“Did you hear? The Seps took Coruscant.”
“What?” Obi-Wan blinked at the parts vendor, taken off guard. “Sorry?”
“Coruscant,” the young Rodian shrugged, head propped on his hand, sounding almost bored. “I heard Palpatine was killed a couple rotations ago. It’s all over the Holos.”
“What?” Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped, and he felt the absence of a lightsaber on his hip like the ache of a phantom limb. “He’s dead?”
“The Chancellor didn’t die, Neb.” Another customer, a tall, green male Twi’lek, was giving the merchant a condescending look. “He just got kidnapped. Stop trying to scare people.”
“Kidnapped?” Obi-Wan looked between them, and still felt like he was standing on shifting sand. This wasn’t his responsibility anymore, but he still felt so deeply invested. “Do they still—”
“Nah,” the Twi’lek shrugged, a sneer on his face. “Some Jedi immediately did something , I guess. He’s fine. Coruscant is fine. Wish they’d actually do something on kriffing Felucia, but I guess Coruscant is way more important, or whatever.”
The Rodian grumbled, standing up and straightening his tunics. “I wasn’t trying to scare anyone, Kevath, I was just passing on the news.”
“The Jedi licking the Republic’s boots isn’t news,” the Twi’lek sniped and turned back to the pile of motivators that he’d been digging through, a sour look lingering on his face. “Nothing ever changes.”
Obi-Wan noticed his scarred arm and prosthetic leg with a wince. He felt a familiar, irrational sting of failure at the powerlessness of the Jedi to prevent so much suffering, and tightened his jaw, knowing better than to try to explain or defend the Jedi—no minds would be changed, and he would only draw attention to himself on this backwater Mid Rim planet.
He very much did not want to be recognized.
It wasn’t as though he and Anakin were really in hiding, but they were unfortunately just a little too famous, and it caused no end of problems. The war had lasted too long, and their names and exploits had been spread so wide on the HoloNet that they were a little too popular or too reviled, depending on the system.
While this particular planet did host a small Republic resupply base, staffed by a platoon of clone troopers, the civilian population was mostly neutral to indifferent. There shouldn’t be a problem being recognized, but refugees were a common sight in all spaceports these days and their political allegiance was impossible to predict.
There was always the massive C.I.S. bounty to consider. Any hope of the price on their heads being dropped after they had, in an unfortunately public and controversial fashion, stepped away from the G.A.R. and the Order had been quickly dashed. Someone somewhere was holding a grudge; they were wanted dead or alive by the Separatists for their alleged past war crimes, which was charming.
Obi-Wan just wanted to pick up everything on the list that Anakin had insisted he needed and return back to the ship so they could move on, getting even further from Separatist space and hopefully closer to wherever Ahsoka was. He slid Anakin’s datapad over the counter, and the Rodian caught it, scanning the list quickly before he nodded and disappeared into the back.
Alone in the small, cluttered storefront with the unfriendly Twi’lek, Obi-Wan turned to face the far wall, rubbing his temples and trying to put his lingering concern for the state of the Republic out of his mind. The safety of Chancellor Palpatine was no longer his and Anakin’s concern, and thank the Force that they had missed the news of the attack on Coruscant.
If Anakin had seen it, he almost certainly would have run off to go help his friends, the Chancellor and Senator Amidala, incipient heat or no, due to some nightmares that had probably been prophetic after all. Luckily, he was so fixated on his preparations for his first unsuppressed heat that he was distracted from checking the HoloNet.
He was very distracted, and very distracting.
Obi-Wan sighed with fond exasperation. It was almost amusing that the galaxy at large expected the Alpha to be the dominant partner, when Obi-Wan knew that he would immediately do everything his Omega asked him to do. He felt utterly helpless to deny Anakin anything, especially when he blinked up at him with wide eyes and smelled like oncoming heat.
The smell of Anakin’s sweat and the taste of his mouth lately had been growing ever sweeter, ever more alluring and addictive as he grew closer to peak fertility. It was driving Obi-Wan insane. He still couldn’t quite believe that he was even allowed to touch Anakin at all—allowed to have these feelings and then act on them.
It was deeply satisfying in a way he’d never even let himself imagine to have Anakin, his Omega, so close and so eager and available for his touch. His mate seemed to always be panting for him, offering his neck in submission, begging to be touched. Obi-Wan could never say no, it was inconceivable to even think of denying him.
Anakin was impossibly alluring, all long limbs, broad shoulders and narrow waist, a strong jawline and pink, pouting lips. Light always danced on his golden curls, and made his skin seem to glow with health and vitality. Obi-Wan found his eyes always drawn to him, always fascinated by his beauty. Now that he was allowed to look, allowed to see.
Obi-Wan was allowed to notice how Anakin made him laugh, astonishing him with his ingenuity, so very clever and unexpectedly wise. They bickered constantly but never actually fought, and it brought Obi-Wan a sense of peace beyond words to see Anakin curl up on his chest to sleep after a long day of driving him insane.
He could constantly smell himself on Anakin’s skin—living and traveling together, sharing clothes, sharing a bed, their lives had become more close and intertwined than ever before, which was saying something. It drove his Alpha self, the deepest part of himself, the part he’d spent a lifetime denying and ignoring, wild with visceral satisfaction.
