The city of Harnaidan had more than fifty million inhabitants, according to the briefing. It was the largest city on Muunilinst and the headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, as well as the planet's capital.
Fifty million people.
Obi-Wan looked out over the sweeping vista of destruction that his army had created, and crossed his arms across his chest, jaw tight and posture stiff. At his command, the Republic’s heavy artillery had blasted away at the sea of elegant, lofty buildings in order to annihilate Separatist forward positions, toppling some spires that were almost four kilometers in height.
It had not been whimsy that had led him to lead this invasion, he reminded himself. It had been necessity, and it had been on orders of the Supreme Chancellor himself. The IG Banking Clan was a core member of the Separatist war machine, and had been building huge droid armies and massive war ships on Muunilinst.
It had been the choice of the leadership of the Banking Clan to hide among so many civilians. Obi-Wan had done his best to cut off the head of the snake without damaging the body too much, but still—looking out at all the smoldering wreckage, reaching toward the horizon, it seemed that the city had been almost leveled by their artillery.
For a Jedi like himself, ready and willing to die in defense of civilization and sentient life, it felt so deeply, viscerally wrong to lead an army to create such devastation. His forces had won the day—the Banking Clan had surrendered, and their droid factories would be shut down—but at what cost?
His gloves creaked as he clenched his fists, and his chest felt impossibly tight. It was the undercity and the lower classes that had suffered the most, as usual. Unable to leave, the poor had been forced to shelter in place. The infrastructure had crumbled around them, despite all efforts at only hitting military targets.
He had seen preliminary casualty figures, and they would have made him feel even more sick if he were currently capable of feeling much of anything other than exhaustion and rankling anxiety about his blasted, missing Padawan. Where was Anakin? Was he even still alive?
Obi-Wan took a long inhale through his nose, and instantly regretted it. The smell of smoke was thick and acrid, burning his lungs. A gust of wind blew his long hair back from his face and ash into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, and turned away from the edge of the roof, returning to the command center.
It had been a mixed blessing to have a moment to himself to catch his breath. In some ways, Obi-Wan understood Anakin’s love of combat, how it swept you up and carried you along, with all extraneous cares and doubt pushed aside. He had been running and fighting all day, defeating Dooku’s seemingly-unkillable lieutenant Durge in combat multiple times.
His footfalls were heavy on the ground now; fighting in armor was just tiring. The extra weight and the constraints on his range of motion were something for which he had, in the beginning, constantly been forced to adjust his jumps and rolls to compensate for. He was mostly used to it now, thankfully, but it still left him fatigued.
Every day he was tempted to just set it all aside and fight without. That was the way he’d been trained to fight since he’d been young, but of course being a general and leading large-scale ground assaults with a clone army at his back was something different than anything he’d ever been trained to expect too.
He returned his focus to his breath, keeping it steady and slow. The adrenaline from the day was still tingling in his limbs, making his palms sweat and heart pound. It was no real surprise to have a fluttering, empty feeling in his stomach; how could it possibly be when his Padawan, his responsibility, was missing?
Anakin had disobeyed a direct order and abandoned his men in space, all because he’d been baited into following an enemy fighter like a youngling. He’d pretended that his comlink was breaking up and turned it off when Obi-Wan ordered him back to his post, like it was all a game. He’d jumped into hyperspace, alone, with no backup, no knowledge of where he was headed and what lay in wait.
Obi-Wan had been livid then, and was livid now. He was doing his best to push through the unhelpful emotion, but found it extremely difficult. He knew there were times when disobeying orders could be appropriate—Qui-Gon had taught him that—but 'while in command during a planetary invasion' was emphatically not one of them.
Anakin had clearly not been ready to lead their forces in space, and Obi-Wan had known it. He had made his opinion clear from the outset, but it hadn’t mattered. What the Chancellor ordered was how things would be. Would he ever see his Padawan again? Would he feel in the Force if he died somewhere across the galaxy?
