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"Kriff," Anakin says, and misses the bar with his nearly empty drink the first time he tries to set it down. Fortunately, he is not quite so far gone that he cannot catch the glass with the Force, which he manages just before it hits the floor. The liquid evades him. "Fuck."
"Such language, Knight Skywalker," Obi-Wan says, because he knows Anakin expects the first part, and the title makes them both smile. He waves a languid hand. "Fortunately for me, I am no longer responsible for your conduct in any particular." And if he stumbles over the initial "P," well, Anakin has been knighted, and Obi-Wan has consequently been a Jedi Master, for the last six hours, and they have been celebrating for three and a half of those hours.
Anakin, at least, is celebrating wholeheartedly. Obi-Wan is also mourning. This can be a celebration and a wake at one and the same time. He has always wanted to be a Jedi, and accepted over time that being a successful Jedi probably meant that at some point, he would have a padawan knighted, and therefore become a master. But it has never really been the end-goal of his work, so much as the logical consequence thereof.
"That's all you're gonna say, Master?" Anakin asks, then grins as if the word is delicious. "Really, really Master Obi-Wan," he says. "You should really, really keep being the perfect Jedi Master. And. And. Stuff." Anakin licks his lips for the forty-third time that night, because he keeps ordering cocktails with interesting powders on the rim.
Not that Obi-Wan is counting.
"Then come back to the temple with me," he says, in his best command voice.
It gets Anakin up off his stool, though he has to catch himself on the bar. "Right now?" he asks, listing slightly to the left.
"Right now," Obi-Wan says. "I have to practice being a real master sometime."
Anakin winces. "Cannit wait till I'm, I'm, not drunk?"
Obi-Wan is very much afraid that if they let things go until Anakin isn't drunk, Anakin will remember a pressing engagement elsewhere and leave him behind. Anakin is leaving him, that much is clear. Anakin is knighted, and knights leave.
But it is not forbidden for knights and masters to carry on liaisons.
Obi-Wan knows — when he's sober, and in a niggling little voice chewing on his ear even now — that Anakin's heart is too volatile to make it even remotely possible that the two of them could do such a thing with each other without becoming entangled. He tells the voice of his conscience to be silent and stands, far more smoothly than Anakin had. "You can augment your liver function on the way home," he says breezily.
Anakin blinks twice. "Oh. Right."
If he's so far gone he's forgotten to do that, Obi-Wan's plan to seduce him as a valedictory party, never a well-thought-out series of strategies so much as a fevered promise he'd made to himself at least once a week, needs him to become more functional. It's no part of the projected activities for the evening for Anakin to be incapacitated by liquor.
Obi-Wan hums. He's been moderating his own response such that he is on the far side of relaxed, but he'll be fine by the time they're home. "Can you do it while walking?"
"Mm. Maybe." Anakin frowns. "Don't want to overdo it."
"Then wait till we're on the float train."
Anakin's expression clears. "When'd you get so smart?"
"When I remembered to augment my liver function." Obi-Wan is going to need to wait until he's standing still, at minimum, to do another round; unlike Anakin, he doesn't favor moving meditation.
They're companionably quiet on the way to the station. Once they're on a train with other people, they have every reason to uphold the dignity of the Jedi by meditating. No one watching them needs to know that they're clearing a night's drinking away instead of contemplating the mysteries of the universe.
When they reach the temple and are just outside what are, for now, their shared quarters, Anakin knocks his shoulder against Obi-Wan's. "Sorry, Master Kenobi," he says, with a grin and an actual wink.
"Quite all right, Knight Skywalker," Obi-Wan says, and enters the door code. Anakin has been matching his stride and walking with confidence since they got off the train. Clearly, he's recovered enough to be sure of himself, if he thinks it's funny to run into Obi-Wan gently.
That helps Obi-Wan, once they have taken off their boots, to say, "Anakin," though he cannot immediately bring himself to say the rest of what he is thinking.
Anakin turns from where he'd been fetching a glass of water for each of them, which he always does when they arrive. It's a mark of hospitality on Tatooine when they have a guest, and a reinforcement that Anakin is safe and provided for, always, when it's the two of them.
"Yes?" he asks, then frowns. "If this is about me drinking —"
"It's not." Again, Obi-Wan's words desert him.
Anakin hands him the green-tinged glass he prefers, and Obi-Wan automatically clinks it against Anakin's favored purple glass. Once they've had a ritual sip, Anakin looks at him with raised eyebrows. "Okay, it's not about drinking. What is it about — Master?" The title makes him smile all over again.
"I have never considered myself a perfect Jedi, far less a perfect Jedi Master," Obi-Wan says.
"Because humility is a virtue, I know, I know."
"And because I understand my flaws." Obi-Wan sets down his glass. "One of which, arguably, is how fond I am of you."
Anakin drops a glass for the second time that night, and has to contain the splashing liquid with the Force. "Kriff. You. What?" he asks, while he floats the water to the kitchenette sink and puts the glass on the counter.
"Are you quite sober?" Obi-Wan asks. It comes out more sharply than he'd intended.
"I'm not drunk. I can say counterreformationistpostdeconstructuralrusaanism as well as you. You just surprised me." Anakin blows out his breath. "You're — fond of me. Define 'fond.'"
Hearing a turn of phrase he has deployed many times in Anakin's mouth makes Obi-Wan's heart thump, much as the question itself is bringing a flush to his cheeks and ears. "I couldn't very well proposition you before tonight, Knight Skywalker," he says, keeping his voice light despite the tension in his body.
Anakin freezes for a long moment before he bursts into laughter. "Good one, Master. You almost had me for a second there."
Obi-Wan has less than an instant to decide whether to laugh it off too and take Anakin's mirthful response as the loving rejection it so patently is, or whether he needs, for his own pride, to push the issue.
He opens his mind to the Force, as he so often does in moments of indecision, and he is aware of the crackling presence of Anakin in front of him, magnesium-flare bright as ever. But the crackling, sparking energy is less angular than usual, and he is reaching for Obi-Wan in the Force, again, again, pulling back before he makes contact.
