As Anakin arrived at Mr. Yoda’s Comics on his motorcycle, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, Obi-Wan would be there again.
It had been more than two months since Obi-Wan had been at the tables in the back, playing or running a game, where he should be, in Anakin’s humble opinion. Obi-Wan loved Dungeons & Dragons, and knew almost everything there was to know about it. For the last decade, at least, he’d been there almost every evening, teaching Anakin, playing with Anakin, being Dungeon Master for Anakin and their friends.
Why had he disappeared? Why was he ignoring Anakin’s calls!?
He wondered for the millionth time if Satine had finally put her foot down about how much time Obi-Wan spent at Yoda’s. He’d suspected before that she’d been annoyed, and she’d never really warmed up to Anakin, but she hadn’t ever asked Obi-Wan to stop playing before either, so it probably wasn’t that, but what else could it be? What could possibly make him stop playing?
Anakin parked his bike and killed the ignition, taking a moment to get himself together. He’d been working hard at his new job, running himself ragged what felt like seven days a week to keep up with Mr. Palpatine’s high expectations for productivity and to still be able to play D&D. He just refused to quit playing, despite considerable pressure to do so. He was basically living at work and at Yoda’s, barely sleeping and barely eating. He missed Obi-Wan, he needed him.
This was definitely the longest he’d gone without seeing him since he was ten and his great uncle Qui-Gon had died. Obi-Wan, a stepson of Qui-Gon’s that Anakin hadn’t even known about, had taken over his promise to teach Anakin to play, and had ended up becoming his mentor and friend all through school.
He’d taught Anakin so much more than D&D too—how to ride a bike, how to swim, how to drive, and how to write code. He’d bailed him out of jail when he’d gotten into a fight after his mom died, helped with college applications, and gotten him an internship. He was Anakin’s best friend, and Anakin’s life had just stopped making sense without Obi-Wan in it.
Anakin pushed the door of the shop open, causing the familiar bell to tinkle. He craned his neck to see past the shelves of collected editions, rows of boxes of loose comics, and a frankly disturbing number of Funko Pops, trying to catch a glimpse of the back of the room. He felt a rush of familiar disappointment—Obi-Wan still wasn’t there. Why? Why wasn’t he there? He should be there!
“Hey, Skyguy!”
Ahsoka’s voice was too loud in his ear, and Anakin turned to face her with an annoyed wince. She just grinned even wider.
“Hi, Snips,” Anakin huffed, punching her shoulder lightly and beginning to walk towards the tables in the back. He crushed his disappointment and exhaustion viciously inside, and put a smile on his face for Ahsoka’s sake.
In order to play D&D at Mr. Yoda’s while under sixteen, you had to have an adult buddy, and Anakin had been Ahsoka’s ‘big brother’ for several years. Just like Obi-Wan had been his. He was grateful that Mr. Yoda had put them together, and felt a bit wistful. This was the last time—Ahsoka wouldn’t technically need a buddy after this week. He hoped they would keep playing together anyway.
He unzipped his messenger bag and handed over a new set of metal dice that shimmered like spilled gasoline, and she gasped excitedly. “Happy early birthday.”
“Thanks!” Ahsoka beamed, holding the dice up to the light to appreciate the colors and tagging alongside him. “I want to get my driver’s license on Friday. I don’t have a car, though. Can I use yours? Please?”
Anakin barked a laugh, pausing to look at the new releases until Ahsoka grabbed his arm to tug him along. She was pouting and looking at him with puppy eyes, and he scoffed. “You learned in Obi-Wan’s automatic. Can you even drive a manual?”
“Oh, right.” Her shoulders dropped a little in disappointment, and she tugged on the tips of her blue and white braids. “I probably can’t learn before Friday either.” She pulled out her chair at the gaming table, grumbling. “I wish Obi-Wan were here.”
Anakin shrugged out of his leather jacket and dropped his bag on the floor, sitting down heavily next to her. He looked longingly at the head of the table, and then sighed. “Me too, Snips, me too.”
“Why did he stop coming?” Ahsoka asked, sounding wounded. “I wanted him to be here.”
“I don’t know, Ahsoka.” Anakin’s lower lip jutted out slightly before he noticed and relaxed his face, fixing his expression to something more neutral. He pulled his character sheet and dice out of his backpack and set them down gently on the table, controlling his tone to sound casual. “He didn’t tell me.” Ahsoka didn’t look fooled by his act, and he felt his cheeks warm. “You know he just stopped coming after I graduated and the internship he got me at TempleTech ended. He hasn’t even answered any of my texts. It’s like he’s dead.”
“I know,” Ahsoka sighed, and bumped into him with her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, big brother. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”
“Thanks, little sister.”
Ahsoka wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m not that little.”
They both sat up straight at the familiar sound of a cane hitting the linoleum floor. The small form of Mr. Yoda moved down the aisle towards them, leaning on his walking stick but looking mischievous and spry as ever. He spoke, his accent familiar and thick, his speech patterns lingering from his native Warao and making his words fall out of the usual English sequence. “Filling in for Obi-Wan again, I am.”
“Is he coming back?” Anakin asked before he could stop himself. “Or are you going to finish the campaign?”
“Know this, I do not,” Mr. Yoda shrugged, and hopped onto the chair at the head of the table. He hummed and began setting up the DM screen with care. “Up to Obi-Wan, it is.”
“You’ve talked to him?” Ahsoka’s voice was full of needy curiosity, and Anakin swallowed, grateful that she was asking. “You’ve heard from him?”
“I have, yes,” Mr. Yoda nodded. He finished arranging his books and dice, and looked around the table expectantly. “On who else, are we waiting?”
Anakin followed his glance around. Kit Fisto was pulling out his dice, and Nahdar Vebb, his own ‘little brother,’ was clicking a pen and looking slightly bored. A tattooed woman with a shaved head dropped dramatically into a seat just before they were scheduled to begin, as usual.
Anakin frowned at the empty space next to her, “Ventress, where’s Quin?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “And why should I know?”
“Because he’s your boyfriend, and you usually carpool?” Anakin rolled his eyes and turned back toward the head of the table. “We can start, Mr. Yoda. Quinlan may or may not show up.”