No matter how fraught their relationship had become in the last few years, and how tense it had been since Geonosis, Anakin was still his Padawan. Just because he’d begun winning in their sparring just as much as losing, cunning and competent warrior that he was, he’d become so very certain that he was ready to become a Knight.
As if capacity for violence were the only criterion.
Obi-Wan looked at the sky and sighed, swallowing down his frustration. Anakin’s arrogance was staggering, his brittle pride more than occasionally insufferable to deal with. Any praise made him puff up and preen, and any criticism, no matter how justified, made him sulky and defensive. He had not developed the ability to think ahead, or restrain his impulses at all.
Obi-Wan wanted to strangle him with depressing frequency for a Jedi trained since birth in equanimity and acceptance. Anakin seemed to take pleasure in pushing him, indifferent to his instruction—wilful and reckless and missing.
“Anything?” Obi-Wan asked Captain Fordo, coming to stand near the ARC trooper near a large holomap of the city.
“Nothing, sir,” Fordo replied immediately. “Both ships’ beacons have been destroyed. We have no way of reestablishing coms.”
“Very well,” Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his beard and pushing down a burning swell of frustration. He’d sent a squad of men to follow Anakin, and now they were out of contact too. He had a bad feeling about this. “Thank you for the attempt.”
The clone gave him a sideways look that Obi-Wan could feel through the faceplate of his helmet. “Yes, General.”
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to give new orders, but was interrupted by an unfamiliar trooper. “General Kenobi, a ship is approaching that matches the one Commander Skywalker followed into hyperspace.”
Obi-Wan looked up at the sky, reaching out with his feelings. Could it be…?
Fordo stood at his shoulder. “I have batteries standing by.”
Obi-Wan exhaled hard as he felt the supernova in the Force that was Anakin. “Hold your fire, Captain.”
He watched as an almost delicate looking fanblade starfighter made some (in his opinion, highly unnecessary) flourishes as it came down to land in a nearby square. The ship had a red circular cockpit that folded up, revealing Anakin in the pilot’s seat. Even from his distance, Obi-Wan could tell that he looked filthy and disheveled, but felt uninjured in the Force. Thank the stars for that, at least.
Anakin’s expression was defiant as he leapt down from the ship and approached the command center, his back ramrod straight. He had that familiar, infuriating look on his face, as if he were daring Obi-Wan to deliver the lecture that he knew was coming and didn’t think that he deserved.
Already so insufferably arrogant that it made Obi-Wan grind his teeth. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Anakin approach, his expression flat and unwelcoming.
Anakin’s clothes had been almost shredded, and he’d somehow lost his tunic, but kept his tabards. His pants had massive gashes that showed flashes of his golden thighs as he walked. His brassy hair was dark with sweat and his face covered with dirt. His messy Padawan braid wrapped around his neck and clung to the skin. The only parts of him that weren’t ripped and stained were his boots.
Where the kriff had he been?
He stopped several paces in front of Obi-Wan and stood at attention. Silence extended between them for a long moment before Anakin bowed his head forward slightly and said with something approaching contrition, “I’m sorry, Master.”
Obi-Wan waited for more, still as a statue, expression giving nothing away. It had not escaped his notice that none of the troopers had made it back. Was that a result of their ship being destroyed? Or had they all died?
Anakin swallowed and looked at the ground. “You were right, Master. It was a trap laid out by the Sith, and I ran headlong into it.” He grimaced, a shadow of guilt flaring in the Force before his spine straightened, his chin rising with pride, his expression defiant. “But I emerged victorious!”
“Indeed.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed at his self-aggrandizement. “But that battle should never have been fought, Anakin.”
Anakin immediately looked sullen, almost pouting at his Master’s refusal to recognize his achievement in evading death in the obvious and avoidable trap laid out by the Sith.
