I'll give you two prompts and you can choose one if you wish :)
1) Anakin seeing Obi-Wan dressed up in non-Jedi clothes (maybe for the first time, or first time since he hit puberty or whatever)
2) Anakin or Obi-Wan watching the other interact sweetly with younglings and having feelings about it
ooh these are so cute :3 option 2 below the cut for you!
this is perhaps the most wholesome thing I've ever written lol
Obi-Wan made his way down the hallway of the Temple, admiring the way the sun was shining through the windows and falling warmly on the tiled floors and sturdy columns. He always liked this time of day at the Temple, when the brightness of the sun had shifted to a warm, sticky gold, imbuing the already beautiful space with a reverent glow.
He noticed with a soft brush of nostalgia that it seemed busier than it usually was these days, with so many masters, and even padawans, away at war. But today, for one reason or another, the hallway seemed bustling, and Obi-Wan saw more than a few familiar faces as he made his way to the training rooms.
As he rounded the corner, he heard a familiar voice and smiled to himself, peeking around the door but doing his best to keep out of sight.
Anakin had volunteered to teach the initiates today. They were at the Temple for a brief respite while the 501st and 212th were granted shore leave, and the Council had decided to take the opportunity for some much-needed repairs to the Resolute and the Negotiator. So, while both their men and their ships were out of active duty, Anakin and Obi-Wan had miraculously been granted reprieve, too.
Obi-Wan had been surprised by Anakin's uncharacteristic offer to teach, but then again, Anakin had been in a good mood lately (as good as anyone could be in a time of war, that is).
Obi-Wan had been in a good mood lately, too.
This thing between them was new. It wasn't something Obi-Wan had ever expected, and while it filled Obi-Wan with a slew of conflicted emotions, the strongest, to his surprise, was a bright, unreasonable joy.
The war had changed them both. Perhaps it had made them more amenable to bending the tenets of the Jedi Code. Perhaps it had made them closer, forging the intimacy that could only come from placing your life in someone's hands on the battle field again and again. Perhaps it had made them both lonely.
Perhaps it was all the above.
But of the many lessons the war had taught Obi-Wan, one in particular was this: in a time of war, you have to take the good things where you could find them.
And Anakin was a very good thing.
Obi-Wan chanced another look around the corner, and was greeted by the warm sight of Anakin, seated on the floor of the dim training room with his eyes closed, surrounded by a gaggle of younglings in the same pose. He'd been introducing the initiates to their early saber forms, but apparently that part of the lesson was done, and Anakin had moved on to a meditation.
Obi-Wan smiled to himself at the irony of Anakin Skywalker teaching anyone how to meditate.
But he appeared to be fully immersed in the job, and the younglings were following along with the all the endearing seriousness of a small child mimicking someone they desperately admire, their eyes tightly shut.
"Now," Anakin began speaking again. "Take another deep breath with me -"
The room filled with a chorus of exaggerated breaths.
"-and let it go," Anakin continued. "Reach for the force around you. Pay attention to what you feel. Can you feel it anywhere in your body? Can you feel any of your classmates in the force?"
The children, young as they were, were wise enough to know the questions were rhetorical.
"Focus on the present moment, and try to clear your head of any other thoughts. I know it can be hard, at least it always is for me. My master once explained it to me like watching a river. The river is always in motion, always changing, but you can find tranquility in watching it flow. Imagine each thought like a leaf, floating down the stream. You acknowledge it and then you let it pass."
Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming swell of fondness as he watched Anakin. He'd had many opportunities to witness Anakin's talents on the battlefield, in the salles. But he'd rarely gotten to see him like this.
The room was hushed, now. Obi-Wan could feel the stillness in the force, too. The younglings were unpracticed, their meditations clumsy, but they'd still managed to settle into the force enough to create the special sort of peace that only came from group meditation.
Part of Obi-Wan felt tempted the join, to sink himself into the soft glow of peace and companionship. But in truth, he was enjoying watching just as much.
After a while, Obi-Wan couldn't resist giving Anakin a small brush in the force. It was featherlight, so as not to startle him, just enough to let Anakin know he was there.
His touch was met with a rush of warmth from Anakin. He reached back, rubbing affectionately against Obi-Wan, wrapping around him in the force. Obi-Wan allowed the enthusiastic greeting, letting them stay entwined as Anakin slowly drifted up from his meditation.
"Alright," Anakin said with a clearing of his throat. "Now, start to come back to your awareness of the present moment, of your body. Wiggle your fingers," he instructed, and the roomful of younglings complied, raising little hands in the air. "Wiggle your toes, and take another deep breath with me."
The room was again filled with the sounds of small breaths.
"Very good. Now, open your eyes."
Anakin, and the initiates, blinked back to life. His eyes found Obi-Wan, where he was now standing in the back of the room, out of the way.
"That was very good. Thank you for letting me teach you today," Anakin said, sounding a bit bashful now that he knew Obi-Wan was watching.
"Thank you, Master Skywalker!" the younglings echoed.
Anakin dismissed the class and the children slowly filtered out, several greeting Obi-Wan with clumsy bows as they passed.
Once the room was empty, Anakin approached him.
"Obi-Wan," he said with a wide grin. "Why didn't you tell me you were here sooner?"
"Ah, well, I didn't want to make you nervous." Obi-Wan said. "And, I was enjoying observing," he added truthfully. "You did well, Anakin."
Anakin flushed at the praise, his smile going shyly tight-lipped and pleased. "Thank you, Master," he said with a nod that was almost a bow.
When they'd begun...this...Obi-Wan had drilled into Anakin the importance of concealing it from the rest of the Jedi, of keeping it discrete at the Temple. Anakin, being, well, Anakin, had responded with delight at the shared conspiracy, putting on a mischievous, forced formality that Obi-Wan presumed was fooling exactly no one.
Obi-Wan found it so charming he couldn't bring himself to care.
But it perhaps made Obi-Wan a hypocrite, then, when after only a brief glance towards the door, Obi-Wan crossed the few steps between them to drag Anakin into a small alcove in the back of the room, and pulled him into a deep, claiming kiss.
Anakin startled only briefly before responding eagerly, tangling his hands in the fabric of Obi-Wan's robes, leaning into the palm that cradled Anakin's face. Anakin was warm and close and Obi-Wan couldn't help himself from licking into Anakin's mouth, sliding his lips against his and relishing their plush softness.
His bright, ridiculous, brave, complex Anakin.
When they parted, after a few long moments, they were both breathless.
"What was that for?" Anakin asked dazedly, leaning his forehead against Obi-Wan's with his eyes still closed, sounding not at all displeased about it.
Obi-Wan smiled to himself as he stroked his thumb across Anakin's cheek. "No reason."
Dogboy Dennis who's stuck living at the shelter until he's adopted out. He'd often come back from a shift, exhausted and still in dirty scrubs, just to have a stranger run up to him and start touching his ears in awe.
He tolerated the first few months, but after a while he started giving up on the idea of finding the right family. He'd snarl at people, completely shutting down when they'd try to interact with him. Deep down, he just wanted to go home, even though he has nowhere to go. As soon as he's alone, the guilt hits him. Hard.
He was a smart young man. He had a serious job that he spent years in school studying for- but nobody seemed to care about that. All they were looking for just another mindless lapdog, and Dennis refused to be just another house boy. Was self respect the price he had to pay for love? Were dogs like him worthy of love?
Then, his worst nightmare came true. Robby visited the shelter. Dennis tried with all his might to make sure he went unseen, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. Before Dennis knows it, they're in the socializing room together, talking. He's the first person he doesn't pin his ears at. He's the first person he can talk about his interests with. He'd the first person he lets pet him.
"They have you labeled as 'aggressive', but, I know you're a good boy, Den."
Dennis whimpers, closing his eyes at the touch as his tail starts to swish behind him. Dennis didn't know how different those two words could sound when they came from Robby's mouth. That's all it takes for the him to leave with the man, a brand new green collar fastened around his neck with care. Suddenly, the idea of being someone's lapdog wasn't so bad anymore.
since I read the Disney fic I've been dying for some kind of role reversal... I want to see Anakin as a disgruntled Disney employee
okay....I loved this so much it ended up like. over a thousand words lol. thank you for the idea it was so much fun <3
I give you disgruntled bartender anakin and horny vacationer obi-wan!
(some context, there is a park at disney with areas for a bunch of different countries, and it is a thing to "drink around the world" where you get a drink at every spot)
“I gotta go take a piss,” Quinlan said, rising from his stool and departing into the crowd with a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan saw him off with a nod and turned his attention back to his beer.
He cast his eyes around the faux-English tavern he’d found himself in, replete with deafening music piping jauntily through the speakers and decor that was surely meant to be a very twee facsimile of some bygone era. Just one of many wonders he was certain were in store for him today.
To his left, two men, who seemed to be already drunk, staggered up from their barstools, leaving only a dollar bill and a handful of change behind.
“Assholes,” the hot bartender scoffed as he surveyed the pitiful fare.
Obi-Wan had been - well, not watching him, per se, but noticing him, at least. It was hard not to, with the way he looked.
Obi-Wan snorted at the comment, drawing the bartender’s attention.
“Can I help you?” he said, sounding pissed off. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.
“Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, friendly? Something about the happiest place on earth?” Obi-Wan offered, he hoped charmingly, pairing it with a smile. He was being a bit of a dick, he knew, but he was starting to feel a bit tipsy from the two drinks they’d had and, well.
Sarcasm had always been his preferred form of flirting.
The bartender rolled his eyes. “That’s Disneyland. And you try dealing with tourists forty hours a week and see how you like it,” he answered dismissively.
“Plus,” the bartender, Anakin, his nametag read, continued, “I’m giving them the authentic experience of a gruff British barkeep.” He’d stepped closer, and leaned forward onto the bar as he spoke, resting his elbows on the sticky wood only a few inches away from Obi-Wan’s. “You sound like you’re from across the pond,” Anakin continued derisively. “How am I doing?”
“Ah. Very authentically rude,” Obi-Wan teased back. “Though I must say the food leaves much to be desired,” he added, looking down at the dismal fish and chips he’d discarded beside him.
Anakin laughed. Obi-Wan found he quite liked the sound. “Well, you can’t blame me for that,” he said, tossing the rag he’d been holding easily over his shoulder. Obi-Wan followed the movement of his broad shoulders with interest.
“Are you here visiting?” Anakin asked, still leaning close. Someone down the bar seemed to be trying to get his attention, and Obi-Wan watched with some small satisfaction as Anakin resolutely ignored them.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’ve been very unfortunately roped into drinking around the world,” he said ruefully. He was certainly too old to be having eleven drinks in one night, but Quinlan had insisted.
Anakin rolled his eyes. “Of course. Where’d you start?” he asked.
“Cananda, I think,” Obi-Wan answered, recalling the watery beer he’d consumed beside some sort of fake waterfall.
Anakin grinned. “Mexico last then. Be careful with the margaritas, they’ll fuck you up,” he said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Obi-Wan said, returning Anakin’s smile with one of his own.
“So, are you here with your…boyfriend?” Anakin asked, tilting his head towards Quinlan’s empty stool.
Obi-Wan snorted. “Definitely not.”
“Because you’re straight?” Anakin asked, cocking his head to the side, eyeing Obi-Wan with clear intent.
Quinlan returned just as Obi-Wan was tucking the receipt with Anakin’s number into his wallet.
“You’re shitting me,” Quinlan said, eyeing the paper with the incriminating digits as Obi-Wan carefully folded it. “I leave for five minutes and you find a boyfriend.”
Obi-Wan shrugged unapologetically. Anakin gave him a final grin from where he stood down the bar, finally taking someone else’s order.
“You’re not going to ditch me to get some dick, are you?” Quinlan said as they made their way back out into the sweltering heat.
“Of course not,” Obi-Wan answered easily. “He doesn’t get off until ten.”
***
At 10:45, Anakin knocked on the door of Obi-Wan’s hotel room. He was still in his work outfit, which Obi-Wan could now see involved breaches, but he’d removed his name tag. He was smiling, just as enticingly handsome as he’d been earlier.
“Well, I do love a man in uniform,” Obi-Wan said as he pulled Anakin inside.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into a bruising kiss. Anakin started at the suddenness before relaxing into it, returning the kiss eagerly. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and Obi-Wan let his own loop around Anakin’s neck.
“Jesus,” Anakin said as they parted. “You are drunk. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Obi-Wan scoffed. “I’m fine,” he said, leading Anakin over to the bed, though his point was somewhat undercut by the way he tumbled down onto its surface as soon as his legs hit the edge. “And yes, I do,” he added as he pulled Anakin down with him.
“It was the margaritas, wasn’t it? I did warn you,” Anakin said, following to brace himself over Obi-Wan.
“Shut up,” Obi-Wan said, pulling Anakin back down into a kiss.
“Are you even going to be able to get it up, old man?” Anakin said, with a teasing meanness that, ironically, went straight to Obi-Wan’s cock.
“Actually, I had something else in mind,” Obi-Wan breathed back as Anakin began to kiss down his neck.
Ten minutes later, they were both naked and sweating under the air conditioning as Obi-Wan ground himself down onto Anakin’s cock.
Anakin had his arms folded behind his head, showing off the broad expanse of his tanned chest. The smooth, muscled skin rose and fell tantalizingly as he panted.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s it baby. Use me like a toy,” he breathed.
Obi-Wan had no problem following that direction. He lifted himself up on his knees before driving back down again, moaning as Anakin’s cock rammed deliciously into his prostate.
Anakin lifted a hand to grope at Obi-Wan’s cock, which, to his shame, was only half-hard after all. But he didn’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed, too focused on grinding himself down onto Anakin again and again.
“I was right,” Anakin panted in a half-groan, giving Obi-Wan’s cock a squeeze just the right side of too-hard. “You would have been useless with this.”
That was enough to push Obi-Wan over the edge. He came with a wail, his cock spurting out a feeble string of cum onto the fine hairs on Anakin’s stomach.
Anakin moaned, gripping Obi-Wan’s hips and fucking up into him until he, too, fell over the edge, grinding Obi-Wan down onto him as he filled the condom.
