instead of his usual dark colored clothes, padakin wears a white elegant outfit with veil covering his face. obi-wan was struck by his padawan’s angelic beauty, but at the same time felt guilty for feeling that way.
anakin knelt in front of his master then obi-wan unveiled his face and cut his padawan braid.
I like to think anakin is a protective dad for the twins but he tries to be understanding with their love life. because he and padmé had been through a secret romance/marriage and he doesn’t want them to experience same struggles they had.
Oh oh my b I thought the jig was due upon delivery of your services. Brace yourself.
*I jig so hard I fall through the floor onto my neighbor’s kitchen table*
Right & Rain [Obikin | AO3 | ch1]
Chapter 1 of Right & Rain, the promised omegaverse fic is finally here!
Synopsis: Although Anakin's crash out of the century has saved the Republic, it has also landed him on indefinite house arrest under Obi-Wan's watchful eyes. Given Anakin's propensity to resist any sort of authority, it shouldn't be surprising that this arrangement is a source of new trouble.
But unlike last time, Anakin has everything under control (he doesn't have anything under control).
-----------------------------------------
Anakin's very happy to be a beta, so he would appreciate if it his body stopped trying to get Obi-Wan (his former Master, current warden, and beta) to knot him by pretending to be an omega. His body disagrees.
Since I received a satisfactory and entertaining jig (amazing performance. Love the enthusiasm. 10/10. Thank you, anon), it's my turn, now. I present you the new omegaverse fic. Chapter 1 was already covered in the Tumblr post, but I suppose you can compare my first draft with the finished product. There're some changes.
As promised, there'll be daily updates.
And we should all check out the lovely, gorgeous fanart @kirab0sh1 made (it's here and it's so amazing!) The section the fanart depicts sits in the second chapter, but it's never too early to admire amazing art.
Well, I finished the first draft of chapter 8 on Thursday. And then, on Friday, I had a bit of a crash out.
A tiny one.
My (supposedly) 40 hour office job has been quite stressful lately.
Furthermore, I wasn't too happy with chapter 8, so I was being quite liberal with the rewriting. However, rather than just removing everything, I kept recycling bits I liked, so I have a feeling this first draft is barely coherent, too. Editing is going to be rough on this chapter.
So, I've been writing smutty omegaverse instead (as one does when one has a tiny crash out). Which turned has its own problems, but I would really like to work on this for a few more days. I pasted it below so you can see what has kept my occupied. It's beta Anakin x beta Obi-Wan, but there's a lot of slick and 'alpha's involved because it's Anakin).
But beyond the rambling in the parentheses, I will pick up the editing of No Strings Attached again. I hope that the withdrawal symptoms aren't too bad. I'm still committed to finishing No Strings Attached in a timely manner.
But if you're curious as to what I did write these past 4 days, I can give you the (almost) unedited version of what I did. Very NSFW, by the way. And like 11k, so there's actually a lot under the cut.
The need swept through him without warning. Every muscle in his abdomen and the small of his back cramped. Anakin shot through his feet, teetering as a dizzy spell hit him. His knee hit the table, making the cups and tools rattle. The sharp pain barely registered compared to the rippling muscles in his abdomen and ass. Stumbling over his feet, he retreated to his bedroom.
He pressed a hand against his abdomen, which did nothing to calm the cramping muscles. Anakin couldn't make sense of his rebelling body.
The door closed behind him automatically, and Anakin turned and lifted a trembling hand to lean against the metal. Another spasm traveled through his abdomen, turning the muscles in his thighs and ass tense.
In five minutes, this would pass.
His inside rippled, hollow with hunger. Since the war had ended, he had rarely missed a meal. Moreover, the suggestion of food nauseated him. Thus, this wasn't real hunger. It was a phantom, his traitorous body acting up without his permission.
Panting shallowly, he closed his eyes. Under him, his knees already buckled, too weak to carry his weight when he ached.
So hollow, a foreign mental voice whimpered. So hollow.
His hips twitched, almost twitching as they rutted. This was the final push that made Anakin's legs crumple like wet cardboard. He collapsed against the door, sliding down the cold durasteel. Pinpricks of sensation sparked under his skin as if he wasn't wearing several layers of thick fabric and leather to protect him from the cold durasteel's bite.
A weird, low sound was dragged from his dry mouth, breaking on erratic breaths.
Caught between the dichotomy between his hungering body and confused mind, Anakin could only stare at the door. This would pass, he knew. It was just another episode in a long row of them.
Five minutes was all he needed to collect his wits.
Yet, while his mind ran on logic and this promise, his body was ruled by instincts and hormones. His hips twitched again, and Anakin's head fell back, lolling on his shoulder and making his neck ache with the strain. He couldn't bear it any longer.
Logic told Anakin this wasn't him, but his body craved guidance, a steady hand curled around the back of his neck, and a cock buried deep inside him.
Oh. Oh, yes. That would feel so good. Oh-so-good. Anakin needed it.
He needed it.
While Anakin clung to the promise that he would be back to normal in five minutes, a weird voice chanted incessantly.
Alpha, alpha, alpha, the little voice pleaded, and Anakin's lips shaped around the words, too. Yet, no sound poured from his parched mouth, only ragged, humid exhales. Alpha, a part of him whined, sounding so sad and forlorn.
It was eerily reminiscent of what Anakin would suspect an omega would be. Never mind that Obi-Wan would chew him out for 'archaic prejudices.' This was what omegas did.
Though Anakin couldn't be sure whether all omegas experienced such a consuming need. Since his emotions ruled him, it was entirely possible the longing to be cared for was disproportional. Nevertheless, Anakin experienced it with an intensity that left him ravenous.
Alpha.
Like he was some karking omega.
He cradled his belly with a hand, rubbing over the layers of his tunics and tabards absentmindedly. The emptiness was so difficult to bear. If only an alpha stuffed him with his cock, filling him with seed that couldn't escape for the knot plugging his hole… He would be powerless on the alpha's knot, at the alpha's mercy, but alpha would take such good care of him.
Oh.
Arousal made him rub his thighs together, wiggling on the floor uncomfortably. He rutted against the floor, realizing his cock was hard in his pants, leaking hot precome that chilled him as it soaked the fabric of his underwear. He rolled his hips like an animal, pressing his sensitive cock to the floor. His clothes dragged over his erection while the unforgiving solidness of the floor hurt.
It hurt, alpha.
Tears burned in his eyes, and a whimper built in his throat. Hurriedly, he shot to his feet, clinging to the idea that this would pass. Pacing through his room helped somewhat, but this craving and heavy, hot arousal in his groin remained.
He needed alpha -- urgently, desperately, immediately.
With his body going into overdrive, his analytical mind searched for solutions, wondering what relief he could provide or find on his own. For he had no alpha. Mostly because he had never needed one.
This was insanity, Anakin knew, but neither the desperate tears welling in his eyes nor his vehement denial could help him now. He wasn't an omega, but his body seemed to believe he was.
He gasped for air, his breath dragging over his throat, and Anakin's body jolted, arousal shooting through him as his body made the connection between his labored breathing and an alpha sheathing himself into his body with such force that all air was expelled from his body. His knees buckled, caving under his weight, and Anakin stumbled, almost crashing against the floor.
Just in time, he caught his weight with a hand on his desk, pushing himself back on his feet.
The pacing resumed in a futile attempt to expend the jittery energy Anakin brimmed with. In his pants, his cock was rock hard, throbbing like a second pulse that echoed in Anakin's body. Mortified, he came to a stop in the center of his room, meeting his incredulous expression in the window of his room.
For weeks now, with increasing frequency, he suffered these flashes. Short periods during which Anakin's body rewired itself, believing it needed an alpha's knot. However, Anakin would never produce the slick required to accommodate a knot, for he was no omega.
Anakin Skywalker was a beta.
Cradling his stomach like he possessed a womb, ready to be filled with an alpha's seed and pups, was equally nonsensical. Because Anakin Skywalker was a beta. Ergo, he didn't have the required bits and pieces.
Yet, his body persisted in this delusion, craving an alpha. An alpha's attention, doting, territorial behavior, protection, and knot.
An added humiliation was that Anakin knew why he experienced these flashes. With an agonized groan, he buried his hands in his hair, tugging on the tangled curls harshly. Pain did little to fill the void in him that called for an alpha.
