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Every surface of the sordid establishment seems to gleam and reflect. Lights of every imaginable color flash and streak over every line and edge of the construction. Somehow, it still manages to be poorly lit, and if you look too closely at anything, rust and grime crust the edges and corners. Glitter smoothed over shit. The appeal is lost on Anakin.
It's louder than he likes it to be, the music isn't to his taste, and there are far too many people crowded inside. At least there'd been room enough for both of them to sit at the bar. It's glass, smudged with hand and fingerprints, underlit with an unpleasant blue-white light. At least Obi-Wan is with him. He wouldn't willingly be at a place like this otherwise.
The rich amber liquid of Anakin’s drink burns down his throat when he tips back the glass. He almost coughs at the acrid taste, but manages to choke it down. The face he pulls must be dramatic, because Obi-Wan laughs, patting him gently on the shoulder.
“Don't like it?” His Master's drink is already empty, his fingers tapping at the cheap glass.
“It's… strong.” It lingers on the back of his tongue, sour and chemical.
Obi-Wan smiles at him, brows twitching upward. “Would you like to try something else?”
He doesn't really, if he's being honest, but he's never been out with Obi-Wan like this, so he nods. It's odd. Not feeling the gentle weight of that long, thin braid on his shoulder. The subtle bounce of his ponytail. Knowing Obi-Wan is his equal now, in title, anyway. Though Anakin doubts he sees it that way. He sneers to himself.
“Here, try this one.” Obi-Wan pushes a wide triangular glass in front of him, filled with a bright red liquid. Giving him a weary look, Anakin takes a sip, and it's immediately more enjoyable than whatever he forced down previously. Much sweeter. There's still a bite to it he isn't fond of, but he could enjoy this.
“I like it.”
He looks up, and catches Obi-Wan downing another shot of something clear, the Bob of his throat drawing his eye. Numerous colorful lights sparkle and outline Obi-Wan's handsome features. It's a little hard to tell, but he thinks his Master's cheeks have already started to go a little pink.
“Order as many as you like, my former apprentice.” A wry expression tugs at his face, but there's a sincerity to it that warms Anakin from the center of his chest. Or perhaps it's just the alcohol.
He paces himself, or tries to. It doesn't take much for every thought to begin to blur at the edges. He barely notices the shimmering blue-skinned woman slide into the seat next to him. Ephemeral and beautiful.
When her ankle taps against his, he has to tear his eyes away from Obi-Wan carding his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.
“Aren't you a little young to be in a place like this?” She asks, grinning at him, her pink eyes sparkling, full lips painted a bright red. Two long lekku drape over each shoulder, wrapped in delicate silver chains. Her dress is plastered tight to her body, and Anakin quickly averts his eyes.
“I'm twenty,” he says flatly, glancing back at Obi-Wan to find him not-so-subtly watching the interaction. She's looking at him expectantly, fingering the edge of her glass. Her long, manicured nails click against it, off beat with the music. Fluttering her glittery lashes, she bites her lip and looks at him in a manner so besotted not even Anakin can misread it.
The first words that come to mind aren't eloquent, but his alcohol-fuzzed brain spits them out immediately. “Oh, um. I can't. I'm sorry.”
She immediately looks at Obi-Wan and then back at him. Once. Twice. Then, she closes her eyes and smiles, nodding at him before getting up. She doesn't say anything more, but Anakin's feels half sick at what she'd wordlessly implied. Do other people look at them and see what she did? Anakin swallows, his mouth suddenly bone-dry.
“You can't?” Obi-Wan questions once she's gone. Anakin snaps his head in his direction, and Obi-Wan stares at him with raised brows. “We aren't sworn to celibacy, Anakin.”
“I know that.” Heat creeps up into his cheeks, and he stares at a very interesting crack in the floor. Obi-Wan can't really be pestering him about this.
If he notices his clear discomfort, it doesn't stop him from pressing. Digging. “Then why say you can't?”
“Are you really asking me why I'm not going to screw some random girl?” He feels thirteen again, like Obi-Wan has walked in on him with his hand in his pants.
Obi-Wan shrugs. “Professional curiosity.”
Professional. Of course. Anakin scowls.
“I've never done that. With anyone.” Why he admits it out loud, he isn't sure. He'd kissed Padmé. Once. It's the only romantic physical intimacy he's ever shared with anyone, and she'd made it crystal clear that things could never move beyond that. If drinking always loosens his tongue this much, he doesn't think he'll be doing it very often.
At least he hadn't said anything sentimental about wanting his first time to be with someone ‘special.’
“Really?” There's a hint of genuine surprise in his tone, and Anakin almost laughs.
What did he think he'd say? With all his training and missions and the war, when would he even have the time? Obi-Wan even knows this is his first time drinking. “Is that so shocking?”
“Hm. Not terribly, I suppose. You're still very young.” He keeps his eyes on where his hand rests around his half empty glass, stroking his beard with the other. A gentle, thoughtful gesture Anakin often catches himself thinking about. Would he touch him with such gentle reverence?
“I'm an adult,” he snaps. I'm a knight. I'm just like you. But the only thing that's changed in Obi-Wan’s eyes is his haircut.
“You're right. You are.” His eyes glaze over, voice softening like the words weren't even meant for Anakin.
It goes quiet between them. Still. Clearing his throat, Anakin asks him the only thing he can think to. He cannot deny his curiosity. Obi-Wan is the one who brought it up, after all. “What about you? Have you ever…?”
“Had sex? Of course, I have.” Obi-Wan answers without a second of contemplation, and Anakin doubts it has anything to do with the handful of drinks he's had. He's just that comfortable saying it.
Anakin hates that it bothers him. He's thirty-six years old. Handsome. Well-mannered and well-groomed. Of course he's had sex. His teeth click together and grind so hard his jaw hurts. When Anakin doesn't say anything, his silence speaks for him.
“Did you expect me to be some paragon of virtue? I'm drinking you under the table as we speak Anakin.” And he really is. His drink is a different color than the one he'd had just a moment ago.
Secretly, he hoped his Master would drink enough to let some vulnerability seep through– not that he had anything specific in mind. Nothing that isn't incredibly unrealistic or holo-porn adjacent, anyway.
