They were fighting.
Harsh and violent, they were fighting.
Every move that Obi-Wan made, Anakin hit back with equal force. One step forward and one step back, they danced along the dark hallway leading into the control room.
Anakin would strike out with a harsh blow of his lightsaber and Obi-Wan would return it with the same vigor. Their blades danced hard and fast, spinning and twirling, hacking and sliding. Anakin advanced in a whirl of blows and pressed Obi-Wan backwards and into the control room, leading him where he wanted him to be.
Their blades struck against the walls as they moved, sending sparks flying off the walls. The sparks fell onto them both and singed their skin with their heat. But still they kept on moving deeper and deeper into the control room.
Once in the room, Anakin shoved Obi-Wan to the side, enjoying the fact that he was choosing where they got to fight, he was in control. And that control was intoxicating.
He felt himself smiling as he fought, a sinister grin of misplaced amusement on his mouth.
Obi-Wan’s face was hard, his eyes full of pain and for some reason it made Anakin angrier. Damn Kenobi for not enjoying this as much as he was.
He sent an even more brutal slash of his blade towards Obi-Wan and it sent Obi-Wan flying backwards. His feet quickly shifted on the ground as he found his balance. Anakin wasted no time in continuing the fight, hoping to get the upper hand.
And in moments he did just that.
His lightsaber pressed against Obi-Wan’s and he used the force to help him press his saber against Obi-Wan’s even harder, forcing the blades to twist and slam into the console beside them. He kept the pressure, keeping Obi-Wan unable to move his blade momentarily and then, knowing instantly that he had the upper hand, his right hand shot out, unrelenting and quick, and clutched around Obi-Wan’s neck. As he moved his right hand, he simultaneously let his left hand go slack, dropping his lightsaber from his hand and letting it drop to the floor, extinguished, and then he harshly grabbed at the wrist of Obi-Wan’s that was holding his own lightsaber.
This happened all in an instant.
Instantly Obi-Wan gasped out, unable to breathe as Anakin crushed his throat, cutting off his airway. His hand shot up, clawing at Anakin’s hand and tried to free himself.
Anakin did not relent.
His hands gripped at Obi-Wan tighter; fingers digging into the other man’s writ and into the sides of his neck.
Obi-Wan’s eyes bulged even further and he let out a strangled moan as he tried to free himself. His face paled and he let out a mental cry of pain into the force.
Anakin thought about using Obi-Wan’s own lightsaber against him. Letting the blue blade slice through Obi-Wan’s skin. Cutting him in half or stabbing him through and through. And he almost did it too. Except just as he was about to deliver that final blow to end his Master’s life…
Obi-Wan, bent backwards in his pain and from the force of Anakin’s pressure, let out a mental cry through their still there, thirteen year long, Master-and-Padwan-bond. A mental cry of pure and unedited desperation. It was only one word, but the power of feeling woven into that word as he cried it sent the younger man trembling.
It was his name. It was just his name.
Even about to die, at Anakin’s own hand non-the-less, Obi-Wan was still crying out in desperation to him. It was just his name. And yet… he was almost knocked off of his feet by the pain and the… the love that was woven into his name.
Obi-Wan clawed at Anakin’s hand, his fingers drawing blood to the surface as he struggled to find purchase, trying to find a way to breathe.
Anakin kept on denying him that air. His fingers curling and digging deeper into Obi-Wan’s body as he felt another wave of fury flow through him. Anger that Obi-Wan could make him feel this weak, even when he was the one that should be in charge. He was the stronger one. He was. He was killing Obi-Wan and yet he was still trembling at the sound of his own name, spoken by Obi-Wan.
His fury sent him forward, pulling and then slamming Obi-Wan’s back into the console. Obi-Wan let out a breathless cry as he lost another jet of air at the abrupt jarring of his body into the hard console. His back dug into the levers and groves beneath him. Anakin knew it must hurt like hell. He hoped that it did. He drove Obi-Wan’s hand into the console, and enjoyed the way that he was bent backwards, helpless. Obi-Wan threw his free hand up, catching Anakin in the face, clawing at him and trying to push him backwards.
Anakin was almost amused at the feeble attempt to gain freedom. Almost.
He pressed himself into Obi-Wan’s struggling body, his own body flush with the thrashing one beneath his. He twisted the other man’s wrist, almost breaking it and he watched the lightsaber fall from his fingers. Obi-Wan’s free hand went back to trying to pry Anakin’s hand off of his throat.
Those grey-blue eyes stared up at him, dimmed by the lack of oxygen and clouded by pain. But still very much full of wisdom, full of warmth and light and love.
Anakin had always been powerless under that gaze and now was no different.
Everyone said that Obi-Wan’s greatest weapon were his words. He was called The Negotiator for that very reason. But they were wrong. His greatest weapon were his eyes. Those damn grey-blue pools of light, drawing a person in and driving them mad and senseless…
And suddenly Anakin’s mouth was against Obi-Wan’s.
Obi-Wan’s mouth was like nothing Anakin had ever tasted before. Hard and yet yielding. His beard brushed against Anakin’s cheek, tiny scratches along his skin that delighted him.
Those eyes flashed their surprise and Anakin felt his jolt of shock through the force.
His lips curled against Obi-Wan’s surprised ones. He still had the upper hand it seemed.
He pulled back slightly and he loosened his grip on Obi-Wan’s neck, his hand still resting there firmly but not crushing anymore. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan gasped and coughed out in relief as air flowed through his lungs once again. His head tilted to the side, he watched in interest as Obi-Wan’s lungs filled with air greedily.