He had not wanted at all to leave the ship as it refueled earlier, but had much preferred to help Anakin stack pillows and then push him down on the pile, kiss his laughing mouth, lose himself in soft, wet heat—but Anakin had insisted that he needed him to pick up these particular parts from these particular vendors in order to finish making their ship feel like home before he went into heat. How exactly was Obi-Wan supposed to say “No” to that?
He was still adjusting to having a home other than the Temple, and he would do anything to help Anakin settle in and make himself comfortable. If his Omega was home, he was home too. As Anakin would remind him: it was not just the ship. It was their ship.
Obi-Wan ran a hand down his face, trying to shake off the wrongness of it. Privately owning a starship was very strange, but ultimately it hadn’t been up to him. Quinlan Vos had withdrawn a sizable number of aurodium ingots from the slush fund that the Jedi used for missions, expensed them with the tacit consent of Master Windu, of all people, and then given them to Anakin to buy a ship behind Obi-Wan’s back.
Obi-Wan had been aghast at the scope of the conspiracy, but Anakin was so happy with his brand new YT-1300 Corellian light freighter that it was hard to stay mad. He’d been watching Anakin’s face, not the ship, when they’d seen it for the first time, and he wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.
Anakin’s eyes were so bright, and his enthusiasm for ships and flight was so pure. After so many years of war, to see any innocent joy on his face at all was the most satisfying thing possible.
They’d been recalled to Coruscant briefly and then left the Temple together for the ship, their ship, their bags packed with what few belongings they had. Master Windu insisted that it was a medical retirement from the G.A.R. and voluntary resignation from the Knighthood, not a dishonorable discharge and expulsion from the Order, as the HoloNet breathlessly insisted, which was kind.
Master Yoda had expressed no small amount of concern about the strength of their bond, but Mace had kept looking at them like they were a puzzle finally solved and insisting that it was fine, as long as they retired. Did their mating really affect the shatterpoints so very much?
Their actions must have undone some kind of knot in the Force that had been giving Mace a headache. Despite losing two competent and famous Generals in one blow—a Council member and the Chosen One no less—he remained oddly cheerful and had sent them on their way into private life with visible relief.
Anakin had grumbled that he didn’t know whether to be offended or not; Obi-Wan had only shrugged and pulled him away. The Outer Rim sieges would continue without them, the war churning ever on, never seeming to near an end, but their involvement ended there and then, and almost everyone agreed that it was for the best.
Even the men had been supportive, or had at least gone to great pains to appear that way whenever Obi-Wan or Anakin went to ask. It felt so wrong to abandon them, but they couldn’t stay and the troopers couldn’t leave. It had been a relief to visit Senator Amidala and watch her tease Anakin and make him blush about having pined for so long, now getting what he’d wanted so very badly but thought he’d never have.
Chancellor Palpatine, on the other hand, had been intensely confused and disappointed by what happened. As another human Alpha, he had chastised Obi-Wan at length for losing control and taking advantage, and Obi-Wan had barely resisted showing him his teeth at the implications.
Anakin had apologized for everything profusely, sticking to Obi-Wan’s side and radiating a worrying amount of shame and regret, to the degree that Obi-Wan eventually had to excuse them both. He’d also found himself unable to handle the covetous way that blasted Palpatine had been looking at Anakin—Obi-Wan’s Omega, Obi-Wan’s mate.
They had left Coruscant that night, and had spent most of the last few months avoiding the war and slowly planet-hopping away from the Core.
Obi-Wan watched the Twi’lek out of the corner of his eye, studying his scars. He was aware that he should probably feel a much greater degree of irresponsibility and perhaps shame at running away—at his inability to help end the war and use his gifts to save lives—but his priorities had permanently shifted. That was the reason Knights couldn’t have mates: the rest of the galaxy simply no longer mattered to him as much as Anakin did.
He knew that Anakin felt much the same. Anakin loved him. His mate. It was all still so unreal.
They were at the moment living off the spare credits from Vos’s embezzlement and following Anakin’s instincts in looking for Ahsoka, all while working together to install various additional shields, military-grade sensors and, to Obi-Wan’s chagrin, upgraded laser cannons to Anakin’s beloved Krayt Pearl.
Their ship.
The sense of security that the additional defenses provided had made it easier for Obi-Wan to leave their ship on the landing pad earlier, so he had no real room to complain. No matter how much he loathed being outside of scent, sight, or shouting distance of his Omega, he knew that Anakin could defend himself—as long as he wasn’t incapacitated by heat, which he wasn’t. Not yet.
As if sensing his thoughts, Anakin tugged gently on their bond in the Force, his consciousness flickering needily at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and tugged back, giving a reassurance that he would return soon. Anakin had made him leave and then been calling him back all afternoon, with increasing frequency and intensity.
Hopefully his heat would start soon, and he would stop being so impossibly needy and changeable.
Obi-Wan tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently, and took a deep breath that did very little to calm him down. The colorful market was crowded and full of too many scents and too much noise. His instincts had him in a heightened state of vigilance anyway, ever since Anakin’s scent had begun to shift, and he began to smell more and more intoxicating.
