Temporary Like Achilles

Obi-Wan’s starfighter had been shot down by the Separatists in a dogfight over Dathomir, and he had not made contact since. Unacceptable. 

Anakin and the 501st had arrived late to the battle, missed the action, and then the first thing he heard was that Obi-Wan was missing. He pivoted on the spot and went back to the hangar, leaving Ahsoka in charge of the fleet for cleanup.

He ignored everyone’s significant looks as he got in the Twilight, intently tracking Obi-Wan’s ship to the surface of the planet. The size of the impact crater made Anakin desperately hope that Obi-Wan had ejected on the way down.

He would have felt if Obi-Wan died. Obi-Wan was still alive. He had to find him.

He landed carefully next to the crashed remains of the fighter, and reached out with the Force into the dark forest. It was night, and the moonlight was weak. He could sense that Dathomir’s low-lying swamps were teeming with predatory life; the Force was alive with the struggle for survival. Anakin focused harder, trying to push through the noise, and growled with frustration when he found nothing.

Obi-Wan had to be nearby. Was he unconscious? The kriffing bond had gotten so weak—he should be able to tell!

He took a moment to breathe; he had to center himself in the living Force, find balance within and without, and not let his instincts drive him too much. It was often a struggle, no matter his suppressants, to stay in control. The war did not help anything.

Anakin’s caretaking, omega nature was still driving him insane with the need to help his pack, find his alpha, and restore proper order to the galaxy. He liked being under the umbrella of Obi-Wan’s concern more than anything, needed it more than anything, missed it more than anything. 

He made a low, sad, whimpering sound that he was very grateful nobody else was around to hear, and tried again to find his Master. He needed his alpha, more than he was allowed to need him, more than Obi-Wan knew.

He was sure that on some level Obi-Wan did know that he was Anakin’s alpha, but Anakin understood why he couldn't claim him—why he wouldn’t. As Obi-Wan said a thousand times: we’re Jedi, not slaves to our biology.

It had been the unspoken source of most of their recent conflict, the real reason they’d drifted apart after being very close friends when Anakin was younger. It hurt so much that their designations had come between them—Obi-Wan had pulled back from him after he presented, becoming remote and unavailable, locking himself down, and refusing to indulge Anakin’s omega instincts beyond seeking assistance from healers whenever he had symptoms.

If it was bad for Anakin then, pining from up close, it was worse now, pining from afar. He’d been Knighted and ordered to take on missions on the other side of the galaxy from his alpha. It was difficult to let their training bond decay with distance and time, as Anakin grew more and more alienated from one of the only people at the Temple he truly cared for.

Jedi don’t have pack, Anakin. Those are your human instincts. 

He viscerally missed the scent of Obi-Wan, the reassuring calm that he felt when Obi-Wan was in the room, and the warmth of the love he felt for his alpha. He missed the sparkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes when he had an idea, and the insufferable, cocky grin he sometimes got if the situation was stressful enough. War was certainly stressful.

In the beginning, Padmé fucking Anakin on Naboo after Geonosis had definitely helped him cope, but then they spent so little time together, and it’s not as if they could mate. If she’d marked him, completely and publicly possessing him, it would be the end of his career as a Jedi. She was willing to help him through his heats, and always willing to meet when they were in the same sector—but she wasn’t his alpha. She never could have been. 

Obi-Wan already held that spot in his heart. Even if he didn’t actually want it.

He’d never wanted it. 

Anakin remembered vividly the expression on Obi-Wan’s face a few years previously when he returned to his apartment to find a confused and feverish 17-year-old Anakin nesting in his bedroom; Anakin had felt a crushing imperative to snuggle under all the blankets he could find that smelled right, which all happened to be in Obi-Wan’s room, and had only just finished making his nest perfect when his alpha came back—and panicked.

The Force was full of Obi-Wan’s shock, with an added mix of horror, fear, or disgust, something painful. 

Anakin had been, under a great deal of protest, summarily moved from that first nest to one of the heat rooms in the Halls of Healing. He had been allowed to take some of the blankets, but it was nowhere near the same. Leaving the ambient scent of his alpha had felt like something deep inside was ripping in half—the heat rooms were too kriffing scent neutral.

Obi-Wan’s apartments smelled like him in a way that he couldn’t mask with blockers. It was a rich and intimate mix of pheromones, sweat, and skin, a heady alpha scent pervading and marking his space; to Anakin, it was intoxicating—smokey, warm, and soft. There were traces of the leather of his boots and his belt, the tea on his breath, and the sweet oil he used in his beard. 

Anakin wanted to rub his cheek against Obi-Wan’s beard very badly, and he wanted to taste the tea in Obi-Wan’s mouth. He wanted to kneel and help his Master take off his boots, his belt, open his pants, suck his cock—anything to make his alpha comfortable. 

Obi-Wan had a stern talk with him after the nesting episode, explaining that he had decided not to give Anakin away to another Master, but there were going to be new rules: mandatory use of high potency suppressants and blockers, increased distancing, private sparring was canceled, the list went on and on. He explained that it was all standard procedure and for Anakin’s protection. He reassured him that he was experienced at handling his designation without it impacting his behavior.

To Anakin’s disgust, it was actually true. Obi-Wan never let his instincts show at all. He was perfectly contained. His scent was almost invisible under the blockers. The only problem was the way that he moved. There was no way to disguise the predatory confidence of his walk sometimes—he seemed to take up much more space than he actually did. His charisma and the control that he exuded was pure alpha, and he wasn’t even aware of it. 

Anakin followed all the rules, just happy to not lose Obi-Wan as his Master. He did the additional meditation training with Temple secondary gender specialists. He wore the blockers, and took the suppressants. He practiced walking like Obi-Wan and speaking like him, trying to mask the fact that he was an omega whenever possible.

It always attracted the wrong kind of attention, and failed to attract the only right kind that he wanted—so what was even the point of his scent, if Obi-Wan didn’t crave it the way he craved his?

Anakin perked up with excitement as Obi-Wan’s mind reappeared suddenly in the Force, as if he’d been jerked into consciousness with a bucket of water to the face. His Force signature was strange and hazy, but present, and Anakin scrambled in the direction that the bond led him. He made his way up through the labyrinthine swamp, clinging to the whisper of Obi-Wan’s consciousness and demanding it stay with him.

Obi-Wan gave no indication that he was aware of Anakin’s presence at all. Something was wrong with him, and Anakin didn’t know what.

Eventually Anakin sensed that he was drawing near a Nightsister village, and felt a swoop of dread. He knew how the Nightsisters treated men; they despised them as lesser, weaker, servile malelings. They would work them to death, or use them to breed and then kill them. They had Obi-Wan. If they tried to breed with him—

A flush of red hot anger made Anakin move faster, surveying the layout of the small village and identifying the place where Obi-Wan was being held. Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force was losing coherence, and Anakin swallowed down a swell of panic. He moved with light feet through the forest on the fringe of the village, circling around. There!

Obi-Wan was tied to a large tree in a walled garden, which was attached to a building that looked to be some kind of temple to a winged goddess. His eyes were open, but unseeing. His face was flushed red, his hair and clothes disheveled, but at least he was still dressed. There was a group of three Nightsisters standing around him, and one was holding a goblet that emitted a light green mist. 

Anakin could smell him. 

He was so far away—what had the Nightsisters done to him?

The Nightsister with the goblet approached and Obi-Wan just blinked at her vacantly, slumped in the ropes holding him up against the tree. Anakin had had enough—his lightsaber slapped into his palm and he attacked. The Nightsisters fought back, but surprise gave Anakin the advantage. It was quiet, brutal, and fast, his lightsaber reflecting back the plasma darts from their energy bows.

He left one alive, and held the lightsaber to her neck, baring his teeth and growling. “What did you do to him?”

“Pathetic little Jedi,” the Nightsister laughed at him weakly, her eyes filled with disdain. “The ritual was not closed. You’ve killed him in your quest to save him.”

“What?” Anakin asked, and then the Nightsister drew in a deep breath as if to call for help, and Anakin stabbed her instead, choosing silence over information.

His attention immediately snapped up to the tree, and the overwhelming scent of alpha that was coming from Obi-Wan. It was making Anakin feel dizzy and weak, but he still hastened forward. He cut the ropes with a quick slash of his lightsaber, and caught Obi-Wan as he slumped forward into his arms. 

“Master?” Anakin asked, suddenly breathless. He was overwhelmed by the proximity with his alpha, the reassuring heat and weight of him, the scent of him. It was so strong, so pure, he’d never smelled like this before.

Anakin swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling too wet, and squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulders, shaking him and trying to snap him out of whatever trance held him. “Master? Are you hurt?”

Obi-Wan didn’t seem to register his words at all, his gaze still hazy and blank. He sniffed once, and then his eyes sharpened. He dipped his head forward to bury his face against Anakin’s neck and inhaled deeply. Anakin could feel the gentle scratch of his beard on his skin, the hot breath from his lungs as he exhaled. 

“Omega.”

Anakin blushed—he’d felt Obi-Wan’s lips move on his neck to shape the word, spoken against his skin. He tried to push Obi-Wan back, holding him up to catch his eye. “Can you walk, Master?”

Obi-Wan resisted the attempt at separation, and smelled him again with a low satisfied hum,  licking the sensitive skin below Anakin’s ear, where his mating gland was located and his scent was strongest. His voice was rough and low. “My omega.”

“I’ll take that as ‘No,’” Anakin said weakly, and glanced around. They had to get out of there. “I’m going to carry you.”

Obi-Wan did not reply, just licked his neck again, his hands coming up to rest on the curve of Anakin’s ass, gripping him with his thick fingers and pulling their hips together. Anakin made an embarrassed squeak, twisting out of Obi-Wan’s grip, his cock throbbing at the contact. 

He took a shaky, steadying breath, and pushed him back. “No, Master.”

“No?” Obi-Wan pulled his head back and blinked at him, sounding so confused. “My omega.”

“Alpha,” Anakin said apologetically, feeling a spike of arousal at Obi-Wan’s possessive, commanding tone. Was he in rut? Anakin shook his head, trying to focus. “We can’t. We need to go.”

Obi-Wan just frowned at him, so Anakin squared his shoulders and huffed with resolution—he could do this. His alpha needed him to do this.

He squatted slightly and pulled Obi-Wan over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, draping his right arm around the back of his neck and wrapping an arm behind his knees. He stood up and positioned Obi-Wan’s body on his shoulders, distributing the body weight on each side— rubbing his hard cock against Anakin’s shoulder, and making Obi-Wan groan quietly, a sound that would never leave Anakin’s memory, not ever, playing in a perpetual echo of Obi-Wan’s pleasure.

Anakin set his jaw, and slipped back into the shadows of the forest with Obi-Wan on his back, navigating through the pungent and dangerous swamp to the Twilight. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Nightsisters would notice the bodies and begin hunting them down, so he pressed onward as fast as he could. He used the Force to leap over a pool of stagnant water, and found it so difficult to focus. 