Obi-Wan has seen and felt this before, though not in a long while. He has mostly become inured to Anakin through a decade's daily contact. At the start of that contact, Anakin's Force presence reached out for him regularly, unconsciously, until he learned to control it. The yearning has come back when he's been ill, or in the terrible times when he was injured.
Anakin's Force presence brushes against him, raising the hairs on Obi-Wan's neck, or he expands his awareness so that he knows how much Anakin there really is in the room.
Either way, his decision is made. "I wasn't joking."
The next touch of Anakin's Force presence is like being gripped in two hands made of electrical fencing, throbbing through him from his shoulders to the rest of him. Anakin is staring at him. "What?" he asks again, his voice cracking as it has not done in quite a while. "But you don't do that."
Obi-Wan chooses his phrasing carefully. "An opportunity with the partner of my choice hasn't presented itself before."
"Oh." Anakin blinks at him. "Are you sure I'm not still drunk?" he asks plaintively. "Or asleep? Or — wait, are you drunk?"
"You caught the water, so I doubt you're drunk. I can't prove I'm not a dream, but I can say counterreformationistpostdeconstructuralrusaanism, and if pressed, I can define it."
"Okay. Right." Anakin asks, "And you want — me?" as if he's never contemplated the possibility before.
Obi-Wan congratulates himself on the totality of his self-control up to this point, and says, "Yes."
Anakin leaps at him, arms wide, and kisses him with all the finesse and restraint of a tooka that has not seen its owner in a week. Obi-Wan absorbs the full-body impact and the damp, demanding kisses. Anakin's Force presence holds him upright, and Anakin's hands explore his back, then his ass.
The heat that goes through Obi-Wan leaves him shivering, and he tries to kiss Anakin back with equal fervor. He wishes he knew what he was doing.
Then Anakin groans against his mouth. "Fuck," he says, and pulls away. "We shouldn't."
The dread of losing this before it's properly begun drags a cold finger of anxiety down Obi-Wan's back, in defiance of all the heat. "I assure you it's permissible under the Code, and not without precedent."
"I believe you. Just —" Anakin looks away for a moment, then asks, "Is this, do you —" and falters.
Obi-Wan contemplates Anakin's Force presence while he waits for Anakin to form a question he can answer. It's as bright as ever, and the beams and flares are caressing his aura before they back off infinitesimally, then touch him again. Whatever Anakin wants, it is not to stop.
"This is because you knighted me, today, and it's not the start of something," Anakin says, like he's trying to talk himself into it.
Obi-Wan's chest aches with how much he wants to say, "Never leave me," but that exact urge is what he has been swallowing for years. He tells himself he's glad Anakin understands. "Knights and Masters can dally without it meaning anything more than an evening's pleasure," he says, as he has said it in his imagination dozens of times when he rehearsed how he might make this suggestion to Anakin. He's long since decided to keep his phrasing impersonal because he does not entirely believe that the two of them, Obi-Wan and Anakin, can dally without it meaning anything more than an evening's pleasure. Some knights, and some masters, can certainly do as they like.
And then there is Obi-Wan, who will never admit to Anakin how much he loves him, because Anakin believes he is a perfect Jedi. Obi-Wan has done enough to destroy that illusion without intending to err, but it persists; he cannot bring himself to demolish it entirely with the simple, painful truth of his attachment.
He hopes that touching Anakin intimately once will sate the roaring beast of his libido. As soon as they get a chance, Anakin will move to independent knights' quarters, and the temptation will be gone, leaving Obi-Wan with a memory of passion and, for once, an apartment to himself.
He's not looking forward to that loss, but it will be easier to bear, surely, if he can comfort his lonely nights with this evening of celebration, despite the undercurrent of grief.
"All right, Master Kenobi," Anakin says. "An evening's pleasure."
It is easy, even with that poisoned promise of once but only once, to kiss him again, at least to the best of Obi-Wan's newly-acquired skills, which he deploys with somewhat less vigor than Anakin had, nuzzling him rather than outright licking at his mouth.
Obi-Wan tries nibbling his lower lip, a long-cherished fantasy, and Anakin moans into his mouth. The sound goes straight to Obi-Wan's cock, and so does Anakin's Force presence, rubbing gently against him through his robes.
"Patience, Knight Skywalker," Obi-Wan says, and it's only a moment's wrench not to call him "Padawan," richly rewarded by the hazy look of desire on Anakin's face that sharpens to victory at the reminder of his new title. "At least let me take off my best robes."
Anakin laughs. "I want to make you come in them."
Obi-Wan shudders. "That's something a perfect Jedi would never permit himself to do, surely."
Anakin puts his hand on Obi-Wan's erection and squeezes him, leggings and underthings and all. "I hadn't thought of that," he says, with the bright grin he uses when he knows he is saying something that will read as a blatant lie in the Force, and he's doing it for the jarring effect he knows Obi-Wan will feel.
Obi-Wan chuckles, then loses it in a gasp at the next squeeze. "Perhaps this once, to honor your knighting."
Anakin pulls him close again until their erections are grinding against each other and they're chest-to-chest, each undulation sending swathes of heat through Obi-Wan's body, and doubtless through Anakin's. "Oh, I'll be honored," Anakin says, his voice low and fervent. "And then I'll suck you clean."
Obi-Wan makes a soft sound at that; he hopes it sounds less like a whimper to Anakin than it does to him. "And here I was afraid you wouldn't want me."
The way Anakin laughs at that makes it sound like Obi-Wan has punched him. "So I hid it well enough," he says, and the feeling of victory is back, singing in the Force between them.
The whole truth would be that Obi-Wan had been so busy hiding his own desire, and hiding from it, that he wouldn't have allowed himself to believe in any reciprocation shy of Anakin crawling into his bed, naked and unasked. He sees no reason to admit that at this juncture when the alternative is murmuring in Anakin's ear, "Congratulations, Knight Skywalker."
Anakin groans. "I love hearing you say that." His Force presence tingles down Obi-Wan's back, and he kisses Obi-Wan again, slightly less frantically than at the outset. "Thank you, Master."
The far-more-accustomed title in this unaccustomed context has been a mainstay of Obi-Wan's fantasies for longer than he would ever articulate to Anakin. "The reverse hasn't grown old, either."