His Omega was going into heat, he needed him back, he needed him…
“Here you are,” the Rodian returned from the back, and plopped a large box of miscellaneous droid and starship repair parts on the counter. Oh Anakin, Obi-Wan thought fondly, only you would need droid parts to nest. “It’s all there, I double checked.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan smiled tightly, and passed over a small stack of credits and then an even smaller stack as a tip. The Rodian pocketed the extra credits, nodding in appreciation, and sat back down on his stool, already beginning to look bored.
Obi-Wan hefted the box and carried it to his speeder outside, skirting the Twi’lek with his face turned away, very glad that all his tasks were done and he could finally get out of the market. He hadn’t been able to find any meiloorun fruit, so Anakin was just going to have to go without, unfortunately. He had everything else on the list, and would make it up to him somehow.
Obi-Wan powered up the speeder and shot forward, joining a stream of traffic headed to the spaceport, hastening back to their ship. He could check the HoloNet and check in with the Jedi later. Not that they would tell him anything confidential about the kidnapping—the fate of the Republic was not in his hands, not anymore, so he could let it go, and worry about his family as his instincts were demanding instead.
That was the whole reason that it had been so essential for them to leave.
His protective and possessive instincts had been going haywire as he adjusted to having a mate. The bond between their minds in the Force and an overwhelming sense of physical attachment made it feel like Anakin was woven through his head and his heart, tethered so tight. It was almost physically painful to separate—almost impossible to leave him alone and vulnerable.
Obi-Wan knew that these behaviors were predicated on the instinctual belief that Anakin was probably carrying his child, and the fact that he was not actually pregnant did not seem to matter to his Alpha self. It didn’t actually matter to Obi-Wan either, though he’d been quietly disappointed despite himself when the medical droid on board the Resolute informed them that Anakin’s lingering suppressants had interfered with his fertility.
Anakin, on the other hand, had been devastated by the news. He’d immediately assumed that it meant he’d failed, that he was a bad Omega, and that Obi-Wan would change his mind about leaving with him. As if a mating bond was a thing that could be taken back.
He’d quietly slipped away on the pretext of going to medical when Obi-Wan had been distracted checking in with the Council and reporting what had happened during the battle. He’d hidden instead in the furthest corner of the lowest sub-deck of the Resolute, curled up around himself, sniffling quietly—his aching loneliness and grief sending large ripples out into the still pond of the Force.
That disturbance alone would have made him easy to find, but when combined with the loud scent of his recent heat, Obi-Wan had walked directly to his hiding spot. It was much less simple to get Anakin to believe that he was enough, he didn’t need to do or be anything else—that children would come when the Force willed it. He would have a natural heat soon enough if he went off his suppressants, and Obi-Wan wanted him to do that. He wanted him.
It was only when Obi-Wan reminded him that their leaving the Jedi meant that they could go find Ahsoka that Anakin stopped spiralling about his perceived failure as an Omega, but then he’d immediately began to spiral in a new direction about whether Ahsoka was safe and happy, panicking about his inability to contact her. His insecurity had flipped from the child who didn’t exist to the former Padawan who did.
The only thing that had finally calmed him down was when Obi-Wan gave up on words altogether, switching to the only language that Anakin really seemed to believe and pay attention to—taking possession of his body and proving his feelings with his hands, his tongue, his cock. He’d kissed the words out of Anakin’s mouth, re-bitten his mating bite, and rolled him over onto his belly, yanking down his pants and proceeding to fuck him hard into the floor.
Anakin had taken his cock with a whimper and a wave of relief—his noisy mind had settled, overwhelmed with the proof of his Alpha’s continued desire and affection. He’d rolled his hips back, spread his legs, taking him so perfectly. It was Obi-Wan’s cock that had a way of calming Anakin down completely. It was something that he’d never really managed to achieve with more than a decade of Jedi training.
Obi-Wan still couldn’t really believe that he’d actually fucked his former apprentice on the cold floor of an empty hallway on his flagship, barely able to resist knotting him again there and then, the scent of his recent heat so strong, so perfect. Mating back on the planet’s surface had changed him—changed his definition of right and wrong. Anakin was right, anything Anakin needed, anything Obi-Wan could do.
Anakin tugged harder on the bond, his insistent need flaring and pressing on the back of Obi-Wan’s mind.
Obi-Wan gently acknowledged him and accelerated his speeder, weaving around traffic in a way that would make Anakin beam with pride and incredulity if he ever found out. He pushed a thought through the Force, “I will be there soon, my darling, I promise.”
Curled up in the corner of his nest, Anakin felt Obi-Wan caressing the back of his mind through the Force, and then huffed loudly, his brow furrowing and his lower lip jutting out in frustration. He focused hard, sending his summons over and over, “Hurry up, come back, now, now!”
Obi-Wan only sent him another gentle, slightly exasperated reassurance, but Anakin didn’t want reassurance. He wanted his Alpha. He needed him. He punched a pillow into a new shape and curled around it. He had such a bad feeling.
It had been growing stronger all day, for the last few days, the last few weeks actually, a sense of wrongness in the Force—like a volcano about to erupt or a star about to go supernova. Obi-Wan was convinced that it was his nerves about his upcoming heat, and that he just needed to relax and be patient and that it would pass.