Obi-Wan kept his voice level, but it was difficult to press down his urge to yell. “I find the Sith’s interest in you most troublesome. This is precisely why you must follow my orders, young one, another defiance could lead us into a—”
Shrill beeping interrupted him, an urgent flash on his wrist from his comlink. He raised it up to see a cloaked human Jedi, lightsaber ignited and flashing, desperately deflecting blaster bolts, voice frantic. “General Kenobi! General Kenobi!”
Obi-Wan’s eyes were sharp, taking in as many details as he could. “Yes, Master Barrek?”
“Need immediate evac from planet Hypori. Our forces are totally destroyed. Only…” Master Barrek began to run, looking back over his shoulder with concern. The holo was flickering in and out, the blue figure wavy and unstable. “Only a few of us left. New droid general. He’s unstoppable! Can’t hold out for long. General Grievous is hunting us.”
Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged a look full of concern, their argument rendered temporarily unimportant. Their eyes turned back to the holo as Master Barrek shouted with alarm, and then disappeared. Obi-Wan felt a very powerful swell of impotence, not helped by the certainty in the Force that Anakin felt the same.
They were so many hours away. They couldn’t help in time.
“Master Barrek, come in!" Obi-Wan's voice was clipped. "Master Barrek!”
The connection dropped entirely, with Barrek’s comlink deactivated or destroyed. Probably the latter. Obi-Wan stared at the place where his figure had been, thoughts churned up into a flurry of grief and consideration. He was well aware of the deployment of Jedi in nearby sectors—Masters Shaak Ti, Aayla Secura and Ki-Adi-Mundi were all on Hypori, as well as Master Barrek, and they were all in danger.
He exhaled hard and dropped his wrist, looking to Fordo. “Prep as many destroyers as can be spared for immediate departure.”
“Yes, General!” Fordo saluted and turned away, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone.
Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin and felt an almost painful spike of frustration at the sight of so much petulance and dirt. He’d been fighting in space. There was no justification for being so dirty. No justification for abandoning his post. No justification for—
“Master?” Anakin asked, cocking his head to the side. “What now?”
Obi-Wan blinked and refocused, pacing quickly out of the command center and across the square toward a transport. Anakin trotted beside him, thankfully quiet as they walked. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he had the capacity to deal with Anakin’s education at the moment. He could still feel Anakin’s bubbling resentment and pride, but there was no point in chastising him, scolding him like a child.
He never listened. He never learned. It was wasted breath, wasted time. What was the point?
Obi-Wan was so tired—tired of failing, tired of war. He wanted to be alone, sitting in a dark, cool cave in a forest on a remote planet that wasn’t charted by the Republic; somewhere no one would find him and he’d have a moment to regain his sense of solid ground.
Somewhere where Anakin wouldn’t be his kriffing problem, just for a day.
As it was, he always felt like he was standing on shifting sand, both with Anakin and as a Jedi. His grasp on the Force when not in combat was less than clear and calm, muddied by the concerns of commanding an army and managing an impossibly willful and arrogant Padawan. He had no idea how to fix his attitude; he never had.
“Master?”
Obi-Wan said nothing, he wasn’t capable of it. He stepped up into the LAAT/i, and grabbed the rail, nodding to the trooper to take off. Anakin grabbed on too, and they left the surface, streaking up into the sky. Obi-Wan’s eyes were pulled back to the smoking, ruined city below, his gut twisting in one final flare of guilt before he looked away.
Anakin caught his eyes and raised his voice against the wind. “Master?”
“What, Anakin?”
“The troopers…” His face was pale beneath the dirt. “There was a woman. A Sith. I killed her.”
“But she killed the men?”
“Yes,” Anakin confirmed, jerking his head in a nod.
Obi-Wan frowned, waiting until they flew into the hangar to respond. He had no desire to continue to yell, or perhaps he had a great desire to, and therefore needed to avoid doing so. If he lost his cool, he didn’t know if he would easily find it again. Not after the day he’d had.
Boots on the deck of his ship, he finally trusted himself to speak. “As Jedi, our mistakes can cost lives, Padawan. Your mistakes today certainly did, though I hardly consider disregarding orders and running off like a youngling to be a simple mistake. I warned you that you are not mature enough to handle this level of responsibility, and again you proved me right.”
