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Later, Anakin will blame what happened on the food Dexter served them earlier in the day. There must have been something wrong with it, maybe too much sugar, maybe a weird spice mixture, that got into his head and made him do what he did after Obi-Wan invited him for a cup of tea in his quarters.
The night started out innocently enough, with the two of them sitting opposite each other, the hum of the other patrons and Coruscant's street noises playing in the background almost soothingly.
"How were your classes today?" Obi-Wan asks as soon as they have their plates in front of them.
"Well," Anakin says noncommitally, "Master Plo told me to work on my posture for meditation. As if it matters how straight my back is!" He takes a bite of his sandwich before adding, "I mean, of course I remember when you taught me how to—uh, you know. Sit properly."
"Anakin, please don't talk with your mouth full."
He feels his ears burn and looks around the diner as if help was just behind the counter. "Sorry, Master," he murmurs.
But after a moment, Obi-Wan only smiles. Anakin swallows his next bite very slowly, sips his Jawa juice and waits for Obi-Wan to say something else. When he doesn't, Anakin asks, "How was your day?"
He feels stilted and awkward, but Obi-Wan responds as if nothing was wrong, tells him about the hours he spent in the Archives with Master Gallia, and the more he talks, the more animated he becomes. It's rare that Anakin gets to see this side of him, and he savors every word. He almost forgets his sandwich, and that is saying something.
Dexter comes to their table and chats with them for a while, or rather, he and Obi-Wan exchange stories from years ago, which Anakin listens to with equal parts fascination and disbelief. Try as he might, he just can't imagine Obi-Wan as anything other than his Master, despite the fact that when they met, he was barely more than an annoyed teenager.
"And he did all that armed only with a blaster and his wits," Dexter is saying, gesturing to Obi-Wan, and Anakin laughs.
"A blaster?" he asks, and tries to picture it. Obi-Wan catches his eye and shakes his head softly, but there is a glow in his face that betrays him a little. Anakin holds his gaze for a moment longer, too long he fears, but then again, Obi-Wan isn't looking away either. It's only when Dexter slams one of his hands onto their table with laughter that they turn their attention to him again, and he launches into his next story.
***
"Long day?" Anakin asks in the hallway of the Temple dormitories, when he sees Obi-Wan suppress a yawn.
"You know it," Obi-Wan says, blinks, and pauses in front of his own door as if he is unsure if it's the right one. Anakin watches with amusement as his Master opens his mouth, then closes it, before finally saying, "I'm going to have a cup of tea. Care to join me?"
Anakin doesn't usually like tea. But he likes Obi-Wan, so he doesn't hesitate.
"Sure."
The familiar smell of Obi-Wan's quarters envelops him like a warm embrace, and Anakin breathes in deeply before he follows Obi-Wan into the little kitchen area. There's a table and two chairs next to the sink, and they sit just like they always used to do after a mission or a day spent sparring and going over Anakin's forms again and again. Now that he's older and has seen war and battles and all kinds of atrocities, Anakin makes himself look at Obi-Wan's space with different eyes. They're nothing special, these rooms that he used to share with his Master, but he guesses that because they're his, they will always stand out to Anakin.
He watches Obi-Wan make the tea, careful not to pour the water onto the leaves while it's still boiling, and then Anakin takes the mug Obi-Wan holds out to him, sets it down in front of him and stares into the steam for a moment.
Feeling Obi-Wan's eyes on him, he looks up.
"Credit for your thoughts?"
"I—can I ask you something?"
Obi-Wan's face softens. "Always, you know that."
"It's about the Knighting ceremony," Anakin says slowly. Obi-Wan nods at him to continue, and he takes a breath before saying, "I know yours was, well. Unusual." He winces, but Obi-Wan doesn't contradict him.
"But could you still—I mean, could you tell me what it's going to be like?" Anakin hates how small his voice gets; he feels like he always used to do when he was young and new in the Temple, when the other Padawans, whether purposefully or not, made him think that he had to ask permission before doing anyhing, no matter how inconsequential.