It was so distracting to be surrounded by his alpha, and to feel so much contact after so long apart. He almost couldn’t process the fact that Obi-Wan’s cock was hard and touching him, and that he smelled like sex; his scent was intensifying somehow, overwhelming Anakin and making him feel drunk with it. Obi-Wan was beginning to shift and squirm against Anakin’s shoulder, seeking friction, and Anakin let him. 

Obi-Wan’s cock was usually something that Anakin resolutely did not think about in order to stay sane. He knew from glances that burned into his memory that it was thick and long even when soft, a true alpha cock, based on the dirty vids on the Holonet that Anakin would never admit to watching. Picturing it erect was a forbidden activity that still happened every time Anakin got himself off, roughly fingering himself and imagining his alpha’s knot.

Whatever the Nightsisters had done, Anakin knew it had to be something to make Obi-Wan docile and available for breeding, there was no other explanation— But how would that kill him? It was just a rut, right? ‘The ritual was not closed,’ what the kriff did that mean?

Anakin finally reached the Twilight without the Nightsisters catching them, and felt very proud of himself for that fact. He rushed Obi-Wan into the medical bay, depositing him down on the examination table and stepping back. Obi-Wan growled with dissatisfaction when they separated, his gaze intense and demanding. “Omega.”

“I’ll be right back,” Anakin said weakly, running his hands through his hair and trying to catch his breath. He felt Obi-Wan’s gaze on him—how Obi-Wan was tracking his every move as he activated the medical droid. Anakin avoided looking directly at him as much as possible, because looking at Obi-Wan at the moment was almost painful; it felt like staring at a sun. 

Obi-Wan’s cheeks were flushed red under his beard, and the blush extended down his neck and onto his chest, disappearing under the brown fabric of his disheveled tunics. He sat with knees far enough apart for Anakin to stand between them, like an invitation, and the outline of his cock was so visible in his pants. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, and his skin had a faint sheen of sweat, and he smelled so impossibly alluring that Anakin wanted to present—he wanted to turn around and bend over, and offer Obi-Wan his neck. He couldn’t.

They were Jedi, not slaves to their biology.

Anakin knew that Obi-Wan would never forgive him for taking advantage of him when he was in such a compromised state. He couldn’t touch Obi-Wan again, no matter what.

He danced out of the reach of Obi-Wan’s hands as he left the medical bay, closing the door and keeping Obi-Wan trapped inside with the medical droid. Obi-Wan resolutely ignored the droid as it scanned him, staring daggers at Anakin for leaving through the medbay window. It didn’t seem as if he was cogent enough to understand how to work the door, and that worried Anakin a great deal.

He took a deep breath of the cool, recycled air, and the familiar scent of the ship brought some level of sanity back to his brain. He darted up to the cockpit, and rushed through the ignition sequence, getting the starship in the air and away from danger. His mind was racing, he could barely sit still. He had to take care of Obi-Wan somehow. What did the Nightsisters do? How would it kill him? Was it just a rut, or something else?

Anakin checked the vector of their approach to the fleet, and growled when he saw that it would be at least an hour until he could get Obi-Wan into the far more sophisticated medical facilities on the Resolute. The arrival timer was counting down far too slowly, and it made him want to scream. Anakin needed to get to his ship now.  

He could still smell where Obi-Wan had licked his neck, no matter how much he wiped it off, and it was driving him insane.  

He stood up slowly and tried to collect himself, reaching out with his feelings and examining himself and the environment in the Force. His bond with Obi-Wan was open and stronger than it had been in years, but Obi-Wan’s mind was somehow clouded over. He was feeling very simple, strong emotions at the moment, and most of them were for Anakin— needing him, wanting him to come back, worried about him, craving his scent.  

Anakin’s comlink chimed, and he frowned at it. The medical droid was requesting permission to make contact with the medical facilities on the Resolute. He approved the transmission, and waited for more information, pacing back and forth in the small hallway behind the cockpit. He wanted to go back to Obi-Wan, back to his scent, but that would be the wrong choice.  

His comlink chimed again, and this time it was Kix. “General Skywalker?”

“Go ahead,” Anakin replied quickly. “What’s happening?”

“Some kind of induced rut, we think.”

“Induced?”

“The toxicology report suggests so. There are no suppressants left in his system at all.”

“None?” Anakin stopped pacing, taken aback. “That should be impossible. He has an implant.”

“You’re right, General,” Kix said, sounding equally disturbed. “It should be impossible. I can’t explain it. He’s been dosed with a whole cocktail of inhibition stripping substances too, inhibition stripping and rut inducing. The medical droid on the Twilight reported that he…” Kix trailed off, and then coughed. “He was attempting to take care of the problem by himself.”

“He’s…” Anakin said quietly, flushed with sudden heat. Obi-Wan was touching himself?

Kix coughed again. “Yes, sir. But General Kenobi’s temperature is rising, and he is unable to… take care of the problem by himself.”

“He can’t…”

“No.”

Anakin thought back to the Nightsister’s last words. “This may be the doing of the Force, Kix. The Nightsisters have powerful magicks.”

“Magicks?” Kix repeated back dubiously. 

“Force sorcery,” Anakin clarified absently, his mind racing. 

“Force sorcery, sir?”

“It was part of a ritual, Kix. I interrupted a ritual.” 

“Well,” Kix said blankly. “Rituals weren’t in the curriculum on Kamino. I don’t know how to help, General.”

“That’s fine,” Anakin sighed. “Thank you Kix. I am going to… do Jedi things about it, maybe.”

Kix laughed. “Good luck, sir.”

Anakin mechanically put away his comlink, put his face in his hands, and then screamed quietly. He did a breathing exercise, noticing as many sights, sounds, and smells around him as he could, listening to the Force. Obi-Wan’s presence in the bond still only existed as a function of his need, an insistent summons for Anakin to come back, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore it.

Obi-Wan was touching himself—his hand was on his cock. He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t see it, he couldn’t.

The medical droid commed again, reporting that Obi-Wan’s fever was only increasing. If it kept on this trajectory, his life would be in danger soon. The droid couldn’t explain Obi-Wan’s inability to orgasm alone, but speculated with all the innocence of a machine that an orgasm with assistance might save Obi-Wan’s life. 

Obi-Wan’s life could not be in danger, that was unacceptable. 

Anakin’s resolution to stay away eroded all at once, collapsing under the weight of the idea of Obi-Wan dying.

He hurried back into the cockpit and informed the fleet that he would be delayed, stopping the ship from approaching the Resolute. He didn’t know how long this would take; the Resolute’s medbay couldn’t help; he didn’t want anyone else to see Obi-Wan like… that.

Satisfied they would be left alone for the time being, he jogged back down to the medbay, trying to mentally prepare himself for what he was going to see and what he was going to do, but he knew that there’d be no real way to prepare sufficiently. 

He came within sight of the window, and almost choked on his tongue—Obi-Wan was sitting on the edge of the exam table where Anakin had left him, his tabards pushed apart, and his pants open just enough to pull out his long, flushed cock, his legs still spread indecently wide. He was leaning back on one hand, the other hand stroking his cock quickly, his wrist twisting as he squeezed the head. The expression on his face and the feeling in the Force was frustrated. 

Anakin blinked, and then made himself move forward. He opened the door, and Obi-Wan froze, his gaze snapping to meet Anakin’s, and then he was moving. Anakin sucked in a surprised inhale as Obi-Wan crowded him against the door he’d just come through, sucking kisses on his neck and rumbling a low noise of approval that made Anakin feel lightheaded. “Omega.”

“Alpha,” Anakin whispered, tipping his head to the side despite himself, and allowing Obi-Wan access to his neck. “I hope you forgive me for this.”

“Omega,” Obi-Wan demanded, rough and low. He reached down and grabbed Anakin’s bare left hand, pulling it to his cock.

“Right,” Anakin said faintly, and wrapped shaky fingers around the hard length. He whimpered as Obi-Wan returned to sucking on his neck, and began to stroke the soft skin of Obi-Wan’s cock. “Like that?”

Obi-Wan made a low, approving noise, resting his hands on the curve of Anakin’s ass, squeezing the soft, strong muscles and pulling him closer. The medbay was silent except for their heavy breathing, and it felt so impossibly warm. It felt like a dream, surely he’d had this dream before. 

Obi-Wan’s cock was so kriffing thick in his hand—thicker than any of Anakin’s toys, thicker than anything he’d ever taken—which didn’t matter, they weren’t going to fuck, they weren’t.

Obi-Wan’s precome was enough to make his cock slick for Anakin’s hand, and Anakin worked up the confidence to begin mimicking the twisting motion of the wrist, squeezing the head in the same way he’d seen Obi-Wan use on himself through the window. 

Obi-Wan groaned, and pulled his head back, looking at Anakin with so much affection and approval. He began to undress Anakin, pulling off his belt, his tabards and his tunic, rubbing all the exposed skin in a proprietary, appreciative way. It was only when he tried to unfasten Anakin’s pants that Anakin finally remembered to stop him. “No, Alpha.”

“Omega,” Obi-Wan complained, but obeyed, sliding his hands around instead to grab and hold Anakin’s ass. He needed to stop doing that; it felt too good. “My omega.”

Anakin whined and nodded, tipping his head back as Obi-Wan returned to sucking bruises on his neck. His own cock was so hard, his heart pounding, but he tried to ignore his own desire, and focus. He kept his eyes up, fixed on the far wall the entire time, unwilling to look down at what he was doing. He didn’t want to invade Obi-Wan’s privacy more than he already had by seeing what wasn’t his to see—what he wouldn’t survive seeing, what his hand on Obi-Wan’s cock would look like.

Obi-Wan seemed close to coming, his balls tight and cock so hard. Anakin stroked deliberately, using just the right amount of pressure, and Obi-Wan groaned loudly. He rocked his hips into Anakin’s hand, and Anakin felt the pleasure of Obi-Wan’s orgasm ripple out first in the Force, and then hot streaks of come coated his hand and bare stomach. 

“Omega?” Obi-Wan blinked, panting, only slightly more aware of his surroundings in the aftermath of the orgasm. His brow furrowed with confusion. “Anakin?”

“Master,” Anakin breathed, hastily wiping his hand on his stomach. “You’re okay, you’ll be okay.” The bright, aware look in Obi-Wan’s eyes and in the Force was waning fast, and Anakin didn’t know how to stop it. “Master!”

“Omega,” Obi-Wan muttered, and shifted. Anakin could see that his cock was still hard despite his orgasm. He hadn’t popped a knot with a handjob, of course he hadn’t. Kriff. Is that what it would take?

Obi-Wan wiped a finger through the come on Anakin’s stomach, and began rubbing some of it into his mating gland on his neck. “Smell better now.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, shivering at the contact. That skin was so sensitive. “Do I usually smell bad? I try not to.”

Obi-Wan growled at him, unamused. “Other alpha’s scent on you. Always. Always smell wrong.”

“Wrong?” Anakin felt slightly stung. Other alpha? Was he talking about Padmé?