Anakin’s jaw dropped, brow furrowing—readying himself to talk back. Obi-Wan glared at him, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare say that I should have let you fly off to your death alone. Don’t you dare.”
Anakin bristled, but looked away. “Yes, Master.”
Obi-Wan nodded once, and sped up down the hallway, heading for the long-range coms room off the bridge. “We are going to report to the Council.”
“Now?” Anakin looked down at himself, alarmed. “Like this?”
“The Council does not particularly care how you are dressed, Padawan. We need updated orders. I need to know what to do with you before we leave orbit.”
“What to do with me?”
Obi-Wan shrugged, intentionally casual as he nodded to a passing line of troopers. “If the Council agrees with me, you'll need to transfer ships before we jump. We don't have much time."
"Why would I have to transfer?" Anakin asked, sounding wary. Good.
"I’m considering sending you back to Coruscant with the detained members of the Banking Clan.”
“Back to Coruscant?” Anakin gasped, appalled, tripping over his feet to keep pace. “No, Master! You can’t—”
“I can’t?” Obi-Wan snapped, nostrils flaring and hands clenching into fists. He shot Anakin a dirty look. "I believe you will find that I can and will." He pushed his emotion into his walk, speeding up and moving away, trusting that Anakin would follow after, which he did.
"But you can't!"
Obi-Wan kept himself from yelling by turning his words to ice—low, intent, and cold. “I can’t what, Anakin? Teach you? I am increasingly aware of how little you have managed to learn over the last decade of my life that I’ve dedicated to making you into a Jedi Knight.”
“But—” Anakin grabbed at his arm, attempting to slow him down, and Obi-Wan snarled, yanking the arm out of his grip and pushing him back hard.
Anakin’s eyes were wide with horror, and his mouth fell open to protest. Obi-Wan pushed him again, feeling out of control. Anakin's back hit the wall with an audible thump, the empty hallway almost echoing with it and the sound of their heavy breathing.
Obi-Wan crowded him in, his pulse pounding in his ears, vision tunneling until all he saw was Anakin’s dirty face and messy braid. His words came out fast and fervent. “I am so very, exceptionally tired of feeling as though I have failed you, Anakin, and that I haven’t been good enough as a Master. This is not my fault. You are twenty years old, not ten, not twelve, not fifteen. You are failing yourself, and there’s nothing I can do about it! At some point you must take responsibility for your actions, Commander.”
The last word made Anakin’s face twist as though struck. “Master—”
“No,” Obi-Wan cut him off. “Be quiet. I have absolutely no idea what to do with you. Time in the Temple is the only thing I can think that—”
“Master,” Anakin begged, his lip quivering, eyes so wide and blue. “Don’t send me away.”
“You must have consequences,” Obi-Wan spat at him. “I don’t seem to be able to check your behavior and curb your arrogance on my own. Nothing I do makes any sort of impact. You don’t listen to me! You don’t heed me! I am your Master, your commanding officer, and you ignore me like this is a game! War is not a game!”
“I know! I know, Master, I didn’t mean it! I was just trying—” Anakin blinked rapidly, searching for words and shifting his weight. Obi-Wan realized that his gloved hands were still shoving Anakin’s mostly bare shoulders into the cool metal of the wall. He pushed harder, and Anakin made a noise like he’d been punched. “I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again. I promise!”
“I do not believe you,” Obi-Wan growled, almost nose to nose with him, staring deep into his eyes, trying to make him understand. “I do not trust you. You are reckless, thoughtless, and completely unfit for command!”
“Master,” Anakin said, sounding almost broken. “She killed Blue Squadron in seconds, I had to stop her, I thought that was my responsibility, I thought—”
Obi-Wan slid a hand from his shoulder to grab Anakin’s Padawan braid, wrapping it around his fist and pulling it tight. Anakin whined, and stopped talking. Obi-Wan tugged again sharply. “Stop making excuses! The moment she jumped to hyperspace your responsibility was discharged. Following her was indefensible. You know that. She baited you, and you fell for it, disobeying my orders! Your place was at your post!”