That gets a crooked smile out of Anakin, and he tangles his fingers in Obi-Wan's hair, kissing him again, again, till Obi-Wan is almost ready to believe he's learning how to do it properly simply from the wealth of examples Anakin has given him. Then Anakin lets his mouth go and says, "Let me kiss your ear."
Obi-Wan knows enough about mammalian reproduction that he can guess that wet, warm friction will be pleasant, but the sting of Anakin's teeth on his earlobe nearly undoes him. "Fuck," he says, and hears how rough his voice is.
"Soon, Master," Anakin says, and then — that must be his tongue.
Obi-Wan can't hold his hips still, can't bear the hot, slick twist of his tongue and the sparks of his Force presence, can't stop himself from coming, just as Anakin wants. He hears himself groan, terribly loudly, much more noise than he'd ever make by himself, but he's not alone, and Anakin is groaning too.
"Oh, fuck," Anakin says, and lets Obi-Wan go, which might have been catastrophic for his newly-wobbly knees if it weren't for Anakin's Force presence embracing him and holding him upright, as sure and reliable as a wall at his back. Anakin's falling to his knees and opening Obi-Wan's leggings, just as he'd said he would.
If Obi-Wan were Anakin's age, the sight of Anakin kneeling for him and licking his lips would have him hard again already. As things are, Anakin will have to be somewhat patient, which has never been one of his virtues.
Then Anakin licks his sticky, softening penis while wrapping the focus of his Force presence around Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan has to bite back a shout — it's too much, it's perfect, it's madness, it's Anakin, and he can't bear to ask for a delay. "Gently," Obi-Wan protests, inasmuch as he can speak the word. He could be patient, but — there is no true need. Instead, he calls on the Force in ways he has not since he was young and foolish enough to test his own limits, and the Living Force makes his pulse speed and his cock twitch.
"There's the Jedi Master I thought I was flirting with," Anakin says, the title a reminder of the day's victory and that Anakin is leaving him, all at once.
Obi-Wan wonders whether the flinch showed on his face, or in his Force presence, which he is still, as ever, shielding. Anakin isn't leaving in this moment, and this moment is what he can have of Anakin.
Anakin licks Obi-Wan again, which may be gentle enough under other circumstances but makes Obi-Wan gasp, because he can feel every tastebud on Anakin's tongue, and it nearly hurts. "How do you want to do this?" Anakin asks Obi-Wan, who feels like his whole body is an exposed nerve.
"Gently," he says again, though he does not truly want to be gentle with Anakin, and the mismatch of adverb and truth will be apparent to Anakin.
"Sure, Master," Anakin says, and the inside of his mouth is almost too hot for Obi-Wan's renewing erection.
"Have mercy on an old man."
Anakin snorts, his mouth too full for a proper laugh, and makes a truly obscene slurping noise that makes Obi-Wan think, ludicrously, "Oh, I'm having sex," as if Anakin making him orgasm once already somehow had not qualified.
The chance of this ever happening again is vanishingly small. That means Obi-Wan has one try to get it right. "Must we do this in the kitchen?" he protests.
Anakin lets him go with a pop and looks up, chagrin writ large on his features, then gets to his feet in one smooth movement. "I got a little carried away," he admits.
"So did I." Obi-Wan shakes his head. "But this is not precisely the venue I pictured when I wondered whether we might ever do this." He offers, "I changed my sheets first thing this morning."
Anakin grins at him. "Of course you'd think of that, Master."
"Only the best for you, Knight Skywalker. Step into my chamber."
That makes Anakin laugh. He takes off his robe as he goes.
Obi-Wan has to pull his extremely sticky leggings and underthings off before he can follow. Anakin turns around in the doorway when he realizes Obi-Wan isn't right behind him and watches him walk across the floor as if they haven't lived together for a decade. But then, Obi-Wan has severely limited the number of instances when he was visibly aroused in Anakin's presence, so this is new ground.
Anakin greets him in the doorway with, "Fancy meeting you here."
Obi-Wan laughs. "Surely we can dispense with the quasi-charming pickup lines at this juncture."
"Probably," Anakin says. He tucks his hands under Obi-Wan's tunic.
"My knees are too old for the bedroom floor," Obi-Wan chides him.
It's only a few strides to the bed, and it's not hard to move together after all the sparring they've done. Obi-Wan knows to his bones how long Anakin's stride will be from the angle of his shoulders and hips, so he's prepared when Anakin's legs make contact with the bed, even though they're kissing again by then, and he's reading the angle of Anakin's hips with his hands.
Then Anakin flops backward on the bed, and pulls Obi-Wan down on top of him with his arms and the Force, which can't be comfortable. Obi-Wan doesn't have anywhere to land except Anakin, but he tries to hold himself up. Ineffectually, because Anakin is holding him too tightly. "Sorry," he says.
Anakin huffs in his ear. "What for?"
"Not getting the rest of my clothing off." Obi-Wan kisses his cheek. "And yours, for that matter."
Anakin arches up off the bed, lifting them both. Obi-Wan wonders how much of that is the Force. "I don't need your clothes off."
"Once was enough," Obi-Wan says with asperity, and this time when he moves to get up, Anakin lets him. "Honestly," he says, focusing on his annoyance while he takes off his clothes so he won't be hyperaware of Anakin watching him. Anakin had put the light on at 30%, which is more than sufficient. "Exactly how much time did you spend imagining masturbating on my clothing?"
"I have no idea," Anakin says. Obi-Wan can hear his smile without looking at him or touching his Force presence. "Roughly speaking, a lot."
"It's not a cornerstone of my attraction to you," Obi-Wan says. "I'd much rather touch you properly than through your robes."
"Oh, all right." Anakin gets up and takes his clothes off efficiently, which gives Obi-Wan time to put his in the laundry bin.
Then Anakin hugs him from behind, pressing naked against Obi-Wan's exposed flesh, his erection hot against Obi-Wan's ass. "Come to bed," Anakin says.
His clothes are in a rumpled pile.
"Are you really going to make a mess of my bedroom, Knight Skywalker?" Obi-Wan leans on the title.
"I can do as I like, Master Kenobi. And right now —" Anakin thrusts against him, his erection pushing sticky and hot between Obi-Wan's thighs. "I'd rather do this than pick up. The clothes will be there when we're done."