In the end, he didn't even have to play dumb or goad him into it. Obi-Wan will be drunk long before him, if he isn't already. Downing what was left of the drink in front of him, Anakin ordered another, only asking that it be sweet. There's too much bitterness in his blood already without adding liquor.
“No, I just never thought about it.” That's a lie, partially, at least. He often wondered if his Master had any experience, but never the who or when. It's an abstract concept in which to base his fantasies, nothing more. Obi-Wan is almost always a gentle and experienced lover in his dreams. “With who? How long ago?”
Obi-Wan tuts, shaking his head a little. “That's hardly any of your business now, is it?”
“That's not fair, I was honest.” The expression he's pulling at him must be childish, but the pit of his stomach burns to know. Who has touched his Master? Who has seen him in every way Anakin aches to? It's not fair. Anakin deserves to have him, no one else has or will ever love him more.
“And I'm being honest too. You asked me if I've ever had sex, and I said yes.” Always with the technicalities, the professional distance. They're closer than Jedi should be, even Anakin can see that. But it's not close enough, not for Anakin. To take Obi-Wan in his hands and peel away every last shred of his decorum and manners. To expose a dirty, naked part of him that no one but Anakin has ever seen. That's what he craves. Needs.
“Whatever.” Part of him wants to throw his drink and watch it burst against the scuffed metal floor, but he only grips it tight, and takes a long swig.
“Why would you even want to know the details? I don't think most young knights are particularly interested in their elders' sexual escapades." His stomach flips at the barest hint Obi-Wan might know anything about his affections for him. The way he fidgets and looks away must be telling too. It's a miracle it's gone unnoticed for this long. If Obi-Wan isn't playing dumb. It wouldn't be shocking if he knew the whole time, but Anakin would like to pretend he has a subtle bone in his body.
“Maybe I was hoping you could give me some pointers.” It's the first thing he can think to say, and judging by the snort it gets out of Obi-Wan, he probably should've thought a little harder.
“Pointers? Anakin that woman was ready to bend over for you before you said a word.” It might be the most crass thing he's ever heard Obi-Wan say, and he only stares at him with widened eyes and his lips slightly parted. “It's been a long time. I'm not sure anything I have to say on the matter would be helpful.”
It absolutely wouldn't be. There's only one person Anakin has any interest in now, and it's not like he can come out and ask how he'd like to be courted.
“Come on.” He must sound whiny, but his senses, his inhibitions are dulled. Obi-Wan's are too.
“Anakin, your face does over half the work for you, you don't need my lecturing to get laid.” So matter-of-factly.
“My face?” Anakin isn't stupid, he knows what Obi-Wan’s getting at, but he'd very much like to hear him say it.
“You're handsome. But you know that,” he huffs, like it's obvious. It might be. Anakin's never looked at himself and seen anything special. His eyes are too tender, his lips are too full and soft. The scar he's actually rather fond of. It made him look grittier. Tougher. It aged him, made him look more like a man.
“You think I'm handsome?” It's a juvenile thing to say in response, but words keep tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them.
Obi-Wan sighs. “It's an objective observation.”
“Really?” Palms pressing against the cool surface of the bar, he leans a little closer, and even with the alcohol swimming in his veins, Obi-Wan is still a keenly perceptive man.
“Anakin.” His clear blue eyes pierce him– an insect to a board. No games. No teasing. A chasm opens up inside Anakin, black and cold and so very lonely.
“What?” He asks, tattered and soft, as if he doesn't know.
“Stop it.” Unwavering. Absolute.
There would be no chipping away at this wall. It's hopeless, endless. Anakin will never pry open the doors of his Master's heart. “Why?”
“You know why.” Obi-Wan's jaw clenches, chin tipping up to look down on Anakin. He's so small, the world narrowed to Obi-Wan's vehement gaze. Nine years old again.
Hopeless. Endless. So why can't he give up? “Do I?”
“Please don't, Anakin.” Obi-Wan's voice is stretched thin, fingers pressing over his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Why? I'm not your Padawan anymore, I'm a grown man.” Why don't you want me? Why doesn't anyone want me? Why am I not good enough?
“You were my apprentice for nearly a decade, and you are sixteen years younger than me,” he pauses for a breath. “Besides-” he closes his mouth again as quickly as he'd opened it, and the way his face pinches is a weakness Anakin pounces on immediately.
“Besides what?”
“Nothing.” He says it too quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, bouncing his knee against the bar stool. Eyes fixed on his own hands.
Anakin pushes, presses his mind up against Obi-Wan's, but he should know better. Does know better, when he's sober. There's nothing to hook into, no purchase. He's too strong-willed, and Anakin can't pull even the faintest suggestion from behind his shields.
“Master. Obi-Wan.” Tiny. Pleading.
Obi-Wan's face falls into his palm, knee still bouncing, deliberately looking away from him. “Anakin. No.”
That's it then. He didn't think anything could hurt more than Padme's rejection, but Obi-Wan twists a knife in his heart so deep he hadn't even realized it was there. He's the one person who's supposed to love him. Be there for him. A thick lump swells in his throat. Tears well up and sting in his eyes, but he wills them not to spill over. If Obi-Wan saw he thinks he'd die.
All he can do is order another drink, and try to pretend he hadn't said anything.
To his credit, Obi-Wan tries to act like his little outburst hasn't affected him. Obi-Wan isn't ever particularly sparse with words, but now he drags out every sentence as if the sound of his own voice is the only thing keeping him sane. If Anakin didn't love the sound of it, he might find it annoying. But it's Obi-Wan. He could listen to him recite the Jedi code and enjoy it.
He isn't sure how long they sit there. Talking about anything but the wound he'd torn open inside Anakin. The more Obi-Wan drinks, the easier Anakin can see the hesitance in which he regards him. It's in every move he makes, every word he says. Like something will tear like wet paper if he isn't careful enough.
He can't stand it. He wants to go home, go to sleep and forget. A faint light headedness remains, but he'd lost his desire to continue drinking after Obi-Wan's harsh rejection. He isn't interested in making more of a fool of himself than he already has.