Anakin’s bottom lip stuck out noticeably, his eyes shining and wet. “But the battle in space was finished. I thought—” Obi-Wan pulled again, even harder, and he whimpered. “I thought it would be alright.”
“I specifically ordered you not to go. You pretended to lose contact, and then went dark, jumping to an unknown part of the galaxy to face unknown dangers alone! You could have been surrounded by an entire Separatist fleet! You’re lucky that you weren’t! How could you possibly think that would be alright?”
Anakin slumped in his hold, and Obi-Wan had a strong jolt of self-awareness, reaching out with the Force instinctively to make sure they were alone. He sensed troopers approaching, and looked around for a private place to continue. Noticing a door, he focused and opened it with the Force, pulling Anakin by the braid and then pushing him inside.
“What?” Anakin stumbled, trying to stay upright as he was moved out of the hallway. He looked around the small supply closet and back at Obi-Wan. “Why?”
“The men shouldn’t see this,” Obi-Wan said, sliding the door closed behind them. He was suddenly aware of how small the closet was, and how close he was to Anakin’s rapidly rising and falling chest—so much of his bare skin exposed while Obi-Wan was still in full armor. The faint light strips on the wall made everything appear in shades of grey, Anakin’s golden skin leeched of color in the shadows. “I will not let them know that their Commander is completely unfit.”
“That’s not…” Anakin looked at him imploringly. “I’m not. I’ll do better. Don’t send me back, Master, please!”
“Do you think I should just let this go?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously, glaring at him. Their voices seemed very loud in the small space. “Do you think I should allow this behavior to continue unchecked? You’ve put me in an impossible situation! What exactly do you think I should do, Anakin? Do you have any consequences in mind that might actually work?”
Anakin’s cheeks unexpectedly darkened, his breathing hitched. “N-no.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in surprise and stepped closer. “I think you actually might. Care to share?”
“I…” Anakin shook his head rapidly, backing up a step, his panic bubbling in the Force. “I can’t!”
“Why not?” Obi-Wan studied him closely, instinctively continuing to move forward into Anakin’s personal space, seeking the truth. “I am desperately curious to know what you think you deserve.”
Anakin’s face flushed even darker, and he evaded Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Obi-Wan watched almost absently as his hand reached up and regained its hold on Anakin’s braid, tugging it tight, preventing his retreat.
Anakin whimpered, eyelashes fluttering as Obi-Wan pulled his hair. “It’s nothing. I don’t know.”
“So you agree to go to Coruscant? Should I ask the Council to recall you?”
Anakin’s desperation spiked in the Force. “No!”
Obi-Wan growled, pushing him several steps backward until his back met the wall with another quiet thump, holding him in place. “Then tell me what I am supposed to do, Anakin! What am I supposed to do?!”
“Hit me!” The words fell from Anakin’s lips, and then he gasped and cringed, eyes wide with horror. “I mean—”
“What?” Obi-Wan blinked and froze, his jaw dropping slightly in shock, trying to understand.
“I…” Anakin whined, looking down at the floor in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say—”
“You want me, your Master, a Jedi Knight, to give you corporal punishment?”
“Sorry!” Anakin cringed again. “I know you won’t. You wouldn’t.”
The closet was very quiet as Obi-Wan processed what he’d been told, or tried to. His mind was moving too fast—it was so hard to think clearly with his pulse pounding in his ears and his hands almost shaking with frustration.
He couldn’t pretend he’d never wanted to turn Anakin over his knee for his attitude, especially in the last few months since Geonosis. It had certainly been satisfying to imagine, but it was a possibility he’d never considered with any real seriousness—so sure that Anakin would never, ever stand for it.
Apparently not.