Obi-Wan shook his head, reaching up to cup the back of Anakin’s neck and rub possessive circles with his thumb on the sensitive skin. His free hand swiped Anakin’s stomach for come, and then without warning he pushed the coated fingers past Anakin’s lips and into his mouth. Anakin made a surprised noise, letting Obi-Wan press down on his tongue. His eyes were growing hazy again. “Good omega. Suck.”

Anakin whined and instinctively sucked on the fingers, tasting Obi-Wan’s come. His cock throbbed at the taste and at the intimate, possessive tone of Obi-Wan's voice. He swallowed thickly; his mind was racing, thinking back to what he’d heard and seen about alphas in rut. If his hands weren’t enough to satisfy… 

“What do you need?” Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan’s cock, and ran a tentative finger along its persistently hard length.

Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes focused on Anakin’s finger on his cock. “Come inside.”

Anakin looked up with surprise, studying his face. “You need to come inside me, Master?”—The words made him flush with heat, cock aching—“Is that how to end this? I guess it’s Force sorcery, not science.”

Breeding meant impregnation was the goal, so did Obi-Wan have to come inside a Nightsister to break the magick, or could he come inside anyone else? Anyone like… Anakin?

“Omega, yes,” Obi-Wan said assertively. He squeezed the back of Anakin’s neck, and Anakin felt limp in his hold. He whimpered when Obi-Wan swiped his stomach again and fed him more come with his free hand. “Suck.”

Anakin obediently sucked his fingers clean, and knew what he needed to do. His gaze dropped to Obi-Wan’s cock with intent, and it felt like strong gravity was pulling him down to his knees. He sucked spit into his mouth and then spat into his palm, making it wet.

Obi-Wan hummed approval, sliding a hand into his curls and making a fist, tugging gently. He tipped Anakin’s head back and held it in place, pressing a finger to Anakin’s bottom lip. “Open, omega. Suck.”

Anakin nodded, whimpering as his hair was pulled, and he quickly spread his saliva on Obi-Wan’s cock, circling his fingers around the thick length and holding him steady at the base. He leaned forward and licked the slit, and then let the tip push through his lips into his mouth. Obi-Wan groaned, and Anakin sucked gently, using his lips to drag soft pressure around the head of his cock. 

It was so surreal, the taste of him, the feeling of him on his tongue—he was sucking Obi-Wan’s cock, just like he’d wanted for so long.

He knew he should feel guilty, should feel sorry, all he felt was painfully aroused. 

“Good omega,” Obi-Wan was murmuring, encouraging Anakin’s motion with his hand in his curls, every tug making Anakin’s cock ache. “So good.”

Anakin whined gratefully at the praise. He had never tried to suck a cock this big before, and could barely do more than take the fat head in his mouth and let it press down his tongue, squeezing with his lips and sucking gently as he used his hand to stroke the length. He wished he could get more inside, but he was just too thick.

Maybe with practice he could figure out how to hold his jaw and relax his muscles, let Obi-Wan fuck his mouth enough to teach him how to take it—but this would never happen again. 

Anakin looked up to make eye contact with an intoxicated-looking Obi-Wan. He was propping himself up with one hand against the door, the other still in Anakin’s hair. His expression was intent, eyes dark. “Good omega, sucking your alpha’s cock.”

Anakin moaned loudly, he felt a thrill run down his spine, and his eyes fluttered closed with pleasure. Obi-Wan tightened his grip on his hair, and fucked his cock deeper inside Anakin’s mouth, making him splutter and cough. He pulled back, letting Anakin catch his breath, and then did it again, pushing in until he hit the back of Anakin’s throat, and Anakin's eyes rolled back, taking it. 

Obi-Wan grunted and came, his hand tightening on Anakin’s hair as he spilled his come in his mouth. He pulled his cock out for the last of it, smearing Anakin’s lips with come and smiling with satisfaction at the sight. “Good. Swallow, now.”

Anakin swallowed, and then licked his lips, studying Obi-Wan’s face. He could spot the exact moment that the magick receded enough for Obi-Wan to wake up, his eyes widening with horror and his hand jerking out of Anakin’s hair. “Anakin?”

“Master,” Anakin said, and he blushed at how he sounded, voice rough and low from sucking cock. “Are you feeling better?”

“Temporarily, I think,” Obi-Wan said, sounding stressed. “Anakin, I’m so sorry, I don’t know how to stop it except—”

Anakin stood up and shook his head, coughing and clearing his throat. “It’s fine, Master. I will not let you die.”

“I won’t mark you, I promise.” Obi-Wan’s eyes were growing foggy again, his presence in the Force more remote. “I promise, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded and sighed, beginning to remove what was left of both of their clothing. Obi-Wan’s knot hadn’t appeared with the blow job, which Anakin had expected, but it had been worth a try. Obi-Wan apparently had to fuck him in the ass and knot him in order for him to survive.

Anakin would do anything to avoid Obi-Wan’s death, and this was no hardship. He could do it, and he would do it. He wasn’t sure if the Council would say that he should do it, but he didn’t much care about ‘shoulds’ today. Not when his Master was at risk. Anakin would take care of his alpha, the head and heart of his tiny pack, at any cost. 

Once they both were naked, Anakin searched the cabinets for medical grade lubricant, finding it after a few tense moments. Obi-Wan wrapped himself around Anakin distractingly—the hair on his chest was slightly scratchy on the soft skin of Anakin’s back, his hard cock was poking between Anakin’s thighs, and his hot mouth was on his neck. He would have a whole necklace of bruises. 

“Alpha,” Anakin said with slight exasperation as Obi-Wan resisted moving. “I need prep. I can’t just take a cock as big as yours right away.”

Obi-Wan grumbled and let go, his brow furrowed. “Omega.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anakin huffed. He sat on the edge of the padded exam table, scooting his hips until he was in a comfortable position to finger himself open. He was about to dispense lube on his fingers when Obi-Wan growled.

“Okay, I’ll go faster,” Anakin whispered, his heart pounding, breath quick. He added lube to his fingers and moved to touch himself, but Obi-Wan came to stand between his legs, pushing them back and apart, catching his hand and pulling it off. “Hey!”

Obi-Wan grabbed the lube and popped the top, squeezing out some of the shiny, slick substance onto his fingers. He ran an exploratory touch from behind Anakin’s balls back up past his entrance, and then hummed with dissatisfaction. Anakin opened his mouth to ask when Obi-Wan grabbed his hips and flipped him onto his stomach, pulling him up to his hands and knees on the table. 

Anakin whined when Obi-Wan pressed one hand down on Anakin’s back, encouraging him to his elbows, spine extending out long and curved. He then pulled Anakin’s legs further apart, and grabbed the curves of his ass, spreading him and exposing his hole. He spat on it, and rubbed it gently for a moment. “Good omega.”

“Alpha,” Anakin whined, his cock felt painfully hard. He inhaled sharply with arousal as Obi-Wan’s fingers rested against his entrance, circling and pushing gently against the soft skin. Anakin rolled his hips, trying to get them inside. “Alpha, please.”

“Not very wet?” Obi-Wan asked, sounding so concerned, and he pulled his hand back to add more lube.

Anakin flushed. “You make me take suppressants that prevent me from getting slick, Master. The fact that I have any at all is proof that I like this so much that I’m overriding my dosage.”

“My omega?” Obi-Wan asked, still somewhat insecure. He pushed in a finger, letting Anakin adjust around him. "Mine?"

“Yours,” Anakin nodded breathlessly, not even thinking before adding part of his biggest secret, the words sliding out without thought. “Always, forever, my alpha.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, and buried his face in Anakin’s ass, licking and kissing the sensitive skin around where he was pushing another finger in, intently working him open. Anakin moaned at the sensation of his wet tongue and his thick fingers pressing deep inside. Obi-Wan began fucking him faster with his fingers, opening him up quickly and stroking his prostate, making him whine and his cock jump. 

“Please,” Anakin begged, and Obi-Wan just added another finger, spreading them apart, checking Anakin’s readiness to take his cock. “Alpha, please.”

“Omega.” Obi-Wan pulled back, and made a satisfied sound. "Taste so good." He slid his fingers out, making Anakin whimper loudly.

“Alpha, please.” 

He exhaled hard with surprise as Obi-Wan grabbed his hips again. He pulled back until Anakin’s knees slid off the exam table and his feet fell to the floor, his legs spread wide with Obi-Wan standing between them. Anakin whined in protest—he was bent over the table, but too far away to have friction on his hard cock, and he rocked his hips, trying to rub his cock on something, anything.  

Obi-Wan gripped his hips tight enough to bruise, and he began sliding his cock teasingly between his legs. “My omega.”

“Yes, yes, yours,” Anakin agreed hastily, arching his back and presenting for his alpha as best he could while his hips were held in place. “Fuck me, please, Force, fuck me, alpha.”

Obi-Wan stroked a hand up and down Anakin’s spine soothingly, and used the other hand to guide the head of his cock to press against his slick hole. “Take it, omega.”

“Alpha, yes,” Anakin groaned, the entire world narrowing down to the feeling of Obi-Wan’s cock pressed against him. Obi-Wan rolled his hips forward, and the head of his cock began to slide inside. Anakin dropped his forehead to rest on his arm, bearing down as best he could, trying to let Obi-Wan’s thick alpha cock inside. He was so big, too big. “Oh, Force.”

Obi-Wan gripped the cheeks of his ass again, pulling him apart as he pushed his cock deeper inside, sinking past the muscle. Anakin whimpered, and he held still for a tense moment, letting him adjust. The second that Anakin seemed to relax around him, Obi-Wan snapped his hips forward, burying his cock deep in Anakin’s tight body. 

“Alpha,” Anakin groaned, taking it as best he could. “Alpha, yes.”

Obi-Wan rumbled something indistinct, his voice so low and intent. He slid his cock out almost all the way, and then fucked in again. He was so big, and it was making Anakin’s mind go blank and staticky. Obi-Wan was fucking him, fucking him with his long, thick cock, just like he’d dreamed—it was so much better than a dream.

Every thrust of Obi-Wan’s as he worked the entire length of his cock into Anakin pushed him closer toward the table, and then one rough snap of his hips rubbed Anakin’s cock against the padded edge of the table. He groaned loudly at the contact, and Obi-Wan began fucking him harder against the table. “Good omega, take it.”

Anakin whimpered, and moved his hands to hold on to the other side of the exam table, bracing himself. “Yes, alpha.”

Obi-Wan just kicked his feet farther apart, and forcibly tipped Anakin’s hips forward, pushing his cock against the table. Anakin groaned, and Obi-Wan fucked him harder, making a low sound of satisfaction. The last adjustment of Anakin’s posture and the last hard thrust brought their hips smacking together, and Obi-Wan was buried completely inside, Anakin had done it, he’d taken the whole thing. “Good omega, good. Take your alpha’s cock so well.”

“Alpha, yes,” Anakin whined, holding on. Obi-Wan’s hips snapped forward, fucking him hard, and the sound of their hips meeting began to fill the small medbay.  “Alpha.”