Usually, the flashes would have passed by now. If this was the price he had to pay for intergalactic peace, then he would gladly take five minutes of this misery -- this yearning for something he couldn't have. However -- and Anakin checked the chrono on his discarded commlink quickly -- twenty minutes was pushing limits Anakin had never cared to explore.
His breathing rasped in his mouth, his tongue feeling too large as his legs grew too wobbly to support his weight. His knees crashed into the floor loudly, but he couldn't even hiss in pain, his head flopping like a rag doll as he sagged further into a puddle of hot and heady arousal. His cheek lay flat on the floor, his eyes on the door. Yet, he couldn't see much, his vision blurry with desperate tears.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan called for him, his voice muffled by the door. "I heard a loud sound. Is everything alright in there, or should I stage a daring rescue?"
Despite Obi-Wan's lightheaded question, each syllable was laced with concern, and Anakin's newly developed, highly dysfunctional omega hindbrain made a new connection instantly. As Anakin rolled his eyes to look at the closed door, using the only part of his body he could still move, something clicked in his mind. Or his body, but his mind could follow its steps to a foregone conclusion.
The difference between the caring a mentor provided and an alpha's protective nature was negligible from a certain point of view. And Obi-Wan's concern, the knowledge Obi-Wan would use a Force trick to open the door and check on Anakin lest he remain silent…
Anakin swallowed thickly, but his tongue was in the way. He knew he had to answer Obi-Wan, but his vocal chords only produced a pitiful whine. A loud, pitiful whine that communicated his desperation. As he stifled the noise, he choked on it.
This sound appeared to alarm Obi-Wan further.
"Anakin," he said sternly, turning a name into a demand. And Anakin obliged, urged on by instincts that weren't his. His head lolled back, exposing a throat that didn't have a mating or scent gland, for he was a beta rather than an omega.
Omega hormones, typically present in near undetectable numbers in a beta, flooded his system, making him feel so good for submitting to his alpha. Another keen escaped him, a thrilling sound that clicked in his throat; a silent question to Obi-Wan whether he deserved praise and comfort and perhaps, his alpha's knot.
His alpha's knot.
He had already latched onto Obi-Wan, he realized. Defeated, he closed his eyes, his throat working around silent reassurances.
"You will respond, Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered from the other side of the door, confusing Anakin's body again. Because Obi-Wan's assertion as a Master could be misinterpreted as an alpha's command by the willfully and maliciously ignorant.
"I'm fine," Anakin managed weakly, choking on the words.
"You do not sound fine," Obi-Wan argued. "You will open this door."
Anakin's hips twitched again, and he couldn't stop his hand from sneaking down the back of his pants, testing the limits of his waistband. He heard something snap as his hand pushed further.
He didn't want this. This was humiliating and wrong.
Obi-Wan wasn't his alpha. He wasn't an alpha at all.
"I understand that you struggle after…"
Anakin loathed the drool trailing down his cheek to the floor, pooling wet under his chin. His fingers rubbed over the crevice of his ass, searching.
This was wrong, Anakin knew.
"Well, after what happened," Obi-Wan continued, voice washing over Anakin. "I do not wish to invade your privacy. The Force knows that has happened too much already lately."
Anakin knew he should pay attention to what Obi-Wan said. Dimly, he recognized that Obi-Wan had said something important.
His index finger pressed against his entrance. Anakin's hips snapped. Although the slide was too dry, he forced the tip of his finger past his entrance, fondling his rim.
"Stars," he gasped. "Star. Master. Ah."
"While I know you don't want to hear it, I have a responsibility here. You know what we agreed with the Council after the… the incident. If you open the door to show me you haven't injured yourself -- or worse -- I will leave you to it, Anakin. Please don't force my hand here."
He had to get his hand from his underwear. In a moment of precarious inner strength, Anakin snatched his hand from his underwear. Immediately, his bottom lip wobbled, acting out of Anakin's control. Tears filled his eyes.
"Alpha," he whined, far too loud.
"I will have to open-- Anakin?"
Obi-Wan stopped his yapping, his voice curling around Anakin's name, too concerned.
Although this was not personal, Anakin couldn't help it.
"Alpha," he sighed, his eyes slipping shut. Obi-Wan's voice stroked unexposed nerve ends, teasing them so nicely. Hearing his name in Obi-Wan's Coruscanti accent tamed the part of him that went wild. However, it also sent more ripples through his abdomen.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan cajoled, and Anakin's insides lurched as his alpha pleaded with him.
What?
His indignation over calling his former Master his alpha subconsciously was quickly forgotten. As his insides lurched and his belly cramped, wetness trickled down his ass. He could feel it. Every muscle in his abdomen and ass clenched as he tried to keep it from dripping past his rim, but he couldn't stop it. Tending the muscles made spots deep inside him, in the core of his being, throb like his cock.
Confused, he moaned, his hand returning to his ass. Previously, his rim had been too dry. Now, it was soaked in some slippery liquid that squelched as Anakin pushed his finger inside. His body surrendered easily, opening for his finger without resistance. His rim sucked his finger deeper. Guttural sounds and high-pitched keens poured from his lips as his finger searched deep inside him, looking for the throbbing spots. His hips undulated and twisted on his finger, trying to suck the digit deeper to no avail. The reflexive rocking made it impossible to locate the aching points until he accidentally jabbed one with a finger.
"Uhng," he moaned. The spot was raised under his finger, and as it was stimulated directly, it sent electricity skittering through Anakin's nerves. Under his touch, the tissue produced more of the liquid. Pheromones billowed in the air, the scent sharp and sweet. Inhaling the heady fragrance, Anakin melted against the floor. Although he went limp, his hand still moved, now establishing a rhythm. As the new slick gushed from an active slick gland, each thrust of his finger squelched.
He panted against the floor, tasting slick in the back of his throat, dizzy with the sweet smell of flowery honey.
As a beta, he didn't have incisors, but his gums ached so terribly. The need to bite to put pressure on the hollow ache was so terrible and unfamiliar.
Another finger slipped past his entrance, stretching his rim and hitting his prostate. Anakin squealed, the muscles in his body locking, which made his toes curl and the finger of his free hand dig into the floor. The leather couldn't gain traction on the floor.
The door was forced open. Anakin lifted his head from the floor, two fingers still buried deep inside, saliva dripping from his chin, and tears blurring his vision. Yet, he could see Obi-Wan.
Alpha.
Beta, Anakin corrected. Obi-Wan was a beta like Anakin, though Anakin wasn't acting like one.
Obi-Wan staggered back, a hand rising to cover his mouth.
Did he smell back? Didn't his alpha like the scent of linden flowers and honey?
The honey-sweet scent soured.
"Master," Anakin whined, his voice thick with tears.
"I don't understand," Obi-Wan muttered, shaking his head in confusion. Anakin's bottom lip quivered dangerously. The first tear escaped from his eyelashes, rolling down his cheek to join the small pool of saliva on the floor.
Although Obi-Wan was a beta, he still stiffened as the souring of Anakin's scent registered. He swayed on the threshold. More tears joined the first one, rolling freely down his cheeks. The last time Anakin had felt so pathetic, he had balanced on a precipice, juggling Light and Dark, failing to strike a balance.
The last time Anakin had cried, the Republic's fate had rested on his shoulders.
But he felt so frustrated.
Obi-Wan's gaze didn't rest on Anakin's face, and Anakin realized belatedly that his hand still moved, his body chasing after pleasure that only alpha could provide.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan stammered. "I-- I--"
Obi-Wan took a step back.
"No," Anakin wailed.
Immediately, Obi-Wan stepped forward again.
"You're in pain," Obi-Wan said, opening his mouth to taste the air. Although his nose wasn't nearly as sensitive as an alpha's or omega's would be, Anakin didn't think this was necessary. The fragrance of Anakin's slick was incredibly thick.
He imagined this was what an omega in heat would smell like.
Obi-Wan approached him hesitantly, pausing after the first step to gauge Anakin's reaction. Anakin panted, the need for his alpha and comfort taking priority over the deep embarrassment. He would stew in his humiliation later, sick with how much he had shown to Obi-Wan and how weak he had been.
Obi-Wan knelt by his side. Anakin sucked in deep lungfuls of air, trying to taste Obi-Wan's pheromones. Despite his body's insistence that Obi-Wan was his alpha, reality proved different. He couldn't smell anything.
Obi-Wan hesitated again, wavering before placing a hand on Anakin's shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Anakin swallowed thickly.
"Don't know," he whined. "Help me."