He felt his smile return as the other man’s face settled to its normal color. Dizzy eyes met his and Obi-Wan let out a chocked and confused whisper, “Anakin?”
Anakin answered by bending down and kissing him again.
Instantly Obi-Wan tried to pulled back with a sharp gasp of shock and protest as those lips moved against his; harsh and demanding. But the console behind him and Anakin’s forceful lips above him forbid him from pulling away completely.
And then as Anakin pressed his body into Obi-Wan’s, tilting his hips downward and into the other man’s, teasing them both with the friction, Obi-Wan came to life.
His mouth, a few moments ago slack, began to press into Anakin’s harsh and unrelenting ones. Anakin felt pride and satisfaction flash through him as the Jedi beneath him gave into him.
The light gave into the darkness.
And it drove Anakin wild with need.
His closed his eyes, feeling Obi-Wan’s submission like a shout into the force. “I give in,” it seemed to say, “I give in to you, Anakin Skywalker.”
He twirled his hips, his mouth demanding on Obi-Wan’s and his tongue insistent and probing. Obi-Wan eagerly allowed the entrance, his own mouth responding with vigor and need. Obi-Wan’s body arched up, his hips pressing into Anakin’s.
Anakin pulled back slightly and he laughed, a deep throated joyful laugh, as Obi-Wan tried to follow him with his mouth, but was stopped by Anakin’s hand around his throat. He pressed lightly, almost teasingly, as he showed Obi-Wan exactly who was in charge. Obi-Wan took the hint and he reluctantly fell back onto the console.
Anakin stared down at him, his lips curling in his pleasure at Obi-Wan’s obvious submission.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice dark and possessive.
Obi-Wan’s mouth opened , an instant rebuttal at his lips, but he froze as Anakin tightened his grip on Obi-Wan’s wrist. The older man nodded, understanding and finally agreeing what they had both known for so long but never before spoken aloud. “Yes, yours,” he whispered. And to show how much he meant it, he reached up with his free hand to curl it around the back of Anakin’s neck and then he lightly tugged, asking Anakin to come to him.
Anakin replied by completely letting go of Obi-Wan’s wrist and throat and instead entwining his hands into Obi-Wan’s hair.
And even though they had been fighting not five minutes ago, suddenly there was no conflict and only grasping hands, twisting hips and kissing mouths.
Oh, there was still anger and violence. Anakin was still practically humming with power from the Dark Side as he loved the man below him. And his hands were violent as he tore at Obi-Wan’s clothes, trying to rip them off of his body as quickly as possible. And he wasn’t alone in his violence, as Obi-Wan tore at Anakin’s clothes just as roughly.
Obi-Wan’s beard brushed against Anakin’s skin. Anakin’s teeth bit into his Master’s bottom lip. Fingers curled too tightly into skin. Hips pressed hard enough to make the friction between them almost too much. Obi-Wan’s ass was pressed hard into the control panel behind him, bruising and unrelenting. Obi-Wan kissed Anakin like a man drowning; like the only way he could breathe was to pull himself as close to Anakin as possible, to find his own breath in Anakin’s mouth. As if he could draw up cool air from the other man’s lungs.
Though neither spoke it, they both knew where this was headed.
The force around them vibrated with the knowledge of what was to come.
Anakin grabbed at the cloth on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, twisting it in his hand and tugging harshly. Obi-Wan threw his shoulder back into the console as he tried to help him in the removal of his clothes. He let out a pained moan as his bruised shoulder dug into the console and he pulled his face away from Anakin’s to let out a pained gasp.
Anakin laughed darkly at the sound. Amused at Obi-Wan’s clumsiness. Obi-Wan growled at him, unamused. The dark look on his Master’s face sent a shiver of arousal through him and he felt himself harden more as he wondered at just how dark Kenobi’s thoughts went.
He planned on finding out. Right now.
He pulled back fully, not touching Obi-Wan at all. Kenobi sat up, falling against the console and trying to find purchase now that he no longer had Anakin pinning him against it. His clothes were rumbled, his face flushed, a red print of Anakin’s hand was slowly appearing around the flesh of his neck.
Anakin found himself thinking that Obi-Wan had never have been this gorgeous before.
Without saying a word, he began to pull off his clothes. Unhooking his belt and throwing it aside, pulling up his tunic and dropping it to the floor. At the sight of this, Obi-Wan’s eyes were now hesitant, as if he was just realizing what he had silently agreed to. Seeing this, Anakin reached forward toward the other man and harshly unbuckled the belt surrounding his waist with a few flicks of his wrists. He unceremoniously tossed the belt aside and then moved to pull at his shirt.
His eyes were dark and focused, as if daring Obi-Wan to object.
Obi-Wan allowed him to pull his shirt off, his eyes full of doubt and confusion as he let Anakin strip him. He was trembling with pent up emotions while Anakin was statue-like in his certainty and sureness. The light tunic fell to the floor and landed next to the other man’s dark one.
“Obi-Wan,” he said, his voice even, “bond with me.”
Anakin knew what his friend was thinking. He would be furiously trying to deny that he wanted Anakin. That he wanted to bond with him. Even now, with them both hard as can be, clothes coming off, lips bruised with brutal kisses, Obi-Wan would try to fight his feelings.
A Sith and a Jedi? Bonding? Never.