Obi-Wan fell forward onto Anakin’s chest, breathing heavy as his head spun from the euphoria of his orgasm. And the margaritas, probably. He really was quite drunk.
They lay there for a few minutes, panting together. It was possible Obi-Wan might have dozed off a bit. It had been far too long since he’d been fucked, least of all something so vigorous and thorough.
He was pulled back into awareness when Anakin spoke. “So,” he said, flipping them over easily and looking down at Obi-Wan. “Wanna go again?”
***
The next day, Obi-Wan looked with some amount of bleak humor at the pitiful photo. He was seated on space mountain, looking decidedly green around the gills, wearing sunglasses even in the darkness of the ride. His hangover was relentless, and the bright lights and overstimulating chaos of the park didn’t help. He regretted letting Quinlan drag him onto the ride.
Obi-Wan snapped a photo on his phone of the pitiful image and sent it to Anakin. He was off this afternoon, which Obi-Wan knew because he’d let Anakin sleep over last night. He’d also let him fuck Obi-Wan again in the shower this morning, letting him cum directly into Obi-Wan’s ass. Obi-Wan never claimed to be a smart man.
He didn’t have to wait long for Anakin’s answer.
Anakin Bartender: LOL
Anakin Bartender: let me know when you get sick of the parks and youre ready for a real ride
Park the Shark x reader about anything please it's a drought out here 😭😭😭 soft shark mean shark whatever shark GIVE ME SHARK
( gif credits to the lovely @parktheeshark for this crisp gifset ! )
☤ ─ (UN)CHARTED WATERS ;
summ. An old haunt sails into the ED. Park the Shark becomes human, again.
pairing. brendon “shark” park / f!ex!reader
w.count. 2.5k!
a/n. A new imagine! More sea-motifs for our boy. Exploring a softer vers. of him as per requested, & tried to remain true to his canon-personality of a biting asshole by weaving both together as naturally as I could for realism!
IT TAKES PLENTY to catch the infamous Park the Shark off-guard, let alone bait out any other reaction from him other than the routine glower he always wears to match with his glacial demeanour.
Not even the MCI that had the Surgical Department on their wit’s end working hand over fist and running amok had rattled him. No, he’d been even-keeled in navigating that absolute shitstorm of a day with relative ease, and only further solidified his copper-bottomed reputation that his glasswater-calm is a borderline mythological feat.
…Until today, that is.
He’s yanking a fresh set of nitriles from the wall as he slices through the trauma-bay after the third page of the day into the ED, face stygian-dark with pure irritation as Robby shoots him an apologetic look.
“What now?” he bites, tone raw and stripped of all expected politesse. “Better be worth my damn time.”
It’s been a shitty work day to say the least:
He’s been worn down to the marrow after captaining seven eventful surgeries on his feet, running on auto-pilot and fueled by an empty stomach to match, all while Gloria keeps trying to walk him down the plank and into another tirade of playing nice to your coworkers, because this is the second HR report in a month in regards to this infamous Shark attitude of yours, Dr. Park—
—does a double-take.
Feels a drop in his gut he hasn’t felt in years.
A rusty yet familiar thump of his heart, resounding in the proverbial, abyssal deep of Davy Jones' locker.
There, seated upright on the edge of a gurney in Trauma-2, is a scratched up patient hooked into a tangle of IV’s with one arm limp; unconsciously bracing her loose shoulder in what he can clearly diagnose in a beat as a dislocation. A pinched expression adorns her bruised face, where a spot of dried blood has been smudged from brow to hairline.
Park seizes, blindsided.
Looks like the wind has just been ripped from his sails.
…You always had that effect on him, hadn’t you?
“Dr. Park,” Robby repeats, confused at the abrupt halt. Tries to decipher the windswept look on the surgeon’s face.
It looks like an ironic combination of having been deep-plunged into the arctic chill of the sea by a rogue wave; and as if he’d just breached a terrible whitecap to take the first breath of fresh air in his life— The permanent frown Park has on his face has given way into something impossibly subdued; something unrepentantly sentimental.
And you must’ve recognised him too, surely, because you’re meeting his blue, stunned gaze with this strangely profound gleam in your wide-eyes: Not malice or fear, but a certain wistfulness— as if you’ve accidentally sailed yourself back into charted waters again.
…Oh, Robby susses, after following Park’s sightline. Casts a wayward glance at Garcia at the other corner of the bay, whose lips have also parted in slow realisation.
Is this the ex?
(As comes with all folklore or tales of a vicious monster is a backstory, after all. And the old word goes that: Park the Shark hadn’t always been this fantastical, beastly asshole of a character— no, he’d been transformed into it after he’d lost his proverbial Heart of the Sea; turned into a spiteful man like some Greek tragedy.
But that’s as far as anyone dare speculate, of course.)
Park finally kickstarts himself into moving; resumes with snapping his gloves into place. Has to actively force himself out of being tidally-locked: You the anchoring moon to his turbulent seas.
The pause is fleeting enough that if nobody had been paying close attention they’d have missed his startled half-step— But regardless, the shift in the air is noticeably different now: a lack of significant ripple in the room; No smooth, prow-of-the-ship momentum as he passes.
It’s almost as if Park is warily measuring where his place is in here; if he’s allowed to take up your space.
“What the hell happened?” he grits out to Whitaker, voice riding a more specific cadence now than his usual growl of annoyance. It has the rest of the older, more senior staff that are known to him whipping their heads up in curious reaction.
A tone of neither concern nor alarm— No, Park sounded afraid.
You’re still staring at him when he glances at you discreetly.
Brendon, you nearly greet. He can read it in the flash of your eyes; hear your siren-like voice echoing sweetly in his head. The same instinct to call out the syllables of your name had lurched in him, too— having only barely managed to swallow it back in front of everybody.
“Oh, not her. The priority is in the other roo—” Whitaker begins, throwing a thumb over his shoulder only to get silenced with a pointed glare.
“Answer my question,” he snarls at him. A glint of canines.
(If you hadn’t felt like a walking, talking contusion you might’ve found it endearing that he’s this fraught over you; might’ve teased him for lashing out at his coworkers.)
Dr. Robby swiftly rolls the portable X-Ray with Donnie’s help. “Anterior shoulder dislocation,” he presents quickly, letting him reckon the screen. “MVC case. She got clipped while crossing the street by our drunk driver next door over.”
That raises the hairs on the back of Park’s neck. Can’t help but rundown the potential traumatic injuries like a narrative in his head. Drunk driver? comes the seethe under his breath.
“Who’s got a posterior sternoclavicular displacement, by the way,” Garcia points out curtly, only to be dismissed with a hiss of: Is he stable? Then he can wait, as long as he doesn’t move another damn inch and jams a vessel.
“She cleared for everything else?” he continues, after trenchantly ignoring Garcia’s raised hands in defense.
“We’re waiting on CT to queue her in,” Whitaker says meekly. “But so far she’s perfectly stable.”
Park grunts. An undefinable muscle tics in his jaw. “CT won’t give a shit about a dislocation. Call ‘em up before they have her waiting down here an hour. Tell them I personally requested.”
Your voice is hesitant. “Hold on, is something wrong that I need to be rushed?”
“No,” he replies reflexively, in surprisingly soothing cadence and sudden unison with Robby.
It has Whitaker wondering if he’s hearing things. Park snaps his mouth shut.
“Dr. Park here is just concerned. The quicker we get you in for a CT, the quicker we can rule out any potential internal injuries that the X-Ray might not have caught,” Robby continues to clarify, by way of meaning: You’re clearly special to him, since he wants to skip the line for you— and I’m not dumb enough to get in the Shark’s way, thank you very much.
“Will they fix my shoulder before, or…?” Your eyes fall naturally to Park’s. Everyone notices it.
“It would be wise to reduce it right now. Whatever is most comfortable for you,” Robby offers, before turning to shoot an affirming nod at Park as he mumbles, We can take it from here, Shark.
And, well, it’s probably best, isn’t it? Park ought not to stay. Ought to busy himself with more pressing matters and get out of your hair before he endures the anguish of you sending him out yourself for how he’d cut you loose all those years ag—
“Wait,” you blurt, voice tenuous.
Park stops short.
So does the room: A deadwater stillness, freezing in terrified anticipation.
“If it won’t take too long… Could you be the one to reset my arm?”
A beat.
Whitaker, alarmed, stumbles out an excuse in a heartbeat; ever the one to save the trauma bay from that tension the Orthopods always tend to surround themselves with: an oceanic pressure, a temperamental current. That a case as minor as a displacement is, quite literally, beneath them.
“Oh, uh, rest assured us Emergency Physicians are, are perfectly capable with—”
“The patient is advocating for herself,” Park reminds him stiffly. But the override tumbles out— tumbles, which is enough to earn him a curious look— with less sting than anybody is used to. “Move.”
Instantly, the juniors scuttle away from his shadow like hermits. Observe, astonished, as Park walks— walks, not glides, like a damn human being for once— to settle charily in front of you.
(Gone, it appears, is the fabled Shark of Orthopaedics.)
The scant space between you feels strangely domestic despite the natural tension of the situation. You lock eyes. Hello again, he translates your rapt gaze.
“Pain meds?”
Robby declares what EMS had administered enroute, and lists the other currently on board. His answer is a beat late; still taken aback by the odd scene unraveling before him.
“Good. Those will have already kicked in,” Park mumbles now to you, voice low. Grounding. You remember the tender bass of it as if it was just yesterday that you’d last seen each other. “Might still hurt, though.”
(A rare kindness, to those who’ve known the Shark long enough: he’d never been the type to warn his patients unless absolutely necessary.)
You shoot him a brief smile. “I’m okay,” you murmur— and he has to physically regather himself all over again at the earnest look you’re giving him; at the way you’re saying the words like you used to then: reassuring him, and not the other way around.
He blinks. Reconciles himself back into the role he’d come down here to do, all while trying to stubbornly ignore the way you’re etching him into memory. Memorising the profile of his face and admiring the great lean of him. You made good, you can’t bring yourself to say. I wish I’d been there to see it.
The break-up, looking back, hadn’t been angry— let alone vicious. It’d rolled over as slow as an expecting tide; an ebb and flow of highs and lows. Park and you could both see the coming end in the horizon, wearily washing ashore as the relationship began to sour along with the anchor-drag of stress from his Surgical Residency.
Then he’d finally brought it up one day— and it’d been mutual. Amicable. Mature enough to not leave each other with lingering hate as your lasting words; not a drop of bad blood. A simple case of right person, wrong time. I want this to be a clean break, Park remembers describing, and the accidental pun had even made you laugh.
…He’s forgotten how that sounds, after all these years.
(It’s why he’d calcified into this hollowed shell of a man: brine-bitter and sea-weathered.)
Everyone owlishly watches him work. Clinically efficient, but uncharacteristically gentle as he checks mobility and rotates methodically. Completely bereft of that familiar gnash of jagged teeth he’s fabled for, and more tenderly than they ever thought possible to have come from the boorish leviathan that is Dr. Park the Shark of all people.
“On three,” he finally warns, upon positioning.
You nod in readiness, wait for the countdown.
“Three.”
---POP.
“Agh, you motherf—!”
You bite back your yelp back in time. Drop your head forward in a startled choke as Park, instinctively, steadies you firmly against him.
“Easy,” he draws out, and very nearly tags a fond Honey at the end of it. There’s a tentative smile threatening to surface across his face at the curse you mustered back, borne from a nostalgic memory.
(Again, an anomalous thing to hear from him: since when did he care for verbally comforting his patients?)
Witnessing the proximity is jarringly intimate, but experiencing it is another. Your forehead brushing the flex of his biceps from where you unconsciously followed his pull; Park’s chin and tense jaw ghosting the crown of your lulling head. The signature scent of yours from that same fragrant perfume you still use after all these years that leaves him yearning.
Candidly, he fancies if he turns to look down at your buried face, that he might relive the dusty, waterlogged memories of those early mornings with you, where he’d wake to your warmth; curled languidly in his arms before his lips would press onto your brow for a doting ki—
A relieved, breathless laugh bubbles out of you. Washes over Park like the dizzying warmth of a sea-breeze. Drowns him with a terrible tidal wave of homesickness.
“No countdown?” you narrow, smile half-hearted from the pain that’s dulling down now.
“Didn’t want you bracing,” he mutters, disguising his apology under the pretense of clinical explanation. He has his eyes still attentively fixated on you when he snaps his fingers for somebody to pass the sling. Not wasting a single moment to take you all in as you rear back from him.
And if the startling sight of Dr. Park the Shark, Orthopaedic Surgeon, doing a task as menial as helping a patient into their sling, isn’t what convinces Garcia she’s in a fever dream— then the chance moment she catches of him tarrying a spindrift-soft, indulgent touch on your wrist is definitely enough.
It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? It means to say, alongside the billion other unbidden thoughts rattling in his head. I’ve missed you dearly. I’m sorry I ended things. I still think of you. For all my mistakes and regrets in my life: losing you has been the greatest.
But just like that the moment ends. Dr. Park slides his grip away and straightens up, and with it returns the commanding presence that orbits around him and has the room deferring to the gravitas instantaneously. (Robby and Garcia know him long enough, however, to note the tightness of his jaw and the softened depth of his frown.)
“Send a Resident up with her. I’ll take her case,” he orders aloud, in a tone that clearly meant: Expedite her CT, or I’ll rip your fucking head off myself.
Garcia purses her lips as he breezes past everybody. Doesn’t even bother with arguing on the potential conflict-of-interest. “You got it, Shark.”
He smothers the urge to stay. Internally tamps down the treacherous yen in his heart; the desire to glance over his shoulder for one final look. Instead he kindles the spark of bristling rage in his marrows again as he moves towards the patient— the drunken bastard— responsible for putting you in harm’s way.
Garcia trawls after him as they make headway to pass through to the next bay over.
Do you have anybody we can contact? comes Whitaker's distant question to you. Family?
Oh, uh, they’re too far.
Okay. What about any partners, then?
Garcia notices Park slow down considerably. Eyes him hiding it with a deliberate switch of a new set of gloves.