"You have to tell me how, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, that infuriatingly calm veneer chipping off. "What's going on? Should I call a Healer?"
"No," Anakin balked. "Alpha," he pleaded, the incriminating term slipping past his lips.
Anakin Skywalker wasn't an omega. Moreover, he was glad that he wasn't an omega.
"Okay," Obi-Wan said, stress leaking in his voice. "Very well. An unwise decision, but I understand."
The medical assessments Anakin had undergone afterward haunted them both, apparently. Anakin could have spat poison, but he wanted Obi-Wan.
"Let me help you," Obi-Wan muttered reflexively, though he was clearly out of his depth. "Uh," he said, his other hovering over Anakin. "Your pheromones…"
Anakin's heart stopped beating before fluttering at an alarming rate.
"You don't like it?" he asked, too crestfallen to hide his hurt. More tears collected on his eyelashes, weighing them down until they escaped.
"No, no, not at all," Obi-Wan denied quickly, waving his hands. "It's very sweet and, uh… nice. Very nice, Anakin. But you're not an omega, and I really shouldn't be commenting on your slick. It's…"
Obi-Wan paused, picking through his vocabulary.
"Inappropriate," he said eventually.
Anakin scoffed through tears.
"Oh, is it inappropriate?" he sneered, finding a moment of clarity. "I wouldn't have guessed from the karking position I'm in. You opened that door, now deal with the fallout."
Obi-Wan reared back, a deep frown crossing over his face before his features smoothed.
"Tell me how," he ordered, his gaze darting to Anakin's hand. The one that disappeared under his waistband, which visibly distended the fabric of his pants. It was obvious where Anakin's hand had wandered, though the thrusting motion had stilled with Anakin's two fingers still buried deep inside him.
His alpha gave him a command.
"Need to smell you," Anakin panted, born to please his alpha. Except that he wasn't an omega, any omega would be deeply affronted by the mere thought, and Obi-Wan was emphatically not an alpha. Obi-Wan's hands curled around his upper arms, where arm met shoulder, tentatively. Reassured when Anakin didn't lash out, he lifted Anakin's shoulders from the floor and dragged Anakin's body against his. Obi-Wan used one hand to pin Anakin against his body, the palm lying flat against Anakin's back and applying pressure because Anakin would flop back to the floor otherwise. His other hand ran through Anakin's curls until the fingers were trapped in tangles. That hand guided Anakin's nose to the crook of Obi-Wan's neck, where alphas and omegas had well-developed scent glands on either side.
As a beta, Obi-Wan's scent glands were small. They didn't produce many pheromones as a result, which turned a beta's scent so muted.
Anakin had ended up with his nose against Obi-Wan's scent gland a couple of times. All of those were accidents that had barely registered as inappropriate or too intimate because there was barely anything, and they were betas.
As he inhaled deeply, pepper tickled his nose.
"Oh," he gasped, nosing Obi-Wan's scent gland. Pepper and undertones that were still too faint for his nose to identify. As he inhaled again, mint chilled his nose while the pepper prickled hotly. Obi-Wan's pheromones were more of a sensation than a scent, and Anakin wasn't supposed to pick up on them so easily.
He relaxed in Obi-Wan's hold, going so pliant that his fingers slipped from his ass with a mortifying squelch that was loud in the silence. The cramps lessened as he breathed Obi-Wan's pheromones. Although his dick remained stiff, aching with pressure and the need to be touched, he was almost comfortable.
His eyes slipped shut. A headache loomed, promising to center behind his eyes. Typically, these flashes didn't last more than five minutes and resolved themselves. Anakin didn't know how long he had writhed on the floor with his fingers in his ass.
Longer than usual.
This wasn't an ideal development, though not as bad as Obi-Wan catching him.
"We must address this," Obi-Wan said, his chest rumbling against Anakin.
Anakin frowned.
"This is a personal problem," he argued.
"You know under what conditions the Council lets you roam free. No one wishes to put you under close watch."
Because Anakin had struck both the Chancellor and Windu down when it counted most.
He laughed weakly and derisively. "You already watch me," he argued. "You're already not giving me a shred of privacy. If you had respected that closed door, you wouldn't have been bothered by my personal issues."
"Closer watch, then," Obi-Wan acquiesced because he was Anakin's warden in this situation. There was no denying that Obi-Wan kept an eye on his every movement in the Temple.
That was the price of staying in the Temple after almost Falling.
The Council had assessed his Force signature in their Chamber of Judgment. They had never checked his Force signature; thus, they were unprepared for the spreading miasma in Anakin's soul.
He was an emergency. A liability.
Suddenly, the Chosen One wasn't the dagger in their hand, but the vibroblade pressed against their throat. Once wrong movement -- a flinch -- and the blade would cut through their jugular, maiming them.
Killing them.
He had already killed.
"I'll escort you to the Healers after you have rested," Obi-Wan decided.
Anakin's body had decided that his former Master was his alpha. Perhaps there was some poetic irony or justice in this connection.
His body believed Anakin was an omega and Obi-Wan was his alpha.
On Tatooine, Anakin had seen how alphas treated omegas.
His mind knew that Obi-Wan wasn't on his side any longer. Obi-Wan was a guard, but not Anakin's. No, he guarded the Temple against Anakin, who had lashed out and imploded when he experienced the crash out of the century.
Darkness swirled in his soul; one nudge would be sufficient to plunge him into the tar that coated his soul. Tar couldn't be cleaned or removed. Mixed with asbestos, it killed slowly, covering his lungs in a residue that would debilitate him sooner rather than later.
Cautiously, Anakin shifted, which made his pants cling to his ass unpleasantly. He removed his hand from his pants, the air cold against his wet hand. The smell of linden honey grew heavier.
Although Obi-Wan was his warden, Anakin couldn't bring himself to remove his nose from Obi-Wan's scent gland. Pepper and mint filled his lungs, lifting the deep emptiness in his guts.
It couldn't fill the void. Only an alpha's knot could. Nevertheless, it placated baser instincts that Anakin had no experience defying. Obi-Wan petted his back awkwardly.
"It's just an episode," Anakin said.
"And how often do these episodes occur?" Obi-Wan asked without missing a beat.
Anakin nosed Obi-Wan's scent gland, which didn't make Obi-Wan's scent grow stronger. His silence was an answer to Obi-Wan's question.
"While I know a visit to the medical center is a dreadful fate, you must recognize that these episodes are deeply troubling. Especially when we don't know what they indicate."
Anakin recoiled, pushing away from Obi-Wan's chest so wildly that he lost his balance and fell on his back. His pants squelched, but Anakin ignored the humiliating sound. He wished to hiss and spit that he wouldn't Fall.
Obi-Wan's attempt to feign normalcy faltered again.
.***.
Dressed in new pants, Anakin joined Obi-Wan in their living room. He wished he could sort his dignity out as quickly as his clothes.
"Madam Che is looking forward to seeing you. She has missed your positive outlook," Obi-Wan said, still clinging to banter that felt old.
Anakin wanted to respond, but he couldn't. Although he knew he was the one who had blown everything up, he wanted an apology. Anakin couldn't move on without an apology.
One apology, and he would accept everything that happened.
Obi-Wan hadn't chosen his side. Of course, he hadn't. But part of Anakin had believed he would. How foolish he had been to expect more after Rako Hardeen and Letta Turmond. For Obi-Wan, the Order and its Code would always be more important than an apprentice he never wanted anyway.
Yet, when Obi-Wan was so charming, it was easy to forget.
His petty behavior was purely self-destructive, but Anakin still found a sliver of grim satisfaction when he could glare at Obi-Wan and stay silent.
He didn't want to go to the medical center. All Anakin wanted was to erase the past months. If he could return to the Chancellor's office before he had attacked both, what choice would he make?
Walking by Obi-Wan's side to the medical center, dread collecting in his stomach like credits sinking to the bottom of a fountain basin, Anakin would strike the Chancellor down.
However, when he was alone in his bedroom, too aware of the invisible chains he wore, he wondered.
Yet, he couldn't redo the past. Moreover, a Jedi shouldn't ruminate.
Madam Che waited for them in an empty examination room already.
"Take a seat," she said. "Obi-Wan contacted me about an emergency."
Although she looked as calm as ever, Anakin knew she was on edge, possibly wondering why Anakin was here again. Defensively, he crossed his arms. Part of him feared another flash. They were unpredictable, and he couldn't imagine a worse place to go through that mess.
Too open and vulnerable with curious eyes.
