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Arms bound behind his back, Anakin’s muscles strain against the restraints, twitching in a mix of anticipation and defiance. He fights to keep his expression neutral but there is a slight traitorous grin tugging at his lips. The Force hums between him and his captor in a jagged electric current as he waits for the blindfold to drop. The Sith Lord in the room preferred to look into his eyes when he took him.
Anakin feels like a gift being unwrapped as the blindfold loosens and slides away. The heavy bite of shackles around his wrists and waist tells him exactly what kind of gift he was. The kind to be used, wrung dry, and then discarded. Anakin feels his cock filled with blood, aching for the firm grip of its new master. The heavy pull of the shackles on his skin is a constant, physical reminder of the power Obi-Wan holds over his Light.
“What am I going to do with you, Anakin?” Obi-Wan purrs, his voice reverberating through the room like a dark caress.
With his blindfold removed, Anakin can admire the restraints around him. They are a masterpiece of Sith alchemy, black with crimson runes etched across the cold leather. The band around his waist keeps him firmly sat on the wooden chair, and it bites into his naked skin, providing a rush of delirious arousal to his head.
Anakin looks like a displayed object. A throne of sorts, made of flesh and blood. His cock strains in the air and leaks fluid from the head. He wishes that Obi-Wan would make use of him already. He thinks in his head Please.
Anakin knows Obi-Wan doesn’t need telepathy to know the truth of what Anakin wants. The raw surge of arousal from being subjected to restraints has clouded Anakin’s focus, and he knows that his Jedi calm has been eroded into breathless shards of want and need.
“Do you like being my plaything?” Obi-Wan’s voice is like silk, smooth and commanding, and one of his hands brushes against Anakin’s thigh.
For a moment, Anakin can’t do anything but admire him. Obi-Wan’s golden eyes sparkle with a hidden mirth and he leans over Anakin’s body to breathe closely against his ear.
“I said, do you like it, my captured star?”
Anakin’s eyes flutter closed and he quickly stutters, “Yes. Yes, I like it, Obi-Wan.” He doesn’t want to disappoint him. “I like being your plaything. I like being your toy.”
Obi-Wan’s lips brush against Anakin’s ear lobe as he quietly chuckles. "Hmm." The hand on his thigh moves upwards and gently drags across the shaft of his penis. Anakin opens his thighs as much as the restraints allow, breath hitching in his throat.
“When will you stop following me around the galaxy like a shadow?” Obi-Wan speaks with a fluid strength, the teasing cadence of his voice at odds with his firm, authoritative presence. His thumb rubs across the tip of Anakin’s cock rubbing his pre-cum over the flushed pink head.
“The more you stalk me,” Obi-Wan says, “The more I think you crave to be my sweet little acolyte. Is that what you want, Chosen One? To belong to me?”
Anakin’s composure was melting away as the Dark Side radiated off of Obi-Wan in waves of intoxicating heat. The physical weight of the restraints and the velvet pull of Obi-Wan’s smooth palm over his cock tempt him, and not for the first time.
Anakin thinks about the rigid discipline of the Order, how cold and hollow it felt, compared to the terrifying, thrilling rush of being Obi-Wan’s chosen focus. Obi-Wan pumps Anakin’s cock with his hand and kisses across his cheek to the corner of his mouth.
To become Obi-Wan’s acolyte would mean trading the loneliness of being a peacekeeper for the sharp, exquisite purpose of being his. The promise of finally belonging to someone was more tempting than the power itself. Obi-Wan kisses Anakin lightly and Anakin moans into it, straining against his restraints.
“Good boy,” Obi-Wan whispers.
He steps back from Anakin to slowly begin undressing himself. With a slow, predatory grace, Obi-Wan begins to divest himself of his regalia. The heavy, dark outer robes slide from his shoulders with a soft hiss, and it pools around his feet like spilled ink. He moves with unashamed confidence, zero qualms about being naked in front of his toy.
Anakin stops trying to deny his own hunger. Bound and helpless to do anything else, Anakin watches Obi-Wan undress with burning focus. Obi-Wan takes his time unfastening his armor and the silk beneath it, stepping out of his boots and brushing his hair back from his face. It is an exercise in exquisite torture.
Without his clothes, Obi-Wan is no longer a threat but a vision of raw power. When he finally stands before Anakin again, unburdened and unashamed, the visual of his freedom against Anakin’s captivity makes Anakin feel worshipful.
Sat down on the chair, Anakin comes face to face with Obi-Wan’s nudity, and he grits his teeth as he sees the shiny glint of wet fluids between Obi-Wan’s lower lips.
Obi-Wan straddles him in the chair, and the feel of his strong, bare thighs on Anakin’s is maddening. Anakin cock sticks up, all eight hard inches of it, right between their bodies. Obi-Wan chuckles as it brushes against his stomach, leaving a smear of pre-cum.