The same couldn't be said for his former Master. By the time they have to leave, Obi-Wan is coherent enough to speak, but he has some trouble standing. It's almost impressive how articulate he could be while stumbling over himself.
“Forgive me Anakin, I should've paced myself a little better,” he says, arm slung over Anakin's shoulders. Anakin's fingers curl around his belt. Too close. They'd come in a speeder cab, and there would be many this time of night to pick up other over eager bar goers.
“It's alright Master, I wanted you to have fun too.” The warmth of his body half-slumped against him is as comforting as it is painful. Obi-Wan's hand squeezes at his shoulder, weight shifting slightly. Anakin feels like there's a lolth-cat in his belly, trying to claw its way out.
“I remember when you were shorter than me, when your shoulders weren't so broad…” It's so soft Anakin barely hears him over the ambient city noise, the other people crowded around them, and when he turns his head to meet Obi-Wan's gaze, his eyes are full of something Anakin’s never seen there before. It sets his heart racing instantly, a wild heat billowing in his chest. Another lump catches in his throat, but this time it's ripe and heavy with anticipation.
When a cab arrives just in time to spoil whatever strange tension was building between them, Anakin nearly screams.
The look he gives the driver when he tells them to take them back to the temple must be enough to keep any Jedi specific questions to himself. Anakin helps Obi-Wan into one of the back seats, still high on the tender look he'd given him.
Maybe he's wrong about everything. Maybe his Master does love him. He's still just drunk enough to test his luck. Swallowing thickly, he stares at Obi-Wan so intensely that it draws his attention even through the haze of alcohol in his system. They lock eyes, and there's stardust in his blood when Anakin slides his hand across the synthleather seat until it grazes his thigh.
Obi-Wan stiffens, lips parting but not saying anything. They're deliciously pink– a perfect match to his flushed cheeks. Anakin's never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life. No one has ever wanted to kiss anyone as badly as Anakin Skywalker wants to kiss Obi-Wan Kenobi right now.
The emotion, the pure, ravenous want spilling from within him must reach Obi-Wan, for his eyes flutter closed as Anakin lets his hand slide fully over the meat of his thigh. When Obi-Wan stops him, it's several seconds too late to not be tremendously revealing.
“Anakin,” but his voice is weary, breathy.
“Master.” Obi-Wan's hand presses atop his own, stopping him from trying to grope him. He wouldn't, not if he thought Obi-Wan didn't desire it. Anakin relents, reeling from Obi-Wan's sudden shift– like he'd left that ever impenetrable door cracked for him, and is just waiting for Anakin to pry it the rest of the way open.
It's torture to wait until the cab ride is over. Anakin throws whatever credits are in his pocket at the driver, not caring in the slightest if it's too much. It's not like it's his money anyway. Not really.
The walk to Obi-Wan's rooms isn't a long one, but it feels like it with how uncoordinated his Master's steps are. He doesn't stumble or drag his feet with every step, but he definitely needs Anakin's support. He's half carried him similarly when injured, but never quite like this. It had a more intimate air somehow, with Obi-Wan clinging to him, just the two of them, trusting him to get him home in such an addled state.
Anakin half-expected him to babble more apologies or sentimental nonsense about how much he's grown, but he doesn't say a word, head hanging with his bangs obscuring his face. It's a little disappointing. All Anakin's ever wanted is Obi-Wan's attention, his love, his vulnerability. The faintest suggestion he could've had it will scar him deeply.
When he glances down at him again, Obi-Wan's looking at him. His eyes are different now, not tender or wary like they were before. It's a look Anakin's seen thousands of times. When he's puzzling something out– when something has finally clicked. The only thing missing is his right pointer and thumb stroking over his mustache.
The door to Obi-Wan's rooms hisses open, and Anakin has to will himself to look away from him long enough to cross the threshold. He turns to close the door behind him, but Obi-Wan gestures with his hand, and it closes instantly. Anakin has half a mind to tease him about such frivolous Force usage, but Obi-Wan still hasn't said a word. His heart is pouring so fiercely Obi-Wan must be able to hear it trying to burst from his chest.
Obi-Wan looks at him. Stares. Searching for something, and Anakin is paralyzed under his gaze. Like he can see inside of him, his blood, his organs, his most pure and debased feelings that he tried to hide for so very long. Another person will never know him better. Fingertips graze the edge of his jaw, and Anakin flinches so harshly at the unexpected contact that Obi-Wan huffs a humorless laugh.
“Master.” Anakin's panting. Palms sweating and chest heaving as Obi-Wan just looks at him. He aches. Ribs hurting like he's going to collapse in on himself if Obi-Wan doesn't speak. If he doesn't do something other than stare.
“Forgive me.” The plea breaks around his shaky breath, and Anakin's mouth is half open in questioning before Obi-Wan's lips meet his.
Anakin reacts before his mind can catch up. Grabbing Obi-Wan's arms tight, moaning openly into his mouth. His lips fit just right against his, warm and soft, his beard scratching pleasantly against his face. Forgive him? This is everything he's ever wanted. Anakin should thank him. ‘I love you.’ He thinks. ‘I love you so much. Please be with me. Please stay with me forever.’
“Anakin. Calm down.” Obi-Wan breathes against him, unsteady, when he breaks away to breathe. Emotions flood out of Anakin with painful intensity. He can't help it. What else is he supposed to do? He could glow with Obi-Wan’s reciprocation, burn alive with it. Always too much, too intense, too empty. Anakin loves like a blackened pit; dark and endless and afraid no one will ever be able to fill the emptiness.
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” The scent of alcohol on his Master's breath is strong, and a powerful pang of guilt rips through him. Does Obi-Wan even realize what he's doing? Will he regret it? This is exactly what he wished for– more than he wised for– but as he toes the line of this precarious threshold, he's afraid of what tomorrow might bring.
“Do you think I'm stupid, Anakin?”
The question catches him off guard, as if his thoughts are at all hard to read when they bleed out of him so carelessly. “What?”
“You were trying to get me drunk, I know you were.” He says flatly.