He wasn't safe here.
"It's about Anakin's health," Obi-Wan began.
"It's nothing," Anakin corrected.
"It wasn't nothing," Obi-Wan said. "Believe me, Anakin, you will much prefer giving your own account over letting me do the talking."
"I don't even know why you're still here," Anakin grumbled, side-eyeing his Master.
Everyone knew why Obi-Wan was here. After all, Obi-Wan was his custodian. Even as a Padawan, Anakin had enjoyed more freedom, though.
Obi-Wan was the catch that let Anakin off the hook.
He had volunteered, which made this worse.
Because Anakin loathed having a warden. He hated that Obi-Wan had let the Council rule over him.
But he knew Obi-Wan had spoken in his favor. After all, he had been there in the Chamber of Judgment, listening to the Council members ponder his fate. He had been there. So, he knew Obi-Wan had offered, bargaining better terms for Anakin with the tenacity of a…
An alpha.
What was Anakin supposed to think when Obi-Wan had given up on him and defended him simultaneously?
The illusion that Anakin was wise and a good Jedi, someone to be proud of, had shattered. Clearly, Obi-Wan didn't trust him. However, he couldn't let Anakin go either.
And Anakin, who should loathe this position, let it all happen anyway.
"It was… My body believed I was an omega," he muttered. "Briefly."
His gaze darted to Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan didn't add any additional details.
"In what sense?"
Wouldn't the floor be kind and swallow him whole? Wasn't Anakin entitled to some privacy with his Healer? He shot Obi-Wan a pleading side-eye.
"Every sense."
"If you allow me to add to this, Anakin reminded me strongly of an omega in heat."
Madam Che nodded slowly.
"I have a short questionnaire I would like you to fill out," she said.
Instantly suspicious, Anakin squinted at her. "Is it the presentation questionnaire?" he asked. He had already filled that one out once. Back when he was eighteen and the world shone a lot brighter.
"Exactly," Madam Che answered. "And I want you to answer using the period you experienced such an episode as a reference."
She left them in the examination room.
"This isn't so bad, is it?" Obi-Wan asked him.
"Not for you, no," Anakin grumbled.
"Have you considered adopting a more positive mindset?" Obi-Wan asked him lightly. It would be banter, but too much had happened.
"No."
"Ah. I see. But I promise you, Anakin. You will be alright."
"You promise a lot of things," Anakin said. "Especially for someone who lectured me on not making promises we can't keep."
"You must understand the circumstances were different," Obi-Wan bargained. "This is not a mission."
"But perhaps there are still boundaries you can overstep, Master."
Obi-Wan stiffened in his seat.
"You are right," he admitted slowly. "I can't deny that. Forgive me. I meant no disrespect."
When Obi-Wan's voice sounded so devoid of emotion, so cold and impassive, a part of Anakin wilted. Obi-Wan shut him out, and this wasn't supposed to happen.
Although Anakin was glad and pleased, a whimper pushed past his lips.
Obi-Wan jolted in his seat, flinching as he turned to face Anakin.
"Anakin," he gushed, reaching for Anakin before thinking better of initiating touch when Anakin was barbed wire and thorns.
Anakin gritted his teeth as he wrestled with the helplessness sweeping over him.
Alpha rejected him. Alpha was cold with him. Alpha didn't like him.
Anakin's fingers curled around the edge of his seat tightly. It was a small mercy that the cramps didn't return. However, while he wouldn't turn into a panting, aroused mess in the examination room, the soft, vulnerable underbelly of his soul was flayed open nonetheless.
Madam Che swept back into the room, stopping when she noticed something amiss.
"Skywalker?" she asked gently. Was she trying to soothe him? Confused, Anakin lifted his gaze from his knees to meet hers. In his periphery, Obi-Wan sat frozen in his seat, watching him with wide eyes.
"We have an examination room for omega candidates and freshly presented omegas," she said. "Would you be more comfortable resuming this assessment in another room?"
Anger swept through Anakin like wildfire. He had already jumped to his feet before he considered moving.
"I'm not an omega!"
His voice boomed through the room.
"Don't treat me like one," he snarled. Lashing out was his final defence. It was Anakin's only way to hide how weak and uncertain this yawing vulnerability turned him.
Madam Che gave him a brisk nod. Without making more offers, she handed him the datapad in her hand.
"You have already filled out this questionnaire once," she said. "Since then, the questions haven't changed. Would you like me to explain the sections again?"
"No need."
Anakin sighed as he started with the questionnaire. He would comply because his position in the Order depended on his cooperation. However, he didn't have to like it or make it pleasant for any of the involved parties.
He knew it was sullen, but his insides ached like bruises.
Grimly, he went through the questionnaire. Previously, he had answered all multiple-choice questions with negatives without hesitation. Now, some gave him pause.
Other questions were…
He had produced slick.
He had produced enough pheromones for someone to detect them.
Anakin stopped at another question about knots. In this particular segment, he had already revealed too much of his crumbling defenses and state of mind. Anakin knew what these questions would lead to.
He knew how to answer each question to get the results he wanted. His answers so far weren't going to get him there.
Did he have to confess to Madam Che that he did think about taking a knot? That he ached so hollowly? That he had, indeed, felt his slick glands -- which, for the record, should be unresponsive in a beta.
"Is this necessary?" he asked impatiently, his distaste for the questions clear.
"I would prefer to have a complete picture before I share my diagnoses," Madam Che answered serenely.
Anakin lowered the datapad to his lap, his ears ringing with her response.
"You already know what is wrong with me, and you still make me fill in this drivel?" he asked, his disbelief so strong that he forgot to be angry.
Madam Che smiled mildly. "I cannot judge the severity of the situation without these results, and I know you well enough to know we both prefer this method. Now, if I'm correct, you're on the last leg of the questionnaire. May I remind you that all answers are confidential?"
Anakin snorted.
"Like last time?" he asked. Last time, nothing about the assessment of his Force signature and mental state was confidential.
They all knew it.
And the reason everyone knew was because…
He gritted his teeth.
"Fine," he spat. "I will do it."
Giving himself no time to doubt himself, Anakin filled out the remainder of the questionnaire, answering with a confirmation to all questions in the section. Things couldn't get more damning.
"Thank you," Madam Che said as he handed her the datapad. She hummed as she scrolled through the responses, barely taking the time to read them before sharing her diagnosis.
"This is stress-related," she said.
Anakin's jaw dropped. "So, you mean to say," he said slowly, chewing on his words. "That this is all in my head again?"
"No," Madam Che denied. Apparently, this wasn't paranoia or the Dark side manifesting in new and even less popular ways then. "However, you have been under a lot of stress, Skywalker. Your body keeps track even if you yourself don't. And your body has decided you'll have to pay your dues right now."
This was what Anakin got for saving the galaxy.
"Well, I don't want it. How do we fix this?"
Madam Che sighed.
"Usually, I would recommend cutting out the source of stress in your life, but…"
The war was already over, and Anakin lived a leisurely life in the Temple because the people outside the Temple didn't like him very much after he killed both Windu and the Chancellor.
Shit happens. Rather frequently, if you were Anakin Skywalker.
Besides, he had Obi-Wan to look after him as a glorified prison guard, though Anakin was definitely not grounded. The Council was careful. Like when they asked him to spy on the Chancellor.
There was so much resentment in Anakin. Even spending three months in the Temple couldn't lessen its intensity. In fact, the longer he remained in the Temple, the worse these festering emotions grew. No one had touched his Force signature since those first days of relentlessly invasive probing. But Anakin suspected he hadn't improved.
Everyone knew.
Because Anakin Skywalker was special, and that meant he didn't have any rights.
It was uncharitable. Anakin knew there were other, slightly better reasons.
"Do you have any inkling as to what stressors you currently experience?" Madam Che asked him.
Anakin shrugged.
"Nothing," he said.
Madam Che had already opened her mouth before deciding silence was golden.
"Kenobi, do you have an idea perhaps?" she asked, throwing Obi-Wan in front of the speeding shuttle instead.
Obi-Wan sighed.
Anakin rolled his eyes despite focusing on Obi-Wan completely.
"Could it be the Darkness?" he asked eventually. "It oozes and festers. I can't imagine it's… beneficial."
Oh, Obi-Wan was so careful with his words. He really shouldn't have tried.
"Or it's me," Obi-Wan said with a self-deprecating smile. "The Force knows I haven't given Anakin any space."
Madam Che sighed.