Ah, no, is your sheepish answer. None at the moment.
Had anybody caught the subtle relax of Park the Shark’s shoulders, they held enough sense not to comment on it.
(They probably should’ve told him you had longingly watched him as he left, though.)
I wanted to try my hand at writing an Elizabethan sonnet for what he keeps in his heart by @kangaroomousie for the @obikin-valentine-exchange!!
It's such a lovely fic to read, and I had a fun time writing this! I took an artistic liberty in the last stanza with the number of syllables, but the rest should be true to the standard Shakespearean form.
From heavy battle, broken, bruised, come I
Exhausted, overstimulated, cold.
Inside my hands, a present small and shy;
Inside my heart, a truth both young and old.
I come to thee, and, home at last, I weep,
Rejoicing in the smells of tea and earth.
But, soft, I hear thy breaths. Asleep, asleep.
Since death’s cold brush, no sound could hold more worth.
With quiet haste, I settle by thy side.
“I love you,” lest I burst, spills from my lips.
Thou wakest - but my fears doth soon subside
Thus wrapped within thine arms, thy soul, thine hips.
Thank you so much to everyone who participated in this year's Virginwan Weekend, whether by creating a work or supporting those works! As a reminder, the ao3 collection will remain open for an extra month, just in case anyone has anything else to share.
Here's a recap of what everyone made:
Truth by @inubaki
Illustration for Your Pulse, Under My Fingertips by @inubaki
a beginner's guide to divine love by @virgoos
full of the love you want by @jaggededges123
Obi-Wan as the Virgin Mary by @orchidpurple
I want to be there (when you come) by @birdycage
"All He'll See Is Me" by @inubaki
Obi-Wan in a Garter by @orchidpurple
tangled in your trance by @jaggededges123
i want to raise a city behind his teeth by @petralemaitre
Illustration for We'll Be a Dream by @inubaki
ready for the flight or to fall off a cliff by @the-bulletproof-heart
Brother's Keeper by @jaggededges123
Extra Virgin Obi-Wan by @orchidpurple
That's What I've Been Saying This Whole Time by @asteroidstarfield
Dark Fate by @lady-evelin
Wrong Confession by @inubaki
A Shaking, Fragile Breath by @jaggededges123
a touch by @kangaroomousie
blue and gold by @kangaroomousie
Take the power by OnlyG
Safe in Your Arms by Anonymous
Thank you again for all the incredible submissions! Y'all are awesome!
Tags: Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi; Age Swap; Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker; Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi; Force Suppression (Star Wars); Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Alpha Anakin Skywalker; Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi; Alpha/Omega; Mating Cycles/In Heat; Mating Bites; Sex; unprotected; Creampie; Knotting; Anakin Skywalker is in Love With Obi-Wan Kenobi; Bonding; Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi; Top Anakin Skywalker; Hurt/Comfort; Young Obi-Wan Kenobi; Older Man/Younger Man;
Summary: He was halfway across the cell when the field went see-through. Stopped dead in his tracks and planted his heels, shoulders rolling back to mimic an ego worthy of the cockiest alpha. Worthy to match the attitude of the Jedi Master General standing in front of the window, flanked by two clones in near-identical armor and a third further back, by the closed door leading out into the ship.
Obi-Wan smiled. It was an ugly thing that put his canines on full display. Sounds filtered through to him, a low hum and the faint clacking of armor. The commline in had been activated.
"Hello Master Skywalker," Obi-Wan's grin widened.
Words: 7520
read it on ao3
The cell was featureless. Smooth walls on three sides, unbroken by anything. No window either, though it would have done little to help him. A small cot, that was all that broke the monotony. That, and the shimmering energy field blocking him inside this prison. It was opaque. A blind spot. The restless energy within him had nowhere to go. Force suppressor cuffs hummed against his wrists, a secondary set kept his hands bound behind his back. They would've been easy to get rid of if not for that annoying first pair. He hadn't gotten a good look at them before they'd been closed around his arms and now he was denied knowing the build of them once more. Not that that would have changed much. Withouf sufficient tools and time on his hands…
He paced the length of the cell. From the wall with the cot to its opposite, never turning his back to the field. Any moment someone could set it to transparent, or worse, deactivate it to deal punishment upon him. The thought of it had Obi-Wan stretching his neck. He wasn't too worried about whatever measly dealings he'd be subjected to - the memories of Force Lightning frying his organs alive was much more potent in that regard. But he would be treated. Punished. By the Jedi who owned the ship, maybe, though that would pale in comparison to what was waiting for him in the dark hole that had become a cruel mockery of a home, for letting himself be captured. It was as certain as knowing the Jedi adhering to their code that forbade them grow attached to anything. The flurry in his stomach tightened into a painful ball. What would this mistake cost him?
He was halfway across the cell when the field went see-through. Stopped dead in his tracks and planted his heels, shoulders rolling back to mimic an ego worthy of the cockiest alpha. Worthy to match the attitude of the Jedi Master General standing in front of the window, flanked by two clones in near-identical armor and a third further back, by the closed door leading out into the ship.
Obi-Wan smiled. It was an ugly thing that put his canines on full display. Sounds filtered through to him, a low hum and the faint clacking of armor. The commline in had been activated.
"Hello Master Skywalker," Obi-Wan's grin widened. "Have you come to appraise your catch? Inspect the goods before you bring it before the mighty council, to judge me for my wrong-doings?"
Anakin stood opposite him, unmoving. Stormy blue eyes tracked the shifting of Obi-Wan's weight as he settled in his stance.
"Truthfully, I am surprised it was you that went through all this effort to trap me in this place - I figured you'd have taken on a new bright-eyed bushy-tailed little Padawan to hang on every word falling from your mouth. No time to spare, raise another one up and send them out into that wide, wild galaxy, chop-chop." The rage simmering within him was a warm, a welcome thing. Cut off the Force as he was it was all that remained that filled him. "It must've been a relief to clear out my old quarters for good, hm? Don't worry, I would've gotten out of your hair after my knighting anyways. This just cut the time short, you understand."
He tipped his head to the side, careful not to let it slip into a sign of submission. Anakin remained quiet. The ever-impulsive, emotions-driven chosen one - calm, collected, quiet. What a joke.
"Just going to stand there staring at your prisoner? No tests, no playing around? No questions? How boring." Anakin blinked, but nothing else changed. "Nothing? Not even a single word for your lost son?"
Anakin lowered his head. The somewhat tinny hidden speakers conveyed the sigh he let out. He looked over his shoulder, nodding to the three clones. His escort fell back and they filed out of the room. The door's locking mechanism echoed through the speakers.
Anakin didn't look at him as he walked to the side. Opened a hidden cupboard in the wall and placed the hilt of his lightsaber inside. It looked much worse for wear than the last time Obi-Wan had seen it, scuffmarks visible even from a distance. Once the compartment had sealed itself those blue eyes strayed back to Obi-Wan's position, still square in the middle of his cell, shoulders broad and ready to take whatever and expecting the worst.
He didn't expect the field to power down. Nor Anakin crossing the threshold within moments, closing in on him faster than Obi-Wan could blink. But he didn't back away. Worse had come charging at him, and he had stood through that without giving it ground either. He glared at the Jedi. And Anakin looked back. Not with malice or contempt, not with disappointement or sadness. It was one thing to know his old teacher was within reach - for the first time in years. It was one thing to be able to tilt his head and look up into that known face, a face that had laughed and cried and celebrated and smiled under his eyes. It was one thing. Being able to smell him was another matter.
He wasn't used to it anymore.
Sidious always reeked of ozone and the sour-bitter of age when Obi-Wan saw him in person. An odour as unpleasant as it was befitting. Others under the Sith Lord's command draped themselves with perfumed cloth and ate rich foods. The housings Obi-Wan had frequented were scentscapes, carpets unspooling under his nose, each festering and unwelcoming. Nothing repeated itself and no space wanted to smell like any other. There was no comfort.
But Anakin's scent was known. It curled into the gap its absence had left in Obi-Wan's chest on his first inhale. Notes that had followed him from the end of his childhood through adolescence caressed his nose once more. A softness only made stronger by having known nothing but coldness for years now. A golden dream of morning from far away. A better time. Once. He couldn't show anything of what that scent did to him. And he didn't. But he had to blink, and fight against his instincts that screamed at him that he was safe now. That this was his safety incarnate, that nothing would touch him now, that nothing could. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. He'd spent too long excising any lingering feelings towards this Jedi, he'd spent too long rising above the other accolades to be felled by a scent alone.
And still Anakin just stood there, looking down on him. It needed a moment longer for Obi-Wan to root out the cause for the unease that curdled in his gut. Anakin didn't smell rancid. Not only because he - presumably - still bathed regularly, but also, much more importantly, because there was no anger in his scentnotes. No displeasure. He smelled soft and calm, and- and almost like relief. Which was impossible. It couldn't be. It couldn't.
Anakin swallowed and Obi-Wan kept his eyes unwaveringly on the face he had grown up with, grown to love and loathe and hate. "And you?"
The voice, unaltered by transmitters. The voice that had called out to him time and time again, that had guided and guarded and shaped him. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. Anakin looked around his face. His eyes faltered by the small scar across his nose, and the round spots where his acne had sprung back up and then subsided for good. They stayed stuck even longer on the purpleish silver that crept up from under the tunics still tightly wrapped around Obi-Wan's body, visible barely above his neckline.
"No words for the Master you abandoned?" Anakin continued as it became clear Obi-Wan wouldn't say anything. "The bond you walked out of? All talk, no bite?"
And still the scent that emanated from the Jedi didn't tip. It was mellow, so horribly mellow and calm and Obi-Wan's exhaustion threatened to betray him and have him crumble at this Jedi's feet without fight. He dug his hands deeper into the rage within him, the disgust and the despair.
"Bite, yeah." He scoffed. "What does it matter to you? Any of it? You haven't heard a single word i've spoken to you for years, what could you possibly want me to say now that would get through to you?"
Anakin's brows furrowed. A swirl upset his scent but it still was not the anger Obi-Wan wanted, expected. "I have always listened to you. Everything you told me, every time you needed me, I listened. Until you stopped coming to me. What changed, Obi-Wan? What dragged you away from me?"
Was that sorrow in his scent?
"It never occured to you I might have left willingly?"
Anakin's mouth snapped shut. He swallowed. Ugly satisfaction spread in Obi-Wan's gut.
"Did you?"
The smile was back on Obi-Wan's face, easy and too wide. "Poor Master Skywalker. Still wondering about his disobediant runaway Padawan. Does it keep you up at night? Wondering where I went, where I am? If I'm dead yet? Thinking back to the half-truths and make-belief the Council had you parrot to me while the real galaxy waits beyond the Temple, all the disgusting truths that don't fit into that narrative of prosperity and peace?"
Anakin was back to staring at him. The furrow in his forehead remained, as did the infuriatingly mellow scent. He blinked frequently, betraying the need for dominance his alpha status was supposed to demand. But then, he would've been a terrible Jedi had he leaned into stereotypes like that. He hadn't raised Obi-Wan like that either. Hadn't raised him to be a good meek little thing cowering before anything that raised a voice against him. No. His old Master wasn't like that. Obi-Wan felt bitterness rise in his chest. Anakin had more wrinkles now though. And gray hairs. Holos only showed so much, official and also unofficial channels only portraying so much. He seemed older than ever before. And was still only looking at him. Standing too close, looking down on him, and staring.
Obi-Wan blinked when he realized the suppressor cuffs must have erased the yellow of his eyes. Now he truly just resembled his old self, pitiful Padawan-learner, innocent blue eyes and all. Was that what the alpha was seeing? A ghost of his precious little boy he had believed long gone returned?
The sound of leather slipping from skin rasped loud in the air. He didn't look down but could see Anakin's shoulders work as he freed his left hand. The leather creaked as it was grasped in the mechno hand, and both flexed.
"Are you going to put your hands on me again?" Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow, keeping his voice level. Anakin's hand, moments from cupping his face, stalled. "Careful. The dark side might stain."
"You think I'm scared of the dark side? Scared of you?"
The palm made contact with Obi-Wan's cheek. He blinked but didn't flinch away, too stunned by Anakin's words. The touch was unendingly slow and gentle. His Master's palm was warm. Roughened where years of 'saberwork and fiddling with droids had demanded the skin to toughen. It was dry, too. The thumb gentled over his cheek, the thin skin under his eye. He tried to, Obi-Wan tried, but he couldn't blink fast enough and wasn't strong-willed enough to keep the tears from his eyes. Humiliation washed through him hot and unbidden. His breaths deepened, a last attempt to regulate himself, but cut off from the Force, caught in his Master's grasp, there was no escape.
Was that the goal? Escape? And what would be waiting for him the ? Wasn't this easier? Nicer? Painless?
He drew another breath and blinked. Two tears fell from his eyes, but only one of them was brushed away by Anakin's thumb.
"Obi-Wan." Anakin mumbled. And it was the heartbreak in his voice, it was the way his Master said it, so quietly and so intimately, that had Obi-Wan drop his eyes and his face and finally fully lean into his Master's touch. His shoulders curved under the weight of knowing Anakin's care, the palm still their only point of contact until Anakin wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan and pulled him closer.
Obi-Wan's face was smushed into the dark robes and he didn't even want to be anywhere else. His Master held him. His clothes smelled faintly of the Temple, still, and it was that that had Obi-Wan lean forward more.
"Obi-Wan." Anakin whispered into his hair and Obi-Wan sobbed. Hands softly carded through his hair, brushed it back from his face and cupped his neck. Every touch of his Master was careful and soft, and every time the fingertips landed on his skin and didn't inflict pain Obi-Wan flinched a little less. The mechno-hand curled around Obi-Wan's back and held him close. The flesh hand brushed strands past his ear and then tilted his face up so lovingly.
Obi-Wan went without protest. Blinked against the tears still spilling from his lashes but made an effort to meet his Master's eyes.