He could see the thought in those grey-blue eyes, tinted dark with desire and confusion, as easily as if Obi-Wan had spoken it aloud.
And yet… Obi-Wan loved him and they both knew it. They both knew that his love had been the reason for all of his actions for the last 13 years. The reason why he defied the Council occasionally. The reason why he risked his life, again and again to save Anakin’s. The reason why he let Anakin curl up with him in bed when it was cold or he had had a nightmare. The reason why he sometimes would stare at Anakin when he thought he was being sneaky. The reason why he was always reaching out to touch Anakin, to brush his hair out of his eyes, to fix his clothes, to hug him. The reason why he never said anything about Padmé for fear that his jealously would show through his words.
Love and hate. Which would win?
Anakin smiled at his Master, enjoying the emotions crossing his face, enjoying that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by inner conflict. But his patience was running thin and so he decided to help speed up Kenobi’s thought process, to get them to the point that he knew he would reach eventually.
He grinned in anticipation and began to tug at his boots, throwing them off in haste. His eyes never left the Jedi’s. And just like he knew he would, Obi-Wan instantly began to follow Anakin’s lead.
And passion overwhelmed them once again.
They both threw off the reminder of their clothes -- boots tossed away, pants sliding off with haste -- throwing them haphazardly onto the floor, uncaring of the other clothes on the floor, the clothes covering the chilled bodies of Anakin’s victims. Anakin briefly wondered if Obi-Wan had seen them and hoped that he hadn’t; he wanted to see the look on his face when he did. He was momentarily thankful for the table that was hiding them. He didn’t want them to ruin the mood. Those Separatists had already ruined so much.
And then he was here and centered in the present, all thoughts centered on the naked Jedi that was currently kissing him. He grinned darkly as he realized that Obi-Wan had made the first move this time. It was defiantly a pleasant thing. He moaned as they were pressed flush together, the sweat of their battle making their skin warm and slick. And the hardness between their legs rubbing against each other… it was beyond sin and beyond pleasant.
Obi-Wan tangled his hands in Anakin’s hair, his fingers woven in the waves, as his mouth plundered Anakin’s. There was no lingering doubts as he kissed him now. Just two bodies pressed together.
If this were a more pleasant time, a time maybe just a few weeks ago, he would have gone slow about this. Tasting Obi-Wan’s body, teasing him and feeling each curve of his body under his hands and mouth. He already knew his body so well, but to know it as a lover? He would have jumped at the chance. Spent hours memorizing it. Pleasing Obi-Wan till he was spent. But this wasn’t the time for slow love-making. No, this was a time of bonding. Of passionate and rough bonding; one that cemented who they were. That bonded them together, not slow and tender, but hard and fast.
And so he shoved him backwards once again, separating their lips violently and he stalked over to where he had thrown Obi-Wan, grabbing his shoulder and roughly spinning him around. The other man let out a huff of air as he quickly had to find purchase on the console beneath his hands.
Wordlessly he grabbed Obi-Wan’s hips, aligning his hips to his own. Pressing them together, flesh to flesh. The Jedi gasped at the sensation and hung his head low, tense and waiting for Anakin to move.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Anakin, eager to find his pleasure in Obi-Wan, took a hold of his very eager member, and pressed against the Jedi. Obi-Wan bit his lip, holding his breath as the head of Anakin’s cock pressed forward insistently at the ring of muscle guarding his opening. Anakin cried out as he pressed forward, sinking only slightly into Obi-Wan’s heat. Never having done this before and with no lubricant to soften his intrusion, he had to push hard and deep in order to move into him. Obi-Wan’s body tried to stop the intrusion, like all lover’s bodies do the first time, but Anakin kept pressing forward, knowing that the pain would soon be pushed away and leave behind only pleasure. It was the way of all pleasures, he knew.
Obi-Wan groaned low in his throat, eyes tearing up, his fingers gripping on the console as Anakin moved into him for the first time. He grunted at the overwhelming feeling of being overfilled went through him. His whole body was tense and he didn’t know how to stop it. Anakin grabbed his hips and shot forward, driving his hips hard into Obi-Wan. He earned a loud cry in reply as Kenobi shook with the abrupt intrusion, his hands flying out to grab at something, anything, to distract him from the pain. His fingers curled around a lever, his palm digging into the metal, fingertips pressed hard against the metal. He tried to control his breathing. Tried to calm himself down. He felt himself shake with emotion and tension.
Anakin completely overwhelmed him. Drew pain from him and yet, there was something there, on the edges of his mind… it felt pleasant, nice and warm. In a way, it was good, this pain. It meant that Anakin was real. He was here. Inside of him.
“Force,” Anakin gasped as the heat of his friend, now lover, overwhelmed him. Surrounded him.
“Force,” Obi-Wan agreed, groaning, this time less pained and more eager as he grew used to the fulfilled feeling of his lover inside of him.
But Anakin wanted more. He wanted to be truly bonded.
His mind went out to Obi-Wan’s, demanding to be let in. He felt himself being stopped by a barrier and it angered him. Why would Kenobi deny him in his mind when he already had his body?
But his thoughts were shaken and his mind stopped trying to enter Obi-Wan’s when said man began to move against him. The motion of the Jedi’s hips sent his cock deeper, making them flush together. And then they were pressed, flesh to flesh, and breathing heavily.
“Yours,” Obi-Wan gasped. Sending out a mental compromise.
He took the olive branch. For now. He’d try again later.