"Those are possibilities. However, I suspect it's all the trauma from the war. Small events that all counted toward this. Your body keeps a tally, Skywalker."
Anakin couldn't meet her or Obi-Wan's gaze. He felt too vulnerable to let them see his expression.
"We can try some distance first," Madam Che suggested. "To test your hypothesis. We'll see if things improve or not. If your condition worsens, I think we'll explore some other avenues. Let's see if we can find something that works."
"I would appreciate a treatment plan that has more weight to it than simply throwing ideas at the wall to see what sticks," Obi-Wan said.
"Unfortunately, that's the best I can present today," Madam Che said. "I mean, I'll always recommend that Skywalker does what his body asks…" She paused to check her datapad. "Which would be a knot in this case. If you have an alpha who can help you in that department, that's certainly going to help. However, it feels a bit crude to start with telling Skywalker a knot will fix things, don't you agree?"
Obi-Wan had started coughing halfway through Madam Che's pointed explanation.
"I would rather die," Anakin said, distaste dripping from every syllable.
"Don't say that," Obi-Wan ordered, his voice too tense and serious. How ironic that their roles had switched. Anakin recalled begging Obi-Wan not to make such jokes.
He shrugged.
"Whatever," he mumbled.
Obi-Wan's shoulder slumped.
He had made his alpha sad. How could he comfort his alpha? Would his alpha like to be scented? To scent him? Anakin could be good; he could make his alpha happy.
For kriff's sake.
"So, distance is not going to work with the whole 'we're watching you back, Skywalker' thing," Anakin said, doing a poor imitation of Ki-Adi Mundi's accent.
"I will discuss this with the Council," Obi-Wan said. The Council counted significantly fewer members since the altercation in the Chancellor's office, and Anakin could taste the grief Obi-Wan hid so well. His sharpened nose could catch it in the hint of mint in the air.
Guilt sloshed in his stomach. Unable to look at Obi-Wan any longer, Anakin looked away.
.***.
"Don't look so displeased," Aayla said. "Come on, we'll just have some fun."
Morosely, Anakin watched her.
"I don't want to have fun," he said sullenly, which made Aayla double over in laughter.
"I know how it feels to watch your Master go on an interesting mission without you, but--"
"It's a boring mission," Anakin interjected.
He didn't feel well. There was a niggling anxiety -- the sensation he had forgotten something important. It clawed at his consciousness, constantly asking for attention. The low-level anxiety drained his energy and turned him snappish.
Although Obi-Wan hadn't left Coruscant yet, Anakin still felt as if an eternity had passed. It had been one rotation.
Blaming his unease on sleeping on the couch in Aayla's quarters, he sighed again.
Aayla was quickly growing tired of babysitting him. Apparently, Obi-Wan was the only one who didn't mind Anakin's company and all it entailed. Still, Anakin knew she had volunteered to watch over him, which he was mildly grateful for. Of course, he would prefer to be left alone.
He wasn't going to attack more Council members. And he wouldn't Fall anymore, though he had balanced on the precipice initially. Okay, he had totally Fallen and raved about the Order betraying the Republic and conspiring against him.
He had been a tad violent, too.
Initially.
He couldn't blame people when Windu was dead. Admittedly, the body hadn't been found, but the months of radio silence and footage from the fight were conclusive.
Obi-Wan had protected him.
Alpha, a small voice murmured. Obi-Wan was a beta like Anakin.
Miss alpha.
It would be ridiculous to miss Obi-Wan after one rotation. Obi-Wan hadn't given Anakin a moment to himself -- a lie, but Anakin wasn't in the mood for accuracy -- since he had returned from Utapau.
Only in his room did Anakin have some privacy. Until Obi-Wan had opened that door, too. Obi-Wan took babysitting the fledgling, failed Sith very seriously.
Unsettled, he shifted on the couch. Nausea made his stomach churn dangerously, saliva pooling in his mouth faster than he could swallow. He didn't like this. Something was wrong.
As he jumped to his feet, the world swayed wildly, spinning until his legs gave out. His knees were already bruised. The impact jarred his teeth, which clattered in his mouth. A second later, his hand slapped against the floor, having missed the couch. Pain radiated from his knees while Anakin's body realized belatedly that he hadn't succeeded in cushioning his fall.
Then, all that remained was a cramp rippling through his abdomen, pulling and squeezing, and tearing his spine apart.
A groan was ripped from his mouth. Fear, smelling of rotting linden flowers, bloomed in the air, too rich and present. Only an omega could produce so many pheromones in such a short time period. Betas shouldn't possess the required amount of hormones to achieve it.
Yet, Anakin's body had rewritten itself. And so, he feared for the next part. But the arousal never came. Was that a small mercy when he flopped on his side to curl into a little ball, pain piercing his stomach?
Alpha, that little voice warbled. Miss alpha.
Anakin's body was punishing him for everything he had put himself through. All the stress and the fretting. Every miserable decision and loss that kept him up at night, pacing his room like a trapped rancor. Each outburst that he inevitably regretted. Anakin needed anger to cloak the ever-growing shame that had taken root in his stomach, its expanding root system piercing through the lining of his stomach to let its acid seep into his guts.
"Kark, Anakin," Aayla yelped, rushing toward him.
Sensing an approaching threat -- where was his alpha? -- Anakin lifted his head from the floor to growl at her.
He didn't mean to growl. In fact, he didn't think he had ever produced such an animal sound before, and he would rather never do it again.
Aayla skidded to a stop.
"Okay," she said, raising her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "I get it."
She sounded confused. Clearly, she didn't get it at all.
Agitation swam in Anakin's stomach. He bared his teeth, trying to sit upright despite the pain.
Aayla yelped again when he puked on the floor.
"Wait," she shouted, but it was too late to stop. "What the hell?" she asked.
His scent radiating misery, Anakin flopped to the floor again. His throat was hot with the bitter taste of his bile. Stars. He felt sick.
"I don't feel well," he whispered.
Aayla was beginning to panic, stepping in his direction again. New instincts, driven by the hormones that turned Anakin oh-so-nauseous, made him growl weakly until the growl transformed into ominous retching. Aayla backed away immediately.
It used to be short flashes of unbearably intense arousal. When had it transformed into torture?
Aayla had reached for her commlink, trying to contact someone.
"Kenobi here," the commlink said.
"Master," Anakin gushed. "Master."
"Obi-Wan, have you left yet?" Aayla asked.
"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asked immediately. "How is Anakin doing? Did you say something? Do something?"
"He's sick," Aayla said. "He threw up on my carpet. Honestly, he looks very sick, but he growls, so I can't help him without causing more distress. He calls for you, though. Can you come back?"
Aayla was sympathetic, but Anakin still felt like a bad dog. Admittedly, he had ruined her carpet.
Obi-Wan cursed. "I'll get there as soon as I can. I've already boarded-- Give me twenty minutes."
Anakin breathed quietly, listening to Obi-Wan's voice. Softly, he sighed, letting his eyes slip shut.
When the call disconnected, every muscle in Anakin's abdomen pulled too tight. Groaning, he curled up further, burying his nose in his knees. Aayla made another call, but it wasn't with Obi-Wan, so Anakin didn't care.
He suffered through the cramps, no pleasure to offset the pain here. There was only agony tearing him apart.
He smelt Obi-Wan first. Although it was impossible, he caught hints of pepper and mint a second before Obi-Wan knocked on the door. A whine slipped past his lip, signaling his distress like his scent already did.
Aayla stuck to the walls of her quarters as she headed to the door.
"Obi-Wan, just in time," she said. "Please come in."
Anakin lay with his back turned to the door. Even if he had possessed the energy and wherewithal to turn around -- and he didn't -- the couch would have blocked his view. Panting in his misery, tasting his puke on each harsh inhale, Anakin stared at the ground.
The muscles in his abdomen spasmed ruthlessly. Biting back a pained grunt poorly, Anakin flinched on the floor.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his footsteps loud against the floor as Obi-Wan approached. While Anakin had snapped as Aayla approached him, Anakin crooned and trilled, sounding so utterly imploring and pathetic, as Obi-Wan rushed toward him.
"Yes, dear," Obi-Wan cooed.
Alpha was here.
Anakin whimpered, and he worried he did this on purpose. Although Obi-Wan wasn't an alpha, he still sucked in a loud breath. And it spurred Anakin on. Anakin melted against the floor when Obi-Wan crouched in front of him, beige filling Anakin's vision.