Obi-Wan shook his head and huffed a laugh without much true humor. “You seem very sure that I wouldn’t.”
“What?” Anakin’s eyes widened, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the explosion of emotion radiating from him in the Force at his words. “You’d—”
“I would never strike a child,” Obi-Wan said almost conversationally, and then tugged sharply on Anakin’s braid. “Are you a child, Commander?”
“N-no,” Anakin whispered, licking his lips and squirming under Obi-Wan’s hands. “I’m not.”
“Then why do you persist in behaving like one?”
“I didn’t think—”
“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, a faint hint of mockery in his voice. “Exactly right. Well done, Padawan. You are indeed thoughtless, as well as selfish, and irresponsible.”
“I know,” Anakin whined, his hips rocking slightly. “It just happens. I can’t remember to stop.”
“Can’t remember,” Obi-Wan echoed back with a condescending smile. “Do you need pain to make memories, Anakin? If it hurts enough, will you remember to follow orders? Remember to obey your Master?”
Anakin said nothing, eyes pleading, the Force trembling with invitation, and Obi-Wan felt such an overwhelming, consuming desire to put him in his place. He was flushed with burning heat at the idea of actually dispensing real consequences in such a concrete, immediate, and viscerally satisfying way. He looked Anakin up and down, noticing how he gasped and twitched under his observation.
“Very well,” Obi-Wan said, voice rougher than he’d expected. He used his hold on Anakin’s braid to spin him around, pushing him back up against the wall and forcing his cheek against the cool metal. He spoke directly into his ear, voice low. “I will give you this. I will give you what you need, but if you persist in defiance after this, I will send you back to the Temple and never ask for your return. This is your last chance, Anakin.”
“Yes, Master,” Anakin whispered, eyes wide with disbelief that it was actually happening. “I won’t, you’ll see. I promise you’ll see.”
“I’d better,” Obi-Wan agreed, pulling back. He moved his hands down to Anakin’s narrow waist, shoving aside his tabards and yanking down his pants. Anakin's cock bounced slightly when freed, his arousal at Obi-Wan’s rough treatment increasingly obvious. Obi-Wan ignored it, focusing instead on the curve of his ass. He stroked the soft, pale skin gently, making Anakin whine, the Force almost incandescent with his need.
“Please,” Anakin begged, his hips pushing back, seeking Obi-Wan’s hand. “I need it, please—”
Obi-Wan brought his gloved hand down hard on his ass with a loud thwack, making Anakin choke and stop talking. Obi-Wan hummed with dissatisfaction, and pulled off his glove, striking him again in the same place, more pleased by the sharp crack of his bare hand on Anakin’s skin.
“Oh, Master,” Anakin gasped, hips jerking, and Obi-Wan slapped the other cheek, even harder. “Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me,” Obi-Wan leaned forward again, murmuring into his ear, holding him still and smacking him again. “Apologize to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Anakin said immediately and then whined at another hard slap. “Master, I’m so sorry."
Obi-Wan only hit harder, voice intent. "Why, Anakin? Why are you sorry?"
Anakin groaned. "I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have gone.”
Obi-Wan hummed skeptically, speeding up his hand. “Will it happen again?”
“No,” Anakin sniffed loudly, his voice unsteady. “I promise, no.”
The small closet was filled with the sound of Obi-Wan’s hand meeting Anakin’s ass, over and over, each sharp smack punctuated by Anakin’s gasps and whines. Obi-Wan had to hold him still by the hip to keep him from squirming, forcing him to remain still and take his punishment. His hand was growing numb, but it didn't matter.
Anakin seemed overwhelmed with emotion, a writhing mess beneath Obi-Wan's hands. He kept trying to part his legs and rock his hips back, the tip of his cock was shining with beads of precome and looked almost painfully erect. His cheeks were dark, the flush reaching down to his chest. His eyes were shining, his lips parted and wet.
He was so beautiful, so eager, so kriffing irritating.