“Omega,” Obi-Wan agreed, voice deep and gravelly, and he leaned forward, covering Anakin completely—his chest was hot and scratchy on Anakin’s back as his thrusts grew rougher and less rhythmic. His hands covered Anakin’s where they gripped the table, and his mouth returned to Anakin’s neck, licking and sucking. He bit Anakin’s ear, fucking him harder, and murmured. “My omega.”

Anakin felt a lightning strike of arousal, precome sliding out of his cock. He pulled a hand out from under Obi-Wan’s and moved it back to cover his mating gland and protect it from Obi-Wan’s teeth. He wanted his teeth in his neck more than anything, but Obi-Wan didn’t want to mark him, so he couldn’t let him. 

Obi-Wan hummed and bit at the hand with a playful snap, his cock sliding back and then thrusting forward hard, slapping their hips together and making Anakin groan. Obi-Wan returned to sucking on Anakin’s neck, moving down to his shoulder and biting down hard.

Anakin moaned as he felt Obi-Wan’s knot beginning to catch on his entrance. “Alpha.”

“Omega,” Obi-Wan said against his skin, kissing the spot he’d bitten and then moving his mouth two inches to the left and biting down again. He thrust inside one final time, and his knot swelled enough to lock his cock inside. His orgasm washed over Anakin in the Force, his teeth in his shoulder, holding him down.

“Master,” Anakin whined, the overwhelming rush of Obi-Wan’s pleasure in the Force tipping him over the edge, and he came too, his mind going blank as the orgasm rolled through him, down his spine, all the tension released as come spilled from his cock against the table and dripping down onto the floor. 

It was very quiet for a moment, and their breathing the loudest thing in the room as they both caught their breath. Anakin felt in the Force the moment that Obi-Wan’s fever broke, his mind rushing back to full awareness. “Anakin?” He shifted his hips, inadvertently tugging on his knot and making Anakin whine with protest.

Anakin turned his head, bringing their faces close together, searching for eye contact. “Master.”

“Anakin, I…” Obi-Wan exhaled hard, another smaller orgasm shimmering in the Force, making his eyes flutter closed for a moment before opening clearer. “Anakin—”

Before he could apologize or reprimand or whatever he was about to do, Anakin twisted further and wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s neck, pulling his face close and kissing him fiercely. It took a few moments before Obi-Wan kissed him back, but he did, his mouth so soft as their lips moved together. Anakin parted his lips, and Obi-Wan licked inside his mouth, their tongues touching for an electric moment before Obi-Wan jerked his head back. 

“Anakin, we can’t—”

“Master,” Anakin begged him, eyes wide. “Wait until your knot is out of me before you reject me, please, alpha.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said softly, his face softening with understanding. “Of course.” He still pulled back and stood up straight, his chest leaving its proximity to Anakin’s back, cool air rushing in to replace it. He stroked Anakin’s spine as they waited, his fingers lingering on each ridge. 

The small medbay was very quiet, and Anakin turned to rest his forehead against the table, focusing and internalizing how it felt to have his alpha’s cock knotted inside him. It would never happen again. Eventually the knot went down, little by little, until Obi-Wan was able to slide his cock out. Anakin shuddered at the feeling of his come dripping out too. 

He suddenly felt so overwhelmed with grief, a sense of loss and devastation grew as Obi-Wan stepped back. It was over, and it would never happen again. His eyes felt hot, and he sniffed, his face still down.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, voice still slightly rough, but infinitely gentle. He pulled Anakin up, turning him around and sitting him back against the table, peering into his face with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

Anakin laughed weakly, and wiped his eyes, refusing to let a tear fall. He could feel Obi-Wan’s come dripping down his thighs. “No, Master.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Please don’t apologize,” Anakin said quietly, ignoring a spike of pain at his words. He looked down at the mess of lube and come on his stomach and legs. “I’m going to go get clean.”

“I will do so as well.”

“Great,” Anakin whispered. He gathered all of his composure and strength, and stood up, walking past Obi-Wan toward one of the small crew ‘freshers down the hall. 

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan said as he passed, his hand rising and falling as if he considered stopping him. 

Anakin pulled his arm out of reach just in case. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Obi-Wan followed him down the hall in silence, and Anakin could feel the chaotic mess of his emotions in the Force. Their training bond was stronger now than it ever had been, all the frayed edges from time spent apart repaired and reinforced. It wouldn’t last.

Anakin stepped into the sonic, and stared vacantly at the wall as it removed all of Obi-Wan’s come from his skin. He resisted the urge to sob with steady, rhythmic breathing, swallowing down his sadness. Obi-Wan’s scent lingered on his skin despite the sonic. Obi-Wan had rubbed come on his mating gland, and scent marked him as his own. It smelled so good. 

It wouldn’t last.

Anakin returned to the medbay for his clothes, and found Obi-Wan already there, pulling on his pants. His scent was still much stronger than usual, the lack of suppressants and blockers giving Anakin a picture of what Obi-Wan would smell like on a daily basis without them. It wouldn't last, he'd be dosed again soon. They dressed in silence, adding layer by layer and becoming Generals again, Jedi again, as if nothing had happened. 

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said at length, his voice soft and much calmer than his Force signature would suggest. At least he wasn’t angry. “The last thing I remember from the planet… I didn’t want to be used like that.” 

“I would never let them, Obi-Wan. Never.” Anakin shook his head, pulling on his boots and looking at the floor.  

“I’m very sorry to have—”

“Stop,” Anakin said with exasperation, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re my best friend. My instincts may call you something else, but… your friendship is what really matters to me, Master. You are my friend.” 

“I consider you my friend too, Anakin.” Obi-Wan swallowed, and smoothed his beard down anxiously. “This doesn’t change that.”

Anakin nodded and crossed the medbay to put the inert medical droid back in his station, doing something just to be doing something. He grabbed a towel, returning to the exam table, and attempting to wipe it down and clean up the come. His sense of guilt was increasing and making him feel slightly ill. “You know I enjoyed it more than I should have. If anything, I should apologize to you for taking advantage of you.” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in surprise and horror. “What? No! Anakin…”

Anakin laid the towel on the table and turned to face Obi-Wan, running his hand through his hair anxiously, trying to get it to lay flat and failing. “Master… Are we going to be okay?”

Obi-Wan had a complicated expression for a moment, and then he stepped forward, reaching up to cup Anakin’s face with his hand and stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Anakin nuzzled against his palm, full of confusion. “Master?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, earnest and reassuring. “I promise that everything is going to be okay.”

Anakin asked weakly, “Promise?”

“I promise you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan nodded at him decisively and stepped away, turning to leave. “Everything will be okay.”

Anakin could only follow him up to the cockpit of the ship, and hope desperately that he was telling the truth. They would be okay. 

They had to be okay. 

The green haze receded and Obi-Wan knew that it wouldn’t return again. His mind finally felt cooler, his vision clearer, and his heartbeat was no longer pounding in his ears. He blinked, took a deep breath, smelled the room, and then realized where he was. Knot locked deep inside…

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan said, aghast, twitching with surprise. The last thing he’d been truly conscious for and aware of, Anakin had been rising from his knees with Obi-Wan’s come on his lips.

Anakin whined beneath him as he moved, knot tugging, and oh Force did that sound not thrill Obi-Wan—his alpha-self purred, smug and satisfied. The pleasure of the pressure and heat of Anakin’s body around Obi-Wan’s cock was indescribable, with the added satisfaction of covering Anakin with his body, seeing his neck sucked purple with marks, it was all impossible. 

His knot was inside Anakin. 

“Master,” Anakin said breathlessly, his voice so low and sultry. He’d sucked Obi-Wan’s cock, taken him deep in his mouth, gagged on it. Obi-Wan was close enough to see every shade of blue in his eyes, though his pupils were blown, cheeks flushed crimson, mouth pouting and wet. He looked like sex, and smelled like Obi-Wan’s come.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan said weakly, and came again at the sight of him, the smell of him, the feel of him on his knot, the fact that it was Anakin. “I…”

He’d fucked Anakin. Obi-Wan shuddered slightly, his eyes fluttering closed, as the aftershock of pleasure flooded his brain, spilling even more come, filling Anakin up completely and his knot keeping him full. He’d covered Anakin in his come, made him, oh Force, he’d made him lick and suck it, filled him with it.

The second, smaller orgasm finally ended, and Obi-Wan blinked. Sith hells.

Now the last of the haze had actually receded. His brain was coming back fully online, and every fact about where he was and what he was doing fed into an escalating sense of panic. He was knotted in his Padawan, who was blinking up at him as if he was his alpha, who’d said he was his omega, or had he? Had he said that? He couldn’t have, wouldn’t have.

He started, “Anakin—”

Anakin pouted and shifted beneath him, twisting enough to get an arm around his neck, pulling his face closer and kissing him fiercely. Obi-Wan was frozen, but despite himself, he began to kiss him back. He couldn’t help it, it felt too good, too right. Anakin’s lips were so soft, so plush, and they tasted like Obi-Wan’s come. His knot throbbed, a tiny aftershock of another orgasm. 

Anakin parted his lips and Obi-Wan felt a mindless need to taste his mouth. He deepened the kiss, and it tasted like Anakin and his come. His tongue brushed against Anakin’s, and the pleasure of the contact was electric, shooting down his spine straight to his cock. His omega, pumped full of his come, belly heavy with it, his mate.

Obi-Wan jerked his head back, the thought making him panic. “Anakin, we can’t—”

“Master,” Anakin begged him, his eyes pleading. “Wait until your knot is out of me before you reject me, please, alpha.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan exhaled, chastened. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how physically and emotionally overwhelming it must be for Anakin right now, being knotted by an alpha who wasn’t the senator. His omega instincts were probably at play, the kiss had been about seeking comfort, his rejection sensitivity incredibly high. “Of course.” 

Obi-Wan pulled back, slipping out of Anakin’s hold. He just couldn’t stay so close to him when his lips and skin smelled like come—even now, he wanted to put teeth in his neck. He was grateful that Anakin had kept him away from his mating gland during sex, and didn’t trust that he would have on his own. 

He wouldn’t want to ruin Anakin’s life like that, and take something that wasn’t his to have.

He stood up straight, giving Anakin a bit of space to breathe instead of smothering him like he wanted to. Anakin looked so good bent over in front of him, of course he did. Obi-Wan felt slightly mesmerized, watching how Anakin’s back expanded and contracted slowly with his breath. His face was turned away, hiding his expression from Obi-Wan, and his presence in the Force was oddly meditative and cool. 

Obi-Wan wished for once that he could have a sliver of Anakin’s calm. 

Obi-Wan’s brain was a mess.  

He couldn’t help but touch him; he felt unable to stop, not when he wouldn’t get to touch him like this again. He stroked the length of Anakin’s spine, his fingers lingering on each ridge. It took his breath away—Anakin was just so beautiful, his back was strong and muscled, shoulders so broad, waist narrow, his skin so golden and soft. His curls were a mess, curls that he’d held in his fist when he’d fucked his mouth…  

Thoughts like that did not help his knot soften.