Obi-Wan's hands curled around his shoulders to haul Anakin's chest from the floor. With no regard for the puke smeared around Anakin's mouth, Obi-Wan brought Anakin's face to his neck.
%%%% Intrusive, jarring author's note: Would Obi-Wan really do that without prompting? Is he really that perceptive? Does he know what Anakin needs and adequately meets that need without someone (Anakin) spelling it out? I don't think so.%%%%
The sharp scent of mint filled Anakin's nose, which shouldn't be possible. Anakin's nose wasn't sensitive enough to turn the traces of pheromones Obi-Wan produced into something so intense it tasted like the first gulp of water after rinsing his mouth with mouthwash.
He latched onto Obi-Wan's scent gland, nibbling lightly to alleviate the pressure on his gums where incisors would never grow. Pepper prickled his nose, and Anakin's hindbrain, which had chosen to pretend to be an omega, relaxed fully.
As Obi-Wan's scent soaked into his being, Anakin went pliant. Obi-Wan tugged him closer, letting Anakin curl around his body like a comma, knees tucked high against Obi-Wan's thigh and chest draped over Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan weathered the soft biting admirably, only sighing deeply in exasperation. He seemed to interpret this as another of Anakin's idiosyncrasies, which he would suffer begrudgingly since he was Anakin's former Master and current warden.
"Apparently, I can't leave you," Obi-Wan muttered in Anakin's hair, the word fanning against the shell of Anakin's ear.
Disinterested in more quips that couldn't restore what was already lost, Anakin hummed. He nosed Obi-Wan's scent gland, rubbing insistently to urge the raised skin to produce more pheromones. Obi-Wan tilted his head, generous to a fault. For an alpha, this would be a sensitive spot.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan prattled on, undisturbed by this intimacy.
Rejecting.
"Whenever I leave you on Coruscant, you…"
Finally, Obi-Wan seemed to realize the potential ramifications of telling the truth. Anakin waited, lips pulled back in a sneer that Obi-Wan could undoubtedly feel in the crook of his neck.
"Well," Obi-Wan said. "Does this help?"
Anakin disentangled himself, his limbs sluggish and resisting the movement. Leaving the comfort of Obi-Wan's scent gland made him ache hollowly.
"I'm fine," he said. "Whether you stay or go, I'm fine."
Anakin had expected to be angry or insulted that Obi-Wan believed he would go off the bend when left alone. Instead, he could barely muster ire, torn apart by feelings he couldn't identify.
He didn't know whether he wanted Obi-Wan to stay or leave. Frankly, Anakin didn't think Obi-Wan knew either. Everything was a mess, and Anakin could barely stop raving.
%%%% Another author's note: you're in it now. This is, of course, utter nonsense. It's not consistent, and it's flat. Look at how flat it falls. It's shitty writing. That's what this whole scene is.%%%%
He had killed a Council member. He had almost Fallen, balancing on the precipice for far too long. He was a traitor, but Obi-Wan played house, pretending the weather was fine while it poured.
Obi-Wan nodded.
Anakin supposed that if he were forced to give this agony a name, it would be purgatory. Nothing happened in this limbo; every day, he rinsed and repeated the same misery.
Time had stopped moving forward. The fact that Obi-Wan and Aayla feigned normalcy turned him savage. Anakin had killed, but they treated him like he was a victim.
Why couldn't Obi-Wan blame him?
Alpha.
%%%% author's note: That's the smell of me giving up. However, it's all the previous section's fault. If I straighten that out (delete it all), then this will correct itself to (by being rewritten)%%%%
.***.
"I don't know what inspired you to take Skywalker from a familiar environment," Madam Che lectured them from Aayla's couch.
She had deemed that Anakin didn't need more care. Anakin would have growled at her anyway.
"I believe we discussed that stress is a common cause for hormonal imbalances strong enough to temporarily trigger a different designation."
So, this was a glitch? Yet another one, Anakin supposed.
"Taking Skywalker anywhere else but his home is out of the question."
"So, I shouldn't go?" Obi-Wan asked eagerly, sounding strangely hopeful.
Wasn't this Obi-Wan's escape from the former Padawan who still required his supervision? Obi-Wan would never know a day of peace with Anakin Skywalker still around.
Obi-Wan shouldn't have defended him. Now, Anakin would be his burden forevermore.
"You will go," Madam Che decided. "And Skywalker will return to your quarters. Let's not introduce additional variables here."
%%%% author's note: In my mind, this was three sentences. Also, the glitch sentence has to go. It's just me wanting to use the word, which is a little embarrassing to admit. But if I'm reluctant to admit it, I shouldn't be doing it.%%%%
.***.
While Aayla settled on the couch in the quarters Obi-Wan shared with him, Anakin retreated to his room, closing the door behind him.
So, that was one humiliating experience.
At least, Obi-Wan was safely aboard a spaceship in hyperspace, so he wouldn't come running when Anakin acted out again.
Anakin knew why this happened to him. He could pinpoint the moment it all started.
At Anakin's lowest, Obi-Wan had protected him. He had stood up for Anakin, again and again. Until Anakin was discharged in Obi-Wan's care, his responsibility from now on, like they were Master and Padawan again. Of course, it had fooled Anakin's designation when, after protecting him, Obi-Wan was everywhere -- herding him and watching him.
There was only Obi-Wan, the stress, the guilt, and the growing pit of shame that Anakin couldn't quell. His crimes wore him down lower and lower until nothing remained but base instincts that clawed at his body.
Eventually, his body had given in, searching for the comfort Anakin would deny himself. Because any comfort Obi-Wan would offer was born from duty or responsibility. It was as fake as these episodes.
Morosely, Anakin paced his room. He circled the place like his thoughts chased one another.
The memories remained fresh. They couldn't scab and scar when Anakin revisited them compulsively. Always that moment in the Chancellor's office, an impossible choice waiting for him.
What if.
Sometimes, when Anakin was sick of it, he imagined kneeling for the Chancellor. A visceral shudder tore through him.
He would never sink so low. Yet, he had considered it. Of course, he had panicked and attacked the Chancellor while the smell of burning flesh still hung in the air. While his retinas still burned with the afterimage of the Force lightning, Anakin was the last one alive in the office, surrounded by dead bodies.
He couldn't stop thinking about it.
Obi-Wan acted normally, but it was Anakin's fault that so many Council members were dead. He had killed them. By proxy, perhaps, but everyone was in agreement that Anakin had done this.
He didn't want to disappoint Obi-Wan. All the praise Anakin was never worthy of rang hollow now. Obi-Wan hadn't repeated the words. Anakin suspected he never would.
Obi-Wan had believed Anakin could never disappoint him.
And Anakin had promptly proved him wrong.
Nevertheless, Obi-Wan protected him.
It was too confusing.
Anakin retreated to his bed.
%%%% It's time for yet another author note that's going to break any immersion before we proceed with the regularly scheduled program. Here, Rin realized there was a big inconsistency in the plot. She also disliked this previous section. I reckon we can slash it in half and then use three sentences. After I fix the freaking inconsistency. This is not what Anakin is thinking at all, and it's a subpar reason. It does not work. Regardless. Rin was fed up with the difficult plot, so we're going back to the smut. That also means I'm moderately happy with the writing once more, so the notes will stop. You're welcome.%%%%
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
Panting, he woke, his pillow humid under his mouth. His hips rocked into the mattress, chasing pain through his wrist. Confused, Anakin blinked, his eyelashes sticking together.
He had cried, he realized.
Swallowing thickly and huffing hot breaths against his pillow, he wiggled his hips.
Oh.
Pleasure turned his muscles into liquid. Fortunately, the pillow muffled the pathetic sounds. The scent of his slick clung to his bedding. The slick has already turned both his ass and crotch slippery and sticky.
More slick gushed from his ass, a drop trickling down his perineum to his balls, tickling the skin. The sensation made Anakin buck his hips. As pleasure sparked behind his closed eyes, Anakin's body drew tighter than a bowstring. His spine protested against the strain as he threw his head back to push his cock into the hand that had wandered below the waistband of his pajamas while he slept.
"Ah," he gasped. "Ah, ah, ah."
Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he rutted into the mattress and his hand. He could barely wrap his mind around the fact that another episode had started while he slept.
How long had he leaked slick in his pants and bed?
His rim twitched and fluttered around the viscous slick trickling from his hole and coating his perineum in the sticky liquid.