Anakin grumbled and pushed his face into one of Obi-Wan’s dirty sparring shirts stolen from the laundry, snuggled up in the pile of blankets in the nest he’d constructed in the captain’s quarters of the Krayt Pearl. He knew it wasn’t the heat. Something was going to happen, something big and terrible.
He’d been having nightmares over and over of Dooku holding a crackling red blade next to the Chancellor’s neck, Maul laughing at Ahsoka wielding a black blade, his friend Padmé being locked in a tiny cell, or the Temple burning and lit up with blaster fire. Waking up, night after night, sick from terror and shaking in Obi-Wan’s arms, didn’t help at all.
It wasn’t just the heat. He knew for a fact that his dreams could come true, his mother was proof enough of that. He was sure that everyone was really in danger, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t help.
He whined loudly in frustration, pushing his face against the soft fabric and inhaling, feeling completely useless. Everything was about to fall apart, and all he could think about was Obi-Wan’s cock, Obi-Wan’s come, Obi-Wan’s hot breath on the back of his neck as he fucked him hard—taking him everywhere in their ship, over every surface, against every wall, claiming him again and again—groaning in his ear about his scent, sucking on his mating bite, always keeping him fucked stupid and full of his come.
Anakin was still astonished that Obi-Wan’s reserve had crumbled at all, and that he had actually wanted him, actually touched him. His life was better than he ever imagined it could be in some ways, and in others it was terrifying and full of unknowns. He inhaled again, falling into Obi-Wan’s deep, rich scent—his cock was throbbing impatiently, his increasingly slick hole aching with emptiness.
He reached a hand back, pushing down his soft pants and kicking them off, and then whimpered quietly as his bare cock rubbed on the sheets. His arousal was beginning to turn his brain fuzzy, and he rocked his hips, whining with need. He couldn’t help reaching back and stroking metal fingers between his legs before slowly pressing one inside. He breathed in Obi-Wan’s scent and moaned, unable to resist fingering himself open—he needed to feel full.
His heat was finally starting, he could tell. He felt so flushed, and was getting hotter and hotter, almost shaky with need—when was he really going to start leaking slick? Before Obi-Wan got back? Would he be soaking wet for him? Would Obi-Wan groan and rumble that he was a very good Omega, the best, his darling Padawan?
Anakin whimpered and fucked himself faster with his fingers, sending a heated, desperate plea into the Force. Obi-Wan’s crushing wave of awareness and concern washed over him in return—as though he finally realized why Anakin’s calls were getting so very urgent. It felt so nice, but it wasn’t enough to only feel his mind.
He needed to lick Obi-Wan’s neck and rub his cheek against his beard, and curl up on his broad chest, spreading his legs for him and taking his thick cock as it slid inside so very slowly and stretched him open wide—his Alpha flipping him over, mounting and fucking him just right, teeth in his neck, knot locked, pumping him full of come.
Anakin whined and curled his fingers, trying to fill himself up and hit the right spot, the spot that Obi-Wan could find immediately and exactly, he needed him there. The nest just felt incomplete and pointless without his Alpha there.
It wasn’t a flaw with the nest, Anakin was rather proud of his work on that. Their ship was perfectly ready for his heat, perfectly equipped and shaped for it—by design their wide bed was already halfway tucked into a bunk in the wall, and it had been easy to stack pillows and hang blankets, creating a protected space, safe and hidden away.
It was almost perfect. He just needed Obi-Wan back, he needed his Alpha, he needed him.
He froze when he sensed that the ship’s defenses had been disarmed, and that the ramp had descended. The overwhelming sense of nearness, the Force shouting that his Master was almost close enough to scent, was such a relief. Anakin relaxed, breathing deep for a moment before smirking and pulling off his own shirt, tugging on Obi-Wan’s dirty one instead, fully aware of what that did to his Alpha.
He began to rearrange pillows and part the blankets, making sure that Obi-Wan would be able to get through easily. He heard Obi-Wan approach, walking quickly down the hallway and slapping the door control panel with unusual force. The familiar sound of the door to the captain’s quarters snicked open, but Anakin didn’t hear anything else after that. He poked his head up and out, looking for his Alpha.
He made eye contact immediately, and felt frozen all over again, and then flushed through with burning heat. Obi-Wan had taken a few steps inside the room and stopped, clutching a box against his chest, and was just staring at Anakin in his nest, breathing hard. His copper hair was windswept, his cheeks flushed and his eyes so very dark, filled with so much intent.
Anakin blinked at him and blushed at the shimmering wave of Obi-Wan’s arousal that had bloomed in the Force. His hips rocked involuntarily, and he could tell that he was getting slick.
Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared, and he made a noise like he’d been punched in the gut. “Anakin.”
“Master,” Anakin breathed, his heart pounding out of his chest.
Obi-Wan finally stepped forward, holding out the box as an offering. “Is that my shirt?”
Anakin blushed and accepted the box, looking up bashfully at Obi-Wan through his lashes, something he knew drove him insane. “I needed you closer, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan groaned with frustration, unlacing and pulling off one boot, letting it drop. “You kept me well informed of that fact, darling.”