“Master, I-” He's hot with arousal, hot with shame, but Obi-Wan isn't having it. Even if he was wrong, Anakin wouldn't be able to refute such a steadfast statement.
“Don't lie. You know you always blink twice when you do. Then your cheeks flush.”
Anakin gapes at him like a fish. He really can see right through him. Easy as breathing, like he's made of glass.
“Maybe I let you. Like I'm letting you right now,” Obi-Wan says lowly, eyes as dark as midnight. His fingers curl around his jaw to kiss him again and Oh. Anakin's knees feel traitorously weak. This time, Obi-Wan bites at his bottom lip, and all Anakin can do is mouth at him cluelessly in return. Licking at the seam of his lips and trying to press inside.
“You really haven't done this before have you?” He says, voice dripping with amusement, something else, too. Heady and sweet.
Anakin fights the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. “Did you think I was lying? You just said you could tell.”
Obi-Wan laughs, smiling wide against him. His teeth seem sharper than usual. “And I told you that you're a very handsome boy. I wasn't lying either. It's just a little hard to believe.”
“Don't want to be my first?” Anakin tries to tease, but he only ends up sounding woefully insecure with his small, shaking words.
“I shouldn't want to be,” Obi-Wan breathes, pulling back a little to look at him. It's difficult to make out, but his eyes look tremendously tender, and deeply hungry. “But Yes, I do. Obscenely so.”
“Then please Master, you can have me.” Their foreheads knock together, Anakin gripping him so tightly it must hurt. This is what he needs, what he's always needed. If anyone could fill the festering hole at the center of his being, it's Obi-Wan.
“Anakin.” He moans, turning his head, a part of him still trying to turn back, to resist. “Do you even know what you're asking for?”
“Yes Master, I've thought about it every night for years.” Fantasies that have taken every shape imaginable sprout up in his mind. Obi-Wan under him, back arched, begging. Anakin pinning him down, taking without asking. Obi-Wan on his knees, face dirty with his come. Obi-Wan crying for him to stop, to keep going. Obi-Wan filling him to the brim, telling him how much he loves him. Obi-Wan Obi-Wan Obi-Wan.
“Force.” Obi-Wan gasps, one of his hands straying daringly close to Anakin’s cock. He's been hard since he sat down in the taxi next to him, and his Master's hand so close has him bucking his hips before he can think not to. “You'll be the death of me.”
It's enough permission for Anakin. He has to touch him too. Needs to. Obi-Wan grabs at his forearm as he reaches between his legs, the beginnings of a protest on his lips, but he doesn't get anything out before Anakin's palming at him incessantly.
When he isn't met with Obi-Wan’s hard, straining cock, he's more than a little dejected. Obi-Wan stiffens, and Anakin recoils like he's been burned. He was right all along, Obi-Wan doesn't see him as a man, as his equal. ‘He doesn't want me. He isn't even-’
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan cups his face in both hands, forcing him to look at him. Lips still flushed and kiss-wet, pupils blown wide. “I don't- Force.”
It might be the first time he's ever seen Obi-Wan genuinely embarrassed. Enough to stumble over his words anyway. Maybe he just couldn't get hard, maybe-
“I don't… have a cock,” He finally says, voice tapering at the crude admission.
Anakin blinks at him. It takes an embarrassing amount of time for him to realize what exactly he's getting at.
“You have a…” Anakin's mouth goes dry, and he struggles to swallow. His chest heaves, his mouth waters imagining him wet and wanting for him with a pretty, pink– “Pussy?”
“Yes,” he confirms, meek and soft, cheeks redder than he's ever seen.
Oh, oh. His Master has a pussy. Lightning tingles up his spine. He shudders, he groans, he grinds his hips against Obi-Wan, his cock dragging over his thigh. He's had a pussy the whole time and Anakin never knew. How did he never know? He's tried to imagine how his big, thick cock would look for years, never considering the possibility of anything else.
Grabbing fistfuls of Obi-Wan's trousers and willing himself not to rip them apart, he nearly snarls, “Show me. I want to see.” I need to see.
“Are you-”
“Yes, now.” He's never been more sure, never wanted anything so much. His cock throbs with every heartbeat, painful, unbearable. Obi-Wan grins at him, taking a careful step back.
“Behave, Anakin.” Obi-Wan says, his hands going to Anakin's hips. “Stay right here. Don't move. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Anakin nods frantically, biting his bottom lip and clenching his fists.
Obi-Wan takes another step back from him, then another, and another until he's closer to his bed than he is to Anakin. Watching him carefully as he undoes his belt, lets his tabards slip off his shoulders. He thumbs the edge of his tunic, pulls it off to show Anakin his chest– his hard, pink nipples, the dusting of golden hair trailing down his belly and disappearing into his pants. His body sways a little unsteadily, the only sign that he's still inebriated.
Obi-Wan's hands stall on his trousers, thumbs dipping into them teasingly. Anakin's lips part, tongue wetting his lips as he bounces on the balls of his feet.
“Are you going to be a good boy?” He asks, a wry smile on his face, tugging his pants down his hips just barely. Since when is he so cheeky? Always, he knows. For some reason, he's always imagined him more reserved and timid during sex, but this certainly isn't to his displeasure.
“Yes Master, I promise.” Anakin swallows again. Then again, trying not to choke on his own arousal. His toes curl and uncurl in his boots, the fingernails of his flesh hand pressing deep crescent marks into his palm.
Obi-Wan kicks off his boots roughly, nearly stumbling over his drunken feet. It's not very sexy– or it wouldn't be, if it were anyone else. He could fall over himself and Anakin would still be as hard as beskar.
He locks eyes with Anakin when he begins to slide his pants down his legs. The sharp blue of his gaze is so intense Anakin can't look away even as his trousers crumple on the floor. Behave. Be good. Obi-Wan steps out of them, blinking, and the spell is broken. Anakin's eyes follow the line of soft golden hair all the way down, but his legs are crossed at the ankle, obscuring his view of his Master's most private area.