He was so empty, and that little omega voice promised him an alpha's knot would fix it.
"Alpha," Anakin sighed. Pleasure throbbed low in his pelvis, warm and filling every crevice of his being. It was almost an itch demanding his attention. Demanding to be satisfied. His spine ached until he worked his legs under him, crushing his cheek in the blankets as his ass rose, still covered by the blankets but pointing up like an omega sinking into a presentation stance. Finally, his spine was stretched fully.
An actual omega wouldn't be so wobbly on his knees, but Anakin couldn't care about how silly he looked. Resting his full weight on the shoulder and cheek pressed into the pillow, he reached behind him with his other hand. The slick smeared all over his genitals and ass, even coating the insides of his thighs and threatening to soak the seat of his pants, smoothed the slide of his fingers.
His rim twitched against the pad of his index finger as he rested a fingertip against the furled skin. Every muscle in Anakin's abdomen tensed as his rim flexed, trying to suck his finger inside.
Anakin complied. The hand around his cock had stilled as his focus fell to the fingertip dipping into his ass. More tears welled in his eyes as he drove his finger deeper, filling his ass.
His inner walls gripped his finger, the slick coating his inner walls and ass cheeks producing wet noises as his knuckle came to rest against his entrance.
Slowly, he withdrew his finger again, a shiver running down his spine at the foreign sensation. His inner walls were so slick and wet against his finger, so incredibly soft and warm and spongy. Tentatively, he drove his finger back inside him, still testing, wondering if he liked this despite his body's small, reflexive rocking and shuddering, chasing his fingers when he pulled it back.
Curiosity drove him to search for the slick glands. In betas and alphas, they remained undeveloped. It was nearly impossible to find them, and they certainly weren't a source of pleasure. However, Anakin found the raised tissue easily. Little nubs that sent lightning down his nerves.
Sighing in bliss, he stroked the slick gland he had found. The stimulation urged the gland to produce more slick. The scent of smoky, flowery honey grew so dense it was almost tangible. Oh, he liked this. Anakin's legs parted further to invite a cock in his hole.
He was alone, so he could only stuff another finger in his ass. The stretch pinched and stung, but he couldn't stop anymore. His eyes rolled back as he prodded a third finger against his entrance. Despite the slick massaged into the skin and dripping down his ass, the stretch was painful. However, when his inner walls sucked his fingers deeper, the slick squelching around them, it felt so good.
Going faster, setting a punishing rhythm, Anakin saw stars.
Okay.
Okay.
This did feel good. Too good. Oh, he couldn't stop. His slick glands were so sensitive. Wiggling on his fingers, trying to take them deeper, his little finger straining as he stuffed the other three as deep as they could, Anakin accidentally brushed past his prostate.
Mewling, he arched his back further to hit his prostate.
How good would an alpha's knot feel?
Anakin wasn't an omega. He didn't want a knot.
How good would his alpha's cock feel? Obi-Wan's thick cock deep inside him would touch both his slick glands and prostate simultaneously. Oh, Anakin would come instantly if that happened.
That insidious voice changed its tune quickly, no longer talking about an alpha's knot but Obi-Wan's cock instead.
Despite the three fingers pressed deep inside him, already stretching his rim to its limit, he hungered for more. He was so empty.
This was so unfair.
Powerless tears burned in his eyes as he worked on his finger, hips twisting to make sure he would hit his prostate on each thrust.
Why wasn't it enough?
Alpha, he lamented, the lines between Anakin and his haywire instincts blurred until only need remained.
Obi-Wan, who had vouched for him, protected him from a justice system that had already crushed his Padawan and would swallow him, too. Obi-Wan, who hadn't turned away when Anakin stood in the Chancellor's office, killing a Council member. Anakin, who had fought tooth and nail when he was collected. He had almost killed more Council members before he was subdued. Anakin, who had railed against the continuous assessments of his blemished, tainted, ruined Force signature until the Healers and Council deemed him stable enough to be released in Obi-Wan's care. Obi-Wan, who had volunteered to keep an eye on Anakin, was far laxer than the rules dictated. Obi-Wan had told Anakin he was so proud of Anakin while he glowed with that misplaced pride.
Oh, his alpha -- Obi-Wan -- was so disappointed in him. Although Obi-Wan would never say it out loud, Anakin knew it was true. But he could be good again. He would be so good to the only person who had never let him down.
He needed Obi-Wan so viscerally. The tears from overwhelming pleasure turned too real. Sobbing into his pillow, Anakin whined for his alpha.
Alpha isn't here. Need alpha. Need Obi-Wan. Why isn't Obi-Wan here? He promised the Council? Obi-Wan.
His mind chanted his Master's name, curling around it possessively while bargaining with a cruel universe that denied him his Master.
Alpha promised.
Anakin sniffled pathetically, hips still working as he rode his fingers, but incapable of reaching any release without his Master.
There wasn't even a trace of his Master's presence in his room, nothing he could cling to to pretend Obi-Wan was here. Desperation made him resourceful.
Because wouldn't his Master's room smell like Obi-Wan?
The thought of wallowing in Obi-Wan's scent made his inner walls spasm around his finger. Precome spurted from his cock, adding to the mess of slick and smelling just as sweet as the slick everywhere. Anakin had realized how smoky-sweet his arousal would smell without the pain. Because for the first time since these flashes had started, there was only pleasure.
Deep, decadent, all-consuming pleasure that throbbed in his body like a second pulse, centered around his cock, engorged slick glands, and a spot buried deep in his core.
Anakin pulled his fingers free, the slick turning them slippery. The skin had pruned from sliding in his ass and the thick cover of slick. It would be embarrassing if Anakin weren't preoccupied with swallowing whines at the loss of his finger.
Now, his abdomen cramped, his body demanding to be filled. He was so hollow.
So empty and abandoned.
Standing on shaky legs, Anakin shuffled to the exit of his room, the seam of his pajamas rubbing against his sensitive cock with each step. The elastic fabric was tested beyond what it was comfortable with, trapping his cock, and it was deeply unpleasant. Nevertheless, the slick was worse. The slick had soaked into his pants, which made them cling and squelch with each step. The fabric rubbed against his perineum and had molded oh-so-uncomfortably against his balls.
Quietly, he opened the door to his bedroom, glancing around the edge. The living room was doused in the darkness. He waited for a long moment, his eyes roving uselessly over the furniture as he assessed the situation. Aayla didn't move on the couch. Reassured that she hadn't noticed him, he slipped to Obi-Wan's bedroom, keeping his footsteps light. With his pajama bottoms resisting every movement, turning him over-sensitive and over-stimulated, it was a miracle that he reached the closed door without tripping or giving up. The promise of Obi-Wan's scent, though it would be barely there since beta pheromones were so light and faded too quickly, kept him going.
When the door to Obi-Wan's bedroom closed silently behind him, Anakin released the breath he had held during the short walk. Inhaling deeply filled his lungs with Obi-Wan's scent.
Oh.
His eyes rolled back and his eyelids lowered as he tasted Obi-Wan's pheromones in the air. They were barely detectable, but Anakin's mouth went dry anyway. He stumbled to Obi-Wan's bed, sinking gracelessly on the blanket. If Obi-Wan were here, he would lecture Anakin for crushing the blankets.
Anakin muffled his whine in Obi-Wan's pillow, sniffing shamelessly. He rutted his hips against the blankets, whining at the awful sensation. His walk had cooled the slick and precome in his underwear and pajamas. Hurriedly, he pulled them down, tearing the fabric with his right hand when it tangled around his ankles. Freed from the constricting pajamas and underwear, he lowered himself to the blankets again. Although the blanket was soft, it still rubbed against his erection.
Their scents mixed, the mint and pepper mixing perfectly with the honey.
The part of him that had whined for his alpha, his Obi-Wan, quieted. Rather than twisting into a presentation stance, he slumped against the blankets, sucking the fabric into his mouth to taste his alpha and soothe his aching gums. The blanket muffled his soft, relieved sighs and the happy thrills that Anakin had never produced in his life.
He sounded like an omega.
It was also another question on Madam Che's checklist that he would have to correct. Not that he planned to ever fill out the damned thing again.
Obi-Wan's scent was stronger here, but still so light. Already, Anakin's smoke and honey scent overpowered it, erasing Obi-Wan's presence. Soon, the blankets would only smell of the slick and precome Anakin smeared on them.
Groaning desperately, his gaze flicked to the room, desperately looking for another source of Obi-Wan's scent.
