. He turned his head back to the wall, whining quietly. 

Obi-Wan abruptly thrust forward, and his cock slid almost all the way inside. Anakin gasped, and Obi-Wan began to gently fuck him, pressing his cock farther and farther inside Anakin’s tight body. Anakin began to murmur a chant of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” and the thrusts sped up.

“Take it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said roughly, and his cock slid in harder. Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan's hands tightened on his hips, fucking him harder. “Take my cock, you want it, I’ll give it to you, anything, sweetheart.”

Anakin whined again at the combination of Obi-Wan fucking him hard and calling him pet names. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the cool wall of the shower. “Please, please, fuck me harder.” 

“With pleasure,” Obi-Wan said, his voice low and filled with humor. He actually sounded happy. Anakin was making him happy, it was finally happening. One of Obi-Wan’s arms slid around Anakin’s chest, pulling him closer until his back was held tightly against Obi-Wan’s chest. They fit together so well. Obi-Wan held his hip tightly, his cock stroking in so deeply, over and over, pressing and sliding against a place inside that made Anakin moan. It felt so good. 

“You feel so good, darling, so good.” Obi-Wan unknowingly echoed Anakin’s thoughts. “Your ass is perfect—so warm, so tight around my cock, Anakin. I knew you would, but I’d never force you, never,” Obi-Wan said, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts of his cock. Anakin went limp, leaning forward and letting Obi-Wan press him into the wall, fucking him hard. 

Anakin tried to answer, tried to pull words out from somewhere, his attention consumed by the way Obi-Wan’s thick cock was pounding into his ass. “I wanted it so bad, I always have, thank you.” 

Obi-Wan’s hand slid around his hip and began jerking Anakin’s cock as he fucked him, moving in time with his thrusts. Anakin moaned loudly, going even more limp. Obi-Wan held him tightly, and he felt, finally, that Obi-Wan had really chosen him, taken him, had him. He was so close, so close to coming, he was going to come…

Obi-Wan’s mouth moved close to his ear, commanding roughly, “Come, Anakin,” as he fucked him hard, his hand moving quickly on Anakin’s cock. 

“Thank you,” Anakin moaned and came hard. His eyes rolled back as an enormous pressure rolled away, and it felt electric, sparkling, incredible. He spilled his come into Obi-Wan’s hand, feeling every deliberate, final thrust of Obi-Wan’s cock.

Obi-Wan groaned loudly, and came too, his body curling around Anakin’s as he filled his ass with come. They stayed together for a moment, Obi-Wan covering Anakin with his body, pressing him into the wall, and breathing hard. The sound of the water was so loud in Anakin’s ears, and his heart was pounding, and he felt almost high. Obi-Wan’s cock was inside him, and it was perfect, so perfect.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan eventually murmured, kissing him on the neck and pulling out. Anakin looked back and made eye contact as Obi-Wan stepped back into the stream of water, cleaning himself off.

Anakin didn’t have words to say what he wanted to say, he didn’t have words at all. He looked deep into Obi-Wan’s eyes, trying to tell him how much that had meant to him, how much it mattered. 

Obi-Wan’s face was flushed, his eyes still dark. He examined Anakin’s expression, and nodded slightly. “It’ll be alright, Anakin.”

“What will?” Anakin asked quietly, pushing away from the wall and rebalancing on his feet. He turned around, and repeated himself. "What will, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan shrugged, and pulled him closer, into the water, his hand moving to begin cleaning him too. “Everything, Anakin. Everything will be alright. I will make it alright.”

“You promise?” Anakin’s voice was small. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan kissed him gently. “I promise.”

Anakin scraped the last of the oil from his leg and dropped his hooked strigil to the ground, sighing in satisfaction. He was finally clean again. It had been a long, hard day of fighting and he’d been so coated in sweat, dust, and blood that scraping it off had been incredibly satisfying—his newly exfoliated skin seemed to glow in the dim lamplight in his tent. 

He sighed deeply, cracking his neck. He was so exhausted, he could probably fall asleep sitting up. Today had been his first time in the phalanx—his first time deployed on the field as a hoplite. He was almost nineteen, had been training for this day his entire life, and he had almost died.

If Obi-Wan hadn’t been there, he almost certainly would be dead.

He glared across his tent at his dirty bronze cuirass. The weight of the shaped bronze chest and back plates, combined with the bronze of his helmet with its cheek plates, and the bronze of his shin greaves, was overwhelming. His armor together weighed almost seventy pounds, even without his weapons and his shield.

It was all so much more tiring than he ever could have imagined; the sheer heaviness of it all had very nearly killed him. He’d been knocked down in the battle and hadn’t been able to rise easily. His chest ached in sympathy with his memory of the blow that had knocked him to the ground, and driven the air from his lungs. 

Despite all his training, he had still been too weak to fight when it really mattered. He should have worked harder, he shouldn’t have skipped training, he should have been ready… 

Anakin looked down at his bruised, naked body and wished for a moment that he had the same linothorax chest armor of the lower-class hoplites instead of his expensive, heavy bronze. The linothorax was made of linen fabric glued together, and was much lighter and much more maneuverable as a result. But no, Anakin was an Alcmaeonidae, noblest of the noble, chosen and favored by Zeus—of course the nephew of Pericles must have bronze.

His old tutor Obi-Wan wore linothorax, and he had been easily able to cut down the Corinthian who’d pinned Anakin. He was so strong, still so young, only in his mid-thirties but so clever—so skilled with both his spear and his sword. He wielded his shield like he was born carrying it. Anakin had watched him with breathless awe as he’d saved his life.

It had been incredibly surreal to watch the same kind man who’d taught him rhetoric, politics, and wrestling, cut down enemies, over and over, all to save Anakin’s life. Obi-Wan hadn’t left his side once on the battlefield; it had been so reassuring. He’d protected his body when he’d fallen, and even killed the man who had taken his shield and got it back, preserving Anakin’s honor. 

He’d then pulled Anakin to safety, leaving him with the medics before returning to the fight alone, unable to resist a desperate call for reinforcement of the right flank. He’d squeezed Anakin’s shoulder, and told him to stay put, and that he would be back.

Anakin hadn’t seen him since, but he knew through second-hand reports that he’d survived. He’d expected to see him at dinner, but Obi-Wan hadn’t been there. It was just so frustrating—they were messmates. That meant that he should have been at dinner. Where had he been?

Anakin had retreated quickly to his private tent, desperate to get clean. Like everyone else, he’d coated himself in oil early in the day to protect his skin from the sun and the dirt, and by the evening he just felt so unbelievably filthy. His injuries had ended up being relatively mild, but his head wound had bled quite a lot, and his chest was aching. 

Now he sat, naked and clean on his bedroll, staring blankly into space. He was beyond tired, in a hazy, unreal world of the quiet after chaos. The fresh evening air was crisp, and blissfully dust and sand free. He hated sand, the grittiness of it, it was the worst to—

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice outside the tent flap made him jump. “May I come in?”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin replied quickly, pulling a fur over his lap. While they saw each other nude frequently at the wrestling palaistra, this felt different. This is where he slept. “Come in!”

Obi-Wan slipped inside the tent, looking tired and worried. He held his bronze helmet tucked under one arm, still wearing the rest of his armor. His metal belt drew attention to his trim waist, the short, woolen chiton underneath his linothorax was stained with dirt and Anakin’s blood. His shoulders looked impossibly broad, his bare arms and thighs impossibly strong. “Are you alright?”

Anakin swallowed and looked away with a shrug. “Yes, of course.” 

“Not of course, Anakin.” Obi-Wan looked him over and made a low noise full of disapproval at the dark, spreading bruise on Anakin’s chest, and all the various other scrapes and welts from the day’s combat. “You very nearly died.”

“I know,” Anakin said simply. “You saved my life. Thank you, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, a lock of his copper hair falling with uncharacteristic messiness across his dirty forehead, and waved a hand like his extraordinary efforts had been nothing at all. His eyes continued to scan down the exposed bare skin of Anakin’s chest, probably looking for further injuries.

Anakin scowled, feeling himself flush under the observation, and babbled defensively, “I tried to tell Archestratus to give my prize of valor to you instead, but he told me you told him that I should have it! Why did you do that? I don’t deserve it. I don’t think I even killed anyone.”

Obi-Wan sighed, his eyes finally leaving Anakin’s skin. He ran a hand through his beard and scratched at the dust, his voice almost too gentle. “You survived, Anakin, and when the phalanx broke ranks on the right, you held position. You protected the men retreating with great courage, and tried to stand back up when you were knocked down.” He met Anakin’s eyes, his expression sincere. “I am so proud of you.”

Anakin felt his mouth go dry, and his cheeks grow hotter and hotter. The longer they held eye contact, the harder it was to breathe. “You are?”

“I am, yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed, giving him a rare, true smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling in satisfaction.

Anakin felt as though he were glowing, but then a sharp twist of guilt made him cringe. He gestured helplessly toward his dusty shield, dropped near his cuirass, helmet, and greaves. “You had to save me and my hoplon though, Obi-Wan. I would have died in disgrace without you.” 

“There is no point dwelling on counterfactuals.” Obi-Wan sounded unbothered. “I was there. I will not always be there, but I am reasonably certain that next time, you won’t need me.”

Anakin didn’t feel like he deserved Obi-Wan’s confidence, but was gratified by it nonetheless. “Thank you, erastēs, I—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut him off sternly. “We talked about this. Don’t call me—”

Anakin exhaled hard in frustration and stood up, the fur falling from his lap so he was standing defiantly naked before Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s eyes skimmed down his bare chest to his cock for a moment before snapping back up with a frown. 

Anakin glowered back, putting his hands on his hips. “You are my erastēs! Stop denying it!”

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, taking a step back. “I most certainly am not. I’ve known you since you were a small boy. You’re too young for me to think of in that way.” He repeated himself, sounding a little more helpless at Anakin’s offended scoff. “You’re too young. We talked about this.”

Anakin growled, indignant, pointing his finger first at Obi-Wan’s chest and then vaguely in the direction of where they’d fought earlier that day. “I almost died beside you on the field of battle, Obi-Wan—as a fellow soldier in the phalanx—and yet I’m still not a man to you? What else do I have to do to make you see that I’m grown?”

“You…” Obi-Wan looked slightly cornered, transferring his helmet from under one arm to the other. “Yes, I suppose I know you are a man now.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said crisply, running a hand through his curls and breaking them up from where the sweat had dried them against his skin. He looked Obi-Wan up and down, transfixed by his dirty armor, and how the low light of the lamp flickered off his belt and his sweaty, filthy skin. Anakin felt a flash of heat, his cock twitching. 

“Please, Obi-Wan, may I please touch you?” His voice came out unexpectedly breathy, and he blushed. He’d been wanting to for so long, but Obi-Wan always put him off. Anakin’s friends all had their own erastēs, and other mentors had signaled interest in Anakin at symposia and at the palaistra, but Anakin only wanted Obi-Wan. He wanted Obi-Wan to want him too. 

“No, Anakin.” Obi-Wan raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “I will teach and protect you regardless of that. You don’t owe me anything; you don’t have to do any of that.”

Anakin huffed, and took a step closer, hyper-aware of how his hardening cock swung between his legs. He ached to touch it, he needed to, but he would very much prefer it if Obi-Wan would instead. “I know I don’t have to! I want to. I need to. I need you to fuck me, Obi-Wan, please.”

Obi-Wan grimaced and looked away. “You’re a citizen, Anakin, it’s not appropriate for—”

“Ugh!” Anakin scoffed loudly, taking another step closer, his volume dropping. “You don’t have to penetrate me with your cock then, Obi-Wan, just fucking touch me. Let me touch you. You do everything else an erastēs does but that, and it’s driving me mad!” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan began, stretching out the syllables until an entire lecture was compressed into a single word.

“No!” Anakin gave him a wide-eyed, begging look. “Listen, you can fuck between my thighs instead, you know you can. Glaucon said his—”

“I don’t care what Glaucon said or what his erastēs did. It’s not right for me to…”

“To what?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, stepping away. “I don’t need to… use… your body for my own… gratification, Anakin. You don’t have to suffer through that.”

“Suffer through?” Anakin laughed incredulously, his cock throbbing at the way Obi-Wan described using his body to get off. “It would be the opposite of suffering. I promise it would make me come if you used me like that. Do you want to watch me come, erastēs?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan began, tone forbidding, a blush growing beneath his beard. He shifted the helmet again, almost anxiously. “I just came to check on you and you seem… fine… so, I should… leave now.” He finished speaking and did not leave.

Anakin took that as a good sign, and pressed him, advancing into his space, his tone intent. “You saved my life, Obi-Wan, you always protect me and teach me, and help me so much, you deserve to feel good. I can make you feel so good. Touch me, and feel good, erastēs, please!”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan said, half a warning and half a plea, his face was almost crimson. “Stop it.” 

Anakin made a negative sound, and palmed his own thickening cock. Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked the motion, and Anakin swallowed a groan, his voice rough. “By Hercules, I’d suck your cock so good if you’d let me, Obi-Wan. Do you want to fuck my mouth, erastēs? I want you to. I’ve never done it before, but it can’t be that hard for you to put your cock down my throat.”

“No, paidika, that is certainly not appropriate—”

“Fine!” Anakin huffed, his cock throbbing at Obi-Wan calling him paidika, his dear student, tacitly conceding that he was his erastēs. 

Finally.

Anakin took a step even closer, close enough to smell Obi-Wan’s sweat—close enough to see his blown pupils in the low light. “Don’t you want to sink your cock between my legs, and fuck me there? It’s so hot and tight between my thighs, I promise, Obi-Wan, I could make it so slick with oil, hot and slick.”

Obi-Wan seemed frozen, and his face almost pained. Anakin took his silence as encouragement and continued his approach, his voice lowering into a murmur as he took the final step, his cock almost brushing against Obi-Wan’s armor. “You can come on my thighs, please, erastēs. Don’t you want to come on me? Mark me, please, I’m yours, Obi-Wan—” 

Obi-Wan interrupted him with a sharp exhale, and Anakin could feel his breath on his mouth, they were so close. He felt a spike of victory, his cock throbbing as Obi-Wan remained silent and still for a long, lingering moment. Anakin swiftly closed the distance, brushing his lips against Obi-Wan’s own before pulling his head back to check his reaction. 

Obi-Wan blinked twice at him, and lifted a hand almost reflexively to grip the back of Anakin’s neck, catching and stopping his retreat. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long, charged moment—time seemed to have stopped, the tent and camp fading away, everything muted except for the shaky sound of their combined breathing, the black of Obi-Wan’s blown pupils, the flushed pink of his cheeks.

Then, all at once, Obi-Wan made a noise of frustration and tugged Anakin’s head back, pulling his lips back to his own, and kissed him hard. Anakin moaned loudly, his eyes fluttering closed, and fell into the warm, soft press of Obi-Wan’s mouth. He opened up for Obi-Wan’s tongue, eager for him to deepen the kiss. 

Obi-Wan licked inside his open mouth and groaned, his tongue touching Anakin’s and causing a spike of arousal to shoot straight to his cock, strong enough to almost make him feel lightheaded. He swayed closer into the kiss, and Obi-Wan dropped his helmet to the ground with a thud, wrapping his other arm around Anakin’s back, holding him close and keeping him up. 

Anakin whined as his cock was crushed against Obi-Wan’s armor. He rocked his hips instinctively seeking more friction, and Obi-Wan hummed encouragingly, holding him close. He slid his hand up from Anakin’s neck and threaded his fingers into his curls, gripping them tight and tipping his head to the side. He kissed him as though possessing him, his tongue thrusting deep into Anakin’s mouth. 

After a perfect, infinite moment, Obi-Wan pulled his head back, and took a deep, shaky breath. He studied Anakin’s face and then shook his head fondly, tugging on Anakin’s curls, his voice husky and low. “You impossible boy, you don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” Anakin said fervently, kissing him again and then rubbing his cheek on Obi-Wan’s beard, whining at the rough texture on his skin. “Can I touch you?”

“I shouldn’t let you,” Obi-Wan rumbled. “You’ve been driving me mad, and it’s beneath us both.”

“I have?” Anakin ignored the second half of Obi-Wan’s words, his attention fixed on the more important first part. “You never act like I do.”

“I have morals, Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided him. “More than simple propriety dictates how it—“

Anakin groaned and kissed him again, shutting him up. He didn’t want to hear another word about propriety.

He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and held on tight, thrilled with the opportunity to finally get close like he’d wanted for so long. He rocked his hips forward, rubbing his cock harder against Obi-Wan’s linen armor and moaning at the pressure. He was so achingly hard, his erection jutting forward, the tip of his cock shiny with precome. 

Was Obi-Wan hard too? 

Anakin felt a surge of curiosity, immediately desperate to know what Obi-Wan’s cock looked like when it was erect. He’d spent years secretly studying it whenever they were at the palaistra, and had a vivid imagination, but the idea of getting to know for sure was overwhelming. 

He kissed Obi-Wan harder, letting go of his neck and dragging his hands down to his thighs, grabbing the bottom of his woolen chiton. He tugged the dirty fabric up, flipping up the skirt of stiffened linen strips that hung from the waist of Obi-Wan’s linothorax. 

Obi-Wan broke the kiss and gasped as Anakin freed his cock. He wore nothing underneath his chiton, his cock was bare—bare and so long and hard, it was flushed almost purple-red, the vein underneath standing out. Obi-Wan wanted him badly, just as badly as Anakin wanted him. 

“Fuck, Obi-Wan,” Anakin murmured in appreciation, holding his chiton up with one hand and wrapping the fingers of his other hand around Obi-Wan’s thick cock, tugging it gently. He wished desperately that he could sink to his knees and let Obi-Wan fuck his face—but he knew he wouldn’t. He knew Obi-Wan would want him to remain standing, face-to face, in the common position for him to fuck his thighs.

Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. “Where’s your oil?”

Anakin pulled away and turned back to his bedroll, bending over to pick up his small spherical flask that was still partially filled with sweet-smelling oil. He heard Obi-Wan make a low, almost involuntary noise as he bent over the bed, and had to resist the urge to spread his legs and beg.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, as if reading his mind. “Come here.”

“Yes, alright,” Anakin sighed, “Fine.” He tried not to pout as he turned around, and Obi-Wan ignored whatever pleading remained in his expression, holding out his hand impatiently for the flask. Anakin obediently handed it over, watching with rapt interest as Obi-Wan slicked his strong hands with oil, coating his thick fingers. 

“Come here,” Obi-Wan repeated, making a beckoning gesture with his shiny fingers that made Anakin whine. He wanted him to finger him so badly, he wanted him inside. “Now, Anakin.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered, stepping close. “Please touch—” Obi-Wan wrapped a hand around Anakin’s cock and gripped firmly. Anakin groaned, probably too loud, but didn’t care. “Obi-Wan, yes, oh Zeus, please—”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a kiss, open-mouthed, filthy, his hand moving faster on Anakin’s cock for a long blissful moment. So good, it felt so good. Anakin whined when Obi-Wan let go, and Obi-Wan laughed, low and warm. “So eager.”

“Yes, erastēs,” Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan’s hand slid lower, stroking gently over his balls and the soft skin behind them, but avoiding where Anakin wanted him most. Anakin’s hands jumped to grip Obi-Wan’s shoulders for balance as Obi-Wan began sliding his hand in and out, spreading the oil liberally between his legs. 

“So soft,” Obi-Wan murmured, almost to himself. He met Anakin’s gaze, pulling his hand away. “You’re so beautiful, paidika, so brave and so clever.” 

Anakin groaned and kissed him, barely able to stand up. He buried his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, hanging off his shoulders. “Please, Obi-Wan, fuck my thighs, touch me, I need you to.”

Obi-Wan lifted his chiton with one hand and rubbed the remaining oil onto his cock, rumbling a reassuring, “I will, I promise I will, but you must be patient.” 

Anakin nodded, nuzzling against Obi-Wan’s neck, licking and then sucking on his pulse point. Obi-Wan tilted his chin back, giving Anakin room, and Anakin bit down harder—he wanted to mark him, wanted to let the world know that Obi-Wan belonged to Anakin, that Obi-Wan let Anakin belong to him too.   

Obi-Wan moved one of Anakin’s hands to take over holding his chiton above his waist, and used his freed hand to tug Anakin closer by the hip. He squeezed, his fingers gripping tight enough to bruise. “Are you sure?”

Anakin tried to rock against his hold, and nodded again, whimpering. “Please, I need it.”

Obi-Wan sighed and released his hip, moving to guide his cock until the head brushed beneath Anakin’s balls, teasing, light strokes that made him squeeze his thighs together in anticipation. “Good,” Obi-Wan murmured in his ear and kissed his temple. “Very good.”

Anakin felt like he could barely breathe, and was entirely reliant on Obi-Wan to keep him upright. His cock was so hard it was trapped between his stomach and the wool of Obi-Wan’s lifted chiton. He mindlessly rocked his hips forward, seeking pressure, and then whined loudly as the action made the length of Obi-Wan’s cock sink deep between his thighs.

Obi-Wan groaned, and gripped Anakin’s hip again, seeking control. He held Anakin still and deliberately flexed his hips, thrusting his cock slowly between the apex of Anakin’s thighs, the head pressing right beneath his balls and then skimming along the sensitive skin behind. 

Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan pulled his hips back and then thrust in again harder, fucking into the tight, slick pocket between his thighs. He did it again, slapping their hips together, and Anakin groaned—their hips meeting had the effect of rubbing Anakin’s cock between them, providing maddening stimulation. 

Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around Anakin’s naked back, holding him tight, and began to fuck him faster. “Feel so good, Anakin, darling boy, I knew you would.”

“You did?” Anakin whined, squeezing his thighs and thrusting his own hips forward, desperate to grind his own cock against Obi-Wan—he needed friction, he needed pressure, he needed to come. “You thought about me?”

“Yes, of course I did, of course.” Obi-Wan kissed his temple, the sound of their hips slapping together filling the tent, making Anakin’s cock leak even more, his breath caught in his chest, his toes curling. 

“Oh,” Anakin gasped at one rough thrust, his cock pressed hard against Obi-Wan’s dirty armor. He felt so incredibly close, every thrust of Obi-Wan’s hips against him driving him closer and closer to the edge. “I didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan hummed in acknowledgement and dipped his head, seeking Anakin’s mouth. Anakin kissed him back desperately, pouring his long-held feelings into the kiss. Obi-Wan met him with equal fervor, holding him even more tightly, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm. 

Anakin pulled his head back, seeking Obi-Wan’s eyes. He needed proof that it really was Obi-Wan, and that this was really happening. Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan made a pained noise, his hips jerking forward, fucking in one last time, sinking deep between Anakin’s thighs, and came.

Anakin ground his hips forward desperately, rubbing his cock against Obi-Wan’s armor and seeking release. The sight of Obi-Wan’s face tensing, the sound of his groan, and the feeling of Obi-Wan’s come dripping down the back of Anakin’s thighs, was enough, and Anakin came too.  

The sensation was overwhelming, incredible, perfection. Anakin’s eyes rolled back as the tension released in a wave, his cock spilling come messily all over Obi-Wan’s chiton. He collapsed against Obi-Wan, holding on tightly to his shoulders, barely staying upright. 

Obi-Wan held him close, hugging him equally tightly. All distance between them had collapsed, they were tangled together, breathing shared air, their pulses racing. It was perfect, everything Anakin had wanted, needed.

Almost everything. It was enough.

Obi-Wan was naturally first to pull himself together. He squeezed Anakin and then released him, and huffed a laugh when Anakin refused to let go, still unsteady on his feet. “Are you alright?”

“I’m perfect,” Anakin mumbled, resisting another gentle tug of Obi-Wan’s to let go. “Don’t wanna move.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Obi-Wan said, actually sounding apologetic. “I’m on watch tonight.”

“Oh!” Anakin pulled back, grimacing with guilt as he looked down at Obi-Wan’s messy chiton. “Do you need to change?”

“Don’t have time,” Obi-Wan sighed, picking up a towel from Anakin’s floor with a look of distaste and beginning to wipe himself as clean as possible. At his pointed look, Anakin did the same with a dirty chiton. “Honestly, Anakin.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin dropped the cloth and sat heavily on his bed, blushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine,” Obi-Wan waved his hand, giving him a fond look. “I will not pretend that I was not complicit in getting it dirty.”

Anakin smiled, feeling slightly shy. “Sorry, erastēs.” He felt a surge of anxiety once the word passed his lips, and peered up fearfully at Obi-Wan. His eyes fell on the small purple mark he’d made on Obi-Wan’s neck. Oh no.  

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything immediately, his face thoughtful as he folded the dirty towel and gently set it aside. He adjusted his chiton, looking almost exactly as put together as he had been when he’d arrived. Anakin felt like he’d been run over by the cavalry, but Obi-Wan almost looked unperturbed. Another surge of anxiety made him look away. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Look at me, paidika.” Anakin obeyed, trying not to cry with relief that Obi-Wan still wanted him. Obi-Wan reached out and cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb against his cheekbone reassuringly. “We will talk later.”

“Will you come back tonight?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, and pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead before pulling away. “Tomorrow. We will talk tomorrow.” Anakin nodded, resigned. “Sleep well, Anakin. I don’t know what tomorrow has in store for us. We may be building fortifications.”

Anakin grimaced at the idea of that much manual labor, immediately after a day of fighting. He touched his ribs, feeling the bruise. Obi-Wan tracked the motion, and sighed. “You’ll be alright.”

Anakin nodded again, and murmured, “Good night, Obi-Wan.”

“Good night,” Obi-Wan said, touching him one more time on the cheek, and then turning to leave. “Go to sleep. Don’t stay up.”

“Yes, yes,” Anakin grumbled, beginning to pull himself under his blanket and arrange his furs. “I will.”

Obi-Wan picked up his helmet and tucked it beneath his arm, giving Anakin in bed one last, long look. He swallowed before turning his face away, taking a deep, fortifying breath and walking out of the tent. 

Anakin watched him go wistfully, and then curled onto his side, feeling completely exhausted. He couldn’t stop mentally replaying the expression on Obi-Wan’s face as he came and the sound of his groan over and over in his mind.

Obi-Wan had felt good because of him. 

It was much nicer to think about Obi-Wan than the faces of the dead men and the sounds and the smells, the crushing, breathless agony of battle that kept pushing into his mind. He’d almost died.

Anakin willfully focused instead on Obi-Wan’s voice saying paidika, him touching his cheek, taking care of him. He extinguished the lamp and relaxed into the darkness, letting sleep claim him—safe in the memory of Obi-Wan’s embrace. 

Anakin dropped his duffle with a thud and inhaled the familiar scent of his and Obi-Wan’s rooms in the Temple. He’d just gotten back from an extended mission on Felucia, and needed food, the ‘fresher, and about twenty hours of sleep. He looked around to find Obi-Wan, sensing that the gentle ripple in the Force that was Obi-Wan’s consciousness was somewhere nearby. 

He went further into their quarters and found Obi-Wan reading at the table, his face a mask of concentration. Anakin knocked on the doorframe, and Obi-Wan startled, giving him a wide-eyed, almost guilty look. Anakin’s eyes slid from his startled expression, down to his shoulder, and felt suddenly extremely confused.

“Master…” Anakin asked slowly, drawing closer to the table. “What the kriff is that?”

Obi-Wan frowned down at his datapad, flipping it off with his thumb and dropping it with a sigh. He looked back up, his expression resigned. “It’s a TinyJedi, are you familiar?” 

Anakin shook his head, unable to look away from the uncannily accurate, miniature version of himself no larger than his hand that was currently snuggled into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. “What the karking fierfek, Master?”

“Language, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as if by rote, and Anakin rolled his eyes, as always. Obi-Wan raised a finger to scratch the underside of the Tiny’s chin, making it squeak happily. “It’s one of a series of semi-sentient figurines currently being manufactured and sold in the likeness of Jedi Generals.”

“There are more of them?” Anakin asked, feeling oddly numb. “More of me? I didn’t approve that.”

Obi-Wan nodded apologetically. “The Hapans began to sell the Tinys after the trade embargo was renegotiated. I’m not sure exactly how they’re made, to be honest, or why, unless it’s some propaganda operation for the Republic of which I’m unaware, but regardless…” Obi-Wan sighed. “Quinlan gave it to me last week.” 

“Why?”

Obi-Wan sighed again, louder, and Anakin recognized it as his specific sigh for any and all Quinlan-related nonsense. “His rationale was that he didn’t recognize me without my Padawan hanging off my robes.”

“Really?” Anakin scoffed, more than slightly offended. He didn’t hang off… well, he hadn’t hung off Obi-Wan’s robes in ages.  

“Allegedly.” Obi-Wan gently lifted the Tiny from his shoulder down to the table, giving the miniature Anakin a gentle pat on the head and tugged over what Anakin recognized as one of Qui-Gon’s old tea cozies for it to snuggle against. 

“Is it like a pet? Do you have to feed it?”

“No, it’s the strangest thing.” Obi-Wan sounded vaguely wistful. “It feeds off my attention and affection.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, feeling odd. “And you are able to… give it that?” Obi-Wan gave him a vaguely offended look. “Oh,” Anakin mumbled. “Right, yes, of course.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, looking back at the Tiny, his voice filling with a fondness that made Anakin’s chest feel tight. “Minikin is really very cute.” He held out a finger, letting the Tiny hug it and squeak up at him affectionately. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you the cutest?”

“Minikin?” Anakin repeated, feeling slightly faint at the sight of Obi-Wan smiling warmly down at the Tiny. He couldn’t believe his eyes when Obi-Wan began adjusting the Tiny’s little tabards so that the uncannily accurate Jedi robes looked perfectly tidy. He repeated himself again, even more incredulously, “Minikin?”

Obi-Wan finally looked back up and shrugged. “Quinlan named him, and it felt rude to change it.” 

“Of course.” Anakin shook his head, the unreality of the situation suddenly too much to handle. He would deal with all of this later— the cumulative fatigue of his last mission was catching up to him all at once. He rubbed his eyes and tried to swallow a yawn.  “Well, enjoy.”

“It is good to see you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said kindly, looking him over more closely. “Go get some rest.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin gave him a small smile that Obi-Wan returned for a moment, before his attention was diverted away by a demanding series of squeaks. Anakin grinned as Minikin made his needs known, and he left the room, strangely glad that someone was taking over his job of hassling Obi-Wan like Obi-Wan needed to be hassled. 

Anakin shoved a powdery square of candy into his mouth, winding cheerfully through a shopping district near the Temple.

He was enjoying a small amount of private time during his leave, seeking out all his favorite places from when he was a Padawan. He’d discovered a type of candy from Kashyyyk at age eleven that he’d craved ever since and could rarely find except at one shop in lower Coruscant and on Kashyyyk. 

He passed by a brightly lit and almost garishly colored store awning, the display filled with toys and games of all kinds. Anakin’s eyes would have slid past it, as usual, except for one detail that caught and held his focus. 

It was a Tiny of Obi-Wan.

Anakin looked from side to side guiltily, as if checking to make sure that he wasn’t under observation, debating with himself about the wisdom of looking closer. He gave in, of course, and crossed the road.

It’s not that he’d spent all day looking for one or anything, it was just interesting to know that the Tiny of Obi-Wan was one of the most popular being produced, outselling everyone except the Tiny of Aayla Secura. 

Anakin felt slightly offended that more people wanted a Tiny General Kenobi than a Tiny General Skywalker, but really there was no accounting for taste. The result of Obi-Wan’s popularity meant that it was almost impossible to find Tiny Obi-Wans. They were sold out everywhere. 

Not that Anakin had been looking, because he hadn’t. 

He had. 

Anakin entered the shop, and hastened to the back toward the display of Tiny Jedi behind the counter. His smile grew despite himself as he saw the rows of familiar faces among the peacefully sleeping Tinys. It should be creepy and weird, but it somehow wasn’t, they were so cute and harmless.  

He pushed credits at the overly-friendly Twi’lek working the shop, and watched with bated breath as she gently extracted one of the last remaining Tiny Obi-Wans and handed him over. He pushed a suggestion that she hadn’t recognized him, just in case, and left quickly, his new Tiny clutched to his chest. 

He startled when he felt movement in his palm, and he looked down, eyes widening as… Tiny-Wan… stretched and opened his eyes, blinking owlishly. He looked so much like Obi-Wan first thing in the morning that Anakin’s heart felt full. He grinned, and the Tiny looked up at him like he was the most important person in the world. 

“Hello,” Anakin said, almost shyly. “Can I call you Tiny-Wan?”

Tiny-Wan squeaked and nodded, sitting up and looking around curiously. Anakin hugged him to his chest and began walking back to the Temple. He knew this was probably a bad idea, but as Tiny-Wan snuggled back into his palm, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. 

Obi-Wan stood frozen in the doorway of Anakin’s bedroom, his brow furrowing. He somehow put an entire question and lecture in one word, a specialty of his: “Anakin…”

“You have Minikin,” Anakin said defensively, putting down the logic processor he was tinkering with and picking up Tiny-Wan, holding him to his chest. “It’s only fair I get Tiny-Wan.”

“Tiny-Wan?” Obi-Wan repeated in a dubious voice. 

Minikin squeaked loudly from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, pointing insistently at Tiny-Wan sitting in Anakin’s hand. Anakin smiled as Tiny-Wan stood and bowed formally in greeting, as he’d seen his Master do before dignitaries countless times over the past decade. 

Obi-Wan sighed and brought Minikin closer, setting him down on the workbench next to Anakin’s latest project. “I suppose they should be acquainted, if they are to share space.”

Anakin nodded and set down Tiny-Wan. They both watched with fascination as the Tinys met in the middle of the bench, and Minikin threw his arms around Tiny-Wan, hugging him tightly. Tiny-Wan made a loud, offended squeak and Minikin pulled back with a look of confusion and a series of wounded, apologetic squeaks. 

“Their squeaks seem to have meaning to each other,” Anakin said speculatively.

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. “How fascinating.”

Tiny-Wan seemed to melt before Minikin’s earnest agitation, and he hurriedly wrapped his arms around Minikin’s shoulders. Minikin went still, and Tiny-Wan tugged him back and began squeaking lowly in his ear, his tone reassuring. Minikin’s little face began to glow pink as he blushed and nodded.

Anakin felt strangely comforted too, and felt a wave of affection for his Tiny-Wan—he’d only had him for a matter of hours, but he was already extremely attached. It had nothing to do with how he felt about Obi-Wan. The Tiny was very cute and small, that was all.

Tiny-Wan looked up at him, seemingly aware of the affection that Anakin had felt. He squeaked a farewell to Minikin and raised his hands toward Anakin in the universal gesture of Pick Me Up Please.

Anakin smiled at him, and lowered his hand, letting Tiny-Wan climb on and hug his thumb. He couldn’t help but lift Tiny-Wan up and peck a small kiss on his tiny head, and then felt a surge of horror. 

He looked over at Obi-Wan, who was watching with a complicated emotion on his face that was quickly wiped blank. Anakin suspected he wasn’t meant to have seen any reaction at all, and felt vaguely confused and concerned. Tiny-Wan squeaked at him, and then snuggled against his thumb again, rubbing his tiny bearded cheek on Anakin’s skin reassuringly.

Obi-Wan picked up Minikin and let Minikin squeak excitedly at him, gesturing towards Tiny-Wan and jumping up and down. Obi-Wan smiled at him fondly, and let him climb back on his shoulder and hug his neck. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin made eye contact for an uncomfortable moment, and then Obi-Wan cleared his throat and looked away. “I recorded the latest episode of that awful show you’re watching.”

“Really?” Anakin grinned, and hugged Tiny-Wan to his chest happily. “Will you watch with me?”

Minikin squirmed on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and squeaked enthusiastically in his ear. 

“I seem to be outvoted,” Obi-Wan said genially. “I’ll have a droid bring up dinner.”

“Yes!” Anakin grinned. He stood up fast, Tiny-Wan squeaking indignantly at the rapid change in position. Anakin cradled him apologetically, and kissed his little head again. He couldn’t help it. Tiny-Wan was too cute. 

Obi-Wan sighed. 

Anakin lay sprawled over the couch, his arm draped over the side and his feet in Obi-Wan’s lap. The holo had ended, but neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan had made any move to leave or put on anything else. 

Minikin and Tiny-Wan were stripped down to their trousers, circling each other on the floor and watching each other intently. At some point during the holo, the Tinys had crawled off their respective people and begun sparring, of all things. Minikin had been squeaking almost nonstop, and Anakin had a suspicion Tiny-Wan had only agreed to get him to be quiet. 

Anakin was very proud of Minikin, and jealous. No amount of his own squeaking would get his Master to do what he wanted him to do. 

Anakin watched with fascination as Minikin feinted to the right and then swung from the left. Tiny-Wan dodged the blow, and darted forward, wrapping his tiny arms around Minikin’s chest and tackling him to the floor. 

The two Tinys began to wrestle, gripping each other and squeaking furiously. Eventually, Tiny-Wan had Minikin in a hold, and Minikin squeaked in submission. The two Tinys didn’t separate immediately, Tiny-Wan keeping Minikin underneath him, squeaking in his ear. 

Minikin was turning pink, and frankly, so was Anakin. Seeing the Tinys pressed together like that was giving him ideas—pointless and bad ideas. Tiny-Wan finally shifted his weight off Minikin slightly, and Anakin could have sworn he heard Obi-Wan exhale in relief. 

But that wasn’t possible, was it?

Anakin blushed to think that Obi-Wan could have been imagining the same things that he had been. What must he have thought seeing the two of them in that position —Tiny-Wan topping Minikin and Minikin liking it. How embarrassing for his old Master, who would never normally think of Anakin in that way.

Minikin took the opportunity of Tiny-Wan releasing him from his hold to flip over and roll on top of Tiny-Wan, straddling his hips, holding his arms to the floor and squeaking loudly with satisfaction. 

Anakin definitely didn’t make up the sound of Obi-Wan’s sigh this time. “Do you want to watch anything else?”

“Sure, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said levelly, pulling his eyes away from Tiny-Wan’s deepening blush. “Podracing?”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan sighed again, fondly this time, and reached for the remote. “I should have guessed.”

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin knocked on the door of their quarters, confused as to why Obi-Wan had locked the deadbolt. What the kriff, Obi-Wan? “Open the door!”

“Just a moment!” Obi-Wan’s stressed voice came back, his presence in the Force bubbling with exasperation, frustration, and… something else. Embarrassment?

“I need to come in, Master!” Anakin huffed and banged on the door once with his metal fist. “Ahsoka wants to meet Tiny-Wan! I think I left him in there!”

Obi-Wan snapped back, “You did!”

“What?” Anakin asked, baffled. 

The door opened suddenly, and Anakin raised his eyebrows. Obi-Wan’s face was uncharacteristically flushed, his jaw clenched. “Just come and get him please.”

Anakin trotted into their apartment, his attention caught by the sound of fervent squeaking. He gave Obi-Wan a confused look, but Obi-Wan was avoiding his gaze. “Master, what…?”

“Just get him,” Obi-Wan said weakly, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I can’t… I can’t get them to stop.”

“Stop what?” Anakin poked his head around the corner, and froze. They were… He blinked, and then pulled his head back sharply, trying to process what the kriff he’d just seen. 

“I found them… like that…” Obi-Wan sounded pained. “I didn’t know they were… capable.”

“I didn’t either,” Anakin agreed faintly. He poked his head back around the corner just to verify, just to be sure that he’d seen what he thought he saw. 

Bluntly put, the Tinys were fucking on the table.

Anakin stared at them for a long moment. Minikin was on his stomach, bent over the corner of… 

“Qui-Gon’s favorite tea cozy…” Anakin said faintly, and heard Obi-Wan give a pained moan. 

“I know.”

“They’re really…” 

“I know.”

Anakin’s cheeks felt incredibly hot. “Do we… stop them?”

“I tried,” Obi-Wan said, sounding vaguely traumatized. “Once I realized what was… happening… but then, Minikin bit me!” 

“He bit you?” Anakin felt scandalized. He could hear the squeaking from the kitchen growing even more heated. Tiny-Wan’s squeaks were identifiable by an oddly bossy tone that was both familiar and excruciatingly new to Anakin’s ears. 

“He bit me,” Obi-Wan repeated, running his hands over his face and groaning with frustration. 

Anakin felt an overwhelming urge to move away—he couldn’t stay there another moment. He couldn’t possibly keep listening to this, the Tinys were so… happy… He asked, slightly desperately, “Do you want to come spar with me and Ahsoka?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said quickly, relief washing over his face. “Let’s get out of here.”

Anakin nodded, unable to resist looking around the corner one last time, the visual of Tiny-Wan intently and passionately fucking Minikin both painful and essential for him to see. “I’ll tell her I couldn’t find him.”

Obi-Wan clipped on his lightsaber and scoffed, grabbing Anakin by the back of his robes and pushing him toward the door. “Good idea.”

Unfortunately, it seemed that the Tinys had only just begun their exploration of each other’s bodies.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had been witness to their… behavior… several times over the next few days, and honestly the resulting situation in their apartment had rapidly grown unsustainable. It just never got less awkwardly fascinating to see Tiny-Wan industriously railing Minikin in every conceivable position. 

Anakin mechanically spooned cereal into his mouth and stared into the middle distance, ignoring the squeaking coming from the lovenest in the corner hastily constructed from pillows and blankets to try to induce the Tinys to fuck in one place in particular rather than anywhere and everywhere. 

Shame and modesty were two traits that the Tinys apparently failed to possess. 

Anakin’s eyes, as always, found their way back to Tiny-Wan and Minikin. Minikin was on his back, legs in the air, arms wrapped around Tiny-Wan’s shoulders. Tiny-Wan had been keeping up an impressive pace for awhile now, fucking a happily squeaking Minikin into the pillow. 

“Are they still?” Obi-Wan poked his head around the doorframe warily. 

Anakin made a low noise of affirmation, taking another bite of cereal and chewing deliberately. 

Obi-Wan came around the corner and headed straight to the tea cupboard, rolling his eyes and swearing quietly, “Blast it all.” 

“Just ignore them, Master,” Anakin said with an equanimity he did not feel, and took another bite of cereal. 

Obi-Wan gave him a skeptical look. “That works for you? You don’t feel very calm in the Force. Why are you even eating in here?”

“This is where the cereal is.”

“But you could—”

Anakin huffed, and gave the corner a resentful look. Minikin was on top now, riding Tiny-Wan with commendable vigor. Tiny-Wan’s squeaks were low and encouraging, entirely too suggestive. “I’m not giving up half the apartment because of them.”

“As you wish,” Obi-Wan said skeptically, his face turning back to the corner for a moment before blushing and looking away. “I can’t possibly stay in here.”

Anakin hummed, evaluating Obi-Wan’s perpetually flustered expression. He would have thought his Master would handle this better than him, but he wasn’t. He was even more unsettled than Anakin was. Why? “Why does it bother you so much?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened incredulously. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

Anakin shrugged, looking back at where the Tinys were cuddling now, and kissing slowly with something that looked very much like love. His previous state of mild arousal transitioned quickly into jealous longing. “They’re enjoying it. It’s not hurting anyone. I mean… I wish they wouldn’t, but I’m getting over it.”

“You’re getting over it.” Obi-Wan imitated his voice, filling the kettle with water and giving him a dubious look. 

“Yes,” Anakin said stubbornly, watching as Obi-Wan moved around the kitchen in his usual routine. “Why aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan flipped on the heater with a frown. His posture was less tense now that the squeaking had stopped, but he was nowhere near relaxed. “What…”  

Anakin crossed his arms, trying to mask his own lingering arousal with a casual attitude. “They’re just dolls, Master. Just ignore it. They’re not us.”

“They look like us.” Obi-Wan leaned against the counter, equally casual, spinning his mug in his hands. “Seeing them at it is… pornographic.”

“Only if it arouses you.”

Obi-Wan gave him a warning look. “I didn’t say that.”

“I know. It’s what’s really bothering you though, isn’t it.”

“What is?” Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, his voice sounding slightly dangerous.

Anakin was so tired of avoiding the bantha in the room. “The fact that it’s hot, Master.”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, his mug froze its spin in his hands. He set it down deliberately. “You think it’s…”

Anakin picked up his bowl, stalling by drinking the remaining blue milk, sweetened with the cereal’s sugary coating. He heard Obi-Wan make a disgusted noise, and smiled against the bowl as he finished. That had always bothered Obi-Wan.

He set the bowl down and wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand, aware of Obi-Wan’s eyes tracking the gesture. “They’re cute.”

“They’re cute,” Obi-Wan repeated faintly. “It’s… Why aren’t you disturbed to see… that?”

“You know it’s nothing I haven’t thought about.”

“Are you serious?” Obi-Wan said, a mix of emotions on his face like clouds gathering into a storm. “You can’t… That’s not... ”

“It’s true,” Anakin gave Obi-Wan a stern look, imitating a lecture from many years before. “These kinds of thoughts are natural, Anakin, but you must allow them to pass, and release their energy into the Force.”

“You were sixteen!” Obi-Wan said, horrified at the invocation of the time that a joint meditation had revealed Anakin’s painfully strong crush on his Master. “Everybody has that… phase.”

“It wasn’t a phase,” Anakin scoffed, offended. 

“Everyone imprints on their authority figure to some degree,” Obi-Wan’s face was going blank again, his spine straightening, and Anakin felt a surge of despair at Obi-Wan retreating behind his teaching-persona.  

He stood up, and crossed the kitchen, crowding into Obi-Wan’s space. “Don’t do that. You know it’s not like that.”

Obi-Wan stared up at him, alarmed at his approach. “It absolutely was like that.” 

“Well,” Anakin whispered, “It’s not like that anymore, Obi-Wan. I’ve been a Knight for more than a year. I’m an adult by every conceivable standard.”

“I know you are,” Obi-Wan said, slightly desperately, his eyes flicking to the door.

“Don’t leave.” Anakin put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. 

Obi-Wan looked down at the point of contact, and up at Anakin with a scowl, the teaching-persona gone. “We can’t do this, Anakin.”

“So you do want to?” Anakin asked, putting his other hand on Obi-Wan’s neck, tracking his rising blush. “You do want me too?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth snapped shut, and he froze under Anakin’s hands, his breathing stopped. His eyes flicked between Anakin’s, and he seemed to be thinking quickly. Anakin didn’t want to wait for him to come up with whatever excuse he would give to push Anakin off. 

He leaned forward, pushing Obi-Wan into the counter, and kissed him insistently. Obi-Wan’s hands jumped to grab his shirt, as if to push him back, and Anakin whimpered in frustration. The noise made Obi-Wan freeze, and Anakin whimpered again.

Obi-Wan melted against him and tugged him close rather than pushing him away, finally returning the kiss, moving his lips against Anakin as if in an apology for his indecision. Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, and leaned into him, pressing as close as he could. Finally, finally… 

Obi-Wan broke the kiss and took a deep shaky breath. He stroked his hands up and down Anakin’s back almost absently, and Anakin ground his hips into him, his cock throbbing. Obi-Wan’s hands slid down to his hips and grabbed them, holding him still. 

“Master,” Anakin panted, moving to kiss under his chin and down his neck. “Please, can we?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, slightly breathless, and tipped his head to the side, letting Anakin kiss his neck. “It’s unwise.”

“I don’t care,” Anakin whined. He pulled his head back, looking at Obi-Wan earnestly. “I want to. I want you to.”

Obi-Wan’s expression melted, and he squeezed Anakin’s hips. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Anakin beamed, a surge of victory pulling him forward to kiss Obi-Wan with enthusiasm. “Alright!”

Obi-Wan chuckled into the kiss, and pulled him close. Anakin smiled against his lips, the kiss turning sloppy and slow. He whimpered, and Obi-Wan licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss. 

Excited squeaking made Anakin pull his head back, both of them looking into the corner, where the Tinys were watching them and squeaking happily at each other. Minikin was almost bouncing up and down where he was sitting, pointing at Anakin and Obi-Wan with a massive smile on his face. 

Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan and they both laughed. Obi-Wan said, “Not in here,” and Anakin nodded fervently in agreement. They gave the Tinys one last look and Minikin waved at them happily, and Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s shirt and tugged him out of the kitchen.

“Do you have lube?” Obi-Wan asked, slightly breathless. “I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Anakin said, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the implication that Obi-Wan wasn’t bringing people around. 

Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look. “Why would I?”

“Well, I do,” Anakin said and tugged him again, pointing him toward his room. “I wouldn’t be able to get off without it.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, bemused. 

Anakin gave him a look and pushed him toward his bed. He opened a small cabinet and pulled out the lube and tossed it toward Obi-Wan, and then grabbed the toy that he’d smuggled into the Temple as a teenager and wiggled it in Obi-Wan's face.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, his face going red, pulling off his shirt and effectively hiding his face for a moment. He looked marginally more composed when he tossed it to the floor. “You… use that… on yourself?” 

Anakin smirked, and pulled off his own shirt, shoving his pants to the floor. Obi-Wan’s eyes fixed on his cock, and Anakin felt a white lightning strike of arousal, his cock twitching as it became achingly hard. He put a hand on it, squeezing the head, and Obi-Wan groaned. 

“Master,” Anakin said, approaching the bed and watching Obi-Wan shed his pants too. “Top or bottom?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes finally left Anakin’s cock, sliding slowly up his stomach and chest to his face. He licked his lips, almost nervously. “Top?”

“Perfect,” Anakin breathed. He grinned and bounced down on the bed, spreading his legs and grabbing the lube. “I’d hoped so. Tiny-Wan certainly—”

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan cut him off, and snagged the lube out of his hands, opening it himself. “Don’t talk about the blasted Tinys.”

“Didn’t you like it?” Anakin asked, watching breathlessly as Obi-Wan coated his fingers until they were slick. “I liked watching you fuck me.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan groaned again, sliding forward to kneel between his spread legs. “Of course I liked it.”

Anakin spread his legs wider, feeling a surge of something like shyness as Obi-Wan pressed down on his thighs—exposing him and staring down intently. “Master?”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. His eyes were dark with arousal, his cock so hard. “Yes?”

Anakin blushed, not sure what he wanted to say. He just wanted Obi-Wan to look at him, and Obi-Wan smiled as if he knew. He leaned forward and kissed Anakin, a gentle reassurance. Anakin made a low, happy noise, and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, tugging him close and kissing him back. 

One of Obi-Wan’s hands found his cock, and stroked him once, making Anakin’s hips jerk up into his touch. Obi-Wan hummed with satisfaction, and pulled his head back from the kiss, looking into Anakin’s eyes. “You really do want this, don’t you.”

Anakin nodded, his cheeks feeling hot. Obi-Wan smiled at him, and shook his head incredulously, and the fingers of the hand not rubbing Anakin's cock slid from his balls back to circle his entrance. “I thought you were with Padmé.”

“We’re friends now,” Anakin panted, biting his lip, all of his effort going into not grinding his hips down into Obi-Wan’s hand. “If you keep touching my cock I’m going to come, Master.”

Obi-Wan grinned and kissed him again, and he seemed full of relief and satisfaction that Anakin’s old relationship with Padmé wasn’t the problem he’d apparently thought it was. The hand on Anakin’s cock moved to hold his legs open wider as Obi-Wan pushed a slick finger harder against him, teasing pressure where he wanted it most. 

Anakin couldn’t help but rock his hips in an attempt to get the finger inside him, moaning with frustration as Obi-Wan moved with him, evading his effort. “Master!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan smirked, rubbing so, so gently against Anakin’s entrance. “Can I help you with something?”

“Force, Master, are you going to be a kriffing sleemo or are you going to fuck me?”

“Language,” Obi-Wan said in a mockingly disappointed voice, and pushed the finger inside, working it insistently through the tight muscle. Anakin’s back arched and he moaned loudly, his cock leaking precome onto his stomach. 

Obi-Wan murmured, “Very good, darling.”

“Master,” Anakin whimpered as Obi-Wan began to slide the finger in and out, opening him up. “Feels so good, Master.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, voice low and promising. “I want you to feel good.”

Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan added another thick finger, the slight stretch and burn fading quickly as he gently opened him up. Anakin used all his practice with his toy to help, he’d fucked himself thinking about Obi-Wan so much, he’d wanted him so bad, he’d needed him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his tone slightly strangled. “Your emotions are very clear in the Force.”

“Are they?” Anakin said, unrepentant. “Fuck me about it.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and pulled his fingers out, grabbing the lube and dispensing a copious amount onto his cock. “Fine.”

“Great,” Anakin smiled, spreading his legs wider and letting Obi-Wan settle on his elbows over him, resting in the cradle of his hips. Anakin hummed with satisfaction at the sensation of Obi-Wan’s hairy chest pressed against his own, and he rubbed his cheek on Obi-Wan’s beard. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement and reached down to line up his cock. He pushed the slick head against Anakin, looking down at him intently, peering into his eyes. Anakin’s mouth fell open and he made a small, surprised sound as Obi-Wan flexed his hips forward, pressing inside slowly, too slowly.  

“Please!” Anakin repeated, eyes wide, and rocked his hips up to meet him. Obi-Wan groaned as he sank inches deeper, and he fucked his hips forward in response, and slid home, his cock buried so deep inside. 

Obi-Wan froze, and they both tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation. Anakin groaned with satisfaction at being stuffed so full. It was so much, so fast, and it was perfect. “Yes!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan rasped, moving a hand into his hair, grabbing and tugging gently. “Anakin.”

Anakin nodded, and pushed his head into Obi-Wan’s hand, rocking his hips up. He moaned as he fucked himself on Obi-Wan’s hard cock, and Obi-Wan remained still, the expression on his face almost dazed. 

Anakin groaned and kissed him. “Fuck me, Master.”

“Needy thing,” Obi-Wan muttered against his lips. “Impatient. Slow down. You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?” Anakin nodded and whined. “Enjoy it. I am.”

“You are?” Anakin gasped for breath, trying to do as he was told, stilling his hips. He looked up at Obi-Wan feeling a wave of vulnerability. “Master?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan gave him his warmest look, his eyes crinkling, and there was so much affection in his eyes that Anakin almost felt like crying. “Yes, Anakin.” His hips snapped forward, fucking into Anakin hard, making him moan. “Very good, Padawan.”

Anakin felt his cock throb, and pushed up so that he could press his cock against Obi-Wan’s stomach as Obi-Wan fucked him. Obi-Wan hummed in approval, and began to thrust down into him hard, their bodies pressed so close together. The sound of their hips slapping together filled the room, and Anakin’s moans grew louder with every thrust. 

“Master,” Anakin whined, embarassed by how fast he was losing control. “I’m going to come, Master. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Do you know how it makes me feel to have you desperate to come on my cock, so easy to please, so sensitive for me, so good,” Obi-Wan’s low, rapid murmur washed over him, punctuated by rolling thrusts of his hips. “I want you to come, come when you want, Anakin, my Anakin.”

“Master,” Anakin groaned, a sharp thrust from Obi-Wan rubbing exactly against a place inside that made stars bloom in his eyes and his balls tighten against his body—he was on the edge, so close, so very close.

“Come, Anakin,” Obi-Wan ordered, a low, bossy tone that made Anakin whine and tip over the edge into the most powerful orgasm he’d probably ever had, the release he felt as come spilled between them was overwhelming. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he felt Obi-Wan’s final thrusts as if they were the only feeling in the world. 

“Fuck, Anakin,” Obi-Wan groaned, his hips stuttering, his face tightening. “Anakin.”

“Master,” Anakin whimpered back, the end of his orgasm leaving him fuzzy and blissful, a smile growing on his face until he was beaming up at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan met his eyes and made a low groan, and pulled out, his hand jumping to jerk his cock quickly, his come spilling onto Anakin’s stomach and mixing with Anakin’s own. Anakin ran his fingers through it and brought it to his mouth, and Obi-Wan groaned again. “Anakin, yes.”

Anakin laughed, feeling a bubbly, golden sort of joy, incredulous and satisfied. He pulled Obi-Wan down and hugged him against him in a hold tight enough that Obi-Wan gave an audible exhalation of breath and complained in a strangled voice. “Gross.”

Anakin laughed again, and let Obi-Wan slide to the side. Obi-Wan reached for his shirt and wiped them off quickly, and dropped the shirt to the side. The room was quiet except for their heavy breathing, and Anakin looked over, feeling a swell of concern that Obi-Wan might regret it. 

Obi-Wan was smiling up at the ceiling, catching his breath. Noticing Anakin’s look, he raised an arm in invitation, and Anakin sighed with relief and burrowed against Obi-Wan’s side, pushing his face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and inhaling deeply. 

Obi-Wan stroked his back, letting him settle against his side. It was blissfully peaceful for a moment, and then they both froze. A loud chorus of squeaks made them look over at the door, where they saw the faces of the Tinys peeking in curiously. 