Mr. Yoda nodded sagely, and turned his attention to his book, humming thoughtfully. The table grew quiet with anticipation, the bustling sounds of other tables falling away. Anakin felt a swell of relief—D&D had long been his safe place, the only time when the world made sense, and he was free to be himself. The cares of daily life slid away, except for the absence of Obi-Wan, which ached persistently, like a sore tooth he couldn’t help but worry over and over.
“A dexterity check from all of you, need this, I do.”
“Yikes,” Ahsoka muttered, rolling her new d20. “What a way to start.”
Anakin laughed, reaching for his own dice. “Gotta stay on your toes, Snips.”
She scowled at the number one staring up at her, and gave Anakin a playful glare. “You gave me defective dice.”
“Hmmm,” Anakin snagged the d20 and rolled it, grinning at his 17. “Are you sure it isn’t just you?”
“Don’t touch my dice! How rude!” She snatched it back and stuck out her tongue as the table all reported their rolls to the DM.
“Passed, have all of you, except…” Mr. Yoda spoke gleefully. “Into a pit, young Ahsoka, do you fall. Spikes, there are. Double damage, you will take.”
“Ugh,” Ahsoka grumbled, grabbing her pencil to update her hit points. “But it’s my birthday!”
“Care about this, the spikes do not!”
The game went by quickly after that, and before Anakin knew it, several hours had passed and the session was over. They’d made substantial progress in the dungeon, but had spent far too long trying to figure out a trapped door without Quinlan’s rogue and didn’t finish. It was fun, but it would have been so much more fun with Obi-Wan as DM.
The table broke up, everyone chatting and packing their bags. Mr. Yoda waved Anakin closer. “Stay here for a moment, you must.”
“Alright,” Anakin said, returning Ahsoka’s excited wave goodbye. “What’s up, Mr. Yoda?”
“A task for you, I have.”
Anakin knew he should probably have waited until tomorrow to go. His mother’s voice whispered in his memory, instructing that it was rude to call or visit anyone after nine, but Obi-Wan wasn’t just anyone, and Anakin was desperately curious at the unexpected address that Mr. Yoda had given him. He had to go.
He pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex Google Maps insisted was the right one. It was shabby and plain, not at all like Obi-Wan’s nice brick house with a wide green lawn in the Coruscant District. What the hell was he doing in Lower Tatooine? Doesn’t he know the crime rates? He’s going to get robbed and murdered like…
Anakin shook his head and jogged up the stairs to the second floor, and wandered down the grungy hallway, looking for Obi-Wan’s apartment. He checked his watch, proud that he’d made the trip across sprawling Galactic City in only 30 minutes, and it was still before ten. Rude, but not really that rude. He knocked, his heart in his throat.
After a long moment, the door opened a sliver, and there he was.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, the confused frown leaving his face as it swiftly went blank, and the door did not open any wider.
Anakin reflexively smiled, it was so nice to see his face and hear the way his familiar, crisp accent shaped the sound of his name. “Hi, Obi-Wan!”
“What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan’s tone was flat, his face still neutral. “How did you get this address?”
Anakin’s smile slipped. He held up a paper bag. “Mr. Yoda asked me to deliver these. He said you hadn’t been coming in to get your pull list, and he’s worried about you.”
Obi-Wan opened the door wide enough to accept the bag of comics, his words coming out slow and dubious. “He’s worried about me.”
“Yes.” Anakin looked Obi-Wan up and down, taking in his slightly scruffy beard, which was shot through with more gray than he remembered, his uncharacteristically shaggy hair, his faded t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Anakin looked away from those very quickly, back up to meet cool blue eyes. “I’m worried about you too.”
“No need, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was crisp. “Thanks for dropping these off. Tell Mr. Yoda thank you, and that in the future, mailing them is fine, like we’d discussed.”
He began to shut the door, and Anakin felt a swell of despair. “Obi-Wan, wait!”
Obi-Wan paused, looking at him, his expression both expectant and frosty.
Anakin rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his stomach churning with nerves. “Are you… are you going to come back? Or is Yoda taking over the game permanently?”
“I don’t know, Anakin. We’ll see.” He tried to close the door again. “Goodnight.”
“Wait!” Anakin stepped forward, almost begging. He blushed at his tone, at how desperate he sounded, but he didn’t care.
Obi-Wan’s patience seemed to be evaporating. “What, Anakin?”
Anakin spoke quickly. “Don’t… don’t just close the door on me, Obi-Wan. I… Where have you been? I’ve wondered so much. You’re never around anymore.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why?”
Obi-Wan sighed loudly in exasperation. “Personal reasons, Anakin. Drop it. Thank you for the comics.”
Anakin tried hard to keep his voice from trembling. “Why are you acting so different? Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like... You hate me. What did I do?”
Obi-Wan gave him a repressive look. “Nothing.”
“I know you, you’re lying to me. What did I do?”
“Nothing!” Obi-Wan snapped, his grip tightening on the bag of comics and making it crinkle. “You did nothing. This is not about you. Not everything is about you!”
Anakin’s eyes felt hot, and his shoulders dropped. Obi-Wan had been annoyed with him before, even angry, over the last decade, but it had never sounded quite like this. “Okay. Sorry.”
Obi-Wan made an aggrieved noise, as if this was the last thing he needed. “Anakin.”
Anakin winced and ducked his head, scuffing his boot on the threadbare carpet. “I’m sorry. I miss you. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He felt sick to his stomach, beaten back, unwanted. Obi-Wan was his best friend, had been his best friend, and Anakin loved him more than anything and… and Obi-Wan hated him now, and he didn’t know why.
“Anakin, just…” Obi-Wan sighed, sounding defeated. “Fine. Come in.” He opened the door wider and turned away, rubbing a hand down his face.
Anakin hastened forward, stepping inside and looking around incredulously. Obi-Wan’s small apartment was full of unopened moving boxes and open suitcases. There were stacks of paper and overflowing files everywhere. A small table was tucked in the entryway to the kitchen, only large enough for two chairs, and it was half covered in old junk mail. It was clear that Obi-Wan was here alone, and had no visitors. It was a mess, and Obi-Wan had never, ever been a mess before. Something was wrong, so deeply wrong that it ached.
