(Can you tell I have a weird soft spot for Sith!Ani with a somnolent and domestic Obi-Wan?)
Part of my 10 Kisses series. (Which I’m writing very, very slowly. As inspiration hits.)
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Ever since Naboo, Obi-Wan’s nightmares have him falling. Sometimes down the melting pit on Theed, where he falls and falls and falls into the darkness. Sometimes from the gunship onto the hot sands of Geonosis or into the ocean from the rain-slicked platforms on Kamino.
This time it's from the structures on Mustafar into the molten lava.
The brightness of the flame makes Obi-Wan wake. He sits up slowly, his head dulled by the thick-fog of paid medication. For a moment, he doesn’t know where he is and then the richness of the colors speak to him, the feminine touch of the room. Padme’s room. Padme’s apartment on Coruscant.
Padme is gone. He knows it. Everyone is gone. Or as good as gone. His hands touch the neural inhibitor wrapped around his neck. There is naught but silence where there was once the warm hum of other Jedi.
He starts to rise and the pain shooting through his leg is enough to make him sit down hard, leaning back into the pillows. His ankle. He’d broken it on Mustafar. In the fight he had not had the heart to win. Already, it seems like a lifetime ago. Especially when he is clean and warm and wearing fresh clothes. He touches the soft black trousers and the silken blue tunic.
“I always thought you’d look good dressed in blue.” A hand grips Obi-Wan’s shoulder, slides down his arm, tracing the seam of the fabric. His padawan was always tactile. “You need to keep this elevated,” Anakin says as he places Obi-Wan’s leg on the bed, propping a soft pillow beneath his heel. “A medical droid will be here shortly
“Prisoners rate bedrooms and medical care?” Obi-Wan asks after a moment, unable to stop himself.
Anakin smiles, sharp, familiar, strange. “I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to be sarcastic. Welcome home, Obi-Wan.”
In the days following, it becomes obvious his former apprentice no longer exists and that Anakin is more himself than he ever was under the rule of the Jedi Order.
Though Obi-Wan had thought he would be killed in the aftermath of battle, shipped off to parts of the galaxy unknown or worse, he seems to bear something of a status in Anakin’s new household. And though he cannot leave, and he can feel the eyes of droids and humanoid staff alike watching him, he can move around the house as he pleases. Which comes in handy since it seems he’s the sole caretaker for Anakin and Padme’s twins.
A fact that Anakin seems to find alluring. When he watches Obi-Wan feeding or playing with the babies, his eyes light up like the Tatooine suns; when they’re blue instead of that strangely glittering gold, they shine like the noonday sky.
It’s an unremarkable evening when it finally happens, the culmination of this new relationship. Obi-Wan has put the twins to bed, after telling them a story he remembers from the crèche, even though they’re far too young to understand it. As he slips out of their bedroom, pulling the door half closed behind him, he runs into Anakin.
Anakin stares at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. “When Padme died, I thought it was lost. The chance for a family. But it’s not.” Anakin crowds him, caging him against the wall with his arms, leaning down until all Obi-Wan can see is gold skin, blue eyes, dirty blonde hair.
“Anak—“
“Shh. I’ve got you.”
Anakin’s mouth is hot and tastes strongly of caff. He presses Obi-Wan flush to the wall. Obi-Wan doesn’t fight, doesn’t want to wake the twins or anyone else in the household. This moment is not to be witnessed.
“Come to my bed,” Anakin whispers, suggestion and command all at once.
Obi-Wan stares into those glittering eyes, teetering on a precipice.
A Jedi eschewed attachments; they got in the way of their service. But Jedi weren’t alone. They had friends and padawans and partners, sexual and otherwise; a family that could be heard and felt through the Force, even when one was by one’s self at the edge of the galaxy.
For over two years now, Obi-Wan had been truly alone; there had nothing but silence, a void where that family used to be. What Jedi were left, he largely had no knowledge of or connection to; the few he did have a connection to…well, it was far too dangerous to reach for them in the Force, with the menace of the Sith-run Empire looming over them all.
When he was finally awake long enough to feel the Force bond that he had once shared with Anakin settled into place as if it had never been gone, he’d welcomed it. He was no longer alone in the void. And the shame he felt at his need was not enough to overpower his relief.