"Of course," Obi-Wan says with a smile. "It's an important step for any Jedi. One thing, maybe the most important thing, that you have to understand, is that being a Knight comes with as many responsibilities as it brings privileges. And the ceremony symbolizes that. It's going to be me knighting you, if nothing happens beforehand. The lightsaber changes its meaning in that moment, from weapon to vessel. One wrong move, and—"
Anakin swallows, and knows what Obi-Wan means without him having to say it outright. He looks at his mechno arm, and feels a shiver run down his spine at the memory of the fight against Dooku.
"So you see how loaded a moment the ceremony is. But like I said, I will be there."
The feeling that rises up inside Anakin's chest at these words would be hard to articulate under any circumstances, so he doesn't even try it in his head; instead, he folds his hands around his mug of tea, and immediately yelps as his flesh fingers are burned, a sharp pain rising almost all the way to his wrist.
Obi-Wan laughs after a moment of shock, and grabs both of Anakin's wrists. "Let's hope that this wasn't a bad omen for you, hm?" he says as he motions for Anakin to stand up and leads him to the sink. He lets lukewarm water run over the skin, and the instant feeling of relief makes Anakin gasp.
"What is it? Too hot?"
"No, uh, it's nothing." Anakin stares at Obi-Wan's fingers as they hold his, spread them to make sure that the water gets everywhere. Anakin is careful not to let the water get too near the mechno arm; it can get nasty trying to dry it and protect the sensitive circuits.
"There we go," Obi-Wan murmurs, and turns the water off. "Do you think you'll need to get it bandaged?"
"No," Anakin says quickly. As much as he enjoys the attention, he can feel himself bristle at the way Obi-Wan fusses over him, as if he was a youngling with a scraped knee. He has seen battlefields, for Force's sake.
"As you wish. But be careful, do you hear me? I don't want it to get worse if you can avoid it, hm?"
Anakin opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. "Thank you," he says simply. Obi-Wan visibly softens.
"Of course." He smiles, and Anakin feels hot again all of a sudden. The low light in the kitchen softens Obi-Wan's features, casts them in a warm, comfortable glow, and Anakin can't look away from his face, his kind eyes and his mouth, especially his mouth. Silence stretches between them, and Anakin knows he's staring, but he can't think of anything to say, so when the thought comes it catches him off guard: he would very, very much like to kiss Obi-Wan.
"Are you all right?"
"What? Yeah, sure," he stammers, and feels the tips of his ears burn. Where did that come from all of a sudden? Was it something Obi-Wan said, or how nice their evening at the diner had been, that now makes him flush and almost grab the hot teacup again?
Anakin stops himself just in time but, out of nowhere, his brain decides to churn out a series of images: Obi-Wan kissing his injured hand, Obi-Wan taking Anakin's fingers into his mouth, sucking them gently before releasing him with a pop. Obi-Wan licking his burn so that it heals faster, because Anakin vaguely remembers a lesson about that, it had to do with insect bites and how spit can help against itching, and what is this if not an itch?
He stands up too fast, and his head spins so much that he almost slumps back down into his chair. Obi-Wan is looking truly concerned now, but Anakin manages to fake a yawn and say, "I should go, I have classes tomorrow," as if it wasn't Obi-Wan teaching them advanced Soresu first thing in the morning. But he lets it slide, and wishes Anakin good night; Anakin almost doesn't hear him over the rush of blood in his ears.
The noises of the battle are still ringing in Anakin's ears when their troops finally tally up the last latecomers in the base, and even though he expected to be drained and tired when he finally made it to their quarters, he finds he can't stop pacing. When he returned one of the clone's nod earlier, he felt his heart swell with pride at everything he and Obi-Wan accomplished here.
"Anakin," he hears behind him, and he deflates a little at the sight of his Master, his stained armor already abandoned but his robes still dirty from the mud of Alaris Prime, but Obi-Wan's eyes betray him. He doesn't enjoy the fighting, never has, and Anakin knows this. Still, seeing him in action always manages to send a thrill down Anakin's spine, especially during missions like these, when diplomacy and peace talks made way for on the ground fighting, lightsabers and all.
"Everyone is accounted for, I believe?"