“My little possession wants to be trained, doesn't he?” Obi-Wan entices him. Anakin’s stomach feels like it is filled with roiling lava. “What’s happening to your body is what the Force wants. All it asks of you is that you be honest about what you want. What do you want, Anakin?”
Anakin’s face screws up in desire and devotion. Obi-Wan’s fingers card through his hair, and he moves forward on Anakin’s lap until their privates kiss together, wet warmth against solid length. Anakin breathes raggedly. The chair makes a squeaking sound against the floor. Anakin has never wanted something as much as he wants this now.
“Do you want to be inside me?” Obi-Wan asks, deceptively sweet.
Anakin doesn’t respond fast enough. Obi-Wan waits a moment before slapping him, grabbing his chin, and forcing him to meet his golden eyes. Anakin’s mind is fogged over from pleasure.
“Didn’t you hear me? I asked you a question, you stupid boy. Do you want to be inside me?”
Anakin’s cheek stings as he nods without breaking eye contact. “Yes… yes…”
Obi-Wan grinds his hips forward, rubbing himself against the surface of Anakin’s erection. “Say, yes Master,” he tells him. “Say, I want to be inside your cunt, Master. Say you’ll give up anything for it.”
Anakin can barely breathe. Obi-Wan’s eyes scorch into his being, burning down into his soul. “I want inside your cunt, Master. I won’t stop following you. I’ll always chase you. I’ll do anything, to anyone for you. I’m your toy.”
“You’re my toy?” Obi-Wan asks.
“Augh, yes, I’m your toy.”
Obi-Wan sets one hand on Anakin’s shoulder and uses his free hand to slide Anakin’s cock against his warm folds. Anakin’s muscles strain as he thinks about getting his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and pulling him down on his cock.
Obi-Wan slaps Anakin’s cock against his clit, closing his golden eyes with a deep pleasurable hiss. Anakin watches in rapture as his body and cock was used like the toy it was.
“Please, Master, I want to be inside you. Please.”
Obi-Wan grips the back of Anakin’s hair, pulling, as he lines him up. Anakin stares right back into his eyes as Obi-Wan sinks down onto his cock, taking him into his magnificent body. Obi-Wan almost looks like he’s smirking—slack jawed and dominant, as Anakin’s cock slides inside. Anakin practically sobs as the warm, wet heat he’d been craving so long enveloped him.
Obi-Wan rides on top of his lap in steady thrusts, fucking up and down in a rhythm that sought his own pleasure above Anakin’s. Anakin doesn’t care. He was here to be used. He wanted to be Obi-Wan’s toy. A stationary tool for his masturbation. Anakin groans as Obi-Wan fucks himself on him.
“That’s right, be my good little acolyte,” Obi-Wan huffs as his thrusts sped up.
Anakin feels Obi-Wan’s fluids leaking around his shaft. Obi-Wan rides cock like he was trained to do it—alternating between pumping up and down and swirling his hips in a circle to grind Anakin’s cock against his walls. Obi-Wan pulls Anakin's hair and forces him to look up before talking dirty to him, telling him that he was an object, telling him he was destined to fall.
The heavy, rhythmic squeezes around Anakin's cock anchor him to the present, to the physical, to Obi-Wan. His pace quickens and moans slip from Anakin’s mouth unbidden. He wants to be a good boy. He wants Obi-Wan to cum on his cock. He feels his balls lifting against his body preparing to release.
Although Anakin is the one penetrating Obi-Wan, he can feel Obi-Wan breaching into his soul. His desire, hidden for so long, is pulled mercilessly from him with every steady grind of Obi-Wan’s hips. Anakin’s sweat slicks down his body and he wishes there was a way to bottle this moment, during all the times when he feels hateful for everything the Order has come to represent.
Flashes of dark, impossible events color his open eyes—visions or nightmares, he doesn’t know. The obscene wet slapping sounds of their bodies fill the room as Obi-Wan rides him with complete authority and dominance. Obi-Wan’s fingernails claw into the muscles of Anakin’s shoulders and in a sudden crescendo, he comes, screaming, sounding more like victory than release.
Anakin feels like every nerve in his body has been set on fire. He whimpers and writhes beneath Obi-Wan’s clenching cunt, and when their eyes meet, Anakin throws his head back and yells as he comes inside him.
He doesn’t think about right and wrong. He comes as hard as he has in his life, mumbling mastermastermaster. Obi-Wan doesn’t slow down even as he feels Anakin shooting inside him. “That’s it,” he says, “Give me what’s mine.”
Anakin melts into the chair in his restraints as Obi-Wan squeezes every last drop out of him. When the waves stop wracking his body, Anakin can feel Obi-Wan’s mouth against his ear.
“One of these times, I’m not going to let you leave.” Obi-Wan’s words are low, a promise.
Anakin prays he's telling him the truth.