A whine escapes him, and Obi-Wan chuckles. Turning to sit on his bed. Anakin does get a nice view of his ass, which he can't complain about. Once he's seated, he keeps his legs together, and Anakin is willing himself not to pounce on him and wrench his legs apart by force. He squirms, huffing, and Obi-Wan laughs at him again.
“Please Master, let me see…” He squirms more, trying to bite back more impatient whimpers.
He's sure he's in for more teasing, but Obi-Wan braces his palms behind himself on the mattress, and slowly spreads his legs until he's fully on display for him. The moan that spills out of Anakin is shamefully loud.
The light is dim, blue and mostly coming from the large windows behind them, but Anakin can see it glisten off Obi-Wan's cunt. He groans, sure there's nothing he's ever laid his eyes on that's prettier than Obi-Wan's soaked pink pussy.
“You're beautiful,” he groans, unable to keep the thought to himself because he needs him to hear it as much as he needs to hear himself say it.
“I know.” He says, absolutely full of himself. A spark of fond annoyance lights up in Anakin, but he doesn't back-talk him. “Strip for me, and I'll let you touch it.”
Anakin's fingers fly to his belt like his life depends on getting it off as fast as he can, but before he can even undo the buckle, he can hear Obi-Wan tutting at him. “Slower, Anakin.”
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he complies through the absolute storm of want churning in his gut. His belt uncurls from around his waist and clatters to the floor, followed by his black leather tabards. He shrugs them off, watching the way Obi-Wan watches him. Without the hanging tabards, his painfully hard cock is plain to see, and he combats the urge to cover himself when Obi-Wan hums, no doubt studying the obvious outline of it.
“I didn't say stop.”
“Yes, Master,” he breathes, pulling his tunic off next. He isn't sure if Obi-Wan wants him to pause or show off his chest or body in some way, but he doesn't comment or stop him when he bends to pull off his boots. When his thumbs hook in his trousers, that's when Obi-Wan interrupts him.
“Just your pants. Leave your underwear on, and then I want you to come here.” Anakin lets them drop, stepping out of them, stepping towards Obi-Wan. He tries not to run and trip over himself. He's reasonably successful.
Standing in front of his Master, he feels strangely small. He's bigger, taller, and he towers over him now from where he's sitting on the bed, but the way he looks at him always reduces him to something tiny and brand new.
Humming, Obi-Wan grazes his fingers up the outside of his thigh, fingertips skirting along the edge of Anakin's thin, white shorts, carefully avoiding his cock. “Please Master…”
Tears prick in his eyes at the need that pulses through him. It's maddening. He can't even find the words to beg, he'd choke on them. When Obi-Wan finally does touch him, it's feather-light, tracing the outline of his aching cock. “Look at you, about to rip these apart.” His eyes flick up, catching Anakin's. “Are you even going to last long enough to get this in my pretty little pussy, Anakin? You're very hard.”
Oh, fuck. Anakin clenches his thighs, feeling his balls draw up as if to confirm Obi-Wan's assumption. He bites into his cheek hard, enough to taste iron. “Yes yes yes I will, I promise.”
Obi-Wan laughs again, clear and fond and sweet. He grabs at the soft fabric of his shorts with both hands and tugs them down until his achy, leaking cock is exposed, bouncing with the sudden movement. Anakin hisses at the brief friction and the cool air hitting his blood-hot skin. Obi-Wan wraps his fingers around the base of it, squeezing lightly. “I hope so. I'd be so very disappointed if I didn't get to feel this inside me.”
He never could've imagined his Master saying such things so candidly, so confidently. All of it goes straight to his groin, pools hotly in his belly. If Obi-Wan wanted him to, he's sure he could come untouched. With nothing but the sound of his posh voice wrapped around filthy words. “Then stop saying things like that.”
Obi-Wan lets go of him. Smiles at him, warm and inviting, opening his arms. “Come here, sweet boy.”
Anakin steps in between his thighs, and his weak knees finally buckle, pushing him and Obi-Wan down against the plush bedding. He kisses him, hungry and wet, licking into his mouth and over his teeth. Despite his clumsiness, Obi-Wan moans, fingers carding through his short hair.
With a hand on his chest, he beckons Anakin until they're properly laid out in the center of his bed. Anakin is eager to kiss him again, but Obi-Wan ducks him, grabbing his wrist. “Slow down dear, I'm not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” Anakin asks. Quiet.
“I promise.” He says gently, placing Anakin's hand on his chest. He can feel the thrum of his heart under his palm before he guides him lower, his fingers petting through downy hair all the way. Anakin's breathing picks up again, his skin tingling all over.
“Here.” He whispers, sliding Anakin's hand between the lips of his pussy. Anakin moans even louder than he does, the slick slide of him so beautifully erotic he could die.
“Master. You're so wet.” Anakin slowly drags his fingers up and down, spreading him, savoring how warm and soft he is. He's watched enough holo-porn to know what he should be doing in theory, but his brain utterly short circuits in practice.
“For you, sweetheart.” Obi-Wan breathes, and Anakin shivers, his neglected cock twitching against Obi-Wan's thigh.
“You're so soft here,” He says, circling his fingers around his entrance, teasing, not dipping inside yet. “Can I?”
“Please.” The word is stretched thinly over a hitched breath. Small and sweet and pleading. Anakin has to hear his voice like that again. One finger slides into him nice and easy, and he's even hotter inside. Oh. His stomach lurches with a spike of heat so violent he can't possibly stop himself from bucking against Obi-Wan's leg, his cock dragging deliciously over the hair there. He nearly comes. Again.
“That's it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan coos, petting through his hair and kissing at the corner of his mouth. “Another. Give me two.”
He complies, sliding a second finger alongside the first. Obi-Wan clenches around them, a breathy moan passing his lips. He grinds a little against his hand and fingers, wetting Anakin's palm, and he's struck with how much he wants to lick it clean. His beautiful Master is grinding his gorgeous wet cunt against him, and Anakin still isn't sure he isn't dreaming.
“Fuck yes, Anakin, curl them into me.” He moans, pressing his face into Anakin's neck, his breath hot in his ear. Anakin curls the digits just so, pressing into his warm, pink insides and Obi-Wan mewles, clenching again. “Just like that. Keep doing that-!” He pants, and Anakin groans, pumping and curling his fingers and feeling Obi-Wan soak them.