Anakin beamed at him, unrepentant, and then began pawing through the box of parts that he’d felt compelled to collect, examining each and placing it back carefully. Obi-Wan watched him, radiating quiet satisfaction in the Force. “Is it what you wanted, Padawan?”
“Yes!” Anakin chirped, happily studying a micro-hydrospanner. “Thank you!”
He heard Obi-Wan’s other boot drop, and placed the hydrospanner reluctantly back, moving the box carefully down onto the floor next to the bed. He took a deep breath and shuddered at the way Obi-Wan’s heady scent had already filled the room, surrounding and invading him as he squirmed in his nest—his Alpha’s presence was so overwhelming, so rich with promise as he drew closer.
He looked up to see Obi-Wan standing above him, his hands moving to the front of his pants, his voice so low and warm. “May I come in?”
Anakin nodded quickly and scooted backward into the nest, making room for Obi-Wan to duck inside. Obi-Wan stepped out of his pants and pulled off his shirt, crawling into the nest bare chested, the outline of his thick cock clearly visible in his underwear. Anakin immediately pounced on his chest, making Obi-Wan huff a laugh as he was rolled onto his back, chest to chest, their legs tangled together.
Anakin whimpered and pressed his nose against the warm skin of Obi-Wan’s neck, breathing him in. Obi-Wan kissed his temple and wrapped his strong arms around his back, tugging him in and holding him close. He took a long inhale of Anakin’s hair, and made an approving noise low in his throat. “So your heat has finally started, then?”
Anakin felt more than heard the rumble of Obi-Wan’s words, and he nodded again, nuzzling his face against Obi-Wan’s neck and beard affectionately before pulling his head back, searching Obi-Wan’s face. “Did you get everything else I need?”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, threading a hand through the curls on the back of Anakin’s head and pulling their foreheads together for a moment before kissing him gently. “The hyperdrive modulator and the auxiliary scanning array are still on the speeder.”
“Good, good,” Anakin breathed, leaning forward and demanding another kiss, a longer and deeper one. Obi-Wan kissed him back indulgently, squeezing him tight and sucking on his bottom lip, wrapping him in his fondness in the Force. Their closeness made their bond hum with intimacy and fall back into harmony.
Being separated was terrible, the worst. Anakin hated it. He needed his Alpha, he always needed him. He pulled back, gasping for air, seeking eye contact again, desperate for reassurance that it was really his Master, his Alpha. It still seemed unreal that Obi-Wan was there at all.
Obi-Wan smiled at him, his eyes crinkling with true warmth, and he shared the same feeling of incredulity through their bond in the Force, mixed with how much he craved to be inside him, fill and possess him. Anakin moaned; molten heat dropped down his spine at his Alpha’s approval—his cock throbbing almost painfully, his empty hole aching, leaking slick.
He felt so wet, he blushed and ducked his head, beginning to industriously kiss down Obi-Wan’s neck, seeking the scar left from his teeth. Obi-Wan hummed happily and tipped his chin up to give Anakin access, his hand scratching Anakin’s scalp and making him feel limp and tingly.
He shifted his hips to press his leaking cock against Obi-Wan’s leg, whimpering quietly. Obi-Wan stroked both his palms down his shirt on Anakin’s back and then slid his hands under to grab the cheeks of his bare ass, squeezing each handful and using his grip to pull him close, dragging their hard cocks against each other. “You are only wearing my shirt, Anakin.”
“Yes,” Anakin panted, trying to grind his cock down for more pressure. “Alpha, yes.”
Obi-Wan hummed, one of his hands letting go, the fingers slipping in to probe and stroke Anakin’s entrance, applying teasing pressure that made Anakin gasp and buck. He made a deep, satisfied noise. “You’re getting very wet, darling.”
Wait.
Anakin opened his mouth to reply, and then frowned and went still. The Force had just shifted in the back of his awareness, and he had a feeling of creeping wrongness, so strong as to almost make him feel sick and cold. Why did it feel like Windu shouting?
Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side in confusion, his fingers stopping their exploration. “What, Padawan?”
“Do you feel that?” Anakin whispered, licking his lips and trying to understand what he was sensing in the Force. His hazy, heat-drunk grip on reality was not helping, and his focus kept slipping.
Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes growing sharp and concerned. “Feel what?”
Anakin swallowed, reaching out with his feelings and trying to get a grip on what was disturbing him so much. It was elusive, but looming with so much menace—so very cold. Why was Windu shouting?
His throat was feeling suddenly thick, chest tight, impossible to breathe—he was panicking, his arousal was confusing and muddying everything. He rushed, tripping over his words. “Can we take off?”
Obi-Wan blinked at him, so confused. Anakin could have sucker punched him and gotten a similar expression. “What?
Anakin looked at him, eyes wide, his heart pounding—the Force singing of danger, danger. “I have such a bad feeling, Master. We need to go now!” He squirmed, getting in Obi-Wan’s face, needing to make him understand. “Alpha, please. We need to hide!”
“But…” Obi-Wan’s hand tightened and released on his ass, looking around the nest. “Aren’t we hidden here? You made a very good nest, Anakin.”
Anakin blushed crimson at that, but he shook his head again, sitting up and pulling away entirely. “We’re not hidden enough. Our whole ship isn’t! Something’s wrong.”