He tried to think about something else, anything else. He tried to go through all the reasons that this was beyond unacceptable behavior. He’d spent literal years deescalating their intimacy while Anakin had been a Padawan, and let their training bond decay after Anakin was Knighted, as was standard protocol. He’d worked so hard to keep the attachment between them appropriate.  

He remembered exactly how aroused he’d been to discover that Anakin was an omega and that his nest, his slick, was in Obi-Wan’s bedroom. He’d desperately wanted to fuck Anakin in that moment, and that had horrified him, disgusted him. His Padawan. The idea of abusing his position in such a way had led him to a crisis. 

Objectively speaking, Obi-Wan should have requested a transfer, but the idea of giving Anakin away had been unacceptable. He’d promised to train him, and… he didn’t want to. So instead, he had worked hard over the years to protect Anakin from exactly what he was doing right now. Protect him from himself.

At least Anakin wasn’t still his Padawan, and certainly hadn’t been a virgin, and hadn’t been for years, not since Naboo, but the thought of Padmé Amidala did not help his knot soften at all. The memory of Anakin’s soft awe as he looked at the rival alpha, on the other hand, helped a great deal—it helped to remember that this wasn’t what his omega wanted.

He wasn’t. 

Ever since Anakin had come back from Naboo with the senator’s scent all over him and a starry look in his eyes, it felt like an answer to questions that Obi-Wan hadn’t realized that he was carrying around inside.

Had Anakin imprinted on him as an authority figure, with that incidental and transient attraction guiding him to nest in Obi-Wan’s room? Would that attraction disappear when Obi-Wan was no longer in a position of authority? 

The answer, of course, had been yes.

The scent of the senator had thankfully faded somewhat after Naboo, but it had never fully gone away. It became stronger at irregular periods that Obi-Wan could never predict unless he was watching Anakin’s schedule closely, but even then, Anakin was devious enough that Obi-Wan was often unpleasantly surprised. He assumed that Anakin must have an arrangement to meet up with her whenever they could.

He had often wondered if Anakin was going to remain in the Order after the war was over,  but had never found it within himself to ask. He had no real desire to know. The very idea of Anakin leaving him and the Order, mating and settling down, maybe even raising kids with an alpha who wasn’t him—it made Obi-Wan want to put a fist through drywall, which was not a particularly orthodox Jedi feeling to have. 

Force damned human instincts.

The very idea of Anakin pregnant activated the most primal, protective, and possessive part of himself. The idea of Anakin pregnant with another alpha’s children, with Obi-Wan standing back and letting it happen, not fighting it, was just… impossible, so Obi-Wan didn’t think about it. He would cross that bridge when he got to it. 

His fingers reached the base of Anakin’s spine, and his knot felt smaller. He moved his hips slightly to test, and exhaled hard when he was able to pull out. He watched his come drip out blankly, resisting the urge to slide in his fingers, plug him back up, keep it all inside longer. He wanted to be back in Anakin’s heat more than anything. 

Anakin shuddered slightly, and then the Force was filled with pain. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and he heard a quiet sniff. He asked, full of concern, “Anakin?” 

Had taking out the knot hurt him? He hadn’t been wet enough because of the suppressants, the lube might not have been enough. Had he hurt him, damaged him?

Anakin didn’t reply right away, and Obi-Wan needed to see his face. He pulled him up and turned him around, leaning him back against the table. He studied his face, trying to understand. “Did I hurt you?”

Anakin laughed humorlessly, and wiped his eyes. “No, Master.” 

The sight of Anakin crying like this directly after sex with Obi-Wan made him feel as though he had swallowed something scalding and toxic. He felt sick. He’d done that. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Please don’t apologize,” Anakin said, and his voice was still so quiet and rough. Had he hurt his throat? Had Obi-Wan hurt him? He looked down at the mess of lube and come on his stomach and legs. “I’m going to go get clean.”

Obi-Wan nodded, fully understanding that Anakin wanted to wash off his scent, and start moving on, forgetting the entire thing happened. He reassured him, “I will do so as well.”

“Great,” Anakin whispered. He stood up, slightly unsteady, and began walking past Obi-Wan toward one of the small crew ‘freshers down the hall. His expression was so miserable.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan said as he passed, his hand rising despite himself, wanting to reach out and stop him, bring him back, but he held back with effort, keeping himself from touching. 

“Don’t.” Anakin dodged away from him, pulling his arm out of reach. Of course he wouldn’t want to touch him, what had he been thinking? “Just… don’t.” 

Obi-Wan dropped his hand to his side, clenching a fist and letting it go. He followed Anakin down the hall in silence, and he could feel Anakin’s pain in the Force. Obi-Wan’s sense of guilt and shame at Anakin’s pain was overwhelming. He felt Anakin’s hurt so clearly—their training bond seemed stronger now than it ever had been. 

He found a ‘fresher, and stepped into the sonic, but it was a long moment before he could bring himself to turn it on. He breathed slowly through his nose, savoring the scent of Anakin on his skin. He almost couldn’t believe that he was smelling Anakin’s slick. It vividly brought back those first few months after the nesting where the scent of Anakin just wouldn’t leave his bedroom. 

Getting Anakin’s scent smothered and blocked had been good for Obi-Wan’s sanity and control, but it had been painful to erase something that perfect. His omega smelled so good in heat, so good all the time, his omega was so perfect. Not his omega. Not his.

Obi-Wan turned on the sonic and waited as all the traces of what had happened were cleaned away. Anakin’s scent lingered afterwards, and he felt tempted to get back in and do more cycles, as many as needed until his skin was raw and the scent was gone.

He didn’t. 

He went back to the medbay instead, and began to put his clothes back on. Just looking at the exam table made him blush. All of his memories were hazy and filtered through a green veil, and he couldn’t be sure if things had happened exactly how he’d perceived them happening at the time. 

Had Anakin’s eyes rolled back in pleasure when Obi-Wan fucked his mouth, or had that been another reaction that he’d misunderstood? He didn’t know. Had Anakin said that he was his alpha forever, or had he misheard and misunderstood? He didn’t know. Had Anakin killed all the Nightsisters, including one he had disarmed? He didn’t know, but he had a guess. 

He couldn’t find it in his heart to be very troubled about the fate of the Nightsisters. They had been planning to use him to father children and then kill him when they conceived—he had been in the process of getting raped when Anakin rescued him.

But then he’d turned around and coerced Anakin into sex acts that he never would have otherwise performed. Anakin seemed to have consented to help him, but he’d been manipulated by his attachment to Obi-Wan. His heart wouldn’t let anyone die, especially his old Master, even if it meant doing things he wouldn’t want to do otherwise. 

He was just as much a victim of sexual assault in this as Obi-Wan was.

Obi-Wan looked over as Anakin came in, eyes getting stuck on the bruises on his neck and the bite marks on his shoulder. His walk was slightly tentative, and the idea of why made Obi-Wan feel hot. Anakin was determinately not looking at him, and it hurt and was a relief.

There was some relief too in putting clothes on, becoming a Jedi and a General again, as if nothing had happened. Except for the mess of Anakin’s neck.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said at length, to fill the silence, and because he needed Anakin to know he was grateful for his help. “The last thing I remember from the planet… I didn’t want to be used like that.” 

Anakin’s face was stormy, and he shook his head, pulling on his boots, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I would never let them, Obi-Wan. Never.” 

Obi-Wan felt his unhappiness in the Force, and felt his chest ache. He’d done that. “I’m very sorry to have—”

“Stop,” Anakin said with exasperation, finally meeting his eyes. He looked stubborn, intent, and beautiful. “You’re my best friend. My instincts may call you something else, but… your friendship is what really matters to me, Master. You are my friend.” 

Obi-Wan swallowed, processing Anakin’s words. His instincts call… That explains what he’d said during sex, about alpha. They were friends, and that was why he had saved his life. Friendship. He smoothed down his beard, collecting himself. “I consider you my friend too, Anakin. This doesn’t change that.”

Anakin nodded and began tidying up the small medbay. Obi-Wan couldn’t do anything but watch, and search for something to say. Nothing came to mind. 

Anakin wasn’t meeting his eyes again, his expression bleak, and he spoke suddenly, making Obi-Wan startle. “You know I enjoyed it more than I should have. If anything, I should apologize to you for taking advantage of you.” 

Obi-Wan felt a shock of surprise and horror at the very idea. Because he’d felt pleasure in the coerced sex, he’d taken advantage? “What? No! Anakin…”

Anakin dropped the towel, and turned to face Obi-Wan, looking so worried, his Force signature unsteady. He was running his hand through his hair anxiously, trying to pat it down, a self-soothing gesture Obi-Wan had seen since he was a boy. “Master … Are we going to be okay?”

Obi-Wan didn’t know what Anakin meant by okay.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what Anakin wanted from him, except what he’d said, that friendship was what really mattered. 

Obi-Wan didn’t know what Anakin meant by friendship. 

He looked so adorably concerned, almost vibrating with his need to make sure things were going to be back to normal. Obi-Wan felt pulled forward, placing his palm on Anakin’s cheek and stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Thankfully Anakin didn't flinch away from his hand again, tolerating Obi-Wan’s need to touch him, full of confusion. “Master?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, as earnest and reassuring as he was capable of being. He was trying to project certainty to Anakin—he wanted Anakin to trust that they would be fine, and let his guilt go. “I promise that everything is going to be okay.”

Anakin’s eyes were so wide, so full of need. “Promise?”

“I promise you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan nodded at him decisively and sighed. They had to get back to their lives, back out of this room that smelled like their come, like sex, or else… Obi-Wan was too close to the edge of his inhibition to keep his hands off. He turned to leave, leading the way out. “Everything will be okay.”

Anakin followed behind him, and Obi-Wan could feel clearly in the Force how much Anakin wanted things to be normal again, and go back to how things were before. He wanted to forget this ever happened. He wanted to be friends, even if they were attracted to each other and his instincts had called him his alpha, forever. 

Obi-Wan could be friends regardless of his desire. He had years of practice. They would be okay. 

They had to be okay. 

It had been a long, unpleasant siege on this rainy, muddy, stupid, unimportant, nowhere Mid Rim planet, and Anakin was extremely tired of it. If the invasion had gone as predicted, they would have been done and sent back to Coruscant for a rest cycle weeks ago, but they hadn’t had accurate information about the true strength of the Separatist forces.

So, it had gone poorly instead.

The Separatist fleet had taken control of the hyperlane, cutting off the supply chain. All the Republic reinforcements and resupply essential to their victory were held back, as their ships would have to fight their way down the hyperlane to get to them. They were projected to be under blockade for a few more weeks.

The 501st and 212th were stuck trying to break through the Techno Union’s shields with barrage fire from their artillery, but it was too low-power to really do much damage, and it was going to take months at this rate. Anakin could not spend months more here. He simply could not. 

Being around Obi-Wan was driving him insane. Kriffing Obi-Wan.

It had only been a couple months since Dathomir, but it might have never happened for all that Obi-Wan would acknowledge it. He’d immediately returned to the cool, polite reserve of Anakin’s final Padawan years—the sliver of comfort and camaraderie that had grown since he’d been Knighted and Obi-Wan let himself relax a little, it was all gone.

