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The pounding of Anakin’s boots against the marble flooring echoed starkly in the quiet hallways as he dashed through the Temple, absolutely frenetic with energy. Even when a group of younglings giggled at Anakin as he rushed past, he hardly spared a second thought to the attention he was drawing towards himself with his less-than-Knightly behavior. His mind was occupied by one thing only.
Seeing Obi-Wan again.
Thoughts of him had not left Anakin’s mind since they had parted ways before their respective missions. In fact, Anakin had been downright haunted by the memory of Obi-Wan’s departure replaying over and over like a broken holovid.
It had happened in the blink of an eye. One moment, Anakin had been voicing his frustrations to Obi-Wan about why it would have made more sense for Anakin to be assigned to the mission with him. How was Anakin to provide back-up if Obi-Wan needed him while he was halfway across the galaxy? The Council’s decision hadn’t made much strategic sense to him at all, but there were so few Jedi and so many systems that needed their help.
And the next moment, there had been a soft press of lips against Anakin’s own, effectively bringing all of his thoughts to a screeching halt. It was over so quickly, Anakin hadn’t even the chance to think about reciprocating before Obi-Wan was patting his shoulder, bidding him farewell with an assurance all would be fine as he waltzed off to his awaiting warship, acting as though he hadn’t just turned Anakin’s entire world on its head.
In the half a year or so since Anakin’s knighting, they had served on enough missions together that their partnership and teamwork had been solidified in a way it never had been during Anakin’s apprenticeship. Through those trials, it truly felt as though Anakin had become Obi-Wan’s equal finally—something he had begun to yearn for desperately.
He couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment it had happened, but there had come a point in their relationship when Anakin’s love for his Master had exceeded his capability to contain it within words. The shift had felt natural for Anakin, like setting down a path that had been ordained by the Force itself. But for some time now, he had believed himself to be on that journey alone, seeking unexplored heights he could only wish Obi-Wan would join him on.
He had no doubts about where Obi-Wan fit into his own life, but he had no answers as to where he belonged in Obi-Wan’s. Not until a warm mouth had gently brushed against his own in a moment he wasn’t sure was a benediction or a curse.
Obi-Wan had never given any indication that things may have shifted for him, too. It had hit Anakin like a ship coming out of hyperspace, sending him hurtling, crashing through the entire spectrum of human emotions. Elation and disbelief; hope and frustration. He spent nearly the entirety of his mission unable to focus on the task at hand, committing blunder after blunder as he constantly wondered if Obi-Wan’s parting gift had been a promise, or if he had only sought to mollify him, like his duty as Anakin’s former Master.
Anakin’s near-disaster of a mission had left him with its own parting gift in the form of a splitting headache he couldn’t shake. A throbbing dissonance that pressed in against his temples even in the silence of space on his journey back to Coruscant. Even after a day back, the noise had yet to abate, just joining in with the sometimes overwhelming din of the planet. It was one of those times that Anakin found it difficult to tune out the constant thrum of the Living Force around him, his shields fractured from one simple gesture that had upheaved his entire life.
At least Anakin had managed to salvage the mission from total failure somehow—no thanks to Obi-Wan. How could he have expected Anakin to be able to focus when something as simple as a kiss was tearing him apart?
But in the same vein, as much as Anakin blamed Obi-Wan for his current state, he also knew his Master was the one who could ease his troubles. After all, Obi-Wan was the only person who could answer the question pressing on his mind the most.
As Anakin made his way through the levels of the Temple, he knew exactly where he would find his former Master. He felt Obi-Wan’s presence the moment he set foot on Coruscant, maybe even the moment his warship entered the planet’s atmosphere. He followed the pull of that guiding light through the Temple as it led him to Obi-Wan.
Their timing was perfect as it always was, attuned to each other despite how unbalanced Anakin felt. As Anakin reached the floor the Council Chamber was on, the doors opened and Obi-Wan walked out, likely having just finished up his debriefing for the mission he had returned from. His presence in the Force washed over Anakin like a wave of comfort and serenity. When their eyes met across the hallway, Anakin slowed his steps to fall into pace with Obi-Wan as he continued on his way.
“Welcome back,” Anakin said as a smile spread across his face, unable to contain his elation over Obi-Wan’s return despite his churning frustrations regarding the way they had parted. It was always a relief to be reunited, no matter what terms they were on.
There was a twinkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes as he returned the sentiment. The lines at the corner of his eyes deepened, and Anakin was once again struck by Obi-Wan’s handsomeness, as he always was whenever his Master smiled. “You too, Anakin. Did your mission go well?”
Anakin bit his bottom lip to avoid scoffing at Obi-Wan’s innocuous question. Was that truly the first thing on his Master’s mind when he finally saw him again? He scanned Obi-Wan’s face, searching for a trace of anything that could assuage the doubts gnawing at his psyche. He found not a single hint of anything that had changed between them. Obi-Wan still looked upon him with warm affection in his eyes, the same way that he had for years.