Anakin made eye contact with Obi-Wan and they both laughed. “Kriff, I hope they weren’t watching.”

Obi-Wan nodded, and then beckoned at Minikin, inviting them in. “They probably were. Such strange little things.”

Anakin sighed. “At least they put their clothes back on.”

“Small favors,” Obi-Wan agreed, and kissed him.

Anakin should not have thrown his Baked Alaska in the bin. He knew this. He’d fucked up, and there would be no fixing it. He had nothing to present to the judges now, and Obi-Wan was going to look at him like he was worthless before sending him home. His bright blue eyes were always so intense, and all Anakin ever wanted was for him to look at him warmly and with pride.

That would never happen again now.

The whole competition had been great while it lasted, almost unreal—the best experience of Anakin’s life. All of the judgings, positive and negative, had been incredible, with Obi-Wan studying him intently while he placed a forkful of his bake in his mouth. The way his jaw moved as he chewed deliberately, his expression so inscrutable for seconds that felt like hours, before resolving into either delight or disdain. The way his strong hands had ripped apart his bread, pressing into it with his thick fingers before pronouncing it underbaked and underproved.

It had been amazing, and Anakin had ruined it, as usual. His roommate Ahsoka had originally entered him in the Great British Bake Off as a joke, making fun of his painful crush on the famous judge and legendary breadmaker Obi-Wan Kenobi. It had been due to his crush that he had begun to bake at all, and it had been mildly terrifying to have been chosen to compete, and every time he was in the same room and breathing the same air as Obi-Wan Kenobi, he almost perished with nerves. 

Despite that, he had actually managed to perform fairly well in the competition over the last few weeks. Obi-Wan had even praised him highly a few times, and it was beyond thrilling to have his eyes focused on Anakin, even for a minute. He’d shaken his hand once over his Chelsea buns, and it had been incredible—he’d been smiling so warmly, his eyes crinkling happily as he gave Anakin’s hand a gentle but firm squeeze.

That was over now, though. It was all over.

Anakin sniffed and wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath and looking around the surprisingly ornate room in mild confusion. He’d walked in a blind rage out of the baking tent where the competition was held, yanking off his apron and microphone and dropping them on a table. He’d marched across the wide green lawn toward the hosting manor house, feeling desperate to get away and hide from the cameras. 

There were few things he hated more than crying in public, and it made him so uncomfortable to know that tears had been spilling down his face anyway. He had been looking for the bathroom and must have taken a wrong turn and ended up in some kind of fancy study instead. It smelled expensive, anyway. Growing up as he had in suburban American sprawl before moving to London, he always felt unsettled when he realized he was in a room older than his hometown. 

The white peaks of the tent were just visible out of the large window, with the hot summer sun pouring light in and illuminating the otherwise dark room. The bookshelves and desk looked like they were probably hundreds of years old, the wood was a rich golden brown and delicately carved. The books all had leather bindings that matched. He was almost certainly not supposed to be in here, but he felt no urge to leave. It was quiet, shadowy, and private.

He had no idea how long he’d been crying and trying to calm himself down. He was still so angry, but sadness and self-hatred were settling on fast. Was there even a point in going back? It was all over. 

“What have you done, Anakin?”

Anakin jumped and snapped his head around toward the door, his stomach dropping with surprise.

Obi-Wan was standing in the open doorway, leaning almost casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest. He looked so impossibly handsome—his soft beige henley stretched maddeningly over his broad shoulders, the sunlight illuminating a hint of grey at his temples. 

Anakin had no idea how long he’d been there, watching him cry. His cheeks burned at the idea of being observed by the worst possible person to see him while he was so vulnerable. It was impossible to read the expression on Obi-Wan’s face, but his tone was severe as usual as he repeated himself. “Anakin? What have you done?”

Anakin used the backs of his hands to roughly wipe away tears from his cheeks, and stood up straight, trying to pull himself together. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“That’s a pity,” Obi-Wan murmured, without much pity at all, “because I have questions for you.” 

Anakin scowled and looked away. He didn’t understand why it was Obi-Wan himself quizzing him, and not someone less important. Why did it have to be Obi-Wan? Why was he doing this ? “You already know what happened.”  

“I have been briefed by the production team, yes, however they were not able to explain why it happened.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps not.” Obi-Wan pushed off the doorframe and entered the room, walking closer as Anakin fought the urge to back up into the desk behind him, feeling more than slightly cornered. “Why did you really throw your showstopper in the bin, Anakin?”

“It was ruined.” 

Obi-Wan came to a stop before him and gave him a skeptical look that hit like a punch to the gut. “Completely?”

Anakin nodded once, trying and failing to keep his bottom lip from sticking out. “It melted and collapsed and looked terrible.”

“Did the sponge melt?”

“I mean…” Anakin swallowed. “No, but it was swamped in melted ice cream.”

Obi-Wan looked decidedly unimpressed. “You could still have presented something, Anakin, and had a chance to continue on the strength of your flavors, but you chose to destroy it all and fail completely. Why?”

“I was…” Anakin blinked rapidly, and struggled to find the words to describe how he’d felt. He licked his lips anxiously, and blushed as Obi-Wan’s eyes fell to his mouth. “I was so angry.”

“Why were you so angry?”

Anakin growled, gesticulating sharply toward the tent outside. “Jocasta ruined it! It was perfect and she ruined it. I’m sorry I put it in the wrong freezer but she should have told me and not just taken it out and left it on a bench! It melted completely! She should have told me!”

“That would have been polite, yes. But she didn’t actually throw your bake away, Anakin. You did that.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped, all the fight going out of him. The urge to cry was so strong; he didn’t know if he could fight it. “I know that.”

“So why did you?” Obi-Wan peered at him intently, trying to read the answer on his face. 

Anakin flushed with embarrassment and looked at the ceiling as his eyes filled with tears again, willing them not to fall. He cleared his throat before trying to talk. “It wasn’t perfect anymore.” 

“So?” Obi-Wan sighed, and rested a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, pressing down slightly. The touch was warm and grounding. “It would hardly have been your first flawed bake.”

Anakin shook his head slightly, and tried not to lean into Obi-Wan’s hand. “After yesterday, I didn’t want to disappoint y…” He swallowed, his throat felt thick and the words were hard to shape. “I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”

“Well, good job,” Obi-Wan said lightly, his gaze sharp.

Anakin bowed his head in dismay, letting the tears fall. His cheeks felt so hot, and his hands were trembling. He bit his lip as Obi-Wan’s hand squeezed gently and then dropped from his shoulder, and he felt a swell of despair and relief as Obi-Wan stepped back and turned back to the door.

Instead of leaving, however, Obi-Wan swung the door closed with a firm click. Anakin’s head jerked up in confusion, and he watched with wide eyes as Obi-Wan flipped a lock on the door, locking them in together. Why?

Obi-Wan turned back to look at him, his voice low and intent. “I do appreciate your passion for baking, Anakin. You are an excellent baker, a very talented and innovative one. I truly believe you could have made it to the finals, even won the competition, but your pride and fear has prevented that.”

Anakin’s eyes widened at the unexpected praise, and he nodded in concession, unable to breathe as Obi-Wan returned to stand in front of him, so close to him. Why was he so close?

“If you don’t present a showstopper today, we will be forced to eliminate you. You will not be moving forward in the competition. You will not be returning to the tent next week. You understand that, yes?”

“I understand.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and rubbed a hand on his beard, smoothing it down. Anakin wanted to touch it, wanted so badly to know if it was as soft as it looked, but knew he never could. Obi-Wan gave him a serious look. “I’m extremely disappointed in you for your little display of temper.”

Anakin cringed, overwhelmed with the intensity of Obi-Wan so focused on him. It was terrifying. It was all he’d ever wanted, ever needed. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you?”

“Yes!”

Obi-Wan leaned closer, his voice growing deeper and quieter. “How sorry?”

“What?” Anakin gaped at him, looking rapidly between his eyes, trying to understand. Obi-Wan took another small step forward, his expression intent. Anakin inhaled a shaky breath and whispered, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Good,” Obi-Wan breathed, one hand returning to grip Anakin’s shoulder, the other hand siding around the back of his neck, pulling him forward. “You should be.”

The gap between them closed and Obi-Wan’s lips brushed against Anakin’s, kissing him gently for a long moment before pulling him even closer, sucking on his bottom lip. Anakin trembled, his mind turning into static as he instinctively and numbly kissed back. What? How?

Obi-Wan kissed him more firmly, and Anakin went almost limp in his hold, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s back and kissing him with growing desperation as it became more and more real that it was actually happening. Obi-Wan had kissed him, was kissing him, why?

Obi-Wan pushed him back against the desk, and he sat down easily, pulling Obi-Wan with him and spreading his thighs to draw him closer, chest to chest. Obi-Wan hummed in approval and deepened the kiss, licking into Anakin’s open mouth—tasting him and then groaning quietly. He tipped his head back to murmur against his lips, “so sweet.”

Anakin’s cock twitched and he whimpered into Obi-Wan’s kiss, his hips rocking involuntarily, seeking friction. Obi-Wan's hands slid down to his waist, gripping him tight and holding him still, as he pulled his head back, looking intently into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me, Anakin?”

“N-no,” Anakin stuttered, lost and drowning in his sharp blue eyes—they cut him open and made him feel completely seen, known, and judged. His cock throbbed and he whimpered, breathing hard. “Please...”

Obi-Wan’s hands tightened on his waist, and he lifted one brow, his voice almost wry as he rubbed his rapidly hardening cock against Anakin’s. “Please what, darling?”

Anakin whimpered at being called darling in Obi-Wan’s perfect, posh accent. He rocked against him again, uncaring how desperate he seemed. How desperate he was. “Please touch me.”

Obi-Wan smirked at him, his eyes hooded and heavy with satisfaction. “You want it don’t you? You have since the first day on set, or perhaps even before, yes?” He stroked a hand down Anakin’s chest, pinching a nipple and making Anakin’s hips jerk. 

“Yes,” Anakin gasped, his cock achingly hard. “I’m so sorry.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, his hand sliding down Anakin’s stomach to brush his fingers along the top of his jeans. “Your eyes were absolutely begging, Anakin. Begging me to notice you. Begging me to touch you.”

Anakin felt like his face was on fire, he was so embarrassed and aroused. He closed his fists on Obi-Wan’s soft shirt, holding him tight. Had he really been that obvious? 

Obi-Wan pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and stroked his cheekbone fondly, his other hand deftly opening his jeans. “I confess I did come to like the shade of pink you turned when I praised you, darling, but do you know what I liked even more?”

“What?” Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan stilled his hand, gently squeezing Anakin’s cock.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly, and Anakin’s cock throbbed and twitched in his hand, making him huff a laugh. He kissed Anakin’s cheek and then began to kiss down his neck, sucking too gently to bruise, hard enough to made Anakin moan. He answered the question in a low, intent murmur. “The beautiful flush on your cheeks when I scolded you—when I told you off for your impatience and poor time management, or your messy baking station. When you disappointed me. And now, when you’ve disappointed me so very much with your temper, haven’t you?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Anakin whined, overwhelmed by Obi-Wan’s attention. He’d wanted this so badly, how was it possible? He’d been such a disappointment, so bad, why was Obi-Wan even looking at him? Why was he touching him?

“There it is,” Obi-Wan said with fascination, rubbing Anakin’s burning cheek with his thumb. Anakin’s eyelashes fluttered, and Obi-Wan made a low noise of satisfaction. “There’s my boy.” 

Anakin inhaled sharply, his jaw dropping and eyes opening wide. He felt frozen and electrified. “Yours?”

“Aren’t you?” Obi-Wan asked, sounding so sure of the answer. “Haven’t you been?”

“But…” Anakin pushed Obi-Wan back and stepped away quickly, feeling completely overwhelmed. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to self-soothe. “I’m never going to see you again. I’m not coming back. You’re never going to see me again! I won’t be here!”

Obi-Wan lifted his hands in a soothing gesture, trying to pull him back. “Anakin, darling, relax.”

“But…” Anakin didn’t move, he was so confused. 

Obi-Wan sighed and turned to the desk, pulling over a pen and a small pad of paper. He scribbled something quickly, and then tore off the page, holding it out for Anakin to take. Anakin looked at him dumbly, and Obi-Wan shook his head. He held it out again. “I am attempting to give you my phone number, Anakin. You are going to get home, and call me.” 

“You’re…” Anakin frowned and snatched the paper out of his hand, looking down blankly at the string of digits and then back up at Obi-Wan’s face. “You’re going to… date me?”

Obi-Wan smirked for a moment, his eyes bright with humor. “That’s a word for it.”

Anakin swallowed, mouth feeling dry. “Really? You want to?”

“Yes.” 

“But… Why? You’re…” Anakin gestured vaguely up and down at Obi-Wan and then at himself. “I’m…”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and reached tentatively back toward Anakin, cupping his face and stroking his cheekbone. “You don’t know what you do to me, darling, what you’ve done. You always look like you’re only seconds away from dropping to your knees and offering me your mouth.”

Anakin laughed shakily, pushing his warm cheek into Obi-Wan’s hand affectionately. “You aren’t wrong.”

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him back. “It’s taken every ounce of my self-control to not steal you away and pull you into my trailer, fuck you over the couch, do you understand?”

Anakin whimpered as he felt himself begin to leak precome into his jeans at the idea, and let himself be pulled forward easily. “Would you..?” 

“I see no need to return to my trailer.”

Anakin gaped at him. “You want me?” Obi-Wan gave him a long-suffering look. Anakin clarified hastily. “Now? Here?”

In answer, Obi-Wan pushed down hard on his shoulders. Anakin dropped easily to his knees and looked up at Obi-Wan with wide eyes. Obi-Wan smiled down at him, petting his hair. 

Anakin shook his head in disbelief. He was on his knees for Obi-Wan. How many times had he dreamed of this? He quickly focused his attention on the visible outline of Obi-Wan’s long, thick cock in his slacks. Fuck. “Obi-Wan…”

“Yes, darling?”

Anakin hadn’t even noticed he was talking, his mouth felt so wet, he wanted so badly to suck on Obi-Wan’s huge cock. He was so much bigger than Anakin had guessed—he was going to choke on it. “Can I, please?”

“You may, yes,” Obi-Wan replied, just ever so slightly pedantic, enough to make Anakin’s heart race and cock throb. 

He quickly pulled Obi-Wan’s hard cock out, wrapping his hand around it and marveling at its thickness. “Slowly, Anakin.” He licked the tip in acknowledgment and looked up, making eye contact as he opened his mouth, relaxed his jaw, sticking out his tongue and waiting.

“Good,” Obi-Wan smiled and stroked his head, petting his hair, and then he pushed the head of his cock gently past Anakin’s lips and into his mouth. He exhaled hard as Anakin closed his lips around his length and sucked, his eyes fluttering shut. Obi-Wan made a negative sound. “Open your eyes.”

Anakin opened his eyes, looking up, his mouth full of cock. Obi-Wan hummed with satisfaction, and shifted his hips, rubbing his cock on Anakin’s tongue and sliding deeper inside, until he hit the back of his throat. Anakin choked, and Obi-Wan tugged on his hair, pulling him off. 

Anakin gasped, mouth open, feeling so exposed before Obi-Wan’s intent stare, “More?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmured, pulling Anakin’s head back toward his cock. “More. Very good, Anakin.”

Anakin blushed deeply, sucking Obi-Wan’s cock back into his mouth, letting it get slick with his spit before wrapping his hand around the base. He began stroking it in time with his mouth bobbing up and down, making Obi-Wan curse lowly and grab his hair, slowing him down. “Patience.”

Anakin whimpered, and let Obi-Wan guide him, trying to focus and remember every little part of what was happening—the feeling of soft carpet beneath his knees, the warm summer air, the scent of Obi-Wan’s soap and sweat, the taste of his precome on his tongue. The entire world, the past, the future, all fell away; all that was real was Obi-Wan’s cock, all that mattered was making Obi-Wan come. 

“So good for me, darling, such a good boy,” Obi-Wan was murmuring encouragement, his breathing fast and shallow. Anakin could tell he was getting close, and gently stroked his balls, feeling how they were tight against his body, his cock so very hard and thick in his mouth. “Don’t swallow,” Obi-Wan said abruptly, “show it to me first.”

Anakin hummed and sucked harder, his hand moving faster. His own cock was painfully hard, aching in his pants. Obi-Wan tightened his hold on his hair, holding him still, and then swore. “Fuck, Anakin, I’m…”

Anakin moaned in approval, and almost came at the taste of Obi-Wan spilling in his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut again, and Obi-Wan tugged on his hair, making him look up. His face was so tight and flushed with pleasure, his come was hot in Anakin’s mouth. Anakin had gotten Obi-Wan Kenobi to come in his mouth, he’d made him look like that, that was him. 

“Show me,” Obi-Wan repeated roughly, pulling his cock out of Anakin’s mouth and spilling the last of his come on Anakin’s lips. Anakin obediently showed him his tongue, and Obi-Wan smiled. “Good, now swallow it.”

Anakin closed his mouth and licked his lips, swallowing it all down. Obi-Wan pet his hair, looking at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. Anakin was so aroused, his cock was so hard, and Obi-Wan was looking at him like that. He couldn’t resist palming his cock, which made Obi-Wan smile and pull him up. “Let me, darling.”

“Yes,” Anakin said, gasping as Obi-Wan tugged his unfastened jeans and underwear down his thighs, freeing his cock completely. He pushed Anakin back against the desk, returning them to their original position. Anakin whined, “Please, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan pushed two fingers into Anakin’s mouth, swiping and getting them wet. Then he held his other hand up to his mouth and commanded, “Spit in my hand.”

Anakin blinked and then sucked as much saliva into his mouth as he could, spitting it carefully into Obi-Wan’s palm. Obi-Wan smiled at him warmly, his eyes full of approval. It was so perfect and unbelievable, was this really happening? How?

Obi-Wan wrapped his slick hand around Anakin’s cock, spreading his saliva and making it wet. The delicate, teasing touch made Anakin groan and buck his hips with frustration. “Please!”

“Patience,” Obi-Wan smiled again, his smiles were so easy, so wide, so warm. Post-orgasm was a good look for him. Pleasure looked so good on him. “I will make you come, darling, I promise. I want to watch you come very badly. I used to watch you growl at your bake and wonder what you would sound like coming apart beneath me.”

“Really?” Anakin moaned, and then gasped loudly as the fingers that Obi-Wan had swiped through his mouth slid behind his balls, the lightest possible exploratory touch against the sensitive skin around his entrance. Anakin whined and shifted his hips, overwhelmed with the pleasure of Obi-Wan’s strong, soft hand stroking his cock and his fingers teasing his ass. “Please, oh god, please, there!”

“Yes, Anakin, good,” Obi-Wan encouraged him, bending forward to suck gently on his neck. Not hard enough to bruise, but fuck, Anakin wished he would bite him, mark him, show him off. As if able to sense his thoughts, Obi-Wan moved lower, pushing aside his shirt and biting down hard on his shoulder, sucking hard. 

“Yes!” Anakin gasped, pushing his hips back into Obi-Wan’s hand, desperate for friction. Obi-Wan’s fingers circled his hole and then one pressed in, ever so slightly, sliding inside. “Oh!”

“Come for me,” Obi-Wan ordered, “come for me now, Anakin.”

Anakin bit his lip, and swallowed his groan as best he could. The strength of his orgasm was overwhelming, pleasure swamping his brain, his cock twitching and spilling come into Obi-Wan’s hand. The tension all released at once, he felt stupid with the pleasure of it. He looked vaguely at Obi-Wan’s face, and blinked rapidly as he saw Obi-Wan lick his come off his hand, cleaning himself up with his tongue. 

“Are you?” He asked loosely, eyes still caught on the way Obi-Wan was sucking his fingers clean. “No mess, I guess.”

The fingers popped out of Obi-Wan’s mouth and he laughed, pulling him in for a kiss, and Anakin could taste both of their come on his tongue. Obi-Wan pulled his head back and smiled. “You understand perfectly. No mess.”

Anakin smiled back, feeling almost drunk. Obi-Wan smirked and pulled up Anakin’s pants, waiting patiently until Anakin lifted his hips to help, letting Obi-Wan make him tidy and presentable again. He hummed with pleasure as Obi-Wan ran his hands through his curly hair, scratching his scalp. “This is never going to lie flat.”

“Correct,” Anakin laughed. “No point in trying.”

Obi-Wan stepped back and fixed himself too, until it was impossible to tell what they'd been doing. “The bake will be ending in half an hour, and then the judging will be filmed an hour after that. I have to go back to work now, as do you.”

Anakin felt himself pout, and Obi-Wan pushed on his bottom lip with his finger. “Remember, I am going to be performing my role as judge before the cameras. You are not presenting a showstopper. I will be harsh on you.”

“That’s okay,” Anakin blushed and evaded his eyes. “I like it.”

“Well, try not to like it too much.” Obi-Wan grinned at him. “We have enough footage of you flushing and eager for chastisement, Anakin.”

Anakin attempted to scowl, and failed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan kissed him one last time and turned to leave. “I will see you at the judging.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said, still feeling too blissful at the moment to do anything but sit and stare after him. “I’ll be there.”

It was growing late, and Padawan Kenobi was going over a mission report in his Master’s rooms. The familiar glow of a Coruscanti night was spilling in through the large windows, and it cast the room in a familiar kind of half-darkness. Obi-Wan had been sitting at the table long enough for the sun to set, but hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. 

He wasn’t working anyway. 

The scent of caf and machine oil lingered in the air, and was so viscerally associated with his Master, Obi-Wan could picture him perfectly—his perpetually messy tangle of hair, his wide, bright smile, so filthy in his work clothes. Master Anakin was so happy as he tinkered and improved droids or ships or anything with circuits. 

He was so beautiful. 

Obi-Wan knew his feelings were inappropriate—ever since Knight Skywalker, Qui-Gon’s first Padawan, had come to pick him up from the disaster that was Melida/Daan, he’d had an impossible crush on him. He’d been 13, a mess of hormones and confusion, and Anakin had been 29, he looked so young—so handsome, and so kind.

When Qui-Gon had initially refused to take him back as a Padawan, Anakin had been furious on his behalf. He’d gone to Master Yoda, and taken Qui-Gon’s place as Obi-Wan’s Master. Obi-Wan couldn’t describe the intensity of the feeling of relief and joy that he’d felt when he’d heard the news. Anakin had saved him in every way that mattered. 

Over the last decade, Master Anakin had been such a good teacher, and had quickly become his best friend. He’d given Obi-Wan his future back, supported him through every crisis, taught him everything he knew. He was reckless and emotional—and perfect. He was the best Master, so incredible and so unaware of it. 

Obi-Wan just wanted to make him happy, more than anything. He wanted to be good for him, and make him feel good—make him laugh and smile. He wanted to see Anakin’s eyes roll back in pleasure, and hear him moan Obi-Wan’s name. He wanted to know how his skin tasted, wanted to bite and mark him. His Master.

Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from the messy bed, half-visible through the open door to Anakin’s bedroom. He needed to meditate. He forcibly pulled himself back to his datapad, scrolling through what he’d written. It was always risky and distracting to work in Anakin’s rooms, but Anakin had requested they finish the mission report here this evening. 

Obi-Wan felt a familiar pang of guilt. He was deeply aware that his thoughts and feelings were inappropriate, and totally unfit for a Jedi. Master Anakin was so pure, so oblivious when people flirted with him on missions. It was like sex never even occured to him, like he never struggled with his desire. He was unattainable, impossible, perfect.

Obi-Wan huffed and refocused, making himself think back objectively on the end of their last mission, and not get stuck in memories of how Anakin had looked with his lightsaber—cutting down the security droids like he was dancing, the easy grace of his movements, his unbearably cocky and assured attitude as he fought. 

His Master was normally shy and slightly awkward, his voice incongruously soft and melodic, preferring time alone with his droids to socializing—but in combat he was so impossibly confident in his skills. He glowed in the Force, blooming into his true self, his best self. 

Obi-Wan wanted to suck his cock more than anything. 

Obi-Wan jumped as the door slid open, turning his head to see Anakin jog in, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and on his chest—so visible in the cursed Jedi-issued training tank tops. Obi-Wan hated Master Anakin’s gym clothes. He quickly pulled his presence in the Force behind his usual shields.

Anakin turned on the lights with a crooked smile, making Obi-Wan blink owlishly. “Why are you sitting in the dark, Obi-Wan?”

“You’re an hour late, Master.”

“I’m so sorry, Padawan mine.” Anakin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and then grimaced, coming to stand next to the table and looking down on what Obi-Wan was working on. “Windu wanted to kick my ass, and wouldn’t let me leave until he did.”

Obi-Wan laughed fondly, wishing he could have watched. “It’s fine, Master. I’m almost done.”

“Great,” Anakin sighed and looked down at himself. “Let me go change. I’ll be right back.”

Obi-Wan shrugged and watched despite himself as Anakin walked past him to the ‘fresher, the curve of his ass drawing his eyes like a magnet. He cursed himself and refocused. He needed to stop.

He stared blankly at the datapad in his hands as he heard the shower turn on, and tried as hard as he could to think about something, anything else, and not imagine it—his Master was naked in the other room, so close, the water running down his strong chest, his hand rubbing soap on his stomach and cock, his long legs and strong thighs. Fuck.

Obi-Wan thumbed off his datapad and dropped it on the table, giving up. He rubbed his temples, focusing on his presence in the Force, reinforcing all the shields that kept his secret safe from the otherwise intoxicatingly strong bond with his Master. He could feel Anakin’s quiet satisfaction, the pleasure of being exhausted and relaxed.

Obi-Wan was not relaxed, and it definitely did not help when Anakin came back into the combination kitchen and dining room wearing the lounge clothes he usually slept in. Obi-Wan wanted to groan with frustration—the only thing worse than Master Anakin’s gym clothes were the loose grey sweatpants and soft shirt he wore around his rooms. 

Anakin’s skin was flushed from the shower, his hair damp. Obi-Wan knew that if he looked, he would be able to see the outline of his cock in his soft pants, and he consciously did not do so. Why bother, when he could see it crystal clear every time he closed his eyes? He swallowed and completely locked down his Force presence.

Anakin frowned at him from across the room, aware that Obi-Wan was unusually quiet in the Force— of course he was, after a decade, he knew Obi-Wan better than anyone, probably better than he knew himself. He knew everything, except the biggest thing. He grabbed a can of juice from his small conservator and dropped heavily in the seat next to Obi-Wan, popping the top with a curious look. “What do we have left?”

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin chugged the juice, his throat moving as he swallowed, his long neck extended. Calm down. He pushed the datapad in front of Anakin and turned it on. “Just your analysis for the outcome summary, Master.”

“Oh, fun.” Anakin wrinkled his nose, and it was cute.

Obi-Wan gave up entirely. “I can leave it and come get it tomorrow. In fact, that’s what I’ll do.” He pushed his chair back and stood up, straightening his tunic. 

Anakin looked up at him with wide eyes. “Wait… you don’t have to go.”

“I should,” Obi-Wan smiled tightly, and looked at the door. “Have a good evening, Master.”

“Why?” Anakin sounded frustrated, and he set his drink down hard. “What’s up with you? You’re completely closed off in the Force. Even more than usual.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, and stepped back. “I suppose I am. Sorry, Master.” 

“Why?”

“I’ve had a long day.”

“You don’t have to go. You can tell me about it. I just got here.” Anakin sounded petulant, and grabbed Obi-Wan’s elbow as he moved by, catching him before he could move past him toward the door. “Why are you never open to the bond?”

It was a familiar argument, and Obi-Wan had run out of excuses about five years ago. He was so tired of this, tired of hiding, tired of running away—but he couldn’t stay. He tugged against Anakin’s grip, heat rushing to his cheeks as Anakin held on tighter. “For a reason, Master.”

“Why?”

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked away, feeling cornered. “I don’t want to share everything. My feelings are often inappropriate for a Jedi.”

Anakin scoffed, and he squeezed Obi-Wan’s arm slightly in rebuke. “And mine aren’t?”

“Not in the same way.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said slowly, lingering on the vowels, turning his name into an endearment. “Tell me.”

The husky sound of Anakin’s voice went through Obi-Wan like a spike, making his cock throb. He pulled his elbow with more force, freeing himself. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Anakin looked so frustrated, so hurt. “Obi-Wan—”

Obi-Wan snapped. “Don’t say my name like that!”

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked, looking up at him, baffled and annoyed. “What is going on with you? Is it the Trials? Are you angry with me? It’s not my fault that the Council hasn’t scheduled them.”

“I know!” Obi-Wan exhaled hard, and ran a hand down his face, trying to keep himself together. “It’s not the Trials. I’m not angry with you.”

“Then stay and help me with this,” Anakin said, shaking the datapad at Obi-Wan. His presence in the Force reached out, stroking against the edge of Obi-Wan’s consciousness. “Stay.”

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, his cock throbbing again. It felt so good when they were tangled together in the Force, he wanted to give in, disappear inside his Master forever. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Anakin asked innocently, and it drove Obi-Wan insane how oblivious he was. How could he possibly miss what was happening? How could he not understand?

“Master,” Obi-Wan said, and dropped his shoulders, defeated. He was so tired of lying. “You have to know what’s bothering me… Everyone in the Temple knows. How has nobody told you?”

“Told me what?” Anakin’s face was growing stormy as he realized other people knew the secret that Obi-Wan had kept from him for so long. “Obi-Wan, I swear to the Force, you are going to explain—”

Obi-Wan groaned with frustration and dropped the walls around his mind entirely, spreading his arms and laughing out a challenge. “This, Master!”

Anakin froze, and Obi-Wan could feel him reaching out with the Force, testing and probing at the tangled knot inside Obi-Wan. “What is that feeling?”

“You don’t even recognize it?” Obi-Wan laughed again, slightly hysterical. “You’re impossible! You look at me like… that, and I know you care about me, so much, but not in the same way. I know you’re not attracted to me.”

“Obi-Wan, that’s not…” Anakin’s eyes were growing wider, but he still looked so confused, and it made Obi-Wan’s chest ache. “That’s not true.”

“Don’t patronize me! Unlike me, you’re always open to the bond. You’ve never felt anything like what you make me feel.”

“And how is that?”

Obi-Wan shook his head sharply, taking a step back. “I feel sick with it.” 

“Sick with what?”

“Don’t be dense, Master.” Obi-Wan put his face in his hands for a moment, fighting an urge to scream. “This is mortifying. I’m leaving.”

“Why? Why can’t you just talk to me? I’m your Master, I’m here for you. I’m not judging you.” 

Obi-Wan dropped his hands, and reluctantly made eye contact with Anakin again. He felt a rush of acceptance and fondness in the Force, Anakin giving him an intangible hug. It made it easier to tell the truth. “I… I want you, Master, more than anything. I ache with it. It hurts.” 

“Obi-Wan–”

“I’ll just go, Master. I’ll deal with it.”

“Deal with it, how?” Anakin frowned. 

 Obi-Wan shrugged helplessly. “How I always do.”

“Which is?”

“I…” Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “I go out, find someone.”

Anakin’s voice took on a dangerous edge. “Someone?”

“Yes, someone.”

Obi-Wan’s mind slid through years of memories in an instant, all the time spent searching for someone, anyone, like him, all the hours in loud, dark clubs looking for an older man with broad shoulders, tan skin, messy curls, or pouting lips. Nobody was exactly right, nobody was Anakin, but it helped to pretend for even a moment. 

It wasn’t really enough to fuck a stranger against the wall, to turn him around and hold his curly hair, thrust in his cock into slick heat, and pretend. It wasn’t enough to get his cock sucked by someone with Anakin’s plush, pink lips, to close his eyes, and pretend. Not enough to let an older man with broad shoulders and strong arms take him home for the night — none of it was right.

But it was all he had. It had to be enough. Until he could get over this unhealthy fixation.  

Anakin frowned deeply, his presence in the Force clouding with anger-hurt-frustration. With the bond open, he had probably gotten a skim of his thoughts. Obi-Wan tried to pull back and close him out, so embarrassed. “Sorry!”

Anakin protested when he withdrew from the bond. “Obi-Wan, I don’t—”

“I know!”

“Listen to me,” Anakin scowled. “Don’t interrupt.”

“What, Master?”

“I don’t like that you do that. Don’t do it anymore.” 

Obi-Wan exhaled hard. “And what do you want me to do instead?”

Anakin grit his teeth, his fists clenching and releasing. “I don’t know.”

“Then what? Meditation doesn’t work. Nothing works. C’mon, Master, enlighten me,” Obi-Wan said, strangled, and Anakin just shook his head. “What, Master? What should I do?”

Anakin’s frustration melted into vulnerability, his voice softening, posture cringing slightly. “Obi-Wan, I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathed, studying Anakin’s face intently. He stepped closer, looking down at him—how he was blushing, blinking up at him with his long eyelashes, eyes full of something that could have been a please.

“Oh, Master, can I? Can I, please?”

“Please what?” Anakin swallowed thickly, his throat moving with it. Obi-Wan wanted to bite it. 

“Let me touch you, Master.” 

Anakin bit his bottom lip, and Obi-Wan ran his fingers lightly over his cheekbone, pushing his hand into his hair and tightening his grip, tugging him up. The way that Anakin relaxed into his hold, letting him pull him up closer, made Obi-Wan’s cock ache. “Kriff, Master, please, let me.”

Anakin blinked up at him, and his pupils were dilated, and Obi-Wan couldn’t wait longer. He bent forward and kissed him—the soft pressure of Anakin’s lips against his was so perfect, the fresh scent of his skin was intoxicating. Obi-Wan whimpered and tilted his head to the side, kissing him harder. Finally.

Somehow, impossibly, Anakin began to return the kiss, hesitantly for a moment, and then with more force. Obi-Wan sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it and pulling back, letting it slide out between his teeth. Anakin’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was fast and shallow. He was so beautiful.

Without thinking, Obi-Wan slid into his lap, straddling him like he’d always wanted to, rolling his hips down against Anakin’s, and began fervently kissing down his neck.

Anakin gasped and tipped his head back as Obi-Wan sucked harder, biting down where his neck met his shoulder. He moaned, “Obi-Wan.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan said against his neck, sliding his hands under the soft fabric of Anakin’s shirt, feeling the soft skin of his back. “Please, can I?”

Anakin leaned forward slightly, letting Obi-Wan pull off his shirt and drop it on the floor. His hands dropped to hold Obi-Wan’s thighs, thumbs stroking circles, and Obi-Wan groaned at the pressure. He let his eyes slide from Anakin’s long neck, down his strong pectorals, to his abs, and the light trail of hair leading down into his sweatpants. He bent forward, biting gently and then sucking on Anakin’s right nipple, his fingers stroking and pinching the left, worshiping his chest, like he’d wanted to for so long.

Anakin moaned and shifted, their hips rolling together and they both made low noises of appreciation when the movement rubbed their cocks together. Anakin was rapidly getting hard, and so Obi-Wan did it again, on purpose, dragging and pressing his cock against Anakin’s, and he switched his mouth to the other side of his chest, sucking a row of marks along his collarbone.

Anakin groaned and wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan’s Padawan braid. Obi-Wan whined when he pulled him off his chest, tugging him up and kissing him again, licking into his mouth. His grip on his thighs tightened, crushing him against his chest. The Force was bubbling and eddying with Anakin’s pleasure, and Obi-Wan felt very close to coming from that alone.

“Bed?” Obi-Wan asked against his lips, rolling his hips again. “Please?”

Anakin murmured, “Hold onto me.”

“Wait, what?” Obi-Wan asked, and inhaled sharply with surprise as Anakin picked him up. He wrapped his arms around Anakin’s neck, his thighs tightening around his hips. “This isn’t what I meant.”

“Are you complaining, Padawan?” Anakin huffed a laugh, carrying his weight easily as he walked toward his bedroom. “I can drop you, if you’d like.”

“No, Master,” Obi-Wan kissed his neck and murmured in his ear. “This is fine.”

“Good,” Anakin said, and set him gently on his bed, looking down at him with satisfaction—both on his face and curling around them both in the Force. He watched intently as Obi-Wan pulled off his own shirt, and then he crawled between Obi-Wan’s spread legs, pushing him down against the pillows.

Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin in something like disbelief at his proximity, the surreality of the moment striking him. He never thought this was possible. His heart was racing and his breathing so rapid and shallow, his skin tingling as Anakin slid a hand down his bare chest to the top of his pants, his fingertips disappearing beneath the waistband and tentatively brushing his cock. 

Obi-Wan whimpered, his hips rocking involuntarily, pleasure spiking through him at the contact. “Master!”

Anakin looked up, pupils blown. “I like that.” 

“What? When I say Master?”

“Yes.” His fingers trailed lower, wrapping around Obi-Wan’s cock and squeezing gently. “Say my name.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan moaned.  

Anakin had the audacity to smile at him, his eyes crinkling. “Very good, Padawan.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped, trying to keep his hips still. His face felt so hot. “Oh, Force.”

“Oh, you like that.” The mischievous glint came into Anakin’s eyes, and Obi-Wan felt lost in them. “You’ve always wanted to be so good for me, haven’t you?”

Obi-Wan bit his lip as Anakin’s hand squeezed gently on the head of his cock. “Yes, Master.” 

“Such a good little Padawan.”

“Master…”

Anakin pulled his hand back, and tipped his head to the side. “What happens next, Obi-Wan? What do you want?”

Obi-Wan took Anakin’s moment of indecision to roll them over, and smiled down at him. “I have an idea.” He scooted back down the bed, and slid his fingers under the waist of Anakin’s sweatpants. “Please?”

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, lifting his hips without hesitation.

Obi-Wan pulled off his pants, tossing them aside, and made a low noise as Anakin’s hard cock was freed— so long, thick, and flushed. He ran trembling fingers up the length, fingertips following the vein underneath to the head.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan looked up, and made eye contact. “Let me make you feel good, Master. Let me.”

Anakin nodded, and his eyes widened as Obi-Wan bent down. He groaned loudly when Obi-Wan licked the tip of his cock. Obi-Wan moaned at the taste, and sucked the head into his mouth.

“Fuck…” Anakin whimpered, and Obi-Wan looked back up, mouth full of cock, and saw Anakin staring at him with something like wonder. “That feels so good, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered closed at the praise, and he used one hand to grasp the base of Anakin’s cock, and lowered his head, taking more into his mouth. Anakin’s hips jerked up, thrusting his cock in deeper, making Obi-Wan choke.

“Sorry!”  Anakin gasped. “I haven’t done this before.” 

“I know,” Obi-Wan laughed shakily. How had he never done this before? How? He grabbed Anakin’s hips, holding him still, and swallowed down his cock, taking it as deep as he could, pressing down on the hard length with his lips, and then pulled his head back up, sucking gently. 

Anakin’s head fell back against the pillow, and he groaned. The sound made Obi-Wan’s cock throb, his own precome beginning to spill in his pants. He could feel Anakin in the Force, the bright glowing supernova that he was, his attention was focused so intensely on Obi-Wan. All he’d ever wanted was Anakin’s attention.

He pulled off to breathe, and Anakin tugged him up by the Padawan braid, kissing him deeply. His other hand slid to wrap around Obi-Wan’s cock in his pants again. “So hard… you like sucking my cock, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan whined. “Yes, Master.”

“What else do you want?”

“Oh, Master. Anything, everything. You’ve never..?” 

“Why would I? I’ve never wanted to be with anyone but you, and I didn’t think this was a thing we did.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan moaned. Incredible, impossible. He shook his head, refocusing. “You should top this time, see how you like it.”

“Top?” Anakin said, as if it were a foreign language.

Obi-Wan sighed, smiling fondly. “You should fuck me.”

“Oh,” Anakin’s eyes went wide, his cheeks flushing impossibly darker. “I know people do that but… I don’t know how.”

“Kriff, Master, don’t you watch porn on the Holonet?”

Anakin made a face like he’d said something unpleasant. “I don’t know those people. Why would I want to see that?”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re impossible.” Obi-Wan kissed him again and then pulled back. “Do you have bacta?”

Anakin looked concerned. “Yes, why?”

“In the ‘fresher?”

“Yes, why? Are you hurt?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Bacta has many uses, Master. Stay here.”

Obi-Wan slid off the bed, hurrying to the cabinet in the small ‘fresher, pulling out the bacta from the small medkit. He came back into the room, giving the half-full bottle a knowing glare. “You hurt yourself too much, Master.”

“What can I say,” Anakin laughed, a hand rubbing his cock absently, eyes devouring Obi-Wan as he came back. “It’s a talent.” 

Obi-Wan stepped out of his pants. “I’m going to prepare myself now.”

Anakin spoke slowly, as though he were figuring out a bit of difficult mental math. “So I can fuck you. Because you need to be prepared first.”

“Yes, Master, you get it,” Obi-Wan laughed. He crawled up the bed to kiss Anakin gently for a moment, and then sat back. He dispensed some of the slick, sweet smelling substance on his fingers and then dropped the bottle, reaching between his legs and pressing his fingers against his entrance. 

Anakin watched Obi-Wan’s fingers slide inside, his eyes so dark, his jaw dropped slightly as he breathed hard, his cheeks flushed red. Obi-Wan could feel his incredulous desire in the Force, and began to rush through the process of opening himself up, his experience with this making it much faster and easier than trying to open Anakin up, he was sure. He curled his fingers slightly, pressing against his prostate, and moaned, cock jerking slightly. 

Anakin’s voice was rough. “Can I do that?”

“What?”

“Prepare means fingering yourself open for me?”

“Yes.”

“I can do that.” Anakin grabbed the bacta, opening the cap. “Come here, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan moaned unhappily, sliding his fingers out. He moved up the bed, and Anakin rolled them back over, pulling Obi-Wan’s legs apart and looking with fascination at the bacta-slick, pink skin of his hole. “So pretty.”

“What?”

“You’re pretty, Obi-Wan. I’ve always thought so.”

Obi-Wan groaned. “I swear to the Force if you do not put your fingers inside me, I—”

Anakin slid one finger in, shutting him up. “Like that?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan gasped.

Anakin began tentatively fucking him with the finger, making Obi-Wan moan. “More, Master.”

“You’re so warm and soft,” Anakin murmured, pulling out and dispensing more bacta on his fingers.

“Please, Master, please.”

Anakin slid in two fingers gently. “There you go, sweetheart, you like that?”

“Anakin—”

Anakin began fucking his fingers in and out more quickly, and then curled his fingers experimentally, stroking and making Obi-Wan’s back arch and cock jerk. “There?”

“Yes, Force, there.”

Anakin pulled his legs open wider, and spread his fingers. “Is my cock really going to fit here? You’re so tight.”

“Yes, I promise, Master, please. I’m ready, I promise.” 

Anakin gave him a dubious look. “If you say so, Padawan.” He poured some bacta on his cock, and then leaned forward, kissing Obi-Wan and sucking hard on his bottom lip.

Obi-Wan whined and rocked his hips, opening his legs wider, inviting him closer. Anakin obeyed the nonverbal instruction, and pressed the head of his cock against his slick hole. He pulled his head back, watching Obi-Wan’s face intensely. 

Obi-Wan struggled to keep his eyes open as Anakin rocked his hips forward, pushing the head of his cock in past the tight muscle. It was so much, just right. Anakin’s gaze was so focused, like he was piloting a ship through enemy fire.

“That good?” Anakin whispered. He thrust his hips forward more, sinking his cock deeper. “Like that, Padawan?”

Obi-Wan nodded quickly, his hands jumping to Anakin’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “Fuck me, Master.”

Anakin kissed him again, tentatively pulling his hips back and then rocking forward harder, fucking his cock in deeper. He groaned. “You’re so perfect, Obi-Wan.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan whimpered, overwhelmed by the praise, by Anakin’s cock so deep inside, by the warmth of their shared need in the Force. 

“Yes, Padawan.” Anakin exhaled hard, and settled quickly into a steady, slow rhythm, cock sliding in deeper and deeper each time until he was completely buried inside. “I didn’t know it felt like this. I wondered, but I didn’t think—”

Obi-Wan tugged him down, chest to chest, and wrapped his arms around his neck. He kissed him messily, wanting Anakin’s tongue in his mouth. His cock was trapped between them, and the teasing friction pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

Anakin’s presence in the Force was overwhelming, and Obi-Wan reached back in the bond, tangling them together there too. He felt completely consumed and surrounded by Anakin, Anakin was so deep inside him. 

It was perfect, everything he’d ever wanted, ever needed.  

Anakin slid his hands under Obi-Wan’s thighs and pushed them up and out, pinning him down and spreading him wide. His hips began to move faster, fucking him harder.

“Yes, Master. Yes!”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, the low, melodic sound of his voice turning into a rasp. His eyes were so full of emotion. “I’m sorry, I’m close.”

“So am I, Master, I’m close too.”

“What do you need?”

“Just fuck me, Master, fuck me harder.”

Anakin nodded seriously, and pulled back to his knees, holding Obi-Wan up by the hips, and began to snap his hips forward, seeking the spot he’d found so easily with his fingers, stroking his cock along the sensitive nerves.

“Fuck,” Obi-Wan whimpered, hands grabbing the sheets. “You picked that up fast. How are you so good at everything?”

“Am I?” Anakin said roughly, his hips thrusting faster, and the sound of skin slapping filled the room. 

“Master!” Obi-Wan’s hand eventually jumped to his cock, unable to keep off it. “So good.” 

“I’m going to come inside you, Obi-Wan, do you want that? Can I?”

“Fuck, yes,” Obi-Wan groaned, and one more twist of his wrist around the head of his cock made him tip over the edge, his hand filling and dripping come onto his stomach. His vision filled with stars as pleasure rolled through his brain, the release overwhelming.  

Anakin made a deep approving noise, thrusting his hips hard one last time. He came, tipping his head forward and groaning. Obi-Wan watched with fascination as Anakin’s face tightened, his orgasm turning incandescent in the Force.

After a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, Anakin exhaled hard and slumped forward, catching himself on his hand above Obi-Wan. He opened his eyes again, his expression soft and open. Obi-Wan squirmed slightly and Anakin pulled out, looking down at how his come slid out after.

“Master,” Obi-Wan said tentatively. 

Anakin’s eyes snapped back to his, concerned. “Yes?”

Obi-Wan smiled, feeling shy. “Thank you.”

Anakin smiled back, and then fell to the side beside him with a thump. He pulled Obi-Wan onto his chest, squeezing him tight. “My little Padawan. Did everyone else really know you wanted me?”

“I’m not the only one, Anakin. Half the Temple wants to fuck you.” Obi-Wan sighed happily, letting himself dissolve for a moment in Anakin. “We’re sticky.”

“True,” Anakin said, unconcerned. 

“We need to get clean.” 

“Hmmm, just one more minute.”

“Ok, Master. Anything you want.”

Anakin kissed his forehead and held him tighter. “Just want you.” 

Everybody knew that Prince Anakin had been born a bastard, but only some of them cared.

Most people in the kingdom of Galactica were just glad that the king finally had an heir to the throne. It had been a long awaited event—King Sheev was getting old, and while any discussion of his death was treasonable, people always found a way to gossip and play for power. 

It had been an open secret at court for years that the lack of children was because of Sheev, and not any of his wives, past or present. Couldn’t keep it up, nobles and servants alike all said in whispers and behind closed doors, snickering quietly. Years of scandalous queen swapping had still resulted in zero issue.

Nobody knew what dark sorcery led to a child, let alone why it was a servant woman who carried him instead of Sheev’s fourth wife, but they knew better than to ask questions. He’d been kept a secret as long as possible, until it was clear that there would be no legitimate children. The revelation of his existence had dashed the hopes of many.  

Shmi had loved her son very much despite not knowing whence he came, and had doted on him until the day that she’d disappeared—the day that Anakin had been legitimized as the Duke of Vader, the title of an heir presumptive to the throne, and taken to live according to his station. Nobody knew where Shmi had gone, and nobody cared. 

The prince cared, Obi-Wan assumed, but he certainly never spoke of her.

Anakin had been ten when he left his mother, and with his legitimization everyone had begun to treat him with special attention—flattering his ego, attempting to gain early favor with a potential future monarch. The other noble boys had been encouraged by their families to befriend him, and he’d been surrounded by sycophants who treated him like some kind of Chosen One. 

The flattery had become even worse in the last few months; Anakin had been named the Prince of Coruscant at age nineteen, officially becoming the heir apparent. His ego had only grown with the addition of a new title. It didn’t help that he was immensely gifted at warfare, swordplay and jousting alike. He was young, handsome, rich, and talented, and surrounded by flatterers and idiots. 

Obi-Wan knew that it all had done absolutely nothing good for his behavior, and it frustrated him all the more to know that he hadn’t always been this way —he remembered meeting the prince back when he was still just Anakin, just a cheerful boy being raised among other servants’ children. 

He only remembered because Anakin had been all eager smiles, innocence, and charm. He’d doggedly followed around Obi-Wan, still only a squire himself, asking him so many questions, trying to borrow his sword, and begging to ride his horse. He’d talked fast and loud about how much he wanted to be a knight someday. 

It had been very cute, when he wasn’t completely underfoot, and Obi-Wan had promised that he’d try to get him placed in training to become a palace guard. Anakin had wrinkled his nose at the idea, but he’d been a servant’s son with big, impossible dreams. Obi-Wan had been called away with Sir Qui-Gon to defend the border, and that was that.

Years passed, and Obi-Wan had very little reason to think about Coruscant, politics, and the foibles of the aristocracy. Sir Qui-Gon was killed, and Obi-Wan became a knight, his days filled with his duties to the crown. His reputation must have made it back to the king somehow, or perhaps to the Privy Council, as his summons back to Coruscant had been signed by both Duke Windu and Archbishop Yoda. 

It seemed that there had been at least four assassination attempts since Anakin’s elevation. The prince had enemies both inside and outside the kingdom, and he did not take the threats seriously. He acted in a manner unbefitting his station. Obi-Wan was considered virtuous and responsible, and had been thus recalled to act as a mentor for the troublesome youth.

Mentor in name, babysitter in reality, Obi-Wan thought, only slightly resentful. 

He had not been particularly happy about his new orders. It wasn’t as though he had loved keeping the borders secure from periodic incursions from the Mandalorians in the west, but it had felt good to serve his kingdom and keep the peace. Being put in charge of a spoiled, arrogant, irresponsible, hot-tempered nuisance of a prince felt much less dignified.

Anakin tested and taunted him, routinely sneaking away from his guards, refusing to remain safe in the palace. Obi-Wan was reaching the limit of his patience with him. He didn’t know what would happen when Anakin went too far, but he had several elaborate fantasies about making him listen and apologize that he regularly reminded himself not to think about.

Wanting to fuck his bratty mouth or bend him over his knee and spank him until he cried was hardly befitting of his own station.

Obi-Wan was currently reminding himself about the tenets of his Jedi faith, trying vainly to think about Yoda’s sermons on patience. He was leaning back against the wall of a dark, stuffy tavern, staying near the door, his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face. It hadn’t taken long to find Anakin in the lower city, almost like he wanted to be found.

Despite that, Anakin was studiously ignoring him, his cheeks flushed slightly pink from drinking and carousing with a rowdy group. He’d made lingering eye contact with Obi-Wan when Obi-Wan entered, his expression growing sullen, and then turned his head away, intently and deliberately rejoining the conversation at his table, throwing darts and laughing loudly. 

He was supposed to be at court for a feast in honor of his step-mother’s birthday, but hadn’t shown up. Obi-Wan had been forced to go and find him among the assorted scum and villainy. He wasn’t even surprised at this point—Anakin had never been particularly respectful of the queen, but she wasn’t an exception. Anakin lacked respect for almost everyone at court. 

He thought politics was beneath him, and that everyone should just listen to the king and follow orders. He spent his time evading his responsibilities as heir to the throne, instead endlessly training and preparing to fight in tournaments. As a result, his shoulders were broad, his arms strong, and he walked with the confidence of someone who knew that they were dangerous. 

His cocky swagger made Obi-Wan want to throw him down into the dirt, disarm and defeat him, just to teach him a lesson about arrogance. They trained together frequently, and Obi-Wan enjoyed the privilege of getting to do so. Anakin was good, but Obi-Wan matched him, if not surpassed him—his skills having been honed in actual combat as opposed to the artificial setting of tournaments. 

Anakin had been showing off jousting earlier, and Obi-Wan had taken great pleasure in unseating him from his horse, fighting him on the ground until they lost their swords, and then wrestling him down to the dirt, making him yield. Anakin had snarled and struggled, but he had yielded in the end, going limp under Obi-Wan’s hold.

Obi-Wan’s gaze sharpened as the tone of the shouting in the corner transitioned from friendly to something more argumentative. Anakin’s group had come into conflict with the next table over, more rowdy young men flush with alcohol. One of them stood up, swaggering over, his mouth moving with a pointed sneer, pointing with his half-full tankard. 

Phenomenal, Obi-Wan thought, another bar fight. 

He saw the drunk man’s lips shape the word ‘mother’ and pushed off the wall, knowing exactly what would happen next. Anakin launched himself forward, his friends roaring and joining in immediately. The fight spread like dry tinder catching flame—as usual, it had only taken the slightest spark to escalate into violence.

Obi-Wan wove between fighting men, trying not to hurt any of them more than was necessary to get them out of his way. He elbowed one of Anakin’s friends to the side, and with some difficulty grabbed Anakin by the back of the tunic. He pitched his voice to register over the crashes and shouts. “Time to go.”

Anakin twisted out of his grip, ignoring him, his focus unwavering from the man in front of him, arms up in a boxing posture. “Take it back!”

The man spat blood, and swung an arm in a sloppy punch that Anakin easily evaded, advancing for another blow of his own. Obi-Wan darted forward and caught him around the waist, and pulled him back, dragging him away. Anakin tried to squirm out of his hold, but he was at least tipsy, if not drunk, and Obi-Wan just tightened his arm.

“Let me go!” Anakin protested loudly. “He said my—”

“I don’t care!” Obi-Wan cut him off, tugging him toward the door. Anakin intentionally slowed his feet, dragging them and trying again to get back at the brawl, and Obi-Wan picked him up and threw him over his shoulder, carrying him out of the tavern instead. 

“Put me down!” Anakin hissed, indignant and dismissive, attempting to wiggle his way out of Obi-Wan’s firm hold. “How dare you, you have no right to—”

Obi-Wan swatted him once, hard, where his thigh met his ass, and Anakin abruptly shut up, going limp over his shoulder. The noise dropped as the door swung shut behind them and they stepped out into the street. The moon was bright, and Obi-Wan appreciated the light as he began walking them back to the palace.

Anakin began squirming again, and Obi-Wan dropped him. Anakin huffed as he landed on his feet, his offended expression easy to read despite the shadows. “How dare you?”

“How dare you?” Obi-Wan said in reply, matching his tone and grabbing his arm, beginning to march them back toward the palace. He wanted to get back inside the walls as quickly as possible. There had been reports of Mandalorians in the city, and they had no love for the crown. 

“I can do what I like,” Anakin pouted, the slightest slur to his words and weave to his step was indication that he was probably drunker than Obi-Wan had thought. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“You’ll find that I can, actually,” Obi-Wan replied, dry and pointed, pulling him inexorably forward. “You had instructions to attend the feast. I let you out of my sight for ten minutes to change.”

“Fuck my instructions,” Anakin said, mimicking Obi-Wan’s accent on the last word. He’d never quite picked up the refined way of speaking of the upper classes. Obi-Wan assumed it was an intentional remnant of his childhood. He stopped moving so abruptly that he almost escaped Obi-Wan’s hold on his arm. “No!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, seeking patience. He turned back to look at Anakin’s flushed face, his pouting and defiant expression. “No, what?”

“No,” Anakin shook his head haughtily, and tried to yank his arm away. “I’m not going back yet.” 

Obi-Wan looked up and down the mostly deserted street, trying to maintain some semblance of situational awareness. The lower city at night was not a safe place to be. “Yes, you are.”

“No!” Anakin yanked harder, and actually managed to free himself. He stumbled back, and scrambled for the dagger he kept in his belt. “You’ll have to make me!”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I have to pick you up again?” 

“You can try!” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in tones of deepest disappointment, looking impassively at Anakin's fighting stance and raised blade. “What are you doing?” 

“Fight me!” Anakin jabbed at him, and Obi-Wan easily stepped to the side. 

“I threw you on the ground not four hours ago. Do you need a repeat of that?” 

Anakin attacked again, his tipsiness making him telegraph his moves to an almost comic degree. “Coward, fight me!”