Obi-Wan tossed the bag of comics on the kitchen counter, and his reflexive hospitality seemed to kick in, his tone flat and rote. “Have a seat. Do you want something to drink? I have water or iced tea.”
“Water is fine.”
“Fine.” Obi-Wan filled a glass of water and set it down on the table. He then turned and opened the mostly empty refrigerator and pulled out a green bottle of cheap beer for himself.
“I’m old enough to drink, you know,” Anakin grumbled, a feeble imitation of their usual banter. “Coulda offered me a beer.”
Obi-Wan did not banter back. His voice was firm, and not joking. “You’re going to be driving soon.”
“Am I?” Anakin shrugged off his heavy, black motorcycle jacket, and hung it defiantly on the back of the chair before sitting down. He studied Obi-Wan’s frown, and felt a swell of determination on top of all the swirling hurt. “What’s going on, Obi-Wan? Why the hell are you in Tatooine? Why are you hiding?”
“This is where I live now.” Obi-Wan twisted off the cap of his beer and tossed it in the trash, taking a long drink, evading Anakin’s eyes. “I’m not hiding.” He set the bottle on the counter with a click, folded his arms across his chest, and failed to elaborate.
Anakin scowled. “Yes, you are. Mr. Yoda said you were going through a tough time and that he’s worried about you. I’m worried about you too!”
“You’re worried about me.” Obi-Wan repeated like it was the most bullshit thing he’d ever heard.
“I am!”
Obi-Wan’s frown sharpened into a glare, and all at once, it was like a torrent of resentment cracked through the dam of his usual self-control. His voice did not rise in volume, but in intensity. “I got fired, Anakin. Imperial Systems, the company you chose to work for, did a hostile takeover of TempleTech, acquired our patents, everyone got fired, and—”
“Everyone?” Anakin’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“—You helped. Don’t you see why Palpatine headhunted you? You broke your NDA, Anakin! You left after your internship, got TempleTech acquired, and everyone got fired.”
“I didn’t know,” Anakin said weakly, breathless and overwhelmed. This was so much bigger, so much worse than he’d ever imagined. “I didn’t…”
Obi-Wan gave him an unimpressed look, his tone waspish. “Nice of you to notice.”
“I was…” Anakin swallowed, his heart pounding, looking blindly down at the table. “I’ve been working on a big project. I just thought it was taking a while.”
“What was taking a while?”
Anakin looked up at him earnestly. “I didn’t know you’d get fired, Obi-Wan! Mr. Palpatine said the acquisition was already happening. I wanted to work with you. I thought we would be working together.”
“You were wrong, Anakin. He lied to you.”
“Oh.” Anakin reached out and toyed with his glass, feeling a crushing amount of guilt. The silence stretched awkwardly, the sound of traffic on the road outside becoming very loud. The fluorescent kitchen lights were far too bright, the summer air too hot in his lungs. It felt like he was on fire, like he was burning up.
He took a drink of water and desperately changed the subject away from his stupidity. “But… why aren’t you at your house?” He looked around, at the bare walls and unpacked boxes. “Where’s Satine?”
Obi-Wan took an unsteady breath, his tone tight. “We’re getting divorced, and we’re selling the house.”
“Selling?” Anakin felt clobbered in the back of the head. “Divorced?” No wonder Mr. Yoda was so worried. How was this even possible? Obi-Wan didn’t deserve this.
“Yes, she divorced me. Do you understand now? I got fired and divorced, and we are selling the house. That is why I’m here, and I don’t want to talk about it with you.” He gestured at the door. “Thank you for visiting, you may leave now.”
Anakin ignored that and looked around at the mess, his mind churning through all the memories of interactions he’d seen between Obi-Wan and Satine, trying to understand. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why did you get divorced? You were…” Anakin shook his head, coming up blank, unable to think of any signs of serious trouble. “You guys were happy. How could—” Obi-Wan laughed, and it was the bleakest sound Anakin had ever heard him make. It was like a kick in the gut, or a knife in the back. “What happened, Obi-Wan? Why won’t you just tell me what’s really going on?”
“Because… because I don’t want to have this conversation, Anakin. I don’t know how to. It’s none of your business!”
“But…” Anakin bit his lip to try to prevent his hurt from showing on his face. “Why is it none of my business? Aren’t we…” His voice grew smaller. “I thought we were friends.”
The mirthless laugh returned. “Why the hell do you think I got divorced, Anakin?”
“Because… because you played Dungeons & Dragons five nights a week?” It was the only thing he could think of—it was the reason Padmé had left him, after all—but he knew Satine had often worked evenings at the hospital, so it hadn’t mattered in the past, and he didn’t know why that would have changed. How could anyone leave Obi-Wan, ever? He was perfect.
“Well... yes, I’m certain that was part of it. But that’s not actually the reason she gave!” The bitter tang of Obi-Wan’s words made Anakin’s skin crawl.
“She gave? It really wasn’t... it wasn’t mutual?”
“No,” Obi-Wan said quietly, all the fight going out of him. “It was not mutual.” He slumped back against the counter, taking another long drink of his beer. It was clear that he was hurting badly, and it made Anakin’s chest ache, his hands balling into fists.
He stood up, making Obi-Wan’s eyes flash in warning. He ignored that, feeling pulled forward by the need to be closer, to provide any comfort he could. “What was the reason, Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan looked down at the floor, avoiding Anakin’s gaze, and began picking at the label of his beer. “Does it matter?”
Anakin stopped directly in front of him, crossing his arms and studying his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. He made his voice gentle and quiet. “It matters to you; it matters to me.”
“It shouldn’t.” Obi-Wan murmured. “Just let me deal with this, alright?”
“You’re not dealing, Obi-Wan.” Anakin gestured around the apartment. “This doesn’t look like dealing.” Obi-Wan bowed his head, a silent acknowledgment. Anakin laughed nervously, an idea flooding through him that filled him with horror. “Is… Is this my fault too?”