Anakin’s heart panged in his chest at the idea that he would have to continue on with life as though nothing had changed between them when everything had changed for him—well, it wasn’t so much of a change for Anakin as it was finally having a taste of what he yearned for more than anything. Anakin had carried a torch for his former Master for years now—even before the past tense could be added to the title—and he couldn’t begin to think about how to continue on as everything he could have ever dreamed of seemed to slip through his fingers.
He finally answered Obi-Wan. “It went about as well as could be expected.”
Anakin doesn’t know what he expected. A hello kiss in the middle of the hall right in front of half of the Council? He clenched his fist tightly, digging the metal tips of his fingers into the sturdy leather of his glove. It was clear to Anakin now that he wanted more than he should, and he shoved down the myriad of questions that sought to spill forth from his mouth. Fear that the answers wouldn’t be what he longed to hear began to smother some of the hope that had burned in his chest since their kiss.
Still, simply being in Obi-Wan’s presence now worked to soothe him a bit. His nerves no longer felt as though they were being gnawed on by a nexu, even if he was one of the sources of Anakin’s turmoil. His former Master was as serene as ever; he always seemed to be despite the war waging around them. Anakin couldn’t help but to be envious of the ease at which Obi-Wan was able to find peace in these times. Anakin had to claw against the constant noise raging in his mind. Whenever the sensory overload hit a breaching point, Anakin often had to drown out his thoughts in the cold, silent steel of droids and machinery.
There were other ways, too. Somehow, Anakin was able to find calm at times in the middle of battle; his body and mind so laser-focused on survival and victory that the roaring din in his head could fade into the dirge of war. Sparring helped, as well. Whatever could keep Anakin’s body moving for long enough to forget about it all for even just a moment.
Anakin ached for that kind of release now, to purge the white noise fogging his mind. With anger kindling beneath his stress and disappointment, he needed to be moving, to be able to burn it out of his system entirely. Perhaps sparring could be a chance to prove himself to Obi-Wan as well.
“Something on your mind, Knight Skywalker?” Obi-Wan appeared to be in good spirits. He had clearly chosen to ignore the bantha in the room, but at least he was treating Anakin normally and not trying to avoid him. Anakin didn’t think he would be able to survive without Obi-Wan at his side.
Afraid of destroying the tenuous balance between them, Anakin shrugged noncommittally. He couldn’t deny that the use of his title made him feel some sort of way, but it wasn’t enough to encourage Anakin to approach the topic of their kiss. Instead, he allowed himself to bask in hearing his new title in Obi-Wan’s voice, reveling in the spark it sent through him. His Knighting ceremony had happened several months ago at that point, but he still got a rush every time he heard the pride in Obi-Wan’s voice or saw a glint of it in his eyes.
The only drawback of Knighthood was how much less time he was able to spend with Obi-Wan now. He had fewer chances to prove himself to his former Master. Fewer chances to draw that beaming pride out from beneath the layers of Obi-Wan’s sometimes frustratingly austere facade. The title may have felt nice—not so much as Anakin had anticipated over the years of his apprenticeship—but it was nothing compared to when he could see his triumphs reflected back at him on Obi-Wan’s face. Even his successes without Obi-Wan at his side felt a bit hollow in comparison.
“I know it wasn’t very long, but it feels like an eternity since we’ve been back at the Temple together, Master.”
“It was only a week,” Obi-Wan said with a laugh. “I could point out that it’s been much longer since I was your Master, Anakin.”
Anakin couldn’t help the way hope began to rekindle at Obi-Wan’s insistence on the subject of his own title. He ducked his head slightly to hide the grin on his face as best he could. “It’s a matter of respect.”
Obi-Wan raised an amused eyebrow at him, clearly not buying his excuse. “If you insist.”
The playful ribbing assured Anakin that at the very least, their friendship was intact. He purposefully knocked their shoulders together as they turned down another hallway. He hadn’t even said what he wanted—what he needed—but judging by the direction Obi-Wan was leading him towards the training salles. His Master already knew without Anakin having to utter a single word.
Obi-Wan knew him so well: an understanding forged over their years together and strengthened by the deep bond they shared with one another. Though at times his level of perception was overwhelming, and Anakin would shutter his thoughts and emotions, reinforcing the durasteel shields around his mind not only for privacy, but to avoid worrying—or even worse, disappointing—Obi-Wan.
Anakin was attempting to conceal his dismay about Obi-Wan’s decision to not address the kiss, but the whole mission afterward left Anakin’s mind raw and oversensitized and shielding amidst the cacophony of Coruscant was proving to be more difficult than usual. There was no telling how horribly he must have been projecting his unrest despite the effort to hold it in.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan’s presence was warm and welcoming, a soothing calm that Anakin wanted to bury himself in. Anakin missed this so much, had missed Obi-Wan so much. Whenever they were apart, Anakin felt adrift without his former Master at his side. Obi-Wan was his moor in the oft overwhelming tide of the Force, his safe haven from the push and pull as the galaxy rended itself into pieces in the war.
