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"That's it - keep going. Just like that."
Vader's shoulder bumped Obi-Wan's knee as he moved, the angle of his hand changing just so that his mechanical fingers could curl and rub. Obi-Wan let out a grunt as pleasure shot through him, pooling in his gut before slipping through his limbs. He shifted slightly so he could hook a leg over Vader's shoulder, opening himself up more as Vader continued his ministrations between his thighs.
Propped up with an assortment of pillows, Obi-Wan had time to admire Vader from his perch on the bed. There was a determined look to Vader as he knelt on the floor, his chest bare and breathing apparatus on full display. It pumped oxygen into his abused lungs at a steady pace, mechanical and void of comfort. Even after all this time Obi-Wan still found the sound disquieting.
But his breathing had picked up pace the longer Vader fingered Obi-Wan, his yellow eyes focused on what his hand was doing, brows furrowed as the mechanical droning of his breathing hitched now and again.
"Enjoying the view?" Obi-Wan asked.
Vader made a sound and glanced up at Obi-Wan, but he didn't say anything. Instead he inserted a third finger, making Obi-Wan let out an undignified hiss as his rim was stretched by unmoving metal. But despite the use of his mechno-hands Vader still had the ability to please, Obi-Wan finding that he and no one else could reach the spots that made Obi-Wan ache and tremble, the desire coiling in his groin until he was almost willing to beg for some sort of release.
He'd trained Vader well all those years ago, when the bonds between weren't as taught and tense and layered with just as much scarring as the planes of Vader's body. Though there was a beauty to Vader, even after everything. Even after what Obi-Wan had done.
His prosthetics were beautiful in an elegantly dangerous way, black and shining, lines sharp and long, the metal warm to the touch after being cloaked in layers of leather and dense black fabric throughout the day. Obi-Wan would marvel as they held on to him, Vader's touch at once commanding but still deferential, bruises thick and layered upon Obi-Wan's thighs and arms and ankles. The tubes that linked into his body pushing food and liquid and painkillers when the Emperor would allow remained closed up when he wasn't in his tank, black circles marked along pale, scarred skin like the spots of a loth-leopard or something equally intimating.
Vader had put on more mass since he was a young man, muscles stronger and denser, powerful beneath Obi-Wan's hands as they fought or fucked or lay next to one another in a rare moment of peace. He'd also grown in height, which something that both amused Obi-Wan and also intimidated him, Vader positively towering over those around him. Yet he still seemed ducked and cowed whenever he was with Obi-Wan - like a part of him would always be Obi-Wan's Padawan.
Like a part of him would always be Obi-Wan's, no matter what.
But it was his face that remained the same and yet so changed. The anger he'd worn in busts as a young man had grooved his skin, his scowl an almost permanent feature beneath the mask. Rage suited the warped flesh and the yellow-red eyes, yet beneath it all was still Anakin. Still so lovely and fair and delicate. His lips still pouted, his twisted scowl easily flipped into something softer with the right words, the right phrases, the right praises. He still laughed, though it was harsh and hung with grief, and his remarks were quick and biting, a perfect parry to Obi-Wan's wit and rancor.
Obi-Wan liked the way he still fit between Obi-Wan's legs, fingers flexing and hands stroking, desire and desperation evident in his eyes as they peered above the small breathing mask that locked away his desperate little moans. He still took Obi-Wan as if they'd been made to be together, Obi-Wan's cock set deep inside, spilling hot seed into his insides, marking him in ways the Emperor would never get to.
And he still wanted to please Obi-Wan in some way; still craved that recognition and that he was doing well, that he was good for Obi-Wan, and that he was worth something beyond causing pain and destruction and hurt, even though he'd never admit to it. Even though he never could.
"You're beautiful," Obi-Wan whispered, his hand going out to cup Vader's cheek.
Vader shied from the touch, a look of hurt in his eyes that, for once, Obi-Wan hadn't meant to cause.
"Do not mock me," Vader said. His touch inside Obi-Wan didn't falter, but Obi-Wan could feel the tension in their bond once more.
Obi-Wan didn't apologize. They didn't apologize. And yet...