Obi-Wan shook his head, and shrunk in on himself more. “It’s not your fault. You did nothing. I… It’s mine. My fault.” Anakin stared at him until he continued unwillingly. “She said… I talk in my sleep, apparently.”
Anakin blinked and tipped his head to the side at the non sequitur. “So?”
Obi-Wan grimaced. “It’s not the talking, it’s what was said.”
“Did you say you hate her or something?”
“No,” Obi-Wan said, his tone hushed and filled with guilt. Anakin leaned closer to hear him, and Obi-Wan leaned back and away. “It wasn’t about her. That was the problem, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flicked up from Anakin’s boots, sliding up his body, to his face, finally making solid eye contact. “What I said apparently wasn’t about her. It was all about you.”
Anakin’s head rocked back in surprise, his heart stopping and then beginning to pound. “Me?”
Obi-Wan talked about him in his sleep? The mental image of Obi-Wan—soft and relaxed in bed with Anakin’s name on his lips—flashed in his mind, and he felt a spike of unexpected desire, the molten heat of it almost making him dizzy.
Obi-Wan clenched and unclenched his jaw, eyes sliding to look past Anakin’s burning face toward the far wall. “Yes, apparently. I obviously don’t know for sure, but... I wouldn’t be surprised. You show up in my dreams all the time.” The bitter tang was back, but Anakin ignored it.
“You mean…” He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t let himself understand. He felt his cock throbbing and thickening anyway. Was he really saying, did he really mean, but, he didn’t, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. “Obi-Wan, when you say dreams... it wasn’t nightmares, was it?”
“No, not nightmares.” Obi-Wan laughed without humor, his cheeks flushing red. “Nightmares probably would have been fine, in terms of my marriage.”
“What did you even say, Obi-Wan?”
“I said... I apparently said your name, rather frequently. And that I... that I…” Obi-Wan swallowed and continued, sounding evasive. “That I care for you.”
Anakin inhaled sharply, and leaned closer, realizing that he was almost looming over Obi-Wan in his own kitchen, but too desperately curious to care. “What?”
Obi-Wan shrugged, his jaw tight, clearly getting uncomfortable with Anakin’s ever increasing proximity. “That’s what she says. That’s what she told the lawyer, anyway. That’s why I got divorced. So I’ve been dealing with that, alright?”
Anakin just couldn’t believe it. He’d made himself give up his crush on Obi-Wan in his teens, pushed it away—knew it was wrong. He’d made himself move on, he’d been so sure that Obi-Wan would never return any feeling except platonic, familial affection, but he must’ve dreamed about fucking him, had thought about it, imagined it, wanted it, if he really...
“Do... do you, though? Care about me?” Anakin’s breath was coming quick and shallow; he felt almost panicked—his cock was probably getting noticeably hard in his jeans.
“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan replied unwillingly and looked at him like a cornered animal, growing desperate to escape. Anakin couldn’t let him, he needed to hear the truth. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Are you kidding me, Obi-Wan?” Anakin grasped him gently on the shoulders, peering into his eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Obi-Wan snarled and pushed him back, his stillness exploding into a burst of activity. He spun Anakin around and walked him back to his chair, seating him back down roughly. He then recoiled like he’d been burned, withdrawing to the other side of the kitchen looking haunted.
Anakin wanted to chase after him, but he also felt unexpectedly flushed at the idea of staying wherever Obi-Wan had put him. He’d touched him, put his hands on him, his shoulder was burning with the memory of pressure. He had to actively resist pressing the heel of his hand on his cock for relief.
Obi-Wan began to pace anxiously on the other side of the small kitchen. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just... It’s complicated, Anakin!”
Anakin watched him move, his eyes falling on gray sweatpants, letting himself look for the line of Obi-Wan’s cock. He felt so hot, so shaken by the impossibility of it, that his voice came out only slightly sullen. “It’s really not complicated. You do or you don’t.”
“I love my wife, Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s volume increased, cracking at Anakin like a whip. “I loved her! I didn’t mean to love you too, to want you more! I didn’t ask to!”
Love you too. Want you more.
The words echoed in Anakin’s mind for a long moment, the kitchen’s silence pregnant with tension. Obi-Wan had stopped still and was breathing hard, looking stricken at what he’d said. Anakin was staring at him, his mouth open—want you more.
An almost uncomfortably strong wave of arousal made him feel lightheaded as all the blood left his brain, and he struggled to remember what was important. Obi-Wan’s furious tone finally registered, and his heart sank. “So you actually do blame me then? For the divorce?”
“No!” Obi-Wan said emphatically, fists clenched, his knuckles white. “I don’t blame you! You did nothing. I blame me, Anakin. I’m… I’m some kind of… I’m a bad person, perverted, wrong. She was right to leave!”
Anakin frowned at that. “That’s not true.”
Obi-Wan growled in frustration and made a hand gesture indicating the height of a child. “I’ve known you well since you were ten! You’re supposed to be my little brother. I’m positive that you were! I don’t know when it changed, and that scares me! I’m…” He flinched as though struck. “I was married, I’m so much older than you, I basically raised you. I shouldn’t think about you the way I do. Don’t you see why?”
Anakin stood up, feeling compelled to demonstrate the difference between his current height and the height of Obi-Wan’s hand. He took a cautious step forward. “When did the dreams even start, did she tell you?”
Both of Obi-Wan’s hands came up in a warding off gesture. “Years ago, Anakin. She said it was years.”
“More or less than four?”
“I don’t know.”
Anakin scoffed and moved forward again. “She wouldn’t have put up with it for that long, Obi-Wan. It started when I was in college. You started after I grew up! You haven’t done anything wrong!”
Obi-Wan shook his head, stepped backward and ran into the counter, frowning. “College is still far, far too young for me, Anakin.”
“I graduated.”
“I know. It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head again more vehemently and spoke over Anakin’s attempt at an interruption. “You should be with people your own age!”
“But…” Anakin pushed back into his personal space, needing Obi-Wan to listen to him. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you! I love you!”
Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared, and his lips pressed together into a thin line. “You shouldn’t. It’s much better for you if you don’t. You really don’t understand.”