"My Obi-Wan." Anakin mumbled, and he, too, sounded wrecked. Their eyes closed as Anakin's forehead touched Obi-Wan's. For a moment they simply breathed together. Anakin's nose softly nudged against Obi-Wan's and then rubbed it. Obi-Wan leaned further into the contact. So much so that he brushed something much softer - caught just an edge and then it was gone again. Wasn't even aware of what it could have been until he felt Anakin shift against him, felt the breath softly exhaled against his lower face. Opened his eyes then but didn't pull away, didn't want to seperate them again so soon.
"Obi-Wan." Anakin whispered, and his voice was rough.
"Yes?" Obi-Wan answered, for the first time. Breathless but not daring to hope.
Anakin ducked down lower. Angled his face and still Obi-Wan didn't understand, not until their lips hovered so close together he could feel their warmth. He kept his eyes cast down, not able to look up and destroy whatever this was.
Anakin leaned forward by the smallest bit. Their lips touched. Obi-Wan drew a breath through his nose. Rose and met his Master, kissing him back without hesitating. If he could have, he would have hugged his arms around his Master's neck. As it was he had to rely on leaning against him, and kissing him back. Anakin's hand in his hair, at the back of his head, was steadying. Sturdy as his body threatened to tilt.
Obi-Wan licked into his Master's mouth first. It wasn't skillful or suave, it was desperate and needy. No one had touched Obi-Wan in weeks. Months. The Sith never did - even corrections and punishments were dealt through the Force, no touches necessary. Obi-Wan's skin rippled under the onslaught of sensory input now, the weight of Anakin's hands on him, where his arms brushed his body, the solid muscle he was resting against. The soft pressure of lips. The smooth glide of a warm tongue against his own. It was too much after months of nothing but he was entirely unwilling to let any of this go. Only pushed closer instead of away until Anakin held him, really held him. So close that Obi-Wan couldn't have kept standing on his own, not without his arms. Anakin held him. It forced another sob out of Obi-Wan, who'd been blissfully unaware of his still-ongoing crying until then. He was too warm, the shame of being so needy hot on his back, the warmth that his Master offered so freely in his front, the kisses that would have undone his shields and revealed the ugly core had it not been blocked off. It was overwhelming even without feeling the larger-than-life Signature of his Master. Etheral blaze shot-through with the fine mesh of the bottomless dark of a black hole. An ever shifting pattern that reorganized itself with every heartbeat. Something gave and Obi-Wan gasped. His shoulders relaxed. He was able to bring his hands up, fingertips sliding against his Master's jaw clumsily. He hadn't believed this to be a dream but it felt otherworldly to touch back.
"Master," he whispered, breathless. His hands were full of static and his lips prickled. Anakin let go of his body to touch their hands together. No longer being held up Obi-Wan's legs wobbled and threatened to fail. Anakin caught him before he hit the floor. Readjusted their course and helped him sit down on the cot, their thighs pressed together. Obi-Wan drank in air. He felt dizzy. Here, with his hands in front of him, sitting down after so long, he felt strangely weak. The suppressor cuffs were still on, but the smaller ones keeping him bound had fallen to the floor somewhere behind them. He kept staring at his own hands in his lap. His head was buzzing.
"You're burning up," Anakin mumbled and touched his mechno hand to Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. "Did he give you anything? Poison that needs a regular antidote? Nanites?"
Obi-Wan removed his head from the touch and returned to sitting hunched over. "No." He said belatedly. No. This wasn't illness.
"What-" Anakin broke off when their eyes met. He breathed in through parted lips. It would undoubtedly be faint. Undetectable this early by most - but his Master was not most. Never had been. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and turned his head away. This was so typical. Leave it to his body to pick this exact moment - of course it had to be now -
"I haven't had one in so long." Obi-Wan pressed out between closed teeth. Humiliation swept over him and he turned further away from his Master, curling into himself more. Only hunched down further when Anakin scooted closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan wanted to scream. "I hate my body," he grit out. Tears spilled out more readily again. "Why now. I haven't had one in so long, why now, why-" The first cramp pulsed through his body and he moaned in pain. It was only a matter of time before he'd start slicking, sealing his fate.
"How long since the last?" Anakin asked. His body was so close. Curved over Obi-Wan's, protective. His arm wrapped around Obi-Wan's body, his flesh hand rubbing over his tummy. The pressure increased the pain and Obi-Wan bend double. Gasped for air when the worst had passed and clung to the hand that had threaded their fingers together. He drew another breath, cautiously deeper than the last. When it didn't result in more pain, he relaxed a little. Straightened back up and bumped against his Master's chest. Anakin rested a shoulder against the wall and offered Obi-Wan to lean against him. Only when the silence lasted did Obi-Wan remember the question.
"Don't know." He sighed. Stared at the ceiling, unwilling to address how tightly he was holding his Master's hand. "Years? Maybe?"
They both knew what that meant. If the first heat after such a long pause wasn't sated with a partner, the body of the omega was at risk of cannibalizing itself trying to prolongue the heat, entice a mate, beg for anyone, until it would be too late. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The timing was simply atrocious.
He wondered if he smelled sweet yet. If his Master had to swallow unnaturally often to keep the saliva down. A deeply set yearning unfurled in Obi-Wan's midst. Had his Master ever done heat favours? Had his Master ever-?
"Obi-Wan," Anakin mumbled. His right arm had come to encircle him as well now. He could feel his Master swallow against the shoulder his chin was hooked over. His Master was at his back. Hugging him so tightly, keeping him close and yet - leaving him the opening to leave. The room was to his front. Nothing kept him from slipping out of those arms and stalking across the room, away. He didn't want to. Made a small noise.
"Obi-Wan, if-" "I know," He pushed out. Could feel the next cramp building and let out a pathetic whimper as it was rising.
"I'm sure we have kits onboard, if-" "No," Obi-Wan moaned and tried to breathe through the pain. Wasn't it obvious? Wasn't it obvious that Anakin was right there, and-? And that he was an alpha? Able to help? Maybe it was. Maybe he didn't want to offer - but then why had they kissed? Did Anakin want him to ask? Was that it?
"Master," Obi-Wan wheezed. He reached up his free hand and grabbed blindly, fingers hooking into the tangle of Anakin's curls. Felt his Master tug him closer, further into his body. Felt the skin as his Master buried his face in his neck.
"Are we?" Obi-Wan asked, and the silence was ringing in his ears after. "Are we, Master? Does the code still apply? I am not your Padawan anymore. I haven't been for so long. Will you kiss me but deny this?"
"Obi-Wan," Anakin groaned, but then didn't continue.
"Master." It was a joke. Declaring them seperate, distancing from the bond that had existed between them, and then bridge that same distance by falling back to old titles immediately. But the thought of Anakin leaving him now was unbearable. The thought of being left in this cell, alone with nothing but himself to claw at, was unbearable. The irrational fear exploded in Obi-Wan's chest. "Don't leave me," he wheezed and grasped at the arms holding him. "Please, don't- don't lea-" he sobbed. "-ve me, please, please don't leave me please stay-"
"I'm right here," Anakin mumbled into his ear. "I'm right here. I won't leave. Tell me what you need, Obi-Wan. Let me help, please. I'm here. I'm here."
Obi-Wan only cried more at that. It was worse, somehow, to know. To have his Master speak to him like this, to be helpful, to be there. Why hadn't it always been like this? Why hadn't Anakin been there every time he felt terrible in the last years? Where had his alpha Master gone? Obi-Wan turned around to bury his face in Anakin's neck. Felt the arms settle around his back and cried more at the weight of the hands settling in places he needed them. They'd never done this before and yet... his Master knew. Somehow.
"Touch me," Obi-Wan bit out, caught between the different emotions warring within. "Please just-" "Where?" "Everywhere, please, everywhere-"
His Master's hands held him tight. Wrapped around his shoulders, spread over his back, hooked around his sides. It wasn't enough. There was a gaping hole in the midst of Obi-Wan and he feared nothing would ever be enough again. It only made him cry more.
His distress affected his Master. He knew, because Anakin's hands grew frantic and his scent swelled. "What else?" He asked, voice low and strained.
It was torture to be apart from his Master. The cot was too narrow for them for this and Anakin slipped off of it, spread his cloak on the floor and then divested himself of his tunics faster than Obi-Wan's brain could catch up. His Master, his alpha had laid down a nest. Prepared it for him. Obi-Wan was still reeling from no longer being able to touch him that he stared at the cloak and what it signalled and couldn't piece it together until Anakin's chest was bare and he was reaching with both hands for Obi-Wan. It was better to lay with his cheek pressed into bare skin. The smooth feel of it, the subtle scent of it. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leaned against it. Was only half aware of the hands still on him that were tugging at his own clothing until the front came apart and he shivered as they were pressed together with nothing in between. The pulling pain beneath his navel ceased in intensity. He could breathe without sobbing.
"Lift your arms." Anakin mumbled. There was no command in his voice, just invitation. But Obi-Wan complied. His arms slipped out of the sleeves and settled against the heat of his Master's ribs. The room was colder now, feverish shivers creeping down his back, but his Master was warm, and safe. "Is this enough?" Anakin asked and Obi-Wan nodded without opening his eyes.
"For now." He whispered. It wouldn't take long for his body to enter the second wave. He wasn't slicking yet but with the way things were going- He shivered. Pressed closer his Master when he grew aware of the open space in his back, fear shooting through him.
Anakin rolled them around. He came to rest between Obi-Wan's legs naturally, and feeling where his cock was in his pants, nudging into the space it would need to go for a proper knotting, was satisfying. So much so that the reason for his bout of fear fled his mind. Being between his Master and their nest was perfect. Nothing would ambush him here, protected as he was. Obi-Wan sighed with relief.
Anakin rubbed a palm over the thigh that Obi-Wan had hooked around his waist. "Better?" He asked, and Obi-Wan nodded. "Want me to take these off?" Obi-Wan nodded again.
"But don't-" He started to say, voice hoarse. His hands on Anakin's shoulders fidgeted. Anakin blinked at him. "Don't go far." Obi-Wan finished in a whisper. Anakin smiled. It was a slow thing that started at the corners of his mouth and ended with his eyes crinkling, and the fondness that spilled syrup-thick into his scent was almost overwhelming. Obi-Wan tucked his chin down and looked to the side to escape the expression. Anakin's hand cupped his cheek and brought his face back up, their eyes meeting once more. Anakin dipped down and kissed him, slow and loving.
"I'm right here." He said against Obi-Wan's mouth.
Obi-Wan felt like crying again when there truly was nothing seperating them anymore. There was only skin against skin now. Anakin laid down a little to the side, and Obi-Wan didn't get to complain before he was scooped up into two strong arms and held against a broad chest. Anakin curled around him like a Krayt-Dragon. Large, strong, warm, protective. Obi-Wan's head was tucked beneath Anakin's chin. It was then that he realized their current position was as much to sate the heating omega in him as it was for Anakin's alpha. He blinked. He had lived the last years without Anakin. But Anakin had also lived without him. He tentatively wrapped an arm around his Master's side and was rewarded with a squeeze.
"I'm sorry," Anakin said, voice rough and thick with tears. "I'm sorry I just need a moment. Just-"
"It's okay." Obi-Wan said from where he was still held snug against Anakin's chest. "It's okay, Master."
Anakin pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Put his cheek on the same spot afterwards and just held him. Breathed through his own tears but then that wasn't enough anymore and he returned to kissing Obi-Wan's hair, his forehead, his cheeks and finally his lips when Obi-Wan turned his face up to meet his Master. Their mouths opened at the same time.
His Master's hunger rivaled his own. It was subtler, not burning as bright or hot, but it was an underlying urgency that took Obi-Wan's breath away. That left him feeling better about his own demand.
They kissed for a long time. Wrapped tightly around each other, neither willing to let go. Obi-Wan knew he was slicking against the thigh his Master had wedged between his legs, and that it ran down their skin and dampened the cloth underneath them but he didn't want to stop, didn't want to give way to his heat, not when this moment was perfect.
But the cramps came back. Obi-Wan whined into the kiss and tensed. Anakin's hold on him tightened, threatening growl already vibrating in his chest at the unseen threat that frightened his omega so until Obi-Wan managed to get enough air into his system that he could say "Cram'". His tongue felt sluggish. Intense heats had a reputation for it but to feel it himself...
"What-" Anakin swallowed his growl down and cleared his throat. "What do you need-"
He let go enough that Obi-Wan was able to bend almost in half as the next clench of his body came. He gasped for air. His Master sat up by his side and kept his hand cupped over Obi-Wan's neck, the other rubbing his flank. When the pain eased and Obi-Wan relaxed, he rolled onto his stomach. Anakin breathed in sharply.
"Please," Obi-Wan said, muffled by the cloak underneath. He lifted his hips. Presented. He hoped the sight of his hole loose and oozing clear slick would hold his Master's gaze. Distract him enough he wouldn't pay attention to the lightning scars webbing across his entire back, all the blaster-bolts that had left keloids behind, the burns of lightsabers he hadn't parried quickly enough.
"Obi-Wan-" Anakin stumbled over the syllables.
Obi-Wan felt embarassement and need roll through him. "Please Master, no-"
Two hands touched his back. He wanted to lean into them and away in equal parts, especially when they didn't immediately push him down against the nest but ghosted over the scars.
"There's so- so many Obi-Wan-"
Obi-Wan pressed his eyes shut and buried his face in his crossed arms. "Just kriff me Master," he said and shivered from where fingertips were tracing old wounds long since closed.
"How can I?" Anakin asked. His hands moved and the air shifted. Soft lips pressed to the eye-sized scar just under Obi-Wan's ribs. That one had been terrible to heal. Obi-Wan groaned and tried to shift back, knowing his Master's cock would surely be fully erect and ready by now but was caught. Hands held him firm around his hips as Anakin continued to press a soft but lingering kiss to every scar he could see. He didn't say anything. But Obi-Wan's skin prickled from the heavy emotions that rang true in his Master's scent. Even now there was no rage, no promised violence. There was an ache so deep, a pain so visceral. Hurt, but not because his Master had been hurt. He was feeling hurt for Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan tried to hide further into his own arms.
"Please." He whispered.