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Finally got this section worked out.
Now for some character interaction and a tiny bit of plot development (that’s what’s giving me trouble - my plot got a tiny bit bigger and more convoluted).
Did I?
I did? I’ve actually written, based on my outline, two (long-hand) paragraphs for Part V of Acquisition.
I think this will be the last part?
Maybe an epilogue.
I don’t know how this ends. This fic is going to kill me. (It started from a prompt. It was never meant to be a multi-parter with some kind of plot. I don’t even...)
If the gods are with me, it won’t take me until summer to finish it up.
Writing through my block with small bites from the music meme. (Challenge: put your music player of choice on shuffle. Write until the music stops. When a new song starts, switch to something else.)
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Would I take your hand
Would I lead you from the mist
In another place
Where the sun can never set?
- “Doubt,” Bella Morte
“Relax, Obi-Wan.”
It’s strange, hearing his given name from his padawan. Well, padawan no longer. It’s been weeks now, since Anakin’s knighting ceremony.
“I still don’t see why—“
“It’s a ball. People dance. We’re blending in.” Anakin’s mech hand presses more firmly against the small of Obi-Wan’s back, leading him so smoothly in the steps of the dance that Obi-Wan wonders where his pad—former padawan has learned them.
“We’re supposed to be looking for clues to the identity of mole giving information to the Separatists.”
“We are. In a moment,” Anakin tilted his head, “that attaché is going to cut in and ask you to dance. He’s been watching you all evening. This close? You’ll have him eating out of your hands. If you loosen up.”
“Anakin, really, I—”
“May I cut in?”
Anakin’s smirk is not subtle. “Of course. But I want him back at the end of the evening.”
A little time travel today since I'm posting Day 4 of SubObi Week on Day 6. The prompt was Double Penetration.
I'm still not entirely happy with the end. Chuck was right. Endings are impossible. I think they’re even harder for smutlets. But oh well.
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How Obi-Wan had let them talk him into this, he wasn't sure. He couldn't blame it on the head injury. He'd been cleared for duty a week before. He couldn't blame the sweet, honeyed wine they served on this planet. As pleasant a buzz as he'd had, he still had control of his own faculties. Perhaps he could blame Anakin's begging eyes or Qui-Gon's lustrous voice.
Or maybe he should just blame himself and the fact that his heart and loins leapt at the idea of having both of his lovers, both of his soul mates, inside of him.
So here he was, having been rolled from his back to his hands and knees, straddling Qui-Gon, limbs loose and heavy from the wine, the first orgasm of the evening, already hard again, his ass pulsing around the nearly too large plug Anakin had slipped inside him earlier and was now carefully pulling out of him, leaving him empty and gaping. But only for a moment.
Beneath him, Qui-Gon shifted, guided himself to Obi-Wan's entrance, pressed inside, stilling as Obi-Wan gasped at the sensation, then pressing further. He grasped Obi-Wan's hip with one hand. Just over the soul mark of the sleeping Pamarthen lion. The other hand stroked Obi-Wan's erection, priming him for what was to come.
“Breathe, my Obi-Wan.”
“Relax,” Anakin said in turn, pressing up against him from behind, skin as hot as the Tatooine sand. And then he was pressing inside him too, hand cupping Obi-Wan's other hip, where the black line of a krayt dragon curled sinuously. “You can take us. I know you can.” Anakin pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's neck.
The sensation of being penetrated was startling. Sharp, dull, deep. Just this side of painful. It would have been, had his lovers not prepared him so well. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, focused on the sensation, the heat, the slip and slide of the erections vying for space in his body, the way he stretched around them, the way his body could accept them.
“I can't,” he gasped, trembling.
“Shh,” Anakin said. “We've got you.”
“Breathe,” Qui-Gon whispered. “Be with us.
His soulmates' hands settled on his hips. Anakin and Qui-Gon's fingers intertwining, cupping the marks that bound them both to Obi-Wan. The Force hummed between them, their bond singing with connection, until the harmony was all Obi-Wan could hear, the light of their joining all he could see. It was like looking into the heart of the sun.