It was the worst. 

Obi-Wan was always and uniformly friendly, but he was no longer Anakin’s friend. It made Anakin want to be redeployed down to the Western Reaches, or over to the New Territories, or somewhere as far from Obi-Wan as it was possible to get.

He couldn’t look at Obi-Wan without seeing his dark, intoxicated gaze down on him as he sucked his cock, his face so flushed with desire, his hand tight in his hair. “Good omega, sucking your alpha’s cock.”

Anakin coughed and shifted, flipping over the droid motivator he was working on to refocus. His imagination was getting more and more overactive the longer he spent around Obi-Wan. The standard-issue eight-man tent that the troopers had set up for the Jedi was large, but nowhere near large enough. It was far too intimate for them to share a tent, but Anakin didn’t want to go complain and ask for his own.

That would raise questions that he didn’t want to answer. 

Obi-Wan’s scent was blocked, of course, but imperfectly, somehow. It seemed a bit like once Anakin had smelled Obi-Wan’s scent as it really was, at its full, natural strength, and been covered in it, had it rubbed into his skin— he was hyperaware of it, maybe. It made the tent a frustrating place to be, but it was raining and so muddy that leaving without good reason was even worse.

Anakin hated this planet. The Separatists could have it for all he cared. Enjoy the mud, droidkriffers!

He looked up sharply as the tent flap opened, and a filthy Obi-Wan gingerly stepped inside. He looked approximately as miserable as Anakin, which was oddly cheering. If Anakin had to suffer, he wanted Obi-Wan to suffer too, it was only fair.

Obi-Wan hung up his wet cloak, and dried his hair with a towel, making it stick up in the back in a way that Anakin did not find at all endearing. Anakin quickly focused back down on his repair project as Obi-Wan’s armor began to come off, as any act of stripping sent his mind in unproductive directions. “Anakin, the—”

Anakin looked back up in confusion when Obi-Wan’s words abruptly stopped. “What?” 

Obi-Wan was very still, his hands frozen on his belt. His nostrils flared, and his eyes were very intense. “You smell like preheat.”

Anakin shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t.” 

“You do, actually,” Obi-Wan said, his words coming out tight and controlled, but Anakin could sense a cresting wave of something like panic in the Force. 

It was the strength of the reaction in the Force that made Anakin pause. Holding eye contact, he smelled himself, and shook his head, not noticing anything different. 

“You do,” Obi-Wan repeated himself. “Did you—”

“But I can’t!” Anakin began to share Obi-Wan’s sense of panic. If he was telling the truth, and why would he lie about that, he must be able to tell… “I can’t!”

“Why not?” 

Anakin dropped his tools and stood up, running a hand through his hair and trying to calm down. He couldn’t go into heat now! He couldn’t! Obi-Wan was here and he couldn’t… Anakin swallowed down a whine of frustration. “Because it’s way too early.” 

Obi-Wan made a low, concerned noise. “It’s early?”

“Months early, Obi-Wan. Months!” Anakin smelled himself again, trying to check. Oh Force, he did. He actually did.

“How long until…”

“It hits and I turn into a… mess?” Anakin’s voice was strained. He turned and began to hastily pull on his boots, looking around for his cloak. “I need to talk to Kix.”

Obi-Wan still hadn’t moved from where he was paralyzed by the entrance to the tent, hands still on his belt. It was like he was a statue, or frozen in carbonite. “Do you want me to go with you?” 

“No?” Anakin laughed, feeling a little frantic. “Why would you?” 

There was a pause, and the sound of the rain falling on the plasto-canvas tent was very loud. Why would he? It wasn’t like he was his alpha. Obi-Wan sounded unhappy. “You shouldn’t go alone.” 

“The troopers are betas, and I barely smell like anything. They’ll ignore me.” 

Another loaded silence settled over the tent, and Anakin threw his still-damp cloak around his shoulders, shuddering at its weight and chill. Kriff, was he already feeling the fever? So quickly?

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan said carefully. “Because I’m free now, and…”

Anakin blushed despite himself at Obi-Wan’s persistence, and at the concern woven through every word. He pushed past Obi-Wan to the entrance, and muttered. “Fine, you can come.” 

Obi-Wan wordlessly pulled his wet cloak back around his shoulders and followed Anakin out into the rain. They made their way across the encampment to the medical tent in silence, and Anakin knew he was right, nobody even looked twice at him; everyone was concerned with getting their work done as quickly as possible and getting out of the storm. His scent was smothered in his cloak anyway, there was no reason he needed an escort.  

Obi-Wan remained close to his side, and steadied him once when he stepped in a puddle that turned out to be much deeper than he expected. Anakin felt a flush of heat at the contact, and then a wave of self-rebuke. It was incredibly, deeply unhelpful for him to get these crumbs of Obi-Wan acting like his alpha. It was almost painful—how pathetically grateful he felt despite himself, how safe he felt with him there. 

He shook off Obi-Wan’s hand with a terse thanks, and walked faster. He heard Obi-Wan sigh, and the concern that had been leaking out in the Force disappeared, masked away completely under Obi-Wan’s mental shields. Anakin’s stomach twisted with regret; he hadn’t even realized how much it had been there until it was gone. He missed it. He wanted it back. He could never ask for it.

Kix looked up from doing inventory as Anakin burst his way into the medical tent, unflappable as ever. Obi-Wan took up a post across the room, his arms crossed and Force presence muted. Anakin wiped the rain and sweat from his face and then dropped his wet cloak. He flushed as he smelled himself, hyperaware of the sweet, filthy scent that accompanied oncoming heat. 

Obi-Wan’s posture tensed even more, if that was possible, and Anakin ignored him as best he could. He let Kix ask diagnostic questions and run some scans, swiping some of his saliva and testing the sample. He read the results and frowned. “Have you had any indications lately that your suppressants were failing? Any unusual scent, any slick?”

Anakin blushed, and began to play with one of the buckles on his gloved hand, eyes fixed down. “Yes.”

“Did you report it? No,” Kix huffed at him, pointing at his incomplete records. “I didn’t know your suppressants were failing, General. I would have been able to prevent this, but…” He made a frustrated, apologetic face, and shrugged his shoulders.

Anakin mirrored the expression back, voice full of dread. “But what, Kix?”

“I could have prevented it, but now I can’t stop it.”

“I’m really just… going into heat?”

“Yes,” Kix confirmed. “You are, and very soon. Your hormone levels are actually concerning. You have hours, maybe, or even less than that with the rate it’s coming on. I’m impressed you caught it early enough to get here without falling down.”

Anakin blushed again, and he felt so warm. “Obi-Wan smelled it, before even I did.”

“Did he?” Kix looked over at Obi-Wan and then shrugged, as if it made sense. “I guess that’s due to his alpha sensitivity to the pheromones.”

Anakin couldn’t help but laugh, and Obi-Wan frowned at him. “What’s funny?” 

“Nothing,” Anakin said quickly, rubbing his face with both hands and trying to let it go. “Just the idea that you would be sensitive to the pheromones is funny to me. You’re so suppressed.”

“I’m not, actually,” Obi-Wan said, as if he was reporting the weather, not a world-shattering fact. 

“What?” Anakin gaped at him. “You don’t smell like…”

Obi-Wan had the audacity to shrug. “I’m wearing blockers, Anakin.”

“Why aren’t you suppressed?”

“After what…” He paused, clearly extremely uncomfortable. “The Nightsisters… what they did to me, the Temple healers haven’t had a chance to replace my implant, and don’t know if it is safe to do in the field. You’re not my Padawan anymore so it wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what, required?”

Obi-Wan nodded seriously, and it seemed like he was trying to reassure Anakin. “I’m a Jedi Master and can handle the quirks of my biology.” 

“Ah, so this is just…” Anakin swallowed. “The real you, huh.” 

“The real me?” Obi-Wan sounded nonplussed. 

“This is how you behave without suppressants.” 

“Did you imagine I’d act differently?” 

Anakin snorted. Did he imagine? Seriously? Did he imagine? “Yeah.”

“General?” Kix interrupted them, and held out a packet of pills. “All I have are these sedatives. It’s going to be a short, intense heat. So… if you don’t…” he looked between them, and then shrugged again. “Here’s a second option.”

Anakin grabbed them quickly and stood up. “Great, thank you, Kix. Bye.”

Kix shook his head, and returned to his inventory, muttering under his breath. Anakin shuddered again at the feeling of his damp cloak on his shoulders, and wiped his brow. He was starting to feel a little weak, and knew exactly what Kix had meant about walking without falling down. He was going to collapse when he got back to their tent, but he couldn’t before. He had to be strong. He had to make it there. If Obi-Wan carried him, his life would be over with sexual frustration. 

It couldn’t happen.

He marched as quickly and deliberately as possible across the camp, ignoring Obi-Wan and focusing entirely on each footstep, his mind fixated on reaching a dry, safe place. He was sweating, shaking, and felt just… awful. He basically tripped and fell through the tent entrance, heaving a massive sigh of relief and dropping down to sit on the ground. He began pulling off his boots and yanked his cloak off, letting it pool around him. Kriff, he smelled like sex.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said carefully, standing by the entrance and not removing his cloak. Oh, of course, he was leaving. Of course. Was he going to stand guard over him as he slept, or just go somewhere else? 

“Sorry, Master,” Anakin muttered, focusing on getting rid of wet socks, trying to telepathically wish Obi-Wan away. Just go. Just leave. Anakin would take the pills, pass out, wake up sweaty and disgusting and it would all be over. Like it never happened at all. He’d done this before, and he would do it again.

“Don’t apologize. It is…” Obi-Wan searched for a word. “Fine. I’m sorry too.”

Anakin frowned up at him, baffled and annoyed. “Why are you sorry?”

“That…” Obi-Wan shifted, looking like he was eating something sour for a moment before his face went blank again. “That you won’t be able to have Padmé take care of you. I imagine it’ll be hard not to have your alpha there for your heat.”

Anakin rolled his eyes with exasperation. “She’s not.”  

“Not what?” 

He gestured at his neck, tipping his head to the side and showing the unbroken skin to Obi-Wan. “She’s not my alpha.”

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, eyes on his neck, before his nostrils flared with a deep inhale—he immediately blinked and coughed uneasily. He turned back toward the entrance, his hand resting on fabric. “No, of course not openly, but…” His words sped up, and sounded almost rehearsed. “I know that it doesn’t mean that she’s not that in your heart, and that you would wish to be with her. I’m sorry that you won’t have that now.” 

He nodded once as though satisfied with his little speech, and pushed the door open, letting in a rush of cool, damp air—the breeze blew the faintest hint of his scent over to Anakin and made his mouth water. Obi-Wan was so invisible in the Force, and sounded supportive and neutral and kind, it all made Anakin want to scream. Just leave!  

“What the kriff do you know about my heart?”

Obi-Wan looked back at him with a frown. “What?” 