"I wasn't joking." Vader glanced back up, eyes familiar blue for just a moment before the yellow crept back in, irises crowned with blood red. He let Obi-Wan touch his cheek this time, his scarred skin warm to the touch in the heat of Obi-Wan's cabin. "You always were so beautiful. In form... in expression... in power."
Vader picked up pace, shoving his fingers into Obi-Wan with a quick pace. He didn't look away this time and kept his eyes on Obi-Wan, their attention focused on each other as Vader continued to finger Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's cock lay on his stomach, thick and swollen and ready for release, but he left it alone.
"A-always such a good boy," Obi-Wan continued as he took Vader's head between his hands and hooked his other leg over his shoulder, locking him in place. Vader let out a little sound, mechanized but still sweet. "You always did know how to please me. How to make me feel so good."
Vader continued to rub Obi-Wan's prostate, making Obi-Wan shudder and shake, body rocking toward the motion even though it was starting to hurt.
"You taught me well," Vader said.
"I did, didn't I?" Obi-Wan smirked, pleased with Vader's own recognition of the fact.
The guilt he'd lived with for years at having fucked his Padawan was still a sore spot, but it didn't pull and snag and tear like it had when Obi-Wan was a Jedi. He didn't have to live with the knowledge that he'd betrayed the Order by desiring his charge - his brother - in the ways that he did. He'd betrayed the Order in other ways, in more destructive ways since then. In ways that Obi-Wan would never be able to fix even if he wanted to.
Obi-Wan was close, but he wanted more. And he could tell Vader did as well, his shifting between Obi-Wan's legs more pronounced, his eyes locked on Obi-Wan as if waiting for specific instruction so that he could be told more about how good he was. As if a Sith Lord should ever wish to be called good.
"Take off your breathing mask," Obi-Wan said.
It hurt him to breath without it, but Obi-Wan knew he could survive for a time. He didn't ask it of him every time, but when he did Vader would usually relent. This time he simply nodded and ducked his head, giving Obi-Wan access to the banding along his skull. Unclasping the straps the mask fell off to dangle from Vader's neck. Vader gasped as soon as the mask was removed, pale lips opening and swallowing thick mouthfuls of air. His lungs wheezed, painful little sounds that stalled his fingers, but when Obi-Wan dared to ask if he was going to be okay he was rewarded with another push against his prostate.
Without having to be asked Vader took Obi-Wan in his mouth, tongue hot and slick around Obi-Wan's length. Obi-Wan let out a cry of pleasure, his cock throbbing and pulsing. Vader kept their eyes locked as he sucked on the tip and continued to finger Obi-Wan, movements more punishing - more pleasing.
"You're so good at this," Obi-Wan purred, his body arching up into Vader's mouth. It wasn't like before, with Anakin's soft lips so pink and puffy, and his skin slick with sweat that made his cheeks shimmer like bronze. There was no hair to hold on to, no cock to admire as it sat fat and heavy between Anakin's legs, and no gentle breathing. Vader was harsh - harsh lines and eyes and touch - and yet it felt just as good.
Because at least Obi-Wan still had him; still had his Padawan, his Knight, his General. He still had Skywalker, even if he was bent and torn by Obi-Wan's own hands.
"K-keep going," Obi-Wan whispered, gasps and groans slipping past his lips as Vader finally closed his eyes and sunk down further, encasing Obi-Wan's cock in his throat. "That's it; that's a good boy. Such a sweet boy. My boy... my darling."
Vader hummed and Obi-Wan spilled, words of praise still slipping from his mouth as he released. He held Vader down on his cock, the harsh feeling of skin against skull still jarring even after all this time. The pleasure was all over, immense and filling, Obi-Wan feeling it through their bond and in his chest and cock like buffet of waves against his body.
When he was done he fell back on the cushions and gently batted Vader's hand away, over sensitive and uncomfortable almost immediately. When Vader slipped his fingers from his hole Obi-Wan dropped his legs back down, splayed and waiting for the inevitable weight on top. Almost as soon as he'd settled Vader was crawling up him, movements hurried as he straddled Obi-Wan's hips and waited for his reward.
"You said," Vader mumbled. His mask was still off, his lips covered in spit, breath smelling of come.