Obi-Wan truly was Anakin’s guiding light; his beacon calling out to him as he returned to shore.
But simply being with Obi-Wan wasn’t enough to quell the dissonance in his mind anymore—not surprisingly, being near his Master renewed the hunger that had crawled under his skin after that soft press of their lips meeting. It made him feel as though he would burn from the inside out, and he was desperate to smother the flames.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling up for a bit of fresh air,” Obi-Wan’s voice pulled Anakin out of his thoughts. “I do believe our usual place may be free right now.”
Anakin almost had to laugh. Of course if Obi-Wan wasn’t going to address the kiss, he certainly wasn’t going to blatantly draw attention to Anakin’s unrest either. Direct conversation was something of a scarcity between them, something that was unnecessary with the bond that connected them. He was certain his Master at least had some notion of what Anakin needed to release the pressure valve on his mind. From the moment they reunited, Obi-Wan had been gently projecting calmness towards Anakin, settling it like a soft blanket over his shoulders, though he understood from just a brush of their minds that alone wasn’t going to be enough to tame the turmoil within Anakin.
Whenever it was possible, Obi-Wan offered what help he could, even if at times that meant being the immovable object for Anakin to expend all of his frenetic energy against. The peace he reached at Obi-Wan’s side was far better than he could ever manage alone and going through katas in moving meditation or tinkering with droids. It was a level of quiet that seemed to elude him whenever they were stationed apart, almost as if it was only attainable with Obi-Wan’s steady presence to guide him.
Anticipation built as they neared their destination. What better way than to get both things Anakin wanted at once? A good sparring session to silence the deafening noise pressing in on his mind and the opportunity to prove to Obi-Wan that they were truly equals now. That Anakin was worthy of his love and affection.
“Anakin?”
A gentle, yet grounding hand on his shoulder brought Anakin to a stop. Obi-Wan had paused just outside of the doors leading to their usual training room, and there was concern in his kind eyes. Over the years, Anakin had memorized the myriad of ways Obi-Wan said his name, and this one was a question: ‘are you alright?’ weaved into his soft and careful pronunciation of the syllables.
But as always, Obi-Wan left it open-ended for Anakin to decide how to answer—or if he was even going to. He rarely pushed Anakin for more than he was comfortable with sharing.
Anakin couldn’t help the way his eyes darted down to Obi-Wan’s lips before he answered, like he was drawn to them. They were so close to one another, just as close as they had been when Obi-Wan kissed him.
“Ask me again after I’ve defeated you.” Anakin’s attempt to cover up his emotions with bravado sounded hollow and forced even to his own ears, but he knew Obi-Wan would understand the answer beneath his words.
The responding smile on Obi-Wan’s face confirmed as such, and he gave Anakin’s shoulder a squeeze before letting go to open the doors of the training room.
As soon as the breeze gently blew across Anakin’s face, he was grateful this was the location Obi-Wan had chosen. It had become something of a hideaway for the two of them over the years during his apprenticeship and even now in the time after. The balcony was on just a high enough level of the Temple that the hum of the city sounded distant, easily meshing into the constant white noise in his head. It was secluded, private despite being so open to the rest of the world. They likely wouldn’t draw a crowd there, unlike whenever they wound up in one of the main training salles. It wasn’t unusual for a whole horde of younglings and Padawans with their Masters to gather and spectate whenever the two Generals sparred. The pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears served to remind him that today it only needed to be him and Obi-Wan, one on one.
The polished marble floor gleamed in the high sun of the afternoon, illuminating the balcony in a warm glow that caught in Obi-Wan’s hair, bringing out the auburn in it. These days he wore his hair shorter, styled to curate the appearance of a venerable Jedi Master. It was such a change from the long locks he had throughout Anakin’s apprenticeship, but Anakin hadn’t expected it to affect him as much as it did. His Master had always been handsome—undeniably so—and the newer style charmingly accented the planes of his face, only making it even more difficult to keep his eyes from lingering.
They took their places on opposite sides of the room, and Obi-Wan shrugged off his cloak, tossing it off to the side with a casual smirk. Anakin could scarcely take his eyes off of Obi-Wan; it always felt as though he was putting on a show with the even-kilned confidence he exuded with such an otherwise simple action. It was almost arrogant, and it only stoked the fire burning within Anakin, making his robes feel a little too warm under the bright sunlight on the balcony.
He had held hope that the severance of his braid would have opened the door on a new chapter of their relationship, but little had actually changed between the two of them other than the title with which Obi-Wan addressed him. They were equals now, Obi-Wan always insisted. If he had wanted more in the same way Anakin did, surely he would have said something about the kiss by now.