Obi-Wan knows that will be all too soon, and that delaying the start by the ten seconds it would take to make Anakin deal with the clothing won't put off the end significantly, either. "If you were still my padawan, I would take you to task."
Anakin nuzzles Obi-Wan's ear and wraps his remaining flesh hand around Obi-Wan's erection. "If I were still your padawan, you wouldn't let me do this." He rocks his hips.
"Let me turn around so I can kiss you," Obi-Wan says, though Anakin's mouth on his ear is driving him to distraction.
"Do I have to?" Another thrust.
"I suppose you could penetrate me from behind if you insist, but it wouldn't be my preference."
Anakin huffs in his ear after a vigorous thrust. "That has no right to be as hot as it is. 'Penetrate you from behind.' You sound like a protocol droid."
"Pardon my specificity," Obi-Wan says dryly. "Did you want to do that, or would you prefer something else?"
"I've never done that," Anakin says, which makes Obi-Wan feel slightly better about the whole thing. He's still moving slowly, teasing himself with Obi-Wan's thighs. "I've seen holos, but lots of erotic holos are unrealistic."
If Anakin were practically interested, he surely would've acquired the relevant implements for safe experimentation by now. Obi-Wan certainly had by his age.
"I've read about it," Obi-Wan says, because that is what Master Kenobi would say. "Extensively. Exhaustively."
"Every treatise about anal sex in the Archives, huh, Master?" Anakin asks, but he finally lets Obi-Wan go so he can turn.
Obi-Wan says, "So you do know me, then, Knight Skywalker. Of course I started there, and only went farther afield when I ran out of erotic poetry."
Anakin laughs, and Obi-Wan laughs with him, though it wasn't entirely a joke. Obi-Wan learned the basics about rectal penetration in the introduction to puberty and sexuality courses he was given in his youth. Anakin had been taught the same curriculum, give or take a few revisions. Apart from the spare, clinical descriptions of what might be pleasurable and what to avoid, Obi-Wan had not known why anyone would want to pursue a partner when sex alone sufficed and was far less trouble.
The erotic poetry had clarified the matter for him far more effectively than the holos of people having sex because the poetry elucidated matters of the heart, whereas the holos were simple iterations of the physicality, so far as Obi-Wan could tell, even when the participants said sweet things to each other.
"Do you want to recite poetry to me, Master?" Anakin asked.
"Desperately."
Anakin asks, "Can I taste you again while you do?" and Obi-Wan shudders.
"I rather think that would affect the delivery. But if it pleases you, Knight Skywalker, then who am I to argue?"
Anakin says, "Lie on the bed, please, Master Kenobi. It'll be easier that way."
So this is something Anakin has done with some nameless man, perhaps in his time on Naboo. That explains why he knows what he's doing. Though — once Obi-Wan is situated, and Anakin is kneeling next to him — Anakin promptly takes so much of Obi-Wan's cock in his mouth that he gags and has to back off.
"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asks in a rush.
"I'm fine," Anakin says, though his voice is rough with coughing. "I know, I know — I'll be more careful. I just thought — well, holos lie."
"So do poets," Obi-Wan says.
"Tell me," Anakin says, and wraps his warm hand around Obi-Wan's erection, taking the head into his mouth.
Obi-Wan wishes he were as articulate in his desire as Anakin is. If he could ask for all the things he's dreamed, they would be in bed for a week, a week ill-spared from the rush to war, a week they richly deserve for their mutual elevation, however it will cleave them from each other.
He quotes instead of saying, "Let me fuck you," instead of saying, "Please fuck me." The poem comes stumbling from his lips: "'Name a thing alive that does not thirst.'" He gasps when Anakin speeds up. "'I want to praise it.'"
"I'm thirsty," Anakin says, but as soon as Obi-Wan can marshal his wits to respond with something other than more of the poem, Anakin is licking him again, and originality dissolves.
Obi-Wan manages to haul his thoughts back to poetry. "'Bring me any beast, I'll open his mouth & march right in.'" He bites his lip. "'I'm not scared of his teeth —" he has to fight to keep his voice steady, and loses " — his poison, his fire, or even his belly.'"
He realizes as he hears it that he's implicitly calling Anakin a beast he does not fear, and that, in its way, is true. Anakin hums around him and Obi-Wan gasps, then manages the rest of the poem, the part that really makes him think of Anakin. "I'm going to look at what I can't imagine —" One last line, and he's shuddering in the heat of Anakin's mouth. "'— to see what inside him says eat.'"
Anakin keeps going a few licks longer until he realizes that Obi-Wan is at the end of the poem. "I thought it would be dirtier," he says, licking his lips. Obi-Wan stares at his tongue for a long moment before he recollects himself.
"It's about desire, not sex. About —" Anakin teases him with his fingers, and Obi-Wan falters. "About wanting without fear."
"Of course you're not afraid, Master Kenobi." Anakin spits in his palm and strokes Obi-Wan's erection with his damp hand.
"I have much better lubricant than this," Obi-Wan says, though the thought of Anakin's mouth and his lips, shiny with saliva, will indubitably invade his dreams for the rest of his life.
"What does it taste like?" Anakin asks.
"A bit sweet, a bit salty. Nothing too chemical." Obi-Wan can't reach the drawer from where he's lying without dislodging Anakin's hand, and he's loath to do that. He uses the Force, which makes Anakin suck in his breath.
"Why, Master Kenobi," he says, with false astonishment, "did you just engage in a frivolous use of the Force?"
Obi-Wan puts the tube of lubricant, three-quarters gone, in Anakin's gloved mechnohand. "Deeming such a thing frivolous ignores the urgency of the situation." He watches while Anakin puts a generous glob on his flesh fingers, then shivers when Anakin grasps him firmly again "Give me some, please."
"Catch," Anakin says, and launches the tube high into the air with the Force, where it hovers.
"Wretch."
Anakin laughs, and keeps laughing well after Obi-Wan has used the Force to bring the tube back to bed height. "More poetry," he says, giggling and gasping.