Anakin wasn't deterred. His kisses continued down his spine. Kisses and flicks of his tongue, drag of teeth. It was a primal, an animal thing. Marking him, rubbing his scent into him. All over the place countless others had left their impression. It had Obi-Wan moaning softly to be claimed like that. He was trembling by the time Anakin reached his ass. Each side received a kiss as well, and then he could feel the heat of his Master's face hovering just by his opening. Could feel the breath fan over the sensitive flesh. Felt a drop of slick leave him, warm fluid leaking down his perineum and over his barely there testicles. Anakin's broad tongue lapped it up. One long sweep, all the way up between his legs and then inside him. Obi-Wan's eyes rolled back in his head. To have anything of his Master in his body, to have his tongue, and to have it there, it was-
It didn't last. Anakin reared up and ran both palms down Obi-Wan's back.
"Ready?" He asked quietly. Obi-Wan nodded.
One hand stayed rubbing his shoulder blade, the other reached down and held his cock in position. He hadn't seen it in a while - but remembered it was cut, the tip bare at all times. It pressed into him now, blunt and hot and perfect. Obi-Wan was moaning before it even fully pushed past the entrance. The slide was long and smooth and it stretched him and it felt divine. Nothing else mattered but them, his Master's cock finding inside him easily and coming to rest deep within him once the loose skin of Anakin's balls pressed against him. His Master was slow to pull out, going the same pace as when he'd thrust in and it was perfect. Perfect. Obi-Wan was breathless and yet moaned louder than he'd ever dared the few times he'd touched himself.
It just felt so good. It felt so good.
Anakin wasn't half-way out before he pushed back in. "Good?" He asked, short of breath. Obi-Wan could only nod.
Mechno and flesh hand held his hip, his shoulder. Strong hips pushed against his own, steady, easily keeping rhythm. Their laboured breathing wasn't enough to drown out the lewd noises their bodies let spill by coming together like this. But it didn't matter. Nobody would hear them. Only Anakin could hear him, and only Anakin mattered. His master, his alpha.
There was too much empty space between them. The frustration manifested in a drawn out whine coming from Obi-Wan, who was both fed up with that distance and his inability to just tell his Master. Words were beyond him. His mouth fell open as Anakin, ever perceptive of his Padawan's needs, bend down and kissed the top of the spine curved delicately beneath him. Mouthed over the freckles that were plentiful over his shoulders, and then, because the suppressor cuffs were on his wrists and his neck was free, he lapped over the scent glands there. Licking them out, hoping to soothe them as he worked to sate Obi-Wan's body. It wasn't enough. Obi-Wan tugged his Master down further, closer. The powerful thrusts that had been slapping against his ass and thighs slowed into short but deep thrusts interspersed with grinding further inside. Obi-Wan's knees had given out. He was was being kriffed into the floor with every thrust. Anakin's cloak beneath them was the only thing marking this space as theirs, but that didn't matter once Obi-Wan whined again and pressed back against the thrusts. Anakin groaned.
"I won't last," he warned, sucking in air in between. "If-"
Obi-Wan groaned. "Pl-ease…" He scraped together.
"Yes." Anakin buried his face in his neck.
True to his word he sped up. Skin smacked against skin, loud enough to echo off of the walls. Obi-Wan spread his legs further, anticipating the stretch that would come with his Master's knot. It was instinct that had him readjust, but the feeling was pure bliss. Getting kriffed, by his Master, only able to scent him and nothing else, feel his touch and weight. He yearned to feel that knot take, proof that he was bound to this alpha alone. Anakin groaned. Thrust in and held still for half a heartbeat before pulling out, his knot catching on the edge. Pushed back in, ground his hips against Obi-Wan's body. There was a pressure in his gut, the budding knot, and Obi-Wan clenched down around it on instinct. Anakin's hips stuttered back but didn't get far, not after the knot held. Then Anakin leaned forward, pressing them flush together.
"You feel so kriffin' good," Anakin gasped into the neck he hadn't surfaced from in forever now. "You feel so good. You're so soft inside, the softest. Soft, and warm and perfect, so perfect, perfect for me, mine, my Padawan mine- You're so pretty on my cock, so pretty- Feels so good to knot you, so good to have-"
Anakin's hips were still moving and still humping him and it was that motion that had Obi-Wan's small dick rub against the fabric of his Master's cloak, and it was that final push he'd needed to tip over the edge. Obi-Wan came with a whine. Eyes rolled back into his skull, body falling limp as the relief shot through his system, spurred on by the copious amounts of semen being filled into him. The galaxy vanished and only a very small part of Obi-Wan remained.
His breathing returned, and the thunder of his heart. The slight ache in his ass, and the pressure in his gut that had nothing to do with a full bladder. His neck hurt, but not from a bite. There was no sting of broken skin. But he must have craned it, arched his head aside and shown his neck so eagerly, only for nothing to come of it. He didn't know if he hated his bare neck more or that he had presented it so readily. He took another breath.
Anakin was hovering above him. They were still flush from the waist down, but Anakin was holding himself up on his elbows, one hand wedged between Obi-Wan's body and the thoroughly messed up cloak. Massaging half of his chest. It felt good.
Only when he swallowed did Obi-Wan realize he was purring. He was too tired to fight it. He could still feel the heat burning in him, knew it wouldn't be over with just one good kriffing. But the day had stretched long already and now his muscles were protesting, and his Master's knot was plugging him up properly. It sat heavy and thick lodged in his gut. He shuddered after accidentally squeezing it. Anakin moaned. He pressed himself closer. The knot throbbed and with it Obi-Wan's entire groin. Anakin's breaths came short. A gasp for every time his cock was spurting inside Obi-Wan.
"Y'should bite me," Obi-Wan slurred, tired and sated. "Would save you the trouble of havin' to trap me again..."
He felt sweet kisses pressed against his neck. "You won't stay?" Anakin asked. "Nothing I can do to convince you to?" He sounded sad. Obi-Wan exhaled.
"Would keep me from runnin' again." He mumbled.
"Is that what you did?" Anakin rolled them to the side and wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan's waist. It was easier to keep his eyes closed and remain ignorant of the cell they were still in. Obi-Wan breathed out.
"You never came after me when I did."
The arm around him squeezed him closer. "You left. You yelled and screamed at me before you did. What made you believe that told me 'Come find me'?"
It was almost easy to talk like this. Tied together neither of them could go anywhere, and talking felt... almost okay.
"Not only that time. Every time."
Fingers caressing his bicep. "You always came back on your own." A kiss against his scentgland. Obi-Wan remained quiet. Grabbed the hand to stop it from tickling him further and sandwiched it between his own. The thumb promptly picked up brushing over the knuckles within reach. Obi-Wan put a small kiss against the thumb but didn't say anything. Anakin sighed. "I can't do that. I couldn't live with myself." He shook his head. "Better a Padawan that is free and in danger than a Padawan that is safely trapped and resents me for keeping him prisoner."
"I'm not very free right now." Obi-Wan mumbled. Anakin tsked.
"It sounded like you didn't plan on staying put. And I don't blame you. You'll have to break out on your own, though. I'm sorry but I can't help you with that."
Obi-Wan sighed again. He leaned his forehead against their joined hands. "Have you ever bitten someone?" He asked into the quiet hum.
"No." Anakin replied after a while.
"Have you ever wondered what it must be like?"
Silence.
"It would be so easy," Obi-Wan continued, adjusting his head and presenting his neck a little more. "Your people didn't even put a collar on me. I'm all ready. No collar, in heat, stuck on your knot - you could even claim that the hormones blinded you. The Sith apprentice' ploy to bind himself to a Jedi. No one would fault you, Master."
"Spend much time thinking about it, hm?" Anakin's voice finally came again. Obi-Wan smiled. Tired, small.
"Maybe. Maybe not. You should make your decision fast, Master. Your knot won't hold forever, and who knows what'll happen after."
He could feel the open mouthed panting over his neck. Stretched his chin a little further, even. Anakin's forehead thunked against his shoulder.
"Stop saying those things. I can't bite you, I can't. You would resent me for the end of our lives - you already do. This would be torture for us both." He swallowed. "But I understand. This is your first heat in some time. Your instincts- I- I understand. Don't worry. You won't have lasting consequences from this. I'll make sure of that."
"He'll kill me." Obi-Wan said. Anakin closed his mouth.
"What?"
"My Sith Master. If he finds out I was captured by you - bedded by you - he'll kill me."
Anakin's arms around him tightened. "No." Anakin said. His voice was dry.
"He will." All pretense had dropped from his voice. "If I manage to break out and return to him, he'll kill me. If you take me back to the Temple the Council will try to get information from me, and when I don't comply, they'll throw me into a cell and I'll never see the sky again." He shook his head. There was a strange lightness in admitting this. "My life is over either way."
"Don't say that." Anakin whispered.
"It is the truth." Obi-Wan said monotone. "I am condemned either way. I'm expendable. Nobody will care about my fate. Hardly anyone will remember me, either. I'll vanish without a trace. Either way."
"No," Anakin repeated. He sounded choked up.
"It's a wise decision not to bite me, I suppose." Obi-Wan continued. "No ties to me that could drag you down alongside me. The Chosen One shines above all others. His lost Padawan will sink into the oblivion cast by his shadow."
Was it cruel? To lay it all out like this? Maybe. Obi-Wan gently moved his hips and found he could. The knot had gone down. Before he could do more than seperate their skin however Anakin rolled them again, trapping Obi-Wan once more. The delirious, heat-addled state hadn't returned to Obi-Wan just yet but already he could feel how pleased his base instincts were at the action.
He tilted his head again and rubbed the side of his throat against the cloak.
"This is borrowed time, Master." He whispered, eyes still closed and unmoving.
"Would it bring you back?"
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked back over his shoulder. "Hm?"
Anakin refused to bring any distance between them. "If were to bite you. And remove your cuffs." A hand stretched into Obi-Wan's field of vision, curling around the humming device on his wrist. "If I looked into your eyes then. Would I see yellow? Or blue?"
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and laughed once. "I don't know." He answered truthfully. "Careful not to let your hope cloud your judgement, Master. I'm a darksider." He sighed. The fight had left his system. "There is no cure for that."
He could hear his Master grinding his teeth. Had resigned himself to whatever fate the Force had foreseen for him when he was turned around. Face to face with his Master he felt his breath stutter in his chest. His Master was so gorgeous. Had always been. But with puffy lips and wet eyes, sweat glueing the flyaway hairs down he was beautiful. Obi-Wan sighed as he cradled the face and watched the blue eyes blink down on him.
A feeling welled within him. Unnamed. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Tipped his chin aside, guided his Master's face into the crook of his neck. Felt it when his Master lined himself up and thrust back into him, much more levelled than before. Almost like they were making love.
"Bite me," Obi-Wan whispered. "Don't let anyone take me from you. Make me yours. Keep me." The breaths on his skin were hot and humid. Saliva dripped on the gland and cooled it down almost uncomfortably. "I'm yours. I always was."
His fingers at the back of Anakin's head tugged him closer. Lips brushed his skin. All his Master had to do was bite down. Obi-Wan groaned at the cock steadily pumping inside him. The heat was beginning to build up again, meeting the sloppy thrusts that were too wet with slick and seed.
And then Anakin bit down.
Obi-Wan's mouth popped open without noise.
His Master had bitten down. Deeply, teeth firmly imbedded in his skin, pain pulsing there. Obi-Wan whined. The strong body above him kriffed him hard, hips snapping against his own too strong, forcing another orgasm on him before he was ready. His nails dragged over Anakin's back in search for purchase. His eyes were unseeing, he was a live wire throbbing all over.
Anakin released the bite in his neck and pressed their foreheads together. "You're mine." He breathed out and Obi-Wan went limp. "Mine."
"Yours." He whispered. A deep buzz settled into his veins then dripped away, leaving bottomless relief behind. Dimly he was aware of two mechanical 'clack's, and then there was an overwhelming light that cocooned him. Tears escaped his eyes at feeling his Master's Force Signature again. He kissed Anakin's jaw, nosed against his throat.
Felt a thumb brush his lid, and blinked his eyes open again.
written for @virginwan weekend day 3 - sith obi-wan, age reverse, omegaverse
Summary: there is a revelation waiting for anakin at the gala he had no way of foreseeing
Words: 5858
read it on ao3
He rolled the stem of the spystal glass between his fingers. His eyes went over the beings in attendance once more - searching for his Master, knowing him to be here. Somewhere. He had to be, this had been what the Council had sent them out for. To be here. And yet… his Master was nowhere to be seen. Although he was loathe to do so in a place like this, Anakin opened himself to the Force.
Followed the trail of the training bond that still hadn't been severed and felt along its thin trail. Followed it and then frowned when it inexplicably vanished. It undeniably was still there - and he hadn't been as tightly shielded as to not notice its severing. He doubted anyone would fail to take notice if such a thing where to happen them. Especially unannounced and unprepared. Where was his Master? Even with his excellent shielding capabilities, Anakin was usually able to sniff him out. Able to narrow down his location at least. A vague sense of positioning in relation to himself. Usually. Near always. …so why not now?
He drifted between the bodies milling outside the area designated for dancing. The face mesh allowed for privacy from knowing eyes, presenting a bland blank face outwards that didn't suggest a republican Army General nor the hero with no fear himself to be in attendance. It wasn't a strictly seperatist-only get-together but the Republic was certainly underrepresented, notably so even to Anakin's own less-than schooled eyes. The thought that maybe he should have read the mission debrief or at the very least discussed it with his Master prior to seperately blending into the crowd flickered across his thoughts. He raised the glass in his hand and sipped. The liquid was sparkling and had an oddly bitter aftertaste. He swirled it around his mouth and let it sit on his tongue. Not spiked. Perfectly normal. Maybe a local flavouring that didn't agree with his tastes. He swallowed.
His Master had taken ages in their quarter's refresher and eventually called on Anakin to go ahead and get settled in already. Settled in. Anakin suppressed a snort and sipped from his glass again. He could deal with battlefields and outcome diagnostics that proclaimed a near-certain fatality; he could handle the Council picking apart his every misstep, and he could even weather Obi-Wan being genuinely upset with him (though it pained him greatly every time). But this…? Bodies that pressed too close together, the smell of a hundred different intoxicating substances of various severity wafting in the air, personal scents and perfumes aplenty. Polite conversations that were the shallowest exchange of words imaginable, meaningless chatter blending together into a deafening background hum. Interactions designated to be a front and nothing more, a playing pretend on an absurd scale that he was the only outsider to, the only one out of his depth, the only one left floundering on dry sand while everyone else swam merrily in the pond nearby. And Obi-Wan was hidden away among them.