And then, together as one, in silent agreement, they began to move. They loved as they had fought, both as friends and enemies, sure and confident, steady and passionate. It had never failed them before. And it did not fail them now.
Hard and fast, Anakin trust into Obi-Wan, his hands rough on his hips, fingers digging in and leaving little crescent marks. His durasteel hand left harsher marks and he knew it would bruise later, as would the finger marks around his neck. But blemishes are far from the Jedi’s mind as he thrusts back on Anakin. His groans, now laced only with his pleasure, were loud in Anakin’s ears.
Anakin’s head bowed, his hair falling into his eyes, as he continued to thrust into Obi-Wan with his practiced and sure hips. His eyes closed in concentration, trying to hold off his orgasm as long as possible so that he could stay inside of Obi-Wan.
Each movement was hard and sure. Moving deep into his Jedi. And Kenobi moved back into him with each forward thrust of Skywalker’s hips. They met each other in the middle. Like they always did. They both gave and took. Partners in the true sense of the word.
Anakin felt that wonderful warmth of tension in the pit of his stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of their hips.
He reached out with his mind, waning to feel the glow of Obi-Wan’s own wonderful tension. He was met by a wall. He felt his rhythm shift, faltering, his eyes flashed open and his hips sent a hard thrust deeply into Obi-Wan that had him crying out in discomfort. Anakin loosened his tight grip on Obi-Wan’s hips in an instant apology. He circled his thumb in a comforting manner on the trembling hips below him and he slowed down his trusts.
But the tenseness of Obi-Wan’s muscles stayed taught. He could feel the Jedi trying to relax, almost seceding and then retrying. He reached deeper in the force and felt the mental wall, trying to find a crack. He gently slid along the wall, waiting for entrance.
“Obi-Wan,” he muttered, half a demand and half a request, searching.
He felt the wall, still sturdy and unopen, but he could also sense his lover’s emotions vibrating along those walls, those feelings through the force, like tendrils, emanating from him. There was pleasure, there was love, there was… the doubts, the fear…
And that’s when he noticed the catch in Obi-Wan’s moans.
He stilled his body entirely as he realized that, although Obi-Wan had allowed this bonding, he had not ended his inner conflict. Obi-Wan was still fighting it. He was filled with fear and guilt at what they were doing. He knew that Obi-Wan had never started something with him because of the Jedi Code, first of all, but also because of Padmé. He knew, somehow, that Anakin was already taken, and Obi-Wan had been unable to pursue Anakin because of it. And now, here they were, doing just that. Pursuing this relationship while Anakin’s pregnant wife was lying on the cold concrete outside, while Anakin was now also a Sith’s apprentice. After Anakin had killed in the name of the Sith Lord…
And as his body shuddered with, dare he even think it, regret, he felt another shudder from Obi-Wan.
It confused him, he wasn’t doing anything that should cause this reaction from Obi-Wan, and so he pushed away his other thoughts and instead focused on his lover.
Obi-Wan’s body was now visibly shaking below him, and Anakin’s smile and the pleasant hum of pleasure that had surrounded him, shrank away as he realized what was occurring.
Obi-Wan was crying.
Silent sobs shook the Jedi Master as he tried to keep his sobs to a minimum. As he tried to hide them from his friend.
The knowledge that he wanted to hide anything from Anakin, anything at all, made him tremble with pent up rage. Rage at himself. What was he doing? Who was he? Who was he to make Obi-Wan cry?
He felt Obi-Wan shift under him, seeming to “wake up” so to speak as he realized that something had changed, that something was going on.
He felt his Master tense further, tightening around him almost harshly, as he wondered what would happen now.
Trying to comfort him, to show him that all was safe here, Anakin leaned down, shaking as he felt himself slide deeper into Obi-Wan at the shift in position, and he nuzzled the right side of his neck.
Obi-Wan instantly swayed into the comforting strength of Anakin’s jaw. And then, as the curls in Anakin’s hair brushed against his cheek, he jerked away from him as if he’d been burned by something lava hot and vile.
Anakin frowned, annoyed that his comfort had been denied. What was he doing wrong? Sensing that more comforting was needed, he reluctantly pulled back from Obi-Wan, sliding out of his body and pulling backwards.
His reached out with his human hand, curled it around Obi-Wan’s forearm and then roughly turned him around to face him. Obi-Wan’s startled and confused eyes met his, those grey-blue orbs searching his for an answer. Part of him enjoyed the fear he saw there, and part of him was detested by it. All of him wanted to make it better. Somehow.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan questioned, his voice trembling. Shaking in fear.
Fear at what Anakin might do.
He reached out a hand, cupping the Jedi’s trembling face in his hand. He sent out a wave of comfort through the force.
“I know,” he muttered. And then he truly did know.
Anakin fell to his knees, his bare shins on the cold control room floor. He felt Obi-Wan’s confusion growing by the second.
Not bothering to look up and see that look that they knew he would see there, he leaned into Obi-Wan and towards his task. He pressed a soft kiss to the flesh of the Jedi’s thigh, letting his lips linger on his skin, tasting him. He felt Obi-Wan’s shudder through their connection, both physical and mental. He smiled and shifted on his knees, his mouth close to Obi-Wan’s cock, but not touching, and then he leaned in and left a small kiss onto his other thigh.
Obi-Wan let out a moan, the pleasure flowing through their bond, and it made Anakin raise his head to look up at his love.