Obi-Wan stared at him uncomprehendingly, and then closed his eyes. Anakin felt him reach out into the Force, astonished as always at how Obi-Wan’s lifetime of Jedi discipline allowed him to wipe away his messy emotions like fog clouding a window and see beyond.
He shook his head after a moment. “I really can’t feel anything unusual.”
Anakin swallowed, retreating into the corner of the nest and pulling Obi-Wan’s comforter to his chest. His heat was making him feel stupid and slow—he really needed Obi-Wan’s knot—but this was so much more important. They needed to leave, they needed to hide.
“Please, Master.”
Obi-Wan sighed, pinching his nose. “Fine.” He pushed aside a blanket and shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, pressing the heel of his hand on his hard cock and looking back at Anakin, slightly pained. “Where do you want to go?”
“Rimward,” Anakin said, his voice small. He pulled the blanket around his shoulders, and curled in on himself. “Other than that I don’t care. Anywhere away from the Core.”
“Spinward or trailing?” Obi-Wan’s voice was a study in intentional patience. He was the best Alpha, so handsome and kind and good, Anakin loved him so much.
He listened as best as he could to the Force, and shrugged, anxious and unsure. “Spinward?”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as if slightly surprised, and then stood up, scratching his chest and pulling on his pants against the chill. “Very well, dear one. Whatever you want.” He crossed to the door, pausing for confirmation. “I do hope we have fuel.”
Anakin poked his head out of the nest, nodded earnestly. “We do, I checked. Everything is ready to go, Master. I just needed you.”
“And I’m here,” Obi-Wan reassured him. “I’ll get us into hyperspace and be right back.”
Anakin exhaled hard, a great weight lifting off his shoulders. “Thank you, Master.”
Obi-Wan lingered in the door for another moment, inhaling deep and slow, looking back at Anakin and the nest in appreciation. “Don’t take off my shirt.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
Obi-Wan congratulated himself wryly on achieving the impossible: pulling away from his soaking wet Omega and leaving the intoxicating scent of their nest to perform one more blasted errand, one more task, and then by the Force he was going to fuck Anakin so hard he wouldn’t be able to do anything but whine and sit on his knot for hours.
He hurried to the cockpit, rushing through the usual diagnostics and initiating takeoff. His cock was persistently hard—his fingers smelled and tasted of Anakin’s slick. He sucked them clean and swallowed a groan; refocusing on his task with effort. He tilted back the controls, speeding quickly out of the atmosphere.
Now the controls were going to smell like slick for a long time, which was… not a bad thing, actually.
He flipped on the automatic pilot and sat back, stroking a hand down his beard and trying to decide on their next destination. He knew they were near a hyperlane junction that led to Mandalore. If Anakin wanted to go away from the Core, maybe a neutral system would be best.
The Force whispered “Yes,” encouraging him on, and suddenly it felt like it had all those years ago, flying away from Naboo with a damaged hyperdrive, and seeing Tatooine appear on his screen. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Maybe Ahsoka was there.
He set the navicomputer and waited impatiently for it to finish its calculations, smiling as the light flashed almost immediately, signaling readiness—with Anakin’s questionably legal updates and modifications, it was very fast. He pushed the lever, engaging the hyperdrive, watching for a moment as the stars streaked by.
He absently brought his hand back to his mouth and sucked on a finger, making himself startle at the taste of his Omega’s slick. He turned on his heel, striding back to the cabin, a small, incredulous smile growing on his face.
The familiar hum of their ship traveling through hyperspace, the viscerally satisfying combination of their scents, and the certainty that Anakin was safe and in heat, waiting for him, happy with their nest—it all made Obi-Wan feel really at home for the first time since they left the Temple.
He arrived back at the cabin and inhaled deep, taking in the dizzying, mouth-watering scent of Anakin. His cock throbbed almost painfully, and he stepped forward, parting the blankets that protected the nest and felt his breath catch.
It was clear that Anakin felt him coming back, as he was in a classic presenting posture on the bed, facing away from him with his forehead pressed to the mattress, his ass in the air, legs spread wide, hips tipped back.
Obi-Wan froze for a moment, his heart stopping and then beginning to pound. He inhaled slowly, taking in and appreciating the tableau of his Omega, presenting his slick, pink hole for him, in their nest, so ready to be bred. It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, his voice came out almost unrecognizably low. “Very good, Omega.“
“Alpha,” Anakin whined, relieved, his hips rocking. “Please, I need you!”
Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully, pulling down his pants and palming his cock, watching Anakin shift and squirm, his hips rocking slightly, wiggling in invitation. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
Anakin shot him a knowing, dirty look. “Fuck me, knot me, obviously, Master.”
Obi-Wan crawled back into the nest and up and over Anakin’s body, cock rubbing against Anakin’s ass, chest pressed to his back, mouth next to his ear—covering him completely. Anakin froze and trembled beneath him as he whispered, “Maybe I like to hear you say it.”
Anakin moaned and wriggled again, this time rubbing his ass deliberately against Obi-Wan’s cock. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with mischief, his tone intentionally and mockingly seductive, like a star of a dirty Holovid. ”Oh, knot me, Alpha, please! Fuck me, breed me, I want it, Alpha, please!?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan rasped, his cock pulsing and leaking precome on Anakin’s soft skin, ignoring the joke. “Exactly like that. I’m going to fuck you, Anakin, fill you with come, and I want you to beg for it.”