Anakin pressed forward and Obi-Wan felt his body yield, felt Anakin sink fit into him.
The tide of the Force receded, leaving him strung out and feeling so full he thought he might burst.
“Oh,” he said shakily, feeling the answering awe from Qui-Gon and Anakin as they held still inside him, barely seeming to breathe.
Maybe minutes passed before Obi-Wan tentatively shifted, drawing a gasp from beneath him a hiss from behind.
“I think,” Anakin said, “you should let us do the moving.”
And Obi-Wan relaxed back into Anakin's body as his lovers took over, the first few tentative movements sending sparks of heat through his cock, into his belly, up his spine. Then it smoothed out, silky and warm. Their movements were slow, fluid, gradually gaining speed as they discovered how far they could push. Obi-Wan lost himself to the sensations.
Anakin's lips were on his, Obi-Wan's head craned almost painfully so they could kiss. Then Qui-Gon's fingers were on his lips, in his mouth and he sucked them helplessly. Their combined hands stroked his cock as his body heated, smoldered, then burst into flames as he came so hard a cascade of stars seemed to fall before his eyes.
Dimly, he could feel his lovers coming inside him. Qui-Gon pressed deep, growled low in the back of his throat. Anakin pulled away until he was just inside Obi-Wan, coming in hot spurts that flowed out of Obi-Wan, streaked Qui-Gon's thighs, the sheets below them.
The world was still swimming as Qui-Gon and Anakin gently pulled out of him, helped him onto his back in the center of the bed. Anakin snuggled up to his chest, butting his head up under Obi-Wan's chin, as Qui-Gon raised Obi-Wan's head and pressed a bottle of water to his dry lips.
“Still wondering how you let us talk you into this?” Anakin said against his throat. Qui-Gon's warm chuckle filled his ear.
“No,” murmured Obi-Wan sleepily. “Now I'm just thinking about how pleasantly dangerous it is when you two start scheming.”
Obi-Wan faltered, his grip on Anakin’s hand slackening before he remembered himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rise. Qui-Gon knew those words. He’d traced them on Obi-Wan’s skin, with fingers, with tongue, always chuckling softly at the amazement he read into the tone. As if the person had never seen a Jedi before.
Obi-Wan smiled faintly and nodded at Anakin.
He kept his mouth shut.
~*~*~
“There’s no mistaking it, Padawan.” Qui-Gon’s fingers lingered over the black swirl of the word “Jedi.” The last time he’d touched these words, just before they left for the Naboo mission, they were as silver as scar tissue. Now, they stood out stark as fresh ink along Obi-Wan’s lower back.
“Master, he’s a child.”
“So too were you, my Obi-Wan. Children grow up.” Qui-Gon’s fingers found the place on Obi-Wan’s thigh. Who taught you to fight like that? The first words he’d said to a 13 year old boy fighting desperately for the only future he’d ever known. Qui-Gon was glad tone could not be conveyed in flesh. He’d hate to have it marking the skin of this beautiful young man. He released the sorrow that thought brought to the Force, knowing how much worse things could’ve been, all those years ago.
“I don’t want to share.” Obi-Wan’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Anakin is not my soulmarked, Padawan. It’s I who will be doing the sharing,” Qui-Gon said gently. “But never mind that. He is a boy still. There are many years before that becomes a question. And who knows how your relationship will develop? There may be no romantic component to it. You may simply find yourself with a true and loyal friend.”
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That’s how it starts. Roughly. (This is a lot more dialog than I tend to write, but that’s how it started coming out the first round.)
How it ends, I don’t know. I’m still thinking the thoughts.
Hey moddy how bout a vaderwan fic where Obi-Wan is an omega and Anakin is an Alpha
This went Obikin instead of Vaderwan. But I’m sure I’ll have some Vaderwan in the same vein at some point. (If I can get Acquisition finished off, I won’t feel like I’m repeating myself by jumping to some other Vaderwan stuff.)
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Obi-Wan recognizes the signs of heat as soon as they start.Though they’d happened only once before in his life, they were hard to forget.That was the day his world took a turn and the latent gene that had once helpedensure humanity’s continued existence switched on and he found himself longingto curl up in his master’s lap. He had thought puberty had been bad. By thetime Obi-Wan came to Qui-Gon, he was too far gone into his heat for thesuppressant medications to work and had to suffer through the fever of hisskin, the arousal that flooded through his veins, the bone deep ache forsomething he couldn’t place.