He stared into his lover’s eyes, a lazy smile on his lips as he looked up at him, pleased with himself. He knew he must be a sight, looking up at Obi-Wan with such a lazy look, while he was so close to something not at all lazy or innocent.
He grinned at the pleased look on Obi-Wan’s face, the fear he had seen, slowly disappearing. He was still confused, that was obvious, but he didn’t look so afraid of Anakin anymore, which was a relief. The joy drove him to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s legs in a child-like embrace and he leaned backwards slightly, keeping eye contact with the Jedi the whole time.
And then suddenly, an idea struck him. A way to make Obi-Wan’s eyes clear of confusion. He reached out his hand up to Obi-Wan, grasping it in his, and he pulled the Jedi down to him.
Obi-Wan, unbalanced by Anakin, swayed and then fell onto the floor in front of him. He tumbled into him and Anakin quickly rolled them around, so that he was lying on top of his love. He then leaned down to the surprised Obi-Wan, softly kissing his forehead, his eyes, kissing his neck…
Obi-Wan’s mind reached out to his, tentatively searching for an answer to the question that was Anakin.
He lightly dragged his mouth against Obi-Wan’s neck, lips sliding along the smooth column. He teasingly nipped at him with his teeth, playful. He felt the Jedi shudder, this time pleasantly, his body once again growing aroused at Anakin’s ministrations. He trailed downwards, kissing his chest, right over his heart, his trembling stomach, the curve of his hip. He nipped at the hard bone on his hip, right over a long and thin scar that he’d gotten two years ago while he had been saving Anakin’s life. Skywalker moaned at the light blemish on Kenobi’s skin and all that it stood for.
He rolled his eyes up to see Obi-Wan’s eyes closed, his mouth open slightly in a silent gasp. He felt himself grow almost painfully hard at the sight of his lover’s pleasure.
He moved further down the other man’s body, lightly planting a kiss on the side of Obi-Wan’s cock. The Jedi’s hips shifted at the sensation and let out a moan that caused Anakin to chuckle. Obi-Wan’s cock was now as hard again and very eager. Anakin then sat up, and began crawling up Obi-Wan’s body, leaning close enough to the body beneath him that his cock trailed along the Jedi’s own member, and then up his stomach, leaving a trail of sticky wet pre-cum behind. He felt Kenobi’s shudder all the way through the force.
Once he was at eye level with Obi-Wan, he leaned down, kissing him with a passion that he hoped conveyed how much he wanted, needed, desired and loved Obi-Wan. The kiss that he received in return gave him a feeling that he hadn’t felt in weeks… hope.
Obi-Wan reached up, his fingers sure and steady once again, and tangled into Anakin’s hair as he kissed him deeply, drinking him in. At the kiss, Anakin knew that his Obi-Wan had returned to him. He dipped his body into his lover’s, putting him fully against him. Warm skin meeting everywhere. The hard and chiseled plains of their stomachs pressed close, cocks rubbing against each other, hips twisting; Anakin was sure that nothing had ever felt this good, this right, before.
He pulled back from the kiss, smirking at the dizzy look on Obi-Wan’s face. He reached up with his hand, trailing it alone the other man’s lips, the top, the bottom, at the corner. And then he dipped two fingers into the crease of the Jedi’s lips, asking. Confusion returned, but not the fear, at the motion. But agree he did. His lips parted and he allowed Anakin’s fingers to slide into his mouth.
Obi-Wan’s tongue lathered the fingers, his mouth pouting, head bobbing slowly towards Anakin and then backwards, in a parody of lovemaking. Anakin’s eyes darkened at the sight, eyes glued to Obi-Wan’s mouth, a moan escaping his lips as he imagined Obi-Wan on his knees before him. Eyes looking up, submissive and yet so very eager. Driving him mad with pleasure…
After a moment, Anakin pulled his hand back, impatient to continue, the moisture of Obi-Wan’s mouth still lingering on his fingers. He knew that the other man’s eyes were following him as he slid backwards, parting his lover’s trembling thighs and then nestled between Obi-Wan’s knees. He grinned at his Jedi, as he took at light hold of Obi-Wan’s legs, positioning first one and then the other, so that they were bent, his feet planted on the floor.
And then he looked up at Obi-Wan from under his eyelashes, grinning lewdly, as he ran his wetted fingers along the crease of his ass. Obi-Wan shifted at the caress, his eyes widening. Anakin repeated the motion, dragging his fingers down twice more before he added a bit of pressure to the motion. A pressure at Obi-Wan’s entrance. He then probed forward, a singular finger sliding into him.
Obi-Wan’s hips jolted upwards at the intrusion, but he made no motion to flee. Anakin, seeing the compliance in his lover’s eyes, pressed his other finger into him and then twisted those fingers. He felt Obi-Wan clench against his fingers and he grinned as he watched Obi-Wan’s cock harden at the motion made deep inside him.
He slid his fingers, in and out of Obi-Wan, pumping them and causing Obi-Wan to roll his hips towards him, wanting more. He continued that torment for a few moments, randomly making deeper thrusts in a teasing manner, waiting until he was sure that the confusion and fear had left Obi-Wan and only pleasure and love remained. Once sure that Obi-Wan was prepared and ready for him, he pulled his fingers away, slid up Obi-Wan’s slick body, and was positioning himself once again.
“Obi-Wan,” he said, looking deep into his love’s eyes, needing him to understand, “I’m here with you.”
“As am I,” the Jedi replied, blue-grey eyes flashing. And then he reached up and pulled Anakin’s head down to him, reaching for his lips, kissing him furiously, that passion very much alive inside of him.