"Rhyming does not immediately create poetry. It —" Anakin's thumb rests just below the head of Obi-Wan's cock, teasing him, and he can't slick his own fingers and lecture simultaneously while that's going on. He focuses on measuring the lubricant so that he can touch Anakin's erection in turn, then picks up where he left off. "It requires emotion."
"Calling me 'wretch' is quite emotional for you," Anakin says, and starts snickering all over again.
"Scansion." Obi-Wan loves the way Anakin feels in his hand, but he has a lecture to deliver if he's going to be properly Master Kenobi for Anakin.
"'Catch,' 'wretch.' Same number of syllables," Anakin says.
"Intent."
Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan's neck. "You don't want to write poetry about me?"
Obi-Wan has only ever written it in his mind, never where anyone could monitor him, or worse, find hard copy. "Not — nn — just now." He tries a different twist of the wrist, and Anakin gasps.
"Okay, if you're sure," he says, when he's recovered enough to speak.
"Kiss me again," Obi-Wan says. That much, he can ask for without dying of embarrassment.
Anakin matches the rhythm he's set on Obi-Wan's erection with his tongue. Obi-Wan falls into Anakin's pace, hand, wrist, and mouth, and feels Anakin's presence embrace him.
Then Anakin speeds up, and the twist of his hand is perfect. Obi-Wan takes the cue and matches his speed. Anakin grunts as if this surprises him and thrusts into Obi-Wan's hand.
Obi-Wan breaks off the kiss, aware that he can't have everything, and that he wants more than this, delightful though it is. "I —" he says, and loses his nerve.
Anakin blinks at him and stills his hand. "Everything all right?"
Obi-Wan sits up, despite the warm press of Anakin's Force presence, and moves down the bed, ignoring his own erection. "Just following your example, Knight Skywalker."
"Oh — fuck — please." Anakin shudders at the first touch of Obi-Wan's mouth. The lubricant is inoffensive, and his erection is doubly damp at the tip.
He does not taste appreciably different than Obi-Wan's own secretions, but the knowledge that this is Anakin, the weight of him on Obi-Wan's tongue, and the way he takes a shuddering breath are all instantaneously addictive. He's an addiction Obi-Wan can ill afford, and yet one he will gratify to its fullest extent tonight.
With one hand on the base of Anakin's erection and the other bracing himself against the bed, Obi-Wan teases Anakin, using his tongue, and, because he remembers friends' complaints about various unskilled partners, avoiding making any contact with his teeth. Anakin arches off the bed. "Fuck, Master," he says, and Obi-Wan would love to tell him, "Yes, anytime," but he doesn't want to push Anakin's boundaries in this regard.
It is enough that he is pushing his own boundaries beyond the breaking point.
Anakin's thrusting speeds up, and it is all Obi-Wan can do to keep up with him without letting Anakin choke him by mistake. The salt-tang precome in his mouth, the difficulty of coordinating his tongue and lips, the nascent ache in his jaw — he loves all of it, because it is for Anakin.
"I — fuck, I need to come," Anakin says, his voice low and hoarse. "Can I — do you — are you going to stop?"
Obi-Wan hums around him and tells his jaw to stay loose. He's half in the moment, half watching and feeling and living it through the Force, aware of Anakin's desperate clinging with his presence and the way he's wound around and through Obi-Wan, above and beyond the entanglement of their bodies. Anakin's energy crackles through him as fiercely as ever, and then he is held still with a push on his shoulders — not held down, but just in place — for two, three, four thrusts. Anakin comes in his mouth, and Obi-Wan wills himself not to cough.
He has done well, then; Anakin is stroking his hair, and the pressure around his shoulders is gone. "Sorry," Anakin says, as if he has done anything wrong.
Obi-Wan lets him go and wipes his mouth with his hand. He is not going to shave, especially as this will not happen again. His beard will be fragrant until he showers. He allows himself to entertain the fantasy of going about the Temple with Anakin's scent caught in his mustache. "It's fine," he says, and the most altruistic part of his heart bids him add, "I would recommend not using the Force to hold any Force-null partners you may have, though."
Anakin splutters. "I would never," he says, fervently enough that Obi-Wan is certain that whomever Anakin has had sex with before, they have not been fellow Jedi. "I knew you could stop me if you needed to."
Obi-Wan knows it as well as Anakin does. Strength versus strength, Anakin wins every time, but Obi-Wan has finesse on his side. "And perhaps be gentle with most Jedi. Your presence can be overwhelming."
"It won't be a problem," Anakin says with iron-clad conviction.
"Not everyone is me."
"And that's why I won't want them."
Obi-Wan decides to let the point go. He has delivered his advice, not as master to padawan, but as master to knight, and that means taking Anakin's word for it. Everyone is entitled to change their minds about their sexual behavior; Obi-Wan knows that in this moment as immediately and intimately as anyone could. If Anakin grows enamored of a Jedi in a month, a year, or a decade, Obi-Wan won't bring this conversation up.
He will still have been Anakin's master, however much time has passed, and they will still have had this night together.
Anakin sighs gustily.
"Yes?" Obi-Wan asks, trying to remember that Anakin is nineteen even while they fall into patterns that remind him of much earlier days.
"May I try something with you?" Anakin asks, sitting up on his elbows.
"We've been trying things for some time now. What did you have in mind?"
Anakin flushes. "May I put my tongue inside you?"
The first possibility that occurs to Obi-Wan is that Anakin is asking to kiss him again, but that's ridiculous. The second makes his face and ears heat. "I'd need a shower first, if you're asking what I think you are."
"It sounds like fun," Anakin says. "Don't you think?"
Obi-Wan has only today's experience to draw from, but considering the revelation that was Anakin's mouth on his ears, to say nothing of his cock, he is open to the possibility. "I'll be right back," he says, and leans in, meaning to kiss Anakin's cheek.
Anakin sits all the way up and kisses him hungrily instead, groaning into Obi-Wan's mouth. When he breaks off, he says, "You taste like me," then kisses Obi-Wan again, running his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair.
Anakin has never given any evidence of being a supertaster, so Obi-Wan suspects he is eroticizing the experience as much as the taste itself. It hardly matters, as he is happy to kiss Anakin until every last trace of salt is gone from his mouth.
At length, Anakin lets him go. "Okay, Master Kenobi, go shower."