Anakin rolled his eyes. “I think I understand fine.”
“You don’t. Even the way I want you is wrong, Anakin. I want…” Obi-Wan’s voice was choked. His cheeks and neck were flushed impossibly red, his pupils blown. “I want such bad things, Anakin. Abusive things. You should stay away from me. I can’t say…“
“Can’t say what?” Anakin swallowed, his mouth feeling wet, his mind churning with imagined scenes. “Rough sex doesn’t scare me, Obi-Wan.” Scared is definitely not the word he would use.
“It should.”
“But what if…” Anakin really let himself imagine it, and bit his lip, swallowing a small moan. Obi-Wan’s eyes fixed on his mouth before flicking away. “What if I want it, Obi-Wan.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Obi-Wan’s tone was icy, low, and frustrated—laced with warning.
“Then tell me!”
“Stop it! Stop pushing me!” Obi-Wan glared at him, and the raw emotion of it was almost intoxicating. “You really want me to tie you up, hold you down, hurt you?” He stepped forward, almost unconsciously, getting in Anakin’s face. “You want me to force you to your knees, gag you with my cock until you cry?”
“Oh,” Anakin breathed, a lightning bolt of arousal streaking down his spine, his cock aching almost painfully as precome leaked from the tip. He put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder to stabilize himself, and almost fell forward when Obi-Wan shrugged him off and pushed past him.
“It’s not nice, Anakin. My dreams are rarely nice. I want to punish you and it scares me.”
Anakin turned, taking up Obi-Wan’s position leaning against the counter, his hand squeezing his cock once before Obi-Wan turned back around. His voice was breathy, almost laughably aroused sounding. “Punish me?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes were flicking from Anakin’s flushed face to his clearly visible cock, his tone pained and incredulous. “I want to hurt you! I dream about hurting you! That’s not normal or okay! Why are you…”
Anakin licked his lips, staring at the increasingly visible outline of Obi-Wan’s thick cock in his gray sweatpants. He looked so big. “It’s okay, it’s good.”
“What?” Obi-Wan said weakly, his eyes drawn again and again to Anakin’s erection.
“People do it, Obi-Wan. I’ve seen… I like to watch it…” He couldn’t stand only having Obi-Wan’s eyes on him for another moment and he palmed his cock, desperate for contact.
Obi-Wan squawked, indignant, and reached forward, grabbing his wrist with a white-knuckle grip and yanking it away. “Just because it’s in porn doesn’t mean it’s okay for us to do!”
“But…” Anakin whimpered at the aching strength of Obi-Wan’s fingers wrapped around his arm. “Why not?”
Obi-Wan shook him slightly, his voice so impossibly rough and low. “Anakin, you’re my little brother. You were my little brother. It’s wrong. This is wrong.”
Anakin used Obi-Wan’s grip to tug him closer, until they were centimeters apart. He whispered against his mouth, “I want it. You're not bad.”
“I must be,” Obi-Wan whispered back, heartbreak and resignation in his eyes for a moment before they slid closed and reopened with intent. Anakin tugged him forward again and he didn’t resist, letting their lips finally, finally meet in a kiss.
That kiss stayed chaste for several heartbeats and then almost immediately became something filthy. Anakin whimpered and opened his mouth, inviting Obi-Wan inside, sucking on his tongue and making Obi-Wan groan. His grip on Anakin’s wrist loosened and dropped, both of his hands sinking into Anakin’s messy hair, grabbing and tugging, holding his head firmly in place as he licked deep into his mouth.
Anakin relaxed into Obi-Wan’s hold and wrapped his arms around his back, pulling his body closer until their hips crashed together and their hard cocks rubbed against each other through the layers of clothing. He whined and rolled his hips forward, dragging his length against Obi-Wan, feeling more precome spill into his pants.
Obi-Wan gasped and pulled his head away, eyes flicking rapidly between Anakin’s, seeming to be searching for something. One of his hands slid forward to cup Anakin’s jaw, his thumb rubbing on his cheekbone, and Anakin pressed his head into his hand as best he could, tugging against Obi-Wan’s grip on his hair and whining quietly.
Obi-Wan murmured, “You want it? You really want this?”
“Do it,” Anakin whispered back, feeling as though he were standing on the edge of a cliff, the impossible desire to jump pulling him forward. “Fuck, Obi-Wan, do it.”
Obi-Wan nodded, almost solemn, and then a wicked gleam came into his eyes. He yanked Anakin forward away from the counter by the hair, pulling him down and forcing him to his knees.
Anakin dropped easily, his heart pounding. He blinked quickly, staring directly at the outline of Obi-Wan's hard cock. He licked his lips, and breathed, “Yes, fuck, yes.” This was impossible, incredible, perfect.
Obi-Wan exhaled hard, tightening his grip on Anakin's hair as he dropped his hold on his jaw, using his free hand to pull his cock out of his pants. Anakin stared and then looked up incredulously. “It’s so big.”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and lined up the head of his cock with Anakin’s mouth, dragging it across his lower lip. “Have you ever done this before?”
Anakin shook his head, opening his mouth and looking up hopefully.
Obi-Wan made a low, pleased sound and tugged on Anakin’s hair again, adjusting the angle of his neck. “Well, I’m not going to teach you how to do it properly right now. What I want from you now doesn’t take any particular technique, or skill. I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you’re going to take it.” Anakin whimpered, and nodded. “Don’t bite me,” Obi-Wan warned, voice rough.
Anakin spoke against the head of his cock, letting his lips drag, licking and tasting Obi-Wan’s precome. “I won’t, I promise I wouldn’t, I— mmph!”
He choked on the sudden intrusion, unused to having a hard cock thrust in his mouth. Obi-Wan rolled his hips forward slightly at the sound, and rumbled happily, “Yes, just like that. Relax your jaw, Anakin. Take it.”
Anakin obeyed, eyes sliding closed as he focused on the sensation and relaxed into it. Obi-Wan thrust harder, his cock sinking deeper, hitting the back of Anakin’s throat and making him gag before pulling out and letting him breathe. He pet Anakin’s head before fucking in again, murmuring. “Good boy.”