Anakin returned the kiss as he pressed his cock into Obi-Wan, shuddering as he pressed into his love’s entrance. They both cried out, pleasure coating their cries, as Anakin pressed smooth and steady into Obi-Wan. It took a few moments for him to slide himself all the way into his lover, mindful that he needed to be much slower this round. But this time, Obi-Wan’s body was calm, his body shaking only in his desire to be bonded with Anakin. His eyes were clear, his tears from earlier, dry on his face. His body was completely relaxed as his eyes rolled back into his head as Anakin pressed his cock deep into Obi-Wan’s flushed body.
The Jedi’s hips rose off of the ground at the sensation of Anakin, hard and long, inside of him. The quick upwards motion sent Anakin’s cock jolting deeper into him. A shout left his mouth and his head threw back into the ground, his back arching. Anakin let out a shout of his own at the sensation and he grabbed at Obi-Wan’s hips, torn between going slow and steady as he suspected he should or going hard and fast, as he so desired.
But Obi-Wan made that choice for him. The Jedi reached out, grabbing at Anakin’s ass roughly and pulled his hips down to him at the same time that he thrust his own up. They met together in a harsh slap that had them both crying out. Anakin’s shocked eyes met Obi-Wans’s almost, could it be, smug eyes.
And before Anakin could catch his breath, before he could focus on anything besides the feel of Obi-Wan’s warmth surrounding him completely, all the way to the base of his cock, Obi-Wan began to piston his hips, letting Anakin slide in and out of him. Anakin cried out, his hands digging into the other man’s hips as he returns the harsh, almost painful, but definitely pleasurable, slamming of hips.
And this time as they bonded, it was all pleasure and no doubt. They both were moving their hips, digging their fingers into flesh and crying out as their bodies slapped into each other.
Anakin grabbed at Obi-Wan’s wrist as he saw the Jedi’s eyes beginning to close, and he threw it above Obi-Wan’s head, securing it to the hard floor beneath them.
“Look at me,” he demanded, twisting his Master’s wrist into the floor, never ending the hard twist of his hips into Obi-Wan’s. “See me.”
*I see you.*
Anakin cried out, shouting in surprise as he felt Obi-Wan’s shields slide away and his mind probe into his. He just about came right then and there as he realized what had happened.
Obi-Wan was fully bonding with him. He had opened, not only his body, but his mind to Anakin.
A rush of feelings, a warm stream of memories, thoughts and passion, flew from Obi-Wan’s mind and into his. A rush of love, so pure and honest, so tender and bright, pounds into him and cascades over him in an overflow of sensation.
He can feel the overwhelming passion caused by Anakin’s body in him, the joy at feeling his body so deeply in him and the love from years of pent up feelings, spreading over him. Holding him close and making him cry out in surprise and happiness.
And in his own heart he felt something shift. The doors that he had locked so long ago, because of the fear of loss, shed and finally allowed himself to really let Obi-Wan’s love rush over him. He realized in that moment, that he hadn’t lost Obi-Wan like he had so feared. He had actually had him all along. In body and soul and mind, Obi-Wan had always been Anakin’s for the talking. And so take he did.
Never ending the gorgeous melding of their bodies, he replied to Obi-Wan’s mental declaration of love, his generous giving of himself. Anakin released the locks on his own mind and sent his own love, his own feelings of desire and tenderness, shoved down deep inside of himself for so long, and he projected them into Obi-Wan’s eager mind.
He then felt himself lose his stride, lose his breath, as he felt Obi-Wan’s overwhelming acceptance of everything that he was, flow into him.
Obi-Wan saw everything that Anakin was: his thoughts, fears, memories and darkness… and he accepted it as it was. Obi-Wan loved him, Anakin was certain of this. With every molecule of his body, he was sure of this.
He feels, he feels, Obi-Wan’s love for him and he’s overwhelmed.
He swoops down and captures the Jedi’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply, drinking him in. And as their lips meet they’re both sent over the edge, coming in wild spasms. They both cry out, yelling into the control room, into the force, into each other’s minds as that tension inside of them burst open wide.
They slam into each other, their hips digging deep into each other, Anakin’s grip on Obi-Wan’s wrist pressing so deep it cuts through his skin and a small trail of blood wells up to the surface, dribbling out. Obi-Wan’s own grip on Anakin’s hips leaving small bruises.
Anakin feels his whole body shudder as he feels himself cum into Obi-Wan, warm and pulsing, and he feels his body just about combust, overwhelmed, as he feels Obi-Wan’s own warm come on his stomach. He feels Obi-Wan’s orgasm through their now bonded minds, and he feels his own mind go blank of anything but pleasure.
Anakin feels all the strength of his body leave him and he falls into Obi-Wan. Losing all control.
Their cries echo, shifting from one mind to the other, extending the pleasure to the point that it becomes sublime. Anakin thinks that, in this moment, he knows what the phrase, “to die from pleasure” means.
As he slowly finds the order in his mind again, he opens his eyes to see Obi-Wan, panting as he recovered from his own orgasm, and smiling lazily up at him. “Anakin,” he whispers, his voice slurred and lazy, “Anakin.” His hand reaches up and slowly runs along his lover’s back, fingers tracing an unknown pattern on his skin.