His gaze locked on the cloak hanging down a peg by the door. Eyes widening, he stared at the cloak. His fingers dug into the blankets as he realized he would have to leave Obi-Wan's bed.
A whine rumbled in his chest, long-drawn and thin. He couldn't leave after settling in Obi-Wan's bed. There was only one solution that even Anakin's muddled mind could come up with.
He hadn't used the Force for a while. Because people flinched and looked when he did. It made them curious and far too nosy, their presences brushing by Anakin's Force signature to test how much Darkness remained.
To use the Force when he was alone felt juvenile.
And so he hadn't.
The Force reacted as easily as ever, the cloak falling from its peg and flying through the room to the bed. With trembling fingers, Anakin tugged Obi-Wan's cloak closely around him, surrounding himself with Obi-Wan's scent. Even a beta couldn't stop leaking pheromones when they sweat, and Anakin was oh-so-delighted to discover Obi-Wan's scent clung to the material, soaked deep into the fibers. The cloak was soft and well-worn, small items shifting in the pockets.
Debauched moans ran free, too loud in the silence that always reigned when midnight had passed. Anakin couldn't care. He couldn't stop wrapping himself tighter around Obi-Wan. This was a thousand times better than the freshly washed blankets.
Anakin could die happy, his nose itching with the scent of pepper and mint. Lying fully relaxed on Obi-Wan's bed and wrapped in Obi-Wan's cloak, Anakin could focus on the need pumping through his veins like adrenaline. However, rather than sharp, the arousal turned the world hazy. His focus had turned inward to his cock. His hand was hot against the shaft and wet from his slick, which made the slide effortless.
Although his body was too hollow, Anakin stroked his cock, fingers closed a tad too tight. His precome mixed with the slick Anakin got everywhere. It still leaked from his ass, running down the inside of his thigh like sweat.
Dimly, he knew he had ruined Obi-Wan's cloak and sheets. He would fix it later, he promised. Then, only pleasure remained, and the wild chase as it built. All the distraction Anakin had was Obi-Wan's scent, the soft cloak, and the building pleasure. His hand pumped frantically, his hips rocking to meet his grip on his cock.
Stars. He was so empty. If only Obi-Wan were here, wrapped over his back.
Anakin froze as his imagination devoured the mental image. Only his hand still stroked his cock in a rhythm that Obi-Wan would likely chide him for.
Would Obi-Wan remove Anakin's hand from his cock?
Anakin swallowed thickly.
What if Obi-Wan made Anakin come from his ass alone?
The idea that Obi-Wan would be slightly selfish was both ridiculous and far too appealing. Anakin took a fold of Obi-Wan's cloak between his teeth to nibble on the fabric, which lessened the pressure on his teeth and gums. Obi-Wan's scent coated the back of his throat.
"Master," Anakin sighed, the sound swallowed by the fabric in his mouth. His rim fluttered as he came in spurts over his head, coating the blanket and cloak in his semen, too. Anakin's hips still jerked, and small gasps were forced from his lungs with each spurt. His hand couldn't stop moving despite the rawness of his cock. Even his slick, which was so sticky, couldn't keep his tight hold from chafing.
Groaning like he was in agony, Anakin flopped on his side. Exhaustion seized him as the afterglow of his orgasm settled in his bones. Lassitude turned him lazy. Blinking at the cloak filling his vision, Anakin yawned.
He was tired and oh-so-relaxed.
He nuzzled the cloak until he found the perfect crease-free spot to rest his cheek. Around and on him, the mess of slick and come dried. Even as he basked in the afterglow of his orgasm, the heat of his rapidly cooling body still trapped in Obi-Wan's cloak, slick still trickled from his entrance. Weakly, he tensed his rim, which only made a squelching sound. He couldn't stop the slick from slowly running down the crack of his ass until it reached his tailbone, where it was absorbed in the cloak.
Anakin produced an embarrassingly whiny sound that did nothing to convince his body to stop producing slick. Although he was so satisfied, a part of him still yearned for Obi-Wan's cock, and Anakin didn't think this was an improvement compared to the nondescript alpha's knot he craved previously.
Admittedly, he had been partial to Obi-Wan's knot from the start, but his body seemed to have caught up.
Or perhaps Anakin had started to agree with this new, intrusive voice that told him exactly what an omega would want. And in joining that voice, he had reshaped what it begged for. Too tired and dazed to think, Anakin closed his eyes.
He just wanted to enjoy this haze.
.***.
A hand tousled his hair.
"Hmm?" Anakin hummed, struggling to open his eyelashes.
"You gave me a fright, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. No one else could copy Obi-Wan's accent. Although it was a typical posh Coruscanti accent, no one could roll the syllables like Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's voice was always clipped, each sentence sounding like a witty quip. However, it was also rich and decadent, and Anakin sighed, happy that his alpha was back.
"Hmm," he hummed again.
"I received a report that you had disappeared," Obi-Wan continued. The tension in Obi-Wan's voice helped pierce the thick fog of drowsiness. Blinking repeatedly, Anakin shifted, tugging the folds of Obi-Wan's cloak aside to peek through the gap this created.
"You're here," he accused blearily. "Why are you here?"
One of Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose, and Anakin realized Obi-Wan was gearing up for a lecture. That was okay. Anakin shifted slightly to get more comfortable and be able to look at Obi-Wan while Obi-Wan chewed him out again.
"Because you disappeared from your room and no one could find you," Obi-Wan said, talking too fast. "They said that you had vanished from the Temple, but no one had seen you leave. Anything could have happened to you, and--"
Obi-Wan choked on the rest of his sentence.
"I'm here," Anakin muttered, sleep rounding the edges of each thought, making it impossible for them to fit together.
"I can see that," Obi-Wan bit out. "But you didn't pick up your commlink when I called you. For all I knew, you were gone. What would I have done then, huh? What would I have done if you had disappeared, Anakin? This is unacceptable."
Confused, Anakin shifted so he could pat his pants with one hand.
A string of unfortunate realizations happened at lightning speed, dispelling the last dredges of drowsiness.
"Oh," Anakin squeaked as his hand met bare skin. He wore neither his pants nor his pajama bottoms. Because he had shed his pajama bottoms. Conspicuously, Anakin let his gaze wander over the bed. Likely, he had kicked them to the floor while he rutted against Obi-Wan's bed or slept in his come-marked cloak.
Oh, no.
Obi-Wan's bed and cloak were covered in…
Sensing Anakin's panic, Obi-Wan's other eyebrow joined the first one.
"And what mischief were you up to in my absence? I can smell your guilt on--"
Obi-Wan's voice trailed off as he sniffed demonstrably and did indeed -- quite unexpectedly -- a whiff of what mischief Anakin had been up to. The joke fell flat.
"Oh," Obi-Wan said, surprise bleeding into his voice and expression. "Ah," he added. "I see."
Anakin looked away, too mortified to meet Obi-Wan's gaze.
"And under the cloak?"
Obi-Wan reached for the cloak.
Anakin produced a panicked sound, tugging the cloak closer to his body.
The sound was enough to deter Obi-Wan. Limply, Obi-Wan's hand fell back in his lap. He shifted on the edge of the mattress. The distress in Obi-Wan's expression would be funny under other circumstances. Currently, however, Anakin could barely survive the embarrassment.
"Don't feel bad about it," Obi-Wan said.
"Don't feel bad about what?" Anakin grumbled. "About invading your room? Ruining your blankets and cloak with, uh, everything? About the false alarm?"
"All of it," Obi-Wan decided.
%%%% Final author's note: this is the fic so far. The next logical step is getting Obi-Wan involved. Which, given the concept of this fic, shouldn't be too difficult. As you can see. We're quite far ahead. We have a few open issues. Be warned: spoilers ahead. I want them to deal with Anakin's guilt and to eradicate the root cause of Anakin's 'flashes.' And I have to decide whether Anakin's developed slick glands are here to stay. Of course, he also has to fill out Madam Che's questionnaire again. If the slick stays, that's the only part that isn't up to beta code. But, yes, that's basically it. %%%%
I would love to reblog your art but I think you have the setting turned off? Just wanted to make sure it was intentional on your part and not a mistake! Love your Obikin art so much especially kitty Anakin and preggy Anakin 🩵
Thank you for liking my doodles 🥰🫶
And yes, I intentionally turned off reblog settings. I don't plan to turn on the posts I turned off, sorry!
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
janainaart
jacobvanloon
2087