“Nothing!” Anakin huffed, biting his tongue. He withdrew further into the tent, needing to get away before he did something stupid like present to his alpha. He threw the packet of pills on his bed with a scowl. “Nothing.”

Obi-Wan sighed, and tried to smile at him, sending him a supportive nudge in the Force that made Anakin’s cock throb. “I’m sorry to have offended you, I just meant to support you. You don’t have to pretend around me.”

Anakin laughed at that, the sound entirely lacking humor. “Don’t I, Obi-Wan?”

A confused line appeared between Obi-Wan’s brows. “What does that mean?” 

“Nothing!” Anakin snarled, and pulled off his tunic and threw it on the floor, almost in challenge, daring Obi-Wan to go. He just felt far too hot. “It meant nothing.” 

Obi-Wan’s hand dropped from the door, and he sounded almost hurt. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that I support—”

“Yes, I do!” Anakin snapped, moving closer again without meaning to, pointing at Obi-Wan in accusation. “I do have to!”

“What?” Obi-Wan said defensively, eyes widening at his approach. “Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t like it!” Anakin came to a stop just out of arm's reach, and put his hands on his hips. He bit his bottom lip to stop it from pouting, glaring at Obi-Wan with all the fury of a preheat omega with a stupid alpha who didn’t even want them and should just kriffing leave .

Obi-Wan’s eyes were moving around his face, like Anakin’s expression was in a foreign language he couldn’t parse. “What wouldn’t I like?”

Anakin growled, and then rubbed his eyes, feeling suddenly close to tears. “Kriff, I hate you sometimes.”

“What? Why?” Obi-Wan sounded so hurt, but Anakin didn’t care. He felt hurt too, it was only fair.

“For you to just assume that I consider Padmé my alpha, that I would want her here, when—”

Obi-Wan cut him off, defensive and loud. “You smell like her! You’ve been seeing her in secret for years!” 

“Because I couldn’t do anything else!” Anakin matched his volume and gestured widely with his hands. “What do you want from me, Obi-Wan? Celibacy out of respect for your… propriety, or whatever? You’re not my Master anymore, you don’t get to judge me for what you make me do!” 

“I make you!?” Obi-Wan sounded offended, infuriated. “How in the Force do—” 

“You don’t want me!” Anakin yelled, and his face crumpled. He turned away, hands coming up to cover his expression, and he walked back toward his bed. He needed to pass out now, thank you. Pass out forever.

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked cautiously. 

Anakin sat down heavily on his bed, and picked up his tunic from the floor, wiping the sweat and tears from his face. He felt so hot, so hurt. “What’s confusing to you? You don’t want me, Obi-Wan. Padmé likes me… she wants me, she’s willing to take care of me. You never have.” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, stretching out each syllable forbiddingly.

Anakin waved him off, and picked up the packet of pills, playing with it anxiously. “I’ve never been in doubt about that, have no fear. You were very clear to me that you did not and would not want me. I remember how disgusting you found it when I nested in your room.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time. “I was disgusted at myself, not at you, Anakin. Never at you.”

“Why would you be disgusted with yourself for something I did?” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed. He sounded impossibly defeated, and pinched the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. “I was disgusted with myself because I wanted to… I wanted my 17-year-old Padawan learner. Do you understand how upsetting that was?” 

Anakin’s heartbeat stuttered, then began to race. He looked up, eyes wide. “You wanted me?” 

“Of course I wanted you.” Obi-Wan looked pained, like admitting the truth hurt him somehow. 

Anakin bit his lip to keep it from trembling, his emotions so unstable. “But I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you knew I wanted you, and thought I was disgusting.” 

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shook his head, and made an almost imploring face. “How would you feel if it were Ahsoka?”

“Oh,” Anakin said, dropping his gaze, trying to imagine how that would be. He felt a tiny sliver of horror, and flushed with shame. “I’m so sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was strained. “Don’t apologize for something that was outside of your control. I’m sorry I made you feel…” He shook his head again. “You’re not disgusting, Anakin. What you did was normal, it’s a normal part of human biological instincts for young omegas to imprint on authority figures, but…”

“But what?”

“That early imprinting is transient. It’s not right to take advantage of it because omegas grow up and prefer to find alphas closer to their own age—just like you did with Padmé. That’s… that’s how it goes.”

“So you thought, what, exactly?” Anakin frowned at him, trying to follow his stupid thought process. “That I grew up and decided Padmé was my alpha?”

Obi-Wan looked at him like he was stupid. “Anakin, you reeked of her scent.”

Anakin felt a ghost of Obi-Wan’s fingers rubbing come on his neck. He stood up, the packet of sedatives falling out of his hands to the floor. “Do you still want me, Master?”

“Why does it matter? You and Padmé—”

“Are nothing,” Anakin corrected him with satisfaction, drawing closer. “We hook up.” 

“But…” Obi-Wan was looking at him like he’d never seen him before. “I thought you might be leaving the Order with her after the war.”

Anakin huffed a derisive laugh, and came close enough to touch. He could see that Obi-Wan’s cheeks were red, his pupils blown. Did he want him? Did he still want him? “Why the kriff would you think that, Master? Have I ever suggested I wanted to be anything but a Jedi?”

“No, I suppose not, but, Anakin…” Obi-Wan flinched when Anakin put his hands on his chest, his breathing increasingly quick and shallow as Anakin opened his cloak and pushed it off his shoulders. “You smell like her, all the time.” 

Anakin leaned forward, putting his mouth next to Obi-Wan’s ear to whisper, “Does that bother you, alpha?”

Does that bother you, alpha? Obi-Wan shuddered as he felt Anakin’s hot breath on his skin—the sweet scent of Anakin’s sweat was surrounding him and he was drowning in it. His cock throbbed painfully at his proximity with his omega in heat. 

He meant to have left five minutes ago; he didn’t know what he was still doing there, but it was like he couldn’t move. The best he could manage in reply was a slightly strangled, “What?” 

“I remember,” Anakin said, his tone husky and intimate. He invaded Obi-Wan’s personal space more, the hand on his chest sliding up to rub the spot on Obi-Wan’s neck where his mating gland would be. “I remember above Dathomir, when you rubbed your come on my neck and told me I smelled better, like I was yours. Do you remember doing that, alpha?”

Alpha? He had to stop saying that, he didn’t understand how… Obi-Wan clenched his fists and let them go, trying to keep his hands off until he really understood what was going on. Anakin and Padmé weren’t… but… “I do remember, but Anakin, what are you—” 

“Do you think about it often?” Anakin cut him off, whispering again, his tone filthy. He playfully bit the lobe of Obi-Wan's ear, and then sucked on it. “Do you get off thinking about it?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan groaned, trying to pull back—his cock was so hard it was impossible to think. He tried to breathe, and only got more of the intoxicating, perfect scent of his omega in heat, and was that his slick?

Anakin pretended to look thoughtful. “Because I do.” 

“What?” Obi-Wan said weakly. He defensively lifted his hands to push Anakin back, but he hadn’t taken Anakin’s lack of tunic into account, so he laid his hands on the bare expanse of Anakin’s chest—his flushed skin was so soft, his muscles so strong, he was so handsome. 

Anakin made an encouraging noise at Obi-Wan’s touch, and pressed forward into his hands. Obi-Wan felt like he was hanging on to his control by the slenderest of margins; Anakin’s eyes were wide, and so dark with need. “It’s what I think about when I’m touching myself, alpha. I come on my fingers thinking about it—how it felt to be trapped under you, full of your knot, your teeth in my skin, Master, do you remember that?”

Obi-Wan groaned, his hands sliding up and tightening on Anakin’s shoulders. “Anakin…” 

Anakin leaned forward to rub his cheek on Obi-Wan’s beard for a moment, and he smelled so good. His voice was even more sultry and low, his eyes intent. “You said, ‘I imagine it’ll be hard not to have your alpha,’ and yes, it always has been, thank you for asking. Every single time. Because you haven’t been there.”

“But…” Obi-Wan stared at Anakin’s lips as he licked them, and looked back up into his eyes. “Even when…?”

Anakin rolled his eyes, and kissed him. It was oddly tender, a gentle and reassuring press of his soft lips. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath when he pulled back, and Anakin’s expression was full of so much affection that it was making Obi-Wan feel like he was back on some kind of drugs. 

Anakin shook his head fondly. “Why is this so confusing to you, Master? I built my first nest in your bedroom because you’re my alpha. You’ve always been my alpha. I didn’t just… switch alphas after Padmé and I hooked up. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, mind racing. Anakin still wanted him—had never stopped wanting him. He’d been a fool to miss it, but what else was new? Anakin wanted him, could he, could they? “I don’t think we can be together—” 

“I know,” Anakin cut him off, face crestfallen. “Okay.”

“—Publicly,” Obi-Wan finished his sentence deliberately.

Hope bloomed across Anakin’s face like a rising sun. “What?” 

“We can’t mate, Anakin. We can’t have… we can’t have kids. I can’t… I can’t mark you.”

Anakin nodded quickly, and then tilted his head back, offering Obi-Wan his neck anyway. “I know all that. That’s okay.” 

Obi-Wan swallowed, his eyes following the smooth, unmarked skin of Anakin’s flushed neck, and he savored the scent of him. This was all his. He could have this. It felt like a massive wall he’d built years ago out of the strongest material he knew just crumbled in his chest. He felt almost dizzy, almost high with relief. 

His voice came out much rougher and lower than it had been before. “Where is your nest, omega?” 

Anakin flushed scarlet with embarrassment. “You know I don’t have one, alpha.” 

Obi-Wan slid one hand around to the back of Anakin’s neck, squeezing slightly and making him whimper. “Come with me.” 

“Alpha,” Anakin whined, relaxing into his hold. He almost bonelessly allowed Obi-Wan to turn him around and walk him across the tent, and fell back easily when Obi-Wan pushed him down onto his bed. He sniffed Obi-Wan’s pillow, and then shuddered, looking up at him with so much desire. “Please, alpha?”

Obi-Wan felt pulled almost magnetically forward and followed him down, laying on top of him and crushing him into the mattress. Anakin hummed with satisfaction and wrapped his arms around his back, opening his legs so that Obi-Wan settled between them. Obi-Wan rolled his hips down, rubbing their cocks together, and Anakin moaned, “Master.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, pressing his nose to his neck and inhaling the rich, heady scent of him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, that he was able to. He licked where the scent was strongest and then kissed the spot he licked. “You smell so good to me, my darling. It drives me mad. It always has.”

“Really?” Anakin whined, rocking against him and holding him close. “You like it?”

Obi-Wan kissed him as a reply, and the kiss immediately transformed into something filthy. Anakin opened his mouth, inviting him in, and whined when Obi-Wan tasted him, licking between his lips and groaning at the perfect taste of him.

“Too many clothes,” Anakin panted, his cheeks so red, skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat. He smelled so good. “Fewer clothes, alpha.”

Obi-Wan kissed him in acknowledgment, and then slid off, quickly divesting himself of his boots, pants, tunics. The tent was full of the soft sounds of fabric hitting the floor, the rain increasing to a dull roar. Obi-Wan’s eyes were fixed on the way Anakin shimmied almost shyly out of his pants, and he groaned when he caught the scent of Anakin’s slick. 