Obi-Wan didn’t appreciate being called a coward, no matter how drunk and stupid the person doing it. Quick as lightning, he grabbed Anakin’s wrist, forcing him to drop his blade into his waiting hand, and then twisted him around, shoving him forward against a wall, pressing him hard against the surface with his own bent arm.  

Anakin grunted at the impact, and Obi-Wan pushed him with more force against the wall. He was breathing harder, heart racing, his frustration with Anakin’s behavior pushing the limits of his tolerance. “Do not call me that.”

Anakin huffed, and opened his mouth to reply, when Obi-Wan froze. He heard the faintest sound of a blade being removed from a sheath, and the clink of armor, from around the corner of the alley. He made a quick calculation of probabilities, and swore under his breath, regretting bitterly that he was wearing simple clothes as a disguise. He should have come fully armed.

He slipped Anakin’s knife back into his hand and whispered, “Assassins.”

“I heard,” Anakin breathed, sounding much more sober than he had a minute before.

Between heartbeats, the street went from stillness to chaos as the men attacked them. Without needing to make a plan, they fell into perfect step—Obi-Wan spinning and drawing his own knife to protect Anakin from the threat, fighting back to back. There were four of them, all in ratty armor but with good quality steel. 

Despite the fact that they were outnumbered and had inferior weapons, the fight still went quickly and easily, as both of them were orders of magnitude better trained and better practiced than the mercenaries. It was like a dance, adrenaline washing through Obi-Wan, the familiar rush of combat taking over. 

He was glad to sense that Anakin’s drunkenness had disappeared beneath his training, swiftly disarming an enemy and stealing his sword, quick and brutal with the blade, but still—Obi-Wan was filled with a fierce need to protect him, to eliminate any and all threats to the prince as quickly as possible. He had allowed Anakin to face this risk with his negligence, and he would not allow him to be harmed or die under his watch. 

It took another fraught and bloody minute, but soon enough Obi-Wan was standing in a silent street with Anakin, breathing hard. He heard Anakin laugh behind him, apparently delighted at the fight. Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger burning on top of his adrenaline, and turned sharply to glare at him. To the prince this all seemed like a game, maybe, just another bout at a tournament. 

Obi-Wan was not laughing. 

He saw a dark stain on Anakin’s left arm, the blood dark in the moonlight, spreading and soaking the pale fabric of his tunic. Obi-Wan moved forward, grabbing the arm to look at the injury. Anakin stopped laughing, hissing with pain when Obi-Wan moved him. “Hey—”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a furious look, and then sighed with relief, a small knot of tension in his stomach releasing. As far as he could tell, the cut was deep enough to possibly need stitches, but not deep enough to be dangerous. He dropped Anakin’s arm, and pushed him back. “Congratulations, Your Highness. You’ve put your life at risk for no reason. Again.”

“But you were here to protect me.” Anakin said coyly, fluttering his eyelashes like he was trying to flirt his way out of trouble, and Obi-Wan was too angry to even address that. He was still drunk, then.

“And what if I hadn’t been?” 

“I would have been fine,” Anakin huffed, breaking eye contact and looking down at the sword he’d stolen. He was trying to make out the details in the dark, searching for a maker’s mark. “I could take them in my sleep.”

His dismissive tone made Obi-Wan step forward and grab him tightly by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes again. “Listen to me. This ends now. No more of these little trips. You are done.” He removed the sword from Anakin’s loose grip and dropped it to the ground with a clatter.

Anakin’s lower lip jutted out, and he tried to pull away; Obi-Wan squeezed his hand tighter and pushed him two steps forward until his back hit the wall. Anakin exhaled hard on impact, his pout only increasing, face flushed so pink. He protested, his voice low, breathy, and bratty. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Obi-Wan grit his teeth, resisting the urge to slide the hand holding Anakin’s chin down to hold his throat—to squeeze and choke him. He released him instead, poking a finger hard into his chest. “If you don’t care to listen to me, then you will listen to your father. You have a duty to the kingdom that—”

The words appeared to activate some feral pocket of energy and Anakin shoved at him, trying vainly to push him back. “I don’t want it. I never wanted it.”

“What?” Obi-Wan caught his flailing wrists and squeezed hard, until Anakin went still. “You are the prince, you have everything you could—”

“It’s been ten years!” Anakin shouted, furious, eyes wide and imploring. “Where is my mother, Obi-Wan? Do you know? Does anyone? Is she still alive?” 

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised at his outburst. His voice gentled. “Anakin…”

Anakin ripped his hands out of Obi-Wan’s relaxed grip, and pushed him back. His lip was trembling. “Don’t Anakin me. You don’t get to do that. All you do is treat me just like everybody else.” 

Obi-Wan turned his head to watch as Anakin paced away. “What?” 

Anakin stopped to stand over one of the still bodies on the ground, facing away from Obi-Wan. He wiped roughly at his cheek, voice thick. “You don’t actually care about me. You don’t know me. Nobody knows me.”

The street was very quiet, the brawl having driven everyone else away, making them scurry out of range of the danger. They were alone. A wispy cloud moved away from the moon, and it became noticeably brighter, bright enough that Obi-Wan could clearly see Anakin’s slumped shoulders, his defeated posture. “Is this why you don’t care about the assassination attempts?” 

“What?” Anakin twisted to stare at him, eyes wet. 

Obi-Wan spoke quietly. “Are you trying to die?”

Anakin scowled, and shook his head sharply. His voice grew thicker as he spoke. “I just don’t want to live like this.” He gestured widely, heaving a breath as he finished, disguising a sob. 

Obi-Wan felt frozen. It was almost as if this was the first time he was having a real conversation with Anakin, after months of games. The mask of the callow prince was gone, and Obi-Wan was worried about what he saw beneath. He approached Anakin like he would a skittish horse. “Like what?”

Anakin sniffed, and blinked, a tear dropping down his flushed cheek. Obi-Wan felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, the vulnerability pulling him closer, an irresistible lure. 

“Please,” Anakin whispered as he approached, and Obi-Wan bent closer to hear him. “Don’t make me go back yet, please.”

Obi-Wan sighed, all his anger transforming into an emotion he couldn’t name. “Anakin, it’s safer—”

Anakin sobbed, and cringed into himself. He somehow looked very small. “You’re just like the rest of them. You don’t care how I feel.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, tracking more tears as they fell, each one making him feel a swell of something hot, protective, possessive. “Everybody cares.” 

“No, they don’t!” Anakin began to cry in earnest, shoulders shaking, his breathing rapid and shallow. “Nobody really cares about me. I’m so… so tired of it.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan raised his hands in a gentling motion, feeling a strong need to touch him, to calm and soothe his distress. He laid his hands on his shoulders, and Anakin shuddered, leaning into his touch. Obi-Wan felt something hot and molten slide down his spine, his arousal spiking.

“Don’t make me go, Obi-Wan,” Anakin almost whimpered, and leaned his head forward until his forehead met Obi-Wan’s shoulder, voice muffled against his chest as he only cried harder. “Please.”

Obi-Wan felt simultaneously frozen and burning up, the overwhelming proximity of Anakin mixed with whatever emotion was making his heart pound and cock throb inappropriately at his genuine and raw vulnerability. After a charged moment, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around him and held him close. 

Anakin sobbed and clung to him, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, and Obi-Wan could feel the wet tears on his skin. He took a deep, calming breath, trying to regain steadiness. Anakin smelled like sweat and beer, the sweet scent of his skin hiding underneath. He was so warm and close—needy and pliant.

Obi-Wan shifted slightly, his cock throbbing inappropriately again. It shouldn’t feel this good for Anakin to seek comfort from him, but it did.

“All right,” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking his back, holding him close. “Come with me. Let’s go get cleaned up, all right?”

“I don’t want to go back to the palace,” Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan's stomach tightened at the way he clung so closely to him, the sound of his voice so weak and begging. “Please.”

Obi-Wan pulled back, getting his hips and half-hard cock away from Anakin. “I don’t…” His voice came out rough and low, so he cleared his throat. “I don’t actually live in the palace, Anakin. I have a residence in town. We can go there.”

Anakin resisted separation, blinking at him with confusion. His face was a mess, tear tracks on his cheeks, and he was so beautiful, his skin glowing in the pale light of the moon. “But you’re always at the palace.” 

“I’m there for you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently, squeezing his uninjured arm in reassurance. 

“Oh,” Anakin breathed, and wiped his cheeks roughly again. He squared his shoulders as best he could, and Obi-Wan felt an almost impossible swell of fondness for the way he tried to look strong and nonchalant. “That makes sense, I guess.”

Obi-Wan huffed a soft laugh, and slid his hand from his arm to rest on his back, stroking small circles with his thumb, supportive and gentle. “I came back to Coruscant for you. I’m here for you.”

Anakin’s eyes were wide and wet, and he bit his lip, nodding. Another tear slid down his cheek, and Obi-Wan couldn't resist the urge to wipe it away. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Anakin just nodded silently in reply. Obi-Wan guided him away from the bodies on the street, and swallowed down his persistent arousal as Anakin obediently followed wherever he led him, docile and compliant to the direction offered by his touch.

It was a long, quiet walk, the town peaceful and still around them. The night was unseasonably cool, but Obi-Wan still felt slightly flushed. For months, Anakin had defied him, so full of attitude and disrespect. He’d sneered at him, and snarled at him when they trained. He’d been such an infuriating nuisance.

But without all his pretenses, without all his posturing—he was so sweet and beautiful, needy and open. He sniffled quietly, and Obi-Wan stroked his back reassuringly. Anakin looked over as he did, so grateful for the contact, and Obi-Wan’s cock ached. 

“Be quiet inside,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice when they’d finally arrived at his house. “I don’t want to rouse the entire household. My niece should be sleeping.” 

Anakin nodded, just as obedient as before, following him meekly up inside and up the stairs. He asked quietly, “Your niece lives here? Not in Stewjon?”

“She wanted to come to your wedding,” Obi-Wan replied without thinking. He witnessed with concern the flinch and cringe that came from his words. He couldn’t help but lay a hand on his back, murmuring in apology, “It is a large event for the kingdom, Your Highness.” 

Anakin swallowed, unable to meet his eyes. “What’s her name?” 

Obi-Wan smiled despite himself. “Ahsoka. Lady Tano. She’s thirteen. You would probably get along. She reminds me of you when you were young.” He guided him through the last door into his rooms. 

Anakin stumbled, and then stared at him intently. “You remember that?”

Obi-Wan frowned, tugging at the hem of Anakin’s tunic to signal that he should take it off, curious to look at the damage to his arm. “Of course I remember.”

Anakin hissed in pain, sliding out of the tunic without moving his arm much. He dropped the bloody fabric on the ground, straightening and rolling his shoulders back, his broad, strong chest bare, his arm bloody. The firelight caught the hints of gold in his hair, the curly mess suggesting a halo. 

Obi-Wan blinked and moved forward, guiding Anakin to sit in a chair before the fire. Anakin followed his direction obediently and without thought, trusting Obi-Wan implicitly, and unaware of what he was doing to him as he stayed so tame and yielding. 

“I didn’t think you would’ve remembered me.” Anakin sounded almost shy. “I wasn’t anybody special back then.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and fetched the bowl and pitcher with fresh water left near his bed. He wet a cloth, and began to clean up Anakin’s arm. “You were special then too, Anakin. I did talk to Sir Drallig you know, before I left, about you entering the guard. He’d agreed to talk to your mother.”

“Really?” Anakin’s head rocked back slightly in surprise, and then he flinched as Obi-Wan slid the cloth carefully above his injury. “I didn’t know you did that.” 

Obi-Wan hummed, inspecting the cut more closely, and deciding it didn’t actually need stitches. “I asked about you in a letter once, about your progress, and that’s how I learned that you’d been elevated to the peerage.” 

The room was silent except for the crackle and pop of the fire in the fireplace. Obi-Wan turned to find bandages, and Anakin asked his back, voice unexpectedly thick, as if he were on the verge of tears again. “You asked about me?”

Obi-Wan returned quickly with a bandage, concerned. He touched Anakin’s cheek lightly and frowned when his fingers came away wet. “Are you injured somewhere else?”

Anakin shook his head, voice shaking. He looked intently into the fire, clearly trying to keep his breath deep and steady as Obi-Wan began to bandage his cut. “I was so sure you’d forgotten about me, and…”

“And what?” Obi-Wan prompted him as he trailed off, years of experience making his hands move through the routine of bandaging a wound automatically.

Anakin chuckled, sounding almost embarrassed. He wiped his cheek and confessed, “I had this fantasy when I was younger, that Sir Qui-Gon had taken me as a page, even though I wasn’t a noble or anything. Then I imagined that I’d left with you, was your squire, whenever I couldn’t take court anymore. I imagined I was off fighting Mandalorians with you.” 

Obi-Wan went still, hands pausing. He was just as surprised to hear that Anakin had thought about him as Anakin had been to hear that Obi-Wan had done the same. He’d been so sure that Anakin had been caught up, corrupted and spoiled with becoming Lord Vader, and that he’d forgotten who he was before.

He felt a sharp swell of regret. “Anakin…” 

“When you came back,” Anakin spoke over him, still looking into the fire, his face filled with such overwhelming sadness. He looked so lonely. “I was so mad at you, even though I knew it was dumb. I was mad you didn’t take me with you. I was mad you left me here. I was mad you forgot about me.” 

“I didn’t, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, cupping his chin gently and making him look up at him, seeking eye contact. “I didn’t forget you.” 

Anakin’s lip trembled, and his eyes were wide, his eyelashes wet. He sucked in a shaky breath, his voice equally unstable. “Then why are you so mean to me?”

He sounded so needy, begging and desperate, and Obi-Wan felt like his lingering arousal was going to drive him insane. Being alone with Anakin like this was going to kill him.  

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and dropped his hand, turning to put away the extra bandages. He kept his tone level. “The Privy Council asked me to get the prince under control. I have been trying to fit you in that box, and for that I am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Anakin’s face did something complicated, and he looked down. “I’ve hated you so much for it.”  

“I noticed that,” Obi-Wan said as neutrally as possible. He grabbed a clean shirt, and returned, holding it out for Anakin to take. “I just didn’t know why.” 

Anakin grabbed the hand holding the shirt rather than the shirt itself, and used it to pull Obi-Wan closer. There was a question and a desperate plea in his eyes. “I wanted you to be nice to me.” 

Obi-Wan allowed Anakin to pull him between his spread knees, feeling almost drugged, too dazed to stop it. Anakin’s wet eyes drew him closer, and the craving to touch him was too strong to let go. He traced the tear tracks lightly again, and then rubbed his thumb down his cheekbone, his palm resting on his cheek, his fingers sinking into his soft hair.

Anakin whimpered and leaned up, swiftly closing the distance and pressing his lips against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan felt several heartbeats of disbelief, until Anakin made a sad, needy little noise at his inaction. The hand that was cupping Anakin’s cheek slid back to grip his hair, and the other hand pulled him closer by the back of the neck as he kissed him back. 

Obi-Wan felt like he was falling into Anakin, lost and consumed in the sensation of their lips moving together. Anakin’s pouting bottom lip had been the bane of his existence, and now he could bite it, suck on it until Anakin moaned, his hips shifting. The sound made Obi-Wan’s cock throb, becoming impossibly harder. He ached to touch it, to touch him.  

Anakin’s mouth opened, and Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, licking between his lips and groaning at the taste of him. Their tongues met, it felt so good, too good. Obi-Wan had to tear his head back, breathing hard. 

Anakin looked almost obscene, his lips slick and cheeks flushed so dark. His pupils were blown, his heavy-lidded gaze filled with so much desire, Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it was directed at him. He shook his head slightly. “Anakin…”

The unfocused look in Anakin’s eyes vanished in an instant. “Don’t tell me we can’t, please.”

Obi-Wan remembered all of the very good reasons he shouldn’t become intimate with the prince. Windu’s unimpressed eyes flashed in his mind, and he winced, stepping back. “It’s unwise.”

Anakin looked both devastated and unsurprised by his retreat, his hands falling into his lap. He slumped back in the chair, gazing into the fire again, his expression bleak. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be married soon. Lady Amidala is…” Obi-Wan trailed off reassuring him when Anakin’s face crumpled. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t choose to do that. I never get to choose anything.”

Obi-Wan frowned, thinking back to all the times he had seen the betrothed couple interacting. “But you are very fond of Padmé. I know you are.”

Anakin laughed weakly, and kicked off his boots, stretching his feet toward the fire. “Is that supposed to make it better?”

Obi-Wan blinked at him, nonplussed. “Yes.”

“Oh. Well, it doesn’t.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and removed his own boots, feeling constricted by them. “Anakin—”

Anakin abruptly stood up to his full height, a reckless, determined gleam in his eye. He pushed forward into Obi-Wan’s space, hugging him close with a soft sound of satisfaction at his proximity. Obi-Wan was taken aback, unprepared for Anakin clinging to him again, whispering in his ear. “Please, Obi-Wan, let me choose.”

“But—”

Anakin’s hand found Obi-Wan’s hard cock, effectively silencing him. He traced the outline of it through the fabric of Obi-Wan’s trousers with a pleased noise. “So you really do want me. I wasn’t sure.”

Obi-Wan moaned quietly as Anakin’s lips found the sensitive skin of his neck, kissing and sucking below his ear. “Of course I want you.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Anakin repeated shyly, impossibly insecure for someone so handsome, talented, and powerful. Obi-Wan wanted to take care of him. 

“What do you want?” Obi-Wan asked, allowing Anakin to pull off his shirt and kiss down his neck, stroking the hair on his chest with satisfaction. Anakin’s fingers trailed down to the waist of Obi-Wan’s trousers, making him feel more than slightly light headed. 

“I want you.”

Obi-Wan grabbed and held Anakin’s hips for stability more than anything else. “You’ll have to be a touch more specific.”

Anakin straightened and met his eyes, excited and intent. “I want you to fuck me.”

Obi-Wan blinked, and began walking him backward toward his bed. “Have you done that before?”

Anakin pouted, and shoved down his trousers, stepping out of them clumsily, and was suddenly naked—his legs were so long and strong, his cock bobbing. He removed Obi-Wan’s trousers too, exhaling hard with satisfaction at his thick, flushed length. “I’ve never trusted anyone enough to actually, but…”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, slightly unsure, and sat him down gently on the edge of his bed. “Are you sure—”

“Please? I like how it feels when I use my fingers”—Obi-Wan’s mind stuttered to a halt and then was flooded with a thousand visions of that— “I’m sure it’s only better if it was your cock instead.” He tipped his head to the side, looking so adorably confused. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and quickly found the bottle of clove infused olive oil he kept beside his bed for this purpose. He pressed it into Anakin’s hand and tipped his head in an encouraging nod. “Show me.”

Anakin sniffed the oil and hummed, sliding up the bed to lean back against the pillows, his legs opening wide, exposing himself completely and thoughtlessly to Obi-Wan—who felt as though he had been turned to stone at the sight. Anakin seemed to abruptly realize what he’d done, blushing a dark crimson.

He was no coward though; he was always moving forward, reckless and impulsive. He quickly slicked his fingers and reached down to coat the tight, pink skin of his entrance. Obi-Wan watched with rapt attention as Anakin began to sink a finger inside, moaning loudly and eyes rolling back at the sensation.

Obi-Wan sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, stroking the soft hair of Anakin’s leg in encouragement. He watched, mouth dry, as Anakin quickly added a second finger. “You’re beautiful.”

“What?” Anakin panted at him, fingers sliding in and out with increasing speed. Obi-Wan couldn’t rip his eyes away. “Obi-Wan?”

“Umm…” Obi-Wan coughed, trying to remember what he’d just said. “I think you’re very beautiful.”

“Really?”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to roll his eyes. “There’s a reason that many are after you all the time.”

Anakin shrugged dismissively, biting his lip. “My name. I didn’t think it was about me at all.” He groaned with frustration, spreading his fingers wider. “Obi-Wan, please, you’re so far away.”

“So come back here,” Obi-Wan murmured, tugging on his leg, pulling him closer. “Come sit, so you can control taking it.”

Anakin huffed with indignation at being asked to move, but his excitement was clear as he hurried to follow instructions, slipping his fingers out and crawling closer. Obi-Wan rubbed oil on his cock and Anakin clambered onto his lap, hovering above him on his knees. 

“You’re sure?” Obi-Wan asked, one last time, searching his face. 

Anakin looked down at him and smiled, and Obi-Wan’s heart felt so full—it was a genuine, soft smile, not his cocky smirk. He’d never seen that smile before. 

“Please,” Anakin whispered, dipping his head forward to kiss him. “Fuck me, Obi-Wan. Please.”

Obi-Wan hummed and kissed him back, holding his cock still in one hand and guiding Anakin’s hips down with the other. Anakin broke the kiss with a gasp, his eyes wide. His mouth dropped open as Obi-Wan tugged him down an inch, slipping just the tip in—his tight, slick, heat was intoxicating, and the entire world felt narrowed down to just that point. Staying still was impossible, but he had to, he couldn’t hurt Anakin. 

“Oh,” Anakin inhaled, and then moaned loudly, opening up around him and attempting to lower himself quickly. 

Obi-Wan groaned and caught him by the hips, making him have patience. “Slowly, darling. Slowly.”

“But, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whined, incredulous. He kissed him again sloppily, groaning and panting as Obi-Wan let him take more. “It feels so good.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Anakin’s hips, staying in control but doubtless leaving bruises in the process. His eyes closed as he struggled to resist the urge to snap his hips up, to fill Anakin’s tight ass completely. “Good, it’s supposed to feel good. I want you to feel good.”

Anakin circled his hips, sinking down another inch, and he was getting so close to taking it all. Obi-Wan kissed down the soft skin of his neck, one hand letting go of his hip to grab Anakin’s cock instead, stroking it back toward full hardness. 

“Yes,” Anakin hissed, his back arching and abruptly sliding down the rest of the way, taking the last of Obi-Wan’s cock, completely full. He moaned loudly, rolling his hips experimentally. “So much, it’s so much.”

“Patience,” Obi-Wan groaned, stroking Anakin’s cock again, squeezing gently and making him whimper.

Anakin grabbed his wrist and jerked his hand away, his breathing fast and voice tight. “I don’t want to come yet!”

Obi-Wan laughed and obeyed, looking up at Anakin’s face and searching his expression. He felt a twist of concern when he saw fresh tear tracks, the smile wiped away. “Why are you crying? Are you hurting? You have to tell me.”

Anakin just shook his head, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and burrowing closer. He began to roll his hips, fucking himself faster and faster on Obi-Wan’s cock as he fully adjusted to the sensation. His voice was muffled against Obi-Wan, but still audible. “Everything I wanted. Everything.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan’s eyes rolled back despite himself, and he wrapped his arms around Anakin’s back, holding him close, breathing against his neck. “That’s right, very good. Take what you need.”

Anakin quickly began to lose rhythm, too overwhelmed with pleasure to keep pace. He whined and bit at Obi-Wan’s ear. “I can’t. Fuck me, Obi-Wan. I need you to fuck me.”

Obi-Wan made a low sound and nodded—he wanted very badly to fuck him, to take control and thrust his cock even deeper inside, but he decided that Anakin should be more comfortable first. He grabbed and stilled Anakin’s rolling hips, easily pulling him up and off his cock.

Anakin made a scandalized noise as he slipped out. “No! This is the opposite of—” 

His words stopped abruptly as Obi-Wan picked him up, standing in an easy show of strength and dropping him back down on the bed. Anakin looked up at him with wide eyes, and then spread his legs in invitation. “Please.” 

Obi-Wan put one knee on the mattress and slid an arm underneath Anakin’s back, dragging him up the bed beneath him until Anakin’s head rested on the pillows again. He drew back to kneel between his legs, adding more oil to his cock and letting Anakin get comfortable until he let out a little sigh of impatience.    

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said in a needy whine, reaching up for him. “I’m dying.”

Obi-Wan smiled, and carefully capped and set aside the oil. “Put a pillow under your hips.”

“Dying,” Anakin repeated, obeying quickly, the combination of his familiar bratty tone with his unthinking obedience to Obi-Wan’s instructions making Obi-Wan feel drunk. 

“Very good,” he said, voice rough. He took a moment to just appreciate how Anakin looked spread out beneath him, the way the firelight illuminated and emphasized his features. His muscled body was a work of art, his flushed and panting chest was perfect, his strong jaw and soft mouth. His eyes were begging him, so full of need.

“Fuck me,” Anakin ordered, his imperious tone undercut by desperation. 

Obi-Wan’s cock ached, and he stroked his hands down the inside of Anakin’s soft thighs toward his knees, spreading his legs open wider. Anakin whimpered and shifted around, trying to put himself in the best position to take Obi-Wan’s cock. “Now, Obi-Wan, now.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Obi-Wan said with a crooked little smile, lining up his cock with Anakin’s slick entrance. He teased him for a moment, rubbing the head against his hole but not fucking inside, just to hear the absolutely indignant noise Anakin made. 

“Obi-Wan, I swear—”

Obi-Wan pushed his hips forward, sliding his cock inside, making him take it. He groaned at the perfect heat and pressure of Anakin, the way he took him so easily—he slid back and then snapped his hips forward and down, fucking deeper and deeper into his tight body. 

Anakin moaned and arched his back, eyes fluttering closed, taking him so perfectly. His arms came up to grab Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and then pulled him down, chest to chest, throwing off his quick rhythm. He wrapped his arms and legs around Obi-Wan, holding him tightly and humming in satisfaction. 

Obi-Wan exhaled hard with surprise. He let Anakin breathe with him for a moment before his cock throbbed, and he shook his head. “You’ll have to let me go at least a little if you want me to fuck you harder.” 

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Anakin said, sultry and coy. “Maybe I want it slow.”

Obi-Wan rolled his hips as best he could, and then gave Anakin a look. “Darling, let me fuck you properly, please.” 

Anakin sighed theatrically and then let his head fall back. He opened his legs and arms, putting his feet on the mattress and dropping his knees open wide. Obi-Wan grabbed his hands as a precaution and laced their fingers together, pressing them down on the mattress above Anakin’s head as he rose up on his elbows to hover over him. He snapped his hips forward and down, fucking Anakin hard, just like he needed. 

Anakin’s eyes rolled back and he moaned loudly. “Yes, okay, please.” 

“You like that?” Obi-Wan’s voice was low and intent, his hips speeding up until all he could hear was the way their skin slapped together, and Anakin’s rough breathing, his little moans. “So good, feel so good.”

Anakin blinked up at him and nodded, mouth open, whole body moving with Obi-Wan’s thrusts. He was so perfect, so soft and hot and open that Obi-Wan could only fuck him harder, it was so perfect, too perfect. He felt close to the edge, sooner than he would have liked.

“Come on me,” Anakin ordered suddenly.

Obi-Wan groaned, hips stuttering. “What?” 

Anakin rolled his hips, fucking himself on Obi-Wan’s cock, his voice perfectly seductive. “I want to see it, want to feel it. I can tell you’re close, please, I want to feel it.” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said weakly, barely holding on. “As you wish.”

He pulled out and knelt between Anakin’s legs, the oil making it easy to stroke his cock quickly, breathing hard. His eyes slid up from Anakin’s hard cock, to his heaving chest, his wet mouth, and finally to his wide, dark eyes—the eye contact was enough, and with one more twisting squeeze of the head of his cock, he came, streaks of white painting Anakin’s stomach.

“Yes,” Anakin exhaled in satisfaction, jerking his own cock quickly. “Yes.”

“Come for me,” Obi-Wan encouraged him, sitting back and watching him draw closer to the edge. He felt drunk, the release from his own orgasm still sparkling through his nerves, perfect and overwhelming. “Come now.”

“Yes,” Anakin moaned, and he tensed, eyes rolling back, his hand filling with come, dripping down to join Obi-Wan’s come on his stomach. They stared at each other incredulously for a long moment after he finished, breathing hard. 

“Holy fuck.”

Obi-Wan laughed, the tension broken, and they smiled at each other. Anakin wiped his hand on his stomach, and Obi-Wan made a face at that. He stood up, still a bit lightheaded, and found a clean rag, dipping it in water and using it to clean his hands and cock. He brought another one over, and cleaned Anakin up too.

Anakin let him, watching intently as Obi-Wan stroked his stomach clean, and down between his legs, clearing up all the mess. His voice was rough when he said, “Thank you.” 

Obi-Wan looked up, concerned, as Anakin’s breathing sped up, tears welling in his eyes. He tossed the rag aside and crawled up to lay beside him, pulling him over and letting him curl up on his chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m happy,” Anakin cried, irrational and overwhelmed. “I know I won’t be happy later, but I’m happy now.” 

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead and held him tighter. “I’m happy too.”

“Can we do this again?” He looked so vulnerable, trying so hard to get back in control of himself. “Or was this it?”

Obi-Wan kissed his cheek, and pulled back, tasting the salt of a tear. “You’re a fool to think that I wouldn’t want this again, Anakin.”

Anakin laughed weakly. “Well, everyone knows that I am a fool.”

“I know better,” Obi-Wan hugged him tighter, repeating himself quietly. “I know better.”

The tension left Anakin’s body, and he snuggled against Obi-Wan’s chest, his breathing becoming steadier. “I’m glad.” 

Obi-Wan stroked his back, reassuring and calming, and felt the same emotion as before—the same surge of protective, possessive heat. He smiled to himself, recognizing it for what it was, and kissed Anakin’s temple, smelling his hair. He murmured to himself, satisfied as Anakin drifted off to sleep on his chest. “I know better.”

Anakin felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple and fall to the floor, his muscles trembling and heart pounding. His lightsaber moved fast, trying to force an opening in Obi-Wan’s technically perfect defense. Obi-Wan just smirked at him, insufferably competent, and it made Anakin growl with frustration and redouble his efforts.  

Nobody else would have been able to tell, but Obi-Wan was moving slower than usual, his form ever so slightly hasty and sloppy as he kept up with Anakin’s prolonged Djem So attack. He was regaining weight and muscle mass relatively quickly, but was still too wiry for Anakin’s comfort. It made him feel an unhelpful and familiar swell of rage at Ventress, at how he’d found Obi-Wan barely alive on Rattatak. Muscle maggots. He’d been eaten alive from the inside, weakened, tortured. 

Obi-Wan seemed to sense his momentary distraction, and kicked a leg out, sweeping Anakin’s feet from under him. Anakin made an undignified squawk as he was brought to his knees, his lightsaber hastily spinning to catch and block Obi-Wan’s bout-ending strike to his right arm. He pushed Obi-Wan back with the Force and spun a foot out, knocking him down too, and then hopped so he was kneeling over him, lightsaber to his neck, breathing hard and voice hopeful. “Yield?”

“Yield,” Obi-Wan agreed, laughing quietly, eyes bright and face slightly flushed. “Though I do believe that constitutes cheating.” He shoved Anakin back and Anakin let his momentum carry him to sit heavily on the training room floor beside Obi-Wan with a thump, grinning back at him, so glad to see him smile. It was so nice to see him, spar with him, just like old times, before the war, before Anakin thought he watched him kriffing die on Jabiim, before…

Anakin shook his head, pushing away the unhelpful thoughts. It’d been several months since he’d found and brought Obi-Wan back from his long imprisonment, and they were moving past the episode. He pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand down, pulling Obi-Wan up, hyper-aware of the strong, calloused grip of Obi-Wan’s hand and the scent of his sweat as he rose to stand next to him, panting slightly. 

“Good work, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, unexpectedly quiet and sincere. He let go of Anakin’s hand and reached up to his cheek instead, briefly cupping his face and giving him one of his rare, true smiles, radiating warmth in the Force. 

“Master,” Anakin said on an exhale, his cheeks feeling hot, heart pounding. He looked down, unable to handle more eye contact. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan nodded and dropped his hand, turning to look over the small crowd that their sparring had assembled in the training hall. He bowed to them all with a friendly smile, and then wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his lightweight training shirt. He murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “That was exhausting.”

“Having trouble keeping up, old man?” Anakin teased him, grinning when Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes and sighed. 

They headed off together toward the locker rooms off the main Knights’ training hall, their sparring session having run longer than either of them had expected, performing for the crowd at the end. It had been so satisfying, so much kriffing fun— his Master had been feeling competitive and almost playful, showing off skills for the Padawans with a twinkle in his eye. 

Anakin cracked his neck, trying to will his body to not react, to not make a spectacle of himself in his soft exercise pants. Sparring with Obi-Wan always made him feel a low level of arousal, and had almost embarrassed him a hundred times over his years as a Padawan. He was a Knight now, and still just as sexually frustrated by contact with his Master as he’d ever been, if not even more. 

He looked sideways at Obi-Wan, at his slightly sweaty hair, his broad shoulders and strong chest, the way his walk swayed with so much unconscious confidence, and he felt a strike of overwhelming craving almost too much to stand. He wanted to touch his Master, so badly, in any way he’d let him. He wanted to suck his cock, kneel down for him and let him use his mouth.   

Anakin exhaled hard, setting his jaw with determination, making sure that his shields were strong in the Force. He knew he would never get to touch his Master like that, but there was an alternative that he’d considered many, many times over the years. He’d always rejected it in the past for a wide array of reasons, but now—now he was just too hot, too aroused, and it made him finally push past his fears and make a decision. 

He felt a twist in his stomach, a flare of nervousness, that in the past would have always made Obi-Wan shoot him a look, a raised eyebrow or a concerned glance, but this time he didn’t notice. Anakin smiled to himself with satisfaction; he’d been working so hard for so many years to improve his shielding to the point that his Force presence was masked even to Obi-Wan. Only recently had he finally managed to sneak up on Obi-Wan successfully, and was able to hide his inappropriate reactions better than he ever had in the past.

He held the door out of the hall open, and Obi-Wan did a small double take at the smile on his face, only a slight twitch betraying his surprise. “What are you so pleased about?”

“Nothing,” Anakin said quickly, following him into the locker room. “Just satisfied with some of my progress, that’s all.”

Obi-Wan gave him a familiar, long-suffering look, though his eyes sparkled with good humor. He spoke quietly, tone droll and intimate. “I would caution you not to get too cocky, but I’m afraid that starship is well off the dock.” 

“Hey!” Anakin protested, shoving him slightly on the shoulder and hiding his arousal at Obi-Wan saying cocky like that behind his shields, unbelievably annoyed at how kriffing attractive he was sometimes.

Obi-Wan smiled again, taking Anakin’s push with characteristic grace, his voice quiet and genuine. “You do have much to be satisfied about.” 

“Really?” Anakin felt a surge of heat and embarrassment, but he kept it inside, letting Obi-Wan register only a faint, appropriate amount of pride.

“Of course you do, Anakin.” 

They wound their way toward their lockers, passing and nodding greetings to a few others, and Anakin swallowed down another flush of heat. It was not crowded in the early evening, but there were enough Knights around that there was a good chance he would get what he wanted—now that finally his Force signature was sufficiently quiet to take advantage of the glory hole that was located between the last two shower stalls against the far back wall, the existence of which was an open secret among the Jedi.

It made sense, after all. Humans and other species had sexual needs, but attachment was always a risk with intimate relations, so what was the best solution? For many at the Temple, it was faceless sexual encounters with other Jedi in the adults-only locker room, with the tacit understanding that both participants would shield their Force signatures enough to maintain anonymity. No complications that way, just release.

Anakin had been mortified when he’d found out about it as a young Padawan, the idea making him feel hot and terribly embarrassed just thinking about it. As he’d grown older, his interest had changed and increased, but he’d been sure that he’d never have the courage to try.

It had been a moot point anyway, even when he was old enough to be allowed in the locker room, he’d never been able to shield well enough to participate. He’d contented himself with jerking himself off to the thought of his Master instead, playing with toys, only ever getting off by himself.

Then his mission to Naboo, the beginning of the war, his Knighthood—it all had changed everything. His powers had increased with unending combat, and his control over his Force presence was stronger than ever before. He’d slept with Padmé enough times to no longer be mortified by the idea of sex with another person in general, and knew that he needed something that she couldn’t quite give him. Someone.  

Ever since he’d returned to Coruscant from his last tour of the Outer Rim, since losing and finding Obi-Wan again, being around him had become intolerable in ways that he couldn’t put into words. Their relationship was so strange and charged now, both closer and more distant than before. Obi-Wan was open and friendly with him in a way that he’d never been with his Padawan learner, but more closed off in the Force. 

It drove Anakin insane. He wanted to suck his cock so much it almost hurt, and it simply couldn’t continue like this.

He knew he could have gone down to Coruscant’s lower levels and found a random partner, but that had always felt wrong to him. The locker room only appealed to him at all because he felt safe at the Temple in a way that he didn’t elsewhere. He trusted the people there. The Jedi were generally healthy and clean, both positive traits in Anakin’s opinion when thinking about sucking on random cocks.

They reached their lockers, and Obi-Wan seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry, toweling off his sweat and then opening his locker to begin changing back into his robes without a shower. 

Anakin pulled off his shirt more slowly, and used it to wipe his face. “Council meeting?” 

“Something like that, yes,” Obi-Wan sighed, his eyes moving past Anakin’s bare torso like it was as uninteresting as the lockers behind and beside it. Anakin kept his swell of impotent frustration behind his shields. Obi-Wan found men attractive, Anakin knew for a fact that he did. Why couldn’t he ever seem to see him? Why wouldn’t he even look?

Anakin sighed and let his pants fall, kicking them off and then wrapping a towel around his waist. He looked toward the row of showers and then over at Obi-Wan’s distracted back. “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Obi-Wan nodded at him genially over his shoulder. 

Anakin nodded back and headed to one of the center stalls to get clean, wanting to give Obi-Wan time to leave, and also feeling slightly too sweaty, too nervous. He scrubbed himself down, waiting until he couldn’t feel Obi-Wan’s presence nearby in the Force anymore, and then sighed with relief as he turned off the water. He dried off, intentionally pulling his own Force signature inside himself. 

Once he felt in control of his presence in the Force, he left his stall. He tentatively looked down to the end of the row, checking to see if either stall door was closed with a towel hung over it, the sign that the person inside was down for something. The door to the furthest stall was already closed, and there was a towel. Kriff, yes, it could happen. He wouldn’t even have to wait.

Anakin’s stomach twisted with nervous excitement, but he carefully kept himself shielded. He looked around the almost empty locker room, his mouth feeling wet. Nobody else was going for it, and nobody else was even looking. This was it. His chance. 

He walked quickly and deliberately to the correct stall, and closed the door behind himself, locking it with a quiet click. He moved past the small changing area, back toward the tile shower, and saw the small, waist-height hole cut out in the thin wall between the cubicles. He drew closer, his heart in his throat and his Force signature locked down. 

He remembered the instructions that a drunk Quinlan Vos had slurred to him one night between missions, and squared his shoulders. He could do this.  

He pulled off his towel and folded it to cushion his knees, laying it on the ground and then, carefully using his unrecognizable, non-metal left hand, he ran a finger along the bottom of the hole in the wall, signaling to the other person that he wanted it, and pulled back. He waited, and the Force was silent, as was customary. And then—

Anakin blinked, and inhaled sharply as the hole went dark as it was first blocked by somebody’s hips, and then filled by an erection. The cock was thick and long, and Anakin knelt down in front of it, feeling almost worshipful. He took a shaky breath, his own cock throbbing and filling with his excitement. Thank the Force, it was exactly what he’d hoped for. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

He wondered whose cock it was for a moment, and then pushed that question away. It didn’t matter.

He reached out almost thoughtlessly, his fingers brushing gently along the vein running up the bottom of the hard length. He felt punchdrunk, intoxicated by the unreality of touching one of the most perfect cocks he’d ever seen in his life, which admittedly wasn’t very many, but he couldn’t believe what was before him—it was so thick and hard already, slightly shiny with lube, and it was clear whoever it was had been jerking himself off before Anakin had arrived. 

Feeling slightly weak, he sat back on his heels and brought his face to the right height, lining up his mouth. He gently wrapped his flesh hand around the base of the cock to keep it still and leaned forward to lick the tip, tasting a small amount of precome that his first light contact brought out. He almost groaned at the familiar-unfamiliar taste, and then remembered the unspoken norm of anonymity-protecting quiet. 

He sucked saliva into his mouth like he’d practiced alone, and then licked up the vein from the base to the head of the cock, getting it wet. His own cock was aching enough that he gently squeezed the head with his metal fingers, craving the relief of pressure. The small shower cubicle was so quiet, the air so humid, and the skin of the stranger’s hard cock was so soft and warm.

Anakin took a centering breath and then pushed his head forward, letting the tip pass between his lips and press down on his tongue. It was somehow exactly like having a toy in his mouth and completely different—the velvet of the skin against his lips, the slight bitterness of the precome mixed with the neutral taste of lube, the familiar, musky scent of sweat. 

He pulled his head back, letting his mouth pop off the cock, spitting on it and rubbing a hand up and down its length, spreading the saliva and getting it even wetter. He was filled with satisfaction that the cock was very hard now, very flushed. He felt a lighting strike of pride and arousal, his own cock throbbing in his cool fingers, knowing he was bringing someone this much pleasure. 

He couldn’t help but think that Obi-Wan’s cock would probably look something like this. Not that Anakin had obsessively imagined what it would look like when it was erect or anything, but this was so close to what he’d pictured—he could readily admit to himself that even if he wasn’t supposed to indulge the fantasy of sucking off his Master, he still did. 

Obi-Wan holding his hair, guiding him, letting Anakin suck him, fucking his mouth.  

Anakin swallowed, feeling slightly dizzy, and leaned forward, closing his eyes and happily pretending this was Obi-Wan. He imagined that they’d been sparring in private, and maybe that he’d been pushed to his knees in defeat and fed his Master’s cock. He returned eagerly to sucking on the head and bobbing up and down, slightly annoyed that he wasn’t able to take more of it inside easily. 

He pulled off and took a deep breath, spitting on the cock again, his hand spreading saliva up and down quickly before returning to work with his mouth. This time he let the cock hit the back of his throat and then relaxed, just like he’d practiced, and pushed his head forward to take the cock deep inside his throat. 

The man on the other side audibly groaned, a rough, low, involuntary exhalation of pleasure that made Anakin feel immeasurably proud. It sounded enough like Obi-Wan that Anakin slid his metal fingers back off his cock and behind his balls, reaching to stroke light circles around the sensitive rim of his ass, pressing slightly harder, and it felt just so good. 

He moaned involuntarily as a finger slipped inside, his mouth full of cock, his control on his Force signature slipping for just an instant. 

Anakin?!

Anakin froze, his eyes opening wide, seeing nothing. 

He instinctively tried to pull his Force signature back inside himself, but it was far too late, the damage was already done. Their training bond flooded back to life, and he was overwhelmed by the knowledge in the Force that Obi-Wan was caught halfway between horror and extreme arousal. He felt Obi-Wan’s cock twitch, the taste of precome flooding his mouth, and he reflexively swallowed it down as best he could. 

He just couldn’t believe it. It was actually Obi-Wan. It couldn’t be. 

The realization that he really was on his knees for his Master reverberated through him like he’d been struck like a bell, and his head felt both empty and full of a roar of confused thoughts. Flashes of images of Anakin on his knees, lips wrapped around Obi-Wan’s cock, vivid fantasies, not all of which seemed like his— 

Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had already been thinking about fucking his mouth too.

Obi-Wan’s hips jerked back, his cock sliding a few inches out of Anakin’s mouth and Anakin whined and pushed forward, his hand tightening slightly, pressing his lips and sucking gently, trying to keep him inside. He pushed thoughts across the bond, begging, Master, please, don’t stop. Let me, I want…

The Force between them was trembling, and Anakin could tell that the heat and pressure of his mouth was short circuiting the rational, screaming part of Obi-Wan’s mind, the understanding that Anakin had been thinking of him too, had wanted him, made his hips twitch forward. His cock sunk deeper back into Anakin’s mouth, making him choke slightly. 

It sounded like Obi-Wan’s forehead clunked forward against the wall, and Anakin could tell that he was barely preventing himself from repeating the motion and just fucking his face until he came. Anakin hummed, his mind full of a chant of please, yes, do it.

Anakin, Obi-Wan’s voice in his mind sounded wrecked. We can’t do this. 

We can, Anakin thought, needing to breathe but afraid to let Obi-Wan’s cock out of his mouth for even a moment. Please. He pulled back, gasping loudly for air, and he stroked Obi-Wan’s cock gently with his metal fingers. Need you.

He smiled as he felt Obi-Wan nearly come at the sensation of the metal, at how much better it was than he’d thought it would be. Obi-Wan’s thoughts were flowing across the bond without any filter now, a tangled mess of we need to stop, I can’t stop, how is it him? How is he this good at this? How many cocks has he sucked to get this good?  

There was a lightning flash of anger in their bond, from both sides, and Anakin wanted to growl. How many times have you come here and pretended it was me?  

He licked the head of Obi-Wan’s cock more roughly and then sucked it back in, taking him deep and making Obi-Wan hiss and think apologetically, Anakin, I didn’t mean…

The answer is zero for me, Anakin thought defensively, and shared memories of gagging on the thick, hard length of a toy, memories of adhering it to the wall at the right height so he could kneel and pretend—imagining it was Obi-Wan and fingering himself open, desperately wishing to take his Master’s cock. Is it zero for you?

Anakin, I… No. A flurry of memories of anonymous wet heat and pressure, guilty fantasies. Not zero.  

Anakin hummed with vindication and bobbed his head, noticing saliva dripping from his mouth, collecting it and stubbornly beginning to jerk himself off, his mouth still moving quickly up and down on Obi-Wan’s cock. Good. I’m glad you’ve wanted me too. Wanted you so bad.

Anakin. Obi-Wan stifled another groan, trying to muster up the willpower to stop but couldn’t when Anakin’s mouth felt so perfect—his mind was a kaleidoscopic array of wondering how Anakin’s pink, pouting lips looked wrapped around a toy, how they would look wrapped around him—

Come see, Anakin thought, and pulled off to breathe, spitting on his metal fingers and reaching back to circle his hole again, desperate for stimulation. He leaned forward and swallowed Obi-Wan’s cock, needing to have him back inside. Just come look, Master.

No, I can’t see, can’t know, Obi-Wan thought, stressed and tense, so close to the edge. I can’t.

Why not?

Obi-Wan groaned, his hips flexing slightly. Because I’d never stop seeing it. Because I want to see more than anything.

Master, Anakin whimpered, one hand moving faster on his cock, the other fingering himself open. Want to see you too. Need you. Missed you. Lost you…

The invocation of loss brought a sharp, chilling memory through Obi-Wan’s mind—Ventress’s satisfied and viciously cruel voice telling him that Anakin was dead, and Obi-Wan believing her, his crushing agony in that moment. Lost you too. 

Still here, Anakin stressed, kissing Obi-Wan’s cock over and over, almost sweetly, before sucking on it again, fucking himself with his fingers. Always here. Come here. Want you.

Can’t—

Anakin groaned with frustration, spitting on his fingers again and pushing them back inside his ass more roughly. Fine, don’t come here. I’m almost open enough. I could bend over now instead, you could take me through the wall. Do you have lube?

What? Obi-Wan’s presence in their bond pulsed with burning heat and surprise. Anakin, are you—

Do you want to fuck me, fuck my ass, Master? Anakin focused as hard as he could, sending him memories of the way he’d stretched himself open on bigger and bigger toys, until he could take cocks the size of Obi-Wan’s, though with some difficulty. I’ve practiced for you. 

Obi-Wan’s cock leaked more precome into his mouth that he swallowed greedily. Anakin, have you really never… You cannot take your first cock like this.  

Anakin popped off his cock to laugh quietly, his thoughts mocking. You want it to be tender and meaningful? I thought that wasn’t allowed.

It’s not, Obi-Wan thought, almost anguished. It’s not supposed to—

Anakin curled his fingers inside himself, and his eyes filled with tears with how much he needed more. Please, Master. I want it to be you. Need it to be, I missed you so much, love you! Kriff. No, I mean—

The Force trembled between them, and then went very still. It felt like something important had happened to Obi-Wan’s self control, and his cock disappeared back away from Anakin’s mouth and out of the glory hole. No! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I promise, I…

Anakin just had time to whimper desolately before the door of the stall next to him snapped open and closed, and then the lock on his own door was flipped by the Force, and a very aroused Obi-Wan was coming in, the look on his face reckless and intense as he locked the door behind him again. 

Anakin blinked up at him, still holding his cock, his fingers still inside himself. Obi-Wan paused, dark eyes drinking him in, seeing what he wasn’t supposed to see. He dropped his towel and lube on the ground, hard cock bouncing free, and his fingers waved, quickly turning on the shower, the sound of water hitting the tile covering up the sound of his rough voice. “Get up.”

Anakin freed his hands and scrambled to his feet, eyes wide as Obi-Wan walked him backward into the far wall. Hot water poured down, and Obi-Wan’s mouth collided hard with Anakin’s, kissing him like he was consuming him. Anakin whimpered and kissed him back needily, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and pulling him close, their hard cocks rubbing together, trapped between them. 

His mind felt equally divided between finally and how?

Obi-Wan’s strong hands slid down his chest, tweaking his nipples and making him whine, and down, back around his hips to grab his ass and squeeze hard, his thick fingers digging into soft muscle. He broke the kiss, breathing hard, searching out eye contact. “Anakin, I want to—”

“Yes,” Anakin cut him off quickly. 

Obi-Wan huffed, grip tightening on his ass. “You don't know what I was going to say.”

“If you want it, do it. I want what you want.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat sternly. 

“Obi-Wan, please.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan gave him a slow, predatory sort of smile that made Anakin feel lightheaded. His eyes were so dark, cheeks flushed red. “Turn around for me now.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin replied automatically, dropping his arms from Obi-Wan’s shoulders and turning to face the white tile of the wall, his back to Obi-Wan’s chest. He exhaled hard as Obi-Wan kicked his legs apart, and made a surprised, confused noise as Obi-Wan knelt down and pulled his hips back, spreading his cheeks and looking at him. 

“Master,” Anakin whined and cringed, suddenly feeling shy.

Quiet, Anakin, Obi-Wan sent him through the bond, making him shudder and nod, his cheek against the cool tile. Good.

Anakin bit down on his palm to muffle an involuntary moan as he felt Obi-Wan abruptly lean forward and press his face between his legs, his beard pleasantly rough on his sensitive skin. His mouth was hot and wet as he licked him behind his balls and back up, spitting and spreading more saliva around his hole, his tongue tracing circles on the sensitive skin of his rim. 

Anakin had never felt anything like it before, ever. His cock jerked and dripped with precome, and it felt like he was barely holding his Force presence from detonating loud enough that the entire locker room would notice a disturbance, let alone staying quiet. It felt so impossibly good, he felt so hot, too hot. He whined, “Master!”

Obi-Wan pulled back and bit his ass cheek gently in warning. Anakin heard the sound of a bottle being opened, and then felt one of Obi-Wan’s thick fingers, now slick with lube, taking the place of his tongue and pushing inside, making Anakin squeak and jerk.

Obi-Wan’s voice was so rough and strict. “Quiet.”

“Master, it’s too hard—”

The finger stilled. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, don’t!”

Obi-Wan bit him again on the ass affectionately, his finger beginning to slide in and out, circling and spreading him open. Anakin rocked his hips back and moaned as he added a second finger. Obi-Wan sounded mesmerized. “Thought about this, opening you up like this…”

“Yeah?” Anakin asked, voice breathy and weak. 

Obi-Wan hummed in affirmation, fingers moving ever faster. “Wondered what you looked like, spread out for me.”

“You did?”

Obi-Wan laughed quietly, memories flashing by too fast to catch, a blur of Anakin’s golden skin and spread thighs. “Of course I did.”

“Really?” Anakin whined. Obi-Wan had imagined him too, it was impossible.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan bit him again, spreading his fingers and then adding a third, making Anakin groan quietly. “Do you even know what you look like, when I take you down sparring, and you’re sprawled out beneath me, legs spread wide?” 

Anakin shook his head, rubbing his cheek against the tile, the coolness contrasting with the hot water and Obi-Wan’s hot breath on his skin. “No, I thought… I thought you didn’t see me at all.”

Obi-Wan exhaled hard. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t see anything else.”

Anakin’s cock throbbed at that, and he felt so close, too close. “Master, please…”

Obi-Wan hummed and then stood up, rubbing some lube on his cock and dropping the bottle carelessly. He leaned forward, biting and sucking on one of Anakin’s ears, seeming to be riding the reckless energy that was letting this all happen, as if afraid that if he stopped, he would never be able to start again.

“Please,” Anakin begged with a whisper, rocking his hips back in invitation. “Please.”

Obi-Wan replied by kissing down his neck, lining up the head of his cock, and then after one breathless moment, he pressed his hips forward, the head of his slick cock slipping inside the tight ring of muscle. They both froze, and Anakin opened his mouth with surprise and slight discomfort. Obi-Wan was so big. He looked back over his shoulder and whined loudly, and Obi-Wan just pushed inside deeper, a hand slapping over Anakin’s mouth to keep him quiet. 

“Very good, Anakin, you take me so well, dearest,” Obi-Wan said, voice raspy and very low, swallowing a groan of his own once he was fully buried inside. After an extended pause when he let Anakin adjust, his hips rolled forward, and he began to gently and relentlessly fuck Anakin into the wall, speeding up and increasing in force as Anakin just took it, whimpering loudly into his hand, pushing back against him, just like he’d practiced. 

It felt just so good, impossibly good, and he instinctively adjusted the angle of his hips and groaned loudly into Obi-Wan’s palm as Obi-Wan’s cock somehow slid even deeper inside, their hips meeting with a slap. Obi-Wan exhaled hard and pulled him closer against his chest, biting at his jawline and beginning to fuck him faster, careful to not be too loud. 

One thrust hit just right, and Anakin whimpered loudly, mouth falling open beneath Obi-Wan’s palm, eyes rolling back. Obi-Wan made a low noise of satisfaction and began intentionally aiming to stroke his cock against that too-perfect place inside him. Kriff. Anakin struggled to breathe, pleasure crackling up his spine, cock aching and leaking precome. I’m going to come, he thought worriedly in the bond, feeling so close. Don’t make me come yet!  

“Sensitive, are you?” Obi-Wan murmured against his neck, not sounding at all displeased. ”I knew you would be.”

Anakin just shuddered, his entire world compressed to the sensation of Obi-Wan’s thick cock fucking him in the ass. He didn’t want this to end, it couldn’t end yet. Master, please! 

Obi-Wan groaned and stopped moving, biting down on Anakin’s shoulder, catching his breath for a moment before pulling out. Anakin gasped at the sensation, his legs feeling weak, and Obi-Wan held him up, spinning him around, picking him up and standing between his spread thighs. He hastily lined up and shoved his cock in again, catching Anakin’s loud whimper with his mouth, kissing him to keep him quiet as he began to fuck him harder, crushing him into the wall. 

Anakin wrapped his arms around his neck, holding on tight. It was so perfect. This position didn’t overstimulate him the same way as the one before, and he was able to almost relax into the sensation of being held so securely in Obi-Wan’s strong, focused hold, and fucked so full of his cock. It was different than a using toy on himself—unpredictable, relentless, and perfect.

He felt like he was drowning in Obi-Wan’s intense gaze, and they were so close, he could feel his hot breath on his lips—his heart felt so full even though he knew it wasn’t allowed. He fought to keep his feelings inside, but he could feel them escaping down the bond. 

Anakin. Obi-Wan’s rough voice flooded his mind.

“Sorry,” Anakin gasped, blushing hard and closing his eyes. He focused on shutting down the bond. “Ignore me.”

“No,” Obi-Wan huffed, the pace of his hips slowing and his lips finding Anakin’s again, reassuring him. His mind was so warm, and it was like he needed him too. I could never do that, Anakin. I would never.

“Master,” Anakin whimpered, and he felt in the Force how the word pushed Obi-Wan up to the very edge—how good Anakin felt around his cock, how close he was. Obi-Wan, Anakin thought, unable to shape words with his mouth, Master, are you going to come inside me?

Obi-Wan groaned, his thrusts becoming rougher and less rhythmic, almost there. Do you want me to?

More than anything. Anakin kissed him, clenching down on him as best he could, hugging him tightly. Come in me, I want it. I need it, Master. Need you.

Obi-Wan groaned and buried himself inside one last time, his eyes squeezing shut, his face growing tight with pleasure. Anakin could feel his orgasm in the Force, like sunlight shining down the bond, coming in waves of Obi-Wan’s sense of overwhelming release. He kissed him, even though he wasn’t exactly capable of kissing him back, and almost came too based on bond feedback alone.

Obi-Wan’s eyes finally opened, and the look he gave Anakin was so impossibly fond, Anakin felt on the edge. He whined as Obi-Wan pulled out, and then made an incoherent, confused noise as Obi-Wan set him down and dropped back to his knees, putting one of Anakin’s legs over his shoulder to open him up, licking the slick shine of his come as it slid down his inner thigh, back up toward his oversensitive hole. 