“Put your thumb here,” he rasps, pushing Anakin's thumb to his clit, making him rub circles over it, showing him how he wants to be touched. Anakin doesn't think he's ever been more eager to listen to his instruction. “Good boy Anakin, my good boy.”
Stars burst behind his eyes, his teeth tearing at the inside of his cheek. It's too much for him. The sweltering heat of Obi-Wan's body and affection. Anakin can't help it. Whining while he touches his Master's perfect pussy, he humps at his leg, his cock smearing pre-come into his leg hair. The friction is amazing, and he's so very close.
“Don't you dare come.” Obi-Wan warns, voice suddenly stern, and Anakin immediately stops humping his leg with a pained groan.
He tries focusing on what his hand is doing, but it does little to quell his near hysteric arousal. Anakin wishes he could see more, that the angle was better, that he could watch himself fuck his fingers in and out of Obi-Wan's sopping pussy. He wants-
Obi-Wan senses the tail end of his thought before he can even process it. “Do you want to put your mouth on me?” He asks, breathy, tongue tracing up the shell of Anakin's ear. He shivers, gasping.
“Yesyesyes Please-!” He'll die. He'll combust right here on the spot if Obi-Wan doesn't let him, he's sure of it.
Obi-Wan hums in amusement, an almost laugh that morphs into another breathy sigh. He uncurls from him, laying flat on his back as Anakin reluctantly withdraws his fingers. “Go on then.”
Utterly unable to help himself, he brings his dripping fingers to his mouth, and licks them clean, slides them in his mouth and over his tongue to suck every last bit of Obi-Wan off of himself. They both moan– Obi-Wan at his brazen obscenity, and Anakin at the taste of him. Savory-sweet and so uniquely him.
“How do I taste?” He asks, a little coy.
“Good Master, so good.” He sucks at the tips of his fingers a final time, and Obi-Wan's foot nudges at his calf. Anakin doesn't tease, he crawls between his spread legs eagerly. The darkness is still bothersome, but Anakin's eyes have mostly adjusted the faint blue light. Once he's laid comfortably between Obi-Wan's thighs, he stares, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Laying his hands in the creases of Obi-Wan's thighs, his thumbs press against his pussy lips to spread him further, and Obi-Wan squeaks, flinching slightly. “Anakin! Must you ogle?”
“I can't help it,” he says, sounding drunker than he has all night. Before Obi-Wan can chastise him, he leans in to press a worshipful kiss to him. It's chaste and soft and Obi-Wan whines, one of his hands gently settling on the top of his head. Anakin mouths at him like that for a little while– making out with his cunt with filthy, hesitant licks, moaning and trying not to grind his cock into the mattress.
Obi-Wan doesn't seem to have any complaints, despite his inexperience, so he grows a little bolder, dragging the flat of his tongue from his hole to his clit and his hips jerk as he keens. “Oh fuck, Anakin, yes! Lick my cunt- ah!”
Anakin laps at him hungrily, sloppily– he can't get enough– Obi-Wan could keep him right here with his head between his thighs for as long as he likes. Anakin wouldn't dream of complaining.
“Tongue fuck me.” Obi-Wan pants, strained and stuck sounding. Anakin immediately plunges his tongue into him as far as he can get, and Obi-Wan moans so loudly it actually makes Anakin fret someone might hear them. But not enough to make him take any pause. So what if someone heard? Let them listen to how pretty he could make his Master sing with just his tongue. He drives his tongue into him relentlessly– a starving boy who wants to lay claim to every bit of Obi-Wan, even his insides. Mark him with slick spit and red bite marks.
Anakin's hips shift into the bed of their own accord, desperate beyond measure for friction, even though the endeavor is a precarious one. There's no doubt there will be a wet spot on Obi-Wan's clean sheets after this. “Is your cock drooling for me Anakin? Do you need to fuck Master's pussy?”
“Please Master,” He wishes he could be in multiple places at once. That he could have his mouth on him and his cock inside him and his lips on his, his tongue in his soft mouth, his cock in his soft, willing mouth.
“Make me come Anakin, then you can fuck me.” The words are syrupy and breathless despite their commanding implication. He must be getting close, and the revelation has Anakin's toes curling.
Anakin swipes his fingers over him, gathering spit and slick both to rub at his clit while he tries in vain to get his tongue deeper. Obi-Wan's legs tense and shake as he pants and whimpers building to a heady crescendo. A sharp pain quite literally rips him away from Obi-Wan as he pulls his hair– his commanding, pale eyes gone bleary and pleading.
“My clit, Anakin, please.” He descends on him immediately, licking at his tender, swollen clit mercilessly. The sound that rips its way out of Obi-Wan's throat is something Anakin will be imagining with a fist around his cock for the rest of his life. “Oh, fucking suck on it!”
He obeys, sealing his lips around it and sucking, moving his tongue in pressured circles. Obi-Wan's hips twitch with each pass of his tongue, and Anakin pins him down with both hands to keep him still. The only thing that keeps him from blowing his load all over himself is Obi-Wan's warning. That, and he'd never forgive himself if he didn't get to feel his perfect cunt wrapped around his cock. “Anakin! Don't stop– you're going to make me come– I'm going to-!”
His warning pitches into a wanton keen, thighs clenching around Anakin's head, wailing as his whole body seizes up with the force of his orgasm. Yes. Yes. Anakin made him feel this way, brought him such raw, unfiltered pleasure. He deserves it, and Anakin will give it to him whenever he wants. No one else.
Fingers pull harshly at his short hair, but he keeps sucking and flicking his tongue, forcing whines and whimpers from his Master's flushed, wet lips.
“Anakin, Anakin!” Obi-Wan cries his name in pleading and rapture, and Anakin reluctantly relents once his legs have stopped shaking, and he's shuddering from the lightest sensation on his reddened clit. When he looks up, Obi-Wan is slumped against the sheets, head thrown back with an arm slung across his face, chest heaving.