Anakin shudders once more, a wave from an earthquake. He releases his grip on Obi-Wan’s wrist, wincing at he noticed the drops of blood smearing the pale skin caused by his grip. He brings his hand up to stoke Obi-Wan’s face, fingers running over his beard covered chin. He trembles as he realizes that there is blood underneath his fingernails. Obi-Wan leans into his hand, nuzzling his palm, seemingly unaware of the crimson painting his flesh as the motion causes some of his blood to slide of Anakin’s fingertips and onto Obi-Wan’s skin.
He pulls his hand away to gaze at the sight below him. Obi-Wan’s lazy smile, his closed eyes, at ease body, cut wrist still above his head, blood smearing his cheek. Anakin is half aroused by the sight, this Jedi all dirtied up, and half revolted that he had tarnished Obi-Wan in any way.
Obi-Wan’s head rolled to the side, that lazy smile still on his mouth. That is, until Obi-Wan’s eyes opened up. Anakin let out a gasp of discomfort as Obi-Wan’s body tightened up without warning, squeezing his already sensitive flesh and his fingers dug into Anakin’s back.
He blinked and turned to see what had caused the sudden tightness in Obi-Wan’s body and Anakin’s own body froze as his eyes met with the unstaring eyes of a dead Separatist on the floor on the other side of the room. He felt a jolt of panic, hot and sharp, in his gut and he didn’t know if it was Obi-Wan’s feelings or his own. But either way, he had to fix it.
“Obi-Wan,” he called, his voice shaking, turning Kenobi’s face toward his. He felt no resistance, which was good, he thought. It gave him hope. “Obi-Wan,” he repeated desperately, seeing the doubt return into those wide and stormy eyes. “They were just Separatists.”
Apparently that wasn’t the right thing to say as Obi-Wan’s hands left Anakin’s back, and he moved them to his shoulders, and he began to shove Anakin, trying to move him off and away from him. But Anakin wasn’t going give up that easily. He wasn’t going to let Obi-Wan slip through his grasp now that he’d had him. Now that he’s bonded with his body and mind.
“They were just Separatists,” he said, stressing the last word. “Separatists and droids.”
“And children,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Anakin felt his whole body abruptly tense, every muscle stilled in shock and horror. “Children,” he croaked, his voice wobbling in very un-Sith-like manner as his panic rose to unbearable levels. “Children?”
His head flew up, eyes frantically looking at each body lying around them, searching for small bodies among the Separatists. Looking, and desperately hoping, that he wouldn’t find a small child lying next to them, body split in half by a lightsaber.
Had he killed a child? He couldn’t remember. It was all a blur of light and screaming and motion and blood and—what if he had? What if he had struck down a child. A child with trusting eyes and an innocent heart.
He felt like screaming. Felt like running and throwing himself into the pits of lava outside of the control room. He felt like dying. He felt like--
He gasped, eyes half crazed in fear, and met Obi-Wan’s probing gaze.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his hands coming up to cup Anakin’s face in his palms, fingers brushing the side of the younger man’s neck reassuringly. “Tell me the truth. Did you hurt any children?”
His eyes shot up again, looking for evidence, to prove Obi-Wan wrong. To prove that he hadn’t hurt, hadn’t killed, murdered, children—but the truth was that he couldn’t tell.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, his head hanging down low, trying not to look at Obi-Wan, and instead staring down at his chest, the rise and fall of his body. Proof that he was alive. That he hasn’t killed his lover. He hadn’t—“I don’t know,” he sobbed, his voice finally breaking and tears spilling out of his eyes with a force that surprised him.
And with that revelation, the flood gates opened, and he lost all control of his body. He dropped down into Obi-Wan, sobbing, ignoring the surprised grunt at his quick fall, and he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, holding onto his Master for dear life.
“I don’t—I—I—I don’t know,” he sobbed, his body curling as he buried his face into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. The side of his face rested against the cold floor and with each sob his face was rubbed into the unrelenting concrete. A sob, harsher than the rest, sent them shaking almost violently and it caused them to both gasp as it moved their bodies where they were still connected.
The jolt of pleasure mixed with pain at the friction, so wrong in this situation, caused Anakin to sob even harder, angry with himself for feeling those sparks of pleasure when a dead child might be somewhere in this room.
Obi-Wan’s arms hesitantly moved to surround his shoulders. When he felt that Anakin wasn’t going to negatively react to his touch, he curled his arms around Anakin’s broad shoulders holding him strong and firm against him.
“Anakin,” he whispered quietly, his hand stroking the back of Anakin’s head, fingers sliding through his soft hair. “Anakin,” he continued to softly chant, rocking Anakin in his arms, ignoring the way his back was pressed into the hard floor, or the fact that Anakin’s grip was almost painful on him.
*Anakin. Anakin. Anakin…*
Finally, Anakin’s sobs stilled and with a groan he flexed his hips, sliding out of Obi-Wan and then he collapsed back onto Obi-Wan, this time his cheek resting on his Master’s chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. Obi-Wan’s arms moved with him, his hands staying in his hair.
There were a few moments more of silence and then Obi-Wan whispered, trying not to press too fast but needing to hear the answer anyway, “Anakin, were you part of the Temple killings?” He paused and then, his voice trembling with the next phrase, he said, “I need to know.”
“The Temple,” Anakin whispered, confusion swirling through him. He leaned up to face Obi-Wan’s questioning gaze, resting his weight on his forearms, “Our Temple?”
“Yes, our Te-“ Obi-Wan abruptly stilled, his eyes filling with a brightness that had been hidden the moment that he saw the dead Separatist. “You weren’t there. The Emperor sent you here, not to the Temple. You didn’t—you weren’t there,” he whispered, his voice full of awe and realization.