Despite that Anakin had come to accept their relationship in its current form, whenever the two of them were reunited, the force of Anakin’s desires always hit like a freighter. Knowing what Obi-Wan’s lips felt like pressed against his own only compounded it. The sensation of the kiss played on repeat in his mind, haunting him like a ghost bent on driving him mad.
Anakin curled his grip tighter around the hilt of his saber as he entered into his beginning stance, using the weight of the metal in his hand to anchor himself in the present moment. He closed his eyes for a second, searching for the hum of his saber’s crystal, but it was nearly impossible to single out in the layers of discordance, especially as one chord in particular began to thrum even louder, making itself known above all else.
He couldn’t allow his attraction to Obi-Wan undermine his goal. Yet it was hard not to be consumed by how the sun hit his hair, highlighting the reds, golds and stately silver threads. He moved with such elegant grace as he crossed the salle’s polished floor, powerful muscles Anakin longed to feel beneath his hands and against his body shifting beneath his simple robes. Anakin harshly shoved those distracted thoughts aside, blocking them out and latched onto the hunger that would serve him better in their match: his desire to prove himself. The pangs of it gnawed at Anakin’s very core after every unsatisfying mission, and he knew Obi-Wan had the power to satiate it with only his words. Even if Anakin couldn’t have Obi-Wan’s love, he wanted his Master to look upon him with pride shining in his eyes and quell the void within him that felt as though one day it would devour him whole.
Obi-Wan’s voice was crystal clear through the noise that thundered in Anakin’s skull. “Are you ready?”
“Are you, Obi-Wan?” Anakin challenged as his former Master shifted into his Soresu stance. He typically didn’t begin with the defensive form in their sparring matches; it was Obi-Wan’s invitation for Anakin to unleash everything he kept bottled up within, to rain down his harbored unease with the humming blade of his saber, so that balance could once again return to his restless mind.
Anakin prowled in a half circle with his blade raised, hunting for an opening he knew wasn’t there. At the sight of yet another arrogant smirk on Obi-Wan’s face, Anakin lunged forward to strike first, wanting to wipe that smug expression off his lips. It was almost infuriating that Obi-Wan always knew how to make Anakin come to him.
When the blades of their lightsabers made contact, the plasma crackled threateningly in the otherwise calm atmosphere of the balcony. Anakin let loose a quick series of high and low swings while Obi-Wan deftly dodged or parried every single one of them with ease before attacking with his own wide sweep that Anakin had to quickly jump backwards to avoid, unable to bring up his own blade in time to block it.
“Do not fall back so easily into the aggression you relied on as a Padawan, Anakin. Be mindful or it will leave you open and vulnerable,” Obi-Wan lightly scolded him.
Obi-Wan’s words fueled the anger lurking within Anakin. How often had he heard those words over and over through the years? He needed Obi-Wan to see him for the man he had become, not the Padawan that he once was. Was that why Obi-Wan pretended the kiss hadn’t happened?
Obi-Wan appeared as though he were going to continue his lecture, but Anakin had heard enough already. He charged forward with another attack while gritting out a response. “I’m no longer a Padawan. Today you’ll be losing to a Knight, Obi-Wan.”
His former Master ducked underneath his blade as though he saw the attack coming a mile away. “Your taunts could still use some improvement, too.”
When Anakin tried to recover from his failed approach, he found himself unable to turn around as the sudden weight of Obi-Wan pressed against his back. Anakin struggled to regain the upper hand, but his mind seemed intent on narrowing down to the feeling of Obi-Wan’s body flush against his own and the flex of his muscles as they jockeyed for position.
“Why waste my time with words—” Anakin forcefully knocked backward against Obi-Wan in an attempt to throw him off-balance. “—when I could be defeating you?”
That didn’t seem effective—Obi-Wan had too much core strength to be moved easily—so Anakin aimed his next swing over his shoulder, only for his blade to connect with Obi-Wan’s successful block. Anakin ground his teeth in frustration. He wouldn’t be able to gain the advantage with Obi-Wan this close, with the heat of him burning through their robes. Anakin was overwhelmed by the power of Obi-Wan’s presence, and the inability to focus only made him more desperate and rash.
With his aggravation mounting, Anakin quickly pivoted away, extricating himself from the gravitational pull of Obi-Wan’s presence. His breaths were coming quick and hard as sweat trickled down the back of his neck from more than exertion and the heat of their sabers.
He advanced again, determined to prove himself to Obi-Wan as he brought his saber down against his Master’s. It was the first step of a routine they’ve done time and time again together over the years. Sometimes the dance was set to a different pace, with a variance in the steps as they moved in tandem, but the result was almost always the same. They spun through the moves, each one ingrained in their muscle memory, a whirlwind of clashing azure sparks as Obi-Wan met every slash and strike Anakin made.