“Open your legs,” Obi-Wan instructed roughly. “Show me.”

Anakin whined and obeyed, spreading his thighs, and there was a shine of slick, drawing his eye directly to the pink skin of his hole. Obi-Wan made a low, satisfied noise and kicked off his underclothes. He crawled between Anakin’s legs, spreading his thighs further apart, and pushing them back up toward Anakin’s shoulders. “Hold yourself open for me.”

“Yes, alpha,” Anakin whispered, and grabbed his legs, pulling them up and back. “Like that?”

“Perfect, darling,” Obi-Wan murmured, lifting his fingers and rubbing Anakin’s entrance with a mesmerized feeling. “I’ve thought about this so much.”

“Yeah?” Anakin whined when he rubbed with more pressure, his head dropping back heavily to the pillow. 

Obi-Wan leaned down and licked him, exploring the soft skin between Anakin’s legs, his balls, and then sucked on the head of his cock, and hummed with satisfaction. The slick was just like he’d remembered, as if he could ever forget it, and his precome tasted exactly right—his omega was so perfect. He pressed a finger inside Anakin’s tight, slick entrance, and hummed as Anakin’s hips rocked into the intrusion.

“Even your fingers are so thick,” Anakin said, voice soaked with pleasure. “You ruined my life with your cock, alpha.”

Obi-Wan pulled his mouth off Anakin’s cock to laugh, and pressed in a second finger, appreciating how his slick made it so easy, he was already almost ready. “How so, omega?” 

Anakin gasped and adjusted for a moment before pouting at him. “You’re so big, alpha, bigger than any of my…” his eyes fluttered for a moment when Obi-Wan curled his fingers, stroking deliberately. “Master, fuck, yes.”

“Bigger than what, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, and then curled his fingers again when he tried to talk.

Anakin moaned, hips rocking, and then pretended to scowl at him. “I had to buy a thicker toy to fuck myself with, alpha.”

Obi-Wan blinked at him, his fingers stalling for a moment. “You…”

“Yes,” Anakin bit his lip, and his eyes were so wide. It took several seconds for Obi-Wan’s mind to catch up, and then he growled and flipped Anakin onto his belly, sucking on his neck and rubbing his cock between his legs, teasing his hole and making Anakin whine and rock his hips back. 

Anakin’s voice was pitched with challenge and invitation in a way that made Obi-Wan’s cock throb. “Do you like that, alpha? That I was practicing for you? Thinking about you, fucking myself, hoping you would take me?”

Obi-Wan groaned and pulled his mouth away from Anakin’s neck with effort. This wasn’t going to work, there was no way he’d be good. He looked over to the pile of clothes on the floor, seeking a solution. He hummed and reached out, grabbing one of his tabards. 

“What are—” Anakin asked, twisting to look. “What’s—”

Obi-Wan deftly folded the long cloth in half twice into a long slender band, and then wrapped it around Anakin’s neck, surprising him into silence and tying it roughly so it couldn’t slide tighter but still covered his mating gland. He huffed with satisfaction. “There.”

Anakin went completely limp underneath him, and he tugged on the tie to gently turn his head to the side so he could make eye contact. Anakin’s eyes were hazy, his mouth open and wet. 

“That okay?”

“Yes, alpha,” Anakin whispered, and then looked at him with true desperation. “Fuck me. Fuck me, alpha, Master, Obi-Wan, please—”

Obi-Wan used his hold to Anakin’s face down to the pillow, holding him steady as he used his other hand to press the tip of his cock inside his slick hole.

“Alpha,” Anakin whined, his words muffled. He was so slick and open, Obi-Wan’s cock sank in slowly, and then all at once, with one long, smooth thrust of Obi-Wan’s hips fucking his entire cock inside Anakin’s slick, tight ass—he was so soft, so warm, so perfect.  

Obi-Wan groaned, and froze, crushing Anakin under him and letting him adjust to the sudden intrusion. He released his hold on his neck, and murmured gently, “Anakin?”

“Fuck me,” Anakin groaned, rolling his hips and spreading his legs, adjusting himself to take Obi-Wan’s cock easily. “Fuck me, now.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan laughed, and he rocked his hips experimentally, feeling for Anakin’s pain in the Force, but there was none. All he could sense was the desperation of his heat, and something else, a deep and complete sense of satisfaction at finally getting what he needed from his alpha. Yes, and please, and finally…

That incredulous sense of finally made Obi-Wan snap his hips forward harder, as if trying to prove that it was really happening. Anakin moaned loudly, and Obi-Wan felt lost, driving his hips down into him, fucking him down into his mattress, making him take it, stuffing him full. “My omega,” he said, his voice having become almost unrecognizably low and intent, driven by his unsuppressed human instinct to claim and own. “Mine.”

“Alpha, yes,” Anakin moaned back, taking his cock so well. “My alpha, always, forever.”

The words made Obi-Wan go still, and Anakin whined in complaint, and he whined again even louder when Obi-Wan pulled out. His panic leaked into the Force, and Obi-Wan tugged him around, looking intently at his face—he was blushing fiercely, embarrassed and shy. 

“Did you really say that?” Obi-Wan asked with fascination, his heart was pounding. He thought he’d made that up. “Before?” 

“What?” Anakin frowned at him, panting.

“Above Dathomir. You said that then too.”

Anakin bit his lip nervously, eyes darting sideways. “Yes, probably.” 

Obi-Wan groaned, and kissed him deeply. Anakin’s face was vulnerable when he pulled back, and Obi-Wan needed that insecurity to go away. “You asked earlier if I got off on rubbing come on your neck, and believe me, I did and I do, but what I think about mostly is how you sounded saying that.”

Anakin’s eyes were wide. “My alpha, always, forever?”

Obi-Wan groaned again, and he slid down Anakin’s body, using his nose to find a scent gland on Anakin’s inner thigh. He bit down hard enough to scar, digging teeth into his skin, marking him where he could. His instincts were insisting; he had to, he needed to.

Anakin’s back arched, and he moaned loudly with a combination of pleasure and pain. “Master!”

Obi-Wan kissed the skin he’d bitten apologetically, and then rose to his knees, pulling Anakin’s legs up and throwing his feet over his shoulders. He grabbed Anakin’s hips, lined up his cock, and then he thrust inside at the same time as he pulled Anakin back onto his cock, filling him up all at once. 

Anakin moaned like the star of a dirty Holovid, and they made eye contact, both laughing at the stereotypical sound. Anakin’s eyes were so bright, so full of adoration, Obi-Wan couldn’t do anything but fuck him, pulling back and then snapping his hips forward, making Anakin’s eyes roll back as he moaned again. 

Obi-Wan began to fuck him more and more roughly, their hips slapping together as he pounded his cock inside, his hands squeezing brusies in his hips. Anakin’s pleasure in the Force was the most addictive thing Obi-Wan had ever felt, and Anakin liked this more than he’d ever felt Anakin like anything.  

Words slipped out of his mouth, intent and low. “Take it, omega, take your alpha’s cock.” He stood corrected, Obi-Wan thought, amused, as Anakin’s pleasure only crested higher in the Force. “Are you going to come on my cock, Anakin?”

“Please, yes,” Anakin whined, his hands gripping the blanket tightly. “Please.”

“Touch yourself,” Obi-Wan ordered, and Anakin’s hand jumped to his cock. “You take it so well, darling, so perfect for me.”

“Knot me,” Anakin gasped, his orgasm getting close. “Knot me, alpha.”

Obi-Wan slowed down his thrusts, making each one slow and emphatic. “You want my knot?”

“Please, Master, yes, please.” Anakin groaned loudly as Obi-Wan deliberately stroked his cock against his prostate, and then he pulled his hand off his cock, begging, “Let me come on your knot, please, alpha.”

Obi-Wan pretended to deliberate about it, as he felt the beginning of his knot beginning to swell. “Do you deserve it? Have you been a good boy for me, omega?”

“Always,” Anakin panted, and blinked up at him earnestly. “Forever.”

Obi-Wan felt a smile spread across his face, a real smile, that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Correct answer, darling.”

Anakin made an almost pained noise, and nearly came. “Don’t do that,” he gasped indignantly, and then laughed. “That’s not fair.”

Obi-Wan laughed too, and pulled out, not wanting to knot him in this position. He looked down thoughtfully at Anakin stretched out beneath him for a second, making the choice. His cock ached and throbbed, and he needed to get it back inside, immediately.

He lay down on his side, and pulled Anakin closer, spooning him from behind. Anakin began rocking his hips back to get his cock inside, so needy. “Knot me, now, please!”

“Patience,” Obi-Wan murmured in his ear. He grabbed Anakin’s top leg, bending the knee and folding it up to his chest, opening up his hole. He lined his cock back up and pressed it inside slowly, sinking in deeper and deeper, filling him up.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin groaned, taking his cock so well—so slick and open. “Yes.”

Obi-Wan nosed at the tie around Anakin’s neck and then sucked on his shoulder instead as he began to fuck him, slowly and deliberately. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, words spilling out without thought. “My omega, smell so good, going to fill you up with my come, keep you full.” He wrapped his hand around and began gently stroking Anakin’s cock, pushing him closer to the edge. “Mine.”

“Yes, yours, please, yes,” Anakin whined. “I love you, Master.”

Obi-Wan slammed his cock inside and came hard, groaning and biting down on Anakin’s shoulder. He felt his knot swell and lock him inside Anakin’s tight body, pumping him full of come. The pleasure was a wave, flooding his brain and making him shudder and tremble with it. It sparkled down his spine, and he felt drunk with pleasure.

He realized he was feeling feedback in the Force from Anakin coming on his knot, the tent filled with the fresh scent of his come. Obi-Wan wrapped him in his arms and crushed him to his chest in a hug, holding him close in person and in the Force, until they felt like one. “I love you too, Anakin.” 

There was a sharp inhalation, and Anakin twisted to look at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Really?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said gently, and smiled.

“Master,” Anakin whispered, his eyes becoming bright with tears. “I love you so much. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I thought I couldn’t. I didn’t think you wanted me to love you.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan kissed him again, and didn’t stop, as another smaller orgasm rushed through him, his cock twitching inside Anakin as he spilled more come. They kissed almost lazily as long as Obi-Wan’s knot was full, entangled in each other’s bodies and in the Force. 

It was perfect.

After that point, their bond only grew stronger, becoming a stable and bright mesh in the Force over time. It became so strong with their shared trust that Anakin stopped having nightmares, and never felt any real temptation of falling to the dark side. When Palpatine was unmasked, and tried to attack Obi-Wan, there was no question of loyalties. 

Darth Sidious fell, and peace returned quickly to the galaxy. 

They lived a long, happy life together as Jedi Masters, often assigned out together as the Team, their legend only growing with every success. They helped each other with everything, from missions to Padawans, and became teachers and respected elders, leading the Order together, until they each passed into the Force of old age, where they were together and united, always and forever.