“Oh,” Anakin gasped, his hips rocking back involuntarily, rubbing his slick entrance against the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, desperately trying to get him inside. “Oh, please.”
Obi-Wan leaned back, ignoring Anakin’s whine at the loss of contact and settling on his knees behind him. He ran his hands up and down the back of Anakin’s strong thighs, stroking the light hair and smooth skin, making him tremble, but avoiding touching where he wanted it most. He was so beautiful.
“Please,” Anakin whined, genuinely begging this time. “Master, fuck me, please. I need your knot, need your come, Alpha, please!”
“Perfect,” Obi-Wan murmured, bending down and licking some of the slick that was dripping down his leg, kissing and licking up, his tongue exploring and teasing Anakin’s wet hole. “Just like that.”
Anakin made a strangled noise, his cock leaking precome, and Obi-Wan growled at the scent of it. He bit the smooth curve of Anakin’s ass, his hands jumping to his thighs, gripping tight and holding him still, licking his entrance with more pressure.
Anakin squirmed and whined, his balls growing tight against his body, already so close to coming. His whine was so sweet and desperate. “Oh, please, Master, please!”
Obi-Wan slid one hand to Anakin’s cock in answer, and wrapped his fingers around the wet, swollen head, squeezing gently, twisting his wrist. Anakin cried out, his hips rocking back against Obi-Wan’s mouth, his come spilling hot into Obi-Wan’s hand. He immediately brought his hand to his mouth for a taste, and groaned with satisfaction.
He straightened up, placing his hand gently on Anakin’s arched back. He made a fist and pulled the fabric of his shirt tight around Anakin’s chest, making him gasp, and used it to push him down until his spine was even more deeply arched, his chest shoved into the mattress, hips rocked forward. “Stay like this, Omega.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Anakin whimpered, extending his neck to the side for Obi-Wan, who hummed in approval. He lined up the tip of his cock, pressing it gently against Anakin’s slick entrance, teasing him with the head, making him tremble. He felt so good already, so soft, hot, wet.
Anakin looked over his shoulder with pleading eyes, his pupils blown and his cheeks flushed so pink. Obi-Wan felt a surge of affection for his mate, this beautiful, maddening, perfect man beneath him, breathlessly waiting for him to fuck him raw. “Are you ready, darling? Do you want it?”
Anakin moaned and bit his lip, nodding eagerly, his desire hanging heavy in their bond, a sparkling, intoxicating fog in the Force. “Kriff, please! I need you, I love you, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan groaned at that and rocked his hips forward, pushing his cock inside. It still felt so taboo for Anakin to say that word—it still felt so forbidden.
His cock slid easily into Anakin’s tight, slick heat, and Anakin moaned in appreciation, his long eyelashes fluttering as his eyes rolled back. Obi-Wan leaned forward, his cock sliding even deeper as he bit down hard at the spot of their mating bite. They were both still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation.
Anakin whined as Obi-Wan moved first, pulling his hips back and then thrusting in, fucking him gently, experimentally, testing for discomfort. He took it so well, he always did, his Omega, so perfect, hot and wet—his Anakin, his mate.
Obi-Wan sucked on his neck and crushed him into the mattress, his cock working in slowly, so slowly, getting buried so deep. Anakin whimpered and gasped as Obi-Wan began to drive his cock inside harder and harder, fucking him deliberately and making him take it. “You’re so wet, so slick for me, aren’t you?”
Anakin moaned loudly in agreement, and Obi-Wan straightened up back onto his knees, grabbing Anakin’s hips and holding him still. He began pulling Anakin back onto his cock as he thrust forward, fucking him faster and faster, the sound of their hips slapping together filling the nest.
My Omega. Mine.
“Yes, Yours.” Anakin answered his unspoken thoughts in the Force, the intangible field between them bubbled and sparked with the words—Anakin’s voice filling Obi-Wan’s mind. “Yours, Obi-Wan, only yours, yours, Alpha, my Alpha, I love you.”
Obi-Wan growled at that, “Touch yourself, make yourself come, come on my cock. I know you can.”
“Oh,” Anakin gasped, his flesh hand jumping to squeeze the head, jerking it quickly. His mouth fell open, his eyes hazy with pleasure, Obi-Wan’s cock moving quickly, angled to press exactly where he needed it. “Oh, Force, Obi-Wan, please, Alpha, I’m…” He moaned loudly as Obi-Wan slightly adjusted the angle of his hips, fucking in again. “I’m so close.”
“Beg for it,” Obi-Wan leaned forward again, covering Anakin’s back with his chest and fucking him back down into the mattress. “Beg for my come, Omega.”
Anakin groaned, barely able to form words, letting Obi-Wan move his body where he needed and taking his cock so perfectly. “Knot me, Alpha, please, come in me, I’m yours.”
“So good for me, so good,” Obi-Wan murmured. His instincts were exultant at getting their way, possessive and intent. He pushed his desire to breed Anakin into the Force, surrounding him in it and making him understand just how much his Alpha wanted to see his flat stomach grow round and heavy for him, his Omega, his mate.