The onslaught backed Obi-Wan into the corner of the room, leaving him with no more room to evade Anakin’s attacks as they rained down upon him. Their sabers sizzled and cracked as Anakin decided to forgo strategy entirely and rely on brute strength as Obi-Wan began to give under the pressure, falling down to one knee as he held on against the pressure. Victory was so close Anakin could see it within grasp, and it ignited his resolve even further.
The moment Obi-Wan’s grip faltered, revealing an opening in his guard, Anakin unleashed a merciless swing at his Master’s blade, knocking it out of his hands and sending it clattering uselessly across the marble floor.
Buoyed by the delight of triumph, Anakin couldn’t help the grin that split his face as he looked down upon Obi-Wan. “It’s over, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan gazed up at him, clear eyes illuminated by the glow of Anakin’s lightsaber, but they didn’t hold that glimmer of pride which Anakin sought so desperately. “Do you truly want this to end so easily, Anakin?”
Anakin’s smile wavered. No, he didn’t. It wasn’t enough—it should have been, but it wasn’t. The noise still rang in his head, an echo of his shortcomings.
He barely had enough time to spin away from a sweeping kick as Obi-Wan seized advantage of Anakin’s hesitation. Obi-Wan used the momentum to get back on his feet, coming straight for Anakin despite having been disarmed. Anakin knew better than to underestimate Obi-Wan; he knew more intimately than anyone else the true depths of the power that lie beneath his Master’s calm and unassuming facade.
Yet he had anyway, so blinded by his own emotions.
Obi-Wan easily deflected Anakin’s next attempt at an attack with just his bare hands, grabbing his wrist and turning his own strength against him with an elbow to the back to throw him off balance. Anakin’s frustration was nearing the boiling point. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times their sparring matches had played out in such a way. Was he really no better than he had been during his apprenticeship? He wanted to prove that they were equals, but all he had done so far was provide more evidence to the contrary.
His Master was following the pattern and going through the motions of their dance, so Anakin also knew what Obi-Wan’s next move would be before he even felt the tug of the Force on his saber. Even knowing what to expect, Anakin’s grip wasn’t enough to resist it altogether. The hilt went flying from Anakin’s grasp, but he reached out—focus unsteady—and diverted it away from Obi-Wan’s awaiting hand. The lightsaber deactivated and landed somewhere out of sight in the plants that bordered the balcony—Anakin hoped it didn’t go over the edge, he’d never hear the end of that.
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up as Anakin grabbed his outstretched hand, locking him in a grapple before his Master could reach out for either of their discarded sabers. He wanted to hold on to that bright moment—that satisfaction of victory—so badly. He’d prove to Obi-Wan that he was worthy of the title of Knight and make Obi-Wan look upon him as an equal.
Anakin was almost gleeful as he felt Obi-Wan’s own frustration mounting. He could see it in the glare that darkened Obi-Wan’s expression as they struggled. He could trace his Master’s anger in the curl of his lips and the flare of it across their bond, and it was tangible in Obi-Wan’s grip that would have been crushing if not for Anakin’s own durasteel hand. As they struggled hand-in-hand, his Master’s movements grew more haphazard as he fought for leverage.
There was no time to relish in it before Obi-Wan managed to sweep Anakin’s leg out from under him, and they fell to the floor, descending into chaos in a tangle of limbs with Obi-Wan on top of him. The fall didn’t quite knock the air out of Anakin’s lungs, but the sight of Obi-Wan above him stole any remnants of his breath away.
Suddenly Anakin’s senses were overwhelmed in an entirely different way—full of nothing but Obi-Wan. The strength holding down his wrists and legs, hidden beneath the layers of his loose robes. Even though Anakin had felt it just moments earlier with their backs pressed together, it was different now—almost dizzying as the blood seemed to rush out of his head and further south.
It was far more difficult to ignore how handsome Obi-Wan was at their current proximity. Anakin’s entire field of vision was nothing but Obi-Wan’s frustratingly charming face and his sharp grin of enjoyment as he easily kept Anakin pinned down. The sight of it so close to his own face sent a thrill shooting up Anakin’s spine as a pool of arousal sank low in his gut.
Obi-Wan’s presence enveloped him. The intensity of the Temple and Coruscant faded into the distance as it was blotted out by his own star looming above him, dragging him into its orbit. Obi-Wan burned with all the brightness of the determination that lit up his eyes. Anakin’s entire existence seemed to narrow down to the space between them.
“It’s over, Anakin.”
The ease of the tension in Anakin’s mind managed to reboot some of his thought processes, but hearing his own words from moments ago repeated back to him helped his true goal return to the forefront, lustful desire fading back into his hunger for validation. With renewed vigor, Anakin struggled to gain leverage, refusing to be defeated so easily. Though he was unable to focus enough to channel the Force to his advantage, still too distracted by the weight of Obi-Wan’s body against his own, he somehow succeeded in dislodging one of Obi-Wan’s legs that kept him firmly pinned to the marble floor.
But it simply found a new home between Anakin’s thighs.