“Master,” Anakin said brokenly, head thumping back hard against the tile, one hand jumping to Obi-Wan’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, seeking balance.

Obi-Wan hummed and wrapped one calloused hand around Anakin’s hard cock, gently jerking him off, kissing and licking his oversensitive rim. He looked up, his eyes encouraging and mischievous, so warm and bright. One last lick, and Anakin came so hard that he blinked away flecks of light, filling Obi-Wan’s palm until it dripped onto the tile floor.

Obi-Wan smiled at him, and let the water clean off his hand before turning off the shower. Anakin reached down for him, pulling him up, needing him closer. Kiss me.

Needy, Obi-Wan’s thoughts were pleasure-soaked, kissing him slowly, almost lazily. He threaded his fingers in Anakin’s wet hair and held him close. 

Anakin tried not to cling to him, and failed, his orgasm leaving him shaky and insecure. He didn’t want the moment to end, for Obi-Wan to lean back and step away, for his rational mind to return, his sense of duty. He would remember that Anakin loved him, and his face would grow cooler. Anakin would see regret, and he couldn’t see it.

Darling, don’t panic, be calm. Obi-Wan’s Force presence surrounded them both, acting like a silencing buffer between Anakin’s panic and the Temple at large. I love you too. I promise it will be okay.

Anakin whimpered. You don’t.

Obi-Wan tipped his head back, breaking the kiss and giving Anakin a wry look, his voice very quiet. “I think I’m the expert in my own feelings, Anakin.”

Anakin blinked at him, heart aching at the idea that maybe he did. He whispered, “Really?”

Obi-Wan pressed their foreheads together for a second and then stepped back. His face was serious, but warm, as his thoughts came across the bond. What I feel for you is love, Anakin, but it’s not attachment. I know I can’t keep you. You understand the difference between the two, right? I’ve tried very hard to teach you the difference.

Anakin swallowed, feeling like he was being quizzed. “Umm…”

Obi-Wan smiled at him and shook his head. We can talk about this later.

“Good,” Anakin sighed. His mind felt like it was coming back up to speed, and he gave Obi-Wan a concerned look, asking loudly in the bond, Did anyone see you come in here?

Obi-Wan went still, and then rubbed the back of his neck, slightly sheepish. I wasn’t really paying attention to that at the time. I don’t think so.

Anakin smirked at that, picking up his wet towel and wringing as much water from it as he could. Hope not. 

We’ll have to leave separately, Obi-Wan thought apologetically, wrapping his towel around his hips.

Seems wise. Anakin grinned, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms, ready to wait. Do you actually have a Council meeting? Or is that just an excuse you apparently feel free to use?

Obi-Wan adopted an offended expression. Of course I do. How dare you suggest otherwise. I would never do such a thing.

You don’t, then.

Obi-Wan smiled, and left.

Obi-Wan wanted to wring Quinlan’s neck, but what else was new.

Luckily the day was over, and the photoshoot was finished. It had been an extended exercise in restraint, and Obi-Wan was tired. He did not like modeling in general, much preferring to be on the other side of the camera, and be the one dressing the models instead. He was a fashion designer with his own label at this point, so even that was an increasingly rare occurrence.

He’d been roped into being in front of the camera by Jocasta Nu, the editor of Temple Fashion Book, an extremely prestigious yearly magazine. She was impossible to say no to, and he’d owed her several favors, all of which had been called in to get him to appear.

He’d had the first inkling that something was awry when he saw the name of the photographer. Fucking Quinlan Vos.  

Obi-Wan went way back with him, having been his roommate during his first year at Parsons. Quinlan had been his introduction to the ways large and small that New York differed from his native London. They were friends, but it had always been slightly tense when their personalities rubbed each other wrong. 

They’d nonetheless been frequent collaborators as they established themselves in their respective careers, Obi-Wan quickly gaining renown as a fashion designer and Quinlan as a photographer. They had both risen to the top of their fields, and Obi-Wan knew that scoring both of them had been a triumph for Jocasta—and a headache for him.  

The minute he’d arrived that morning at the hotel for the photoshoot, Obi-Wan understood that the whole thing was a setup specifically to fuck with him. He didn’t know what Quinlan had said to Jocasta, but she’d always had an inexplicable soft spot for the infuriating photographer. Quinlan had insisted that the boytoy theme was the editor's choice, but that seemed radically unlikely to Obi-Wan. 

No, this had all been revenge for Obi-Wan making Quinlan photograph his on-again-off-again girlfriend during a period when they were very much off-again, but that wasn’t Obi-Wan’s fault. Asajj Ventress had a particular fierceness about her that had been perfect for his collection that season.

Quinlan knew just what would bother him most too. Just because he hadn’t been dating in the years since his divorce from Satine, didn’t mean he needed to have that fact rubbed in his face. 

Obi-Wan sighed with frustration and slapped his watch back on his wrist. He hastily shrugged on his suit jacket and stepped into his shoes, hurrying through the process of getting back into his street clothes. He knew that he had to leave before Anakin, that they absolutely could not leave together. It was imperative for Obi-Wan’s sanity that he never see him again at all.  

His mind was flipping rapidly through all the raw pictures he’d seen on the monitor before he’d left to dress. The last set had been in the luxurious bathroom of the hotel suite, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hudson through sheer curtains. Obi-Wan had been in a suit and tie standing beside Anakin, who had been reclining lazily in the bath, wearing a white tank and underwear turned almost sheer by the water. 

Anakin was currently getting dry, and Obi-Wan was leaving—Quinlan had already teased him enough about how often in the photos it looked like Obi-Wan wanted to eat him alive. It wasn’t his fault that Quinlan had acquired a beautiful boy, exactly Obi-Wan’s type, like he’d been designed for him specifically in a laboratory, put him in suggestive clothing, and then directed Obi-Wan to act like they were a couple, all for the shoot, of course.  

The real problem with the pictures to Obi-Wan wasn’t actually the somewhat predatory, possessive gleam he noticed in his own eyes in some of the shots. The real problem was the look on Anakin’s face, how his eyes shone—bright, curious, needy. His expression was so open and vulnerable, looking at Obi-Wan like he was the most interesting and important person he’d ever seen. 

He’d freely admitted he’d never modeled before, that Quinlan had recruited him off the street for this photoshoot. The fact that he did a phenomenal job shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel so proud of him, but he did. He’d coached him through everything as best he could, using instruction about the craft as a way to avoid actual, personal small talk. 

Anakin had drunk in his words and adapted to them intuitively. His natural athleticism seemed to make him highly aware of the arrangement of his body, and he had some sort of naive talent about noting the way the clothes hung on him, the position of the camera and the correct facial expression to hold. He scarcely needed any real guidance, but he kept looking to Obi-Wan for it, and it had felt too good to give it to him. 

The entire day had been filled by Quinlan with mostly domestic activities. He’d put Anakin lounging beside Obi-Wan in pajamas at the breakfast bar, wistful and yearning, or Anakin curled on the bed, invitation clear in his eyes. There had been shots of Obi-Wan leading Anakin by the hand across the street, a shopping bag in Anakin’s free hand, heavy as if Obi-Wan were spoiling him. It all created a false narrative of intimacy—it made Obi-Wan stomach twist with an emotion he refused to label.

In between all that domesticity, there were even worse poses for Obi-Wan’s sanity: the series of pictures of Anakin kneeling at Obi-Wan’s feet, looking up and tugging needily on his belt, or the shots of Obi-Wan grabbing a bashful Anakin by the shirt as if to drag him close, or Anakin shirtless in a diamond choker, almost like a collar, standing behind him in the bathroom, meeting his gaze in the mirror, his eyes so soft as Obi-Wan adjusted the sleeves of his blazer. 

Obi-Wan had seen the pictures, seen how there’d been something possessive and demanding in his eyes. He could both acknowledge in abstract that they were excellent photographs for the magazine and simultaneously be terribly embarrassed about it all. He checked in briefly with Quinlan, getting confirmation that the day was over and receiving a shit-eating grin, and rolled his eyes, leaving quickly.

He had made it almost all the way down the hallway toward the bank of elevators before he heard a door slam and hurried footsteps behind him. He sighed, dreading the inevitable. Anakin was hurrying to catch up, his curly hair still slightly damp and skin flushed. He was going to ask for more from Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan was determined that he had nothing more to give. He wouldn’t take advantage of Anakin, who hadn’t known about the subtext of the photoshoot, how he was being used in a scheme. It would be wrong.

He pushed the button for the elevator and wished that it wouldn’t be hideously impolite to run away to the stairs instead, avoiding this conversation. He was still considering it—they were only on the 19th floor, that wasn’t too far to walk down, right? He could always take the stairs down one level, then call the elevator after Anakin had certainly left, and how cowardly was that?

Anakin slid to a halt beside him, breathing slightly hard as they waited together for the elevator. Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan could see his dark jeans and soft black henley, how it stretched over his broad shoulders and clung to his strong arms, his narrow waist. He pulled out his phone and directed his attention to his email instead. He’d stared at Anakin’s body enough that day, too much for his sanity—he could see it with his eyes closed. 

“Obi-Wan?” 

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, seeing a notification of a text from Quinlan and ignoring it with an annoyed swipe. Even Anakin’s voice was alluring, incongruously soft and melodic. “Yes?” 

“I was wondering if—”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, cutting him off. Time for all the small talk he’d avoided all day. “Quinlan said he scouted you off the street while you were playing basketball, not through a modeling agency. Is that true?”

Anakin seemed slightly wrongfooted. “Yes, he did. Are you—”

“What’s your day job?”

“I’m a mechanic,” Anakin shrugged. “Can we—”

“Do you live in the city?”

“Brooklyn. Can I—”

Obi-Wan cut him off relentlessly. “Are you from here originally?”

“Arizona,” Anakin said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Obi-Wan, what—”

Obi-Wan gave up, and shot him an exasperated look. “No, Anakin.”

Anakin closed his mouth with a snap, and Obi-Wan absolutely did not look at his pink, plush bottom lip as he pouted. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

The elevator made a quiet ding, signaling its arrival. Thank Christ. “I have a guess. And the answer is no.”

Obi-Wan gestured out toward the open elevator door with a sweeping hand, letting Anakin enter first. He followed after, looking anywhere but the curve of Anakin’s ass, which he’d already become far too familiar with in just one day. He pushed the lobby button with slightly too much force and braced himself as Anakin opened his mouth again. 

“Are you in a relationship?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You aren’t,” Anakin said, too knowingly, and tipped his head to the side. “Are you actually straight? Ace?”

“It really doesn’t matter.”

“So, you aren’t.”

Obi-Wan intently studied the small panel above the rows of buttons that displayed the floor numbers slowly decreasing. He didn’t actually know what to say. He didn’t have a good reason to say no, except that it felt like he shouldn’t say yes. 

Anakin huffed and crossed his arms, the shirt pulling tight on his shoulders. “Then why can’t we?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed and finally really looked over at him, making eye contact and feeling a twist low in his stomach at Anakin’s wide, sky blue eyes, his slightly flushed cheeks with their high, sharp cheekbones. “You’re too… too young for me.”

“That’s it?” Anakin exclaimed, posture straightening with indignation. “The fact that I’m 20?”

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan said flatly. He didn’t appreciate how he had to look up slightly to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I’m 36, Anakin. I’m so much older than you. Doesn’t that bother you? It really should.”

Anakin’s cheeks darkened and he dropped his head slightly, looking down and muttering. “Bother isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

The admission filled Obi-Wan with such an intense pulse of want for the man in front of him that it almost hurt, his cock twitched, betraying him. No, he was better than this. His voice came out low and forbidding. “Anakin…”

Anakin winced, and withdrew half a step, making Obi-Wan aware of just how close he’d been standing before, far, far too close. He could still smell Anakin’s fresh scent lingering in the space he’d left behind.

“You really don’t want me? It was really all… acting?” Anakin sounded so wounded. “I thought…”

Obi-Wan devoutly wished it had been acting; the fact that his words were sparking insecurity in Anakin cut him deep. He didn’t want to hurt him, at all, ever. He returned his eyes to the elevator display panel. Ten, eight…

He cleared his throat and shot a look sideways, simultaneously awkward and regretful. “You are very handsome, Anakin. You’re just… very young. I don’t—” 

Between heartbeats, the elevator abruptly stopped its rapid descent, and all light was extinguished. Obi-Wan stumbled back into the wall in the dark, his stomach lurching at the unexpected, jolting shift in momentum. 

“What the hell?” Anakin muttered in confusion.

Dim emergency lights flickered on, and Obi-Wan’s gaze immediately met Anakin’s, sharing their mutual confusion and concern. Obi-Wan turned to the panel and pushed the call button, but it was dead. “That must mean there’s a power outage, right?”

Anakin shrugged, looking around speculatively. “Do we just wait?”

“What exactly would you propose as an alternative?”

“Trying to get out?”

Obi-Wan made an affronted face at the idea, and pulled out his phone. He exhaled hard with relief at seeing that he had service. “I’m going to call the hotel.”

“Oh, alright then. You do that. I’m still going to try the door.”

“Be my guest.” 

Obi-Wan googled the hotel’s phone number, very aware despite himself of the way the sculpted muscles of Anakin’s arms and back strained his shirt as he prised open the doors a couple inches. He sighed with disappointment when he was able to see only concrete on the other side with a six inch sliver of light at the bottom—they were in between floors, with no way out. 

The hotel front desk finally picked up, and Obi-Wan barely had to begin to explain when the receptionist assured him that the elevator company was already informed and en route; it was a localized electrical failure, but they were in no danger. He could feel Anakin watching him like an itch he couldn’t scratch, his skin tingling under the heat of his stare. 

It was infuriating that even in the dim light, Anakin’s eyes were so bright, his tan skin still almost glowing with health and vitality. His curly hair seemed too dark though, without the sun reflecting back gold, and that felt wrong— Anakin belonged under the sun, he was so beautiful, lithe and strong, intense and sweet.  

Obi-Wan heard words in his ear but did not process them, and then shook his head to clear it, refocusing on the receptionist. “Pardon, can you repeat that? It’ll be an hour?” He swallowed, dread coiling inside. “No sooner?”

The receptionist sounded very frazzled. “Yes, sir, unless the fire department evacuates you through the top of the car, which, unless there is an emergency…”

“No, no. No emergency.” A personal crisis didn’t require actual professional rescue. “Do you have my number on your caller ID? Yes? Call me back with any updates when they become available. Thank you.” He hung up, and let his posture slump somewhat, accepting what he’d heard with no small amount of reluctance.

“So… an hour?”

Obi-Wan nodded confirmation and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. He looked down at his phone when it buzzed, and angrily texted back Quinlan, who was currently making his way down the stairs and laughing at Obi-Wan’s predicament. Obi-Wan should have taken the stairs, politeness be damned. 

It was deafeningly quiet, the absence of sound almost ringing. He was completely alone with Anakin, with no escape. It was a scenario worse than Obi-Wan had been able to imagine in advance, which was rare. He felt so painfully aware of the confined space, the proximity of their bodies, the fact that they were alone.  

He resolutely opened his mail app and was about to reply to an email from his PA when Anakin huffed, apparently coming to some kind of internal decision. He stepped closer with a hopeful, intense look on his face. “I have an idea about what we could do while we wait.”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and he stared down at his phone, ignoring him as best he could. “No, Anakin.”

“Why not? There’s nobody else here. The cameras are dead. I want to. You want to. What’s stopping you?”

Anakin was getting closer, too close—the rapidly narrowing space between them felt increasingly charged with electricity. His face was so earnest, so hungry. “I’ve been dying all day wanting to.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to keep it clear. “I already told you why not. This… this inconvenience changes nothing.”

“Why not? You just said you thought I was ‘very handsome,’” he mimicked Obi-Wan’s accent without much success.  

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, exasperated. “I don’t sleep around. I don’t sleep with models. I stopped doing that a long time ago.” 

“Good!”

Obi-Wan frowned and looked up at the incorrect reaction to his words. “What?”

Anakin’s expression would have been the same if he was laying down a winning hand of cards at a high stakes poker game. “I’m not a model, Obi-Wan!”

“You are,” Obi-Wan said slowly, eyes flicking around the sharp lines of Anakin’s frame, his long, lean body, his incongruously soft mouth. He really was.

“I’m not!”

“You are.” Obi-Wan pulled his eyes away from Anakin’s lips, furious with himself for getting stuck there again, but they would just look so good wrapped around his cock. He shifted slightly, trying not to actually get hard. “If you think that you won’t get work after the shoot today, you’re mistaken. You’re about to become very busy, very quickly.” 

“What?” Anakin looked slightly alarmed, and it was so cute. “Why?”

“Anakin, darling,” the pet name slipped out without permission, and Anakin didn’t miss it, his lips parting with a sharp exhale, his eyes fluttering closed. Obi-Wan forced himself to keep talking. “Didn’t you wonder why the pay for one day’s work was so good? Your first appearance is an editorial in one of the most prestigious fashion magazines.”

“Oh,” Anakin breathed. He opened his eyes again, and the pupils were blown wide, the black almost engulfing the blue. He was so close, too close.

Obi-Wan swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. “Everyone…” His voice came out raspier than he wanted it to, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Everyone who matters in fashion will see those pictures, and believe me, they’ll notice you.” 

“Me?” 

The genuine, naive surprise in Anakin’s voice—how unaware he seemed to be of his beauty and talent—was so endearing to Obi-Wan. He already felt so impossibly fond of him, so protective and proud after just a day. They could never see each other again, or he’d never let him go.

“Yes, you.” 

“Everyone?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan repeated gently. 

“But…” Anakin trailed off and bit his lip, as though trying to keep words back. 

Obi-Wan sighed. “But, what?”

Anakin spoke quickly, the forward momentum of his enthusiasm bringing him ever closer. “I’m still not a model right now, even if you are right, which I’m sure you are, which is crazy, but right now, I’m a mechanic, Obi-Wan! You know that. Do you have rules against mechanics sucking you off?”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and released it. “I don’t do casual things like that anymore, Anakin. We want different things.” 

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “Do we? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan laughed, gesturing up and down Anakin’s lanky body. “You’re 20.” 

“So what?” Anakin kept closing the gap between them as though pulled in magnetically, and it felt like it was eliminating all the oxygen from the small space. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He gently pushed Anakin back by the shoulders and then dropped his hands. “You should be… socializing with people your own age.”

“Socializing?” Anakin scoffed, indignant at being moved away, at Obi-Wan’s words. “Is that what you did when you were 20?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, slightly nonplussed.

“Well, I’m not you! I don’t socialize.” 

“Why not? You very easily could.” 

“Why would I want to?” Anakin’s face was a very endearing mix of baffled and disgusted. “I don’t just hook up with people.”

Obi-Wan barked a laugh, overwhelmed at the irony. “What are you attempting to do right now?” 

Anakin scowled defensively. “That’s not the same at all.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, curious, and a flash of pain came and went like lightning on Anakin’s face, moving so quickly that Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it in the low light. “Anakin?”

“I didn’t…” Anakin’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t think you’d actually want me for anything else, anything serious or real, but I wanted everything we did today to be real, so I was…” he swallowed, looking back at his feet. “I was trying to get anything I could before you disappeared forever.”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan didn’t have a good reply. 

“I understand why you wouldn’t want me, you’re… and I’m nobody, but maybe, maybe could I have your phone number?” All of Anakin’s false bravado was gone, and he looked so very shy and insecure, like he was doubting himself, his worth. “Please?”

Somehow the simple word, perhaps the earnest way it was said, the genuine need in his eyes, whatever it was—it was enough, breaking through all the walls that Obi-Wan was trying so hard to keep in place. Maybe he could keep him, maybe it wouldn’t hurt, at least to try. 

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Okay, yes. We can try.”

“Really?” Anakin’s eyes widened with surprise, like he couldn’t believe he’d actually succeeded in his entreaty, and then his lips curled up in a wide, bright smile.

Obi-Wan lifted a hand to adjust a damp curl that was slightly out of place on Anakin’s forehead, and Anakin pushed his head into his touch. Obi-Wan felt that pang of fondness again, and gave into it instead of fighting it, cupping Anakin’s face and stroking his sharp cheekbone with his thumb. He was so beautiful.

“Shall we get dinner when we get freed? It’ll probably be well past time.” 

Anakin looked at him mischievously, and his growing happiness was radiant and infectious. “Do you have food at your place?”

The implications of those words flashed through Obi-Wan’s mind, the promise of them. He swallowed a groan and dropped his hand, his palm feeling scalded. “You really shouldn’t be so quick to go home with strangers.”

Anakin laughed dismissively, and Obi-Wan frowned. “You don’t really know me, Anakin.” 

Anakin came even closer until they were almost chest to chest, their mouths so close. His proximity was overwhelming, the scent of him. Instead of kissing him like Obi-Wan expected, Anakin tucked his face into the hollow where Obi-Wan’s neck met his shoulder, inhaling deeply and humming with satisfaction. “Yes, I do.”

Obi-Wan’s hands reflexively jumped to hold Anakin’s slim hips, squeezing tight in rebuke. “You are far too trusting.” 

Anakin’s breath was hot against his neck, his voice a low murmur. “I’m really not. I know how to read people, Obi-Wan. I can sense danger better than you know.”

Obi-Wan slid his hands up to Anakin’s waist, pushing him back and seeking eye contact. “What? Why?”

Anakin’s eyes were so dark, his cheeks so flushed. “I grew up… I just know how to tell, ok? I know you’re not a threat. Can I suck your cock now?”

“What?” Obi-Wan felt another almost painful spike of desire. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Please?” Anakin’s eyes flicked down, and he bit his lip. “I want to so bad.”

All the blood was leaving Obi-Wan’s brain, and his last coherent thought was an anxious idea of being discovered in a compromising position. He shook his head, his voice rough and low. “We don’t actually know when the elevator will be operational again.” 

“I’ll hurry.” 

“I don’t want to hurry with you. I’d much rather take my time.” 

Anakin groaned with frustration. “Obi-Wan, please, I need—”

Obi-Wan grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him close, finally, finally kissing him. It felt like such an overwhelming relief, the unbridgeable gap between them finally closed, the entire day’s worth of tension released. He tipped his head to the side, their lips sliding together slowly, maddeningly, and Anakin whimpered, swaying into him. 

Obi-Wan caught him and held him close, one arm wrapping around his back, the other hand rising and cupping the back of his head, fingers digging into the tangled, damp mess of curls. The initial, almost chaste kiss was rapidly escalating into something filthy as Obi-Wan lost himself in the soft pressure of Anakin’s infuriating mouth. 

Anakin kissed him back cautiously at first, and then eagerly, letting Obi-Wan lick between his lips and taste his mouth, coffee mixed with something indefinable, something quintessentially Anakin that made his cock ache. Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan turned them around, pushing Anakin’s back against the wall with a thump. Anakin moaned with satisfaction and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s back, spreading his legs slightly and pulling Obi-Wan close enough to stand between them.

Obi-Wan was rapidly becoming intoxicated with arousal, kissing Anakin was so perfectly addictive. He eventually had to pull away for air, but was unable to go far, kissing fervently beneath Anakin’s jaw and down his long neck. His neck had been driving him insane all day—it felt so good to explore the soft, warm skin with his mouth. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, breathless and exhilarated, and Obi-Wan returned to his lips, kissing him deeply. Anakin whined and rocked against him, his cock so hard that Obi-Wan could feel his erection through his jeans. 

He bit Anakin’s bottom lip and sucked, letting it slide out between his teeth as he pulled his head back. Anakin stared at him, his mouth open and so wet. He looked so impossibly aroused, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile. “You’re already so hard.”

Anakin scowled at him, growling low in this throat, and it was the cutest thing Obi-Wan had ever seen. “Of course I am. I spent half the day in agony every time you looked at me, let alone touched me.” 

Obi-Wan smirked. “That’s rather dramatic.”

“It’s how it felt! Do you know how hard it was not to get hard in front of the camera when you touched me?”

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said dryly, pressing his hips forward to drag his own hard cock against Anakin’s, making Anakin toss his head back and moan loudly. “I have some idea.”

“How can you be so calm?” Anakin asked, breathy and indignant as Obi-Wan pulled his hips back. “You’re just as hard as me.”

“I’m patient.”

“Well, I’m not! I want…” He looked down at the visible length of Obi-Wan’s cock in his trousers. “Please, let me… let me see…”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You want to see my cock?”

Anakin blushed, his eyes still fixed down. “It… it’s big and… I could tell it was big. I can feel that it is. I want to see.” He pushed Obi-Wan back and sank to his knees, his hands jumping to Obi-Wan’s belt. “I want to suck it so bad.”

Obi-Wan had a strong sense of deja vu, except this time he allowed Anakin to actually unfasten and open his belt, instead of just pretending for the camera. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, here, now—but nothing mattered except getting Anakin’s mouth on his cock. Finally.

Anakin paused with his fingers poised to unfasten Obi-Wan’s trousers and looked up for permission. It made Obi-Wan’s cock throb, and he stroked Anakin’s upturned face, his fingers coming to press down on his bottom lip. “You’ve been biting your lips all day. Is that what you were thinking about all that time?”

“You noticed that?” Anakin asked, cringing slightly.

Obi-Wan huffed a quiet laugh. “It was rather distracting.”

“Sorry,” Anakin whispered, looking down and away with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

Obi-Wan’s hand curled around to cup his chin, tipping his face back up. “It’s really not your fault, Anakin. I would have been looking at your mouth anyway.”

Anakin licked his lips, eyes so wide. “Yeah?”

“You have the kind of lips that give people ideas, darling.” 

“Oh,” Anakin smiled shyly. His hands returned to tentatively unfasten Obi-Wan’s trousers. “I can’t believe you were really thinking about this too. I mean I’d hoped, obviously, that’s what the look in your eyes meant, but…”

Obi-Wan exhaled hard as Anakin carefully reached between the fabric, fingertips brushing against his sensitive length. Anakin made a low, incredulous noise as he pulled Obi-Wan’s cock free, the expression on his face slightly dumb. “It’s really big.”

“It’s not that big,” Obi-Wan said fondly, “but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Biggest I’ve seen,” Anakin shrugged, still focused intently, his mouth so close to where Obi-Wan wanted it most. He could feel Anakin’s hot breath on his skin. He reached down to pet Anakin’s hair, and Anakin looked up with a hint of worry. “Tell me if I do anything wrong?”

“What?”

Anakin wrapped his fingers carefully around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock, leaning forward to kiss the head, licking it experimentally before pulling back. The expression on his face was probably similar to one that he would give to a broken engine, as if he were trying to identify the faulty part. “It can’t be too hard. I know what I like when I get blown.” 

The idea of someone else doing this to Anakin bothered Obi-Wan. “You’ve gotten head but not given it?”

Anakin laughed at him and then spat into his free hand, spreading saliva up and down Obi-Wan’s hard length. The warmth and pressure of his hand was good, the wet slide of it was very good. “I’ve only ever been with women, one woman, actually, my ex, and she didn’t exactly have one.”

Obi-Wan blinked twice, and then his cock leaked precome that Anakin licked curiously. “No men? Really?” Anakin shrugged, and Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it. “Has anyone even fucked you before?”

Anakin shook his head, and then pushed forward, letting the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock slide between his lips. He sucked gently, exploring with his tongue, and the hand that Obi-Wan had been using to pet his curls grabbed on for stability. It felt so good. It had been far too long since anyone had done this, he’d forgotten how good it could be.

Anakin made a low noise as his hair was tugged and pulled his head back, looking up with concern. “Okay?”

Obi-Wan exhaled shakily. “More than, yes.”

Anakin smiled proudly and got back to work, taking Obi-Wan slightly deeper the second time, his lips pressing gently as his head bobbed up and down. Obi-Wan was worryingly close to coming already, the experience of actually seeing Anakin’s pink lips wrapped around his cock was better than he’d imagined it would be. 

Anakin’s bright eyes flicked up to meet his, and Obi-Wan groaned, hand tightening its grip on his hair. Anakin hummed with satisfaction, and Obi-Wan was only able to stop himself from fucking deeper into Anakin’s mouth with all his years of experience and the last shred of his restraint—and even that was close. “So good, darling.”

Anakin popped off his cock to breathe, his hand sliding up and down, spreading saliva and driving Obi-Wan closer and closer to the edge. “It’s nice.”

“What is?”

“This,” Anakin smiled, and licked the head of his cock, tasting Obi-Wan’s precome again and humming happily. “I like doing it.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan said faintly, and groaned as Anakin sucked him in even deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of Anakin’s throat for the first time and making him choke. Obi-Wan felt a surge of concern. “Be careful. That can take practice.”

Anakin pulled off to cough and then grin, eyes bright with joy. “Promise?”

“Sure,” Obi-Wan tugged on his curls fondly, and Anakin tried again, more careful and deliberate this time, letting Obi-Wan’s cock press down on his tongue and then slide deeper inside his wet heat. He was apparently as much a natural at sucking cock as he was at modeling, intuitively covering his teeth and relaxing his jaw. He was so perfect. How was he real?

Obi-Wan noticed that Anakin’s free hand was palming his own hard cock through his pants and he scoffed. “Are you trying to come in your jeans?”

Anakin popped off and gave Obi-Wan a playful glare, the hand that had been wrapped around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock jerking him quickly to keep up the maddening pressure that was driving Obi-Wan closer and closer to the edge. Anakin grumbled, “it’s really, really hot to see and touch you like this, I can’t not touch myself. I’m dying.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head. “Keep your hands off yourself. Unless you want to come in your pants.” 

Anakin grumbled and took his hand off his cock, lifting it to rest on Obi-Wan’s thigh instead for support and sucking his cock even deeper inside. Obi-Wan groaned as more and more of his length was buried inside Anakin’s mouth. He wove his fingers through the fingers of the hand that Anakin was resting on his leg, holding his hand and squeezing tight. “You’re doing a very, very good job.” 

Anakin whimpered, squeezing back and bobbing his head up and down faster, his plush lips pressed tight around Obi-Wan’s cock, sucking gently on the head. His mouth was so wet and hot, the pressure so perfect, and Obi-Wan felt so close. Anakin on his knees was perfect. He was so beautiful, so intent and focused; it was sweet, impossibly sweet of him.

“I’m going to come.”

Anakin moaned in approval. He popped off to breathe and gasped loudly for air, his hand moving quickly on his length to cover the absence, his wrist twisting gently as he jerked Obi-Wan off. He looked up coyly. “Come in my mouth. No mess.”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, incredulous and dumb on the edge of orgasm. “You might not enjoy the taste.”

Anakin just rolled his eyes and pushed his head forward again, his jaw relaxing, letting Obi-Wan’s cock slide down to hit the back of his throat. The pressure felt incredible, and it only increased as Anakin pushed his head closer, taking it deeper. How was he already this good at this? How was he a natural at everything he tried? How was he so perfect?  

“Anakin…” 

Anakin looked up and met his eyes, and his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with desire. He squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand tight in encouragement, and all of a sudden—Obi-Wan came. His eyes slid closed involuntarily as pleasure released up his spine and flooded his brain. He tipped his head back and groaned, his come spilling into Anakin’s mouth in hot pulses. 

Anakin swallowed it all, humming with satisfaction and pride. Obi-Wan blinked down at him hazily, at this inexplicable, perfect man on his knees before him. His cock was so wet with Anakin’s saliva as it slid out of his mouth, oversensitive and spent. Anakin’s lips were so pink and swollen, and he lazily wiped the remaining spit and come from his chin with the back of his hand, and then beamed up at Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan recovered from his orgasm for a moment, slightly unsteady, and then tucked himself away, fastening his trousers. He pulled Anakin up from his knees, and was about to kiss him when Anakin pulled his head back, eyes full of teasing concern. “My mouth tastes like come. You might not enjoy—”

Obi-Wan laughed and cut him off with a kiss which was lazy and slow until he noticed that Anakin was squirming, clearly aching with need. He pulled back to evaluate, smiling when Anakin looked like he might begin begging at any moment. He really would be easy to get off, so eager and close already.  

Obi-Wan checked his watch, glad that still they had plenty of time. He didn’t want to risk discovery doing anything too elaborate, as the idea of that made him shudder in a bad way. He reminded himself that he’d have plenty more time to really appreciate Anakin when he fucked him at home in his bed—but he still wanted to see him and satisfy the curiosity about his body that had been eating at him all day. 

“Shall I return the favor?”

Anakin looked alarmed. “What? You? I would come in like two seconds if your mouth got anywhere near my—”

Obi-Wan laughed at him kindly. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” Anakin spluttered, and Obi-Wan stroked his cheek in reassurance. “If you come quickly, I would take that as a compliment, dear one, not an indication of anything wrong on your part.”

“That’s… that’s a really kind way of looking at it.” Anakin shook his head bashfully. “You don’t need to.”

“Need to? No, of course not. Want to?” Obi-Wan kissed him again gently. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Anakin muttered, cheeks so red. “Just promise not to judge when I—”

“May I look at you first?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin broke off speaking, visibly confused. Obi-Wan let his hands slide down Anakin’s back to grab his ass, squeezing gently. Anakin squeaked, his eyes widening, and Obi-Wan grinned. “It won’t take more than a moment, but I’ve been unable to think of much else all day. May I see you?”

Anakin looked halfway between terrified and thrilled, his breathing fast and shallow. “If you want, I guess, sure, of course.”

Obi-Wan kissed him and reached for the button of his jeans, and Anakin whined loudly when he brushed against his cock. He slid Anakin’s jeans off his hips, bringing his black boxer briefs down too—so much black, this lovely boy apparently only wore black, for some reason. He’d look good in any color, maybe burgundy, or olive green, or…  

Obi-Wan’s work brain turned off again when Anakin gasped sweetly. His cock had finally been pulled free, and it bounced forward. Obi-Wan stroked its hard length fondly; it was flushed and leaking, and Obi-Wan suspected there was a rather large spot wet with precome in his pants. He must have really liked blowing him.

“Turn to face the wall,” Obi-Wan said, voice deep and quiet. Anakin obeyed immediately, and Obi-Wan moved to stand behind him. He ran his fingers down Anakin’s long spine, noting the shudder that his light touch caused, his attention fixing finally on the soft, pale curves of Anakin’s unbelievably perfect ass. “Bend forward for me.” 

Anakin looked back over his shoulder hesitantly. “What?” 

Obi-Wan kissed his neck reassuringly. “I want to look at you. Put your hands on the wall and bend forward.” 

“Okay,” Anakin blushed as he obeyed. “Like this?” 

“Perfect, darling, you’re perfect.” Anakin whimpered, and Obi-Wan knelt down behind him, stroking up the soft, golden skin of his inner thighs. His legs and ass were so beautiful. “Can you spread your legs?” 

Anakin obediently slid his feet wider, as best he could with his pants around his knees, his back arching slightly. His cock became visible between his legs, balls high and tight, and Obi-Wan grabbed and squeezed the soft muscle of his ass, cupping and spreading him until his perfect, pink hole was visible. He was just like Obi-Wan had pictured in his mind—the skin of his entrance was almost the same color as his lips. 

“Why are you?” Anakin whined incredulously as Obi-Wan remained still for a moment, studying him in his most private place and committing it to memory. “What are—”

Obi-Wan wet two of his fingers in his mouth and cut Anakin off, brushing a light touch between his legs, teasingly stroking the sensitive skin. He circled and pressed on Anakin’s tight entrance, imagining what it would be like to open him up slowly. He murmured, both to himself and to reassure Anakin. “You are so beautiful.”

Anakin groaned incredulously, his head clunking forward to rest against the wall and his hips rocking back into Obi-Wan’s hand as best he could, seeking the pressure of his touch. Obi-Wan took his hand away, and Anakin whined in protest. “No, don’t stop, that was nice, I liked it.” 

Obi-Wan gently turned him around by the hips and pushed him back until his back hit the wall. Anakin allowed him to move him however he wanted, staring down at him, wide eyed and panting. Obi-Wan sucked the tip of Anakin’s cock into his mouth, and Anakin groaned loudly, his eyes rolling back, hands jumping to Obi-Wan’s head before yanking them away.

Obi-Wan popped off his cock and smiled up at him. “You can, if you would like.” 

Anakin just whimpered and nodded quickly, and Obi-Wan leaned forward again, spitting on his cock and sucking it gently. Anakin groaned, and Obi-Wan’s hand slid around to stroke his fingers against Anakin’s hole, pressing against it, rubbing but not slipping inside. Anakin’s hands jumped to tangle in Obi-Wan’s hair again for balance. “Holy fuck.”

Obi-Wan hummed, looking up to see Anakin’s flushed cheeks, his incredulous eyes. He stroked harder on his hole, swallowing Anakin’s cock deeper in his mouth at the same time a finger slipped just inside the tight heat of his body, and Anakin groaned loudly as he immediately came, his head curling forward, face tight. 

Obi-Wan swallowed his come, and then sat back on his heels, wiping the evidence of what he’d done out of his mustache and beard. Anakin just stared down at him, his eyes hazy, mouth open wide. “Wow.”

Obi-Wan smiled fondly and sat back on the elevator floor, his five thousand dollar suit be damned, and scooted to lean against the wall. Anakin sloppily pulled up his pants and then slid down the wall, sitting down with a thump. He looked both astonished and terribly embarrassed. “I warned you I wouldn’t last long. That felt really good.” 

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan laughed. He swallowed again, trying to get the taste of come out of his mouth as much as he could. “I do hope we get rescued soon.”

“Yeah,” Anakin agreed and made a face. “I want to rinse my mouth.”

“I told you—”

Anakin shook his head quickly. “I don’t regret it at all. It’s just… not the nicest now.”

Obi-Wan laughed and lifted an arm in invitation. “Come here.”

Anakin slid over and leaned against him, and Obi-Wan wove their fingers together again, holding his hand and squeezing it gently. Anakin exhaled hard with satisfaction, relaxing against his side. The elevator was quiet, but it was not awkward. Obi-Wan’s phone buzzed and he checked the name. He read the message and scoffed loudly.

“What?”

“Quinlan assumes that we've hooked up by now, and he thinks he deserves credit for finding you.”

Anakin shrugged. “He’s not exactly wrong.”

“No,” Obi-Wan squeezed his hand and put his phone away. “He’s not. To say you’re my type is an understatement, Anakin.”

Anakin leaned his head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder and sighed happily. “Yeah?”

“I’m not surprised he offered you a job off the street when he saw you. This whole photoshoot was designed by him to mess with me because he knows me too well.” 

Anakin barked a laugh. “Really?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted, slightly embarrassed. “I haven’t dated in years now. You’re exactly right for me, and he wanted to rub that in my face.” 

“Well, whatever the reason. I’m glad he did.” 

“Me too, darling. Me too.” 

Obi-Wan was already looking at the jail roster online when his phone rang. Anakin hadn’t come home the night before, and Obi-Wan knew from experience that the hospital wouldn’t hesitate to call in the middle of the night, so he probably wasn’t there. The jail, on the other hand… He unlocked his phone and lifted it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Obi-Wan?” A slightly annoyed female voice sounded out the syllables of his name slowly. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “Is Anakin there?”

“Oh,” the woman sounded taken aback. “Yes, your… brother… is here.”

Obi-Wan heard a familiar voice in the background, barely loud enough for the speaker to pick up. “He’s not my brother!”

“Where is here?” Obi-Wan asked with a deep sigh, checking his watch. 8:15. “Probation?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding like the conversation was not going at all how she expected it to go.

“Municipal or District?”

“District.”

He’d been in Tatooine again, then.

Obi-Wan put the phone between his ear and his shoulder and began composing a quick email to his secretary about rescheduling his morning appointments. It was a light day, and it hopefully wouldn’t be an issue. “Tell him I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Thank you.”

“No problem,” she sounded relieved the conversation was over quickly. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” Obi-Wan said with routine politeness, and hung up. He dropped his phone on the table next to his laptop, and put his face in his hands, pressing on his eyes for a long moment before getting up and grabbing his keys. District probation. Fantastic. Maybe they’d actually include house arrest in his release conditions this time.

Qui-Gon had said that Anakin was spiraling, and he had not been exaggerating. When Obi-Wan got the phone call requesting help, he accepted Qui-Gon’s proposition at once. It had been a tragic hit and run accident that had left his step-father a widower for a second time. He was struggling with his grief, and Obi-Wan’s heart ached for him. He’d been so strong for Obi-Wan during Tahl’s cancer, and he’d loved Shmi so much…

He wanted to go to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage that would take many weeks on foot, and Anakin had refused to go with him. Qui-Gon didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone— it was technically the spring semester of his sophomore year of college, but he’d dropped all his courses. He was doing exactly nothing productive or healthy, just laying by the pool, riding his motorcycle, and getting in fights.

He had adjusted to having an amputated right arm easily enough after the accident, the physical therapy included in his usual workout routine. He remained just as muscled, lean, and handsome as ever, his daily life was minimally impacted by that; the problem wasn’t physical, but psychological. 

Obi-Wan was extremely worried about him, which added an extra edge to being so continually and totally frustrated by his disrespectful and risky behavior. He was getting more and more irresponsible, and the severity of his crimes was mounting. Obi-Wan brooded as he fought through morning rush hour traffic to get to the jail and parked in the jury duty lot. He’d be quick, it’d be fine.

He found Anakin sitting outside the jail, smoking while sitting on a non-smoking bench, with a black eye and knuckles scraped like he’d gotten in a fight. Resisting arrest charge too, then. It was impossibly frustrating to Obi-Wan how handsome he still was under the bruising, his sharp cheekbones and strong jawline, long-lashed eyes and pouting mouth.  

It had been the first surprise when he’d arrived in Coruscant— Anakin was far from the little boy that he remembered tagging along with Shmi at his graduation from law school. He hadn’t come back for Christmas in years, always too busy with Satine's family, and he’d felt bad, but he hadn’t realized how long it had been…  

Sitting in the morning light, the man on the bench seemed to glow, his messy curls almost a halo. His motorcycle jacket made his shoulders seem extra wide, and the black leather only drew attention to the tanned skin of his long neck. He had no right to look like that after a night in jail. He shouldn’t have spent a night in jail. Anakin was brilliant. He should know better than this.

Obi-Wan came to a stop in front of him, and Anakin looked up slowly, his eyes sliding from Obi-Wan’s shoes and up his jeans, lingering on his beige sweater, before finally meeting his eyes. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Put that out.”

Anakin took a drag and exhaled through his teeth. “I’m not finished yet.”

“Now,” Obi-Wan said, his tone final. He removed the cigarette from between Anakin’s lips, and crushed it beneath his heel. “Let’s go.” 

Anakin scowled at him and stood up to his full height, as if determined to look down on Obi-Wan from his extra two inches. Obi-Wan just rolled his eyes and turned toward the street, striding quickly back toward his car. He heard Anakin sigh and follow after him, his tread heavy and slow. 

It was a beautiful spring day, and the grounds of the courthouse around them were green and flourishing. There was a scent in the air of wet pavement, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath to keep calm as Anakin lagged behind. “Come on.”

Anakin snorted and walked faster, squinting slightly in the sunlight. He was probably hungover; Obi-Wan assumed it had been a DUI, anyway. “What’d you blow?”

Anakin frowned at him. “What?” 

“Your blood alcohol. Do you know?”

“Oh,” Anakin rolled his eyes, shoving the hair off his forehead, wincing when he hit his bruise. He confirmed the charge with annoyance. “Just .05, but—”

“Zero tolerance,” Obi-Wan said pointedly. “You’re 20 for another month, Anakin.”

“I’m aware of that,” Anakin said snidely, walking faster to pass Obi-Wan, cutting across the grass to stand by the passenger side of the sedan. He pulled twice on the locked handle loudly and gave Obi-Wan a sour look. Obi-Wan slowly removed the remote from his pocket and unlocked the doors.

Anakin collapsed into a pile of limbs in the passenger seat, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but note as he sat beside him that his posture was truly appalling. He swatted forcefully at Obi-Wan’s radio when it began to play NPR, killing the noise, and Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at him. “Anakin—”

He was immediately cut off by a curt, “Save it.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Just…” Anakin scoffed, staring out the window. “Don’t.”

“Seatbelt,” Obi-Wan said flatly, and Anakin clicked it with performative annoyance. He smelled strongly like a specific kind of soap from the jail showers, and Obi-Wan wondered if he had to wash off blood from any other injuries he couldn’t see.

He sighed, collecting himself before pulling out into traffic. It was a mess of road construction downtown, and he had to cross it all to get to the freeway. Again. He merged into the correct lane by force of will, and then relaxed slightly, exhaling hard. “Do you have anything that you would like to say to me?”

“No.” 

Obi-Wan shot him an unimpressed look, and Anakin sneered back. “Do you want me to grovel for a ride?” 

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I want you to be grateful like a normal person.” 

Anakin’s smile was blinding, and false. “Thanks so much!” 

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm. I had to cancel meetings for this.” 

“Ugh, just shut up.” Anakin turned to face the window, his face shutting down again. “I’m too tired for this.”

Obi-Wan made himself drop his shoulders and release the tension in his body with deep, steady breaths. He followed the car in front of him with exacting care to leave the right amount of distance. It was easier to talk to Anakin when he wasn’t looking at him anyway. “I think we need to have another discussion about your behavior, Anakin. You are wildly out of control, you recognize this, correct?”

“You’re not my dad.” Anakin’s voice was hostile, and Obi-Wan couldn’t resist a glance at his sullen face. “You have no authority over me. You’re not related to me at all.” 

“The fact that we share a father is immaterial to you?” 

“Qui-Gon isn’t my real dad either!”

Obi-Wan gaped, surprised. “Anakin—”

“Listen, just fuck off, Obi-Wan! You have no idea what—”

“I have no idea what it’s like to lose a mother?” Obi-Wan matched his volume and clenched his jaw. He refocused on the road after almost following the car in front of him through a red light.

Anakin sounded furious. “It’s not the same!”

“Why?” Obi-Wan watched the light with fixed intensity. “You think your loss is somehow bigger or more real than mine was?”

“Your mom just… died!”

“What?” Obi-Wan said, quiet and lethal, his eyes shifting to Anakin’s stubborn face.

“My mom was killed, okay? It’s different.” Anakin’s eyes were filled with so much pain, that all of Obi-Wan’s resentment and offense at his words melted at once in his stomach. It was still so recent, only six months past.

His voice softened. “Anakin, you—”

Anakin snarled back like a cornered animal. “Someone killed her! I was there, I saw it, and nobody’s been punished, Obi-Wan! Nobody’s been caught! I told them the kind of car, half the license plate, and nothing! She died and someone did it and still nothing is happening to them! I want them dead! I hate them!”

The car behind them honked, and Obi-Wan turned back to the green light and the road, his heart racing slightly at Anakin’s explosion. “Anakin, the police are—”

“Incompetent. They’ll never find them!” 

Obi-Wan let the silence extend, processing and trying to let Anakin calm down. He eventually merged over into a freeway entry ramp, and studied Anakin out of the corner of his eye. “Do you think I haven’t noticed the pattern, Anakin? Drinking and driving around Tatooine?”

Anakin went still for a moment, and then looked blithely unconcerned. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re such a terrible liar,” Obi-Wan shook his head at him, trying to keep his overwhelming, sad understanding to himself. Anakin wouldn’t appreciate it; it was too much like pity. “You need to stop searching for them, Anakin.”

Anakin scowled at him. “Fuck off.” 

Obi-Wan looked back at the line of cars ahead of him, waiting for the meter, the silence more than slightly strained. He exhaled hard with relief when it turned green and he accelerated, merging easily on the freeway. The traffic was finally clearing up, and he set his cruise control at the speed limit.

Anakin scoffed quietly, and Obi-Wan shot him a challenging look. “Do you perhaps want me to speed, Anakin?”

Anakin made an annoyed face at him, and turned to stare out the window instead. It was so painfully quiet between them, and Obi-Wan felt a sense of preemptive loss to be sitting beside someone who was so far away. If he couldn’t reach him, and he couldn’t get him to listen, something truly catastrophic was going to happen. “You have to stop, Anakin.”

“Give it up,” Anakin said quietly, barely audible above the sound of the wheels on the road. He was running his finger along the seam of the window and the door. “It’s not like you really care.”

Obi-Wan’s chest felt tight. He kept his eyes on the road with effort. “You think I don’t care? Why do you think I’m here, if I don’t care?”

Anakin laughed at him, without much kindness. “Your marriage sucks.” 

Obi-Wan recoiled slightly with confusion. What did that have to do with… “My marriage has nothing—”

“Sucks,” Anakin repeated and then sneered at him. “All you two do is argue really loudly on zoom. Why are you procrastinating here, and not at home fixing that mess?” 

“Procrastinating?” Obi-Wan frowned at Anakin using Satine’s favorite word recently, annoyed to be having this conversation with him too— it was true he had been arguing with her more than usual. She had not been willing or able to leave her job as a District Court judge in Mandalore on the spur of the moment, so Obi-Wan had come to Coruscant alone. She had not appreciated that. 

She had been very unimpressed with his decision to quit his job as well, no matter that it had been a relief to Obi-Wan to resign his position as a prosecutor. No matter how good his intentions had been, working that job had worn on him. He’d been looking at Qui-Gon’s small legal aid office with envious eyes for a long time. “That’s not…”

“Is too,” Anakin said, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “You’re just avoiding shit.” 

“I’m not avoiding anything.” Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. He repeated the arguments he’d made at least a hundred times on rote. “I love Qui-Gon and am happy to help him during this difficult time. I want to take over his firm someday anyway, so this is an excellent proof of concept. I love it here. I love Dooku’s house. I love this city.” 

Hurt pinched Anakin’s face in a way that Obi-Wan didn’t understand, and then it passed, his standard dark expression returning. “Love this city more than you love Satine, huh? From the sound of it, she really doesn’t want to move. What are you going to do about that? Seems like it might be time to go home, doesn’t it?” 

Obi-Wan rubbed one of his temples, merging onto the off ramp. “Stop attempting to derail this conversation, Anakin. We were talking about the fact that you are going to get yourself or someone else seriously injured at some point if you keep this up. I won’t let you keep doing this.” 

Anakin laughed again mockingly, a clear challenge. “And how exactly are you going to stop me?”

“Why are you always so hostile?” Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, navigating through their neighborhood, going slow by an elementary school. He was trying to help. 

“Because I don’t have to listen to you!” Anakin snapped back. “I want you to leave me alone.”

Obi-Wan pulled into their driveway and killed the ignition, looking at him seriously. “I can’t. Your attitude is a problem, Anakin. It’s going to get you hurt.”  

“Yeah? I wonder what it’s like to get hurt!” Anakin hopped out and slammed the car door behind him. He looked at his prosthetic like he’d never seen it before, and then glared. “It is so fucking annoying that you’re pretending to give a shit. Just stop.”

Obi-Wan got out of the car more slowly, keeping his frustration banked. “Pretending?”

Anakin mimicked stroking a beard thoughtfully, letting Obi-Wan walk past him to unlock the front door. “Oh… or are you maybe just going to fuck off back to Mandalore and your shitty marriage in a couple weeks and disappear for another decade?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan exhaled hard as though struck. “That’s not…”

Anakin pushed past him, trying to disappear to his room upstairs. “Just leave me alone.”  

“Stop,” Obi-Wan said sharply, and frowned when Anakin ignored him. He stepped forward to grab him by the reinforced leather on his shoulder, and began to pull him toward the living room instead. 

“Excuse me,” Anakin said, offended at being manhandled. “Let me go!”

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan sighed, pushing him forward toward the couches. There was a large, open floorplan on the first floor, with glass windows for walls looking out over the valley facing southeast. The morning light was somewhat harsh and piercing at this time, and Obi-Wan blinked to adjust. 

Anakin squirmed and tried to extricate himself from the jacket, seeming desperate to avoid a lecture. He shrugged and slid his arms out of the sleeves, deftly pulling his prosthesis free, and then danced away back toward the stairs, wearing just a soft, short-sleeved black v-neck beneath. “Hah!” 

He smirked at Obi-Wan— an infuriating, cocky expression that made something click together in Obi-Wan’s chest and then twist. He dropped the jacket, and then grabbed Anakin’s upper arm instead, holding his bicep firmly enough for him to keep a grip when Anakin predictably tugged away.

Anakin scowled and tugged again, harder, and Obi-Wan just turned and began to walk him away from the stairs and back toward the living area. “I want to go to sleep,” Anakin complained, dragging his feet. “I’ve been up all night. It’s impossible to sleep there.”

“In jail?” Obi-Wan said without much sympathy. “My sincere apologies.” 

“Shut up,” Anakin groaned. “God, you’re exhausting.”

“How long this takes will be up to you,” Obi-Wan promised quietly. He led him to a couch and pushed him down. “Then you can sleep.” Anakin landed heavily, looking deeply offended at being moved and dropped in such a fashion.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms across his chest and glared down at him. “I think you should apologize to me first.”

“For what?” Anakin shifted to sit more comfortably on the couch, his face a picture of innocence. 

“You know full well,” Obi-Wan said heatedly, his fists clenching. He turned and walked away toward the window, looking out blankly. It seemed important to put distance between them for this. “You make me so frustrated sometimes, Anakin. I don’t know what to do.”

Anakin’s studied innocence continued, and he picked at the fabric of his jeans. “Maybe you should fuck off.” 

“Stop swearing!” Obi-Wan said sharply, turning back around. “You’re putting yourself in danger. You need to stop!”

“There’s literally no reason I should listen to you,” Anakin said flatly, crossing his arms and letting his legs extend out long before him, crossing them at the ankle. He was so lanky. “So why are you even bothering? You should give up your little project here and go home.”

Obi-Wan wanted to shake him. “I’m bothering, because I care if you’re safe! You’re my—”

“Don’t you dare say we’re related.” Anakin glared at him, face full of resentment. “Do you even really care about that? Or are you just using me as an excuse to avoid your own problems?”  

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, more than slightly stung. Anakin shrugged back, face stubborn. Obi-Wan studied his hurt posture carefully, thinking through his words. Do you even really care? Of course he did, but Anakin didn’t believe him? So he was, what, making sure?

“Has this all been a test? Have you been testing me?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, his anger seeping away, replaced by a wave of sadness. Oh, Anakin. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Is that why things are getting worse?”

Anakin scoffed, looking slightly cornered and wary as Obi-Wan began to walk closer again. “What do you mean, testing, I haven’t—”

“Do you really not believe that I care about you?” Anakin looked away, face going tight. Obi-Wan felt slightly sick. “You believe that? Anakin, I care about you and your well-being a great deal.” 

“Bullshit!” Anakin snarled at that, an instinctive denial. He shot up to his feet, and stepped into Obi-Wan’s personal space, getting in his face. “No, you don’t! Nobody does!” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan gaped at him. “That’s not true at all!”

Anakin scowled and pushed past him, knocking his shoulder hard with his own. “Qui-Gon left me here! Padmé dumped me!”

Obi-Wan licked his lips and then swallowed, turning to watch Anakin pace the length of the window, like some kind of big cat trapped in a cage. He didn’t know the details of what had happened shortly after Anakin dropped all his classes and before Qui-Gon had summoned Obi-Wan, but he knew enough.

“It sounded like you scared her, Anakin. You’re lucky Clovis didn’t press charges, if I recall correctly.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin said quietly, and he sounded pained. He stopped pacing, staring out the windows looking to the south blankly, seeing something in the past. “I know.”

Obi-Wan crossed the room, standing beside him at the window, making eye contact in the glass. His bruise was getting worse. “And Qui-Gon asked you to go with him to Spain, but you refused to go. I know he should have stayed, I’m not defending that, but he’s lost a lot too, Anakin. I can’t fault him for grieving.”

“Yeah,” Anakin said, thickly. His face was washed with a kind of guilty helplessness that came from feeling selfish for asking for what one needs. “I know, but…”

Obi-Wan’s heart ached. “You need him here, not me.”

“I…” Anakin just shook his head, eyes bright and fixed down. “You’re not really here either. Nobody’s ever here.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. “I’m sorry that I’ve been so distracted with work and… other things. When I first came, I tried more, but you weren’t very…” He searched for the right word. “Welcoming to me. I didn’t realize it was because you wanted attention, not the opposite.”

“That’s not why—” Anakin said defensively, cringing to make himself small.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut him off, laying a hand on his arm, and the contact made him go still. He softened his voice. “You kept asking me if I care, and I need you to know that I do. You’re a very special person. It’s easy to care about you.” 

Anakin turned his head to look at him, something unreadable in his gaze. “Like a younger brother?”