Obi-Wan wondered if his come was the only thing Vader ate directly these days.
"I know I did," Obi-Wan said. "And I am a man of my word."
Vader shuffled up further, his weight settling over Obi-Wan's stomach, large frame blocking out the light overhead. It was sometimes unnerving to have such a massive predator up above - a massive predator that nuzzled up against Obi-Wan's hand and pleaded for his mouth, but a predator nonetheless.
"Up further," Obi-Wan said as he gripped the back of Vader's thighs, nudging him all the way up so that Vader was straddling his chest.
Grabbing the lube that lay discarded on the bed, Obi-Wan slicked his fingers up before pressing them against Vader's entrance. Vader made a sound in the back of his throat that was interrupted by a crackling in his lungs, and he put his breathing mask back on as Obi-Wan began fingering him. There was no cock to suck or play with, nothing to make Obi-Wan messy with come, no short curls to lick and make stick against Vader's groin, but Obi-Wan nuzzled the crease of Vader's groin before sucking on the base of what was left.
"Obi-Wan," Vader mumbled.
Vader started running his hands through Obi-Wan's hair, making it filthy with lube and spit, causing Obi-Wan's already sensitive cock to twitch. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the feel of Vader's body around his fingers, hole loose and relaxed just as Obi-Wan had taught him all those years ago, inviting Obi-Wan in so that he could rub his prostate and make him feel good.
Make him feel complete, if just for a moment.
Vader started rocking, shoving his groin into Obi-Wan's open mouth before pushing back into his touch. He didn't moan as he used to, didn't groan and whimper as he once had, the voice modulator filtering out most of the beautiful sounds. But Obi-Wan felt them all the same, in his cock and hole and chest, pride and arousal flaring up in him as he thought of how he could still undo Darth Vader with a simple curl of his fingers and swipe of his tongue.
Vader came with a stutter, his thighs flexing as he cupped the back of Obi-Wan's head with one hand to hold him against his groin, while the other slipped down to squeeze Obi-Wan's neck. The touch was a warning - a reminder of who they were and what he could do. A reminder that Vader had just as much power over Obi-Wan as he did over him.
Obi-Wan missed Vader's come. Missed the taste of it, sweet and salty, a reminder that sat in the back of his throat and settled there throughout the day. But there was nothing for it, now. He'd done this to Vader - something Vader was keen to remind him of whenever they weren't like this.
Sith weren't supposed to regret.
When Vader was done he collapsed next to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan looked over at him, watching his chest rise and expand, the buttons of the console flashing as his breathing regulated itself. It was always odd to see Vader lying on a bed made of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, richness and exuberance mixing with sterility and mechanization. Obi-Wan had once joked that Vader needed a throw-pillow in his castle to soften the place up a little, but Vader had remarked that his Master didn't want him to be comfortable.
His other Master.
His real Master.
They lay for a time, neither saying anything, Vader's breathing the only sound in the space. They didn't talk much afterward; there wasn't anything to say that wouldn't lead to accusations and sharp words that left them both bruised and bloodied. Obi-Wan supposed that had been a problem of the even before their combined fall. They'd never been very good at talking.
Vader eventually moved, clothes collected from the floor and put back on with some suffering sighs. Obi-Wan had offered to help once but had been thrown against the wall when he'd tried to touch Vader's skin outside of fucking. Since then Obi-Wan would lounge on the bed and ignore the little voice in the back of his head that wanted to ask Vader to stay.
It was the voice of a weaker man whom he'd quelled long ago.
Yet still he called, and still Obi-Wan would turn in hopes of seeing the young boy he missed stood next to him.
"I'll be gone for a few weeks," Obi-Wan said as soon as Vader had re-dressed, armour and thick clothing once more in place. His helmet remained off, however, eyes on full display.
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere you need concern yourself."
Vader paused, and Obi-Wan could see a flash of something in his eyes that Obi-Wan knew all too well.
Distrust.
But instead of saying anything Vader shoved his helmet on, the seams making a hissing sound as they closed and tightened. Obi-Wan stared into Anakin's death mask, catching his reflection in the red glass that covered Vader's eyes.
All he could see in his own face was regret.