All coherent thought Anakin had managed to scrounge up promptly went flying over the edge of the balcony at the unexpected friction between his legs, and he instinctually canted his hips up ever so slightly into the pressure as an involuntary sigh escaped his lips. His nerves sang with satisfaction, and the dissonance was drowned out fully by the blissful sensation.
But the relief was truly brief as it all came to a screeching halt when Anakin realized Obi-Wan had gone completely rigid above him.
Immediately, Anakin could feel the heat of embarrassment burn in his cheeks. Eyes wide, he stared at Obi-Wan, trying to gauge the expression on his face, but that otherwise charming forelock of hair shielded Obi-Wan’s eyes and the glare of the sun made it difficult to see much else. The only thing keeping Anakin from throwing Obi-Wan off of him with the sheer power of humiliation was the fact that Obi-Wan had yet to pull away from him. Perhaps his Master didn’t want to let go of victory so easily either, but maybe it was… something else entirely.
Anakin’s heart pounded, threatening to burst out of his ribcage as he waited for the inevitable chastisement from his former Master.
It never came.
The lack of lecturing allowed a spark of hope to ignite within Anakin’s heart, and the chord of desire returned louder than ever, flourishing into a luring siren’s song. Anakin wanted more; he wanted Obi-Wan in every sense of the word, but he hadn’t the hope until now to chase after him. Encouraged by Obi-Wan’s inaction, Anakin ground his hips upward once more, dragging his hardening length against Obi-Wan’s thigh. If Obi-Wan wasn’t going to address their kiss, perhaps a more direct approach was needed.
That was enough to stir his Master into action finally. Obi-Wan responded by gripping Anakin’s wrists tighter, and Anakin grew lightheaded as the sensation coupled with Obi-Wan’s weight holding him down overwhelmed him.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in that voice—the commanding one that always came out whenever he was frustrated. The voice that would have Anakin pinned to the spot if Obi-Wan wasn’t already physically doing so.
The hold on his wrists released before Obi-Wan continued, and while Anakin still was unable to see Obi-Wan’s face, there was fondness in the tone of his voice, clear even beneath the exasperation on the surface. “Have you ever considered simply asking for what you want?”
Anakin stared up at him blankly for a moment as the words soaked into his brain. It was as much encouragement as he needed to make his move. Compared to their earlier scramble, it was as easy as the afternoon breeze to reverse their positions as Obi-Wan allowed himself to be flipped to the floor.
With a bit of assistance from gravity, Obi-Wan’s hair fell back out of his face, finally revealing to Anakin what had been hidden beneath. He was met with that soft smile Obi-Wan wore whenever he encouraged Anakin, the one that reached his eyes and made the corners of them crinkle in fondness—and love.
The answer had been right in front of Anakin’s face since they reunited outside of the Council Chamber, but he hadn’t been able to see the truth until that moment, so blinded by his own insecurities and doubts. Of course Obi-Wan didn’t treat him any differently after their kiss; Obi-Wan’s love for him had always been right there on the surface, waiting for Anakin to see it.
They were equals not only in the Order but also in their love for one another.
Love flowed through the training bond they hadn’t severed alongside Anakin’s Padawan braid, almost overwhelming Anakin when coupled with the open affection and amusement on Obi-Wan’s face. If his heart wasn’t pounding hard enough already, it became downright erratic when he noticed what lay just beneath that love. He could see it clouding the clear grey-blue of Obi-Wan’s eyes: the same hunger he felt within himself, an incoming storm of desire that Anakin was more than ready to throw himself into the middle of it and let the torrent carry him away.
Anakin leaned down, drawn to Obi-Wan in the most intoxicating way. He braced his hands on the floor on either side of Obi-Wan’s head as he drifted closer until their lips were mere inches apart and he could feel the warm puffs of Obi-Wan’s breaths ghosting over his face.
“I want you, Master.”
With a flash of a sharp grin, Obi-Wan grabbed the front of Anakin’s robes and pulled him down the rest of the way to bring their lips together again. Anakin couldn’t help but to immediately lose himself, his frenetic energy from their sparring match spilling over into wet and sloppy, overeager kisses. There was no finesse as their teeth awkwardly clacked together a time or two, nothing like that soft first kiss Obi-Wan had given him all those days ago.
Gently, Obi-Wan laced his fingers through Anakin’s hair and tilted his head to guide Anakin into a better angle. He slowly traced Anakin’s bottom lip with his tongue before pulling back just enough to speak.
“Does your Master need to teach you how to kiss, too?”
Anakin could feel the deep rumble of Obi-Wan’s chuckle reverberate within his own chest. His words shot straight to Anakin’s cock that was already hard against Obi-Wan’s thigh, and he let out a needy whine into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Anakin didn’t want slow right now. Desire coursed like lightning through his veins, and his desperation for release was mounting with every heated touch.