Anakin looked up with wide eyes, and Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward. His grip on Anakin’s hair tightened as he shook his head ruefully and huffed, “Your eyes are going to make me come far too quickly, darling.” Anakin whimpered, mouth full of cock, and Obi-Wan pulled out. “I’m going to have to fix that.”
Anakin gasped for air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “How?”
“I have an idea,” Obi-Wan said, a crooked smile growing on his face. He pulled Anakin up by the hair, and Anakin staggered, trying to stand quickly. Obi-Wan’s grip released and his hand slid down to cup the back of Anakin’s neck, squeezing and shaking him slightly. “Come with me.”
He turned and pulled Anakin out of the kitchen, walking him past boxes and papers toward the small bedroom. Anakin tripped after him, unable to feel anything but the pressure on the back of his neck and the uncomfortable throb of his cock in his increasingly wet boxers.
Obi-Wan stood him next to the bed, and let go in order to search through a suitcase for something. Anakin tried to catch his breath. “What are you looking for?”
Obi-Wan shot him an unreadable look, and his hand closed on a tie, pulling it out and sliding it between his fingers. “I’m going to blindfold you. If you have a problem with anything that is happening, just say red, alright? I will stop.”
Anakin nodded rapidly. “Okay, sure.”
“I mean it,” Obi-Wan murmured, stepping closer and wrapping the tie around Anakin’s head, making the world suddenly go dark. Anakin’s breathing was unsteady and loud, and he heard Obi-Wan’s was the same. “You have to tell me.”
“I will,” Anakin reassured him. “I promise.”
“Good,” Obi-Wan said, satisfied. He pressed a quick kiss to Anakin’s lips, surprising him, and pulled away before he could kiss back.
Anakin whimpered in frustration, all of his senses tingling with sight taken away. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, all of the fabric of his clothes too rough on his skin. He wanted it off, he wanted to be naked, he needed to be. His hands jumped to his fly, unfastening his pants, and he whined when Obi-Wan roughly caught his wrists and held him still.
“Patience. Keep your hands off yourself.”
Anakin couldn’t help but wiggle slightly in frustration, tugging on his wrists. “But, Obi-Wan, please.”
“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, his tone mocking and knowing. “You’re not going to be able to handle having your hands free, are you? Can you be good for me?”
“What?” Anakin whined. “Yes, I can. I can be good.”
Obi-Wan’s hand tapped on Anakin’s cheek thoughtfully and then slapped harder, making his knees feel weak. “Hands off.”
Anakin nodded and then whimpered loudly as he sensed Obi-Wan kneel before him, untying his boots and pulling them off, tossing them to the side. He shifted, expecting his pants to come off next, and gasped with indignation as Obi-Wan rose and stepped away.
He was so desperate for contact, he clenched his fists, listening to Obi-Wan rustle around in his suitcase again, trying so hard to be good, be patient, be still, but his cock almost hurt, it was torture, he had to. Obi-Wan was behind him, he was busy, he wouldn’t notice…
“What did I literally just say, Anakin?” Anakin’s hand jumped away from where he was pressing on his jeans.
“Hands off,” Anakin repeated, his head hanging forward. “But, Obi-Wan, it…”
Obi-Wan cut him off by tugging up on the bottom of Anakin’s shirt without warning, pulling it off roughly and letting it fall to the floor, leaving him bare chested. He grabbed both of Anakin’s wrists and brought them together in front, and Anakin felt the silky texture of another tie being used to bind them together.
“Is that too tight?” Obi-Wan asked, finishing his knot and stepping back.
Anakin experimentally tugged on his wrists, and shook his head. “It’s good.”
“Good,” Obi-Wan murmured, and Anakin gasped as his fingers gently ran across his collarbones and up his neck, tracing the shape of his Adam’s apple and the line of his jaw. “You’re always so impatient, Anakin. You’re reckless, thoughtless.”
“I know,” Anakin whined, quivering with the effort to stay still. “I’m sorry.”
Obi-Wan laughed, breathless and fond. “What are you apologizing for? In particular?”
“Umm…” Anakin bit his lip, and shrugged. “I’m just sorry.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Obi-Wan murmured. He leaned closer, and suddenly bit down hard on Anakin’s neck, making him gasp and jerk. He sucked hard and then let go, kissing the spot gently before sliding his lips down toward his chest. Anakin trembled as he licked and sucked on one nipple and then the other. He pulled back, saying quietly, “Beautiful.”
Anakin whimpered, his cock throbbing at the praise. He could almost hear Obi-Wan’s knowing smile as he walked away. “You like that, don’t you. Such a needy little thing.”
“Yes,” Anakin breathed shakily. He listened intently, tracking Obi-Wan’s progress around the room, his breath catching at the sound of Obi-Wan’s clothes hitting the floor. He swallowed, waiting and waiting for permission to move. “Please.”
“Please?” Obi-Wan asked, coming back closer. “Please what?” He came to stand right behind Anakin, and he whimpered at the sensation of Obi-Wan’s breath on his neck and his bare chest pressed to his back. He trembled as Obi-Wan reached around and finally pushed his pants down, freeing his cock.
“Touch me, just… touch me, please.”
Obi-Wan stepped away instead, and Anakin took a deep breath to begin complaining when he was suddenly turned around, bent over, and pushed forward. His chest fell on top of his hands as he landed roughly on the bed. Obi-Wan kicked his legs apart, stroking the ridge of his spine for a moment before he slapped Anakin’s ass with a sharp crack.
Anakin rocked his hips, pushing his hard cock against the bed, whining. Obi-Wan grabbed his hip to hold him still and spanked him again, harder, and again on the other side, the sound of his hand connecting so loud—Anakin felt bright flaring shocks of pain, over and over, and the warm burn of blood rushing to the surface as his skin doubtlessly turned pink.
He gasped and whined, struggling against Obi-Wan’s tight grip on his hip. “Oh, please, I’m sorry, please.”
“You keep apologizing,” Obi-Wan said, voice strained, his hand not stopping. “What are you sorry for?”