“Sure, like that,” Obi-Wan agreed easily, squeezing his hand slightly before dropping it, shoving all his messy feelings away in that tidy box. “I want good things for you, Anakin.”

“You weren’t here when I was growing up at all.” Anakin spoke cautiously, watching Obi-Wan’s hand as it fell away. “You moved away and never came back. You barely know me.” 

Obi-Wan frowned, disturbed by the accusation. Anakin had certainly rejected almost every time he’d tried to get to know him since he’d arrived, but Obi-Wan had still tried; he’d listened to him when he’d talked— he knew a lot about him, his interests, his hobbies, his skills. “I wouldn’t say barely, Anakin.” 

“Fine,” Anakin swallowed, his blue eyes so wide, imploring for something Obi-Wan didn’t quite understand. “But I feel like I barely know you.”  

“What?” Obi-Wan felt slightly hurt. “We talk, don’t we?” 

Anakin’s face twisted with frustration, and he turned back to look out the window. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and muttered. “It’s not enough.”

Not enough?

Obi-Wan stared at his profile, trying to understand what he was saying and not saying. “Not enough? What else do you need?”

“Nothing!” Anakin said harshly, recoiling from Obi-Wan as though struck. “I don’t need anything from anyone.”

The realization, when it came, made Obi-Wan feel very stupid. He pushed Anakin gently on the shoulder to get his attention, and tugged on his sleeve. “Anakin, come here.” 

“What?” Anakin immediately sounded wary, turning to look at the hand touching him. “Why?”

Obi-Wan pulled him close and hugged him tightly. Who had been the last person to hug him? Qui-Gon, probably, unless he was hooking up when he was sneaking out, but that wasn’t the same. He rubbed his back, murmuring supportively. “I’m here if you need me, Anakin, I promise. You’re not alone.”

Anakin froze like he’d been carved from marble for a long moment before he abruptly slumped forward into Obi-Wan’s touch with a sad whine. He'd needed a hug so much. Obi-Wan held him close, trying to let his feeling of guilt pass at not realizing sooner, his heart aching as Anakin resisted when he tried to pull away, burying his face in Obi-Wan’s neck and clinging on tighter instead.

“It’s okay…” Obi-Wan said gently, allowing him to hold on, stroking his back. Touch starved, probably not hooking up much at all then… “It’s alright, Anakin.”

“What about me?” Anakin asked quietly against his neck, and his breath was so hot against Obi-Wan’s skin, it made Obi-Wan shiver. He didn’t follow.

“What about you?” 

“You say you like it here a lot…“ Anakin trailed off, and his voice was shy and insecure. “Do you like that I’m here too? Do you want me here at all?”

Oh.  

Obi-Wan realized with a grimace that he’d reflexively recited to Anakin the same list of reasons he liked it in Coruscant that he used with Satine— the script of things that were acceptable to like. He never mentioned Anakin to her at all. Anakin must have noticed that, how long had he noticed?

“Of course I like that you’re here, Anakin.” Obi-Wan tried to reassure him about how much he mattered, squeezing him for a moment. “You’re my brother.”

“No…” Anakin exhaled shakily and pulled his head back, and Obi-Wan could see his frustration. Why was he frustrated? “Not in any way that matters right now.”

Obi-Wan blinked with confusion as Anakin’s face came closer. “Right now?” 

“Yeah,” Anakin whispered, staring intensely. He swallowed and then pushed forward to quickly brush a chaste kiss on Obi-Wan’s lips and pull back to check his reaction.

“Did you just kiss me…?” Obi-Wan asked, voice blank, his mind crackling with static.

Anakin blushed and nodded, his eyes shifting to the side guiltily. He was chewing nervously on his bottom lip, his mouth had been so soft. His chest was rising and falling so quickly, so warm and alive in Obi-Wan’s arms. He was so beautiful. Obi-Wan suddenly wanted him so much, more than anything. 

He almost automatically leaned forward and kissed him back, sliding a hand without thinking up into his curls and cupping his head, holding him close. It was so good. His eyes slid closed as their lips moved together smoothly, and he licked the soft skin of Anakin’s lips, tasting his mouth, and it was so sweet, so perfect. 

His step-brother. 

Obi-Wan yanked his head back, mortified, and then let go of the hug, pushing him back. “Anakin…” Anakin was looking at him like he’d clubbed him in the back of the head before giving him a million dollars. “We can’t.”

It took several more blinks before Anakin spluttered out of pleased astonishment into indignation. “Why not?”

“So many reasons!” Obi-Wan laughed tightly, growing somewhat panicked. He pulled away from Anakin and retreated, turning to leave and running his hands over his face, smoothing down his beard. He needed to go shower. Cold. 

“There’s nobody but us here,” Anakin said slowly, leadingly. Obi-Wan turned back to look at him, and it hurt, but he couldn’t look away. “You should fuck me.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped, adrenaline coursing through him, hearing him say something that forbidden was too much. “You can’t say that! We can’t do that, that’s—”

“Please, Obi-Wan,” Anakin cut him off, advancing and pushing forward into his personal space, making him stumble backward. “I want you so much. You’ve been driving me insane.” 

Obi-Wan scoffed with disbelief, sitting back on the couch where Anakin had herded him, almost exactly where he’d pushed him before. “Doing what? I haven’t been doing anything.” 

“Exactly,” Anakin groaned, and he crawled onto Obi-Wan’s lap. “All you do is watch me.”

Obi-Wan exhaled hard and grabbed Anakin by the hips, trying to keep him still and prevent him from rocking against him. “You want me to…”

Anakin hummed thoughtfully and began kissing down Obi-Wan’s neck. “Fuck me, put your cock inside me, please, I need you to fuck me.” Obi-Wan felt lightheaded, like his thoughts were failing to cohere, and molten heat was sliding down and pooling low in his gut, his cock throbbing.

The idea of fucking Anakin was so impossible, so illicit, that he was struggling to accommodate it inside his reality. It had never occurred to him consciously before, had it? Had he really watched Anakin? Yes, he supposed so…

He was impossible to look away from. He lit up a room and pulled the eye. He was beautiful and so angry and sad. His skin looked so soft, and so… yes, maybe Obi-Wan had watched him work out sometimes, maybe he had watched him swim, he had… 

His step-brother. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice like gravel, hands squeezing tight on his hips to push him back. “There are so many reasons why—”

Anakin cut him off with a sloppy kiss, sucking Obi-Wan’s bottom lip into his mouth and shutting him up that way. Obi-Wan kissed him back on instinct, and Anakin’s lips were so soft and smooth, and he was so sweet and intent, writhing in Obi-Wan’s lap. Kissing felt so electric, Obi-Wan’s nerves were buzzing with it, his heart pounding, his cock so hard. 

Without thinking he slid a hand up Anakin’s back, pulling him closer, slipping under his shirt and stroking the soft skin, his fingers dragging up his spine. Anakin moaned and rocked his hard cock against him, and Obi-Wan pulled back, gasping for air. Anakin’s eyes were almost black with desire as he repeated the motion, rolling his hips against Obi-Wan’s. 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, his brain still screaming that this wasn’t allowed. He was married. This was his step-brother who wasn’t even old enough to drink. So forbidden, he couldn’t… 

“Stop thinking,” Anakin whispered intently. “Just fuck me. Nobody has to know. It’s just us here. Don’t you want me?” He rolled his hips again, like he was giving Obi-Wan a very slow lap dance. His voice was so breathy. “I can feel your cock.”

Obi-Wan blinked up at him, almost dizzy with an overwhelming wave of affection for how Anakin seemed to flip on a dime from hiding and sniping and snarling, to this, once he knew he could get away with it.

He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to remember who he was, and what was important. “I’m married,” he said weakly. “You’re my… my…”

Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and clung to him, surrounding him, so soft and strong. He whispered in Obi-Wan’s ear, his breath hot and tickling. “Nobody has to know.”

“I’d know,” Obi-Wan groaned, his cock was throbbing. He shook his head quickly. “We can’t. You know I can’t. It would haunt me.”

Anakin pulled back as though slapped, studying his face. “Haunt? That sounds really bad.”

“Once is worse than never, Anakin.” Obi-Wan reached up to cup his face, before he was too deeply offended. Anakin blushed deeply, unable to hold eye contact. 

He bent forward, rubbing his cheek on Obi-Wan’s beard with so much affection, muttering almost indistinctly. “I’m not saying just fuck me once, Obi-Wan, but fuck me whenever.” He made a low, needy noise, rocking his cock forward for pressure, and Obi-Wan groaned, his grip tightening on Anakin’s hips.

Anakin bit the lobe of his ear, whispering fervently. “We’re alone, you can fuck me now, fuck me later—whenever you want, however you want, before you leave for another decade. Nobody has to know.”

Obi-Wan was so hard he could barely think. Anakin’s normally melodic voice was so husky and inviting, he could probably talk Obi-Wan to an orgasm easily like this. Obi-Wan had a clear, devastating vision of the future, of him back at his house in Mandalore, sneaking secret phone calls with Anakin late at night, coming in his hand to the sound of his voice. 

His step-brother, making him come. 

He groaned with frustration. “This is so wrong, Anakin.”

“That’s a yes,” Anakin said with a growing smile. How did he know Obi-Wan so well? He was so full of shit about not knowing him. He knew him too well. 

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth several times. He couldn’t stop looking up at Anakin, still slightly in disbelief and awe that this person was in his life and wanted him like this at all. He tentatively stroked the thin scar over Anakin's eye from the car accident that had almost killed him, fingers brushing over the faint bruise from the damage he was doing to himself because of his pain, his loneliness. Obi-Wan was lonely too. He cleared his throat but couldn’t find the words to agree to do something unspeakably inappropriate.

Anakin was watching his face with warm, curious eyes, flinching slightly as he touched his bruise. “You can nod or shake your head, if using the words is too difficult for you.” His voice was so genuine and understanding, not at all teasing, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at him gratefully. How did he know? 

He nodded, and Anakin sucked in an excited inhale. He vanished from Obi-Wan’s lap almost immediately, and the sudden cool and fresh air made Obi-Wan blink with surprise. “Anakin?” 

Obi-Wan turned to look as he heard Anakin’s awkward footsteps as he hopped and kicked off his boots, hurrying back from the front hall and dropping a condom and packet of lube on Obi-Wan’s lap with a grin. Obi-Wan stared at the lube packet, and then up, his eyes caught as Anakin stepped out of his jeans. His legs were so impossibly long, muscled and lean, with light hair on golden skin. “Anakin…” 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin matched his low, disbelieving tone. He waved his hand toward the fastening of Obi-Wan’s pants. “C’mon.”

“You’re sure in a hurry,” Obi-Wan laughed roughly, his fingers fumbling with the button as Anakin stepped out of his boxer briefs, tossing his shirt on the ground, and was suddenly nude in the morning light. He looked more like a classical statue than any single person had any right to look, an antique marble come to life.  

Obi-Wan blinked with surprise when Anakin abruptly knelt between his knees and took over the task of opening his pants and pulling out his hard cock. His eyes were so ravenously interested, his hand so gentle as he lightly stroked the hard length. “Of course I’m hurrying,” Anakin muttered. “Got to do this before you change your mind.” 

“I won’t,” Obi-Wan said softly. He pulled Anakin’s face closer, kissing him gently and tugging him back up into his lap. He felt a swell of surreality, almost fully dressed with a naked and eager Anakin in his lap. How was this happening?

He picked up the condom and Anakin picked up the lube, opening it with his teeth, waiting impatiently for Obi-Wan to finish putting the condom on before he began to stroke his cock and spreading lube. Obi-Wan exhaled hard and tugged the packet from his hand, swiping some on his own fingers. He looked up at Anakin’s face while he reached between his legs, exploring the sensitive skin.

Anakin's mouth fell open as Obi-Wan began gently circling around and teasing his hole, and his hand jumped from Obi-Wan's cock to grab his shoulder for stability. He was so soft, Obi-Wan couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. How many times had he stared at Anakin’s ass in his gym shorts without letting himself notice he’d been doing it? He’d wanted to touch him so much, but had pretended to be blind. 

He pressed harder, and Anakin made a sound like he’d been punched. Obi-Wan kissed down his strong chest, sucking on his nipples, biting gently as he slid a finger inside. Anakin whined loudly with surprise, his hips rocking, and Obi-Wan gave him a curious look, slowly opening him up. He’d gotten the condom and lube from his motorcycle jacket, but he was so tense, almost as if unpracticed. “How much have you done this before?” 

“Not very much.” Anakin shook his head, his voice breathy, eyes wide. “Just a few times.”

The morning light was making his curls glow, his halo was back, and Obi-Wan stared up at him, transfixed by his expression as his finger fucked deeper inside him, making him moan. He gently added a second finger, and then curled them forward. Anakin whined loudly, hips jerking, his cock leaking shiny precome. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s cock was so hard it hurt. He clenched and unclenched his jaw as he fucked his fingers faster inside his step-brother, not his wife, and then he went still, remembering all five hundred thousand reasons this was a terrible idea.

“No, bad,” Anakin scowled at him, rocking his hips to get his attention back. “No thinking.” 

“What?” Obi-Wan asked dumbly, and then groaned as Anakin lifted himself up off his fingers and reached down to hold his cock, lining himself up, his slick skin dragging against the sensitive head. Obi-Wan exhaled hard. “Anakin, careful. Haven’t had time to—” 

Anakin wrinkled his nose with annoyance, and dropped his hips down, stubbornly taking the thick head of Obi-Wan’s cock inside his tight hole, and then they moaned together. Anakin went still, clinging to Obi-Wan’s neck, and he was so perfect, warm and trembling in Obi-Wan’s arms.

Obi-Wan stroked his back encouragingly, his voice low. “Slowly.” It felt so good, so perfect and hot, the pressure was incredible, the smooth slide of it incredible as he took it deeper, inch by inch.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin gasped, sinking down and taking more. He looked in Obi-Wan’s eyes as if he had all of the answers, repeating himself somewhat nonsensically and emphatically. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nodded agreement, and he slid his hands up and down Anakin’s sides in a soothing gesture, enjoying the shape of his chest beneath his palms, the long line of his back, his strong stomach, his soft skin. Anakin sat up and then sank down again, and Obi-Wan’s cock slid even deeper. Obi-Wan groaned, his voice rough. “Does that feel good, darling? Do you like that?”

“Yes,” Anakin whimpered at the pet name, and pressed their foreheads together, rolling his hips in a small circle, adjusting, and then lowering down, taking more. “Just like I’d hoped.”

He’d been thinking about this, wanting this. Obi-Wan exhaled hard, unable to stop touching him, stroking down his strong thighs and back up to his hips, encouraging him to ride him in exactly the right way. He groaned with satisfaction— Anakin was so pliant under his hands, following his guidance so easily. “You’re so perfect.”

Anakin inhaled sharply, and his hips lost their smooth rhythm. “What?”

Obi-Wan used the break in his movement to slide him off his cock, pushing him down sideways beside him, laying him on his back on the couch and crawling on top, feeling an intense need to be on top so he could fuck this perfect boy, fuck him how he needed it, make him take it. “So perfect, Anakin.”

Anakin blinked up at him, his cheeks flushing crimson, his mouth falling open with a small huff with surprise at the abrupt change in his position. Without looking away from his face, Obi-Wan reached down and lined his cock back up to his hole, fucking inside and filling him back up. The new angle was tight, and Anakin whined loudly. He was so perfect.

Obi-Wan hovered over him on his elbows, kissing him hard. He flexed his hips down and forward gently, thrusting his cock inside as slowly and carefully as he could, sliding in deep. The noises Anakin made as Obi-Wan worked his cock inside were so perfect— his back arched, rocking down onto Obi-Wan’s cock to help take it deeply, his eyes fluttering closed. He was so beautiful beneath him, flushed and panting, full of his cock. 

With one last, rougher thrust that made Anakin whimper loudly, Obi-Wan bottomed out, his cock fully buried inside Anakin’s tight body, and he went still. It was almost overwhelming, tight, hot, perfect. He smiled down at the pleasure-drunk expression on Anakin’s face, tipping his head down and kissing him, sucking the slightly swollen, pouting bottom lip into his own mouth as he began to fuck him again, faster and faster.

Anakin whimpered and rocked against him, and Obi-Wan pushed his legs further apart and began to fuck him harder. He took it so well. His step-brother, taking his cock so well. This time, the idea made him groan instead of recoil, and he heard Anakin’s sweet voice reminding him in his mind— Nobody had to know.

He reached down and began to stroke Anakin’s cock as he fucked him, wrapping his fingers around his hard length and jerking him off slowly. He switched to slow, deep thrusts, watching Anakin’s face. “Are you going to come? Come on my cock?” Anakin just whined and nodded quickly, his whole body tense and trembling. “I’m going to come, you feel so good, so perfect, darling.” He smirked and twisted his wrist, thrusting sharply, a wry, jesting twist to his words. "Little brother."

Anakin’s eyes rolled back, and he came with a whimper, throwing his head back and showing off the long line of his neck. Obi-Wan’s mouth was drawn to lick down it, sucking gently where it met his shoulder as he fucked him through his orgasm, his come filling Obi-Wan’s hand and spilling onto his stomach. He looked up and whined, “Obi-Wan, come, I want to see it, come in me, please.”

The sound of Anakin’s voice pushed Obi-Wan over the edge, one last thrust in deep, and then he came too, groaning loudly. Anakin whimpered with satisfaction, and the noise felt like it went inside and through him, part of the overwhelming sense of release he felt as his cock pulsed inside Anakin’s tight, hot body. Fuck, it felt good, better than anything, so forbidden, nobody could know.

He opened his eyes to meet Anakin’s steady and fascinated observation. After a long moment, Anakin tugged Obi-Wan down into a tight hug, and Obi-Wan huffed in complaint. “You’re getting come on my sweater.”

“I’ll do laundry,” Anakin murmured happily, and Obi-Wan relaxed for a moment, pressing him down against the pillows, enjoying the feeling of covering him and filling him up. It felt so perfect.

Obi-Wan sighed and pulled back, sliding out his cock and taking the condom off with relief. His mind was trying to restart, and he tried as hard as he could not to let it. He didn’t want to think right now. He felt good, for once. Anakin looked happy, for once. 

Anakin’s smile was genuine and soft in a way he hadn’t seen before, and it made Obi-Wan’s heart ache. He cleaned him up with the dirty sweater and then tossed it to the floor, relaxing back down on top of him. He didn’t want to move, laying between Anakin’s legs, covering his chest, face buried in his neck.

Anakin hummed happily and held him close. “You’re wearing too many clothes for this.”

“You were the one in the hurry,” Obi-Wan reminded him, and kissed his neck gently. His mind was trying so hard to turn back on, he didn’t want it to, the afterglow was so good, too good.

The moment was quiet and perfect, until Anakin broke the peace, whispering almost silently. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Obi-Wan blinked, and tried to pull back, but Anakin wouldn’t let him. He tightened his arms to keep him in place, whispering quietly and fervently, clearly regretting opening his mouth. “Never mind, never mind, sorry.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, and relaxed back into his hold, not fighting him. He rested his forehead against Anakin’s skin and sighed. “You know I’m married.”

Anakin’s voice was so small that it was almost inaudible. “But what if you weren’t?”

“I guess…” Obi-Wan swallowed, and then spoke the idea that had been unspeakable for weeks quietly into Anakin’s skin. “I’d ask Qui-Gon if I could move here.” 

“Yeah?” Anakin asked shakily. His arms loosened slightly, and Obi-Wan pushed up to look him in the face. He looked so insecure. “Why?”

“I’ve already told you…” Obi-Wan smiled slightly, voice soft. “I love it here.” 

Anakin smiled back, shy and hopeful. “The place?”

Obi-Wan shook his head and kissed him, laying his face back down in his neck. “The people.”

“Good,” Anakin sighed, and he relaxed, holding Obi-Wan close. “Good.”

Anakin was alone in his luxurious hotel room in Baku, bruised and exhausted, looking at race telemetry data on his laptop. It was almost midnight, and he should have been sleeping, but he couldn’t. Guilt and fear gnawed at him, crawling in his stomach and up his throat, and he kept swallowing it all down and pushing it away.

He took in the familiar graphs, reading the race in the language of braking force and steering wheel angle, reliving it corner by corner, lap by lap. He could see it all so clearly in his mind’s eye, feel it all in his sense memory: the vibrations of the engine and the rolling of the tires were still buzzing in his bones. It almost hurt his brain to do this review, but he couldn’t stop, or else the guilt and fear returned and both were much more painful than any mental fatigue.

He wished he was back in his car, where everything made sense. His brain sometimes felt like a computer during a race, processing so much information in fractions of a second. He felt like he blended with the machine around him until he was just the operating system of the car, not a person at all. It was both peaceful and immensely taxing, in a way that wasn’t clear until it was over and it suddenly hurt to think. 

He drank more water, trying to rehydrate, and winced as he shifted on the bed. Driving an F1 car for two hours was completely exhausting; his neck and core ached from the constant g-forces, and his left leg was very fatigued from braking, but that was all normal. He’d become used to all of that years ago, but he’d gotten an extra bonus bit of pain in his chest and legs when he had crashed into the back of Quinlan’s car. 

The memory made him wince, but not because of the pain. The Azerbaijan Grand Prix had ended in disaster for the team earlier in the day when he and Quinlan had collided with each other, taking each other out of the race. The double retirement had cost the team at least 22 points and hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage, and both of them had been called in and reprimanded by the stewards. 

Anakin snarled and pushed his laptop away, putting his face in his hands and pressing on his eyes. He’d been P5 in qualifying, and Quinlan had been P4. He’d gotten more and more frustrated as they traded positions during the race several times, and they’d banged wheels twice. Quinlan had gotten a good lap out of his pit stop and taken the P4 spot, and Anakin hadn’t been able to take it back, until finally, on lap 40, he had taken his shot.

He had been in Quinlan’s slipstream and then made a dummy attack to the outside, trying to lure Quinlan to defend and open up a space on the inside. He had seen Quinlan begin to drift to the middle and dove into the opening gap, but Quinlan had realized almost immediately what his plan was, returning to cover the inside. Moving twice like that wasn’t allowed, so Anakin hadn’t expected it—he had braked into what he had thought would be an empty space, and instead it was full of Quinlan. Quinlan’s slipstream had removed all the drag that would have helped him slow down, and he had crashed into the back of his car, taking them both out of the race. 

The stewards had found that, while Quinlan had indeed made two moves in front of Anakin, Anakin had made his move to overtake too late, and too close to the braking zone before a 90° corner, so contributed equally to the crash. Their team principal Obi-Wan Kenobi had made both of them apologize to the entire team, but Anakin knew that everyone suspected that he held Anakin more responsible.

Quinlan was much older, a proven driver, a championship winner, and Anakin was in a much more tenuous position. He had now been involved in incidents at all four races so far in the season, and had scored the team only 18 points, leaving him in eighth place in the driver’s championship, which simply wasn’t acceptable if he was going to keep his seat. He was also getting a reputation which he didn’t think he deserved. He drove aggressively, yes, but so did everyone else. 

You couldn’t be an F1 driver unless you were willing to take risks and attack, and he wouldn’t have been moved up from the junior team if he didn’t. Obi-Wan had told him many times that he shouldn’t be angry when he drove, that it made him lose his focus and compromised his good judgment. While Anakin agreed with him in principle, the reality was so much harder, especially when he needed to do well. 

Obi-Wan used to race too, he knew what the pressure was like, but he was still so strict. Anakin was just so tired of failing to fulfill his high expectations. He had looked up to him for years, and driving for him was a dream come true, or it would have been, if he stopped making so many stupid mistakes. He rubbed his eyes, and reached back for his laptop, needing the distraction of the telemetry to push away the fear. 

There was a quiet knock on the door, and he frowned. It was after 11, far too late for it to be anyone from the team, and he hoped some insane fan hadn’t discovered his room number. He got up slowly, moving to the door and looking through the little eyehole, exhaling hard when he saw Obi-Wan’s familiar, copper hair and pale, handsome face. Anakin's chest almost hurt as he swallowed down a swell of fear and resentment. What the fuck was Obi-Wan doing there?

Obi-Wan looked genial and patient through the small lens, but that meant very little about his true mood. He was the youngest team principal by a large margin, and he didn’t get to his position by being anything other than relentlessly perfectionistic. He demanded the best from everyone around him, not by shouting or threatening them, but by remaining calm and affable, even when his eyes were full of steel.  

Anakin’s headache intensified, and he rubbed his temples, turning and limping back to his bag. He found a pair of soft team-branded pants and t-shirt and awkwardly pulled them on before returning to the door, halfway hoping that Obi-Wan would have given up and left. He was completely unsuprised to find that he had not.

He unlocked the deadbolt and slowly pulled the door open, hesitantly meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Hello?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a polite smile. “May I come in?” 

Anakin was very tempted to say no, and to claim that he was too tired, that he needed to sleep. He really didn’t want to talk to him about what had happened, and Obi-Wan must have read that on his face. He raised an eyebrow, tone growing dry and slightly too knowing. “It won’t take long.”

“Fine,” Anakin said quietly, stepping aside and opening the door wider.

Obi-Wan came in, and immediately turned on the lights. Anakin closed the door behind him, blinking quickly to adjust to the sudden change in brightness. Obi-Wan pulled out the chair of the small desk and turned it around, gesturing Anakin toward the foot of the bed to sit opposite him. His eyes were unreadable as Anakin slowly made his way across the room and sat down with a heavy exhale. 

He tipped his head toward the visible screen of Anakin’s laptop. “You were looking at the race telemetry again?”

Anakin shrugged, and it hurt. He rubbed his sternum, hiding a wince. “I often do that.”

Obi-Wan hummed his disapproval, watching his hand. “You should be asleep.”

“Why did you come now, if that’s true?”

“Because I suspected that you wouldn’t be,” Obi-Wan said flatly. “I thought it might be useful for us to have a conversation.” 

Anakin swallowed and looked down, picking uncomfortably at the fabric of his pants. His dread was only growing as his weary mind woke up to the possible implications that Obi-Wan had come to meet with him in private, this was so bad, he really was going to lose his seat. “I thought we talked already during the debrief.”

“We discussed the race with the team today, yes, but I think there is more for us to talk about in the big picture.”

Oh, no.

Anakin braced himself, tensing his aching muscles, and stared fixedly at the floor, his eyes filling with tears, overwhelmed suddenly by how much everything hurt. He asked quickly, tensely, “Are you demoting me back to—”

“No,” Obi-Wan cut him off, holding up his hand to stop the flow of Anakin’s words. “That's not why I’m here.”

Anakin’s throat felt thick, and he cleared it. “Then what?”

Obi-Wan ran a hand down his beard thoughtfully, his tone precise as he made an inventory of Anakin’s recent failures, ticking them off on his fingers. “Australia, you ran wide multiple times, and then spun your car, P6. Bahrain, you crashed during qualifying, and then collided during the race and got a puncture, car retired. China, you collided during another overtake and got a 10-second penalty, P5. Today, you know well what happened.” 

Anakin nodded once, and said nothing, Obi-Wan’s dispassionate summary ringing in his ears. He swallowed, fists clenching and knuckles going white, and Obi-Wan sighed, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands, his eyes intent with concern.

“You are an outstanding young talent, Anakin, but you are driving on the edge. Your overtakes have gotten you in trouble repeatedly now. Your anger and your impatience are simply not acceptable. You cannot be this aggressive—”

“No!” Anakin cut him off. He just couldn’t stand this much of Obi-Wan’s focused attention, his slight condescension, his… everything. He stood up sharply, ignoring how his left leg screamed in complaint. “I have to. It’s why I’m here!” 

“Anakin—”

“No!” Anakin repeated stubbornly, and shook his head, his volume rising as he felt closer and closer to crying. “I only keep my seat if I win, right? Or else I don’t provide any value to the team, do you think that I don’t know that?! My dad’s nobody, not a billionaire, not a famous name! I have to win, or I’m gone!”

Obi-Wan’s gaze was sharp. “Anakin, your aggression has been the thing hindering you in every race so far, not helping you win.”

“What do you want me to do when I see an opening then, give it up? Accept P5?” Anakin growled and turned, pacing toward the window. He took a few breaths, pushing through the pain. “This is everything to me. Of course I’m going to race, to be aggressive. I’m never going to yield, not when I have to win!” 

Obi-Wan scoffed at that. “You can’t win if you keep crashing first.”

“I know that!” Anakin turned back around, his fists clenched, shoulders high. “You think I don't know? Obviously I can’t crash! But I can’t back off either, Obi-Wan! I just have to try harder, be better!”

Obi-Wan made a quiet, frustrated noise, and stood up. Anakin’s mouth opened and then snapped closed as Obi-Wan crossed his arms across his chest, his face serious. “Anakin, you—”

“I have to!” Anakin said desperately, flinching as Obi-Wan came nearer, standing close before him. “If I accept P5, P6? I have no value to you or anyone else!” 

“Please be quiet,” Obi-Wan said, his tone final. He rested a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, squeezing him gently. 

“But—”

“Quiet,” Obi-Wan repeated. He moved his hand around to Anakin’s upper back and pushed him toward the bed. “Let’s sit back down, okay?” 

Anakin nodded with resignation and allowed Obi-Wan to guide him back to his seat on the foot of the bed, sitting with a soft whimper of pain that Obi-Wan did not miss—he pressed his lips together, closely studying Anakin’s expression, his face growing increasingly thoughtful. How often had he seen Anakin lose his temper over the years? So often… too often, probably…

It was very quiet, and Anakin sniffed, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan sighed and crossed the room to grab a box of tissues from the desk, returning to his side, holding them out. “Don’t apologize, you don’t need to. I understand that you are stressed and very tired right now.”

Anakin took the box and blew his nose. He took a steadying breath as that action made his core light up with pain. His voice was scraped raw. “Yes, I am.”

“It’s important that you understand, Anakin…” Obi-Wan trailed off and Anakin frowned up at him with confusion, meeting his serious blue eyes. “There may be times where you fail to deliver a good result for the team, but you will always have value to me.”

“What?” 

Obi-Wan’s hand returned to his shoulder, squeezing gently in the face of his confusion. “You always have value to me as a person, Anakin, beyond just being a driver for the team. You are not only of value to me when you win.”

“What?” Anakin shook his head, blinking quickly as his brain spun out, searching for traction. “Why?”

Obi-Wan squeezed reassurance, his eyes growing unusually soft. “Because I am very proud of you.”

Anakin’s mouth opened and closed, the words sending a shudder down his spine that strangely didn’t hurt. He blinked twice and tipped his head to the side in confusion. “Why…? Why would you ever be proud if I didn’t win?”

Obi-Wan smiled, sad, kind lines appearing beside his eyes, and Anakin realized that he’d never seen him look quite so open and genuine. He didn’t know he was even capable of looking like this. “How long have we known each other, Anakin?”

Anakin didn’t know the exact answer to that. “Years?”

Obi-Wan nodded, and then sat down next to him, knocking him gently with his shoulder. “You came into the junior team as little more than a boy, and I’ve been there as you've grown into a very capable young man, Anakin. I have grown to trust you, and I would like to think that you trust me too. I value that, the relationship we’ve come to share, more than the outcome of any single race.”

“But…” Anakin struggled to explain why what he said made no sense. “I’m just a driver. There are lots of us. I’m replaceable.” Obi-Wan chuckled incredulously at that, and Anakin felt his face flush. “I am!”

“You are one of the greatest talents of your generation, Anakin, and I have no doubt whatsoever that you will dominate the championship in the next few years.” Anakin inhaled sharply, his stomach twisting, and Obi-Wan bumped him with his shoulder again. “This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. I’ve said as much in the press a thousand times.”

“That’s just… PR.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I have tremendous confidence in you and your future, so much so that it is important that the rest of the world knows.”

“But…” Anakin felt on the verge of tears again. “Why? I keep messing up everything so much.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, and it sounded exasperated and almost fond.

“What?”

Obi-Wan rubbed his back supportively, and the gentle pressure felt so incredible that Anakin couldn’t help but lean into it. The sound of Obi-Wan’s low, reassuring murmur was so comforting, it felt like sinking into a warm bath, and he shivered, it felt so good.

“You were the youngest ever winner of a Grand Prix during your first race with us after being promoted. You were on the podium nine times last year. I have watched your entire career so far, and know your potential. You have a kind of magic dust about you. You don’t need to be this anxious about keeping your seat, I promise. You are not in any danger of being demoted.”

“I’m really not…?” 

It didn’t make any sense. Magic dust?

Obi-Wan shook his head, and his voice got quieter, and even more kind. “I always thought you were driving angry, Anakin, but it is clear to me now that it is not anger. It is fear. You are driving scared, but you really don’t need to be afraid.”

Anakin scowled and pulled back, surprised to realize that their faces had been so close. “I am not scared.”

“Not of the other cars or the race,” Obi-Wan said quickly, holding up a hand to forestall any more offense. “You are afraid of what the race means. You are afraid of failing.”

Afraid of failing? Of course he was. Failing had obvious, disastrous consequences, ranging from Obi-Wan’s disappointed face, to losing his career, to his actual death. Just that day he’d gotten in an obscenely expensive wreck in front of a broadcast to tens of millions of people, destroyed car parts in an instant that had taken the team hundreds of hours to build, and severely damaged their chance at winning the championship. He’d seen Obi-Wan’s face after and…

He took a shaky breath, rubbing his face with his hands and pressing on his eyes. His palms came away wet, and he laughed helplessly. “Of course I’m afraid of failing.”

Obi-Wan pushed the tissues back into his open hands, and returned to rubbing his back, supporting him as he tried to regain control. “If you let that fear grip you, Anakin, you will almost certainly lose every race. It is not motivating you, it is choking you. It is pushing you to make mistakes. I need you to be confident, not scared.”

Anakin laughed once, and it was a weak, sad thing. “I don’t think I know how not to be scared.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around his shoulders, squeezing him in a side hug. “I know, Anakin. What do you think you need in order to stop being afraid, beyond my reassurance that you are not now and will not be demoted?”

Anakin slumped against him, so tired and overwhelmed. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s get you to bed then,” Obi-Wan said fondly, squeezing him again. It made Anakin feel a flush of heat, and he blushed. Obi-Wan smelled so good, something warm, musky, and spicy, and he wanted to just curl up against him and stay there forever. 

He whispered, “Okay.”

Obi-Wan dropped his arm and stood, and Anakin sighed with disappointment, suddenly cold in his absence. He knew Obi-Wan just expected him to scoot back up the king size bed, but the idea of doing that was suddenly overwhelming. His core hurt too much. He just looked up at Obi-Wan, his posture slumped, until Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and offered a hand.

“Thanks,” Anakin said reluctantly. He took Obi-Wan’s hand and let him pull him to his feet, with an involuntary, pained exhale, overbalancing slightly. 

Obi-Wan caught him by the shoulder and frowned, studying his face. “Are you more injured than they said?”

“No, I’m just tired.” Anakin felt his face get even hotter at being so weak. “Normal tired.”

Obi-Wan gave him a doubtful look, and then gently poked him in the stomach. Anakin winced away from the finger and swayed backward, and Obi-Wan caught him again before he fell over. “I thought so.”

“It’s just normal…” Anakin said, embarrassed, seeking his balance on the balls of his feet, so aware of Obi-Wan’s hands on his arms, holding him steady. “The harness, you know. I was still going very fast when the car stopped.” 

“I’m familiar with the physics of car crashes,” Obi-Wan said, voice dry. He rolled his eyes. “Come on.” 

Anakin nodded, letting him escort him around to the side of the bed and sit him down. He concealed a wince to the best of his ability, though Obi-Wan’s quiet scoff alerted him to the fact that he was not very successful. Obi-Wan encouraged him to lay back, and Anakin let his head fall on the pillow, stretching his body out carefully. 

Obi-Wan looked down at him, and his face was so fond, it looked like a trick of the light. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his voice quiet. “Next race is Barcelona, you know.”

“I know,” Anakin whispered, and the corners of his lips twitched up in a tiny smile before dropping. “I like Barcelona.”

“You’ve done very well there,” Obi-Wan said, and his hand drifted absently to Anakin’s head, pushing his hair back off his forehead. Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed at the gentle contact. His hand was so large, so warm; it felt so comforting. “I know you will do well again. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Anakin nodded, nuzzling into the hand that still hadn’t left his hair. It sent a nice tingle through his body, a warm, relaxing shiver. “I know.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said crisply, leaning down and kissing his forehead, shifting to stand, his hand falling away. The loss of the contact suddenly felt like the end of the world to Anakin, and he instinctively grabbed it, not wanting to let it go.

Obi-Wan paused, an eyebrow raising in question. “What?”

Anakin’s cheeks felt so hot. He didn’t know how to say he wanted Obi-Wan’s hands back on his body—his lips back on his skin, for him to never stop touching him—without it sounding impossibly inappropriate. “I…” He shook his head and just pulled on Obi-Wan’s hand, tugging it gently. 

Obi-Wan sat back down, letting him hold on with a soft, worried expression. “What, Anakin?”

Anakin’s eyes fell to his hand with embarrassment, looking at his thick fingers and feeling another flush of heat, this one sharper, stronger. He wanted those fingers inside him. He whispered, “I think I know what would make me feel less afraid.”

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked curiously, and Anakin blinked up at him, and he was sure that his need was written on his face. 

Obi-Wan’s expression only had a second to shift into surprise when Anakin tugged him closer, sitting up slightly despite his aching core and rubbing his cheek on his beard. It was so rough, scratchy but soft, and he smelled like familiar, sweet oil. He felt unable to look Obi-Wan in the eye, whispering in his ear and feeling so reckless. “Touch me, please.”

“What?” Obi-Wan said, but it was more of an incredulous exhale than a word.

Anakin buried his face against his neck, inhaling his scent. “You should fuck me.”

Obi-Wan made a pained noise. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Anakin asked, feeling a swell of despair as Obi-Wan pulled his head back, his face a complex mix of emotions that Anakin couldn’t read. 

“It’s not appropriate.” 

Anakin’s bottom lip pouted, and he slumped back onto the pillow. He felt close to tears again, he was just so tired, everything hurt so much, and Obi-Wan didn’t want him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, shaking his head. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“How do you know?” Anakin said resentfully, looking away, rejection curling and twisting inside.

Obi-Wan tugged his hand free of Anakin’s grip and used it to cup his face, making him look at him again and make eye contact. “Because I know you, Anakin. I know you well, and you know me. You have to know I wouldn’t take advantage of you in that way.”

Anakin shook his head, rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan’s soft palm. The warm pressure of his hand against his skin made Anakin’s breathing shallow and fast and his cock throb. “It’s not taking advantage if I want it.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispered, thumb running on his cheekbone, as though he couldn’t help but reassure him. “It still would be.”

Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed, his voice a breathy whine. “Even if I need it?” 

Obi-Wan pulled his hand back as though burned. “Especially then.”

“But it would feel so good,” Anakin argued, stubbornly capturing his hand before it got too far away, holding it tight with both of his own. 

Obi-Wan barked a laugh, tugging gently on his hand to free it. “I’m sure it would.” 

“But you still won’t?” Anakin pulled his hand to his mouth, and lightly kissed his palm, meeting his eyes. “I want you so much… are you sure you don’t you want me too?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice was rougher. “That’s not the question.” 

“What’s the question, then?”

Obi-Wan was silent, and Anakin maintained eye contact, moving Obi-Wan’s hand over and pushing his thumb through his lips into his mouth. Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped, his lips parting, but he still didn’t speak, his eyes were so dark. Anakin sucked on his thumb, licking it, and Obi-Wan made a low noise that went straight to his cock. 

He shifted his hips, his back arching instinctively. He was getting so hard, and Obi-Wan’s eyes followed his movement, falling on where his soft pants showed exactly how much he wanted it. He made a sound like he’d been punched. “Anakin…”

Anakin let his thumb slip out of his mouth with a wet sounding pop. “What?”

“You…” Obi-Wan’s eyes hadn’t moved, and Anakin’s cock twitched under his observation. “You can’t…”

“Why not?” Anakin asked, and then hesitantly slid his hand up Obi-Wan’s inner thigh, exhaling hard with relief when he felt the hard length of his cock. He wanted him too, he did, he really did. “Please fuck me, Obi-Wan? Please?”

Obi-Wan tugged his gaze away from Anakin’s cock back up to his face, and his cheeks were flushed red under his beard. Anakin let his fingertips graze up the thick line of Obi-Wan’s cock toward the fastening of his trousers, waiting for him to stop him. Obi-Wan looked so conflicted, his voice so low and husky. “We shouldn’t.”

“But we can?” Anakin asked, breathless with excitement and hope. 

Obi-Wan swallowed, meeting his eyes. “This will help you? Will you be able to trust me when I say you can relax, that your seat is secure?” Anakin nodded quickly, reaching for his shirt, making fists in the fabric and pulling him closer.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be pulled, shifting to hover over him, eyes so intent, so full of concern. “Is this going to hurt you?” 

“No,” Anakin said quickly, opening his legs wider so that Obi-Wan could fit easily between them. 

Obi-Wan smiled knowingly down at him, and Anakin could see his dimples under his beard from this close. He tugged on his shirt harder, but Obi-Wan resisted putting his weight on him. “I don’t believe that you’re telling the truth.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose with annoyance, giving up on pulling him down. “It’ll feel good enough to make up for it.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, his voice adopting a familiar, bossy tone. “If we do this, we have to do it my way.”

“Oh,” Anakin exhaled, arousal flashing through him, his cock throbbing almost painfully. He bit his lip, eyes going wide. “Whatever you want.”

Obi-Wan smiled again, his voice just as demanding. “Tell me where you hurt.”

Anakin blushed, looking away. “My neck and core are tired. My chest hurts. My arms and legs are sore.”

“So… everywhere.” 

“I guess so.”

Obi-Wan made a thoughtful little noise and sat back on his heels, looking Anakin up and down. “Take off your shirt.”

Anakin obediently tugged the shirt over his head and dropped it to the side, and Obi-Wan ran a careful hand down his chest, studying the faint pattern of bruising. “Is it better to lay on your back, or on your stomach?” 

“Umm…” Obi-Wan’s hand slid lower and lower, and Anakin whimpered, his cock leaking in his pants, he was so hard. “My back, I promise this is fine, Obi-Wan, this is good. Please.”

Obi-Wan’s expression was rapt as he let his hand slide under Anakin’s waistband, pushing down his pants and pulling out his cock, squeezing it gently. “Are you sure you don’t just want to come?” 

Anakin whined, his hips instinctively rocking up, but he shook his head. “I want to feel you inside me. I need it.”

Obi-Wan exhaled hard, his thumb running over the head of his cock, absently collecting the slick precome, and Anakin whined again. “Please!”

Obi-Wan reluctantly let go, and Anakin’s hand jumped to replace his hold, the loss of the warmth and pressure was intolerable. Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head fondly, getting up from the bed. “If you come before I return with some oil, I’m not fucking you.” Anakin pouted, and dropped his hand, watching as Obi-Wan went into the suite’s large bathroom. 

Without Obi-Wan in the room, the last ten minutes seemed impossible, like a fantasy that Anakin had definitely had before, coming on his fingers thinking of Obi-Wan’s smooth, intent voice, his handsome face and strong arms—his kind eyes, his warm praise, his proud boasting to the press about his talent, about his skill. 

Obi-Wan came back holding a small bottle filled with a golden liquid, and Anakin shoved off his pants, kicking them away. He couldn’t really believe that Obi-Wan hadn’t already changed his mind, that he wanted him too, it was impossible. Obi-Wan dropped the oil next to him and then pulled off his own shirt. 

Anakin reached for the oil absently, opening it and smelling the sweet, almondy scent. His eyes were transfixed as Obi-Wan’s strong chest was revealed, and the pale skin of his neck was flushed. Obi-Wan stepped out of his pants too, and suddenly Anakin could see his cock. He stared, his jaw slackening slightly, pulse pounding in his ears. His mind just couldn’t process it, he couldn’t believe he was getting something he’d wanted secretly for so long. 

Obi-Wan grabbed one of the many spare pillows and returned to his place kneeling between Anakin’s spread legs. He gently placed the pillow beneath his hips and slid his hands under his thighs, opening his legs and pushing them back toward his shoulders, putting him at just the right angle, his voice rough. “Can you hold these here without stressing your core?”

Anakin whimpered and nodded, replacing Obi-Wan’s hands and holding his legs in place. He felt so exposed like this; Obi-Wan was looking at him, looking between his legs, and it somehow wasn’t mortifying, just a relief, a relief that he was finally seeing him. “Please!”

Obi-Wan shot him a dark, amused look, picking up the oil and getting his fingers slick. “You are possibly the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”

Anakin laughed shakily, his breath catching when Obi-Wan’s fingers gently circled around where he wanted them most. He shifted, trying to get them inside. “It’s why I’m a good driver.”

“It’s why you’re the best driver,” Obi-Wan said indulgently, and one of his fingers pressed harder, circling around his rim and working deeper inside. Anakin moaned loudly, his head dropping back to the pillow as he took Obi-Wan’s finger inside him, Obi-Wan was inside him, finally. 

He groaned, adjusting to the sensation. “Yes! More, yes…”

Obi-Wan’s finger sank in deeper, and Anakin’s back arched, pressing against the pressure, trying to take more. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “So greedy.”

“Good driver,” Anakin shot back. 

“The best,” Obi-Wan agreed again, and then he slid his finger back before pushing it inside harder, making Anakin moan. He began to fuck him gently, adding another finger and making him take it too, opening him up, getting him ready to take his cock.

“More,” Anakin whimpered. “More now.”

“We’re doing this my way, remember?” Obi-Wan said, and his voice was so deep and bossy, Anakin’s cock spilled more precome against his stomach. “My way means not hurting you. I won’t hurt you.”

Anakin’s fingers tightened where they were gripping behind his knees, his eyes squeezing closed and hips rocking as Obi-Wan curled his fingers, rubbing against a sensitive place that sent such a strong burst of sensation, it was almost too much. “Please! I don’t want to come before you’re inside me, you said if I didn’t come, you would fuck me, you said you would!”

“I did say that,” Obi-Wan murmured. He slid his fingers out, and Anakin whined sadly at the loss, he felt so empty. Obi-Wan grinned at him. “Do make up your mind.”

“Fuck me,” Anakin said immediately, seeking his eyes, begging for it. “Obi-Wan, please!”

Obi-Wan’s grin softened into a fond smile, his eyes so warm, so knowing, like he saw everything about Anakin, the bad and the good, and accepted it all, understood it all. He looked down at his cock, his face twisting with concern as he began rubbing oil on it. “I don’t have a condom.”

Anakin shrugged, and regretted it, the pain almost breaking through the haze of pleasure still trembling through him. “That’s fine. I want your come inside me anyway.” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, like he’d wounded him. 

“Please?” Anakin felt breathless as Obi-Wan finally leaned forward, hovering over him on his elbows, not putting any weight on him. Anakin wished he would just crush him down into the mattress, but knew he wouldn’t. He looked up into Obi-Wan’s flushed face—his pupils were blown black, his expression so possessive and kind.

Obi-Wan asked, apparently needing to confirm, “You’re sure about this?” 

Anakin bit his bottom lip, letting go of his legs and wrapping them around Obi-Wan’s hips instead, pulling him closer. “Please…”

Obi-Wan exhaled and nodded. He reached back and lined up the head of his cock with Anakin’s slick hole, rubbing it gently for a moment before flexing his hips and pushing inside, the thick tip opening up the tight muscle. Anakin gasped, his hands moving to cling to Obi-Wan’s neck, and Obi-Wan made a low, pleased rumble and fucked further inside. 

Anakin whined and took it, rocking his hips and arching his back, opening himself up and taking it as best he could. Obi-Wan’s cock was so much bigger than his fingers, so much thicker, so much longer, and it was almost overwhelming, he felt almost split open. He gasped for breath, and Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed him. 

It was so perfect, Obi-Wan’s soft mouth against his own, licking between his lips and tasting his mouth, his tongue touching Anakin’s, sending a shockwave of pleasure through his body, making him shudder and relax. Obi-Wan’s hips snapped forward, and his cock slid in even deeper. Anakin groaned, and Obi-Wan bit his bottom lip, his hips moving even faster. 

Anakin wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, taking advantage of the fact that he could. Obi-Wan’s beard scratched his skin exactly like he’d imagined, his lips were so soft, and he tasted like Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan groaned and thrust harder before going still, and Anakin realized he’d taken the whole thing. He circled his hips gently, exploring the sensation, fucking himself on Obi-Wan’s cock. 

Obi-Wan groaned again, pulling his head back to look at him, and Anakin felt lost in his eyes, he could barely breathe. Obi-Wan rolled his hips back and thrust deeper in, stuffing him full, making him take all of it, again and again. His voice was so deep and satisfied, it made Anakin feel dizzy with pride. “You feel so good, Anakin. I knew you would.”

“Yeah?” Anakin said, disbelieving and overwhelmed. “You thought about fucking me before?”

Obi-Wan laughed at that, his hips moved faster, fucking him harder. He kissed him roughly, biting his bottom lip almost in reprimand. “You are such a brat.”

Anakin whined, his cock leaking more. “Really?”

Obi-Wan went still, kissing him again more softly, letting Anakin roll his hips up, take him exactly how he liked. He broke the kiss and ran a hand through Anakin’s hair, tugging gently. “You are also beautiful, one of the best I’ve ever seen drive, magnificent.”

The praise was so overwhelming, Anakin went still, his eyes wide. Obi-Wan was studying his face, and he seemed disbelieving too. He reached down, wrapping his strong hand around Anakin’s cock, still so slick with oil. He stroked along the length, the pressure was so perfect, and he squeezed on the head.

Alarmed by how close he suddenly was to coming, Anakin tried to warn him, “Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes almost twinkled and he snapped his hips forward, fucking him again, jerking his cock at the same pace. He ordered almost sweetly. “Come on my cock, Anakin. You’re going to come.”

Anakin whimpered and nodded, his eyes squeezing closed and mouth open, making pathetic little whimpers each time Obi-Wan thrust all the way inside him, filling him up. He was rubbing against that same perfect spot, and his hand on his cock was moving faster and faster, the pressure of it was so good, it was too good.  

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “Look at me.”

Anakin blinked and tried to focus, and Obi-Wan smiled, his words rapid and intent. “There you are.” Anakin nodded dumbly, his mouth felt too wet to talk, only able to whimper as Obi-Wan fucked him harder. “Your eyes are so beautiful, darling. I love when you look at me, so bright, angry, beautiful.”

His wrist twisted on Anakin’s cock and Anakin groaned, his face going tight as a tremendous wave of release suddenly overwhelmed him, his come spilling from his cock in hot pulses onto his stomach. Obi-Wan slowed down, gently fucking him through his orgasm, and Anakin complained, his voice shaky. “Don’t stop! I want you to come inside me, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan laughed roughly, kissing him and sucking on his bottom lip, his hips keeping the same steady pace. “You’re so hot, so tight, Anakin, so perfect for me, so good. I’ll come soon, fill you up, don’t worry about that, darling.”

Anakin whimpered at that, holding on tighter to Obi-Wan’s neck, the entire world collapsing to how it felt for Obi-Wan to fuck inside his sensitive body. It was almost too much, but he loved how it felt, laying still as Obi-Wan took him, fucked him exactly how he liked, finishing himself off with his body. “Please!”

Obi-Wan groaned, his rhythm breaking, the force of his thrusts increasing as he buried himself deep inside, his face burying itself in Anakin’s neck as he came. Anakin whimpered with pleasure, holding him close.

After a long, peaceful moment, Obi-Wan kissed his neck gently, pulling his face back, his expression soft and open. He pulled his cock out, and ran his fingers through the come that came behind, showing it to Anakin. “Is this what you wanted?”

Anakin smiled widely and nodded. Obi-Wan just shook his head and collapsed to his side, lying on his back and catching his breath. Anakin huffed and rolled with effort onto his side, curling onto his chest, ignoring the twinge of pain in order to be close. Obi-Wan stroked his back, reaching lazily for Anakin’s t-shirt, cleaning them both off haphazardly and then giving up, relaxing back. “This really isn’t what I planned when I came here.”

“Yeah?” Anakin asked, and yawned widely. 

Obi-Wan smiled at him, dimples appearing again. “No, it’s really not.”

Anakin nuzzled his cheek against his chest, appreciating the sensation of his chest hair against his cheek. “What did you expect?”

“I was going to get you to stop stressing and go to sleep.”

“How did you know I wasn’t asleep?”

“I guessed,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I know how much it means to you to drive for the team, Anakin. I know how much you internalize mistakes. I wanted to set you free from that anger, make sure you know that I forgive you for today.”

Anakin went still, and then looked at him, suddenly back on the verge of tears. “You do?”

Obi-Wan sighed, squeezing him gently. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Anakin exhaled, blinking quickly, and he rested his head back against his chest. “I’m glad.”

Obi-Wan kissed the top of his head and sighed. “You know I don’t mind you racing, Anakin, but what you do sometimes is suicide.”

Anakin scoffed. “You know I've been driving basically since I could walk. I'm very good at it.”

“You are,” Obi-Wan agreed quietly, holding him close. “You are the best.”

The forecast had promised thunder after sunset, and Obi-Wan was tired of waiting. The sun had long since slipped below the horizon, and if a storm was going to happen, it would have to happen soon or not at all. He wasn’t sure he could endure another day if it didn’t. 

He rolled down the window in the backseat of his Uber and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and letting the muggy evening air rush over his face as the car accelerated. He was drunk enough from the pub crawl that the wind was captivating to his senses, almost soft with the humidity, thick and damp in his lungs. 

The entire summer so far had been hot and humid in a way that smothered all higher thought, the pressure building and building until it was almost intolerable. All week there had been a growing stillness and hush of a pressure front about to break violently. Obi-Wan was going to break. 

He played absently with the slightly rough edge of his beard, smoothing down his mustache. The pop music on the radio was generic and harmless, the beat fading into a pleasant haze. It was a strange feeling to have such a sweet, golden buzz in the body mixed with a storm in the mind. 

His thoughts kept circling on the different kinds of pressure that had been building at home. Every day the increasing tension turned down like a tightening screw. He had gone out with friends for drinks downtown to try to escape it, but the pressure traveled with him. It was in his mind, after all. His heart. 

The harsh city lights quickly slid away into the lush dark of tree-lined residential streets, and Obi-Wan almost regretted that the drive didn’t extend longer into the night. He dreaded arriving home, and yet he’d also left early as though tugged back, unable to stay away for long. Qui-Gon was at a conference across the country, the house itself would be empty, but…

All too soon, the Uber pulled to a stop at his address and Obi-Wan gave the driver a thankful smile and a high rating, clambering out of the car with a moderate amount of grace. He could usually hold his liquor very well, so his sloppiness was a testament to just how much money he’d spent on alcohol to forget about his problems. Not that it had worked. 

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his chino shorts and ambled up the long path from the curb, making his way up the stairs of several small terraces toward the porch and the ornately carved wooden doors. Dooku’s old house was on the historic registry, set far back from the sidewalk on a large, tree-lined lot. It was stately brick with elegant columns, clearly older than the surrounding houses, as if the neighborhood had grown up and crowded around it, which wasn’t far from the truth. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the back of the property, to the small, round window in the second story of the detached carriage house that Qui-Gon had long-ago turned into a printmaking studio. He smiled to see warm light spilling onto the grass, flickering as someone moved around inside. If he listened closely, he could hear the muffled bass notes of music that was just on the acceptable side of the maximum volume agreed upon after noise complaints from next door. 

Complaints that had happened too many times over the years, ever since… Anakin. 

Obi-Wan sighed and cracked his neck, forcing himself to go inside the house. He had no real reason to go visit, no plausible excuse to go over there at night. He shouldn’t even want to see him this badly, he rebuked himself sharply. Just because he rather liked to talk to him and maybe look at him too much didn’t mean he should go. It would be wrong, and not why Qui-Gon let Anakin move in. He’d given him a job.

Qui-Gon was a rather famous bookmaker, a master at woodblock printing, and a member of the local book arts guild. He was also a part time art teacher for several local underserved public schools. Obi-Wan was his apprentice, almost a son at this point, well prepared to take over the press whenever Qui-Gon wanted to retire, and had bemusedly watched Qui-Gon’s various project students over the years.  

Qui-Gon had taken a very particular interest in mentoring Anakin after he’d won a competition to design the mascot for his elementary school, identifying him as a tremendous artistic talent that was at risk of being wasted without extra guidance. He kept him after school for art club whenever he could, otherwise inviting him to the studio on weekends, and over the years coming to fill an important place in the life of the boy desperately missing a father figure. 