"Should be," Anakin says, and looks out of the window and over the camp again. They made do with an abandoned estate south of the capital, a ziggurat too large for one family, the decor too ostentatious, Anakin thought at first. But the rooms meant for staff and servants are perfect now, giving them all the space they need to see to the wounded, offering them some much needed privacy.
It also means that he and Obi-Wan don't have any real need to share their quarters, but still found themselves in front of the same door on their first night here, which is not something Anakin is going to complain about.
"You know," Obi-Wan says, taking a seat on a small settee and motioning for Anakin to sit down next to him, "this wouldn't have been possible without you."
"Oh? Is that a compliment for my—" Anakin pauses, then wrinkles his brow in an exaggerated impression of his Master, "foolish plan that is probably going to get us all killed?"
"I don't sound like that," Obi-Wan says, indignation creeping into his voice.
"You do to me," Anakin retorts easily, and waits for Obi-Wan to smile. When he does, Anakin feels like a lothcat in a warm patch of sun, and something blooms inside his stomach, threatening to burst through his skin.
When they fell into whatever it is they have now over the past year, Anakin couldn't believe it was him experiencing this at first. Everything felt like a dream: Obi-Wan kissing him, allowing Anakin to kiss him, then the nights they spent together, taking everything in much smaller steps than Anakin liked, but he didn't complain; it didn't even enter his head to do so.
Now, after the battle and high on adrenalin, one look exchanged between them is enough.
"Is the door closed?" Obi-Wan asks, already leaning in. Anakin barely glances in its direction before he murmurs that it is, and then he is kissing Obi-Wan, his eyes falling shut without his permission because it is still new every time. Obi-Wan tastes faintly of blood, but mostly like himself, and this is something Anakin knows he can always count on: that no matter what happens, Obi-Wan will stay who he is. It's a fact, the same way that the earth is solid underneath his feet, or the suns of Tatooine still sometimes blind him when he closes his eyes.
He moans against his Master's lips and allows him to lick into his mouth, because this is what Anakin has discovered he loves best about getting to be with Obi-Wan in this way—his clever tongue is so much better at getting Anakin to shut up than any of his words.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan murmurs when he draws back, just a fraction, but it's enough for a string of saliva to form between them. Anakin freezes, but it breaks almost as soon as he saw it. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Anakin says quickly, and tries to catch Obi-Wan's mouth again, but he tilts his head.
"Are you sure?"
"Do you want me to show you just how sure?"
Obi-Wan laughs, then inhales sharply when Anakin palms him through his robes. He flushes when he feels how hard Obi-Wan is already, just from kissing. "Huh," he says without thinking.
"Don't act so surprised, dear one," Obi-Wan says, and finally leans back in to nip at Anakin's cheekbone. "You know very well what you do to me."
"Yeah?" Anakin tries. It comes out as a question, and he loses his focus when Obi-Wan moves higher, kissing his temple, then his hair, his beard scraping against Anakin's smooth skin.
"Mhm. Especially after a day like today. You did so well, despite the odds. You probably saved the lives of hundreds of our men."
This should not be as arousing as it is, Obi-Wan talking about the battle so matter of factly, but mixed with the praise, Anakin can't help but groan a little at his words. He feels Obi-Wan smile against his forehead, and it's then that Anakin knows what kind of night he is in for. Whenever Obi-Wan is in this mood, taking charge without being asked to do so, Anakin feels like the luckiest man in the Galaxy.
He allows Obi-Wan to maneuver them around until he is lying underneath him, Obi-Wan's body firmly pressed into his. Anakin curses when Obi-Wan straddles his thigh and grinds against him. He loves feeling his Master hard against him as much as he loves when Obi-Wan fucks him, or lets Anakin suck him off. There are too many good things to choose the best from, so Anakin has long ago given up the search for it. Depending on the day, it might be this or that, or something else entirely.
"You deserve something nice for your bravery," Obi-Wan whispers, his eyes halfway closed in concentration and pleasure. "What do you want?"
"I—uh," Anakin hisses in a sharp breath when Obi-Wan pulls his robes over his head and throws the garment to the side, exposing his chest and stomach. There is a new scar forming just above his left hipbone, a faint white ridge that Anakin forgets the origin of. He reaches out and lets his fingers hover over the spot, Obi-Wan's question momentarily pushed to the back of his mind.