Everything Anakin had ever wanted was finally within his grasp—literally in his hands as he pulled Obi-Wan’s face closer for another openmouthed kiss. He got the answer he had hardly dared to dream of, and it felt as though he had been jettisoned into the atmosphere, absolutely floating in elation and heady exhilaration.
With pointed precision, Obi-Wan suddenly pushed his thigh up, pressing it against the length of Anakin’s cock in a way that made his breath stutter. “Is that what you need, Anakin?”
“Y-yes,” Anakin gasped out, unable to feel even a modicum of embarrassment for how wrecked he already sounded. “Yes, please, Obi-Wan.”
Maybe winning their friendly sparring match wasn’t all that important if this was Anakin’s consolation prize.
As Anakin began to grind in earnest against Obi-Wan, his Master’s hands trailed down his body, leaving searing heat in their wake even through the layers of clothing. Once he reached Anakin’s thighs, he slipped his hands underneath Anakin’s robes and brought them to rest on the curve of his ass. A gentle squeeze had Anakin gasping into Obi-Wan’s mouth as he drank in Anakin’s pleasure.
Obi-Wan’s firm grip was the only thing that helped Anakin maintain something like a rhythm as he unapologetically rutted against the muscle so perfectly positioned between his legs. He steadily guided Anakin through the bliss, keeping him from falling into frantic movements in his lust-hazed drive.
Anakin ached to feel the hardness of Obi-Wan’s cock against his own, but his Master held Anakin in place any time he tried to align them, preventing him from exploring the rest of Obi-Wan’s body.
He could only imagine what it would be like for Obi-Wan to wrap a strong, callused hand around both of them, stroking until they fell to pieces together. The mental image of it was enough to make Anakin’s hips stutter and precum dribble from the tip of his cock, slicking the hot flesh and making the fabric of his pants damp.
“Master, I want to feel you,” he panted against Obi-Wan’s mouth.
“Patience, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s tone was commanding in a way that made Anakin tremble as a thrill shot through him.
Obi-Wan brought a hand back up to fist his fingers in the short, soft curls at the base of Anakin’s skull, pulling his head back to reveal the expanse of his neck. The trail of hot, wet kisses Obi-Wan left up Anakin’s neck left him breathless and keening under the deluge of pleasure. He topped it off by nipping lightly at Anakin’s jawline, definitely not hard enough to leave any hint of a bruise behind, but stars, Anakin wanted so badly for his Master to mark him up, leave a brand on him that declared who he belonged to.
The scratch of Obi-Wan’s beard against the sensitive skin of his neck sent shivers up Anakin’s spine, but it was nothing in comparison to his warm breath ghosting over his ear as he spoke lowly, voice deep and rough with desire.
“I know how hard it is for you to wait, my very keen apprentice. You’re chasing that release like your existence depends on it, and I know you need it.” In time with the emphasis of his words, Obi-Wan’s remaining hand on Anakin’s ass kneaded the supple flesh, pressing so closely to where Anakin desperately wished he was actually being touched. The pleasure it sparked deep within him nearly sent him careening over the edge, but he held on, wanting to stretch out the moment with Obi-Wan as long as he could manage.
“That’s why you came to your Master.”
Anakin weakly nodded, so overcome he couldn’t find the ability to form coherent words. He felt Obi-Wan’s lips curl in a smirk against his throat.
“Be good and come now, and I’ll take care of you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan encouraged him, pulling tighter at the soft strands of hair his hand was anchored in. “I’ll take you back to our quarters and give you what you really want, what you truly need to quiet your mind.”
Anakin buried his face against Obi-Wan’s neck as his pleasure crested, breath faltering as the force of it seemed to punch the air out of his lungs. There was blissful silence inside his skull as everything whited out in the brightest starburst; it was as though nothing existed outside of his Master holding him closely. Obi-Wan gently kissed down the side of his face until his breathing slowly evened out.
He kept his face nestled in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck as he slowly drifted back down, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the heat of his skin, filling his senses with nothing but Obi-Wan. The noise that had plagued him for a week fully abated and was kept at bay by the precious feeling of being held in Obi-Wan’s arms.
As they lay there like contented Loth cats in the beams of afternoon sunlight stretching across the floor, limbs tangled together, Anakin began to drift off to that plane somewhere between wakefulness and dreams. With one ear pressed to Obi-Wan’s chest as he used his Master as a pillow, the steady beat of his heart lulled Anakin closer to falling asleep. Satiated and secure, Anakin nuzzled against the soft planes of muscles, wanting to melt into him as Obi-Wan gently ran his fingers through his hair.
Even now, it all felt as though Anakin were dreaming, and the recurring images that visited him in his sleep had spilled over into his waking hours. But it was as real as the man beneath him, as real as the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice coming through his chest in a soft rumble. “Ahnakin.”
There came the press of a soft kiss against the crown of his head. “We can’t just lay here forever, darling.”