One summer when Anakin was a teen, Qui-Gon had asked Obi-Wan to help him clear out the attic above the carriage house as a studio space, and they’d become friends during that project. Anakin had spent more and more time there until he graduated high school, learning from Obi-Wan and hanging out in the studio, sketching. After his mother died, he’d almost never left. He formally became a second apprentice to Qui-Gon, and settled in to learn the craft of book arts. 

Obi-Wan was shamefully glad he’d stayed instead of going off for an arts degree somewhere far away. He didn’t like to examine the reasons why, but lately, he also couldn’t think about anything else but getting closer to him. His inappropriate feelings were making him feel sick and disgusted with himself, and it was getting so much worse every year as Anakin became older, taller, broader, more mature. 

Anakin had been terse and annoyed with him lately anyway, and had been spending most of his time locked up in his studio. Obi-Wan simply missed him, and was disturbed to realize just how much. He couldn’t believe that somehow Qui-Gon’s scrawny little project had become his best friend. It hadn’t always been like this. He was sure it hadn’t been like this. It wasn’t…

The front door unlocked with a satisfying clunk, and he went into the gloomy entrance hall, accidentally slamming the door behind him. He tossed his keys in the bowl, toeing off his shoes and feeling only slightly unsteady. His eyes fell on a framed photograph of Anakin graduating high school several years before, a proud grin showing all his white teeth, his arm slung around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and he was so young.

Obi-Wan shook his head and ambled back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He drank it slowly, listening to the grandfather clock in the hallway tick loudly. He was drawn to look out the back window despite himself. Anakin’s music surely must be too loud, it tugged so insistently on Obi-Wan’s attention. 

Without having made the decision consciously, Obi-Wan found himself going out the back door, shivering at the sensation of bare feet in the cool grass as he crossed the lawn. He could hear thunder on the horizon, a deeper, rumbling bass than that emanating from Anakin’s space, and he was thrilled that the storm was finally coming, the weather was breaking, finally.  

He carefully made his way up the external stairs to the second floor, drawn like a moth to a flame to Anakin’s door. He was about to knock when he noticed it was already ajar, and his hand dropped without making contact as he looked into the studio through the gap, unable to disturb the unexpected scene before him. 

Anakin was… throwing paint at the wall. 

This was new, something far removed from his usual charcoal sketches. He had clearly primed two large wooden panels and leaned them against the wall, providing himself a vast, white canvas to fill. He aggressively slashed a brush laden with paint in order to fling the excess against the wood in a violent splatter of red. He was also… 

Obi-Wan felt a pulse of arousal and shivered. The attic studio was clearly much hotter inside than it was outside, and the box fans at the windows were doing hardly anything. Anakin’s hair was damp with sweat, and he had stripped out of his usual shirt and jeans. He was standing in nothing but black boxers, his long, bare legs and strong back were on display, with so much exposed skin, his legs splattered with flecks of red.

He loaded up his brush again, head bouncing along to the beat of some rock song with screaming vocals that was swiftly giving Obi-Wan a headache, and then slashed the brush down again, adding a thick column of red in the center of the panel. Obi-Wan was mesmerized by the way his muscles moved smoothly beneath the skin of his back and arms as he splashed paint, a living, moving statue. 

Anakin’s right arm was so dark with the mechanical tattoo sleeve he'd been working on for years, the contrast so striking against the relatively pale skin of his bicep. There was a new blue streak in his curly hair, and a new ring on the cartilage of his left upper ear. He looked good, but he always looked good. It was impossible for him to look bad. 

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly as Anakin bent forward, exposing a flash of the back of his upper thighs, to set down his paint on the floor and pick up a cheap, green glass bottle of beer that had been at his feet. He stood up straight and rolled his shoulders back, finishing off the last of the beer with a satisfied sigh. He eyed the dripping painting thoughtfully before turning to toss the bottle toward the recycling bin.

Obi-Wan realized that he was about to be caught, but wasn’t fast enough to do anything about it. Hopefully Anakin was in a better mood… 

Their eyes met, and he watched as Anakin’s brows lifted in surprise before he scowled and looked away. His voice was sullen, and he continued stubbornly on his path to the small refrigerator in his kitchenette. 

“What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, taken aback slightly by how pretty that flash of Anakin’s blue eyes had been, with his smudged dark eyeliner and naturally long dark lashes. “Your music…” 

Anakin’s head snapped sharply over at his sound system and the mark that Obi-Wan had drawn in sharpie on the volume knob. “It’s fine.”

“I meant… I heard it and knew you were awake. What are you doing?”

“Basket weaving,” Anakin said flatly, grabbing two beers by the necks and carrying them back to his supply table. He swirled a saturated paintbrush around a small bowl full of red paint, turning away and splattering it on the wood with enough force to make Obi-Wan jump, creating an archipelago of crimson across a bare corner.

“Can I watch?”

“Fine.” 

Obi-Wan pushed open the door at the same time that Anakin tossed him one of the bottles of beer, and he barely caught it. He rolled his eyes as Anakin smirked, and a small knot of tension released low in his gut at the sight of Anakin’s smile, even if it was still slightly sour. 

He left the door open all the way behind him to invite in any cross breeze and entered Anakin’s space. As best he could, he ignored the general disorder, pointedly not allowing himself to look at where the sheets were messy on Anakin’s mattress on the floor in the corner. He focused instead on the walls covered in haphazardly tacked up drawings. Every surface was cluttered with tools, mugs, art supplies. It was all so… Anakin. 

Obi-Wan came to stand at Anakin’s side, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the splattered paint. “It’s very… red.”

Anakin scoffed and slashed the paintbrush in an intentional flick that left a streak of a darker color of crimson layered on top of a scarlet splatter. He pulled back and flicked some smaller dots. 

Obi-Wan watched as gravity took one puddle of red, and the excess paint slowly slid down the wood. “Is the dripping…”

Anakin flashed him a grin, and Obi-Wan had to pull his eyes away from the flash of silver of his lip ring. “All part of the art, old man.”

“Ah.” Obi-Wan felt such a swell of fondness for how absurd this all was, how Anakin’s mercurial moods sometimes resulted in things like this. He was making such a mess, getting a frankly murderous red paint splatter on everything from the floor to the ceiling, but it did look like fun.

As he looked with awe at the crime scene style carnage around, he couldn’t help but notice a sketchbook lying open on Anakin’s low couch. He could tell at once that it was the large black book that Anakin always kept closed and private, and that he wasn’t supposed to see inside, but… he thought he recognized…

He wandered over to the couch as if to a siren’s call, and picked the book up absently, confirming that it really was his own face. He felt slightly woozy. Anakin was drawing him? Like this?

He shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He set down his beer and traced the lines of the drawing with his fingertips. It was a detailed, flattering portrait that made him look far more handsome than he did in real life. 

He felt his cheeks flush to imagine Anakin spending hours on this, and felt a swell of guilt at invading his privacy, but it was him, his face… He went to close the sketchbook, but then noticed another portrait on the page before, and it was also him, and the one before that… it was all him…

“Hey!”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up as Anakin spoke sharply, and he startled as a spray of red paint narrowly missed the drawing on the open page, instead splattering all over his shirt and face. He cursed, looking over with offense. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse you!” Anakin flicked paint at him again, and Obi-Wan dodged, clutching the sketchbook closed defensively to protect the art. “Put that down!”

Obi-Wan stared at him, evading a bit more paint, trying to understand. “It’s all me…“

“Down!”

Obi-Wan dropped it on the couch and raised his hands innocently, backing away and then glowering when Anakin flipped one last, unnecessary, punitive splatter of red at his face. His heart was pounding, and he scooped up a bowl of white paint and one of the brushes in one smooth motion, slinging paint back at Anakin in self-defense. 

He regretted it immediately, unable to breathe as a thick, sloppy streak of white paint slapped up Anakin’s tan stomach and chest before turning into a delicate spray of white dots up and around his long neck. 

Anakin’s eyes gleamed bright with offense, his cheeks still flushed. He swiped a hand through the white paint sliding down his muscled stomach and moved quickly forward, coming close and smearing it on Obi-Wan’s cheek and down his neck. Obi-Wan quickly jerked his face back, the paintbrush still in his hand, and he dragged it across Anakin’s bare chest as if to push him back.

Anakin resisted being moved, stealing the brush and tossing it away. He put his hands on his hips and evaluated Obi-Wan, eyes narrowed and speculative as they took in the mess he’d made of him. “You’re drunk.”

“Tipsy.”

“Tipsy,” Anakin echoed dubiously.   

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and then nodded at Anakin’s beer. “You are too.” 

“Barely.”

Obi-Wan thoughtlessly ran his fingers through the white paint sliding down Anakin’s chest, and then he came to his senses, yanking his hand back and wiping it off on his shirt with an awkward little laugh. “I suppose we need to get cleaned off.”

Anakin sighed and shrugged, smearing the rest of the wet paint across his stomach, and making it stop dripping onto his boxers. “Do you want to stay and help? You’re already dirty.”

“Help?” 

“Drink beer and throw paint at the wall, Obi-Wan, it’s not that hard.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said warmly, a smile spreading, pleased at being invited to stay, despite everything, and willingly set aside the issue of the drawings, for the moment. “Yes, of course.” 

Anakin looked away as Obi-Wan stripped off his own dirty shirt, wiping at his face and then grimacing at the sensation of paint being rubbed into his beard. He grabbed his beer and wandered to the small bathroom to wash the paint off his face before it dried, and he shut off the sink just in time to hear the faint rumble of distant thunder out the window. He remarked loudly over his shoulder. “It’s going to rain.”

“Is it?” Anakin sounded skeptical from the other room. “It’s been supposed to for days.”

“I know.”

Obi-Wan stared at his reflection in the bright bathroom light, washing the paint out of his beard as gently as possible and trying to get the sketchbook out of his mind. Anakin had drawn him so many times, for years, the style of the beardless one at the beginning was teenaged, the last one so recent, he’d been working on it today, probably…

Obi-Wan took a long drink of the terrible, cheap beer, chasing the warm buzzing feeling from earlier. He felt a swell of fondness for Anakin’s absolute lack of pretension when it came to beer, and much else. He came back out as Anakin was busy mixing up three new shades for Obi-Wan. 

“Why red?”

Anakin shrugged. “Felt red.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that. “Want to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not,” Anakin said, huffing a laugh. “No way.”

“Fair enough.” 

Obi-Wan took the paints Anakin offered him and the brushes, turning his attention to the panels. With Anakin’s nod of permission, he collected some paint and flicked his wrist, and a wide, light spray of red hit the wall. He met Anakin’s knowing eyes and smiled. It was just as satisfying and fun as he’d assumed it would be. 

They covered the canvas together splash by splash. It was lovely—they were wordlessly in sync and in implicit agreement about keeping the canvas balanced. Anakin kept pushing the piece darker and Obi-Wan countered again and again with white and his more vibrant shades on top. 

He eventually got Anakin to turn the music to something without screaming, and time slid by in a warm haze. This is where Obi-Wan had wanted to be all along. Trying to be elsewhere had been stupid. Expensive, noisy, crowded, and pointless. He found himself talking without realizing he’d begun. “Tonight was exhausting.”

“But…” 

“What?” 

Anakin gave him a piercing look. “I thought you were out seeing your ex.” 

Obi-Wan blinked, surprised. “Yes, well. Not seeing her like that, Anakin. It wasn’t just us two. Mon and her loathsome husband were there. Bail and Breha too. Jar Jar was there.”

Anakin’s brush stilled. “Really?”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “How did you know I was with Satine? Anakin…” 

Anakin looked slightly evasive. “Heard your call with Qui-Gon.” 

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”

“I know…” Anakin said, justifying himself, not guilty at all. “I was just trying to figure out when he’s coming back. I haven’t finished making all the marbled paper he asked for.”

“Seriously?” 

Anakin pouted, his bottom lip jutting out, eyes wide and beseeching. “It’s boring. I hate it.”

“I find it meditative,” Obi-Wan said lightly, giving him an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Exactly!”

“Get Ahsoka to help you. That’s the whole point of apprentices. Make them do the boring parts.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes and Obi-Wan smiled, thinking of Qui-Gon’s latest discovery, and how she had imprinted on Anakin like a duckling. He scooped more white paint onto his brush, evaluating the wooden panels for imbalance, but Anakin held up a hand before he could flick any more paint. 

“It’s done.” 

“It is?” Obi-Wan tipped his head to the side, evaluating. 

Anakin did one last decisive slash of black for good measure and then stepped back. “Now it’s done.” 

“How can you tell?” 

Anakin made a soft, thoughtful sound. “It’s… balanced. I don’t know. I just know that it’s done. Don’t you agree?” 

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, eyes finding a pleasing sort of order emerging from the chaos. “I think I see what you mean.”

“Good,” Anakin said happily. “Help me lay them flat, I don’t want any more dripping.” 

Obi-Wan hastened to help him set the panels down to dry, collecting the various bowls and brushes and taking them to the sink to soak. Anakin lazily wiped himself off, and kept looking back at the painting as they tidied up with a proud, satisfied expression that Obi-Wan was pleased to have been able to witness, let alone help create. 

Eventually Anakin closed all the doors and windows in anticipation of rain. He sat heavily on the low couch, kicking his feet out. Obi-Wan joined him, and they worked to kill the last of the beer, listening to a band Obi-Wan didn’t recognize. They were both well buzzed, and Obi-Wan realized with a lazy smirk that they were literally watching paint dry, and he didn’t mind—anything was entertaining when Anakin was there. 

Lightning flashed for the first time, and their eyes connected, waiting for the distant roll of thunder. The wind was picking up, the rushing of leaves loud in the trees, the first drops coming down and striking the window. Obi-Wan finished his beer with a sad sigh and tossed it to the full bin and missed. 

His eyes landed on the sketchbook full of Anakin’s secret drawings, and he pointed at it, his voice lazy and low. “Anakin? Why are those all of me?”

Anakin gave him a sideways look and bit his lip, toying with his lip ring anxiously. He clearly had warring impulses, somehow both ashamed and shameless, and it came out as exasperated hostility. “Take a guess.” 

Obi-Wan studied him, taking in his abundant youth and beauty, why the hell would someone like him want… “Me? Really?” 

Anakin shrugged defensively, slumping back and playing with his beer label, picking at it with his thumb. “I know you don’t feel the same.”

Obi-Wan was silent, still processing his disbelief for another long moment, before he was flushed with a wave of heat, eyes sliding down Anakin’s chest. “Do you really?” 

Anakin rolled his head to the side to look at him, with an adorable, confused wrinkle in his forehead. “Do I really what?”

“Know how I feel.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide as Obi-Wan cautiously placed a hand on his thigh. His breath caught, voice echoing the same disbelief Obi-Wan had felt. “I thought I did.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightened, the tips of his fingers sliding through the light hair on Anakin’s inner thigh. He had a floating, passing thought that this wasn’t right, he wasn’t allowed to do this, but it was easily brushed aside. The only thing that mattered was touching Anakin. “You want me?”

Anakin nodded quickly, and Obi-Wan tipped his head to the side in invitation, sliding his arm between Anakin’s back and the couch, encouraging him to crawl into his lap. Anakin scrambled to comply, clumsily throwing a leg over and straddling him. He was so warm and heavy in Obi-Wan’s lap, and he smelled like paint, beer, and clean sweat.

Obi-Wan grabbed his hips, holding him still and murmuring in his ear. “How do you want me?”

Anakin’s grip tightened on the bare skin of Obi-Wan’s shoulders and he whined, the sound so sweet. He turned his face, brushing their noses together, and he was so close, his breath hot against Obi-Wan’s lips. He shook his head slightly and made a helpless, needy noise.

Obi-Wan took pity on him and closed the gap, pressing their lips together and kissing him fiercely, his eyes sliding closed as he lost himself in it. Anakin whimpered and melted against him, kissing him back and wrapping his arms around his neck. Their lips slid together almost sloppily, and it was perfect, exactly like Obi-Wan had imagined. 

The cool, hard metal of Anakin’s lip ring attracted Obi-Wan’s tongue, and he brushed against it exploratively. Anakin groaned, his hips twitching as Obi-Wan sucked on his bottom lip harder. Everything felt so good, Obi-Wan’s cock ached and throbbed, molten hot arousal sliding down his spine, demanding more. 

Obi-Wan finally broke the kiss, gasping for air, his cock aching. He felt dizzy and reckless, the alcohol driving him onward and giving him the courage to take what he’d secretly wanted for so very long. He slid his palms up and down the soft skin of Anakin’s back, making him shiver. “What do you want, darling?” 

Anakin rolled his hips closer, pressing his hard length against Obi-Wan’s stomach with a quiet whimper. “I don’t know. Anything…” 

Obi-Wan kissed down his neck, licking over his racing pulse before sucking a mark on the small flat spot between his collarbones. His cock throbbed—he’d gotten off in the shower before just thinking of Anakin’s absurdly long neck. He pulled his head back to study Anakin’s blown pupils and pink cheeks. “What do you think about when you’re alone?”

Anakin’s cheeks flushed deeper crimson, and his eyes dropped shyly.  “You never make me say.”

Obi-Wan was charmed by this unexpected display of bashfulness, and bit playfully on one of Anakin’s pecs. “I’m not a mind reader, Anakin.”

Anakin’s hips jerked as Obi-Wan sucked on his nipple, and he whined as Obi-Wan reflexively tightened his grip on his hips. “I want everything. I want whatever you want. Just don’t make me…”

“Don’t make you… choose? You want me to choose for you?” Anakin nodded and Obi-Wan made a low approving noise in his throat, almost dizzy with how hard his cock was. “You want me to tell you what to do.” 

“Please,” Anakin groaned blissfully that Obi-Wan finally seemed to understand. “Tell me.”

Obi-Wan sucked another purple mark on his neck before pushing him back, encouraging him to get up. “Take your boxers off.”

Anakin stumbled slightly to his feet, and nervously hooked his thumbs in the waistband, pushing them down. His hard cock bounced free, and he immediately wrapped his tattooed hand around it, squeezing it tight. He was trembling, desperate to move, and it was so beautiful. “What now?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes slid up and down his strong, lanky body, and absently rubbed his palm on his cock trapped in his pants. “Stand there and let me look at you.” Anakin’s eyes widened in anxiety, and Obi-Wan’s voice pitched lower, a warm reassurance. “Don’t be shy, you’re very beautiful. I like looking at you.” 

Anakin’s cock leaked into his palm, and he exhaled hard as he used his precome to slide his hand up and down his length. “You do?”

“Yes, darling, of course I do.” 

Obi-Wan finally stood up, the world spinning slightly, and he stepped into Anakin’s personal space, drawing close enough to smell him, trailing a finger down his slightly sticky abs to brush the dark golden curls and silky skin of his cock. “Very good. You’re being a very good boy for me, letting me look at you like that.”

Anakin shivered, eyes seeking Obi-Wan’s and begging him silently for something he couldn’t name. Obi-Wan nodded, and gestured toward Anakin’s bed in the corner. “Hands and knees.” 

Anakin’s jaw dropped slightly, and he remained still, paralyzed by a thought he couldn’t say. Obi-Wan could see the words bloom in his throat and then get caught in his mouth, and huffed with exasperation. “Or do you want me to tell you to do something else?” 

Anakin shook his head, swallowing thickly. “It’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s lube, not anything else weird, ok?”

“What?”

Anakin bit his lip and turned away instead of answering. He crossed the room and knelt slowly on the mattress, shooting an almost innocent look back over his shoulder, seeking Obi-Wan’s approval. Obi-Wan nodded, cock throbbing, and Anakin bent forward, spreading his legs slightly and rocking his hips just right, showing off the slightly shiny skin around his entrance. 

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan groaned, and he didn’t even notice himself walking closer, all he could see was Anakin’s ass. He sank to his knees on the mattress behind him, grabbing the round muscles of his cheeks and spreading them further, his thumbs lightly brushing his slick entrance, feeling the impossibly soft skin. He’d been fingering himself, surely, playing with his tight, little hole alone, making himself come on his fingers. Had he been thinking about Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan’s fingers? His cock?

“You…?”

Lightning flashed, and thunder followed after much quicker than before, rain beginning to lash at the windows. Obi-Wan spat on Anakin’s hole and then leaned down to lick it, his tongue circling the rim and making Anakin’s hips rock with surprise. He couldn’t stop kissing and licking him, feeling addicted to the way Anakin moaned, the way his breath caught and shuddered. 

He pulled back, voice deep, rough, and mesmerized. “How long ago did you come?”

Anakin whined, his cock jerking and leaking. “About 10 minutes before you got here.”

Obi-Wan groaned, imagining how it would have been to discover that. “Can you come again?” 

Anakin whimpered and nodded quickly, his legs spreading as if on instinct, and Obi-Wan gave his ass a gentle slap. “Is that lube close?”

“Right there.” Anakin pointed embarrassedly to the half-empty bottle tangled in the sheets, and Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, pulling it close before taking off his shorts and underwear, quickly getting naked too.

The relief of freeing his cock from the tight fabric made him groan. He was already sweating, it was far too humid, the room too hot. He really wanted to open a window and get a breeze going, but he knew they had to protect Anakin’s art from the weather. He noticed how Anakin’s temple was glistening with sweat and leaned forward, tasting his skin, and then kissed Anakin’s blushing cheek when he made an indignant noise at being licked.

Obi-Wan sat back on his heels and popped the top of the lube, slicking up his fingers and teasing Anakin’s hole, trying to make him ask for more. He lost time playing with him, until a teasing stroke of a finger tip that almost went inside but didn’t, and Anakin finally broke and whined. “Please, Obi-Wan, please. I need…” 

Obi-Wan immediately sank the finger inside, spearing him open, and Anakin groaned with relief. “Yes.” 

“Good boy,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyes fixed on how his fingers looked sinking into Anakin’s tight pink hole, how his body swallowed him so easily. “So good for me…” 

“Your finger is so thick,” Anakin whined, his cock hanging heavy and flushed, desperate for contact. “More, Obi-Wan, please…”

“Patience,” Obi-Wan laughed and Anakin almost growled. He was so impossibly soft and warm, his body was tight, but still taking his finger so well as he fucked it in and out easily, so easily. Obi-Wan quickly added another finger, and couldn’t help but groan at how well Anakin took it. 

Lightning flashed again and thunder followed almost immediately after, the sound of rain on the roof only increasing, and the storm was almost on top of them. Obi-Wan sought the nerves of Anakin’s prostate and stroked, smiling when Anakin’s whole body jerked with surprise. Obi-Wan kissed the base of his spine, his fingers moving faster, stroking deliberately against that same spot.

“I want to tease you, draw this out, but you really could take me right now, couldn’t you?”

Anakin whimpered and nodded, his hands grabbing the sheets for leverage to push his hips back, demanding more. “Please!”

Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out, pouring a generous amount of lube on his cock, unable to wait any longer. “I’m afraid this will be over incredibly fast.” 

Anakin looked back over his shoulder, coyly biting his bottom lip and rocking his hips. “Make it up to me later.” 

“I can do that,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. He grabbed Anakin’s hip and roughly flipped him, almost throwing him onto his back and making him squeak with surprise.

“What?”

“I want to look at you,” Obi-Wan said intently, crawling up his body until he hovered over him on his elbows, taking in Anakin’s flushed, sweaty face, how pink and puffy his bottom lip was from being chewed on, how Anakin’s blue eyes were so hazy with happiness and need. “You’re perfect.”

Anakin groaned and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Fuck me now.”

“Greedy,” Obi-Wan said against his lips, kissing him deeply, licking into his mouth. He groaned as Anakin opened up and let him in, tongue pressed against his own. He reached down and tried to line up the head of his cock with Anakin’s ass, giving up when Anakin took over, slapping his hand aside. 

Obi-Wan broke the kiss to moan as he felt Anakin wrap his fingers firmly around his length and press the head of his cock against warm, slick skin. Obi-Wan instinctively thrust his hips forward at the contact, and his eyes slid closed with pleasure as his cock fucked deep into Anakin’s hot, velvety soft body. “Yes…” 

“Oh!” Anakin gasped, his head tipping back, his long neck extended, and Obi-Wan buried his face against it, biting down as he rolled his hips forward again, thrusting deeper inside. Anakin clung to him and moaned as he gently fucked his cock inside over and over until he was buried balls deep, totally lost in Anakin. 

He went still, taking a second to adjust before pulling his head back to look. Anakin’s eyeliner was smudged, his eyes closed, a blissfully pained expression on his face. Obi-Wan used his thumb to wipe the black from under his eyes, making him blink open and make eye contact, and he was so beautiful. 

They were still, studying each other’s expression, the entire room was spinning, the only stable fixed point was his cock inside Anakin. The idea that he was fucking Anakin made his hips jerk forward, and Anakin’s mouth fell open with a little whine that Obi-Wan needed to hear again and again.  

He pulled back to sit on his heels, keeping Anakin on his cock with a tight grip on his hips. Anakin was so perfectly pliant, he moved easily wherever Obi-Wan put him, his back arching beautifully. Obi-Wan slid his hips back and then snapped them forward, filling Anakin with his cock, and watched with satisfaction as Anakin’s eyes rolled back. 

Obi-Wan fucked him steadily and firmly, trying as hard as he could to keep in control of his need to come. Anakin put his hands above his head, pushing against the wall, rocking back against him. The sound of Obi-Wan’s hips slapping against him began to fill the room as he found the right angle.

“Perfect, just like that…”

“Can I?” Anakin asked breathlessly, moving one hand from the wall to his cock, and Obi-Wan nodded, fingers gripping his hips tighter as his thrusts slowed down, with more force. He was so close. 

Anakin’s hand was moving quickly, spreading all the precome that was leaking from the slit and using it to jerk his length. “I wanna…”

“Come,” Obi-Wan encouraged him, his voice rough and breathless with exertion. “Come on my cock.”

Anakin groaned, his wrist twisting with one last squeeze he was coming all over his chest, shiny, white streaks on his abs up to his nipples, mixing with the dried smear of white paint. Obi-Wan groaned, the sight almost painfully perfect, and he pulled his cock out, jerking it quickly and coming on Anakin’s stomach too, until their combined come and sweat and paint marked him as his.

He absently reached forward and ran his fingers through it like it was paint, rubbing it in. “Sorry…” he laughed, feeling breathless and giddy, finally meeting Anakin’s pleasure soaked gaze. “I don’t know why I wanted to do that so badly…”

Anakin hummed, pleased. “Because it’s fucking hot.” 

“Language,” Obi-Wan huffed and collapsed next to him onto the dirty sheets. Anakin rolled over and snuggled close. Obi-Wan made a face as the mess on Anakin's chest pressed against his chest, reaching clumsily for his shorts and wiping them both off. 

He collapsed back into the pillows and Anakin hummed, cuddling back on his chest, face buried in his neck, murmuring in satisfaction. “You’re sweaty.”

“It’s rather hot,” Obi-Wan agreed. The rain was still pounding down on the roof, but it was growing quieter as the storm moved past and away. He knew it was going to smell fresh and clean outside, petrichor from the earth and green leaves. It felt like a new beginning, a new chapter opened.

“When is Qui-Gon coming back?” Anakin asked sleepily, and Obi-Wan made a face, disliking very much thinking of his mentor when they were in bed together. 

“Tuesday, why?”

“The stupid paper,” Anakin grumbled. “Gotta finish.”

Obi-Wan sighed, giving in. “I’ll help.” Anakin’s slow, spreading smile of victory pressed against his skin, and he drunkenly kissed the top of Anakin’s head, pulling him close and smelling his curls. Anakin hummed happily and wiggled, getting comfortable, and they both went still. “We need to actually clean up, you know.”

“Later,” Anakin yawned, drifting off. “Later.”

Obi-Wan didn’t have the heart to wake him up, just held him closer. “Later is fine.”

Anakin Skywalker was not a typical student of Brakebills University for Magical Pedagogy. 

His classmates had all been identified for magical potential and tested during their senior year of high school, matriculating to Brakebills instead of whatever prestigious college they’d planned on attending. They’d all been flagged as unintentionally doing small amounts of magic, enough to register on the seeking globes in Dean Windu’s office. They were brilliant and talented, the elite of the elite, but Anakin made them all look average. 

He was apparently a prodigy at magic. He’d intuitively been using it since at least the first time he inexplicably built a near-sentient computer with legos and force of will at three years old. By the time he was ten, he was making the instruments in Windu’s office spin and whistle almost continually, giving him a headache and prompting him to invite Anakin to campus at an unprecedentedly young age. 

One unremarkable summer day, his life had changed forever. Professor Jinn had opened a portal directly from the small Skywalker home in Arizona, and looking through their front door to the lush green of upstate New York had blown his mom’s mind. Shmi had always struggled with really comprehending Anakin’s magic before, but Anakin had always known it was real. He could feel it buzzing at his fingertips and coiled in his chest in a way that nobody else could. Others had to struggle and train by rote for what he could do by instinct. 

As Qui-Gon had explained regretfully, it was a tremendous and unusual gift, but it was also dangerous—far too dangerous to leave untrained out in the regular world. He said that Anakin probably would’ve hurt himself or others by accident, or he could’ve been kidnapped and used by rogue covens of hedge wizards. It definitely would’ve been more interesting to Anakin than whatever boring bullshit was happening at Brakebills. 

He had been living at the school ever since, under the supervision of a group of junior faculty, and was now 21, almost 22, and almost finished with four out of the five year university program, and completely and totally bored with everything Brakebills. He knew more than the fifth year students about magic, more than half the junior faculty. If he hadn’t made a promise to his mom about getting the degree, he would have left at 19, no matter what Obi-Wan had to say.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had at some point over the last few years evolved from Anakin’s favorite person to the bane of his existence. He was a professor at Brakebills specializing in persuasive magic, but he’d also been the one to be roped by Qui-Gon into teaching Anakin the magical fundamentals he needed to avoid killing himself, and had supervised his independent studies to parallel the high school courses he would have taken all through his teen years. 

Anakin had immediately and deeply loved him, his kind eyes and near infinite patience; no matter how much Anakin tested him, he still cared about him. He was the best and also Anakin never wanted to see him again, despite being forced to see him almost daily. His unrequited feelings were making him feel sick, his crush had turned sour with years of longing, transmuted into a constant desire to annoy and antagonize Obi-Wan as punishment for not loving him back the right way.

Anakin tipped his head back and glared up at the clear blue sky, taking a long, aggrieved inhale of the sweet-smelling spring air. It was an unseasonably warm afternoon on the Brakebills campus, which limped along about two months behind the rest of the world, its concealment spells growing old and out of sync. It would be high summer in Arizona, almost the Fourth of July. He’d stopped paying attention to holidays in the regular world after his mom died and he hadn’t been able to save her.

He watched, resentful and bored out of his mind, as the fifth year Ferus Olin quickly and carefully pronounced an invocation in Sumerian, his fingers moving with practiced grace through the summoning of an earth elemental. He appeared to be doing a particularly complex form of sign language, or maybe playing cat’s cradle with invisible string, and soon enough a towering form of living clay emerged from the ground. 

It roared and captured an unprotected sand square in the middle of the large welters board, and Ferus smiled smugly. His Discipline was a type of Natural Magic, and he was annoyingly good at welters. All of the Naturals were. They’d been playing against Anakin’s team of Physical Magic students for hours, and at this point he was extremely bored. 

He would rather play Quidditch, if it were real. Welters was orders of magnitude more boring than Quidditch would be. For a game that was designed to prevent students dueling each other with illegal battle magic, it captured very little of the adrenaline of direct combat. It was about strategy and fussy spellwork instead, trying to capture squares on a giant outdoor chess board and protect them from the other team. 

At least the board was picturesque, nested in the middle of a large forest meadow, and it wasn’t a bad place to kill time. It was an almost surreal, Alice in Wonderland-esque area; all of the squares were about a meter on each side, covered in different materials: water, stone, sand, grass, and two squares made of silvery metal. The players all stood staggered around the board, used as pieces in the game. 

Ferus’s earth elemental screamed a horrible, gravelly complaint at being summoned, and Anakin rolled his eyes. It was second year magic at best. He knew he could do it better, faster, and with more power, but what was even the point? He would rather be back in Mos Espa, alone out in the desert, enchanting his motorcycle to break the sound barrier. 

He heard the distant class bell toll three times and swore loudly. Darra, another fifth year, shot him an unimpressed look from the square next to him and he apologized for his outburst, grimacing slightly. As much as welters was boring, he’d much rather be outside wasting time than inside a stuffy lecture hall with Obi-Wan. 

“You’re late,” she teased him. “Run along now.”

He scowled at her knowing tone. All of the Physical kids knew about his crush, and never let him forget it. “Enjoy losing without me.”

She barked a laugh, the bright sound of which followed him as he pivoted on his heel and reluctantly jogged off his grassy square on the giant chessboard. He heard her say something and he heard Tru’s infectious laugh behind him. He shouted something Anakin couldn’t hear, but it sounded rude, so he flashed a middle finger back over his shoulder. He really hated his friends sometimes. 

He jogged up the gravel path lined with poplar trees, out onto the wide green lawn called the Sea, and up toward the main building. It was a massive, sprawling residence, with honey-colored stone walls that were studded with large windows. It was covered with towers, chimneys and gables, and in the center was a tall, stately clock tower. 

The bell was silent now, the ornate, barbed hand of the clock sliding inexorably past the hour. He was so late, and Obi-Wan was going to be so mad. It was the second time this week, and he was on his final, final warning. Fuck.

He rapidly wound his way through the cool, shady Maze of tall hedges between the Sea and the house, passing all of the bubbling fountains and easily avoiding the dead ends. No matter how many times the Maze reorganized itself, he could always feel the right way out. He jogged across the stone terrace and tugged the door open to the hushed stillness of the house. 

He hoped that Dean Windu wouldn’t see him and put him on dish duty again. His uniform was all askew, his white dress shirt half untucked, his sleeves shoved up messily. His top buttons were undone to let himself breathe, his tie was loose, and worst of all he’d forgotten his brown and blue striped jacket in his room in the Cottage. He’d just finished weeks of discipline for an identical infraction—the rule was jacket and tie except in one’s room. 

He was so tired of all this stupid twee Brakebills bullshit. He’d never had to wear fancy clothes to class when he’d been a poor kid at public school in Arizona, and as a resident teen had a bit more freedom with what he wore and what he did with his time. It had been so much better back when it was just him and Obi-Wan, and he’d been able to wander and tinker, without being held accountable for the stupidly traditional student code of conduct. 

He jogged up a twisting staircase and down a long hallway to where his Ethics and Applications class was held, taking a bracing breath before opening the wooden door to a large square lecture hall. It was an airy corner room with windows on two sides, and contained four rows of elegant wooden desks set on raked steps like an amphitheater, looking down on a blackboard and a massive scorched stone demonstration table.

The door banged closed behind him, and he winced as Professor Kenobi broke off his lecture mid-sentence, and a few fourth years in the class turned back to look at him. He’d been late so often this year that nobody was surprised, and Anakin flashed a grin at all the annoyed looks. He was more than used to the rest of the fourth years hating him. He’d always destroyed the curve and made them all look like first years, without even doing the homework.  

He shambled casually down the steps toward his desk in the back row, catching his breath, very aware of how loud the sound was in the quiet classroom. Obi-Wan remained silent as he took his seat, watching his progress with an unimpressed expression on his face that made Anakin’s stomach twist into a knot with excitement and dread. 

He pushed his curls off his sweaty forehead, not bothering to hide the arrogance in his voice. “Sorry, Professor. I was playing welters. Lost track of time.” 

“Clock spells are first year magic, Anakin. But as you’ve clearly run here, I suppose we can give you some credit for effort.” Obi-Wan did not sound at all charitable, his tone full of a waspishness that only increased in intensity as he instructed him to sit down. 

“Thanks for the credit, sir.” Anakin smiled blithely and dropped into his seat, tipping his chair back on two legs and earning another stern look. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked over him dispassionately, catching on his messy collar before dropping down to linger on his exposed forearms. “Fix your shirt.” 

Anakin complied with the order with performative reluctance, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly. Obi-Wan looked down at his notes and breathed steadily for a moment before picking up his lecture where he left off, his voice controlled and precise. “These violations of autonomy are unacceptable according to magical law, and we must remember that any form of malign magical coercion is something that the magicians’ code of ethics—”

At the first mention of the code, Anakin immediately zoned out, and allowed Obi-Wan’s voice to wash over him, the sentences of his lecture blending together into a pleasantly accented gibberish track. The class had been discussing the ethics involved with spells that impacted the minds of others for weeks, and Anakin didn’t care much about ethics. 

He knew well that he wasn’t very subtle, his mental magic was always overpowered and heavy handed, and he would always avoid using it if possible. It was not an area of magic he intended to pursue, so he was ethically neutral. There was no reason for him to be forced inside to sit and listen to this pointless bullshit on such a beautiful day. 

He leaned back and wistfully watched the clouds move across the blue sky through the window, waiting for the practical exercises to begin, not bothering with taking notes he’d never read again anyway. Trying out new spells was the only part of class that he actually enjoyed, and it never lasted long enough. His eyes unfocused on the leaves on the trees, which were very green in a way that’d been rare in Arizona, a kind of hyper-saturation that still felt slightly magical, like Brakebills was located in Narnia or Naboo or something. 

“Are you bored?” 

Anakin startled and then shook himself, aware suddenly that people around him were putting away their notes and clearing their desks for practical exercises. Obi-Wan was standing by his desk, his soft beige sweater stretched insufferably tight across his shoulders as he crossed his arms across his chest. His expression was flat, and he was so stupidly handsome, his eyes icy blue and so unimpressed; he was getting so tired of Anakin’s attitude. Good.

Anakin tipped his head back in challenge. “Yes, I’m bored.”

Obi-Wan rubbed the bridge of his nose as though warding off a headache and put a complete, tired lecture into one word. “Anakin.” 

“What? I am bored. Sir.”

Obi-Wan shot him a dark look, as if he wanted to wring his neck, and his banked anger made Anakin feel alive, giving an addictive hit of swooping, buzzing warmth. Antagonizing Obi-Wan was the closest thing he’d found to drag racing on the highway at night, especially now that he’d given up on ever making Obi-Wan happy or getting him to actually like or want him in the right way.

Obi-Wan gestured toward the diagram on the board. “Let’s see it then.” 

Anakin recognized the fingering notation of what was called Lipp’s Primary Einfühlung, an empathy spell that could be refined with sufficient power and complexity into a credible version of mind reading. It was a spellset that would probably be challenging for everyone else in the room, but not for him. 

He sat up straight with a thrill of excitement at the invitation to actually do something real, and threw his hands up into one of the classical opening positions. He shivered as he instinctively wrapped his fingers up in the intangible warmth of the magical substrate that extended beneath and behind reality, gaining a kind of friction and grip on the power that for some reason came so easily to his call.

He really wanted this empathy spell to work and naturally pulled power from his curiosity, increasing the spell’s strength as he pulled and spun his fingers wider apart and then pushed them in tight. Obi-Wan said something that he didn’t process as he deliberately pronounced the German invocation, hands manipulating the energy in a practiced dance. 

All at once, he was filled with a hot flush of irritation that didn’t belong to him, and he dropped his hands, smiling with victory up at Obi-Wan. “I think it worked, Professor.”

Obi-Wan rebuked him sharply, the sensation of his anger filling Anakin with glee. “As always, Anakin, you are always meant to work with your partner, not me.” 

“Sorry, sir. You didn’t specify.”

Obi-Wan’s face remained a familiar, calm mask, but his eyes sparked and his jaw barely moved as he instructed. “Stay after class. We need to discuss your behavior.”

“Yes, sir,” Anakin saluted, shivering at the spike in Obi-Wan’s annoyance in his gut. 

He pouted as Obi-Wan rolled his wrists back, a heavy, silver watch glinting in the afternoon sun, and wove his thick fingers through a pattern that ended Anakin’s spell, slamming down his shields and denying him access to his emotions, though some anger still leaked through.  

“Popper études No. 57 and No. 58, slowly, forward and then backward, until I tell you to stop.”

“What?” Anakin balked at being assigned two notoriously complex and painful fingering exercises for so long. Amelia Popper’s Practical Exercises for Young Magicians often required forcing one's fingers into positions they didn’t want to be in, all stretched apart and circling in opposite directions, which was more difficult than it seemed to get right. “But—”

“It’s not up for debate. Do the études or leave class entirely. You know the consequences of the latter.” 

Anakin’s lip curled contemptuously as he prepared a retort, but Obi-Wan had already turned to help someone else, and he scowled at Obi-Wan’s back as he stepped away. He knew it wasn’t an option for him to skip class again, or else he’d lose what few privileges he’d earned back in the past few weeks. He didn’t want to be locked out of his tinkering workshop for the foreseeable future again, something that turned normally insufferable Brakebills into an actual circle of hell. 

He sighed loudly and shook out his hands and wrists like a virtuoso piano player about to begin a fiendishly complicated piece of music, preparing himself mentally as much as physically. He knew exactly how uncomfortable the exercises were going to be, and his expectations swiftly proved correct. It consumed all of his attention, the world falling away until all that existed was the burning of the muscles in his hands and fingers. 

After about an hour of steady repetition while Obi-Wan ignored him, his hands were beginning to throb sharply. He was bored out of his mind, and the desire for any sort of variety was almost more painful. All of the component gestures of the études were just fundamental building blocks for more complex magical spells, meaningless in themselves, yet they required tremendous precision, control, and endurance to do right. 

It was irritating that Obi-Wan must have placed a monitoring charm on him. He stopped by both times Anakin began to get even a little bit sloppy, frowning down at him and inadvertently sending waves of disapproval through the lingering empathy spell. The intensity of Anakin's curiosity about what Obi-Wan had been feeling earlier had over-powered his spell, as often happened with his strong emotions, and he wondered how long it would take to fade completely. 

He didn’t mind it. Obi-Wan probably did.

Good.

After something like an eternity, the bell rang and signaled the end of the lesson. Anakin ground his teeth, hyperaware that Obi-Wan was watching him with the silent, inexorable expectation that he would finish. He pushed himself through the final, most fiddly section of No. 58 and let his hands fall onto the desk with a thump, his breathing grown shallow and fast under Obi-Wan’s undivided attention. 

Obi-Wan had crossed his arms and was leaning almost casually back against the demonstration table, his expression mild and inscrutable as he waited. As soon as Anakin finished, he lifted a hand and beckoned him to come down and join him in the front by the table. He studied Anakin as he approached, patiently waiting until the silence became intolerable. 

Anakin came to a kind of parade rest in front of him, squaring his shoulders, massaging each of his sore hands as they clasped behind his back. “Something wrong?” 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You tell me. I’ve known you for many years now, Anakin, and you’ve been far more disruptive and disrespectful than usual over the past few months. I’m concerned about your trajectory here.”

Anakin tipped his head to the side, brow furrowing. He was unsure what Obi-Wan wanted him to say, and not overly interested in making him happy anyway. “I’m bored.”

“So you’ve said before, many times,” Obi-Wan said without a hint of sympathy. “That hardly excuses you acting out like this. You’re not a child.”

“No, I’m not,” Anakin agreed, wishing Obi-Wan would treat him like an adult in other, more important ways. He repeated emphatically. “I am not a child.”

“Then why are you acting like one?”

“I’m being forced to live like one!” Anakin’s raised voice was very loud in the hushed classroom. He set his jaw and looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder to the blackboard full of his neat handwriting. It was essential that he ignore how simultaneously handsome and forbidding Obi-Wan was, lounging in front of him like a big cat, coiled and ready to pounce, eyes sharp.

“So what are you hoping to achieve with this disrespectful behavior? What do you want to happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Anakin threw up his hands, his cheeks growing warmer and warmer the longer Obi-Wan stared at him. “I don’t want a curfew and a dress code anymore! I want to do more powerful spells, with bigger stakes and less busywork first. I want to learn restricted things, like battle magic, and—”

“No, Anakin.”

“Yes!” Anakin shot back with a rebellious scowl. “I just want to do something, anything interesting! You’re holding me back! I’m so fucking tired of ethics lectures and all this tiny, boring magic. I want something real, something dangerous, something hard!”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Might I remind you that you lack the control for anything like that? You’d overestimate your abilities and turn yourself into a niffin within a week without supervision. You’re not yet capable of anything resembling the subtlety required to pull off that kind of magic, and you know it.”

“I don’t need to be subtle to enchant a car to drive to the moon, Obi-Wan!”

“Yes, you do!” Obi-Wan snapped. “You still have much to learn.” 

Anakin scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, and Obi-Wan pushed off the table to loom closer into his personal space. Anakin went still as he moved forward, his breath catching, almost dizzy with his proximity. 

Obi-Wan’s voice had increased in intensity and dropped in volume, and Anakin couldn’t help but sway closer to hear him speak. “Your behavior has been completely unacceptable. Your arrogance and impatience are wildly out of control. Stop being such a brat and disrupting everyone else’s education because you want more attention.” 

Anakin tore his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s lips, molten heat pooling in his gut and making his knees feel weak. It’d been many, many years since Obi-Wan had called him a brat. He definitely couldn’t think of a time since he’d grown taller than him, and the way Obi-Wan’s accent shaped the word and the hot, spiky emotions it carried inside—it was intoxicating. 

What would Obi-Wan do if he just dropped to his knees and begged for it?  

He swallowed thickly, willing his erection down. “Sorry, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a withering look, and he corrected himself more weakly. “Sorry, sir.”

“What is it going to take for you to grow up and calm down, Anakin? What is going to make you take these classes seriously, and actually listen to what I have to say?”

“Can I prove I’m ready to move on?” Anakin asked desperately. “Let me prove I’m already done with all of this, let me prove you should let me do something else instead!”

“The answer to that is still no.”

“Please,” Anakin begged. “If I can show you a Lipp’s with all of the Circumstances right and all of the refinements and at full potential. If I show you that, can I skip class for the rest of the week? I wouldn’t be interfering with anyone’s education then, Professor.”

“You want me to reward you for using magic on a teacher?” Obi-Wan shook his head dismissively. “You know better.”

“I’m sorry about doing that! I won’t do it again.”

“You’re mistaken in thinking that this is a negotiation where you can offer suggestions about what happens next.” 

“I promise I’d be good, I promise, if you let me show you, Professor. Just let me show you!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and appeared to notice at the same time as Anakin exactly how close they were standing despite the large room. It was as if their faces had pulled together magnetically while they argued, and Anakin could see every shade of blue in Obi-Wan’s eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks from anger, his lips thin and pressed together. 

Anakin swayed forward as Obi-Wan stepped back, and he caught himself, standing up straight again, trying to look reasonable and mature. “I know I can do it, sir. I’ll stop being a problem, I promise.”

Obi-Wan ran a hand down his beard, smoothing it and wiping his expression clean of any emotion. “Fine.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, breathless with incredulity. “Thank you!”

“If you fail in any capacity, I’m handing you over to the Dean for punishment, and making sure Mace knows that it should be extremely severe.” Anakin swallowed thickly and nodded again. Obi-Wan gave him a warning look. “I expect the spell to be completely correct, with every single possible refinement, and you owe me a 10 page paper on Moore's Principia Ethica, in addition to the previously assigned coursework.”

Anakin nodded quickly. “Of course, yes, anything! And it will be perfect, I promise!” 

Obi-Wan sighed and lifted his hands, his fingers moving with practiced fluidity through a series of shield and monitoring spells. His use of magic was so elegant; Anakin followed the way he hooked the index and middle finger of his right hand, and it made his breath catch. Obi-Wan’s hands were always distracting.  

Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows, offering Anakin the proverbial rope to hang himself. “Go ahead. Show me.”

Anakin nodded seriously and shook out his hands, grateful for all of the warm up from the études. He took a moment to center himself, mentally running through all of the adjustments he was going to have to make. His fingers extended fluidly as he pushed them through the precise angles and curves of the spell. A short German incantation flowed smoothly from his lips, paired with the subtlest of gestures, channeling the magical energy with maximum efficiency and efficacy. 

Obi-Wan was watching him coolly, just waiting for him to fuck up, and it gave him a burning incentive to get everything right. He wanted so badly to impress, and to find out what was happening inside Obi-Wan’s mind—his earlier burning curiosity had returned in a conflagration of need to know more. 

He let the power well up in his chest and shoved it out, gasping with surprise as he felt the spell catch and punch through Obi-Wan’s shield. It felt almost like he’d fallen through his eyes and flipped gravity, his stomach turning as he activated a mind-bending kind of double vision—he was both here and there, inside and out, himself and Obi-Wan.

The refined and over-powered empathy spell echoed Obi-Wan’s thoughts in his own mind, so he was watching his own mouth from Obi-Wan’s perspective. It was surreal and disorienting—Obi-Wan was thinking about the pink flick of his tongue as he licked his lips, and the image was accompanied by a sense of satisfaction and approval that vanished in a puff of horrified surprise and a strong pang of a phrase. “What the fuck?”

Anakin blinked quickly, attempting to readjust and settle into being alone in his mind, reeling from how abruptly he’d been kicked out of Obi-Wan’s mind. They stared blankly at each other, and Obi-Wan laughed once, a dark, humorless sound that came more out of surprise than any kind of amusement. “You’re the first student ever to do that. I should’ve expected it.” 

“Yes,” Anakin said, his heart racing. Obi-Wan had been looking at his mouth with satisfaction. 

He felt high on his success, getting a taste of Obi-Wan’s mind made him ravenous for more. Without thinking too hard, he cast the spell again with even more power, murmuring the incantation. Obi-Wan’s eyes dropped to his lips involuntarily at the sound of his voice as Anakin slipped back forward through his pupils into his mind. 

He saw his mouth again, this time open and wet and gasping around—

He staggered forward with surprise as Obi-Wan ended the spell with much more force, his hand slashing down and out angrily. He grabbed Anakin by the back of his neck, squeezing tight, his eyes narrow and tone intent. “Ever do that again, and I’ll drag you before the Magicians’ Court.”

“Liar,” Anakin whispered, blinking fast, unsteady on his feet, Obi-Wan’s hold keeping him upright. They were close enough that he felt the heat of Obi-Wan’s breath on his lips. “You wouldn’t. You won’t.” 

Obi-Wan shook him slightly, fingers gripping even tighter, making him whimper. Magicians’ hands were always unusually strong from the demands of casting, and it hurt for Obi-Wan to scruff him like this. “Don’t test me, Anakin.”

“Sorry, sir,” Anakin whispered, swallowing a whine. “I’m sorry. I just… I just…”

He couldn’t think with Obi-Wan’s fingers tangled and tugging sharply on the messy curls on his neck. His breath was so fast and shallow, his eyes were wide as Obi-Wan’s heated frustration radiated across the lingering empathy spell—he was so deeply displeased, and there was a flush to his cheeks as Anakin had pushed him closer and closer to the edge of his composure. 

He wasn’t letting go. Time seemed to both pause and accelerate as Anakin felt poised on the edge of an abyss he’d opened somehow and was desperately trying to dive inside. He’d gotten Obi-Wan to touch him, and it had never, ever lasted this long before. He almost had no idea what to do now that he’d gotten some of what he’d wanted. Forward or back, but he couldn’t stay here. 

The same recklessness as before washed over him, and he made a choice, knowing it was absolutely wrong but unable to resist. He licked his lips and then said the incantation again with even more fervor, his fingers twisting quickly as he cast the spell for a third time. He dove headlong into Obi-Wan’s dark eyes, pushing even deeper into his mind to observe and understand. 

He couldn’t mask his moan as the vivid picture in Obi-Wan’s mind echoed in his own, and he felt the livid, sparkling intensity of Obi-Wan’s want as twisting heat in his gut. He saw himself bent over the demonstration table with pink handprints all over his ass, whimpering and crying his apologies as Obi-Wan slipped the head of his thick cock inside and then thrust roughly, pushing himself in deep.

Obi-Wan shoved him away, and he stumbled, his lower back hitting the demonstration table. He winced, the edge was not particularly sharp but still very solid, and it would probably bruise. He might have fingertip bruises on his neck from Obi-Wan’s hand, Obi-Wan could have already marked him. He wanted more…

Obi-Wan was glaring at him, his anger almost lethally cold. “What did I literally just say, Anakin?”

Anakin gaped at him, unable to form the words to reply. He was dizzy with how little blood was left in his brain, their mutual arousal washing over him and drowning him, his cock painfully hard. He’d scarcely allowed himself to really imagine sex with Obi-Wan before, and to see it from Obi-Wan’s perspective and see him, feel him, all flushed with his desire…  

He scrambled and reached for the fastening of his pants, fumbling hastily with the button. “Do it. Please.”

Obi-Wan’s hands struck out quick as a snake, seizing his wrists and squeezing them achingly tight. “Absolutely not.”

Anakin whined, yanking his captured hands back toward his chest and pulling Obi-Wan closer until they were nose-to-nose. The inches between their lips felt charged and crackling with energy, and Obi-Wan’s head rocked back as he tried to pull away, but Anakin wouldn’t let him go, quickly switching their grip until he was the one holding Obi-Wan’s wrists. 

“Why not, Obi-Wan? Why can’t we?”

Obi-Wan tugged away and glowered as he failed to break free. “Are you trying to get me fired? Is that your goal?”

Anakin shook his head quickly. “I won’t tell. Nobody has to know.” 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply, but Anakin didn’t let him, determined to collapse the distance between them, show Obi-Wan how good he could be. He twisted around to face the demonstration table, parting Obi-Wan’s wrists and tugging his hands either side of his hips toward the table. 

He yanked Obi-Wan close behind him, so that his back connected with Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan exhaled with surprise and then groaned as Anakin bent forward, his ass rubbing provocatively against something hard. “Anakin…” 

Obi-Wan’s breath was hot and damp on the nape of Anakin’s neck, and the sensation sent a shiver down his spine, his cock throbbing and leaking in his pants. He moaned and rolled his hips back again, leaning forward over the table and rubbing against the hard line of Obi-Wan’s cock, reveling in the way Obi-Wan sounded like he’d been punched. 

“It’s against the code of conduct, Anakin, and…” He could feel Obi-Wan’s desire and hear his wavering resolve. “We can’t… We couldn’t. You cannot keep secrets.”

“Enchant me then,” Anakin begged, looking over his shoulder, tightening his hold on Obi-Wan’s wrists. “Keep me quiet, I don’t care how. I know you can. I could too.” 

“Stop this, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded wrecked, and he weakly tried to pull back, but the effort was performative at best. “You just sat through a lecture on the ethics of mental magic, now you want me to use it to abuse my position and cover up the crime?”

Anakin scoffed. “I wasn’t listening.”

“I know.” 

It sounded like Obi-Wan wanted to bite his neck with frustration and was barely holding himself back, his voice more like a growl, which made Anakin shiver and whine. “It’s not a crime. It’s not illegal.”

“It’s against the rules, Anakin.” 

“But I want it…” He resorted to begging, rocking back against Obi-Wan again, trying to please him enough that it’d encourage him to want more. “Please, Obi-Wan, Professor, sir. I want it, please—!”

“When did you become such a slut?” Obi-Wan sounded like he’d stopped thinking about what he wanted to say, the barrier between his brain and his mouth gone, his private thoughts spilling out. “You’ve been baiting and begging me for months to touch you, panting for it. Are the other students not satisfying you? Is that it? Seducing the faculty now too?”

“Just you,” Anakin rushed to clarify. “Only you, sir.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to scoff. “Very cute.”

“It’s true,” Anakin said desperately. He let go of Obi-Wan’s wrists, hoping he’d stay in place as he rushed to push his pants down his thighs. He bent forward again over the demonstration table, offering up the bare skin of his ass. He felt a swoop of adrenaline at how many rules he was breaking, how far he was pushing, how risky this was. He felt so alive. “Please!”

Obi-Wan’s hands had jumped from the table to grab him, maybe try to stop him, but he wasn’t quick enough, and his hands instead wrapped around the bare skin of his hips, squeezing tight enough to make him squeak. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded him roughly. “Don’t—” Anakin made a needy little noise that made Obi-Wan stop talking abruptly, his hands gripping even tighter, the sound of his breathing increasingly ragged. “Anakin.” 

Anakin tried to rock his hips back, but Obi-Wan wouldn’t let him move, and he let out a sad whine. His entire world had narrowed down to the pressure of Obi-Wan’s strong hands, the warmth of his palms on his skin, and how the rough cloth of his pants rubbed against his bare ass, his cock was unmistakably hard, and pressed so close to where he wanted it. 

He could barely speak, his mouth was hanging open as he struggled to breathe, his speech sloppy and slightly slurred with need. “Please, god, please, sir.” 

“I really shouldn’t do this,” Obi-Wan said with resignation, his hips finally rocking forward and rubbing his erection against Anakin’s ass. They both exhaled with relief at the spike in pressure. 