Obi-Wan feels unworthy of the title, his heart pounding in his ears, his erection renewed by Anakin's mouth — the feel of it and the filthy promise of it, both. He tousles Anakin's hair, reflects that while he mourns the padawan braid, the rest of the haircut is only bearable because it is familiar, and says, "I'll be back in a moment, Knight Skywalker."
"I know, or I'd go with you." There is something in Anakin's eyes that Obi-Wan can't bring himself to decipher. The physically palpable Force presence has receded, but he is still reaching, reaching, reaching, as if he knows Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to give him what he wants.
Obi-Wan is a Jedi Master, and Jedi Masters can turn their backs on their sex partners if they have the end goal of having more sex. Obi-Wan proves it, and Anakin's Force presence caresses his back, lingering on his ass like warm hands, if Anakin weren't two meters away. And if he still had two warm hands.
Obi-Wan tears himself away and takes an efficient shower, reminding himself every time he is aware of the passage of irretrievable time that this is serving a purpose.
Anakin meets him at the door to his bedroom with, "Welcome back, Master Kenobi."
It stings and makes his heart leap, the same way it has every time Anakin has said it. "Shall we, Knight Skywalker?" Obi-Wan asks, and there is the same thrill of pride and loss. If he says it enough times, he will become accustomed to it, surely.
Anakin pulls him bodily to the bed. "Lie back," he says, and Obi-Wan has far better things to do than argue about positioning.
He draws on the Force again because he wants to feel every moment of it, though there is something profoundly ludicrous in having his knees folded to his chest, though he can only begin to know what to expect, though the glint in Anakin's eye is almost, almost warning enough.
At the first wet-hot-perfect push of his tongue, Obi-Wan covers his mouth, belatedly, his ragged gasp echoing in the room.
And it makes Anakin stop, which is far more perverse than his having begun. "I want to hear you, Master," he says, and presses a kiss to the underside of Obi-Wan's thigh.
That very nearly makes Obi-Wan want to be heard; the next brush of Anakin's tongue makes it inevitable. He can't stop himself from making a noise he refuses to characterize, and then another when Anakin's tongue goes deeper. If what Anakin wants is to play his body like an instrument designed to make lewd noises, then he's succeeding admirably. Every little push makes Obi-Wan want more.
Anakin hums — moans, perhaps — and wraps his flesh hand around Obi-Wan's renewed erection. Obi-Wan says, "Please," before he's consciously formed the word.
"Mm?" Anakin asks, without stopping.
"I —" Obi-Wan tries to put sounds together in Basic and huffs, groans, in frustration. "That's — splendid." No other word would suffice.
Anakin hums again, sounding gratified.
Obi-Wan finds another crucial syllable. "But."
Anakin looks up with a wet noise. Tragically, he lets go of Obi-Wan's erection. "What's wrong?"
"Are you willing to try penetrating me?" Obi-Wan asks. His voice doesn't sound entirely his own, and that makes it a little easier to proposition Anakin.
"Oh." Anakin rests his cheek against Obi-Wan's thigh, which is oddly reassuring. "Are you sure?"
"I've enjoyed penetration in the past."
Anakin sits up, frowning, his Force presence reaching out for Obi-Wan and holding him like a hug made of electricity. "With who?"
"Myself."
"Right." Anakin shakes his head. "I'd love to try it."
"Perhaps — a bit more, with your tongue, first."
"Sure." Anakin dives in with renewed vigor and Obi-Wan moans, rocking into the touch.
He knows this can't last, not the sex act, not the evening, not the dalliance, but right now it is the sweetest, hottest thing he has ever experienced, and Anakin's Force presence is helping him hold his legs up, giving him something sympathetic to push against.
Obi-Wan bears it as long as he can, until he feels that any more will send him over the edge into orgasm, even without Anakin's hand on his cock. "Enough," he says, when he can manage it.
Anakin places one more kiss on the wet skin he's been licking and sits back, letting Obi-Wan stretch his legs. He crooks one finger and brings the lubricant to his hand. "Okay, tell me what you need me to do — Master."
Every wicked thread of Obi-Wan's being yearns to call him "Padawan," but he doesn't allow it. Instead, he says, "Gladly, Knight Skywalker," the knight he will lose, but whom he will have had. "Saliva dries more quickly than lubricant, so slick your fingers, and —" he shifts on the bed, examining the state of his muscles. "Start with two."
Anakin's eyebrows go up. "Oh. You really like penetration, huh?"
Heat floods through Obi-Wan at the thought of showing Anakin all the possibilities and joys of his carefully-curated, if frugal, collection of toys, but that's wishful thinking. In the first place, they will run out of night eventually, and in the second, it's Anakin's decision what goes into his own body.
Rather than suggesting something that he's afraid Anakin will reject out of hand, Obi-Wan settles for saying, "Yes," and situating himself with his legs spread to facilitate the situation.
Anakin puts lubricant on his fingers, then hesitates before he penetrates Obi-Wan. "Two?"
"In your own time, Knight Skywalker," Obi-Wan says, because he needs to remember that he will have to learn how to live without Anakin's constant presence. He has all the heat, brilliance, and gravity of a star in Obi-Wan's perception, and now the floodgates of desire are opened as well.
The only way to be safe from Anakin, knowing how he looks when he orgasms, knowing the feel of the inside of his mouth and the thrust of his tongue, is to be assigned to missions safely on the other side of the galaxy from wherever he's going next.
The push of Anakin's fingers, slow and steady, makes Obi-Wan aware of just how desperately he wants Anakin to stay exactly where he is and do exactly what he's doing, from now until the heat death of the universe. It's a different angle than Obi-Wan is expecting, and he shifts to reorient until it's more comfortable. Anakin holds still while he adjusts. "Like that?" he asks, when Obi-Wan sinks a little farther onto his fingers.
He looks like Obi-Wan has given him something priceless and delicious, which is flattering, and probably not far off what Obi-Wan probably looks like, seeing Anakin like this. Obi-Wan opens himself to the Force, where Anakin is blindingly bright, and feels Anakin holding him. "Like that," Obi-Wan says, when he realizes he hasn't answered the question. "Out, then in a bit deeper —" Anakin's fingers brush his prostate and he loses all pretense at words to a breathless, "Ah!"