He’d vowed that he wouldn’t be caught unawares again, andbegan keeping two sets of medications on his belt so he could hide one in whateverquarters they were given or, if the mission called for mobility, in whatevertransport they were assigned.
Of course, when you’ve been abducted and lost your utilitybelt and had your transport blow up, that puts you in a rather tight spot, evenafter the rescue comes.
Which is why Obi-Wan is currently Force locked inside sparsequarters on the Resolute, trying and failing to meditate. The problem isn’t him.Or it isn’t only him. It’s the presence of his former padawan standing outsidethe door, as he has been for the last hour. Obi-Wan can feel Anakin’s frustration, his agitation and beneath it, asimmering arousal.
A handful of years prior to his Knighting, Anakin had cometo Obi-Wan complaining that he didn’t feel well, but it was nothing more than aslight fever and general malaise, so Obi-Wan sent him off to classes. It wasn’tuntil Obi-Wan arrived at the healers to collect Anakin after he’d gotten into a brawl with another padawan that the problem was revealed. Anakin hadpresented as an alpha. A more common occurrence than Obi-Wan’s ownpresentation, though still relatively rare.
Obi-Wan became extra vigilant about his suppressants.
He managed to keep his secret from Anakin for five years.
Anakin had just walked into the war room when Obi-Wan feltthe faint tingling deep in his belly, the tightening of his skin. He finishedhis report with Admiral Yularen and attempted to slip from the room withoutalerting Anakin.
As he neared the door, Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s spinestiffen, pulling the man to his full height. His head turned so quickly Obi-Wanwas sure it was going to wrench off his neck.
A wealth of emotions flooded Anakin’s eyes: disbelief, joy,anger, need, betrayal, want. The wantObi-Wan had been aware of for years. Once upon a time, he’d thought SenatorAmidala would become the focus of Anakin’s attention, but his former padawanhad made his attractions quite clear.
Obi-Wan tried to ignore them.
As Anakin turned toward him, Obi-Wan threwdignity aside and fled. But he knew Anakin would follow. He felt the hot pulseof possessiveness along the remains of their training bond, just as he rushedinto his temporary quarters and engaged the locks on the door, shoring them upwith a little help from the Force.
And now here he stands, or sits, rather. On the edge of thebed, arms looped around his waist, listening to Anakin prowl outside his doorlike a Hrosma tiger. Obi-Wan rests his face in his hands.
“Master.” Anakin stops pacing and takes a breath.
“No.” Obi-Wan’s voice is slightly muffled.
“Let me in.” Anakin holds his palms against the door. He canoverride it. If he needs to. But he’d rather Obi-Wan let him in. Still… Hepulls the cover off the lock panel.
“I will not.” Clearer now. Obi-Wan’s moving closer to thedoor.
“Obi-Wan.”
“Anakin…this isnot the kind of thing I want to share.”
“But it’s exactly the thing you need to share.” Anakin presses his face against the door. Oh. Anakin can smell him: familiar soap,black tea and spiced honey, and a warm musk that makes Anakin’s throat tighten.“Obi-Wan…I can help.”
Obi-Wan makes a half-sputtered choking noise that resemblesa laugh. “The last thing I need is…help.”
“I’m sure you’ve done this alone, Obi-Wan. You know you can. But youdon’t have to. Look…how perfect is it that the two of us werebrought together? How completely unlikely it is for an alpha and an omega tomeet, let alone know each other as well as we do?”
“Anakin, you didn’t even know I had a designation untilnow.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re rare, Obi-Wan. And you, you’reeven rarer. I can’t help but think—No.I know the Force brought us together.”
“The Force or Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan mutters.
“Force.” Anakin lets his head fall against the door with asoft thud. “Do I need to tell you how good you smell to me? How much I want totouch you, taste you? Feel you over me, under me, all around me. Obi-Wan?”