“Yes, Obi-Wan, yes, knot me, please! I love you so much,” Anakin whined, offering his neck in acceptance and rocking his hips back, insistently begging for his come in the Force. Obi-Wan groaned and bit down, fucking him harder and feeling so close to orgasm, so very close.
He moved his mouth to Anakin’s ear, running a hand through his curls and grabbing tightly, his cock thrusting deep into his hot, slick body. It felt incredible, impossible. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan whispered the words he could barely let himself even think—the only words that mattered. “I love you too, Anakin.”
Anakin inhaled sharply, and then groaned, his face tightening and his cock spilling on the sheets, their bond in the Force detonating with his pleasure.
Obi-Wan growled as he felt Anakin convulse around him, and slammed his hips forward, pushing his cock all the way inside before his own orgasm crashed over him too.
He came hard, his head curling forward as his cock pulsed and he grew thick inside Anakin’s body—making him take and keep his come, filling him up. Pleasure and satisfaction made him feel lightheaded, sparks appearing in his vision before he blinked them away.
Anakin whimpered and shared his overwhelming sense of joy in the Force, and Obi-Wan tried to catch his breath, kissing the nape of his neck and rolling them on their side—gathering him close.
For a moment there was quiet in the cozy nest, except for the sound of their heavy breathing, then Anakin shook his head, slightly disbelieving, “You’ve never said that before.”
Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt. “In so many words, no.” He shifted his arm under Anakin’s head, letting him snuggle in closer and kissing his neck. “I hope I say it every day in different ways.”
“You do,” Anakin patted his arm loosely, sounding almost drunk. He adjusted his hips, rocking on Obi-Wan’s knot and they both groaned. He did it again, intentionally, and Obi-Wan bit down hard on his neck to hold him still. Anakin shuddered, going limp, speaking softly. “I know you do. I just liked hearing it, that’s all.”
Obi-Wan sighed, teeth leaving Anakin’s neck. He kissed the bitten spot gently in apology before pulling his head back. “I do love you very much, Anakin. I will try to tell you more.”
“Thank you, Master, but…” Anakin pushed his unconditional acceptance at him in the Force. “You don’t have to. I know it’s hard.”
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan whispered, hugging him tight. “I will still try for you, if you like it.”
Anakin nodded, exhausted, and they lay together in comfortable silence, time slipping past without much awareness. Anakin was surrounded by Obi-Wan’s arms, washed in his scent, filled with his come. Maybe already carrying his child.
Obi-Wan felt a sense of peace so powerful it was like spice or some other drug, making him loose and content. He began to soften, and soon enough he grew uncomfortable and pulled his cock out of Anakin, looking dreamily at the shine of the slick and come that followed.
He grabbed a half-full tube of bacta tucked in the corner and rolled Anakin onto his stomach, smoothing the thick healing gel around and inside him, gently and thoroughly coating the pink muscle and sensitive skin of his entrance. The medicinal smell of the bacta was almost beginning to make Obi-Wan’s cock hard through repeated associations with this activity—gently fingering his mate, pushing his come back inside.
It was a perfect moment, quiet and intimate, Anakin had gone completely boneless and relaxed, radiating satisfaction beneath him, humming absently. His heat was tolerable for the moment, relaxed and comfortable.
The Force suddenly fluxed, and everything was wrong, all at once.
Anakin made a wounded sound, his head jerking up. He pulled away and sat up, making worried eye contact with Obi-Wan. “What’s happening?”
“Your bad feeling,” Obi-Wan said, bleakly. He reached out with the Force, and recoiled as if struck. “It’s the Jedi. I don’t understand…”
Anakin collapsed forward, resting his forehead against Obi-Wan’s shoulder and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “They’re… dying.”
“They are.” Obi-Wan felt sick and cold, the Force singing out around them with confused agony before falling more and more silent. Lights were going out.
Anakin whined in discomfort, his voice shaky and his cheeks far too pale. “Why, though? How?”
“I don’t know, Padawan.” Obi-Wan exhaled hard, feeling unsteady. “I simply don’t know.”
It was quiet between them, both paralyzed by the enormity of it, the horror of it. Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to get his lightsaber out of the box cached under the bed, and at least hold it in his hand. It felt wrong to be unarmed when the entire galaxy was screaming at him of danger, danger, death, death.
After an eternity, or a minute, Obi-Wan asked tentatively, “Can you feel Ahsoka?”
“No,” Anakin whispered, eyes down. “But that’s not unusual. We’re too far away, that’s all.”
Obi-Wan nodded, hoping that was true with all of his being. He tried to sound certain. “She’ll contact us.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Anakin looked up, his eyes wide. He was getting closer and closer to tears, his scent so impossibly distressed, and it made Obi-Wan’s heart ache. “What do you think is happening, Master?”
“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan reached a hand out and grabbed Anakin by the back of the neck, pulling him closer into his lap and wrapping his other arm around his back, holding him tight. He spoke against his hair, voice low and intent. “But I promise we will find out, Padawan.”
“You promise?” Anakin’s voice was weak, overwhelmed, going limp against his chest.
“Yes, Anakin.” Obi-Wan held him close, swallowing down all doubt. He looked for and found a deep well of resolve inside, and let it shade into his voice. “I promise.”