“Was that good, Master?” If the way excess slick still drips off Anakin's chin is any indication, yes, he'd done a fantastic job, but nothing else in the entire galaxy feels like Obi-Wan's praise.
“Mm, yes dear, exceptional,” he says, voice gruff and low as he shifts to look down at him. The hand still on his head caresses down the side of Anakin's face, until his thumb catches his plump bottom lip, just barely dipping inside his mouth to touch his teeth. “I wasn't aware you could take instruction so well.”
Anakin snorts, grinning and playfully biting at Obi-Wan's thumb. “When I'm properly motivated.”
“Ever an insolent boy.” Obi-Wan chastises, brushing some sweat-slick hair off his own forehead. Does he even know how gorgeous he is? Anakin desperately wants to kiss him again, so he does. He climbs up his body until they're chest to chest, and Obi-Wan meets him halfway– tilting his head and smoothing his hands up his shoulder blades. Obi-Wan licks deep into his mouth, undoubtedly tasting himself on Anakin’s tongue, and he wonders how much more he can take before Obi-Wan kills him.
“Fucking Force Obi-Wan.” Anakin can barely stand how casually and comfortably filthy he is. Proper, posh, prudish. All things he was so sure of he doesn't know if he'll ever reconcile the two versions of Obi-Wan he now has in his head. Sophisticated and perverse.
“Do you want to put your cock in me?” He asks, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. So very handsome.
“Yes,” Anakin gasps, so overcome with the enormity of his desire that the single word is all he can grit out.
“And where, exactly, do you want to put this?” Obi-Wan reaches between them, guides Anakin's cock, sliding the tip through his slick folds. Anakin nearly chokes on the whine that blooms in his throat as it catches on his soaking entrance. Obi-Wan's fingers squeeze tight around him– say it.
Anakin lets his mind empty, allows his mouth to fall open and spill without obstruction. “In your pussy, Master, in your cunt. Please let me. I'll fuck you so, so good.”
“Force Anakin.” He lets go of him, one leg hitching around his hip, urging him forward. “Fuck me. I want to feel that big cock of yours, all of it.”
Breathing deep, Anakin cants his hips, presses in, and it's unlike anything he could've possibly imagined. Everything, all of him is so much better than he fantasized. Warm and wet and velvet-soft. The clench of his pussy is divine, perfect. Once Anakin's hips are flush against him, he whines, wishing he could get deeper, fill up every crack and crevice inside Obi-Wan until the only thing he can think is his name.
“You're so thick darling, filling me up so nicely.” Tilting his head, he looks down between them, and Anakin mirrors him. It's too dark to see anything but the shadowed base of his cock blending into Obi-Wan's body. The silhouette still makes him throb full body as he groans. “Sit back, pull me over your thighs sweetheart, I know you want to see, I know you want to watch yourself fuck into my pussy.”
“Fuck, Obi-Wan,” he curses, grabbing him by the hips. He slides out halfway, sitting back on his heels, and he watches himself sink back in when he pulls Obi-Wan over his thighs. Gods yes, he could watch himself fuck into Obi-Wan's pretty cunt all night. Forever.
Next time, because there will be a next time– his Master couldn't be cruel enough to let him have just a single taste. Anakin would love to watch him ride him. Bounce on his cock and use him like a toy.
“Anakin.” Could he feel his thoughts? See them? Or does he just like the way his lips feel around his name? Both, maybe. Both, he hopes.
Obi-Wan keens, trailing a hand down his body to spread his pussy around Anakin's cock. Taking him perfectly. The sight is nearly too much for his overestimated mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bites his lip so hard it hurts. “Does it look good, Anakin? Do you want to come in me?”
Anakin whines, fingernails digging into Obi-Wan's hips, leaving red indents on his skin. It looks like the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. Will ever lay his eyes on. It's going to make him come so hard he might die. “Don't say that, Master, or I really will.”
“You can do it whenever you want to. Fill me up with it, sweet boy.” His face is tender and flushed from his orgasm, eyes soft and lidded. He means it. Fuck.
“You're so good, Master, so pretty… So pink and tight and warm and soft.” He's babbling, rocking into him shallowly. Knowing as soon as he starts to fuck him for real, he won't be able to last. Not with Obi-Wan’s silky pussy milking him for all he's worth. It's a miracle he's held on for as long as he has.
“Harder, Anakin, make me feel it.” Every word out of his filthy mouth pushes Anakin closer to his breaking point. His desire to drag this out is rapidly being overtaken by his need to come deep in his Master's pussy. So he gives Obi-Wan what he's begging for.
With a half-growl, Anakin pulls out, watches until only the ruddy tip is left inside. Then, he thrusts back in, relishing the sweat-damp slap of his hips against Obi-Wan's ass. Obi-Wan wails, cunt clenching around him beautifully as he follows through with another harsh thrust. Anakin watches. Watches him take the full length of his cock over and over. Watches the faint light flicker over the edges of Obi-Wan's body– his pink nipples, his hairy tits. His toned stomach, muscles flexing each time Anakin fucks into him.
“That's it- ah! Fuck me just like that, just like that sweetheart.” Thread by thread, Anakin unravels. At how Obi-Wan feels around him, at his praise, the noises he makes as Anakin fucks him. At times, Anakin is sure there's no one in the universe that feels with the intensity he does, that no one has ever felt as Anakin does right now– like the Force is singing in every cell of his body. Does Obi-Wan feel it too?
All the blood in his veins feels like it's pooling in his cock, so there's none left to make him think before he speaks. “You wanted to be my first, didn't you?”
When Obi-Wan's only response is a wet gasp, Anakin bears his teeth, pulling Obi-Wan's body to meet his cock half-way like he weighs nothing. He can sense it– Obi-Wan's hot, bone-deep shame. The lump that forms in his throat even as Anakin makes his back arch in pleasure. “I wanted you to have it, Master. My virginity. I would've given it to you years ago. It's always been yours.”
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan writhes, his cunt a velvet vice around him. Anakin won't force him to admit it, but he knows it's true. He can feel it as sure as he can feel the Force twist and surge between them. Anakin will not, cannot force him to say it.