There’s a muffled sound behind the door, half sigh.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakinsays. Then, “Please. Please let mein. I won’t… You know how I feel. I know you know. I’m not exactly subtle. Iwant you. I’ve always wanted you. And I think… I think you want me too. And Iwish—” He sighs. “I wish you’d just let yourself have something you want. Andput us both out of our karking misery.” Anakin laughs shakily. “If you’re in heat andI’m in a rut, who’s going to be lead the charge against Ventress?”
The silence is heavy, expectant. Then Anakin hears the lockdisengage.
Obi-Wan stands in front of the door, barely realizing he’smoved. He can feel Anakin on the other side. Can smell him. Warm spice and thefaintest hint of mech oil. Obi-Wan could bury his face in that scent. Press hismouth against Anakin’s throat, run his tongue along his clavicle, bare his ownthroat for Anakin—
Obi-Wan shivers.
“Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s voice is a low rumble and Obi-Wan’sbelly clenches, warmth spreading down between his thighs, making his cocktwitch. He feels himself grow slick, the sensation still strange but not nearlyas unpleasant now that Obi-Wan may actually have a use for it.
“Please…” Anakinsays.
And moments later, Anakin’s words – they couldn’t bothafford to be compromised and Obi-Wan did want– had him disengaging the lock and opening the door.
“Obi-Wan?” Anakin says, voice rough with surprise, witharousal.
“You’re right,”Obi-Wan says, voice steady over his shuddering breath. He can’t quite meetAnakin’s eyes, looks somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear. “I—“ He cutshimself off, frowns.
Then Anakin’s there, slipping into his personal space aseasily as he always has, closing the door behind him. “It’s okay. You don’tneed to explain. Just…tell me this is okay.” Anakin’s hands cup the back ofObi-Wan’s head, fingers tangling in Obi-Wan’s hair and tilting his head back.Anakin’s eyes are on his mouth.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, watching the way Anakin’s eyes light upand then grow dark as he leans forward and kisses Obi-Wan soundly.
The kiss is the opening of a floodgate and Obi-Wan losestrack of time and action. The next moment, he’s naked, on his borrowed bed,with Anakin lying before him, shirtless, still in his boots with his trouserspushed partway down his hips to reveal a thick erection.
“I need to fuck you,” Anakin rasps.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. It’s the only word he can seem to sayright now.
Anakin pulls Obi-Wan astride him, tugging off his tunic,pulling his trousers down and arranging him as if he were little more than aliving doll. He draws long fingers over his hip and along his ass, one fingersliding into the crevice and over his slick opening, then slowly inside.
“Oh Force,” the words are barely a whisper, “you’re so readyfor me,” Anakin says.
Those words send a pulse of heat through Obi-Wan evenas Anakin gathers him close, grips his hips and steadily pushes into him untilObi-Wan’s firmly seated on his lap staring down at Anakin in surprise. He wouldbe lying if he said he hadn’t expected to be rolled onto his belly as Anakin buried histeeth in the back of his neck.
“Later,” Anakin groans, shifting and setting a pace that ohso quickly drives them toward climax.
Obi-Wan’s eyes widen as Anakin presses deeper into him,swelling until all Obi-Wan can focus on is the fullness of his body, therhythmic pulses of Anakin coming deep inside him and the rush of orgasm boththe thought and feeling triggers. Obi-Wan’s muscles clamp down around Anakin, amating drive from long ago, pushing his body to do what it…actually isn’tdesigned for anymore.
He doesn’t even need to touch himself. The orgasm tearsthrough him, leaving him breathless, grasping at Anakin’s slick shoulders. Andthe mess he leaves across Anakin’s belly and chest is enough to make Anakingroan and grip his hips as he releases inside Obi-Wan once again.
“I never…” Anakin coughs. “I never imagined what this couldfeel like.” He eyes Obi-Wan. “Come here.”
Obi-Wan allows himself be pulled close, head bent to restagainst Anakin’s clavicle. He relaxes under the soothing strokes to his back,his hair, his temple.
Anakin will stay locked inside him for some time. Upwards ofhalf an hour, even. Or, that’s what the articles say. It’s the strangestfeeling for Obi-Wan to lie there, on top of his former padawan, and to feel thesudden pulse and blossom of warmth between his legs, the wetness seeping outaround where he and Anakin are joined when he’s too full to handle anymore.