It was too much. This entire thing was kriffed. He drained his glass and half turned to place it on one of the server-droid's tablets, having heard one pass by moments ago, but- His shoulder bumped into someone. He flinched back. Bright blue eyes under artificially long, dark lashes blinked up at him. A spark in them suggested their owner was amused, and usually Anakin would've assumed he had misbehaved and the other was laughing at him but… he blinked. The lips further down on the face with the beautiful eyes stretched into a smile, the eyes narrowing with mirth.
"'scuse me," Anakin remembered to say. "You're not the droid I was looking for. Apologies."
The owner of the pretty eyes giggled and pointed an elegant hand at the droid in question, lurking just behind her. Stars she was beautiful. Anakin felt a small pit in his gut open up. "I am most certainly not a droid. Is that the one you were searching?"
"Yes, thank you." He nodded and the droid zipped over, offering the tablet. Anakin placed his empty glass down, then only hesitated a moment before picking up two new flutes with bright blue liquid. He extended one to the pretty woman - human, or at least humanoid by the looks. Force-null, after he extended a careful, curious tendril. "I would forget my head if it weren't attached to my body. Here's to not-actually-lost-droids and new friendships?" He raised an eyebrow and smiled. She tilted her head after looking up from the offered drink. Someone in a durasteel-grey suit pushed past and she stepped closer to him. "New friendships? Are we friends?"
A hot shiver of worry went down his back. Had he said the wrong thing? Already? But he'd said so little-
"Well, yes." He looked around and cleared his throat. "Isn't that what this gala is intended for?" He grinned, pretending to not feel the foreboding embarassement licking at his heels. "New friendships and all… sorts of connections."
"You're not wrong, I suppose." The woman took the offered glass. There was a soft 'clink' as the two knocked together. She lifted it to her painted lips, never losing eye contact. She sipped from the drink. Something struck him as familiar about her. Was it her accent? Vaguely coruscantii? The colour of her strawberry-blonde hair? The shimmersilk dress that was an impossible shade of blue-green-teal? It was tasteful but revealed less than some others around them. The subtle shine of the fabric spoke of the real deal, no cheap synth imitation. A noble then? Someone from high society? The folds moved with every minute shift in her pose and distracted him from the pale, freckled skin visible from beneath the shawl draped around her back. He dragged his eyes upwards again, back to the prettily tilted head.
"I'm sorry, you're somewhat familiar - am I recognizing you from somewhere? The holonet maybe? I might be betraying my backwater-planet background here but-"
A hand with elegantly filed nails placed itself on his chest and Anakin's brain short-circuited as he looked down. The touch was warm even through his own attire. She was so much shorter than him. And so close, so much closer all of a sudden and it had him frozen, unable to breathe. When her soft chest pressed up against his own hard muscle he felt at risk of having his heart beat out of his chest. Could she feel that? Would it be obvious? Would she find- Her face hovered just moments before his. The buzz of the vast room grew distant as the scent of her perfume filled his nose. Something light and just as pretty and soft as her. What was he supposed to do with his hand? His fingers clenched around nothing.
Her lashes fluttered as she looked around, then leaned her cheek against his. It felt a little odd through the mesh but still he was able to sense the plushness that spoke of youth and a good life. He put his hand on her waist, willing his fingers to rest lightly and not cramp. It was acceptable. He'd seen worse this evening. Could she feel the dampness of his palm? The dress was soft and cool and didn't catch on the callouses of his palm. It was thin enough he could feel the give of her body underneath.
"Anakin. It's me."
He held his breath as fear shot through him. Had he been discovered? How? Had he given himself away? He could still clearly feel the mesh on his face but maybe it had malfunc- It's me?
"Huh?" He stammered out, painfully aware any positive ground he had won with the pretty stranger was fast breaking away.
"I was fairly impressed with our disguises but I didn't think you wouldn't recognize me at all." She leaned back, one arm still artfully draped over his shoulder, thumb rubbing at the edge of his neckline while she brought the other hand up to sip at her drink. After another cursory glance around the room her eyes returned to him - and a familiar, near-exasperated expression along with it.
"Master?" He breathed out, heart in his throat. Surely- surely not-
The bright smile made another appearance. "Well done. Now-"
Kriff. Anakin tipped his glass back and emptied it fully.
He was well on his way to being fully drunk by the time he slipped away. Away from the gala and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan in his pretty dress that was so impeccably tailored it hid the physique a life of 'sabertraining and an on-going war had given him. Obi-Wan with his hair - a wig - in long soft waves. Obi-Wan with a face that wasn't fully his own and lashes that fanned over his cheekbones so prettily. Lashes he peered up at Anakin with, wholly ignorant of what a picture he was painting. Obi-Wan who could balance the meaningless chats and who melted into the crowd, appearing to be just like the other noblepersons that littered the halls in great numbers. Anakin felt the humming of the intoxicants in his system and how it had his blood singing. Half-hard in his pants haunted by the look of his pretty Master he welcomed the pleasant cool of the dark hallways beyond the main gathering halls. Obi-Wan had danced with him after the reveal, the sufficiently interested response to Anakin's somewhat blundered attempt at making conversation, fitting right in with those coming together around them. Smiling and laughing, his Master's hands eliciting heat wherever they were placed. The memory of them letting go of his flesh hand still tingled in his digits. He balled the hand into a fist but not even that chased the sensory afterimage away. It lingered, just as the shock of realizing who he had attempted to badly flirt with had.
Two hours of knowing his true identity had gone by and yet Anakin still had trouble overlaying the two appearances and marrying them into one person. It just seemed impossible; to have his strong, decisive Master on one side and then… this on the other. Maybe he'd put on special garments to alter his body's appearance additionally to the mesh on his face, but even so that didn't explain how he was holding himself so differently so effortlessly. Anakin had kept his Master in his line of sight after they'd parted ways again. Had kept looking, searching for the General and Jedi Master in him and had come up empty time and time again. It was like Obi-Wan had shed his cloak and his whole self at the same time, leaving something unknown behind. Even thinking back to his Master now, in the relative cool and blessed quiet of the mostly empty halls as he trudged along, it just did not want to make sense. The uncomfortable heat that had gathered with every glance of his Master's, that had increased with every hand so casually placed on his arm or shoulder or waist the few times they'd crossed paths after the first dance, it all coagulated near his groin now and amplified the throbbing of his heart there. As if it hadn't been humiliating enough to not recognize his own former Master.
He stumbled through the door to their quarters and peeled the face mesh off. Rubbed at the skin prickling from the residual gluegel and frowned as he pressed his hand against his pants, feeling his throbbing cock. He knew Obi-Wan had seen him leave and done nothing to prevent it so he'd assumed it was fine. But there was no telling of how long he'd have before his Master decided he'd had enough intel-gathering and turned in for the night. Was this even big enough a problem to need rubbing it out?
He had kept pressing against himself lost in thought and if it hadn't been an issue before it certainly was now; with a full erection constrained in his pants. The thoughts of his Master's hands on him just wouldn't leave. Obi-Wan had touched him plenty of times during their time as a pair. Less during the later years, when Anakin had learned how a proper Padawan had to behave and that physical comfort was not to be so easily given. But he had still touched him during training, rare hand-to-hand combat or when it was time to correct his katas and words alone hadn't been direction enough. But never had a touch felt like today. Probably because it had always been Obi-Wan and not a beautiful woman that had turned out to be Obi-Wan. Anakin shook his head. Closed his eyes and moaned as he thumbed over his tip. Wondered what it would be like to feel his Master's hands again, but in that strange new way - the way that it had been today, with the nails and the lashes-adorned eyes looking up at him. He shuddered. He knew it wouldn't happen again. It hadn't even been meant to happen today, so- His hips did an involuntary twitch forward. Maybe it had been too long after all. Maybe he just needed release. A short thing in the 'fresher where he could wash the evidence down the drain and hope to do the same with the memories of Obi-Wan's touches after thoroughly scrubbing himself down raw. The plan had barely taken shape in his distracted brain when the door in his back opened. His hand snapped away from his crotch and balled at his side. Caught off-guard he turned around.
Obi-Wan's eyes were on him already, worry apparent on his features though its intensity was mellowed by the mesh. Blessedly he didn't turn on the bright overhead lights, leaving only the fireless candles glowing along the wall to illuminate the room. "Anakin are you alright?" He crossed the room with hurried steps and, yes, finally. There were the familiar movements of the Jedi he knew, the stride of a General, quick and efficient.
The fingers that reached for him and then shrank back when he lifted an arm were still adorned with those long nails, and Anakin realized belatedly that they had done remarkably much to distract from the rather broad nature of the palms. But had that been it? Trickery of the eyes and a mere suggestion of something else that had been enough to blind him to the truth? A hand curled around his left wrist.
"Padawan?"
He blinked. The lashes really were so pretty on his Master's face. He lowered his eyes but all that reminded him of were the boobs his master was now having, and displaying in that dress. They looked so soft, too, rising and falling with his Master's accelerated breathing. He forced his eyes to the floor. It wasn't far to the 'fresher…
"I-" He swallowed. "I'm fine, Master. Really." He blinked again. Obi-Wan lowered his hands.
"How much did you have to drink?"
"Not that much. I'm fine, I just need. Some sleep." He turned away and took a few steps towards the 'fresher, unable to stomach looking at his Master like this. Unable to be seen by him. Not when he could still feel the ghost of every touch from this evening, not when his brain replayed so many glimpses he barely remembered that now had a heated undertone he didn't fully understand. Obi-Wan had always been such a sight whenever he took his robes off after a spar, leaving only the undergarments clinging to his arms and pecs. But that had been admiration from a then teenaged and still-growing Anakin, filled with the wish to just be as strong as his Master already. Less easily explained away were the few times they'd showered next to each other and Anakin had kept sneaking glances at the hair covering that space and the soft cock that hadn't extended past the rounded testicles hanging and softly swaying beneath, and that he then had to leave early because his own dick had shown exponentially more interest than he really had himself.
The waist of the dress cinched, drawing inwards and accentuating the barely-there shape of his Master's hips and he didn't know if it was because he had seen Obi-Wan and thought of him as attractive without knowing it was him or because he'd always liked his Master and had just - what, been too ignorant of his own feelings? For this long? Surely that hadn't happened - surely this was because Obi-Wan had pretended to be a woman, and because Anakin liked women and-
But this was Obi-Wan now. His Master now. Why wouldn't his body calm down? It was just his Master, in his disguise - only…
Anakin risked a glance back over his shoulder and nearly swallowed his tongue. His Master had turned around and taken off the shawl he'd been wearing around his shoulders. The dress, though it did not reveal much at the front, dipped down generously in the back. The line of his Master's spine was displayed in almost its entire length, down to the dimples that sat above the muscles of his rear.
The long-lashed eyes blinked back at him. "Are you sure you're quite alright?"
Had he made a noise? The weight of his erection still straining against the fabric paired uncomfortably with the heat of his embarassment. He hoped the low lighting would conceal both. "Yes?" He replied, and winced at the crack in his voice.
Obi-Wan furrowed his brows at him and pulled two pieces of jewellry off his ears. The effect was immediate. Where there had been calm and undisturbed waters before came a strong ripple in the Force around them now. With his shields so lax the rejuvenation of their bond was almost a slap to the face, and before Obi-Wan's own shields snapped in place the worry and care his Master felt for him washed through Anakin. The sensation was gone in an instant. His own shame replaced it, rolling through him icy cold and then burning hot. How much of what plagued his mind had escaped out into the Force? Into their bond?
"I- Was wondering why I couldn't sense-" He waved a hand towards Obi-Wan. Anakin's throat was so dry. He tried to swallow but nothing happened.
Obi-Wan was still looking at him from across the table that stood between them. In the half-dark it was difficult to read his expression, and Anakin was too fearfully holding on to his shields now to try to detect the minute changes in the Force around his Master that could've revealed hints towards his emotions.
"It's a new version of suppressor cuffs." Obi-Wan looked down on his hands weighing the pieces. "I was asked to try…" He trailed off as he put the jewellry down. Looked up again. Something impossible to decipher on his face.
Anakin's dick twitched at seeing his Master's hands let go of the metal and interlock their fingers. Had they been wearing their usual clothes it wouldn't have been visible - Obi-Wan's hands would've vanished in the sleeves of his outer robe. Did he always do this when he…?
The silence stretched between them. If Obi-Wan had felt what had occupied Anakin's thoughts in the time between leaving the gala and now - and Anakin had no illusion of his Master being so incompetent as to not notice - what was there left to loose? They were no longer bound together, not as Padawan and Master. Nothing of what transpired between them, or not transpired between them, would matter. They would return to Coruscant and ship out to the battlefront soon after. It didn't matter. Obi-Wan's eyes on him as he rubbed a thumb over the jewellry on his wrists and then began to tug it off didn't matter. Anakin swallowed and yet that didn't stop the words from slipping out anyways.
"You're so beautiful, Master." It escaped him too fast to hold back. Obi-Wan froze. The last bangle was prevented from sliding off his wrist as his hand clenched. A hint of the bashful demeanor he'd worn among the gala attendees stole back into Obi-Wan's body-language now, something almost timid. Anakin took a step forward without meaning.
"Thank you, Anakin. It's good to know the disguise was not only believable but also appealing." Appealing. Anakin bit down on his cheek.
"Yeah," A strange breathlessness had settled into his chest, especially as their eyecontact held. Something ached in Anakin's chest. "It really… really is. Was."