He says it anyway. Hushed and gravel-rough. “Yes, Anakin. I wanted it. I wanted to kiss you first. Touch you first. Fuck you first.”
You're mine. You've always been mine. We've always belonged to each other. The words ring in his head, thrum in the marrow of his bones. He isn't sure who they belong to, and it doesn't matter. Anakin would choose him– this, over and over again. Always. Anything else is unfathomable.
Anakin loses the ability to speak. To form coherent thoughts. There's only Obi-Wan and the obscene, wet sounds of Anakin fucking into his warm, slick pussy. “Uh uh uh-!”
“Are you going to come?” Obi-Wan pants, razor-thin. The question presses dangerously against the delicate thread of Anakin's fraying restraint. He didn't know it was possible to be pulled so taut– like he'll cease to be if he doesn't thrust in deep and paint Obi-Wan's insides with his come.
“Yes Master, I- fuck!” His hips stutter. Release coiling impossibly tight and molten-hot in his blood. He can't, he can't–
“Come in me, come in me! Make me messy and dripping with it. Want you to watch it leak out of me.” Obi-Wan's in near hysterics, mewling and clenching and clawing at the sheets, while Anakin tries his best to keep up. Anakin eyes roll back, mouth falling open to let a guttural sound escape him. For a moment, he's white-hot all over, rutting shallow and deep as he comes, spilling into his plush, warm, perfect Master.
Obi-Wan's heels dig into his back, keeping him buried inside to milk his cock of every last drop. Anakin collapses forward, forehead pressing into Obi-Wan's furred chest. He keeps moving his hips lazily, just to feel how messy and slick he's made him.
Their heaving breaths and his ash-rabbit quick heartbeat is all that rings in his ears for a few blissful moments as his cock goes soft and slips out. Obi-Wan whimpers at the loss, hugging him close as they both go limp with a sunsetting afterglow.
“Satisfied, my dear boy?” Obi-Wan's thighs go slack around his waist, and as loathe as he is to move, he does it to get a good look at his Master's used pussy. Leaning back on his heels again, he keeps Obi-Wan's legs spread, admiring his reddened, come-slick cunt.
Instead of answering, Anakin drags his fingers upward through the pearlescent mess, lightly brushing over his still sensitive clit. He isn't really thinking when he brings those fingers to his lips and sucks the tips into his mouth, humming at the obscene mixture. If Obi-Wan's gasp is anything to go by, he enjoys the sight. Or finds it astonishingly crass. Both, probably.
“Are you so insatiable?” He sounds scolding, but his eyes gleam, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
Grinning wide, Anakin tries not to laugh as he untangles from between Obi-Wan's legs and flops on the bed beside him. “No. You're just that good, Master.”
Obi-Wan scoffs, rolls his eyes. “How would you know? I'm the only person you've ever fucked.”
“You're the only one I've ever wanted to.” Anakin can't even remember the first time he tried to picture Obi-Wan naked– if it was innocent at first, or if he's always found something about him physically enticing. All of his feelings are so deeply interwoven with the familial love and respect he holds for him, it's impossible to tell where his admiration twists into soul-deep lust.
“Don't play coy with me. You were tripping over yourself trying to get that senator to breathe in your direction.” If he didn't know better, he'd think he sensed a tinge of bitterness in Obi-Wan's tone.
The statement stings more than he expects, and he blinks at him with parted lips, gathering his thoughts. It's true that he never tried to hide his attraction to her, but she and Obi-Wan occupy very different spaces in his heart. Anakin shakes his head. “I wanted you more. Since I knew what wanting was.”
“You don't have to flatter me, Anakin.”
“I'm not! I had a crush on Padmé sure, but it was… innocent. I don't know. I never thought of her with a hand around my dick. That was always you, Master.” From the first time he'd ever touched himself to now, Obi-Wan has always been the recipient of his most perverse daydreams. He never thought he'd be admitting it out loud.
That seems to strike something in him, for it takes him a moment to respond.
“How crass.” It isn't a reprimand, not the way he says it– with an almost reverent thickness. Does he like the thought of Anakin curled up at night, whispering his name like a prayer as he streaked come over his knuckles?
“Did you know?” He almost doesn't want to know the answer, but Anakin asks anyway.
“Know what?” Obi-Wan cocks a brow at him, and Anakin can't help but feel like he's wandered into a minefield.
He swallows thickly, clears his throat a little. His fingers twist in the sheets, eyes darting away from Obi-Wan's scrutinizing gaze. “How much I wanted you.”
He answers without pause, and if Anakin were standing, it might have punched enough air from his chest to put him on his knees. “Of course I did. You aren't subtle.”
“I'm not?” His cheeks were still pink from their lovemaking, but they bloom with fresh, red heat as he thinks of every single time he might have ogled Obi-Wan when he was sure he wouldn't notice.
When Obi-Wan laughs at him, he grows so uncomfortably hot he thinks he might burn up inside and die. “Is that a genuine question?”
“Don't tease me, Master.” Groaning, Anakin throws his hand over his eyes, biting at the inside of his cheek and pressing his face into the covers. Obi-Wan huffs in quiet laughter, one of his hands reaching to pet at him. Anakin relaxes, cracking his fingers to peer up at Obi-Wan, who's propping himself up on one arm above him.
“Would you like to come shower with me? If you can get that cock of yours hard again, I might let you go again.” Oh. He tries not to react like a slobbering animal, but the way he perks up has Obi-Wan chuckling before he can correct himself.
“I'll be ready to go again before you even get the water the way you like it.” Just thinking about pressing Obi-Wan up against the shower glass is enough to stir his spent cock.
“I'm sure.” he says, playful, as he slides his legs off the side of the bed and stands, giving Anakin another pleasant view of his ass. He wonders if Obi-Wan would let him bend him over, put him on all fours. If he'd arch his back nice and pretty for him.
Anakin wants to ask him what made him give in? Why now? How long had he felt the same? All questions he knows will spoil the moment, and he'd like to enjoy it to the fullest. They could wait.
Tomorrow. But for now, he's eager to see how beautiful Obi-Wan looks with warm rivulets of water cascading over his bare skin while Anakin fucks him.