By the time Anakin is able to slip out of him, Obi-Wan isaroused again. Not the desperate drive to mate of earlier, but his normal, veryhuman arousal.
Anakin looks Obi-Wan in the eye and grins before pushing himonto his back and settling between his thighs, draping Obi-Wan’s legs over hisshoulders and taking his cock into his mouth before Obi-Wan can register theidea.
Anakin’s mouth is hot and lush and just the right amount oftight around the sensitive tip and it feels like mere moments before he’scoming again, tangling his fingers in Anakin’s hair as his back bows and theworld around him vanishes.
Moments later, he feels a gentle kiss against his hip and thenAnakin is sliding up next to him, pulling him into his arms. For a momenteverything is safe and warm and right.And that’s all he needs for his tired body to give in to the exhaustion that’sbeen pulling at him since well before he was rescued.
When Obi-Wan wakes again, minutes or hours later, the heatis burning through his belly. This time, Anakin, waking mere moments afterObi-Wan opens his eyes, puts him on his belly, pushes his legs together andfucks him slow and deep until Obi-Wan comes, pressed tight to the mattress andshuddering as his own semen soaks the sheets around him.
That feeling feeds through to Anakin who groans, bitesObi-Wan’s neck and comes, pushing so deep into Obi-Wan that he can’t help thescreaming sob that comes out of his throat as Anakin swells inside him.
“If you could become pregnant,” Anakin says in Obi-Wan’s ear“I think this is the one that would’ve done it.” And it’s such an Anakin thing to say that Obi-Wan letshis head fall the mattress in a useless attempt to hide his laughter
“O-Obi-Wan,” Anakin says and thrusts hard enough to makeObi-Wan gasp and quiet as he feels Anakin twitch hard and himself grow wetter.“I don’t think now’s the time to laugh at me. You’re going to be enough of amess as it is. You were still so slick and open from earlier,” he finishes,warm breath teasing across Obi-Wan’s ear.
“Force,” Obi-Wanmutters, or tires to mutter. It comes out as more of a croak.
“How long do you think the heat will last?” Anakin lays histemple against the back of Obi-Wan’s head.
“Ah. Literature gives a range, but a standard day or so seems…probable.”
“Meaning you don’t know?”
“…No.”
Anakin snickers against his hair, warm breath makingObi-Wan’s scalp tingle. “That’s fine. Iwant you to myself for at least two more days.”
Obi-Wan hums and tries to shift his legs to a morecomfortable angle, the weight of Anakin and Anakin’s trousers, amazingly, still downaround his knees making it physically impossible. “At least that will give ustime to get you out of the rest of your clothes.”
Finally! I started this sucker three different times yesterday and hated each iteration. I took a break, made functional space in what will be my room/office and came back to it. That helped.
Now, if I can just get the witch!Darcy/Steve fic to start coming along….
Prompt from this list.
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One of the memories Anakin carries away from Geonosis is thatof his master in chains. Bound at the wrists with his arms stretched above him,fingers curving gently over the manacles. Bound, but not helpless, not givingthe satisfaction of struggle. (And there’s a part of Anakin that would like tosee Obi-Wan struggle, watch his muscles tense as he thrashes against hisbonds.)
The image stays with him on the flight home. On the way toNaboo. Even into the depths of his wedding night, as he clasps Padme’s wristsin one hand, watches her eyes flutter as he presses her into the mattress.
The image stays with him, until he’s finally able torecreate it, years later. The world has fallen apart and Obi-Wan is the onlyconstant in his life, the only piece of his past that he has left, the onlything keeping him from falling into the abyss that Master Sidious has pushedhim to the edge of.
Bound, face down, Obi-Wan does struggle, his muscles flexingand lengthening beautifully, against the heated touch Anakin lays against hisspine, the kiss that follows. Anakin stretches over him, tucks himself againstObi-Wan’s back, buries his face in his neck, breathes deep Obi-Wan’s familiarscent—clean sweat, citrusy soap, delicate tea—twines their fingers together andlies still. He relishes the moment of connection, of Obi-Wan here and unable toleave.