Anakin let out a petulant whine as he buried his face into the soft layers of Obi-Wan’s robes. The last thing he wanted to do was move from his very comfortable and warm spot.
Obi-Wan sighed heavily beneath Anakin, jostling him. “I suppose you’re no longer interested in my offer then?”
Quickly, Anakin jerked his head up to look at Obi-Wan, almost expecting to find annoyance in his expression, but instead there was nothing but the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Regardless, his drowsiness had been shaken by the insinuation, and the wet stickiness in his pants was starting to make itself known through his blissful haze. With a groan, Anakin extricated himself from Obi-Wan and stood up to straighten up his own robes.
He grimaced when he looked down to discover that his robes didn’t quite cover the wetness staining the front of his pants darkly. It wasn’t obvious thanks to the color of his pants, but he still dreaded the thought of walking through the Temple halls like that.
Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows to watch in amusement as Anakin fussed over his own appearance. His Master didn’t look too disheveled aside from his tousled hair and the wrinkles in his pants.
Must be nice.
“Such is the price to pay for your impatience,” Obi-Wan playfully teased before his expression softened. “Would you like my cloak?”
Anakin’s heart swelled at the offer. “That might be nice. If I run into Vos looking like this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
The fondness for his old friend was clear in Obi-Wan’s eyes even as he rolled them exaggeratedly. “We’d both never hear the end of it.”
It was Anakin’s turn to watch as Obi-Wan got up and meandered around the balcony, retrieving his saber and cloak. Anakin’s gaze traced the form of his Master’s body, fixating on the glimpse he caught of the discrete bulge of Obi-Wan’s still-hard cock as he fixed his robes and tabards. Hunger pooled in Anakin’s gut again at the sight, a reminder of the promise of what was to come once they reached their quarters.
Once Obi-Wan handed the cloak to him, Anakin immediately put it on and pulled it tightly around himself like a security blanket. It smelled of the same Temple-issued detergent everyone else used, but somehow that scent always reminded him of Obi-Wan, perhaps because he was the first person Anakin ever associated it with. Somehow, he refrained from burying his nose in the fabric.
Much like Obi-Wan’s cloak, his love was wrapped around Anakin, warm and comforting and reassuring. How could he have been so blinded to it before now? Or had Obi-Wan simply concealed his feelings that well? Now that they were out in the open, Obi-Wan was brightly radiating with enough affection to put the sun to shame.
Obi-Wan grabbed the front of the cloak to pull Anakin down the few inches it took for their lips to meet again in a soft, tender kiss. His hands came up to cradle Anakin’s face, holding him gently like he was something precious.
When they pulled apart, Anakin could hardly control the display of happiness across his face, cheeks almost hurting from the intensity of his own smile.
“All I had to do was ask, huh?” Anakin rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s and reached out to trail his fingers down his tabards. “How come you never said anything before, Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkled as he beamed at him. “Patience may not be your strongest point, Anakin, but I don’t have much issue with it. Besides, what would you have wanted me to do, take you into my arms right in front of Master Yoda and Mace in the hallway?”
Anakin ducked his head as he laughed, but he couldn’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed by Obi-Wan’s teasing, just so buoyed by the euphoria of this new layer of their relationship unfurling right before his eyes and blossoming into something new and beautiful. In the grand scheme of everything, he doubted he would have minded Obi-Wan making such a bold move.
With excitement bubbling in his chest at the promise he hoped Obi-Wan intended on fulfilling, Anakin turned to leave, but he hardly had a hand on the door before Obi-Wan was calling out his name again.
“Anakin, are you forgetting something?”
Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at him with an expectant look. Anakin attempted to search his mind for an answer, but quite honestly he did not have a single thought that didn’t revolve around Obi-Wan at that moment. The overwhelming miasma that had plagued him had dissipated and been replaced by pillowy clouds of afterglow bliss.
Unable to think of what Obi-Wan may have been referring to, Anakin instead gave into the desire to feel the press of their lips together again and leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan. He would never get over being able to do this now, and he certainly wasn’t going to allow any opportunities to taste the sweetness of Obi-Wan’s mouth pass him by. Obi-Wan smiled into the kiss, laughter forming on his lips before he pulled away just enough to speak.
“Your saber,” Obi-Wan provided, voice much too low for such a simple statement.
“Oh.”
Anakin regrettably pulled away from Obi-Wan in order to find wherever his lightsaber had disappeared during their sparring match. Its crystal hummed gently, calling out to Anakin with its song of the Living Force. Thankfully it hadn’t gone over the edge of the balcony as he had feared earlier, and he easily located it nestled in the vibrant green leaves of the lush plants along the edge.
While Obi-Wan watched him from the doorway, his amusement was palpable across their bond, bright and full of warmth. As Anakin rejoined them and they headed out into the hallway, it felt like opening a new chapter of their relationship, one they would write together. His heart fluttered with anticipation for what lay ahead of them, not just once they reached their quarters, but in their future together.