Anakin grins at him as though he's just introduced Obi-Wan to the sensation. "Your shields slipped, Master," he says, with smugness rather than warning.
Obi-Wan remembers in a heartstopping moment, even while Anakin's fingers send ripples of pleasure through him, that tonight is the traditional night for dissolution of the training bond, which is the reason Anakin can sense him even while his shields are strong enough to protect him against any other Force-sensitive entity.
It can wait. Anakin knows such bonds rarely last past knighting, too; if he brings up the need, Obi-Wan will, of course, enact the perfect Jedi Master for him. But until then, he will tacitly forget, so that he can keep a little of Anakin with him, even if they are dispatched in opposite directions tomorrow.
A strong bond can be an asset in aggressive negotiations, as well. Perhaps Obi-Wan could, even within his assigned role of perfect lack of self-interest, advocate for retaining it.
Perhaps.
Perhaps Anakin is frowning at him and pulling his fingers out. "What did I say?" he asks.
Perhaps Obi-Wan will have to advocate sooner rather than later, lest they waste precious time. "You made me remember two equally important things — that it is the tradition to dissolve training bonds upon knighting —" the storm on Anakin's face and the sharp violence of his presence as if he can defend against the words make Obi-Wan falter before he goes on. "And, significantly, we are at war, and every advantage could save lives."
That makes Anakin's expression clear, and his presence is less threatening but no less overwhelming, as if the sun has come out from behind clouds on a frigid planet, turning the landscape from the threat of infinite snow to the dazzling reflectivity of ice.
It is just as well that Anakin has not had liaisons with other Jedi; they would not be so used to him as Obi-Wan is.
Anakin says with mock solemnity and dancing eyes, "It's our duty as Jedi to consider the public interest and the common good, Master Kenobi."
"Too true, Knight Skywalker," is all Obi-Wan can manage before he sees Anakin's mouth twitch, and then they're laughing.
Anakin's presence is palpably warm one moment, and then it is shot through with concern, and then he has shielded. "I wish," he says, and now there is no teasing quality to his calm, "I wish we could've done this before now."
Obi-Wan sits up and embraces him because he can, this once, in this time and this place. "I believe that sentiment is why it's not permitted."
Anakin sighs. "Everything's going to be so complicated." At that, his shields drop a bit, and the heat comes back.
And Obi-Wan is still aroused, still hyperaware of his body, of every square centimeter of skin pressed against Anakin, but he will never not be aware of Anakin, and so he can say, "You can always comm me if you need help," with his whole heart.
Anakin takes a quick, shallow breath, which is when Obi-Wan realizes he's trying not to cry. Obi-Wan focuses on wrapping his Force presence around Anakin, warm and careful.
Anakin hiccups and buries his face in Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Oh, hell," he says, muffled.
Obi-Wan asks, "What did I say that was wrong?"
Anakin looks up abruptly, eyelashes wet and sticking together, and says, "Nothing," before he kisses Obi-Wan with all the fervor Obi-Wan has come to expect of Anakin's expressions of desire.
It clarifies nothing, but it's a pleasant interlude nevertheless. Obi-Wan catches Anakin's wrist in his hand and breaks off the kiss to say, "If nothing is wrong, then surely you can't be crying."
Anakin huffs as if that will dry up the evidence. "I'll miss you," he says. "I know, I'm a knight, I have to get used to being by myself on missions, but it's going to be hard."
"It won't be easy for me, either," Obi-Wan admits. "Perhaps that is one of the things we can commiserate about."
Anakin's mouth twists. "Okay. So you'll answer my comms?"
Obi-Wan knows enough Jedi Masters to know that the problem generally lies with former padawans being too busy to make time for their erstwhile instructors. "At the earliest possible convenience."
Anakin blows out his breath. "Thank you, Master," he says, and the title is soft.
"You're welcome, Padawan," Obi-Wan answers automatically. Then he realizes what he's said. "Knight Skywalker," he corrects himself.
"I'll always be your padawan, too," Anakin says, and something eases in Obi-Wan's chest.
"That doesn't make it a respectful term of address." Obi-Wan touches his cheek, brushing away wetness. "Are you quite all right?"
"Sure, as long as I've still got you." Anakin frowns. "No one's going to make you take a new padawan any time soon, right?"
"The Force has not pushed me in that direction, and —" Obi-Wan sighs, pushing away a plethora of memories. "War is no place for a padawan."
"No," Anakin agrees. He strokes Obi-Wan's hair. "Well. We were kind of in the middle of something, a minute ago."
"We were." Obi-Wan studies his face. "We can stop," he offers, though he desperately hopes Anakin will disagree.
"Do you want to stop?"
He feels the flicker of Anakin's awareness plucking at him, looking for sincerity, even before he speaks. "Not on my own account, no."
"Then don't stop on mine." Anakin kisses him again.
Obi-Wan wonders how many repetitions of the joy of kissing Anakin it would take before it felt mundane. He would volunteer for that experiment.
Anakin's fingers are still slick when he puts them between Obi-Wan's legs again. "More?" he asks.
"Please."
It's easier this time because they have a decade's experience learning to move together, and they don't need to repeat mistakes to learn from them. It's harder, too, because Anakin is just as close and watching just as avidly, but Obi-Wan is more aware of how emotionally fragile they both are.
Fortunately, his body is resilient, and rises to the occasion admirably. Before long, Obi-Wan suggests, "Another finger."
Anakin's focus intensifies, if such a thing is even possible, and the stretch makes Obi-Wan sigh. He lets his eyes close so he is slightly less aware that Anakin is memorizing every moment, in much the same way he is. And he has made Anakin cry, on this night that he will remember, as many times as he has made him come.
That balance, at least, can be rectified.
Obi-Wan opens his eyes, because if the answer to his question is, "No," then he deserves to see Anakin's expression, and asks, "Would you like to — to fuck me?"
"Yes," Anakin says, and there is hunger in his grin. "So much."
Obi-Wan considers the different ways he has deployed toys and the best way to use his experience. "Lie back and I'll straddle you."
"Yes, Master." There's no tease in that title, only lust, and Obi-Wan relaxes even as Anakin positions himself.