Obi-Wan smacked him harder, and Anakin moaned loudly. Obi-Wan remembered where they were, and snapped, “Be silent.”
“Yes, Master,” Anakin whimpered, and Obi-Wan struck him again.
“Is that silent?”
Anakin shook his head, and Obi-Wan gently petted the spot he’d struck. There was an outline of his hand in the skin of Anakin’s ass, and it was so very satisfying to see. He slapped it again, and Anakin bit his lip, swallowing a moan, remaining quiet.
Obi-Wan murmured with approval, “Very good, Anakin. Well done.”
Anakin gasped, and his eyes widened, hips rocking sharply. Obi-Wan could feel in the Force that he’d almost come at being unexpectedly praised.
“Have you learned your lesson, young one?” Obi-Wan continued, in the same low voice. “Did that hurt enough to remember?” Anakin nodded, looking at him imploringly. “Oh, you are being such a good boy for me, aren’t you, Padawan, staying quiet just like I told you to.” Anakin’s eyes rolled back, and he bit his lip, looking almost pained. “Do you want to come?”
Anakin nodded again quickly, his cheek rubbing against the wall as he rocked his hips back. Obi-Wan hummed with deliberation. “You were so extraordinarily naughty today, I really shouldn’t let you. That should be your real punishment.” Anakin’s eyes opened wide, and he looked stricken. Obi-Wan smiled at him gently. “You don’t deserve to come.”
Anakin opened and closed his mouth, and then nodded, his eyes filling with tears.
Obi-Wan stroked the skin of his ass again, lightly tracing his fingers over the marks left by his hand. “You're very lucky that I’ve never been able to give you what you actually deserve.”
The Force trembled with confusion, Anakin’s wet eyes shining with need and hope. He was being so very quiet. Obi-Wan slid his hand around and grasped Anakin’s cock, smirking at how very hard it was, how wet, how flushed. He rubbed his palm on the head, gathering precome before wrapping his fingers around and sliding them up and down the length.
It took approximately five seconds for Anakin to come, spilling into Obi-Wan’s hand, his legs trembling and breath catching, eyes rolling back. He was so beautiful, his beautiful disaster of a Padawan. Obi-Wan used one of Anakin’s already filthy tabards to wipe himself clean, and stepped back, feeling slightly winded. His own cock throbbed painfully, reminding him of its existence.
Anakin looked at him over his shoulder, eyes hazy with pleasure. “Master, can I please make you feel good?”
“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shook his head, speaking both to Anakin and to his own cock. “I’m in full armor, and I cannot possibly come right now. I don’t need to, anyway. This wasn’t about me.”
Anakin nodded again reluctantly, heaving a sigh and slumping against the wall. Obi-Wan smiled, feeling a swell of irrepressible fondness, and pulled up his pants for him, buttoning him back up with care. “I suppose we do actually have time to change before speaking with the Council.”
“Oh, good,” Anakin smiled, his white teeth flashing in a grin that filled Obi-Wan with a strange sense of peace. “I really hadn’t wanted to look like this.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan said quietly, opening up the door. “Come on.”
Anakin nodded and stood up, looking slightly unsteady. Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt. “I… I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m not really myself. Hundreds… they think hundreds of thousands of civilians died today. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you so much.”
“It’s alright, Master. Obviously I liked it.” Anakin ducked his head slightly, face still pink. “And I did deserve it.”
“You did,” Obi-Wan agreed easily.
They fell into step together, walking past more troopers rushing to prepare the ship to jump into hyperspace. Obi-Wan felt the mantle of command settle back on his shoulders, and accepted it with resigned fortitude. He tried to push thoughts of what was happening on Hypori out of his mind, as there was no point in rumination. They would be there as fast as they could, to do all they could.
It was all that they could do.
Anakin brushed against his arm, sending him a wave of reassurance in the Force. Obi-Wan smiled at him slightly, feeling more comforted than he could ever really articulate. His reckless, irritating, beautiful Padawan was safe and alive. That, at least, was something positive.