“Yes,” Anakin groaned in agreement as he gave in. Finally. “Thank you, yes.”

He looked back with alarm as the reassuring warmth of Obi-Wan’s body disappeared. He only felt hotter watching Obi-Wan casually throw up a quick series of spells that locked the door, silenced the room, and warded people away, and then as an afterthought gestured up and closed the long, green curtains.

The room instantly became shadowy and cool, and lighting quick, Obi-Wan returned, kicking Anakin’s legs as far apart as they could go with his pants around his ankles, pressing his front against his back. Anakin bent forward to lean on his forearms, arching his back and letting his head hang forward. 

The only sound was their combined breathing as Obi-Wan slid his hands down his ass to cup and squeeze the soft curve of his cheeks. His hands were so strong, it made Anakin’s cock twitch and leak, and he gasped with indignation as Obi-Wan let go and roughly pushed one hand down between his shoulder blades, pinning his chest to the table, and the other hand swatted his ass with a sharp crack. 

“Ow!” Anakin complained, and Obi-Wan spanked him again with even more force, in the same place. 

Anakin’s hips jerked as he tried to squirm, but Obi-Wan just pushed his chest down harder, making him moan and arch his back, giving Obi-Wan a better angle as he pouted. “That hurt.”

“Good. You’ve been such a brat today,” Obi-Wan said, and his voice was a low, raspy tone that Anakin had never heard before, as though he were just as lost in it as Anakin was. The empathy spell was filling Anakin with a strong feeling of finally that definitely wasn’t his alone as Obi-Wan spanked him again and again. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

“Sorry,” Anakin whined, his hips rocking as Obi-Wan’s hand made contact several times in quick succession. The slapping sound of his palm on bare skin was so loud, Anakin shivered and moaned. “I’m so sorry.”

Obi-Wan gave him a final, sharp spank, and his voice was slightly breathless. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to punish and fuck you?” 

“Yes! Sorry, yes!” Anakin agreed quickly, his heart racing. 

Obi-Wan took a step back, and Anakin breathed shallow and fast, watching as Obi-Wan deliberately unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants, pushing them off and revealing a trail of hair down his stomach that disappeared in his dark underwear. The shape of his hard cock was so obvious, Anakin licked his lips and arched his back, rocking his hips back on instinct. 

Obi-Wan gave him a knowing look, and then said something in Ancient Greek that Anakin didn’t catch, his fingers making a simple looping gesture. Anakin wiggled, a shiver running up his spine as his nerves were lit up with an entirely unfamiliar sensation both inside and around his ass, all the sensitive skin between his legs. “What was that?” 

Obi-Wan went still, poised to pull out his cock. “What do you mean?” 

“It felt like…” Anakin struggled to find a comparable sensation. The only thing he could think of was… “It felt like pop rocks?”

Obi-Wan sounded so confused. “You don’t know that spell?” 

“Should I?”

“Are you…” Obi-Wan trailed off, as though he wasn’t sure what to ask. His hands dropped to his sides, his posture shifted slightly more upright, and his voice was deeper and warmer than Anakin had ever heard before. “Are you actually a virgin?”

“Why does that matter?” Anakin scowled, indignant. “I’ve had sex before.” Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, eyes so dark and intense, but Anakin didn’t understand. Why wasn’t he touching him?  

Obi-Wan laid a cool, reassuring hand on Anakin’s burning ass, calming him slightly. “How have you never learned basic prep charms? Someone taught me in my first year here.”

“I don’t know…” Anakin looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I never needed fancy spells with Padmé.”

“You’ve only been with Padmé?” Obi-Wan’s voice was such a rich and satisfied murmur, it made Anakin’s toes curl. He moaned as Obi-Wan reached out and stroked between his legs, running a finger over his entrance, making him shiver and twitch. “Nobody here?” 

“Nobody at all, Professor. Nothing. Barely even me.”

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and a guilty, triumphant sense of satisfaction radiated in Anakin’s chest, an intoxicating echo, and Anakin felt almost high with how much Obi-Wan liked the idea of introducing him to sex, teaching him how it felt. He circled and pressed his thumb against Anakin’s entrance, teasing his rim lightly. “But surely you’ve at least masturbated..”

“Not really, not like that,” Anakin whispered, trying to push against Obi-Wan’s finger and huffing with frustration as he pulled it away. “I jerk off in the shower, obviously, but fingering myself felt, I don’t know, weird and lonely and wrong and—” 

“Lonely?” 

Anakin shrugged a shoulder, shooting Obi-Wan an annoyed look for all this stupid talking. His cock should be deep inside by now. “Yeah, the pleasure felt wrong alone. Touch me, please, Obi-Wan, I need—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut him off, his hand returning to lightly rub behind his balls. “Tell me. What do you mean lonely?”

Anakin groaned with annoyance, talking fast. “I don’t know, it should feel good like that when we’re together. That’s what it’s for. You. Us. I don’t know. It just felt wrong then, and this feels right, and I need it so much, please, it doesn’t matter, Obi-Wan, Professor, I need—”

Obi-Wan cut him off softly. “Anakin…” 

“What?” Anakin asked desperately, almost wanting to cry as Obi-Wan pulled away again. “It doesn’t matter, just fuck me, please, Obi-Wan, I—”

“Quiet,” Obi-Wan instructed him, and he snapped his mouth closed, glaring at him mutinously over his shoulder. “Good.” 

Anakin flushed at his praise, and Obi-Wan stroked his back reassuringly. “It matters to me, Anakin, darling, it matters a great deal.”

“It does?”

He watched blankly as Obi-Wan fished into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out an old-fashioned silver key, shoving it roughly into an invisible lock behind him at hip height. A wooden door appeared radiating out from the keyhole until it was solid and very real. Obi-Wan tugged it open and pulled Anakin up from the table by the back of his shirt and shoved him forward through it. 

Anakin exhaled as he landed heavily on a soft mattress and looked around with confusion. He was suddenly in an elegant and airy bedroom, full of clean lines and sleek modern art. He could see back through the door into the shadowy Brakebills classroom as Obi-Wan was pulling down his concealment spells, returning the classroom to an innocent state, finishing quickly and closing the door behind him, letting it disappear into nothingness. 

The air in the bedroom was thinner and cooler, and it smelled different, a fresh, clean scent that reminded him vividly of Obi-Wan. His ears rang slightly, it was a different kind of quiet than the classroom. It was the silence of wide, open spaces, not artificially hushed through magic and social pressure. There was a jagged range of white mountain peaks out the large window, the early evening light making them look warm and majestic. 

The bed beneath him was covered in a soft pale blue duvet, and Anakin collapsed back on the mattress, staring up at the high ceiling, overwhelmed by the bright serenity of it all. “Where are we?”

“My house.”

“Your house?” Anakin turned his face back to Obi-Wan just in time to see him pull off his shirt. He swallowed thickly as Obi-Wan’s strong, hairy chest was exposed, his muscled arms and wide shoulders, his surprisingly trim waist. He was in such good shape. 

He gave Anakin a funny look as he kicked off his shoes. “I don’t live on campus, Anakin.” 

“I know that,” Anakin said, annoyed, and began stripping too, impatiently getting rid of his shoes and shirt, tugging off his tie and throwing it toward the window. “Are those the Alps?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the mess he was making. “The Rockies. Colorado.” 

Anakin looked at the sharp peaks again, surprised. He had been sure Obi-Wan lived in Europe for some reason. Did he used to live there? Did he move? Why didn’t Anakin know everything about him? He needed to know everything.  

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s controlled voice interrupted his thoughts. He glanced over and felt his face flush as he fully realized where he was, and what was about to happen— he was naked and hard in Obi-Wan’s bed, and Obi-Wan had stripped as well, his cock flushed and thick in his hand.  

Obi-Wan made a circling gesture. “Turn over. Hands and knees.”

“Okay,” Anakin said, his nerves making his voice light and breathy as he turned over obediently, looking back over his shoulder. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed shortly as he knelt on the bed behind him, reaching for his thighs and pulling them farther apart, and pushing a hand on his back, encouraging him to collapse down to his elbows, letting his back sway out long. Anakin let him reposition him without fighting it, and Obi-Wan hummed approval. “Very good.”

Anakin’s heart was pounding, and he swallowed thickly, almost feeling drunk on the praise. His cock was throbbing painfully, and his hands made fists in the soft fabric of the blanket as he shoved his hips back and up. Obi-Wan stroked the skin he’d slapped pink, and Anakin moaned at how sensitive it was. His cock leaked even more, and he whined. “I’m making a mess.”

Obi-Wan laughed roughly, the sound that felt like a caress down Anakin’s spine. “We’re magicians, Anakin. Make a mess. I want you to.”

“Oh,” Anakin said, voice trembling and high. “G-good.”

Obi-Wan sucked saliva into his mouth and spit between Anakin’s legs. The wet, messy feeling made him moan and rock his hips back. Obi-Wan spread the spit with his fingers, gently stroking his hole, and his voice took on a deeper, raspier version of his usual teacherly tone, and Anakin smiled dumbly. Obi-Wan couldn’t resist a chance to lecture. 

“The spell I cast in the classroom was the first of a series of sex-related charms commonly called the Symposiasts’ Elementary Set. What you felt was my magic making you completely fresh and clean so that I could do this—” He broke off speaking, bending down, and licked Anakin’s hole. 

“Ahh!” Anakin cried out, surprise and pleasure mingling together and overloading his senses, the totally unfamiliar sensation lighting up his nerves and rushing through his brain. He almost came, but grit his teeth, toes curling as he wrestled the feeling back and managed to hold on.

Obi-Wan pulled back, his satisfaction radiating out. “You saved that noise for me.”

“Yes,” Anakin breathed, rocking his hips back on instinct, seeking more. “Just for you.”

Obi-Wan pressed his face between his spread cheeks, kissing and licking the sensitive skin of his hole, and his beard scratched Anakin’s sensitive skin, making him shiver and whine. It felt better than Anakin could have ever guessed. Obi-Wan’s tongue stayed on the surface, the tight ring of muscle not easily letting him push inside. Anakin knew he should relax but didn’t know how, everything was too much, too exciting. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers wrapped around his thighs and tugged them even farther apart. He pulled back, breathing hard, and Anakin twisted his neck to make eye contact, determined to see Obi-Wan, prove that this was real, that it was really him. Obi-Wan smiled at him, and his eyes were so warm with the skin crinkled kindly beside them. 

“This is the second spell. Watch me.” 

Obi-Wan lifted a hand and did a movement like the first gesture, but with at least an extra fourth finger cycle, but Anakin lost track. He shuddered and let Obi-Wan’s words wash over him as the strangest sensation filled his ass painlessly and then released, all of his muscles easily becoming relaxed and open. 

“Oh, fuck, Obi-Wan,” Anakin moaned, his cock twitching and dripping precome onto the blanket. “Please.”

Obi-Wan returned to licking him, and this time his tongue easily slipped through his rim and slid inside. Anakin whined loudly, hips jerking roughly, and Obi-Wan grabbed him by the waist to hold him still. He began eating him out, every sucking kiss and smooth drag of his tongue against his rim making him almost sob with pleasure. 

Anakin rocked back and Obi-Wan slapped his ass and grabbed the muscle tightly. He gasped, and the edge was close, so close. “I’m going to come.”

“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan said in a raspy voice, and then Anakin heard another Greek incantation, and jerked as it felt like someone tied a sparkling knot between his hips. 

“What…” Anakin whined loudly at the strange feeling, his hips rocking back, the edge so close but not coming any closer. “What was that one?”

“We’ve gone out of order,” Obi-Wan said fondly. “You’re so eager, that one was actually the fourth in the set.” 

Anakin groaned with frustration at the irrelevant information. “But what was it?”

“You’ll come when I let you, not before.”

Anakin moaned loudly in complaint and stopped chasing his release, waiting instead, almost mindless with need. “Please, Obi-Wan, please!”

“Now this is the third spell.” Obi-Wan said intently, and cast another spell in Greek and Anakin’s ass suddenly felt strangely slick and warm. 

He reached back to swipe fingers against his hole, bringing it up to his face to inspect, smelling the clear slick tentatively. It smelled vaguely floral and sweet, and he looked up to see Obi-Wan laughing fondly at his expression. 

He flushed. “What?”

“I…” Obi-Wan closed his mouth and swallowed before opening it again. “You are very dear to me, Anakin.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open but he found he had nothing to say. He was still deeply confused as Obi-Wan crawled up on the bed on top of him, grabbing a pillow and shoving it beneath Anakin’s hips. He pushed him down onto the mattress, hovering over him on his elbows, and covering him completely in one swift motion. 

Anakin exhaled hard with surprise, happily collapsing down under his weight. He felt perfectly crushed and small with Obi-Wan’s hairy chest pressed against his back and his scratchy beard and soft mouth kissing up his neck. He twisted his chin and recklessly captured Obi-Wan’s lips with his own, thrilled as Obi-Wan made a low, approving sound and kissed him back. 

He moaned against Obi-Wan’s lips, totally lost in how his soft lips brushed expertly against his own, the world spinning and finally fixing in place. It started sweet before swiftly turning messy and desperate, with Anakin opening his mouth and inviting him inside. Obi-Wan groaned as their tongues tangled, and he pulled his face back, breathing hard. “Ready?”

“Yes,” Anakin said, reaching forward to weave his fingers under Obi-Wan’s free left hand. “Please.”

Obi-Wan reached back and slid his cock back and forth on top of his hole, teasing for only a moment before carefully pressing the head inside, easily slipping his cock through Anakin’s relaxed entrance. He let out a low, pleased noise, and pushed his hips down and forward, thrusting deeper inside, clearly having reached the end of his endless patience.

Anakin gasped and shuddered, mindless with need as Obi-Wan fucked inside. He felt his eyebrows draw together and mouth hang open as he struggled to process the overwhelming sensation, but it was good, so good, and didn’t hurt at all. The prep spells did their job incredibly well, and he groaned loudly with pleasure as he took another long stroke of Obi-Wan’s thick cock without pain. So this is how it felt…

“You saved that noise for me too,” Obi-Wan repeated, savoring the words, so satisfied at giving Anakin new pleasure and knowledge. He rolled his hips back and then pushed in again, sinking even deeper, exhaling with a punched out groan. It sounded like he’d just lowered himself into a hot bath, his pleasure echoing out and so sweet. 

Anakin just nodded, beyond words, letting out a needy whine as Obi-Wan began to fuck him more quickly, short little thrusts that stroked against some perfect place inside that made his brain light up with pleasure. Precome beaded and dripped from the tip of his cock, and he wanted to cry, it felt so good. Obi-Wan’s hips finally met his own with a satisfying slap, his cock completely buried inside, balls deep. 

Anakin moaned loudly, so loudly that he blushed, but Obi-Wan just began to fuck him harder, their hips slapping together, and Anakin’s spanked ass ached every time they connected. Fuck. 

Obi-Wan leaned in to bite his ear and murmured, low and close, “Good boy.” 

“Ahh!” Anakin’s face tightened, and he knew he would have come without the spell holding him back. He whined with desperation as the edge receded, orgasm hovering maddeningly just out of reach. His eyes squeezed closed, his face and hands shoved into the blankets, his cock leaking into the mattress. 

He was unable to think about anything other than how Obi-Wan’s cock was spreading and filling his ass as he fucked him steadily and roughly. He wanted to hear Obi-Wan speak again, and slurred out a few words. “Good? Is it good?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, sounding a bit out of breath but so fond. He slowed down, drawing his hips back until he almost pulled out and then pushing forward, sinking his cock steadily back inside Anakin’s body with a low, pleased noise in his throat. He reassured Anakin’s anxiety, kissing his neck gently as his hips snapped forward harder and harder. “So good for me, take it so well.”

Anakin nodded loosely, a smile beginning to curl up the corners of his mouth as he began to believe him. “Wanna be good.” 

“No, you don’t.” Obi-Wan huffed a surprised laugh, and then swatted his ass. “You’ve been so bad lately, Anakin, all for attention. You’re a brat.” He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts, fucking him hard into the mattress. 

“Oh!” Anakin almost came again, his face probably looked pained as his overwhelming need to come slammed up against the magic holding back, his desire intense and consuming and barely contained. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Obi-Wan sounded so satisfied at his reaction. He pulled out and rolled Anakin roughly onto his back so that he could look at Anakin’s face, giving his aching cock a few teasing tugs. “You’ve been such a brat lately, so very bad. It was all for this, wasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, yes.” Anakin apologized with wide eyes, grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulders, tugging him close, anything to get his cock back inside. “Very sorry, Professor!” 

Obi-Wan smiled and cupped his face with his hand, sliding his palm back to weave his fingers between his curls and tugged sharply on his hair, shaking his head playfully as he lined up his cock. His face was flushed and indulgent, warmth in his eyes that Anakin didn’t feel like he deserved. “You should be sorry. Been driving me insane.” 

Anakin nodded quickly. “So sorry!”

Obi-Wan teased Anakin’s hole by dragging the soft head back and forth across the rim without fucking inside. His eyes raked across Anakin’s body, from his messy hair to his leaking cock, stroking it once and making him jerk and moan. “Beautiful boy. Wanted to shut you up with my cock.” 

“Really?” Anakin whined, unable to believe that Obi-Wan had been wanting him just as much as he’d wanted. It didn’t feel possible. 

“Wanted to bend you over your desk,” Obi-Wan confirmed, finally leaning forward to hover on his elbows, slipping the head of his cock inside and pushing in deep, filling Anakin up with cock all at once. He kissed him and then buried his face against his neck, sucking a dark mark on his racing pulse and fucking him harder. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin moaned, clutching at him and whining loudly as he sped up. “Yes!”

Obi-Wan’s voice strained with the effort. “Wanted you just like this.”

“I wanted it too…” Anakin whined and wrapped his arms around his back, pulling him down chest to chest, so then they were all tangled together. 

Obi-Wan groaned, biting him gently and then kissing the spot he’d bit. “I know.”

Anakin rocked his hips forward as best he could while still stuffed full of Obi-Wan, pushing his hard cock up against Obi-Wan’s stomach with a pathetic little whine. “I want to come.” 

Obi-Wan huffed a strained laugh. “You can’t yet.” 

“Why do you have to finish first? How’s that fair? It’s my first time. I should.” Anakin complained grumpily, and Obi-Wan just grinned against his skin. Anakin huffed and gave in. “Fine, but I need you to come, Obi-Wan, Professor, come in me now, please!”

Obi-Wan’s hips moved much less smoothly as Anakin begged in his ear, and he groaned at his desperation, kissing him again before resting their foreheads together. His breathing was rough and eyes full of emotion that registered in his voice too, a kind of need that Anakin recognized intimately, as he felt the same. “Anakin…”

“Feel so good,” Anakin replied thickly, unsure why he was suddenly on the brink of tears. He just couldn’t believe this was happening-Obi-Wan was everywhere, inside and above, consuming his entire world, and it was perfect. “Come, Obi-Wan, I lo… I want you to feel good.” 

Obi-Wan groaned and jerked his hips forward, beard scratchy as he kissed up Anakin’s neck to whisper in his ear, hot breath on his skin. “I always meant for you to come first, Anakin. Because I also… I also want you to feel good, darling.” 

His hand twisted through a spell and with a careful whisper, the knot holding Anakin back disappeared. Obi-Wan’s cock stroked perfectly against the sensitive spot inside that was making him see stars, and he grabbed Anakin’s cock, squeezing the tip and twisting his wrist. 

“Oh, god,” Anakin choked out, his body feeling electric at once. Pleasure bloomed in the base of his spine and in his skull and radiated throughout his limbs, and he was trembling with relief as he came streaks on Obi-Wan’s stomach and chest.

Obi-Wan groaned and thrust in a final few times, and then came too, his arms giving out as Anakin tugged him down to his chest and hugged him close. His come felt kind of gross between them, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the faint echo of Obi-Wan’s pleasure in his mind, and on how much he loved feeling wrung out and squished under Obi-Wan’s weight—like he was safe and small and Obi-Wan’s to keep. 

Obi-Wan caught his breath for a moment and then pulled his head back, seeking Anakin’s eyes. Anakin kissed him, hugging him tighter. Obi-Wan tried to say something, but Anakin ignored him, licking inside his open mouth to shut him up, just like he’d wanted to do for ages. He whined with complaint as Obi-Wan pulled out and rolled them both to the side so that they could breathe. 

Anakin watched in a drowsy, pleasured haze as Obi-Wan used a spell to clean up, and he felt a bit of regret as the come dripping out of his ass and sliding down his thighs disappeared. With a huff he pushed forward and shoved Obi-Wan onto his back, curling half on top of him, face tucked against his neck, legs tangled together. Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around his back and held him close, and they breathed together quietly. 

Anakin almost drifted off to sleep, limp and sweaty and exhausted. He loved having access to so much of Obi-Wan’s warm, bare skin, and ran his fingers through his chest hair thoughtfully. His mind was coming back online, but he was still struggling to process the reality of what just happened. He was a brat in class. He misbehaved badly, so desperate for attention. Obi-Wan spanked him and then stole him away, to Colorado, and then fucked him. That all happened. He’d been such a brat. 

Anakin worriedly looked up at Obi-Wan’s face. “I’m really sorry that I’ve been such a problem lately, Obi-Wan. I’ve just been so frustrated and bored. I won’t do it anymore, I’ll be better.”

Obi-Wan squeezed him and dropped a kiss on his forehead, encouraging him to lay back on his chest. He happily listened to the rumble of Obi-Wan’s words in his chest. “I forgive you, but you need to promise you will do better.”

He nodded seriously. “I will. Can I really skip class the rest of the week?”

Obi-Wan laughed as though he’d said something very funny. “Honestly, Anakin, you know I can’t be your teacher after this. Mace may ask for my resignation entirely.”

“What?” Anakin pulled away again more forcefully, sitting up beside Obi-Wan and looking down at him in horror. “No! You love teaching. It makes you so happy. We can keep this secret..” 

Obi-Wan shook his head regretfully. “I’m not willing to live a lie, Anakin, and teaching is not the only thing that is dear to me.” He gave Anakin a significant look, and Anakin felt his cheeks burn, his stomach full of butterflies. He opened his mouth to argue, but Obi-Wan just shrugged, his tone growing more casual. “If I’m leaving the school, I’m going to have time to write my book, you know I’ve wanted to do that.”

Anakin couldn’t imagine Brakebills without Professor Kenobi, it was a nightmare, and it wasn’t a future he was willing to accept. “I’m coming with you then, you need an apprentice.” 

“You will finish your education.” Obi-Wan said firmly, and Anakin pouted sadly. 

“But—”

“I don’t actually want an apprentice, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said carefully, his eyes flicking around his face. 

Anakin felt a swell of incipient grief, his throat thick and eyes burning. “You don’t?”

Obi-Wan reached out to him, his voice much quieter and more tentative. “A partner, on the other hand, is something that I do want. Very much.”

“Oh,” Anakin said on an exhale, a painful knot of tension releasing in his chest, warm hope blooming instead. He felt a grin split his face, and his cheeks almost hurt from how wide he beamed. He snuggled back in against Obi-Wan, sighing with relief. “Okay. Yeah. Me too.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead. “Graduate. I’ll be waiting.” 

Obi-Wan was having a very strange day. 

It had already been hot when he left that morning to get furniture for his new condo, with an unusual and frankly oppressive amount of late summer sunshine. Everything had seemed doubly onerous, traffic was a nightmare, and he was not in a phenomenal mood.

His low expectations had been subverted though, and he had somehow returned from his trip to IKEA with both a trunk full of flat pack furniture and a very pretty and earnest young man named Anakin, who was apparently deeply passionate about helping Obi-Wan with assembling said furniture.

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe that he'd managed to pick up a person quite this attractive by bitching on the phone to Quinlan in the IKEA cafe that he hated putting together furniture.

“Hi! My name’s Anakin, please, can I do it? Put together your furniture, I mean. It sounds like you’ll have a lot! I love doing it so much, and I’m totally free right now. My sister would probably rather drive herself home anyway. Why? She thinks I speed too much. Oh, why offer? I’m so bored. It’s like building LEGO sets, but better, and I love it, you hate it, so can I, please?” 

If Anakin had been marginally less earnest or less pretty, Obi-Wan probably would have declined his offer, but he was very much both of those things. It had been impossible to say no when his bright, blue eyes went so wide and imploring, his full bottom lip pouting.

The rest of the day had been… surreal. 

Anakin was apparently an engineering graduate student, with a flexible sense of social norms and a deep fondness for puzzles. He was a blunt yet charismatic force of nature, and had turned the rest of Obi-Wan's trip into a competent whirlwind of activity, saving him both effort, with his abundant strength, and time, with his insight of the labyrinth and warehouse. 

He had enthusiastically helped Obi-Wan load up Qui-Gon’s truck (“Stop, stop, you're loading the boxes wrong. It’s like Tetris, see? Ugh, just let me do it.”) They finally arrived back in the University District after a mostly pleasant drive (“You drive like such an old man, c'mon, you're killing me, actually killing me here.”) It had been weirdly comfortable and pleasant, for two people who seemed to have little in common. 

They'd unloaded the boxes at Obi-Wan’s place and split them up into the various rooms, with easy conversation flowing the entire time. Obi-Wan grabbed them both cold beers from his mostly empty fridge, hoping to catch a breath. It was uncomfortably hot inside without A/C, making both of them begin to sweat. Obi-Wan had turned on all the fans he owned, but it didn't help. 

On the plus side, Anakin looked lovely with a glimmering sheen of sweat on his skin, his curls sticking at his temples. He flashed Obi-Wan a grateful smile when he handed him the can, and his throat moved in a mesmerizing way as he gulped the beer down, finishing with a satisfied little sigh. 

Obi-Wan blinked twice before turning to survey the controlled chaos surrounding them. “What should I start with?”

“No, no,” Anakin said quickly, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “You don't have to worry about it.”

Obi-Wan studied his expression and huffed a quiet laugh. He knew it sounded far too knowing and fond to be for someone he'd met only hours ago, but he didn't care. “You just want to do it all yourself.”

Anakin sheepishly shrugged and nodded. “You'll probably just get in the way.” 

Obi-Wan was impressed at how he seemed both bashful and defiant at the same time. He sighed, looking around the floor for his laptop. “I do have emails.”

“Great!” Anakin beamed. “Let me build you the couch first, so you can have somewhere to sit.”

“I'd appreciate that,” Obi-Wan said, bemused. He watched as Anakin opened the first box and got to work with a slightly manic gleam of enthusiasm in his eyes, swiftly proceeding to assemble the couch before moving on to assemble a row of bookcases with almost alarming grace and knowhow.

Obi-Wan tried to work, he really did, but he couldn't take his eyes off Anakin—Anakin’s sweat damp curls, his shockingly broad shoulders and narrow hips, and his dexterous hands with long, slim fingers. The curve of his perfect ass in his soft shorts.

A couple hours slid by like that in a pleasant haze. Obi-Wan made repeated efforts to help build things, but was rebuffed. He ended up back on his computer, though nothing on the screen could possibly be interesting enough to prevent his eyes from slipping up over and over. Anakin's quiet competence far was too seductive.

Anakin finished the complex-seeming media center, and hefted Obi-Wan's TV up and into position with a pleased little huff. He grabbed the cord and dropped to his knees, bending forward and reaching behind the shelves, sticking his ass out, plugging the cord into the wall with some effort.

Obi-Wan looked robotically back at his laptop, breathing in and out intentionally slowly. Such a strange day. 

Anakin stood and surveyed the completed living room with satisfaction, wiping sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. He seemed blithely unaware of showing off his abs and the faint trail of hair below. He tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. “What’s next? Dining room?” 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat; he desperately wanted to suggest the bedroom, but knew it was too soon. He just nodded instead, gesturing to Anakin to lead the way, following him into the empty dining room.

He was struck by the pretty picture Anakin made at that moment. The sun was setting, and the room faced west, so the late summer sun shone orange through the blinds, and his hair looked like spun gold. He moved with such natural grace as he crouched to examine the boxes, his legs so long.

Obi-Wan sighed and decided to put together one of the chairs. “What are these ones called?”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, sounding out the name written on the box with his lovely melodic voice. “Ekedalen.”

“Pass me an Ekedalen, then.”

“Are you sure?” Anakin smirked. “I saw you trying to put together the coffee table earlier, and that’s probably the easiest possible thing.” 

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan laughed indignantly. “I can do it. It can't be that hard.” He began to read through the instructions as Anakin began confidently assembling one without them. “How can you possibly know how these infernal things go together without even looking at the instructions?”

Anakin’s cocky grin was infuriating and deeply charming. “It’s not that hard, Obi-Wan, when you know what you're doing.” 

Obi-Wan swallowed, ignoring the pooling heat low in his stomach. It felt like he'd been hooked somewhere behind his navel and some invisible force was pulling him in Anakin’s direction. He looked back at the instructions. “If you say so.” 

Anakin hummed and returned his attention to the chairs lying in parts on the carpet before him, and deftly assembled two in approximately the same amount of time that it took Obi-Wan to do just the one. 

Obi-Wan shook his head fondly. “Do you want some water?”

“Sure,” Anakin said distractedly, without looking up, intent on clipping on a padded seat. “I'm very hot. It's very hot in here.”

“Right, of course.” 

Obi-Wan filled two glasses, handing one off carefully. He sat in the chair he’d made, getting comfortable by crossing an ankle over his knee. Anakin peeked at him once and then flushed, taking a sip and returning with even more focus to the last chair. 

Obi-Wan decided it was time to be blunt. “Do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Anakin shook his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t really date.”

“You don’t? You’re not interested?”

“I guess I am.” Anakin bit his bottom lip and let it slide back out of his teeth, so plush, pink and shiny. “Either might be nice, but… it never goes well when I try, and…” He shrugged a shoulder with forced casualness and went back to work, carefully attaching the legs to the seat.

“And what?”

Anakin shrugged again, spinning a tool in his hand with the grace of long familiarity. “It's a waste of time and a distraction from what’s really interesting and important.” It sounded like he was repeating something he’d told himself many times. 

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully, reviewing the day's conversation and fixing on Anakin’s rambling description of circuits and motivators. “What’s important is… your robots?”

“You got it,” Anakin flashed him a bright grin. The smile slipped a bit, and he got up from where he’d been crouched as he finished the chair, cracking his back and looking away toward the far wall. “People mostly haven’t been interested in me in that way.”

Obi-Wan did not believe that for a single second. “Really?”

Anakin wrinkled his nose, and determinedly set to work opening the large box for the table. “I've always been too young for my grade. They usually think I'm arrogant and annoying.” 

“Some people like ‘arrogant and annoying,’ Anakin.” 

“Not in my experience, not for long, anyway,” Anakin said with a sharp, rueful laugh. He separated the table parts and hardware and frowned down at them, seeing past and through them. “I spend most of my time focusing on my degree now, not much time for… socializing.”

“So you coming here, doing this, is unusual?” 

“Very unusual.”

Anakin knelt and deftly began to assemble the table, determinedly avoiding eye contact. Obi-Wan let the silence extend, relaxing and sipping his water, not pretending to be doing anything other than just watching him work. He appreciated Anakin's problem solving, how he methodically put all the parts together, how his brow furrowed with concentration and smoothed when he'd figured out whatever step needed to happen next. 

It was a mesmerizing show, and by now Obi-Wan was deeply impressed with his mastery of the arcane art of assembling furniture. He suspected Anakin very much wanted him to be impressed, so he graciously offered him the audience he'd more than earned with all his hard work. Soon enough, there was a sleek, minimalist dining room table in his dining room.

Obi-Wan only had one question. “How sturdy is it?”

Anakin looked over and scoffed, vaguely insulted. He put a hand down on the table and wiggled it; it didn't budge. “It's pretty sturdy. Everything's screwed in nice and tight.”

“Is it?” Obi-Wan asked coyly, one side of his mouth curling up in a crooked smile. “I'm very glad to hear that it's tight.”

Anakin flushed and looked at the ground, both hands fidgeting with his screwdriver. Obi-Wan took it as a good sign and got up, stepping closer. He came to a stop just within arms reach, his hands aching to reach out and touch.

“Anakin,” he murmured, voice gentle. Anakin had gone rather still, his eyes wide like a startled deer. “I confess there was a second motive to me accepting your help and inviting you here.”

“Do…” Anakin swallowed thickly, looking around the room as if the answer were written on the walls. “Do you need any repairs done? How's your water pressure?” 

“How's my—” Obi-Wan shook his head and took a step closer, pulling the screwdriver from his loose grasp and setting it aside. “No, Anakin, I mean—” 

“Yard work?” Anakin’s breathing was growing fast and shallow, his voice coming out weak. “I don't think you have a yard.”

Obi-Wan lifted a hand to cup his cheek firmly, tipping up his head and encouraging him to make direct eye contact. “I don't have a yard.” 

Anakin’s eyes were blue and wide, pupils blown, full of need for things he couldn't say. He pushed his cheek into Obi-Wan’s hand, subconsciously nuzzling against him. “Then what is it?” He blinked up at Obi-Wan bashfully with his long, dark eyelashes. “What else can I do for you?” 

Obi-Wan felt a sparkling shock of arousal strike down his spine. He ran a thumb across Anakin’s sharp cheekbone, smiling with intent as he trembled beneath his hand. “May I kiss you?”

Anakin bit his lip and shook his head, wincing slightly. “You don’t want to do that.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m…” Anakin took a shuddery breath, stepping back and bumping into the table. “I’m bad at it.”

Obi-Wan scoffed and moved forward, his hands falling to Anakin’s waist, gently encouraging him to move backward and sit. “Who told you that?”

“A couple people…” Anakin looked so hopelessly flustered, but he allowed himself to be moved and placed on the table. 

Obi-Wan nudged his knees apart and moved to stand even closer, his hands falling to rest on Anakin’s spread thighs, his thumbs rubbing reassuring circles. “May I decide for myself?”

“Are you sure?” Anakin whispered, and he squirmed against Obi-Wan, as if he couldn't help it, as if he couldn’t possibly stay still.

“Very,” Obi-Wan nodded and brushed the tips of their noses together, rocking his hips forward, his rapidly hardening cock pressing gently against Anakin's. Anakin gasped, hands jumped to Obi-Wan’s shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, making fists and clinging on tight, his breath catching loudly as their hips came together with more force.

Obi-Wan swallowed a groan, blood rushing down to his cock so fast he almost felt dizzy. Anakin's eyes had dropped to Obi-Wan’s mouth, and Obi-Wan couldn't wait any longer. He closed the final distance, kissing him firmly and cutting off an insecure noise. He was determined to show him that he had nothing to be insecure about. 

He made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat as his lips brushed and lingered against the generous soft pressure of Anakin’s mouth. Anakin jerked his hip sharply against his in response, whimpering like it hurt. Fuck… Obi-Wan’s hold on Anakin’s thighs tightened as he kissed him harder, pulling his knees to wrap around his hips, trying to erase all distance between them.

Anakin moaned against his mouth, rocking his hips forward again, his jaw dropping and mouth falling open. Obi-Wan used the opportunity to lick between his lips, a spike of arousal making his cock throb as their tongues touched. Anakin tried to match his movements, but he'd seemingly lost the ability to kiss back with any kind of grace or finesse. Is that what he meant? He wasn't exactly bad at kissing, just helpless and sloppy, needy and overwhelmed.

He clumsily pushed his head forward and Obi-Wan’s hand jumped to slide his fingers into the short, soft curls at the nape of his neck. He made a loose fist and tugged gently on his hair to keep him still, holding his head tipped at the correct angle to explore his mouth. Anakin whined with desperation and let himself be kissed thoroughly, with tiny moans and jerking hips, gasping for air.

Obi-Wan’s heart felt oddly full, he felt so fond of him, it was absurd, but he was so good and sweet like this… so warm and soft and strong. Obi-Wan pulled his lips away and let them both breathe the air shared between them, so humid and hot, knocking their foreheads together.

“Very—” His voice was like gravel, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “That was very good, Anakin. You don't have to do anything other than that, not for me.”

“Really?” Anakin went completely limp in his arms. He was panting for air, his mouth open and so wet. His chest was as rising and falling fast, his voice breathless and weak. “You actually liked that?”

“Yes, very much,” Obi-Wan said leadingly, and he pressed his hips forward again and rubbed the obvious proof against Anakin’s own hard cock, and then kissed him again. Anakin’s mouth opened up for him, yielding so perfectly, his hips rocking forward, mindlessly seeking more and more pressure. 

Obi-Wan held him close, sucking and biting his lips, completely losing himself in the moment, the warm, soft, needy boy moving against him. He couldn't believe how quickly his own cock was leaking in his pants, how good it felt to rock against Anakin’s solid, strong body, the rigid line of his cock. Anakin’s little sounds were so arousing, it was driving him insane. Where had he even come from? How…

He broke the kiss with a gasp and began kissing down the long column of Anakin’s neck, letting him breathe, and desperate to taste the salty sheen of sweat he'd been staring at all day. It felt instantly addicting to smell his hair and bite his throat like this. His flushed, tanned skin was so sensitive and warm, and his breathing hitched with every tiny movement.

“So good,” Obi-Wan murmured against his skin, sucking gently on Anakin’s pulse. “So good for me, darling.” 

Anakin gasped and squirmed at the praise, moaning loudly as their cocks pressed and rubbed together. Obi-Wan smiled wolfishly against his collarbone, biting down, and he scratched his fingers against Anakin’s scalp. He slid the other hand up his inner thigh, dragging it closer and closer to stroke the hard line of his erection in his shorts. 

Anakin cried out as Obi-Wan finally stroked his palm gently along the length of his cock and moved up to suck on the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He rocked jerkily and squirmed as Obi-Wan squeezed on the head, whining quietly as he praised him in a rough, low voice. “Good boy, Anakin, you're so hard for me—I’ll take care of you, darling.”

“Ahh!” Anakin threw his head back, his hands scrabbling on Obi-Wan’s shoulders for purchase, crying out his alarm and desperation.  

Obi-Wan froze as a wet spot spread in the fabric under his hand. Anakin’s face was tight with pleasure and agonized concern, his whole body tensing and jerking as he came. Oh, darling. He felt a swell of surprised fondness, looking down sharply to confirm that, yes, Anakin had indeed just come in his shorts. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh god, Obi-Wan…” Anakin moaned and buried his face in his hands, clearly beyond embarrassed. “Oh my god.”

Obi-Wan laughed and grabbed his wrists, tenderly exposing his flushed, mortified face. “Darling, it’s fine. It's more than fine.”

Anakin sniffed, his bottom lip trembling and eyes welling up, his emotions overwhelmed just as much as his cock had been. Obi-Wan kissed him with reassurance, wrapping arms around him and held him close until he looked less stricken. He wanted to lick Anakin’s cock clean, but he had a feeling that would be too much for the boy who was already trembling and squirming with discomfort at the come drying in his underwear. 

“Should I…?” Anakin seemed to shake himself to attention and reached tentatively for the waistband of Obi-Wan’s pants, stroking clumsy fingertips against his cock.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly and brushed Anakin’s hand away. “Not while you’re still upset.”

“But you didn’t…”

“Later,” Obi-Wan said, teasing him gently. “Patience is allegedly a virtue.”

Anakin pouted, seeming upset with himself at being so upset. He wiped his face roughly with the backs of his hands, as if clearing tear tracks, and reached for Obi-Wan’s cock again. “I’m really fine. I can—”

“You're not, and…” Obi-Wan decided to test and see what Anakin wanted, see how far he could push, and what he'd take. He leaned close to whisper against his ear. “I don’t want you crying when I fuck you.”

“Oh,” Anakin exhaled as though punched in the gut.

“Or, I do want you crying,” Obi-Wan mused, his tone full of promise, and he stroked a finger along the underside of Anakin’s sharp jaw. “But just for the right reasons.”

“But…” Anakin cringed, seeming far too small. “You’ll be disappointed. Are you sure you don't want a blow job? I'm pretty ok at those.” 

Obi-Wan tugged his hair fondly. “Your mouth is lovely, I'm sure, but you've been bent over for me for hours now. I assure you that I won’t be disappointed.”

“But people are,” Anakin whispered like he was confessing a terrible sin. “People have been.”

Obi-Wan sighed and stepped away, stroking a hand down his beard as he composed himself. He needed to deal with this. “Who?”

“My… my ex, Ferus. He was… frustrated with me.” 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms patiently. “Why?”

Anakin winced and flushed with embarrassment, but answered anyway, staring fixedly down at his hands. What a good boy. “I’m… I get overwhelmed by it and just lay there, and my other ex too… She pegged me a couple times, but she didn’t like it very much. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t make it good for her.”

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah… a lot.”

Obi-Wan considered what he’d said, and then felt a scalding jolt of arousal. It was probably just like how Anakin had gone hopelessly wet and clumsy when overwhelmed with kisses and touches, but even better. “I’m very certain I will enjoy it, Anakin. Let me get you some pants for now. Stay right here, don't move. I’ll be right back.”

“Ok,” Anakin said shyly, toying with the waistband of his shorts in an absent way that was so unintentionally alluring Obi-Wan wanted to just flip him around and fuck between his thighs. Not yet. He ignored his cock as best he could as he walked away, letting his arousal go. He knew it would come roaring back at slightest provocation. 

He stepped into his bedroom to dig through his still mostly packed boxes to find Anakin some soft pants to wear, just hopefully not for too long. He also found the box containing the objects from his bedside table, and after a moment of indecision, pushed aside his normal bottle of lube and grabbed a much smaller, special bottle of lube, slipping it into his pocket along with a condom. Didn't hurt to be prepared. 

He stopped by the bathroom to grab a warm, damp towel for Anakin to use to clean up, and came back to the dining room. Anakin was sitting in exactly the same spot on the table, his face back in his hands. Obi-Wan set the pile of fabric down beside him, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “Here, get changed.”

Anakin sucked on his bottom lip, and then obeyed Obi-Wan’s request, hopping up to his feet and pushing down his shorts. He let them fall to the floor with a soft thump. Obi-Wan just smiled at him, one glance down at his soft cock, messy with come. Such a good boy, so sensitive, easy to please. Too easy.  

“Touching can be overwhelming to you, can't it?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin nodded sadly. “And too much stimulation makes you unable to be an… active participant during sex? Is that the issue?” 

Anakin just nodded again, awkwardly swiping the come from his thighs. He handed the towel back to Obi-Wan, accepting the pants in return and sliding them on with a cute little shimmy. 

Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile. “Sex to me isn’t like that.”

“What's it like, then?”

Obi-Wan shrugged and held out a hand, making Anakin pick up and hand over his messy shorts. Anakin trailed after him as he went to the laundry machine and tossed them in, starting a wash/dry cycle. He considered how to explain. “Have you ever played a musical instrument?”

Anakin made a face. “I played the recorder in elementary school music class. I did not play it well.” 

Obi-Wan laughed. “Well, sex to me is like… it's more like finding a beautiful instrument and wanting to make music with it.” 

Anakin’s brow furrowed skeptically. “What does that mean?”

“It means that… it pleased me very much to hear you come, Anakin, I was not upset. I liked it.”

“Oh.”

He pulled Anakin closer as if to tell him a secret, flustering him on purpose. “It also means I want to hear how you whine when I fuck inside you, all the little noises you make as you take my cock.”

“Oh…” Anakin gasped, and Obi-Wan just smiled, moving past him back out toward the living room. Anakin followed him wordlessly to the couch that he had put together earlier with such ease, and Obi-Wan tugged him down on his lap.   

Anakin shifted his weight around to get comfortable, until Obi-Wan made a warning noise low in his throat that made him freeze. He stopped wiggling and curled up against Obi-Wan’s chest, nuzzling his head between Obi-Wan’s chin and shoulder. One of his hands came up to touch the chest hair that showed in the slight v-neck of his shirt.

Obi-Wan wanted to groan as the soft curves of his ass ground relentlessly down onto his aching cock, his arousal returning in a dizzying rush with a lapful of Anakin. He stroked up and down his back and resisted the urge to thrust his hips up, and grind against him until he came. Not yet…

The last rays of sunset faded into dusk, and the room darkened naturally, until the only light came from the street lamps outside. The silence was easy and comfortable; Anakin had completely relaxed, his earlier embarrassment all washed away. He soon began to shift and wiggle again, their proximity and the increasingly charged quiet making him more and more aroused. He seemed to want more but was still too insecure to ask for it.

Obi-Wan pressed a gentle kiss to his temple and then slid his mouth down to speak against his ear, having an irresistible urge to fluster him again. “Did you know I like to fuck people in handcuffs?”

Anakin’s breath caught, his whole body going still. “What?”

Obi-Wan hugged him tighter against his chest, as if locking him in place. “In the past I've had to tie people down to get them to be still, but you'd be a good boy and stay where I put you, and take what I give you, wouldn't you?”

“Yes…” Anakin squirmed in his lap. “That’s… that's it? All you want?”

“That’s it.”

His disbelief was audible. “You really get off on that? You don't want someone to… to please you?”

Obi-Wan laughed incredulously, biting down gently on Anakin’s earlobe in punishment for being so ridiculous. “You really think fucking you wouldn't please me?”

“Well, no, I guess, but… but don't you want me to be more… involved?”

“Darling, if I have my cock in your ass and my tongue in your mouth, you're involved. It's more than enough for me.”

“Oh.” 

Obi-Wan sighed, cupping Anakin's face and studying his expression. “I promise you’ll be good for me. You can just lay still and take it—you don’t have to worry like this. It will please me if you let me please you.”

Anakin shivered and nodded, clumsily shifting around to straddle him, rocking his hips and looking down at Obi-Wan with clear desperation on his face. “Please, please, then, yes! I want that…”

“Too bad you haven’t built the bed yet,” Obi-Wan said wryly, ignoring the existence of a perfectly fine mattress on the floor of his bedroom, just a few steps away in the next room. Too far away. “I’ll just have to take you here, won’t I?”

“Yes,” Anakin gasped, rocking up against him. “Please. Whatever you want.”

Obi-Wan wrapped his hands around Anakin’s waist and pushed him to the side, crawling on top of him and then crushing him into the couch. Anakin squawked quietly in protest at being moved and squished, and Obi-Wan kissed him in apology, licking down to make their tongues touch and slide together, tasting his mouth. 

It felt just right to have him trapped beneath him, covering him completely. Anakin tugged at his shirt, and then there was an inelegant scramble for both of them to undress, shoving off and tossing aside all their clothes. They kept coming back together almost magnetically to keep kissing, unable to separate and stay separate for long.

They were finally both naked, pressed so close, chest-to-chest, legs tangled. Obi-Wan felt lost against the seeming endless expanse of Anakin's bare, hot skin. Perfect. So perfect. Anakin petted his beard and kissed down his neck sloppily before getting distracted, gazing dumbly down to where Obi-Wan's hard cock rested heavily on his stomach, lying flushed and thick beside his own.

Obi-Wan exhaled sharply with amusement at his loss of focus. “Anakin?”

“Sorry,” Anakin said, shaking his head as if to clear it, hips twitching unconsciously. “I just can't believe this. You're everything I want. How did this even happen?”

Obi-Wan just kissed him, rolling his hips and making their cocks press together in a teasing slide. He knew he needed the lube from his pocket on the ground, but didn't want to separate for long enough to get it. Anakin’s head rocked back to whine, and Obi-Wan grabbed his hair to get his attention. “If you are close to coming or it's too much, Anakin, you will tell me.” 

“Sure,” Anakin breathed. 

“And you must tell me to stop if this becomes painful and you want to stop entirely.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Right, I got it. Please, Obi-Wan, I got it!”

“Good. Now you need to relax,” Obi-Wan ordered in a husky murmur so full of desire, pressing one last kiss against his lips. “Lay there and take what I give you.”

Anakin moaned in agreement and spread his legs so Obi-Wan could settle closer, their cocks rubbing together now with bright shocks of pleasure. He kissed him roughly, and carefully rolled his hips down against Anakin and his pretty, flushed cock, frotting down against him until he heard a strangled, “Too… too good!”

“Good boy,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back and breathing hard, almost in awe—he was so sensitive. “So good for me.”

Anakin's face tightened as if in pain at the praise and he then shot Obi-Wan a dark look. “Close.”

Obi-Wan grinned, and he withdrew so that he could abruptly flip Anakin over to his stomach beneath him. His eyes slid greedily down the long, ridged line of his spine to the perfect, pale curves of his ass. He spread Anakin’s thighs further apart and knelt behind him, one hand tugged up on Anakin’s hips, the other pressed down between his shoulder blades. “Put your face down, hips up for me, that's a good boy.”

Anakin moaned and immediately rose to his knees, burying his face in the cushions. All the tension left his body once he was held down in the position Obi-Wan chose, and Obi-Wan groaned at his beautiful submissive posture—the strong, elegant lines of him, his back curved and hips tipping back, unconsciously offering up his hole for Obi-Wan to touch.  

Obi-Wan blindly fished on the ground for his shorts and grabbed the lube, popping the top and dispensing a generous amount on his fingers. “Did you know that this lube is special, Anakin?”

“Is… is it?”

Obi-Wan slid two slick fingers between Anakin’s legs, spreading him until he could see the pink skin of his hole, groaning at how small and tight it looked, just begging to be opened up. “It's something called 'desensitizing anal lubricant,’ and it's for people like you.”

“Like me?” Anakin asked, breathy and shy. 

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, and stroked Anakin’s rim, spreading the lube in a circle, but not pressing inside. Not yet. Anakin cried out with surprise at the feeling, and Obi-Wan smiled. “Many people find this overstimulating, you know. You're not the only one. I also find it a bit much sometimes."

“Oh,” Anakin said, looking doe-eyed back over his shoulder. “I didn’t… I'm… I’m glad.” He quickly turned back and buried his face back into the cushion, and he was so cute. Obi-Wan pushed down harder between his shoulder blades to hold him steady and carefully slid a finger inside the tight muscle.

Anakin cried out and took it beautifully, better than Obi-Wan could have hoped. He began slowly opening him up, liberally slicking him until the sound of his fingers fucking in and out of his pretty little hole became sloppy and loud, obscene and impossibly arousing.

Obi-Wan’s cock throbbed with his pounding heart, he felt so desperate to get inside, he needed to.

“Am I ready?” Anakin asked, sounding almost drunk. “M’close, you know.”

Obi-Wan wanted suddenly more than anything to see his face, so he reached forward and tugged on his curls to turn his head. He checked his expression, and felt his cock leak precome at how much Anakin already looked wrecked and fucked dumb. His eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, mouth hung open as he panted, lips wet with spit, probably drooling on the couch. Obi-Wan didn't care. 

Obi-Wan leaned forward to kiss him again, licking greedily between his lips and humming with satisfaction at the taste. He spread his fingers for a final test of readiness, and then carefully curled them, speaking low against Anakin's open mouth. “Almost there, darling, being so good for me.”

“S’close!” Anakin whined, head curling forward with an agonized, ecstatic expression that quickly morphed into a scowl. “Don't do that!”

“What,” Obi-Wan laughed, pulling back and wiping off his hand on his shirt. “Don’t praise you?”

Anakin grumbled into the cushion and Obi-Wan couldn't make out any words except ‘accent’ and ‘prostate.’ He grinned, rolling on a condom and adding more lube, fucking his fist twice before squeezing the base of his cock. He guided the tip towards Anakin's slick hole, his heart pounding with anticipation. “Now, just relax and bear down. Just take it.”

Anakin’s curls bounced as he nodded, his hands scrabbling to grab and hold on tight to the couch armrest. Obi-Wan carefully pressed the head of his cock against Anakin’s stretched, slick rim, teasing it in and out ever so slightly, and making him whimper.

He was able to cling to sanity for one final moment to appreciate how beautiful and unlikely this all was, before instinct took over and he thrust his cock inside. 

“Ah!” Anakin cried out at the sensation, hips jerking and spine straightening out. 

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and went still, pushing down hard on Anakin’s back, giving him time to adjust. It took all his willpower, every single ounce of his control, to keep from just giving in and pounding into him, fucking him roughly into the couch and making him sob. He was almost sobbing already. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan soothed. “You’re taking me so well, Anakin.”

Anakin relaxed by degrees, his whimpers and overstimulation fading as he got used to the sensation, and eventually Obi-Wan was able to press his cock in deeper, gently opening him up more and more. Anakin moaned with every thrust of his cock, his hips rocking randomly, sometimes twitching back to meet his thrusts without much rhythm. “C-close.” 

Obi-Wan sighed fondly and stilled his hips, leaning forward to kiss Anakin's cheek, pressing his chest against his back, trying to ground him. “Remember what I said, Anakin.” 

“What?” Anakin whined, and twitched. “When?”

Obi-Wan sucked hard beneath the hinge of his jaw, and sat back up on his heels, his hands grabbing and squeezing Anakin’s hips, locking them in place, his cock buried deep inside. “Be still for me now. You take what I give you.”

“Oh,” Anakin gasped for air and went limp, whining mindlessly as Obi-Wan rolled his hips, the hard length sliding in and out so smoothly. “Oh, yes…”

Obi-Wan groaned at how pliant and perfect Anakin was for him now, how tight and hot, slick and open. His hips sped up, trying to stay mindful of his sensitivity but slowly losing himself to fucking him just how he liked. “So perfect for me, taking me like this, love how you whine for me, darling.”

Anakin just moaned and panted, twisting his head back and seeking eye contact. Obi-Wan tugged on his curls again, making him whimper and beg for reassurance. “You… you like it?”

“You’re so good.” Obi-Wan rumbled, his hips speeding up, the sound of his cock fucking into Anakin and hips slapping together filling the room. “So good for me.”

“Please,” Anakin whined. “Please, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan groaned at his begging, getting close himself. His voice was rough and low, and he was lost in the heat and slide of him. “I'm going to make myself come now, use your pretty little hole like it's meant to be used, you take it so well, such a good boy for me.” 

Anakin moaned loudly, hips jerking. “M'close!” 

“Good,” Obi-Wan thrust deliberately, stroking against the sensitive nerves that made Anakin squirm, with short, sharp, pointed thrusts, driving him to the edge. “Come, Anakin. I want to hear you come.” 

“Ahh!” Anakin’s whole body convulsed as he came, his face tight and a low moan ripped from his chest. The sound was impossibly erotic, his face impossibly pretty, the clenching pressure of his ass, the heat of him, it was too much, too good. 

Obi-Wan felt his balls getting tight, cock painfully hard, his hips speeding up to fuck Anakin through his orgasm, desperate to finish inside the perfect grip of his body. He lost rhythm as he got closer, his thrusts rougher, slower and deeper as Anakin took it so perfectly, drooling and whining. “Good fucking boy.”

“Please,” Anakin said, voice drunk and loose. “Come in me, I'm yours, your… yours.”

“Fuck, Anakin…” Obi-Wan rasped, his head curling forward as his hips slammed in one last time. He curled forward, hands gripping tight, the pleasure of it releasing in a tidal wave, and he was lost in it, lost in coming deep inside Anakin’s body. Anakin. 

He collapsed forward and crushed Anakin to the couch, sparing a single moment of regret for dirtying it so profoundly on the first day, before rejecting the thought as unimportant. Both of them were limp with exhaustion and trembling with aftershocks. Obi-Wan's cock was getting uncomfortable in his condom, but he also didn't want to move. He never wanted to move again. 

Anakin's phone began to buzz loudly against some hard surface in the next room, and he groaned with annoyance, squirming under Obi-Wan’s dead weight, voice slightly pressed. “I forgot to text Ahsoka, didn't I?”

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan shook his head, thinking of the feisty young woman who had googled him to his face before reluctantly releasing her brother into his custody. Somehow that was only earlier that day—it felt like a century ago (“Your ratemyprofessor score seems fake, but ok. You're probably not an ax murderer…”) “I'm sure she's very worried. It's getting late.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Obi-Wan huffed a slightly pained laugh and slid his hips back, reluctantly leaving Anakin’s tight heat. He sat up, rubbing a twinge in his neck. He was getting too old for this. “Go answer her.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Anakin grumbled, not moving at all until Obi-Wan smacked him on the ass playfully. He wrinkled his nose with annoyance, sliding off the couch and rising unsteadily to his feet. “Ok, ok..” 

“Good boy.” Obi-Wan watched with pride as Anakin walked off with a faint limp to find his phone, and then shook his head, collapsing on the couch with a tired, incredulous sigh. What a strange day.   

Anakin hated Thursdays. He hated every day from Monday to Friday, but it happened to be Thursday, so he despised it the most. Especially 4:30pm on Thursdays. He glared at the clock, willing it to move, but it seemed stuck. His growing headache throbbed sharply and he just wanted to be done.