“I…” Anakin felt overwhelmed, gasping for breath, on the verge of tears. “I ruined your life.”
Obi-Wan stopped and sighed, his hand gentling and stroking where he had slapped. “I told you it was not your fault.”
Anakin sniffed, trying to keep hot tears back, words tumbling out of his mouth. “I’m still sorry. I’m so sorry. I need you, and I ruined everything, I didn’t mean to. You were gone, I didn’t know why. I missed you so much. I’m sorry.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said so softly. “Do you think you should have talked to me about Mr. Palpatine?”
“Yes,” Anakin sobbed. “I’m sorry. He was so nice to me, I didn’t know.”
“I know, darling. He took advantage, it’s not your fault. What else is bothering you?”
Anakin sniffed again, louder. “I’m sorry about… I’m sorry she left. I know you… I know you were happy.”
“That’s not your fault either, Anakin.”
Anakin shoved his face into the blanket and said, “It feels like it is.”
“What was that?” Obi-Wan asked, his hand stopping where it was stroking tender, burning skin. “Speak up.”
Anakin swallowed and turned his face sideways, freeing his mouth to repeat himself. “It feels like it's all my fault.”
“It depends on your point of view, Anakin. I don’t see it as your fault, so it’s not your fault. You must accept that.”
“I missed you so much, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered, his heart overflowing with how much he loved him, how much he had ached when he was gone. “Don’t leave me like that again. Don’t disappear, don’t act dead. I need you, you can’t do that.”
Obi-Wan was quiet, and Anakin heard him moving around behind, but wasn’t sure what was happening. His nerves started to bubble up, and he twitched anxiously, unable to see or move his hands, but desperate for stimulation, explanation, engagement. Obi-Wan made a calming, shushing noise, and he stilled.
“I, too, am sorry, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s thick fingers began to tease the sensitive skin between Anakin’s legs, stroking behind his balls back toward his entrance. “Has anyone ever touched you here?”
“No,” Anakin breathed. “Me, I do.”
“What a sight that must be,” Obi-Wan murmured. Anakin heard him spit, and felt the wetness that followed. He whimpered incredulously as Obi-Wan gripped one of his cheeks roughly, spreading him wide and then bending his head forward to lick and tease. His beard was scratchy, his tongue was warm and wet and it felt incredible.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, gasping and aching, afraid he’d come without Obi-Wan having touched his cock once. “Please.”
“Please, what?” Obi-Wan asked teasingly. Anakin grumbled until he heard a bottle open—when the fuck did he get lube?— and then felt Obi-Wan’s slicked fingers returning to tease the tight muscle of his ass. “This?” He slowly pushed a finger inside, working it in as Anakin gasped and jerked his hips at the intrusion. Obi-Wan’s finger was already so thick, what would his cock feel like?
He whined and twitched, “Yes, please, that, please.”
“I’ve dreamed of this a hundred times,” Obi-Wan murmured against his skin, and then bit down hard on the plush curve of Anakin’s ass, where he was slapped pink. Anakin’s hips jerked slightly, and Obi-Wan kissed the spot. “Beautiful boy, maddening.”
“Tell me about it?” Anakin said quickly, before he could stop himself, the words coming out a mumbled mess.
Obi-Wan’s slick finger began sliding in and out ever-so-gently, opening him up. “What did you say?”
Anakin felt embarrassed, but needed to know, it was making him crazy. He repeated himself more slowly, “What else did you do to me? In your dreams?”
“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, his finger moving faster and less delicately, fucking in and out. “My darling. Everything, I did everything.”
“Your favorite, then?” Anakin whimpered as Obi-Wan pushed another slick finger in, beginning to deliberately scissor him open, stretching him wider and wider.
Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully, one of Anakin’s favorite noises—he purposely tried to make life difficult for Obi-Wan as a DM, trying to get him to be stumped as to how to respond, at how to apply the rules, just see him stroke his beard and to hear him sound contemplative.
Apparently, Obi-Wan had his mind on the same thing. “You are truly insufferable when I’m trying to DM sometimes, dear one. The dreams always have you mouthing off, like you always do, and instead of letting it go, I’d grab you and pull you into the back alley, make you choke on my cock to apologize.”
“Yeah?” Anakin panted, his cock aching at the idea.
“Yeah,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “Or maybe I’d bend you over the hood of my car, fuck you hard in the parking lot, make you take my cock as you squirm and complain. Anything to fuck that insufferably bratty attitude out of you.”
Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out, and Anakin whined, “Can I see you? I want to see you.”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, rolling him over and shoving him farther onto the bed. “Be patient, but yes.”
Anakin waited, his body tense, his cock harder than it ever had been in his life, his balls tight against his body. He was feeling so close to coming, so very close. He gasped as he felt Obi-Wan’s weight join him on the bed, crawling up his body, kneeling and hovering over him. He blinked owlishly as the tie was removed from his head, and looked up into Obi-Wan’s ice blue eyes turned black with desire.
He smiled, and Obi-Wan smiled back, as if he couldn’t help himself. He stroked Anakin’s cheek again, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. Anakin moaned, and pulled his arms as if to wrap around Obi-Wan and hold him close, but huffed with frustration as he was stopped by the second tie around his wrists.
Obi-Wan smirked, and grabbed the tie, and instead of loosening like Anakin expected, used it to pull his hands above his head, and used the first tie to fasten it to his bed frame. Anakin sulked, tugging slightly, wiggling his hips in dissatisfaction. Obi-Wan looked far too pleased with himself.
“Be still, darling.”
Anakin pouted but obediently stopped moving, and Obi-Wan murmured sarcastically, “Very good, so very well done.” Though he praised him in a mocking voice, it still made Anakin’s cock throb.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin begged, “Please.”
Obi-Wan nodded and grabbed a pillow, pushing it under Anakin’s hips and adjusting the angle to exactly how he wanted it. Anakin huffed with exasperation as over and over Obi-Wan evaded touching his cock at all. “You’re killing me.”
“Hyperbole, Anakin, I am doing no such thing.” Obi-Wan was insufferable. “Nevertheless, I will fuck you now.”
“Thank Christ,” Anakin groaned, spreading his legs further apart. “Please!”