Obi-Wan looked away and put the last bangle down carefully. Anakin realized then that his Master wouldn't acknowledge what he must have felt from him, not past a barely-there blink-and-you'll-miss-it allusion to it. Anakin felt like he was standing on hot sand, torn between remaining where he was, and wanting to dive deeper into those urges that nudged him towards his Master now, driven by the evening's events and his own arousal in responding to those events. It wouldn't matter what he did now. The morning would come and Obi-Wan would go back to his usual self. Contained, restrained, fastidious; politely ignoring his former Padawan's failings. They were no longer his to point out and correct. The silence was almost unbearable. Anakin half wanted to be called out. If only Obi-Wan would say something, for his comforting voice to carry through the quiet air and fill it with something Anakin knew and loved and-
"Do you need help with the dress?" Anakin heard himself asking. It was something a good Padawan would offer to their Master, surely? Helping with their clothing? "Or- or your wig? I can take care of that if-"
"Ah, thank you, but-"
And then the broad shoulders that appeared almost dainty in those clothes and that get-up were under Anakin's hands. He had the mind to keep his lower half angled away, though the fabric falling over Obi-Wan's ass called to him, begging him to press his groin against it. He wanted so badly.
Obi-Wan sighed as Anakin's hands made contact and pressed into the sore spots that even a pretty disguise wouldn't erase, and that only someone that knew where they were hiding could uncover.
"You're too tense." Anakin mumbled, head dropped low. He brushed the long hair away from the shoulderblades. The scent of Obi-Wan's perfume rose, mingling with his natural sweat. It was so difficult to keep listening to what his Master was saying, but he was talking still, Anakin could feel the vibrations through his fingers where they sat and massaged his Master's shoulders. That was what it was supposed to be like. His Master doing the talking, and him not saying anything because Obi-Wan knew better, and more, and whenever Anakin opened his mouth it would end in disaster anyways. This wasn't a disaster, not really, but it still kind of was because Obi-Wan had undoubtedly seen what was going on in Anakin's head and had likely already drawn conclusions of it before Anakin understood even half. It wasn't really fair. A warm palm covered Anakin's mechno hand where it was still rubbing circles into the muscle.
"Are you listening to me, Padawan?"
"Of course." Anakin replied.
"What was I saying?"
The karking silence stretched between them again and it was worse than knowing he'd been caught lying. Anakin lowered his forehead until it rested against the back of his Master's head.
"I'm sorry," He said, and meant it. For not listening, for not being a better knight, for not recognizing him earlier. Obi-Wan sighed. Squeezed his fingers.
"I know."
But what did he know? How much did he know? Anakin felt horribly small, clinging to his Master like he wasn't a fully grown man. But was he? He curled his hands and cupped them over his Master's shoulders. He snuggled closer and leaned his cheek into the curve of his Master's neck, his lips nearly brushing the knob of the spine. And then he moved his head a little and did let his bottom lip touch the skin there. Obi-Wan went still under his hands.
"Anakin-"
"You really are so pretty like this, Master." He mumbled and it was the most devastating thing to admit to it now, like this.
"Anakin you shouldn't..."
"But you've seen that I do." It was misery that rang through his own words now, but what use was there in denying it? "You have, even if you're too polite to admit it. I'm a disappointement, for my lack of proper shielding, for- for being attached to my Master like this, for not reading the mission debrief and- and for-" He pressed his eyes close and willed his tongue to stop moving already. "I'm sorry." He whispered.
"Oh Anakin." Obi-Wan leaned back towards him, just a bit. "We're not responsible for our thoughts. You're not a lesser Jedi for having them." His own thumb rubbed over the joints of Anakin's mechno hand.
"Easy for you to say." Anakin mumbled, still hiding his face at the back of his Master's neck. "You're the paragon of a good Jedi..."
"Am I?" Obi-Wan turned his head though there was no way for him to see his former Padawan. "If you think I am, then there is no reason for you to think of yourself as less-than." Anakin furrowed his brows.
"But I'm not! My thoughts-"
Obi-Wan's hand on his own tightened. "Your thoughts don't make you a lesser Jedi, Padawan." His lecturing voice, even if it had a raw edge to it now. Anakin had missed it terribly. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be much better than yourself."
Anakin stilled. What? Surely his Master- Surely he wouldn't-
"Do you have such thoughts too?" Anakin whispered, barely daring to voice the thought. It felt- preposterous, to even assume...
"Yes." Obi-Wan replied. He was looking straight ahead again though his head was still carefully leaned against Anakin's. "Sometimes. But I do not let them shape me or lead my actions."
"Unlike me." Anakin closed his eyes again. He allowed his own body to come closer and touched it to his Master's backside, feeling like enough time had passed that his dick would have flagged and returned to a more managable state. Unfortunately their height difference perfectly lined up his bulge between his Master's cheeks, and feeling their presence, his dick stirred once more.
"Sometimes I admire you for it." The words were so quiet they barely registered.
"What?" Anakin asked, certain he must have misheard. "What's admirable about that?"
"Heeding the Force makes you a better Jedi. Attuned to the workings of the universe."
"This isn't the workings of the universe." Anakin mumbled and pressed his growing erection further into his Master. Obi-Wan made a choked off noise - disgust, probably. Disappointement that his former Padawan would even use a moment like this to twist and turn his words. Obi-Wan's second hand caught hold of Anakin's hip.
"It's not." He agreed with a low voice.
"I should... leave." Anakin sighed. He knew it was the best thing to do.
"Where would you go?" Obi-Wan asked, his hand on Anakin's hip. "We still have the night before we're scheduled to return to Coruscant."
"I can't well stay, now can I!" Anakin said, hurt and confused at once. His Master remained quiet and it only sowed doubt in Anakin's heart. Hadn't this been what he'd been supposed to say? Had he picked wrong again? "...Can I?" He asked, meek.
He heard Obi-Wan swallow. The firm ass pressed back into his crotch a bit but when Anakin went to move and pull away, the hand on his hip stopped him. The pressure on his bulge increased, and trapped as he was, Anakin could barely bite back the groan that wanted to escape him.
"Master-" He muffled himself against Obi-Wan's shoulder because it was easier than anything else. Didn't even kiss the skin, only pressed his mouth against it, and it still wasn't enough to keep the noises down as there was almost something like a rhythm established - if pressure simply increasing and then falling away could even be called that. It was enough to have Anakin's cock dent the fabric of his pants again, and for Anakin's hips to twitch forward without his choice. The little punched-out noise came from Obi-Wan again, and this time Anakin wasn't as quick to dismiss it. This time he paused and thought, and when he rolled his hips again and felt his Master quickly swallow half of it down he knew it for what it had been. A moan. He let his lips touch down more gently. More like a kiss. More like several kisses that spread over Obi-Wan's spine and into the crook of his neck, which was exposed to him by his Master tilting his head aside. The hand that had held his hip wouldn't let go but his Master still braced his other on the table in their front after Anakin purposefully ground his erection into his Master's ass, testing. He peeled one of his own hands away from the shoulder he'd been holding on to for the past minutes and slid it down his Master's side. It was one smooth glide down, nothing interrupting the motion. Not even the bump of covered fabric as Anakin's fingers reached his Master's hips.
"Did you not wear anything underneath?" Anakin breathed out. Obi-Wan shook his head.
"No I- The tape, to hide my- But nothing- Nothing else-"
Anakin groaned. To know his Master hadn't even bothered to put on anything - had been walking around without anything underneath-
"Tape?" He asked belatedly, brain slow to catch up.
"It helps smoothe down the groin, and hides my- It's already loose now, here, I'll just-"
Anakin reluctantly brought a little distance between them as Obi-Wan bend forward, reached down and under his dress and then pulled at something. A long piece of shaped something dangled in his hand as he stood up straight again. Anakin crowded in close once more and hooked his chin over his Master's shoulder. He could see down the front of the dress now - the boobs couldn't obscure the way the shimmering dress was pushed out just above Obi-Wan's legs. His Master moaned as he rubbed over his crotch to the side, not touching the erection directly.
"Feels much better..." He sighed. And then breathed in in alarm at feeling Anakin's hand close around the throbbing organ, wrapped in the softness of the dress. "A-Anakin-" Their cheeks touched. Obi-Wan was now holding on to the table with both hands. "I've never-"
"You've never touched yourself here?" Anakin asked. It seemed impossible. But then again, until this day his Master not being the perfect Jedi inside and out had seemed impossible as well. Maybe-
"No, no I have, I just- Never had someone else... Do this."
Anakin twisted his wrist and stroked the considerable length his Master was now hiding under his dress. "Does it feel good?" Anakin asked.
"Y-Yes..." Obi-Wan breathed out, the word shaky and soft.
Anakin's second hand came around his Master's front and he wrapped it around the base of the cock still hidden from view as well. "You feel good, too." Anakin mumbled. His hips were still grinding against Obi-Wan's, a bit more forcefully now that he had an anchorpoint to stabilize his Master with. He massaged the cock in his hands, going so far as to reach one hand lower and cup the balls beneath. Obi-Wan moaned out loud at that. He slapped a hand over his mouth and the next sound was muffled, but that one moan alone was music to Anakin's ears. He shuddered. Had they been naked their skin would have undoubtedly made much more noise than their vocal chords combined. But as it was, Anakin's hips pumping against Obi-Wan's made little sound though to an outsider the motion would have been unmistakeably lewd. It didn't matter that they were both still fully clothed. Anakin had never felt better, had never felt happier and more aroused than in this moment, with both hands on his Master's genitals, repeatedly pressing his erection against said Master's ass. He made a shallow fist of his hand and cupped it over Obi-Wan's tip. Obi-Wan wheezed. For the first time he moved forward willingly, kriffing the hand Anakin had offered to him. Pleasure shot through Anakin. He thought about taking his own cock out and sliding it into the sleek fabric between his Master's cheeks, but then he felt Obi-Wan tensing, moaning loud even behind his hand, and just in the moment after, the throbbing in his hands had a big wet spot spreading on the dress's front. Obi-Wan's head fell forward as he leaned on his hands, breathing heavy and legs wobbling. Anakin's hands drifted back to the meaty hips still pressed against his crotch and moved close. Hugged his arms around the sturdy waist and gave himself over to the feeling of humping his Master, knowing the other's cum was staining the fabric already.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan moaned and Anakin's hips did a desperate thrust. There was no warm, wet hand or hole for him to push into, nothing that would welcome the seed he was ready to give. But it didn't matter because it was his Master's body that was still flush against his own, his Master's back that was arching beneath him. He closed his eyes and thought of how good it felt, how good it was. He wished to be inside his Master so their encounter would leave something of himself inside Obi-Wan. A lingering reminder, a whisper of what it had been like when Anakin had still been marked by the single braid falling past his ear. He wished to give his seed to his Master's body. He came in his pants instead. Short, intense pulses that had the fabric by his tip grow saturated and moist. He moaned and pressed closer to his Master.
Groaned as he came down from the peak and felt relief settle in his limbs. He had needed this. Badly.
"Thank you, Master." He mumbled between lazy kisses pressed against his Master's shoulders. "You felt so good. So good. The best."
His Master snorted softly. "Surely you've had better than me before. I'm hardly-"
"No." Anakin said, too pleased to feel like argueing. "Were m' first, Master."
"Oh." It escaped Obi-Wan softly.
Though he was loathe to do so, Anakin peeled away from his Master's back. The cum in his pants was cooling already and unpleasantly tacky. No doubt his Master wanted to clean up and just go to sleep already. Anakin took a step back. When Obi-Wan turned around, the damp spot at his front had only spread further. His now limp cock gently pushed against the fabric, creating the barest hint of something hiding underneath the fabric. It wasn't a conscious decision for Anakin to step closer again and press a kiss to his Master's mouth, but he just- his Master looked so beautiful. And after a moment of kissing him, of cupping his face and feeling the slightly wrong texture of the face mesh, Obi-Wan's hands found Anakin's wrist and his waist and he wasn't pushed away. He was held just as close.
written for @virginwan weekend day 1 - feminzation + coming in pants
Tags: Star Wars; Obi-Wan x Anakin; Love Confessions; Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker; Set During The Clone Wars; Cheek Kisses
Summary: anakin returns to coruscant with a newfound realization he intends to share, preferably with a small box of spalmond chocolates for Love Day
Words: 2275
read it on ao3
The day was stretching long. From an early morning departing Modul'ka-a and - regrettably - letting it fall into seperatist clutch indefinitly, to the hyperspace trip back to Coruscant, to the ship inspection, the official debrief, the informal debrief with his men, to an untimely meal in the mostly barren cafeteria because as much as he wanted to just fall into bed and sleep forever, he also couldn't ignore the painful growling of his stomach any longer. The time difference between Modul'ka-a and Coruscant was jarring. When Anakin rose from the table he only had one last thing to do before he could set his feet on the well-known and worn path to the flat he still shared with his old Master.
The time between his knighting and the present day was a blur. One day Obi-Wan had been by his side, always a step ahead and a solid, square back, strong shoulders to take the brunt of whatever faced off against them. And then he hadn't been anymore. Anakin still caught himself reaching out, leaning into the Force and its everlasting presence, for the signature that had become so intricately interwoven with his own during long years of training that he'd stopped thinking of them as seperate at one point. But he was only one now. Confined to just one body, one signature. Even in the Temple he was on his own. Many Force signatures milled in the ancient halls and myriad levels surrounding him. But most of them were muted, dull, barely flickering to life. None could offer the warmth, the relief, the soothing his own war-worn and eternally unsettled self needed. And so he didn't try. Shielded himself as he moved through the halls to the corespondance room, only distantly aware of the other Jedi passing him by. The mood had acclimated to the times. The hallways weren't filled with bustle and the laughter of younglings anymore, faces were neutral or acceptably worried, and especially at this hour the foot traffic down away from the more communal areas trickled out.
The droid manning the counter reactivated into servicing mode as Anakin entered the room. It whistled at him and he smiled, for the first time that day. He inquired about the comings and goings and felt a spark of delight at hearing padawan Scops had received a suspiciously shaped package that had to be opened under supervision and revealed to be an edible sex toy from the mid-outer rim. How the padawan had managed to order it was left to his wonderings, as well as what the present Masters must have looked like.
He inspected the little box the droid procured for him and, finding its contents to be in impeccable shape, thanked the droid before turning and finally, finally, heading to the shared quarters. His home.