He hated his job. He was grateful to have it, don't get him wrong, but after several months it was painfully clear that he was just not built to be anyone’s secretary. Especially not Mr. Kenobi’s, the most annoyingly demanding and perfectionistic lawyer in the entire world.

Obi-Wan may have been friends with Anakin’s ex-wife, and had kindly agreed when she’d called in a favor to get Anakin this stupid job, but he was still the worst. The whole job as a result was awful, and Anakin knew he was bad at it.

Answering the phone was annoying, making appointments was boring, building files was stupid. He kept making dumb clerical errors, and kept getting in trouble like he was back at school. Obi-Wan noticed everything and let nothing go, always demanding perfection. 

It wasn’t like Anakin was ever intentionally sloppy, but he simply didn't understand how anyone could actually pay attention to such mind numbing and repetitive tasks. He would much rather be taking apart an engine, or doing literally anything else interesting. It was so deeply unfair that nobody else on the planet seemed to be willing to hire a felon. 

The phone rang shrilly and he shoved the file he was pretending to make to the side with annoyance at the interruption. He read the caller ID and scowled. He didn't know what Obi-Wan needed and didn't care. He'd already given him his stupid tea and had even brewed it right. He’d given him his stupid, corrected files and even updated them right this time.

What else could that micromanaging asshole possibly want?

He sullenly picked up the phone, and cradled it between his shoulder and ear. Obi-Wan spoke as soon as the call connected with a cool, clipped instruction. “Anakin, come into my office.”

Anakin grimaced, wincing as the expression tugged on his split lip. He replied tersely. “Yes, sir.” 

He dropped the phone back into its holder with a resentful thunk. He stood and glared around the empty waiting room, all the stupid zen art and fussy orchids. Listening to the tinkling meditation fountain in the corner for hours was like water torture. He wanted to pour the water out all over Obi-Wan’s stupid files, and then smash the ceramic fountain against the wall. 

He did a breathing exercise he’d been taught in his mandatory court-ordered anger management class as he went down the hall to Obi-Wan’s office. There were only thirty more minutes in the work day, so even if Obi-Wan wanted to lecture him for all his failures, he wouldn’t have to sit through it for long. 

But then he'd have to leave, and go… not home. Which was somehow worse than work. He inhaled, held it for a steady count, and exhaled hard, squeezing his fists and inviting his split knuckles to ache. 

He poked his head into the large corner office. Obi-Wan was looking down at a file, intently writing something. His jacket was off, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were unfastened, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows. It was the most casual and disheveled that Anakin had ever seen him, and he didn’t know what to make of it. 

Obi-Wan didn’t look up from his work, but waved distractedly toward the chair across from him, where his clients usually sat. “Close the door and sit down.” 

Anakin pressed his lips together and swallowed a surge of emotion, a hot leaping sensation in his gut that he’d been feeling more and more. He closed the door behind him a little bit too hard, and Obi-Wan shot him a piercing look. His eyes followed Anakin’s progress across the room and flicked up and down, relentlessly fixing on everything Anakin didn’t want him to see. 

Anakin sat heavily in the client chair and stared sullenly back. Obi-Wan set down his pen and sat back in his chair, lifting a judgemental eyebrow. “You have a black eye.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Obi-Wan asked sharply. 

Something about the way he always went still at Anakin’s disrespect made the hair on his arms lift, a kind of primal prey instinct tripped with warning. He swallowed thickly and broke eye contact, looking to the side, back toward the door, and craving escape. Obi-Wan definitely did not appreciate that kind of back-talk, anything that crossed from banter to actual disrespect, but Anakin didn’t know how to stop doing it. 

He didn’t want to stop. It was the only thing he could do sometimes. 

“Show me your hands,” Obi-Wan ordered. 

Anakin reluctantly lifted his hands, only flipping them over to show the injured back of his knuckles when Obi-Wan spun an impatient finger. Obi-Wan’s expression grew more grim, and Anakin dropped his hands back into his lap, clenching and releasing them. The sharp bite of pain as he reopened the broken skin was soothing and cleared his head. 

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. “Remind me of your criminal record.” 

Anakin scowled, unwilling to go through his long history with the cops back in Tatooine. “Which part?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed impatiently. “Tried as an adult.”

“You already know what it is,” Anakin snapped. He crossed his arms and slumped back in his chair, letting his posture collapse just to annoy him. 

The hint of warning in Obi-Wan’s voice only intensified. “Remind me.”

“Assault, sir.” 

Obi-Wan’s pale blue eyes were glittering, his handsome face otherwise could have been carved from marble. “What degree?”

Anakin pushed his tongue against his split lip, seeking the familiar, metallic taste of blood. Clovis had deserved it for harassing his wife, ex-wife, and he didn't regret it for a single second. He still thought about the way his stupid jaw and eye socket had cracked against his fist with great fondness. “Second degree.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, his tone pointed. “And how many years of your sentence did you serve?”

“Five.”

“And you are out, why?”

“Good behavior,” Anakin snarled, his arms tense across his chest. He hated talking about his time in prison more than anything. His heartbeat was beginning to pound in his ears, his stomach twisting.

“I see. You are on probation?”

“Respectfully, sir,” Anakin said with a full measure of disrespect. “What is the point of this?”

“Answer my question,” Obi-Wan said without patience.

“Yes,” Anakin sneered. “I am on probation.” 

“And what happens when you violate your probation?”

Anakin shrugged with falsely casual disregard. “I go back to prison.” 

Obi-Wan was apparently not finished playing dumb. “For how long?”

“I don't know, Obi-Wan, awhile.” 

“Excuse me?”

Anakin’s nostrils flared, his jaw tight. “Awhile. Sir.” 

Obi-Wan was quiet and thoughtful, staring at him and stroking his beard. Anakin could hear the faint tinkling of his stupid fountain and a clock ticking softly, and he clenched his fists. Eventually Obi-Wan shook his head, voice full of disappointment and rebuke, and it felt like a kick to the stomach. 

“Your attitude leaves much to be desired, Anakin.”

“Sorry.”

“I don't think you are.”

Anakin was silent, not sure what he was supposed to say or do. This wasn't therapy, he wasn't required to comply or explain himself. He bounced his leg and waited to leave. 

“How did you get a black eye, Anakin?”

Anakin shrugged and lied. “Accident at the boxing gym.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You weren't out getting in bar fights again? Tempting fate with another assault charge?”

“No.”

“Really? Anakin, listen. I know I'm your employer and we have a certain kind of relationship, but you really should feel free to discuss your problems with me.”

Anakin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Okay, sir.”

Obi-Wan sighed, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. “What's really going on with all the bloody knuckles?” Anakin just shrugged, and Obi-Wan was clearly frustrated with him. “Why do you hurt yourself?”

“Why is it any of your business?”

“You're my secretary,” Obi-Wan said slowly, as if he were stupid. “You are a visual representation of my business. This is a reputable office. I cannot have a brawler checking in appointments.” 

Anakin pressed his lips together, staring down at Obi-Wan’s fancy pen. Obi-Wan sighed again. “I don't want to fire you, Anakin. I realize that would cause you many problems. But you need to be honest with me. Why do you hurt yourself?”

“I don't know.”

“I think you do.” 

Obi-Wan studied him, and his voice came out unexpectedly silky and low. It was like he had cracked open Anakin’s ribs and was reading what was written inside. “Permit me a guess. Sometimes the pain inside you has to come to the surface, and when you finally see evidence of that pain inside, it's a relief, isn't it?”

Anakin said nothing and Obi-Wan nodded, getting up smoothly and walking around the desk into Anakin’s personal space. He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms, looking down his nose at him. “When you watch the wound heal, it's comforting, isn't it? You got what you deserved.”

Anakin felt like a bug under Obi-Wan’s microscope. “I… that's a way to put it.”

“I'm going to tell you something. Are you ready to listen?”

“Yes.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was firm and authoritative, telling Anakin a new fact about reality, not inviting him into any kind of discussion. “You will never, ever, hurt yourself again. You will not seek out fights. Do you understand? Have I made that perfectly clear? You're finished with that now. It's in the past.”

Anakin scowled. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

Anakin shook his head, moving to get up and then freezing under Obi-Wan’s stern look. He was trembling, cornered and furious, his volume spiking. “No! I won’t. I need to.” 

“You need to?” Obi-Wan repeated back, as though he was proving his point. 

Anakin growled. “You don’t understand. I can’t…”

“You can’t?”

“Stop repeating me!” Anakin snapped, finally pushing his chair back and standing up. 

Obi-Wan watched him impassively, his chin lifting as he followed his progress up to his full height. “Calm down, Anakin.”

“No!” Anakin got in his face, but Obi-Wan didn't flinch. “Fuck you! I’m leaving!” 

“Sit back down, or you’re fired.” 

Anakin went still, seriously considering it for a moment, but then he vividly pictured Padmé’s disappointed face, and the stoic patience of Beru Lars asking him to chip in for rent if he was going to stay longer. He wanted so badly to move out, get free, but he couldn't. He was stuck, trapped, and hopeless; this job was all he had. 

He mechanically sat back down, every single muscle in his body tensed and ready to bolt. His face was burning, the tips of his ears even felt hot. He stared fixedly at Obi-Wan’s stomach and the silver fastening of his brown leather belt, his jaw creaking with how tight it was clenched. 

“Good boy,” Obi-Wan said, only faintly patronizing, and Anakin felt his cock twitch with interest despite himself. He loved and loathed Obi-Wan’s patronizing tone in equal measure. He shivered as Obi-Wan’s voice then cracked like a whip. “Look at me.” 

Anakin met his eyes and swallowed. Their eye contact felt oddly heavy in a new way, and he didn't know exactly why. Obi-Wan clearly was making some kind of decision, and his expression was growing almost predatory with a kind of focused attention that flayed Anakin alive.

Obi-Wan nodded once and stepped to the side, making a hand gesture inviting Anakin forward. “Get up. I want you to bend over the desk.”

“What?” Anakin couldn't have heard him right, but he stood up anyway. “I don't understand.”

“There's nothing to understand. Put your elbows on the desk, bend over, and look down at your hands.” 

There was normally an irresistible quality in Obi-Wan’s voice as he gave instructions, but this new tone was almost overwhelmingly compelling. There was no patience, no sympathy, only demand, and no room for question. “Now, Anakin.”

Anakin obeyed without thinking about it, feeling almost like he'd stepped sideways into a dream where nothing was real. He was pretty sure he’d had this dream before. He carefully laid his elbows and palms down on the desk, bending forward. He made a low noise of protest as Obi-Wan pushed a hand down hard on the middle of his spine, sending his hips back. 

Obi-Wan left his hand resting heavily on his back, and that steady pressure was the only thing that Anakin could feel, growing to occupy his entire universe. He listened as though underwater as Obi-Wan’s spoke firmly. “I will give you what you need, but you are forbidden from seeking it elsewhere. Do you understand?” 

Anakin swallowed, his mouth feeling wet and clumsy. “What do I need?”

“Discipline, Anakin.” 

Anakin looked desperately back over his shoulder, up through his lashes toward Obi-Wan’s stern face. “What do you—” 

Obi-Wan’s expression was tight and dark with concentration as his hand connected with Anakin’s ass with a painful swat. The sharp shock of it made Anakin flinch, the pain almost masked by the sheer surprise and disbelief. “What?” 

Obi-Wan just spanked him again in the same place, even harder. 

“Ouch,” Anakin whined, cringing away. “What are you doing?” 

Obi-Wan just grabbed his hip and pulled him back to how he was before, bringing his hand down again with a loud thwack. “Be still.”

“What…” Anakin whined, unable to process what was even happening, the pain beginning to build into a persistent dull ache as Obi-Wan struck the same few places over and over. His neck ached from looking back over his shoulder, but Obi-Wan’s face was tight and his eyes were so dark. “What are you…”

“Head down,” Obi-Wan said roughly. “You require punishment, and I will give it to you. I know what you need.” 

Anakin’s cock throbbed, and he dropped his forehead to the desk, biting his split lip and licking up the coppery blood. He couldn't even guess how much Obi-Wan’s hand was hurting, with the amount of pain that he was delivering to his burning ass. He squirmed as the hits just didn't stop, feeling his eyes prick with tears, his breathing so unsteady. 

“Stop moving.” Obi-Wan snapped, his voice rough in a way that sent molten heat sliding down Anakin's spine and pooling in his gut. “You deserve this.”

Anakin whimpered and nodded loosely. His brain felt like it was jammed, he couldn't think. Obi-Wan was hurting him so much, every swat hurt was a fresh burst of agony, but Anakin felt safe. It felt so good somehow, that awful itch inside was going quiet, his head filling with static. He wanted Obi-Wan to stop, and he would sob if he did. He was about to cry anyway, his eyes were hot and nose blocked, but he resisted the urge to weep. 

Obi-Wan’s breathing was loud, and Anakin tried to match it to stay calm. The pain was mutating into something warm, tingling, and honey-thick, spreading up his spine and down his limbs, his cock getting harder and harder with every strike. It was pathetic how turned on he was by this rough treatment, the fact that he liked this, it was so humiliating. 

Two hard spanks in a row in the same spot made him cry out quietly in complaint, his hips twisting and cock leaking. “Please!”

Obi-Wan paused, voice almost unrecognizable. “Please what? Please stop? You need this.”

“I…” Anakin whined as Obi-Wan rubbed his burning ass. “I’m…”

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, smacking him again. “What are you?”

“Sorry,” Anakin said, finally breaking, hot tears dripping down his cheeks as he sobbed. He looked desperately back, needing to see Obi-Wan’s face like a lifeline. “I'm sorry.”

Obi-Wan was breathing hard, eyes burning. “Why?”

“I'm trying!” Anakin choked out, sobbing loudly and gasping for air. He dropped his forehead back between his hands and wept freely, his shoulders shaking. His voice was thick. “I'm trying so hard, I'm s-sorry.”

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully. Anakin twitched as his hand slid around his waist and stroked once down along the line of his cock, testing how hard he was. Anakin felt a spike of humiliation, desperately embarrassed at getting hard from this. He whimpered and rocked into his hand, mindlessly seeking the pressure. “So sorry…”

“Take yourself out of your pants,” Obi-Wan ordered, his voice so perfectly rough and low, Anakin felt his cock throb and leak. He complied thoughtlessly, leaving his forehead on the desk as his hands scrambled for his button and fly, shoving down his briefs to reach inside. 

“Wrap your hand around your cock. Are you holding it?”

Anakin couldn’t breathe, it was such a relief. “Yes, sir.” 

“Make yourself come. Quickly.”

Anakin obeyed gratefully, his wrist moving fast, hand slipping on the amount of wet precome leaking from the head. It felt so good, he was already so close. Obi-Wan stepped closer, and ground the front of his slacks into the burning skin of Anakin’s ass, and Anakin felt that he was hard. He whimpered, his balls growing tight, cock painfully hard. 

“Are you close?” Obi-Wan murmured. 

Anakin shivered. “Yes.” 

“Come in your hand. Do not let any hit my desk or floor. Now.” 

Anakin groaned as he was swallowed by a powerful orgasm, a rushing release of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. He caught all his come as best he could in his fingers and cupped palm, but some dripped and fell to the floor. He felt utterly spent, almost drooling against Obi-Wan’s desk. He swallowed thickly and shuddered, his head filled with a buzzing, warm nothing. It was finally quiet inside.

“Lick it up.” 

He lazily rolled his head to the side to look back. “What?” 

Obi-Wan’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes so dark. He spanked Anakin one more time gently as punishment for not listening. “Lick it. Clean yourself up.”

Anakin clumsily brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on his fingers, wrinkling his nose as he tasted his own come. He licked his palm and held eye contact, feeling strangely powerful at the amount of arousal on Obi-Wan’s face as he did. 

“And the floor.” 

Anakin mindlessly slid back from where he was bent over, down to his knees. He looked around and leaned forward, licking up the few drops that fell to the carpet. It was rough and flavorless against his tongue, and he felt on some level like he should be humiliated by it, but all he felt was safe. He didn't have to think, just act. 

Obi-Wan made a low noise of approval as he obeyed. “Good boy. Come here.” 

Anakin shuffled around on his knees, tipping his head back and making eye contact, his mouth opened as he panted. His softening, messy cock was out, the air was cool against it, but he didn't care. 

“Show me your tongue. Good.”

Obi-Wan opened his slacks, shoving down the waistband of his underwear to pull his heavy cock and balls out. He was so big and hard, his cock flushed and dark, the vein standing out. He slid his fingers into Anakin’s hair and then made a fist, pulling his head toward his cock. “Give me your mouth.” 

Anakin enthusiastically thrust his head forward, taking as much of Obi-Wan’s cock into his mouth as he could, shoving it down his throat and feeling a deep swell of relief. His split lip hurt, but it didn’t matter as Obi-Wan held him by the hair and began to gently fuck into his mouth. 

Anakin’s eyes rolled back and he let himself go, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation and letting Obi-Wan have control. Obi-Wan groaned and pulled out to let him breathe, a string of spit and precome connecting the tip of his cock to Anakin’s wet lips. “You look so pretty like this, so sweet for me, my sweet boy.” 

Anakin made a desperate noise of approval, and looked greedily at Obi-Wan’s cock, wanting it back. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and fed his cock back into his open mouth, rolling his hips forward and thrusting it in deep. Anakin choked, his hands coming up to hold Obi-Wan’s thighs.

Obi-Wan’s hand tightened on his hair and Anakin relaxed, letting him hold him up as he took it as best he could. Obi-Wan sped up, so gentle and careful and relentless as he rocked the head of his cock down Anakin’s throat, pulling back periodically to let him gasp for air.

The sound was wet and sloppy, and Anakin's hands tightened on the soft fabric of Obi-Wan’s pants, desperately anchoring himself. It didn’t take much longer until Obi-Wan grunted and came down his throat, pulling back to finish on his lips. 

“Swallow.” 

Anakin met his eyes and swallowed, licking his lips. His knees ached, he couldn't breathe, he felt almost divine. 

Obi-Wan finally smiled at him, his eyes warm and voice gentle. “Good boy.” 

Anakin whined, eyes fluttering closed with pride and relief, and Obi-Wan finally let go of his hair. Anakin’s head tipped forward to rest against Obi-Wan’s hip, and he inhaled the musky scent of Obi-Wan, savoring the bitter taste of both of their come.

Obi-Wan stroked and petted his head gently. “Do you feel better?” 

Anakin nodded, sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and the tears from his cheeks. He was still reeling, shaken with disbelief that this had even happened. It was surreal and perfect, the storm inside gone still. His head was buzzing and empty just like it was after the best fights. “Thank… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, darling. Get up.”

Anakin stood, his knees protesting and making him slightly unsteady. Obi-Wan placed a hand on his lower back, guiding him around the desk to his comfortable leather chair and pulling him down to sit on his lap. Anakin curled against him, burying his face against his neck. Obi-Wan held him close, his voice gentle. “Will you tell me why you were so particularly surly today?”

“Another housing application denied,” Anakin whispered reluctantly. “Because of the felony. I’m couch surfing and need to move on, I’ve been with Owen and Beru for too long. They won’t say it, but I know. I don’t know where to go though. I can’t afford a hotel for long. I don’t want to live in my car.” 

“You won’t.” Obi-Wan sounded absolutely certain. “You’re fired.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped out, and he pulled his face back with horror. “What?”

“Do you enjoy this job, Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was so gentle, his eyes so understanding. 

“Well, no, but—”

“You’re coming home with me. You can stay with me while you look for a new job. One that you will enjoy. I’ll take care of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Anakin shuddered and nuzzled his face back into Obi-Wan’s neck, feeling so safe and small. “Thank you.” 

Obi-Wan kissed his temple, his beard scratching his skin and sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Anakin relaxed against him, the quiet murmur of traffic outside and their combined breathing lulling him into an immeasurable sense of peace. For the first time in a very long time, he felt that everything was going to be okay. 

“He's got such gentle hands and his eyes are so blue green gray, his lecturing tone is so hot, his pleased praising teasing one is even hotter, the way he says my name drives me insane. His fingers are so thick, I bet his cock—”

Anakin growled and slammed his laptop shut, staring blankly at the wall behind it. He was supposed to be working on his thesis, but instead he found himself absently composing more fervent journal entries about Obi-Wan that he would never share with anyone. Not ever. 

It had been weeks of this kind of distraction, his imagination driving him insane. 

Obi-Wan was just an old family friend. That's all. They weren't even super close these days. He’d been a favorite grad student of Anakin's step-dad, and was now almost tenured at the university, where Anakin just saw him sometimes in the library. He had known him since he was ten, when he’d started coming to Sunday dinners, but it’s not like he saw him weekly anymore. 

Did he miss Obi-Wan casually tutoring him in whatever his history class was studying that week? Yes, for all that he hated history, Anakin had depended on Obi-Wan to make things make sense. He was a natural teacher and storyteller who loved explaining things.  

Anakin knew he was wizard with numbers, and coding made intuitive sense to him, he could build all kinds of robots. He wasn't stupid. He just had never cared enough about boring treaties and conferences and kings. The only way he bothered to learn was listening to Obi-Wan explain things in a way that stuck. 

Obi-Wan had just always been magnetic. He'd always been handsome, even to teenage Anakin, but never available in any way, so he simply didn't think about him in that way. He’d been interested in people his own age and looked up to Obi-Wan like an older brother. His stupidly perfect accent and stupidly broad shoulders didn't matter. 

The recent disruption was all Padmé’s fault. She had absolutely ruined his life by mentioning off-hand that Obi-Wan was into BDSM. It was maddening. They were just friends of friends, coworkers even, how she even knew that… he didn't want to know. 

It had been a deeply mortifying interaction with her overall. He’d accidentally left a browser window open to some fucked up porn when she asked to check something on his laptop. The audio had turned on and he wanted to melt into the floor. She’d just looked amused. 

They were long since broken up, each independently realizing that they were bi with a preference that skewed toward their same gender, but they’d stayed roommates. Anakin didn’t want to leave Luke and Leia, the best cats in the world, and he couldn't afford rent in the stupid city alone. 

Padmé also didn't trust him to eat or sleep without supervision; there were many reasons they still lived together. She'd been insufferably calm about the whole hardcore gay BDSM porn thing. “It's not weird, Ani. There was nothing shocking to me. Lots of people are into stuff like that. It's normal. Sabé and I text about shibari all the time. Obi-Wan’s a dom. It's normal.”

Obi-Wan's a dom…

They were life ruining words, didn't she understand what it would do to him? 

His mind had been filled with useless fantasies for weeks now. Any time his life felt out of control and a mess and he couldn't handle it? He imagined curling up in Obi-Wan’s arms. He already knew how he smelled, like beard oil and tea, and could imagine how soft his usual beige sweater would be against his cheek. 

It was completely out of hand. He got hard imagining Obi-Wan lecturing him about staying up late. He'd started jerking off in the shower to imaginary lectures, that's how bad it had gotten. It was pathetic, but it helped him get a taste of the discipline he knew he badly needed. 

But what if Obi-Wan cared what he did? How would that feel?

It was all he wanted, but he knew Obi-Wan would never think of him like that. He had no idea how to ask either, how to get someone older and responsible like that to take care of him. He could easily imagine the pathetic wheedling embarrassed tone if he tried. Surely it wasn’t attractive to just ask for it. But how else would it happen? 

Don’t ask, don’t get.  

He was determined to resolve this dumb fixation on Obi-Wan, get rejected or not, either way, he needed to just get it over with. He was sure that Obi-Wan would be at Bail’s New Year’s party, and so he agreed suspiciously easily when Padmé told him they were going. She gave him a knowing look, and helped him pick out a shirt. She was the best ex in the world. 

They caught the train together to the Organa’s, the city bustling with New Years events. The party was just as busy inside, but all Anakin could see was Obi-Wan. He was there. He was in the thick of people, standing with perfect posture, or sitting in the sluttiest ways a man can possibly sit. 

Don’t ask, don’t get.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem aware that Anakin was there, and Anakin wasn’t sure how to make him aware. He was buzzing and fretting, playing with Breha’s dogs and checking his phone instead of socializing. He just couldn't. Obi-Wan was right there. He needed to ask him. He could…

Obi-Wan’s eyes met his across the room, catching him looking, registering with a flash of recognition. Anakin’s breath stuttered, and he looked away immediately, but the damage was done. Padmé always said he had a tendency to stare creepily, and he always forgot. 

It was luckily crowded enough that he could slip away into the kitchen, appreciating the relative quiet, and finding a platter of cookies and helping himself. He eyed the mulled wine wistfully, weighing his self-control against his desire for oblivion. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, making him startle and turn to face the door, a powdered cookie in his mouth. Obi-Wan looked amused. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hi,” Anakin said through the cookie, chewing and swallowing quickly. 

Obi-Wan joined him by the platter of cookies, selecting a gingerbread man for himself. His eyes dropped to Anakin’s lips, and Anakin wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, feeling the powered sugar rub off. He was such a mess.  

Obi-Wan smiled warmly. “How is Qui-Gon?” 

“Fine,” Anakin shrugged, not particularly wanting to think about his father. “How was… how was your Christmas?”

Obi-Wan tipped his head to the side, a wry twist to his smile. “Eminently tolerable.” 

“That’s good? I think.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “It was fine, Anakin.” 

“Good,” Anakin said, swallowing around a lump in his throat. All the questions he had and everything he wanted was trapped and he couldn’t get any of it out. He picked up another cookie, but didn’t eat it. “Are you teaching winter quarter?”

“I am.” Obi-Wan said, the hint of humor in his eyes lingered, and Anakin fought the urge to squirm and run. “And you?”

“I’m TA for a section of CSE110, yeah. Couldn’t get out of it. It’s the worst. They barely know how to turn on a computer, let alone write an algorithm.”

“That’s what you’re for.”

“Guess so.” Anakin wasn’t sure exactly what his face was doing, but he probably wasn’t hiding his disdain very well. At least the annoyance of work was overcoming his crush and making him less anxious. “It’s still the worst.”

Obi-Wan put a heavy hand on his shoulder, patting it in mock sympathy. “You’ll survive.”

“Will I even want to?” Anakin grumbled, trying not to lean into his hand too obviously.

Obi-Wan smiled wider. “Well, don’t be a stranger. I’ve hardly seen you lately. It seems like only yesterday I was troubling you with lectures every week.”

Anakin flushed, running a hand through his curls, messing them up. “It’s been years.”

“The time does fly,” Obi-Wan agreed. His attention lingered on Anakin’s hair as though debating fixing it. The kitchen door opened, and their bubble of privacy popped. Obi-Wan stepped back, and Anakin realized he’d been standing rather close. The nerves came back in a rush, and he looked back at the cookies, snagging another one. 

Obi-Wan patted his arm again in a parting gesture, turning to answer when his name was called. He shot Anakin one last look. “Good to see you.”

Anakin just nodded, feeling his chance slip away. “Good to see you too.”

He watched Obi-Wan walk out, and sighed wistfully. Obi-Wan’s stride was as unconsciously arrogant as always, a kind of natural swagger. Anakin wanted to suck his dick so bad it was like a physical ache. He shoved another cookie into his mouth, squaring his shoulders before returning to the party. 

Don’t ask, don’t get.

The last hours before midnight slid by, and Anakin slowly mustered his resolve. He wished he could get drunk, get some liquid courage, but that was the exact way to not get what he wanted. He had a sense that Obi-Wan would be scrupulously correct about consent. He hastily shoved away a wild fantasy about Obi-Wan losing his temper and taking him anyway. 

He felt a bolt of panic, watching Obi-Wan head to the door as if he were about to leave. He checked the time on his phone, frowning at 10:30pm. He followed him, trying to seem as casual as possible. He caught up to him by the front door, getting ready to go. He couldn’t leave yet!  

“Hey, uh, wait,” Anakin said nervously. 

Obi-Wan wrapped his scarf around his neck, his expression turning concerned. “Yes?”  

Anakin checked the hallway to make sure they were alone. Obi-Wan lifted an interested eyebrow, watching curiously as Anakin leaned closer and dropped his volume, saying a rushed, mumbled jumble of words. “Are-you-into-BDSM?”  

“What?” Obi-Wan paused, face going blank before his gaze sharpened. “Why are you asking me that?”

Anakin winced, shrinking under the intensity of Obi-Wan’s stare, but refusing to back down. “Padmé… she said that you're a dom?” 

“Did she?” Obi-Wan asked mildly, pulling on his coat. “I can scarcely imagine the context where that came up.”

“I…yeah…” Anakin was losing conviction steadily. “She… never mind.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Tell me.”

Anakin wanted to die, but he couldn’t go back, so he had to go forward. “Do you… are you… would you… me? Do me?” He finally pushed out the question and went red. 

Obi-Wan was as still as a statue, his expression impossible to read, and there was a potent, heavy silence between them. Eventually Anakin couldn’t take it, he cringed, opening his mouth to apologize and run.

Obi-Wan spoke first. “You've been nothing but assertive and combative as long as I've known you, Anakin, and I've known you for a very long time.”

Anakin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “I know I am, I have been, but…”

“But you want me.”  

“Sorry.”  

“Don't apologize,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “I am… flattered.” 

Anakin thought he heard a ‘but’ tacked on, and winced. “Sorry…”

“Stop apologizing.” Obi-Wan gave him an intense, annoyed look that pinned him in place. “You’ll forgive me for taking a moment to process the idea of you submitting to me at all, Anakin. You've had what, weeks? To think about this?”

“Yeah…”

“I've never thought of you in this way before. You were a small boy when I met you.” 

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” Anakin stepped back. He knew he was too young, how was he ever going to live this down? He must seem so pathetic, and—

“Stop.” 

Anakin stopped. 

Obi-Wan was still thinking, but now his eyes were moving, flicking up and down his body and observing him, following the lines of his legs before lingering on his mouth. Anakin swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do with his hands. Obi-Wan’s eyes slid up to meet his again, and they seemed darker. His voice was certainly deeper, more intent. “Come here, then.”

Anakin stepped forward clumsily, obeying the command on instinct; he felt pulled by gravity tipped sideways, like he was water running downhill, and it was necessary and easy to give in. Obi-Wan lifted a hand, palm out, and Anakin almost walked into it, stopping short. He was breathing far too hard to seem reasonable, waiting trembling for another command.  

Obi-Wan exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, but a satisfied sound, a theory confirmed. He moved the hand up to cup the back of Anakin’s neck, squeezing fondly, pulling him a bit closer. “You can be a good boy, can't you?”

Anakin felt clobbered in the back of the head, and almost weak at the knees. He was sure his eyes were wide and starry. “Yes. Yes… sir?” 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, either at his wobbling posture, or at the title, or both. “How drunk are you? Answer honestly.” 

“I'm not at all,” Anakin said, immediately defensive. 

Obi-Wan didn't seem convinced. “Really?” 

Anakin needed him to believe him, eyes wide and earnest. “I'm not really supposed to drink on my meds so I only had one shot when I arrived.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a pointed, disappointed look, and his hand dropped from Anakin’s neck; Anakin wanted it back immediately. “One drink is not none, young one. If your doctor gives you instructions, I expect you to follow them precisely.”

“Sorry… I was just. Scared to talk to you about this. Didn’t know how to.” 

Obi-Wan’s face softened a bit, and he did return a hand to his shoulder. A knot of tension in Anakin’s chest pleasantly dissolved at the contact. “Regardless, Anakin. If you can't follow simple instructions from a medical provider, how do I know you'll follow mine?”

“Let me prove it,” Anakin whispered, leaning forward hopefully. “Please can we? Will you?” 

“Oh, we’ve already started, Anakin.” Obi-Wan laughed huskily, eyes shifting past Anakin down the empty hallway back to the party. “I’ll do us both the favor of skipping the usual rituals like going out to dinner first.”

Anakin’s mouth opened and closed several times, his heart pounding. He found his coat in the pile and grabbed it, shoving his arms through the sleeves. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan smirked, and kept studying him like he’d never seen him before. It felt like there was a spotlight on him, and all his movements felt unnatural. Obi-Wan seemed relaxed, though, no longer guarded. It was alluring how confident he seemed, how sure of himself, and Anakin wanted a piece of it for himself. 

Obi-Wan watched him struggle with his boots, and pulled out his phone, texting someone. “Back to mine? I have a couple more parties on the docket that I would absolutely not mind skipping.” 

“Please,” Anakin nodded quickly, hopping slightly to keep his balance. “If you want, I mean. I need it.” 

Obi-Wan smiled, soft and warm, and opened the door into the winter night. “Let's go.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” 

Anakin nervously followed behind him, the door shutting on the party and muting the sound all at once. The evening was snowy and cold, the crunch beneath his feet as he walked along was very loud in his ears. He hugged himself, shooting Obi-Wan glances just to confirm he was still there. 

“You are rather nervous,” Obi-Wan observed neutrally.  

Anakin nodded. 

“I prefer verbal answers, Anakin.” 

“Oh, yeah. I…”

“What?”

Anakin kicked a chunk of ice, watching it skitter off the sidewalk. “I don't want to do anything wrong.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly, pausing beneath a street lamp, snowflakes in his hair. “Look at me.”

Anakin met his eyes, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. Obi-Wan raised a hand to cup his jaw, his thumb pulling his lip free of his teeth. He held Anakin’s head in place, leaning forward and gently pressing an almost chaste kiss to his mouth. “Better?” 

Anakin couldn't talk; he just nodded, rubbing his cheek against the palm of Obi-Wan's glove, blinking fast as he processed the kiss. The twisting, squirming mess of anxiety was draining away with the contact, and he finally felt steady on his feet again. 

“Answer verbally,” Obi-Wan reminded him, letting him go. “It’s important to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Anakin said quietly, lifting a hand to the cheek Obi-Wan had just released. “I liked that.”  

Obi-Wan smiled. “Good.”

They walked the distance of the last few blocks to Obi-Wan’s building without talking. The world was so hushed; the snow falling muffled most sound, and it was easy to indulge the silence of the night. Random fireworks popped off in the distance, and sometimes he could hear snatches of parties, but the entirety of the world seemed far away. 

Anakin felt dazed and alive; he couldn't believe any of this. He was so hyper aware of Obi-Wan walking beside him. He was incredulous that he'd asked, and frankly astonished that he'd been successful. It didn't feel real. He kept shooting looks sideways, and Obi-Wan had the grace not to comment about it. 

He paused at the locked external door of Obi-Wan’s building, unable to stop himself from checking as Obi-Wan used his keys. “You really… want this? Me?” 

Obi-Wan placed a hand on his lower back in answer, guiding him through the door into the blessedly warm air inside. He pressed the button to call the elevator and turned to face Anakin, his brow furrowing thoughtfully, his careful, accented words filled the deserted lobby. “The idea was new, yes, but I'm not exactly struggling to accommodate it, Anakin. You're a very handsome and headstrong young man. The fact that you'd choose to kneel for me is… heady.” 

“Is it?” Anakin asked, unable to meet his eyes, his face burning with heat. 

Obi-Wan seemed to frown and smile at the same time, a gently incredulous expression. The elevator door opened and he pushed Anakin inside, choosing his floor and letting the doors slide closed behind them. “You're very unsure about your appeal.”

Anakin shrugged, turning his back to the wall, grimacing in apology at his insecurity. He knew it wasn't an attractive trait, but he couldn’t stop. “I just can't believe you want me.” 

“That feeling is mutual.” Obi-Wan murmured. He stepped forward, crowding Anakin into a corner, his face looming so large, Anakin couldn't breathe. 

He wanted to kiss him so badly, but he couldn't make himself move forward to close the distance, frozen with eyes wide. Obi-Wan’s proximity trapped and electrified him, and he made an inarticulate, pleading noise. Obi-Wan smiled slowly, crinkles appearing beside his eyes, a teasing glint. “Words, Anakin. Use them.” 

Anakin licked his lips and tried weakly. “I need…”

“Need what?” 

He scowled, hating feeling so completely flustered. “You, I don't know!” 

“Interesting attitude,” Obi-Wan said, lifting a hand to Anakin’s chest, making him aware of how fast and shallow he was breathing. “Calm.”

Anakin tried his best, but he felt like he was close to vibrating apart. The elevator door opened to Obi-Wan’s floor and he moved back, turning and leading Anakin down the hall. He felt dragged forward out with a kind of magnetism of need. Obi-Wan just smiled, leading him to his door.

Anakin watched him unlock it, his eyes caught and held by the movement of his hands. He stumbled inside after him and fumbled the door closed behind him. He was immediately pressed against it by Obi-Wan, and kissed with experience and intent, he made a muffled, desperate noise and kissed back.

Obi-Wan’s lips were so warm and soft, beard scratchy; Anakin didn't know what to do with his hands, he was barely standing up. Obi-Wan pulled back and looked very satisfied with Anakin’s breathless pliancy. “Lovely.”

Anakin flushed. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s voice shifted into something Anakin hadn't quite heard before, only hints and echoes of it. He was utterly in control, and brooked no argument. “You will tell me if anything happens that you don't like.”

“Sure, okay.” Obi-Wan looked at him as though he should know better. Anakin flushed, exhilarated and deeply embarrassed with what he wanted. What he needed. “Okay, sir.” 

“Good,” Obi-Wan approved. Anakin wanted to live inside the rich, warm tone of his voice. It was going to haunt his dreams, he could already tell. “I want you to relax, Anakin. Padmé was not wrong about my experience and taste, and I think you asked me because you knew you could trust me. I don’t take that trust lightly. I will take care of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anakin said fervently.

He gasped as Obi-Wan kissed him again, a hand sliding into his hair and grabbing firmly, the kiss turning more possessive and consuming than before, making him moan helplessly. Obi-Wan licked the seam of his lips as he opened it, biting and sucking on his bottom lip. The sharp sensation traveled directly to Anakin’s cock, making him grab at the back of Obi-Wan’s coat and pull him close. He whined sadly as Obi-Wan stepped back instead. 

Obi-Wan deliberately took off and hung his coat on a hook, gracefully untying and pulling off his boots. He waited with hand outstretched, beckoning for Anakin to hand his own coat over too. Anakin jumped and struggled with his zipper, clumsily shedding his outer layer at the same time as he stepped out his shoes, making Obi-Wan laugh quietly at his uncharacteristic lack of grace. 

Anakin huffed, flustered. “Now what?”

“Come with me,” Obi-Wan instructed, leading him through his apartment, ending in a tidy bedroom. He gestured inside in invitation, voice steady and calm. “Take off your clothes and kneel beside the bed.” 

“Oh…” Anakin swallowed thickly. Straight to it. “Of course, sir.”

He moved forward toward Obi-Wan's bed as though in a dream, absently losing his clothes and letting it all drop at random. He hoped Obi-Wan wouldn’t care about the mess, but he couldn’t be careful or delicate now. He dropped to his knees, barely aware of the impact with the ground, drunk on the feeling of being watched. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin found a predatory kind of gleam in his eyes as he looked at him. His cock was already so hard it ached, and he felt almost lightheaded with how little blood was making it to his brain. 

He was sure he sounded drunk. “Are you… will you punish me?”

Obi-Wan actually laughed, his eyes dark and amused. “Punish you? For what?” 

“I don't know. Everything.”  

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently, standing close by and petting his hair. “You've done nothing wrong, darling.”  

“Yes, I have!” 

The gentleness of Obi-Wan’s voice slid toward steel, his eyes narrowing and hand going still on the top of his head. “Are you arguing with me?” 

Anakin shook his head. “No, sir.” 

Obi-Wan crossed his arms across his chest and studied his face; Anakin felt utterly transparent. He wasn't sure what was written on his heart, but sure that Obi-Wan could read it. He stroked a hand through his hair again, and Anakin sighed with relief. 

“Tonight, Anakin, at least tonight to me you've done absolutely nothing worth punishing. You've been very brave in asking me for what you want, and I'm pleased with you.” 

“Oh,” Anakin breathed, his eyebrows shooting up. “Really?”

“You've been very good, Anakin.”

The praise was so heady, warm like the perfect hug he'd always craved and rarely gotten. “Thank you. Asking felt… bad.” 

“It wasn’t,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “I'm in control here, and I decide, isn't that what you wanted?” 

“Yes,” Anakin said, strangled with relief. “That's what I want. Please.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said crisply. “Stay there.”

Anakin nodded dumbly, and Obi-Wan stepped out of the room, briefly leaving him alone with his churning thoughts and heavy cock. It wasn’t long before he came back with a cup of water, a towel, and two small bottles. Each moment waiting had built on the one before, need spiraling on need until he was flying apart inside, dizzy with uncertainty and hope.

He looked up desperately at Obi-Wan as he returned. “Obi-Wan, please…” 

Obi-Wan put everything down and looked at him seriously as he loosened his tie. “You really meant it, didn't you? You're really mine.” 

“Yes, sir,” Anakin said fervently. “Please!” 

Obi-Wan sat on the side of the bed and patted his thigh. “Come here.” 

Anakin shivered and crawled up to straddle his lap. He was very aware of all his bare skin rubbing against Obi-Wan's clothes. He felt so vulnerable, so exposed, not sure if he was allowed to touch him with his cock. He whined as Obi-Wan grabbed his thighs and tugged him even closer, until Anakin’s hard length ground against the front of Obi-Wan's slacks.

Anakin felt dizzy when he felt that Obi-Wan really was hard too, exhaling hard as their cocks pressed and slid against each other. He grabbed onto Obi-Wan's shoulders for support, unable to stop his hips rocking forward, squirming to get more contact. Obi-Wan’s grip on his thighs tightened almost to a point of pain to hold him still, and he hoped he would have fingerprint bruises tomorrow to remember this by. 

“Stop moving.” 

Anakin froze obediently, and Obi-Wan squeezed his hands in approval before letting go in order to open the larger of the two bottles beside him. He rubbed his hands together to warm up the slick, sweetly scented massage oil, and gave Anakin’s chest a long, considering look. “You really are remarkable, Anakin. I am going to touch you now.”

Anakin’s face burned with heat. “What?”

Obi-Wan stroked his slick palms slowly up his stomach, his fingers carefully following the ridges of his ribs and the line of his collarbones. Anakin was barely breathing by the time he slid his hands across the breadth of his shoulders, and he shuddered as Obi-Wan slid his hands down his arms, cupping his biceps and squeezing his wrists, linking their fingers and holding tight. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked weakly, looking down at their joined hands. He made a small noise of loss as Obi-Wan let go, returning his touch to his chest, sliding down this time, his fingers finding and teasingly following across the line of his iliac furrows, skimming through the faint hair trail down toward his cock, but not touching it. 

Anakin groaned with frustration and rocked against him. He fully expected it when Obi-Wan immediately grabbed one of his hips to hold him still, his other hand sliding up the long column of his neck until held Anakin’s chin in his broad palm, his thumb stroking his bottom lip. His eyes were so dark as they studied him, the pupils blown. “You are truly beautiful, Anakin.” 

“Yeah?” Anakin looked away, feeling almost bashful. 

Obi-Wan sounded amused. “Are you questioning me?” 

“No, I just—”

“You wanted to submit, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said pointedly, arching his brows. “That means accept my word as final. It's not up for debate.” 

“Yes, sir,” Anakin chewed on his lip again. Obi-Wan pinched it, holding it and making him struggle to say the rest of his words. “Dank you, sir.” 

“Good,” Obi-Wan praised him, releasing his lip to pet a hand through his hair. “Good boy.”  

“Oh…” Anakin’s cock throbbed, and he moaned, eyes fluttering shut. 

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh at a reaction and slid his hands under his thighs, gripping tight. He stood up, turning and dropping him on his back on the bed. Anakin bounced once and Obi-Wan grabbed him by his knees and flipped him over to lie on his front. He began to take off his clothes, an intense look in his eyes, and Anakin’s stomach swooped pleasantly.

Obi-Wan pushed his knees further apart, and Anakin moaned, obediently spreading his legs, loose and relaxed at being manhandled. He loved how small it made him feel, how safe, to have Obi-Wan take control of his body like this. He couldn't believe it was happening. 

Obi-Wan knelt on the bed beside him and touched his hip in a nonverbal command that Anakin followed on instinct, allowing Obi-Wan to slide a pillow under his hips. “Good, Anakin.”

“Please,” he whined as Obi-Wan adjusted his cock and let go without further contact. “Obi-Wan, please.” 

“Patience,” Obi-Wan huffed as he knelt between Anakin’s spread legs. He slowly stroked his fingertips up the ridge of his spine before sliding a hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. He shivered and then groaned as Obi-Wan tightened his grip, pushing his face roughly into the blankets. He rocked his hips back, and Obi-Wan let go. 

He tried to catch his breath, listened intently as Obi-Wan popped the top of the oil to add some more to his hands, continuing his apparent mission to touch him everywhere. His hands were so big as he stroked all his exposed bare skin. He whined as Obi-Wan paused to wrap his hands around the narrowest point of his waist, lingering there as though to test whether his fingers touched, nearly completely encircling him. 

He squeezed once more before moving on down, palms stroking over his hips and following the curves of his ass, his thumbs stroking down between his cheeks and spreading him open. Anakin squirmed as he felt the cool air on sensitive skin, overwhelmed at having Obi-Wan’s eyes on that most private place, desperate for it too. “Obi-Wan, I…” 

Obi-Wan sounded slightly mesmerized. “There's a thousand things I can do to you. Do you want me inside you? Want my cock?”

“Y-yeah.”

“What was that?” 

Anakin groaned with frustration, his tongue feeling too big in his mouth as he mumbled. “Yes, sir. I want… I want you to…”

“Say it,” Obi-Wan prompted. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

“Good boy,” Obi-Wan said huskily. He stroked down the back of his thighs, finding a ticklish spot behind his knees, teasing it and enjoying making him flinch and twitch, before sliding down his calves, ankles, feet, and finally he'd touched him everywhere except one, the one place Anakin wanted it most. 

His cock was leaking onto Obi-Wan's pillow, and he felt a swell of embarrassed need but couldn’t help but rock his hips down to seek more pressure. “Please!” 

“Be still,” Obi-Wan said in an authoritative tone that made Anakin's toes curl and stomach clench. He locked his hips and stopped trying to rub his cock down on the bed, and Obi-Wan hummed approval. “Good.”

“Obi-Wan, please,” Anakin pouted, looking back with wide, imploring eyes. 

Obi-Wan didn’t seem impressed. “Don't take what you haven't been given permission to have, Anakin. You may beg me for it, but I'm the one in charge of your body and your pleasure now. It's not up to you.” 

Anakin’s eyes rolled back and he felt his cock leak, a hot pulse down his spine. “Oh…” 

“Understand?” 

Anakin groaned and nodded, squeezing his fists, satisfying his need to move, and Obi-Wan smacked his ass, prompting him to use his words. “Yes, sir! I understand.” 

“Good.” 

Obi-Wan leaned forward to suck a dark mark on the nape of his neck. He made a helpless, needy noise as Obi-Wan stroked lightly up along his inner thighs, teasing so close to where he wanted him but never reaching it. He groaned, a torrent of words pouring out. “Please, fuck me, Obi-Wan, please, touch me, sir, please!”

Obi-Wan chuckled, low and satisfied, and Anakin felt a hot spike of pleased pride at making him make that sound. He moaned embarrassingly loud as Obi-Wan finally stroked his thumb around his rim, circling and teasing, grabbing the lube and dripping some directly on his hole. He was playing with him, teasing and exploring, and it was driving him insane. 

He whined, and Obi-Wan just kissed a line down his spine, spreading lube, his voice so deep and intent. “Have you taken a cock before? Had this pretty little hole filled?” 

“Y-yes. A couple times.” 

“Good,” Obi-Wan murmured. He pushed his fingers harder against his entrance, slipping one inside. “Very good.”

Anakin clenched and jerked as the thick finger slid through the muscle, his back arching instinctively. Obi-Wan’s free hand landed heavily on his lower back and pushed down, a comforting weight as his fingers methodically and thoroughly opened him up. Anakin groaned and made himself relax, opening his legs wider and offering himself as best he could. 

Obi-Wan made a thoughtful noise, spreading his fingers and testing the stretch. “You're well trained. Opening up so easily for me. Did you get fucked open before the party?” 

“I used my own…” Anakin trailed off, pushing his face into the pillow and struggling to let the word dildo cross his lips. “Please, I need you to do it, it's not enough, never enough!”

Obi-Wan grabbed his curls and turned his face to the side, freeing his mouth. “Speak clearly.”

“Please, sir,” Anakin said desperately, enunciating as best he could. “I did it myself.”

“Greedy boy,” Obi-Wan laughed. 

Anakin whined in agreement. He felt consumed by the sensation of the thick fingers inside him, curling and stroking his walls, sending lances of pleasure up his spine to crackle through his brain. Obi-Wan's hand on his back felt so big, keeping him down, and making him feel so small and protected. “Please!”

“You do open up beautifully, Anakin,” Obi-Wan praised him, making him flush with heat. “You're taking my fingers so well, being so patient, such a good boy for me, so good.” 

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin complained weakly, forcing his eyes open. He looked back over his shoulder to check Obi-Wan’s face, and was pleased by the hazy and pleased expression he found there, the crimson flush on his cheeks spreading down to his chest. His cock was thick and heavy, flushed and darker than the rest of his skin.   

“Soon, darling,” Obi-Wan reassured him. He sat back and rolled on a condom, and Anakin whined, watching as he touched his cock, wishing it were his hands doing it instead. He was so big…  

He rocked his hips in a helpless invitation. “Please!”

Obi-Wan shook his head, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know you think you want it fast, rough, and hard, but it's my job to tell you that you’re wrong, Anakin. That's not what you really want, what you need, is it?” 

Anakin knew there was only one acceptable answer, and it was a relief to give it. “No, sir.” 

“Do you know what you really need? What I'm giving you?” 

“No, sir.”

Obi-Wan crawled up the bed, hovering above him on his elbows, his chest brushing Anakin's back, a teasing press of heated skin and scratchy hair. He put his mouth by Anakin’s ear, his breath hot and voice low. “You need me to see you’re good, and I do, Anakin. God help me, but I do. You don't have to worry anymore. I want you too. I'll take care of you.”  

Anakin had no words except a name turned into a plea. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan reached back and carefully lined up his cock. He teased for just a moment before pressing the blunt tip inside. Anakin gasped at the intrusion and clenched down despite himself. Obi-Wan made a noise low in his chest, exhaling hard. He kissed Anakin's neck, rolling his hips slowly forward and down, thrusting in deeper each time, but was still gentle, so impossibly gentle. 

“Good, Anakin, take it, just like that…” 

Anakin couldn't talk, it was impossible, his mouth kept dumbly opening and closing, and he couldn't shape the words. He felt taken apart and put together anew, perfectly complete. He made little inarticulate, whiny, embarrassing noises with each thrust. Obi-Wan’s hips rocked back and then thrust forward sharply, his entire length buried inside.

Anakin cried out and shuddered. “Yes…” 

Obi-Wan stopped moving, giving him time to adjust around his cock. Anakin wished he'd let go and take him, just fuck him hard and find his pleasure in his body, enjoy himself. He felt embarrassed that Obi-Wan was holding himself back. “I can take it,” he gasped. “Give it to me, please, Obi-Wan!”

“No,” Obi-Wan bit his ear sharply. A hand jumped to his hip, grabbing and holding him painfully tight as Anakin tried to push back and get more before he was allowed. “Be still, you impossible brat.” 

“But I want you to come!” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan laughed breathily, and his voice was so fond, Anakin didn't understand how he could sound so warm. Why wasn't he moving?!

Obi-Wan bit down where his neck met his shoulder, slowly, so painfully slowly, pulling his hips back and rolling forward, sliding his cock even deeper inside. His voice was more and more rough and breathless, for all that he didn't shut up. “What did I tell you about telling me what to do? I know you're new at this, but we're going to have to train that out of you, and quickly.” 

Anakin pouted. “Yeah, okay, fine…”

Obi-Wan still sounded so amused. “‘Yes, sir,’ is your line. Your only line. ‘Yes, sir,’ or ‘no, sir.’ Maybe ‘please.’” 

“Yes, sir,” Anakin said desperately, trying again to get him to move faster. “Please, sir.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said, pouring more lube on his cock and then fucking him faster, finally speeding up. “Does this hurt?”

Anakin whined negatively and shook his head, shoving his face into the bed. The sensation was overwhelming and electric, not painful, or maybe a kind of pain that tugged him inexorably toward orgasm. Obi-Wan tugged sharply on his curls to prompt his reply, he remembered to answer verbally. “No, sir.” 

“Good.” Obi-Wan groaned and sped up, his voice getting strangled as he thrust down again and again, fucking him into the mattress. “Do you need a hand on your cock to come?” 

Anakin moaned, the pressure of the pillow under his hips and the soft fabric rubbing on his cock already making him worryingly close. “No, sir!”

“Good boy. Now just relax and take it. Daddy's going to fill you up.”

“Oh god,” Anakin whined, almost certain that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually meant to say that but overwhelmed that he did. “Please!” 

Obi-Wan shifted back into his knees, fucking inside at a new angle that made Anakin cry out loud, an involuntary noise that he repeated when Obi-Wan deliberately fucked him again in the same way, the sensation was so overwhelming and electric, his cock throbbed and leaked, his balls high and tight, he was so close. “Please, sir, please!”

“Come, then.” Obi-Wan ground out, and he made a fist in his hair and tugged hard enough to make his neck and shoulder bend back, his hips speeding up and relentlessly hitting his prostate. He whined as Obi-Wan commanded him, no room for question or debate. “Come on my cock.”

Anakin whimpered, trembling and holding back as best he could. “But you… ”

Obi-Wan swatted his ass as he fucked him, with a sharp crack and a spike of pain. Anakin gasped, eyes rolling back, so Obi-Wan did it again. “Now, Anakin. Do it now.”

“Obi-Wan, please…” 

Obi-Wan growled and slapped the same spot, hitting his stinging skin again, the pain was sharp and emphatic. Anakin groaned, and intense orgasm abruptly rolled through him, everything clenching and releasing in a tidal wave. He squeezed his eyes closed, his brain wiped clean as his cock pulsed and he guiltily spilled come all over Obi-Wan's pillow. “God, fuck…”

Obi-Wan slowed the rhythm of his hips down, fucking him smoothly through it. He pulled out when Anakin was finished, sitting back and tugging off the condom, hastily tossing it aside. “Roll over.” 

Anakin with great effort flipped on his back and looked up at Obi-Wan kneeling over him, his hand moving quickly on his cock. He was so handsome; it was so devastatingly attractive to see his cheeks flushed red, mouth open, eyes jumping as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to look at as he came, looking from Anakin’s cock to his nipples and his lips and up… 

“Please,” Anakin whined. He made eye contact and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue as an invitation. Obi-Wan swore and moved forward, his face going tight as he came, hot streaks of come landing up Anakin’s neck and across his face. He groaned and licked his lips, tasting the come with a low moan. “Obi-Wan…”

Obi-Wan just exhaled and shook his head, sitting back on his heels and looking slightly shell shocked. Anakin looked up at him for a long moment before he reached up and pulled him down. He needed to hold him close, chest to chest, not sure why, but he was absolutely certain it was Obi-Wan who needed reassurance in that moment, far more than he did. 

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.”  

Obi-Wan didn’t resist as Anakin wrapped his arms around him. He exhaled, hot and shuddery on Anakin’s neck as he caught his breath. “Good?”

“Yes,” Anakn said firmly. He kissed Obi-Wan’s temple and pressed his cheek against his head, rubbing against his slightly disheveled hair like a friendly cat marking its territory. “It was perfect.” 

The uncertainty clung to Obi-Wan, Anakin could feel the tension growing in his body. “You're really okay with what I…” 

“Yes, sir,” Anakin said playfully. Obi-Wan pulled his head back, his eyes bright and intense. His composure was returning, the confidence filtering back into his tone, and Anakin tightened his arms for emphasis. “I liked it.”

“Anakin…” 

Anakin turned the question around, earnestly looking up at him. “You really want me?”

“Very much.” Obi-Wan sighed, freeing himself from Anakin’s embrace and slumping to the side, looking at the ceiling. “This was all… a surprise, but a welcome one.” 

Anakin grinned, turning to snuggle on his chest instead, refusing to separate yet. “Wizard…” 

“Wizard?” Obi-Wan scoffed, wrapping a loose arm around his back and offering him the corner of the sheet to wipe the come off his neck. “That's not… that’s not a thing. It’s never been a thing.” 

“Well, I'm making it one.” Anakin said happily as he cleaned himself off, just so impossibly pleased, he couldn’t stop smiling.

Obi-Wan laughed, his tone fond and exhausted. “You're an idiot, darling.” 

Anakin nodded seriously. “Your idiot.” 

“Yes, apparently so.” Obi-Wan smiled and stroked his thumb across Anakin’s cheekbone, still somewhat incredulous. “Mine.”