Obi-Wan let out a barking laugh, harsh in the previous silence, but still welcome, and he pulled Anakin down to him, kissing him softly, and then passionately. His lips sending shocks of pleasure and jolts of happiness through Anakin. *Oh, Anakin,* Obi-Wan sent to Anakin’s mind, his shields slid down once again, and he rubbed his body up into Anakin’s surprised one. His hands slid down his neck, raking along his back.
Anakin kissed him back, confused but happy to be kissing Obi-Wan for a few moments. But then his questions were too many and he pulled back to say to the smiling Obi-Wan, “No, I wasn’t at the Temple. I was here. I’ve been here all day. What does--”
“You didn’t kill any children, Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted, “you aren’t lost.” And then Obi-Wan was the one crying, his eyes filled with happy tears as he kissed Anakin’s eye lids, his forehead, his chin, his cheeks. “You aren’t lost.”
Anakin shivered with elation at the words and he closed his eyes, accepting the truth. Accepting everything and feeling it all in his bones. Feeling it in the force.
“I’m not lost,” he confirmed as he laughed, sweeping his own lips against Obi-Wan’s skin. Brushing over his lips and then capturing them with his own and sweeping his tongue into the eager mouth below him.
The kiss was more than sharing their elation, it was a promise, a promise that they were to be together, bonded, even when they died and were to become part of the force, no matter what, from this moment on.
Obi-Wan’s hands entwined in Anakin’s hair and Anakin’s own cupped Obi-Wan’s face. Mouths soft and lingering. Light on the corner of the mouth. Then hard and deep, with tongues sweeping in and twisting together. Then they’d begin again.
It was the sweetest, most desperate and loving kiss either man had ever had.
Neither wanted the moment to end. But reality came to them in a rush of warm heat as the control room’s side door opened and they heard the sound of mechanical chatter.
The beeps were desperate, worried and frightened. And they were coming from R2D2.
Both men froze as the droid whirled around the table, emitting panicked little beeps as he took in the bodies littering the floor… and the very naked and entwined bodies of Anakin and Obi-Wan.
Slick with sweat, hands on each other, their clothes thrown around the room, come drying on their skin, bodies covered in reddening bruises, scratches and handprints… they made quite a sight.
Artoo let out a squeal of shock and he slid his mechanical body around in a quick jerking motion, sensors looking away from the lovers nervously.
Obi-Wan’s face became a bright shade and he covered his face with his hands, trying to hide, while Anakin, completely unashamed by his nudity, still lying on top of Obi-Wan, calmly asked, “Artoo, what is it?”
Artoo let out a series of rude clicks and beeps, shrill and accusing, that had Anakin tensing. “Padmé,” he whispered, his voice shaking with guilt and worry.
Obi-Wan instantly sprang into motion. He pushed the frozen Anakin off of him, and began to grab his clothes, crawling on his knees to grab is nearby pants and to tug them on. “Artoo,” he commanded, instantly in General mode, “go back and keep watch over her. We’ll be there in a few moments.”
Artoo made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort at the two men and then he beeped his agreement and quickly swiveled out of the room.
At Artoo’s departure, Anakin seemed to come to his senses and he quickly began to gather his clothes as well, throwing them on in haste. “Oh force,” he began to chant under his breath, fear filling him as he thought of his wife. The way he wrapped the force around her neck. How he’d almost killed her, almost killed their child…
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, both in the force, and aloud, “we’ll figure things out. We will.” Anakin turned desperate eyes to face his half dressed Master, needing to hear these words. Obi-Wan placed his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, his grip strong and sure, as were his words when he began to speak.
“I honestly can’t say that I have all the answers. So much has been lost and broken. Not all by you,” he said, his grip on Anakin’s shoulder tightening briefly in comfort. “but broken, it has been never-the-less. We just have to find out how to mend it. The Jedi are so few now,” he shuddered at the words and Anakin reached out, placing his hand over Obi-Wan’s heart, offering comfort himself. “It would not be wise to return to the capital now. Especially since The Emperor will now be coming after you too. Trying to bring you back to the Dark Side.”
Anakin shook his head, denying it, needing to prove to his Master that he wasn’t that Sith’s apprentice anymore.
Obi-Wan continued without skipping a beat, “Which won’t happen, I won’t allow it. We won’t allow it. But it’ll still be dangerous. But we can do it.” Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin reassuringly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “We’ll get Padmé the medical attention she needs,” he said, his forehead now leaning against Anakin’s. Their breath mixing and swirling between them. “And then we’ll take it from there. Alright?”
“Alright,” Anakin, whispered in agreement.
*I won’t ever leave you again,* Obi-Wan sent to Anakin’s mind. His internal voice soft and filled with a promise. *I’m yours.*
*And I’m yours,* Anakin replied, a promise of his own.
Their lips met in a promise. The kiss tasted of their sweat, both from the battle and their bonding, and it tasted of their tears. But it was real. It was filled with hope and promise.
And Obi-Wan swore that he felt the sparks of the Light Side that had lingered during their fight, spread during their kisses… was now engulfing Anakin. Swirling around him, around them, pulling them together, sheltering them.
Anakin’s brightness, his light, was burning so bright that he could almost see it.
It was almost as if the force itself was making a promise.
*Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker*, it seemed to whisper, *welcome home.*
… the beginning …