Obi-Wan had let him know earlier that week that he'd be back at about the same time as Anakin which had been enough to carry Anakin through the bitter realization that Modul'ka-a was a lost cause. The signs had been there for days but Anakin, and his men, hadn't wanted to admit it. Mostly Anakin. As long as there'd been even the sliver of a chance…
It had earned him an uncomfortably close brush with death, a quarter of his battalion dead or injured and nothing else to show for. Except a realization he'd kept tucked away somewhere close to his heart. He hadn't poked it much yet. Hadn't had the time, or a peaceful moment to do so - excuses, Anakin knew. The turbolift ascended with him inside and he stepped through the opening door on autopilot. Up here was even quieter. Not even the mousedroids were scurrying past as he set foot in front of foot, creeping ever closer to his haven. The measly pack of luggage with mostly dirty clothes and very little keepsakes was waiting for him by the door.
Seeing it brought a wave of exhaustion on that he was nearly incapable of withstanding. The wall's material was cool to the touch as he braced his flesh hand against it to prevent a crash into the single thing keeping him from rest. Cool, but not cold. Thrumming with an energy deeply imbedded within the structure. As he looked down light began to glow from the deep, thickly corded powerlines stretching far, far below, twining into a coil of energy the temple was build upon. His temples began to pound in tune with his heartbeat and he closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against the metal of the door and fought to get the secondary layer of reality out of his head. He peeled away from the Force, aware of how it amplified his hypersensitivity. His clothes rasped against his skin, loud. His breath and heartbeat roared through the otherwise quiet air, but the whirr of the lights and the hissing of the air circulation and the pulling of his prosthetic against his skin and the buzz of feedback from it to his nerves and-
The door closed behind him and shut the world out. The scent of tea and moist earth suffused the air and carved out space in his lungs, more with each breath. The big windows overlooking the city had their blinds drawn near completely. A used cup sat on its saucer in front of the sonic cleaner, visible from his position. The sight of Obi-Wan's boots by the door, the worn cloak over the back of the couch nearly brought tears to Anakin's eyes. He shoved the bag with his clothes away from the door. His Master's Force signature filled the flat like the known and beloved scents did the air. It was a steady thrum and had not changed even with the noise of the door, nor did it react as Anakin carefully let out a breath and dared to extend himself outwards. Just enough to feel, just enough to reach and connect. His knees buckled as his eyes closed. Weeks and weeks of an existance only half. Half of a whole, half of a bond, half of himself. He was careful not to let too much rush out of him at once. His Master was asleep and the last thing Anakin wanted was to disturb him. His head tilted forwards. Fabric bunched under his hands and when he opened his eyes he saw he'd made the trip across the room to the back of the couch, fingers clinging into the brown of the discarded cloak and the standard cream of the couch. He looked back towards the door. The box with Spalmond chocolates sat neat and tidy under the rack meant to hold their weapons. Safe and uncrumpled. Good.
He consciously let go of the couch and picked his saber from its place by his side. Didn't put it on the rack it was meant to be on but on the low couchtable instead. Tugged his belt off and shucked out of his tabards. His armor had remained in the hangar and he was grateful for it. One less thing that his Master would chide him for not storing properly once he'd wake up again. The undershirt and compression leggings were reeking horribly. He didn't spare a thought to when he'd showered last, and it wasn't any of his immediate concerns now either. On bare feet and feeling strangely exposed wearing only his undergarments after weeks spend layered into his robes and armor for days and days, he padded over towards his Master's bedroom. Inside was lit similarly as out. The blinds were drawn nearly to the bottom of the windows and only left a small space of light flooding the floorboards. The bare shoulders of his Master peeked out the top of the covers. His hair looked darker in the low light. Maybe it was because he hadn't had a decent shower in too long as well. Anakin felt oddly reminded of his early days as padawan, stealing into his Master's room after strange dreams had disturbed him or sickness had crept in.
His Master's hair was longer now though. And Anakin himself grown. He lowered his rear to the standard mattress. His Master's face was turned towards the edge, cheek mushed into the pillow he was hugging with both arms. No visible injuries. Of course not. His Master was well-adjusted and put together. His Master kept himself and his men safe. His Master was good at that.
The little something Anakin had kept tucked away wormed its way out of the place he'd stuffed it in. He let it. Watching his Master's face it was almost easy to let it rise, travel up through his chest until it burst in his mouth and gave free the words hidden inside.
"I missed you, Master." His voice was hardly more than a whisper. He reached out with his flesh hand and brushed the strands that had fallen into his Master's face away. They were cool to the touch - not greasy. Of course his Master must've found time to use the 'fresher before falling into bed. Of course. Always fastidiously neat and clean. A fond smile worked its way on Anakin's face. The burst pearl's words began to crowd on his tongue. For one breath it was difficult to get enough air in, to breathe around the sudden pain crawling up his windpipe. "There was a blaster shot that barely-" He swallowed halfway through the sentence. "-Don't worry though, Rex- nevermind. Don't worry about it." This was so kriffing hard, and his Master wasn't even awake. A sigh escaped him. He leaned both elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry. I missed you," he began again, hoping this time the words would come out right. "And the only thing I could think of when that shot grazed me was that that could have been it. I wouldn't have made it back. To the camp, the ship, here. You. I love you, Obi-Wan." It slipped out and then it was free and it was easier than he'd thought. When he looked back, his Master's expression remained relaxed and at peace. "I love you so much." Anakin whispered, eyes unmovingly trained on the face he'd missed most while far away. He reached out, slowly. Wrapped his flesh hand around one strong wrist and felt the steady pulse beating under his fingertips. Dared to slide his Force signature closer to the pulse eminating from his Master. "I missed you. I'm so glad to see you." With every word he leaned down further, until he could feel the warmth of his Master's skin on his lips. Pressed them feather-light to the cheekbone revealed to him, and stayed for an endless moment long. He closed his eyes and held his breath.
For one moment everything was silent.
Then Anakin pulled back, thumb rubbing over the prominent vein at the edge of Obi-Wan's wrist, and sat up. The little box of chocolates would have to wait until tomorrow. Coruscant's Day of Love celebrations would be long over by then, but their lives didn't necessarily allow for such frivolities anyways.
He was about to stand up and retreat when his Master drew a deep breath. Anakin stayed frozen to the spot, half hoping Obi-Wan would simply shift and not wake.
"'nakin?"
Sleep-rough, lilting coruscantii accent. Anakin had to blink back tears he hadn't felt coming.
"Yes, it's me Master. Hello." He hoped the wobble in his voice wasn't audible through his whisper.
"When d'you get back?" Obi-Wan's eyes were slits in the dark. He'd rolled on his side, blanket revealing his pecs down to his nipples. Combed a hand through his hair so it'd be out of his face.
"Just a few hours ago. Don't worry, just- go back to sleep. I'll go."
His Master's eyes had closed again, and Anakin thought it safe to retreat. But when he made to push off the bed two hands reached out and grabbed him, tugging him down into bed. He held his breath again as Obi-Wan shuffled back and made just enough room that Anakin wouldn't take a tumble off the mattress. The blanket that was draped over him was clean, dry and warm. Already his limbs felt too heavy to move. Thankfully his Master was wearing soft sleeping pants and hadn't blacked out entirely nude. That was Anakin's thought as his Master grumbled and looped an arm and a leg around him, pulling him flush with the man's chest. There was no space to put his own arm if not over the thick waist pressed against his own.
"You smell," his Master grumbled against the top of his head. It lacked the usual annoyance. Probably because he was more than half-asleep.
"Didn't shower yet," Anakin admitted, feeling embarassement heat his cheeks and ears.
"You eat?" Obi-Wan sighed, already sounding close to gone again.
"Yeah," Anakin nodded, and finally adjusted slightly to fit himself better against his very warm, very comforting Master.
"Good." Obi-Wan mumbled, one hand rubbing over Anakin's upper back. "Good…"
The warmth extended from Anakin's front and their points of contact to envelop him fully. The sensation swept from his head down his body, one long wave of comfort cushioning him against the world. Anakin's eyes closed without his input. Obi-Wan's Force signature cocooned him and dulled the miniscule sounds from beyond the bed. Drowsiness swept around him, so heavy and yet caressing him so lovingly that the tension melted from Anakin's muscles.
He was home. And safe.
Tomorrow was a distant possibility and too far away to pay any mind.
He was home. And he loved his Master so very much.
this was written for @obikin-valentine-exchange
thank you to coffee for prompting me with "kissing them sleeping" :)
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Entanglement (8878 words) by StardustNSunshine
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types
Summary:
Doctoral candidate Anakin Skywalker gets more than he bargained for when he signs up for Professor Kenobi's elective.
The professor was beyond amused. He shouldn't enjoy this. But the way Anakin pressed his lips together and refused to look embarrassed pulled Ben’s mouth into a small smile.
Anakin lingered a second too long before storming out the door.
The young professor knew it was improper of him, but he was enjoying taking the time to slowly crumble the chip on Anakin’s shoulder. Perhaps once he freed him from the weight of that massive chip, the young man might actually learn something.
Obi-Wan wakes up to a feeling, a subtle tug on his consciousness, light and familiar. Tender. His body slowly emerges from his slumber before he even opens his eyes, and for a while, he allows himself to revel in this in-between, letting his senses reconnect back to the life and sensations around him. The soft cotton of the sheets wrapped around his legs and waist, the reddish light pressing behind his eyelids, the solid warmth snuggled against his back, alive, a breath tickling the back of his neck.
Anakin is still asleep, a hand firmly wrapped around his torso, clinging to him even in his dreams. Obi-Wan listens to his respiration in the stillness of the early morning, to the calm metronome of his heart resonating against his back, marveling for the umpteenth time at the mere existence of this moment. Of this. Of them.
Reaching out for the golden fingers locked on his sleeping shirt, Obi-Wan runs his own on top, gently stroking the cool metal until the mechanism progressively unclenches on his own, leaving him free to move and turn around to face Anakin.
Only then, he opens his eyes.
It's a silly promise he made to himself the first time he spent the entire night in Anakin's bed. For as long as he was allowed there, by his side, he would wake-up to the sight of his face laying on the pillow next to his own.
It was 1957 nights ago.
1957 nights since the day that broke a part of his soul, since Padme died and left two tiny newborns behind, since he almost lost Anakin to the dark side.
1957 nights later, he still wonders why the Force allowed them to reconcile with peace instead of punishing them for their sins. For that he's grateful every day.
Next to him, Anakin's features are soft, his body slack with sleep, chest rising steadily. Attracted like a moth to a flame, Obi-Wan rises his hand, letting the tip of his fingers brush against his lover's cheekbone, following the slight hollow of his cheek down to the edge of his jaw and running his thumb under the plump curve of his lower lip.
Anakin's mouth opens in a small sigh as Obi-Wan's fingers come to a standstill on his face. Another sigh and Anakin slightly tilts his head down to press a lazy kiss on the pad of Obi-Wan's thumb.
"'Morning." He mumbles sleepily, circling Obi-Wan's waist with both of his arms to pull him in a closer embrace, stretching his pouty mouth for a kiss without even opening his eyes.
Obi-Wan gladly indulges, moving his fingers from Anakin's face to the mass of curls entangled on his nape and grabbing them gently to angle the kiss in a way that makes Anakin moan softly.
"Good morning, darling." He whispers in a smile against Anakin's lips.
"You've been awake for long ?" Anakin asks between two lazy kisses.
"Long enough to watch you sleep a little bit." Obi-Wan replies, slipping his free hand under Anakin's shirt and up his back, pressing his palm on the warm skin in between his shoulder blades.
"That's creepy." Anakin retorts before stretching in his arms with a yawn worthy of a big lothcat.
It makes his shirt rise up, exposing the golden expanse of his abdomen and waist and Obi-Wan is hit with the sudden and primitive urge to press his skin against his own to feel him in every way possible.
Anakin makes a disapproving noise when he pulls away, quickly replaced by a content smile when he realizes that Obi-Wan is simply getting rid of his shirt, and raises his arms in turn.
"You're not a child." Obi-Wan remarks with a quirk of his eyebrows.
"I've never seen you complaining about having to undress me before." Anakin replies with a sly grin.
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes for good measure but makes a quick job of pulling Anakin's shirt above his head and down the foot of the bed.
"Come here." He asks, lying back on the mattress, arms open.
Anakin doesn't waste any time, settling in on top of him, one leg between his own, hands curling around his shoulders and head resting in the crook of his neck with a pleased sigh as he wiggles a little until he finds himself comfortable. Obi-Wan wraps his arms around him and presses his nose in his curls, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. Anakin's fingers are drawing idle patterns on his shoulders and the top of his arms, his breath light on the hair of his chest.
Their skin is pressed against each other, soft and warm, and Obi-Wan can feel Anakin's ribcage and belly matching his movements as they breath together, hearts answering to each other in their own symphony.
I could spend the rest of my life like this, Obi-Wan thinks. He has everything he needs in the crook of his arms. His entire galaxy. He doesn't need more.
On top of him, Anakin's breath progressively slows down again, his consciousness retrieving in their bond as he falls asleep once more. Embracing him tighter, Obi-Wan places a kiss on his head and allows himself to close his eyes as well, for a little bit.
The next time he opens them, he's alone in the dark.
The bed is hard under his back, the poorly padded mattress between his body and the stone doing almost nothing to stop the cold from sipping into his bones.
A shiver runs down his spine as his dream gives way to reality.
There's no warm body tightly curled up between his arms, only the cold and rough sheet he has sewn himself from old pieces of clothes. No soft curls tickling his neck and the underside of his jaw, no sweet scent of vanilla floating to his nose in the first rays of morning but the smell of his own cold sweat.
There's no laughter, no happy sighs, no gentle moans, no crooked smile or mischievous gazes but the sound of the wind in the silence and the sight of the desert outside of his cave.
No familiar body to worship, to press against his own, no heart beating at the same pace but solitude and the sound of his own broken heart pumping in his ears.
It's been 1957 nights since the day that broke a part of his soul, since Padme died and left two tiny newborns behind.
It's been 1957 nights since he lost Anakin to the dark side.