"Let me get situated before you start your kata, Knight Skywalker."
Anakin laughs. "Sure."
Anakin's erection is the same general shape and size as one of Obi-Wan's toys — slightly larger than average for a Human male, but nothing so drastic as to be remarked upon — but it twitches in Obi-Wan's hand while he gets lined up, and he can feel Anakin's gaze and presence all around him.
This is not very like pleasuring himself alone, for all the physical sensation is familiar as Anakin slides into him slowly. Obi-Wan's heart is racing over all the thousand differences.
Not least of which is that Anakin's hand is on Obi-Wan's erection when it flags slightly — a usual consequence of penetration for him. "All right, Master?" he asks.
"More than all right," Obi-Wan assures him, with another, deeper thrust that makes Anakin groan.
"You feel amazing," Anakin says. "Tell me when I can move." He's shivering with effort.
Obi-Wan lets himself think, deep in the private shielding of his soul, that he loves Anakin more than can possibly be good for either of them.
And then he locks the thought away.
"Go ahead," Obi-Wan says.
Anakin surges under him like the sea, squeezing Obi-Wan's erection, pushing up into him and holding him in a Force presence so warm Obi-Wan can feel his body relaxing like he's sinking into a hot spring, even while desire rushes through him. Anakin makes a strangled noise. "I — fuck," he says, though it's been all of ten seconds, and he'd been far more patient with Obi-Wan's experience earlier. "Just —" He shakes his head. At some point, his hair has come out of its binding and started to curl. "Fuck," he says again.
"In the good sense, I hope?" Obi-Wan asks when he can get enough breath for a sentence.
"So good." Anakin arches off the bed, and Obi-Wan moves with him. It's no louder than sex alone, but it seems louder, and Anakin's hungry noises are a ragged counterpoint to the sounds of their bodies coming together and parting.
Obi-Wan puts his hands on Anakin's chest, which is when he remembers that some people enjoy having their nipples teased. It doesn't generally enhance his own experience enough to bother with, so he'd forgotten.
Just one more way that the encounter could have been better.
"May I — ah — play with your nipples?" Obi-Wan asks.
"Yes." Anakin's answer is fervent, so clearly Obi-Wan has been letting him down thus far.
He tries to make up for lost time, though he doesn't know, in the midst of penetrative intercourse, which expressions and sounds are due to his fingers on Anakin's chest, and which are due to the fact that they are fucking with enthusiasm.
Anakin puts his free hand — the newly-replaced one in its glove — on Obi-Wan's hip and pulls him down faster. Obi-Wan goes with the movement, though he won't be able to maintain the speed indefinitely — the rub of Anakin's cock against his prostate is destroying his higher thought processes.
If he is going to be a body making love with another body, at least he is with a familiar body, if from an unfamiliar angle.
Anakin says, "Obi-Wan," in an urgent voice. "I need, I can't —"
Whatever Anakin is striving for that he feels he can't do, it doesn't matter right now. "This is more than enough," Obi-Wan assures him.
Anakin's hips stutter to a stop, and there is wetter heat between them as he comes, his Force presence clinging to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, nearly to the edge of orgasm, covers Anakin's hand on his cock with his own and gives himself slightly more familiar friction for the few seconds it takes him to orgasm. It rolls through him delightfully and leaves him propped upright solely due to Anakin's Force presence.
Anakin frees his sticky hand. "So you like penetration a lot," he says, grinning at Obi-Wan.
"At least as much as you enjoyed providing the stimulus," Obi-Wan agrees.
"I'll have to try it sometime." Anakin's voice is light, but the emotion has leached out of his presence, and without that warmth, Obi-Wan feels cold. Anakin is physically holding Obi-Wan up without any sentiment leaking through his shields. He rarely shields so thoroughly, which is why it's jarring.
Perhaps he is thinking of someone else and doesn't want to discuss them with Obi-Wan. That's certainly his prerogative.
It also makes it seem as though their interlude is definitively over. It had to happen sooner or later — though Obi-Wan was hoping for dawn at the earliest — and he may not, will not, cannot betray his disappointment. Jedi Masters do not sulk after an evening of orgasms, simply because they might have liked yet more.
Obi-Wan kneels up, which is messy, and uses one of the wipes he keeps on the bedside table for this sort of purpose to start dealing with the semen and lubricant. "On that subject, I may be less inclined to be forthcoming over comms."
Anakin laughs. "What, you, not wanting to talk about sex? I had no idea."
Obi-Wan gives him a wipe, and he starts cleaning himself off. "It's good to know I can still surprise you, Knight Skywalker."
"Every day," Anakin says fervently. "But especially today. Not the knighting, but the rest of it."
Obi-Wan stands up when his knees will bear his weight. "Do you regret it?" he asks, unsure of what to do if the answer is, "Yes."
"Not at all." He can hear the conviction in Anakin's voice, but somehow it rings hollow without his emotion behind it, and there is a false note in the Force.
He does regret it, then, or something about it.
Obi-Wan turns away to hide his wince so that he does not betray what he knows. They can't undo what they've done, and Anakin had no complaints in the moment.
Except when he'd cried.
Obi-Wan focuses on the Force, which is there for him even if he is a truly atrocious, lust-addled Jedi Master who has transgressed against Anakin, and which will be there for him despite how terrible of a lover he patently is.
He need not bother anyone else with his ineptitude, then.
He can't bring himself to lie to Anakin that he doesn't regret their intercourse, either. The physical parts were lovely; the emotional parts, as with so many things involving Anakin, were where the real tripping hazards lay, and so far as he could tell, Obi-Wan had stumbled across every single one.
He says, "Thank you," instead, and picks up Anakin's clothes to hand to him when he gets off the bed.
"Thank you. It was a lot of fun," Anakin says brightly, and it rings true. Obi-Wan will have to content his wounded ego with that much.
"Congratulations again, Knight Skywalker," he says, and bows formally, for all he's naked.
Anakin bows back over the pile of clothing. "And to you, Master Kenobi. Good night."
"Rest well," Obi-Wan says, and waits until the door has closed to say, "And may the Force be with you, my dear knight," because he knows that it is with Anakin ever more strongly than it is with him. Anakin doesn't need his blessing to excel.