Obi-Wan reached for the condom lying next to the bottle of lube, and then looked at Anakin, a question burning in his eyes. “I’m clean, would you—”
“Me too,” Anakin said breathlessly, cutting him off. “I want you to come inside me. I want your come inside me, Obi-Wan. Fuck me, please, fuck me without.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled hard. “Thank you.”
Anakin nodded, as if it were obvious, watching with fascination as Obi-Wan rubbed lube on his bare cock. He couldn’t believe this was happening, it was still unreal, still unimaginable. “Please, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan spread Anakin’s legs wider and tugged his hips into the right position on the pillow, and then leaned forward onto an elbow, hovering over Anakin, staring into his eyes. He pressed the head of his cock against Anakin’s ass, lining it up and teasing him slightly, rubbing his entrance but not pushing inside.
Anakin groaned and begged, “I will do anything, please, anything, just, please.”
Obi-Wan smiled at him warmly, and it was Anakin’s favorite smile, the one that crinkled the skin next to his eyes, and filled his gaze with so much affection it made him feel dizzy. Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan pushed his hips forward, slowly sinking the head of his cock inside. It was so much, too much!
Anakin felt his eyes go wide and his mouth drop open, and he tensed. Obi-Wan stopped immediately, letting him get used to the sensation. He pressed his forehead down against Anakin’s and then kissed him, moving to murmur in his ear, fast and low, “You’re doing so well, Anakin. You look so good, taking me, so perfect around me, so tight. You feel so good, darling, so good.”
The praise washed over Anakin in a soothing wave, making him relax, becoming almost high with it, and with the overwhelming sensation of Obi-Wan’s cock—slipping ever deeper and deeper inside, filling him up, stretching him out.
Obi-Wan was fucking him with his cock, he was inside him, he was inside Anakin, it was impossible. He should really write Mr. Yoda a thank you note.
The stray thought made Anakin laugh, and Obi-Wan looked at him, his eyes so hazy with desire and affection. “What?”
“I’m just happy this is happening,” Anakin said, smiling earnestly. He rocked his hips experimentally, and gasped when he took another inch of Obi-Wan’s cock. “I’m so glad I’m here.”
Obi-Wan gave him such a grateful look of agreement that it made Anakin feel giddy, and made a low sound of approval in his throat, thrusting his hips forward and sinking in all the way. Anakin’s back arched, his arms tugging on the tie holding his hands above his head, and they were still for a long moment—adjusting, appreciating.
“I love you,” Obi-Wan said, his voice raw and unsteady, looking deeply into Anakin’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to, but I do. I do so much.”
Anakin smiled, almost shy, and opened his mouth to agree when Obi-Wan abruptly moved his hips back and then snapped them forward. Anakin’s words were lost, all he was able to do was whine and take it as Obi-Wan began to fuck him, faster and harder. “Oh, oh my god.”
Obi-Wan held eye contact, one of his hands dropping, finally, finally, to wrap around Anakin’s cock and begin to tug in rhythm with each thrust of his hips. He smiled, shaking his head ruefully. “I warned you, I’m not going to last long.”
“I want…” Anakin panted, desperately trying to keep his eyes open and not roll them back. He couldn't miss a second of this. “I want you to come.”
Obi-Wan moved his wrist faster, twisting slightly and squeezing the head of Anakin’s cock, making him moan loudly. He did it again, his hips speeding up, his rhythm already growing sloppy as he got close. “Anakin.”
Anakin felt so close, so overwhelmed with how perfect it felt to have Obi-Wan’s cock moving deep inside him. “Come in me, fill me up, I want it, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan’s face went tight, and he groaned, coming hard. The sound and sight of his pleasure pushed Anakin over the edge too, and a tremendous pressure released from his stomach, his orgasm rolling up and over him, spots of light appearing in his vision as he spilled come onto his stomach.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, reverently, pulling his cock out and watching his come trickle out behind. “You’re so beautiful.”
Anakin blushed and panted in the afterglow, feeling shy. Obi-Wan smiled and collapsed next to him as they both caught their breath. Anakin tugged pointedly on his wrists and Obi-Wan gave him an apologetic grimace, untying him quickly and checking to make sure he wasn’t bruised. “Are you alright?”
His voice was filled with so much worry, it made Anakin’s heart ache. “I would have told you if you were hurting me, if I didn’t want it.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan said, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ve just… I’ve been so… The dreams were rougher than anything I’d ever… I thought it was wrong.”
“You dreamed of me hating it?” Anakin asked, brow furrowing. “You really didn’t think I’d like it?”
“No,” Obi-Wan said distantly, as if flipping through all his memories. “I guess on some level I knew you would, or I hoped.”
“And you were right, Obi-Wan.” Anakin snuggled into his side, and Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him tightly. They lay there for an extended moment, the silence full, rich, and comfortable. A thought floated into Anakin’s mind from nowhere. “Can Snips use your car for her driving test? She can’t drive a stick. I need to teach her, I’ve just been so busy." He groaned, the exhaustion of the last few months washing over him. "Fuck, I really need to quit my job.”
Obi-Wan startled, looking sideways at him. “Yes, you very well might need to quit." He shook his head, relaxing back. "We can talk about that later. When is her test?”
Anakin sighed heavily, already imagining exactly how badly it would go for him to quit, but trying to put it out of his mind. “She said she wanted to take it this Friday.”
“Of course she can use it,” Obi-Wan said, wincing. “Did I really miss her birthday? I didn't mean to.”
“It's technically tomorrow, so you can still text her. I got her defective dice,” Anakin laughed quietly and kissed Obi-Wan's cheek. “It’s all good.”
“Okay,” Obi-Wan hugged him tighter against his side, and then sighed. “I’ll still make it up to her though.”
“She’ll just be happy to see you, I promise. Let her use your car and she’ll love you forever. I mean, we already love you, you know.”
Obi-Wan shook his head with a small, lopsided grin, and Anakin snuggled against him, glowing with pride at the change in Obi-Wan's attitude, from the moment when he opened the door until now. Everything was right in the world, and everything made sense again. “I love you too.”