"What?" Obi-Wan asks, then notices Anakin's hand. "Oh, that. It was nothing, really. Just a scrape."
"It doesn't look like noth—Force, Master," he finishes on a groan, because Obi-Wan grabs him through his trousers, cupping his half hard cock and giving him a few squeezes.
"You didn't answer my question, dear one," he says with a wicked grin, not letting Anakin go.
"Just keep doing that," he manages, and mewls when Obi-Wan pulls his hand away.
"Are you sure?"
Sure. When has Anakin ever been sure about anything in his life? But he can't say that right now, and he also can't ask his Master to kiss him again until Anakin can taste his spit in his own mouth, until he can swallow it and pretend that it's his, or better yet, that they kiss for so long that he gets the chance to lick into every part of Obi-Wan's mouth, over every last teeth (and even if that might not be physically possible, well, then Anakin would still give it his best shot regardless) and every inch of skin.
But all he says is, "I am."
So Obi-Wan indulges him, jerks him off with deft fingers and movements that seem designed to drive Anakin to the brink of sanity, and somehow, they manage to come at the same time, Anakin with his hand clapped over his mouth to keep himself from screaming and Obi-Wan panting above him, sweat gathering on his forehead.
When Anakin looks up at him through hazy eyes, he licks his bottom lip, and Anakin swears he almost comes again right then and there, just from seeing Obi-Wan's pink tongue poking out like this.
They're eating breakfast together one morning not long after they get back from the Alaris system, and looking at it from an outsider's perspective, Anakin guesses that they could be any two people in the galaxy sitting at the same table, sharing food and talking about nothing in particular, any morning at any time. But he also thinks that there is something special about them, something more that others just don't have, and even if they had it, they would never really understand or know what to do with it.
Obi-Wan has the unmatched ability to make Anakin feel that he can, though. They both can, with Obi-Wan's help, a guiding hand through whatever it is they're doing.
Slowly chewing a piece of Jogan fruit, its flesh for some reason more red than purple, Anakin just drinks in the peace of the moment, away from war, battles, commanders and orders. Away from starships, even though he misses those sometimes during leave. But if he had to choose between hopping onto a ship or spending the rest of the day with Obi-Wan, he knows what he would pick. He stares at his Master as he eats and takes a sip of his tea, and suddenly Anakin's ears perk up.
"You have something there—no, more on the right, up, up—yeah, right there."
"Thank you, Padawan, but that is not food," Obi-Wan says.
"Huh?"
"It's just a grey spot. I saw it yesterday while I was in the fresher, it's perfectly normal at my age."
Anakin scrunches up his nose. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am very sure. Now are you going to finish your breakfast, or do you want something else?"
He looks pointedly at Anakin's half-eaten sandwich and the bits of fresh fruit he picked out earlier. Anakin pokes the bread with his fork and moves it around the plate, lost in thought for a moment.
"I don't think I like these very much," he says eventually, pointing to a handful of bright red berries. Obi-Wan reaches out and takes one, popping it into his mouth without a word. Anakin can't help but stare at his mouth as he chews, and they both swallow at the same time.
"Hm," Obi-Wan says. "They are a bit sour, aren't they?"
"Uh, I guess." Now Obi-Wan definitely has something in his beard: a tiny drop of juice from the berry is sitting right underneath his lower lip, basically begging for Anakin to wipe it away with his finger, or lick it off. He feels a bit of wetness at his own chin suddenly, as if the red mark made it's way from Obi-Wan's to Anakin's face, or better yet, as if they shared twin spots like this. For years, as a child and then later as a teenager, Anakin tried and failed to find an identical physical feature between the two of them, a mole or a dimple, something special that no one else had in common. Now he looks at the spot for a moment too long, long enough for Obi-Wan to start grinning.
"What?"
"You really have something there," Anakin murmurs again, pointing to his own mouth.
"Why don't you take care of that for me?" Obi-Wan's voice drops dangerously low, and Anakin can feel heat begin to pool in his stomach. He reaches out across the table, but Obi-Wan leans back before he can touch him.
"We don't want you robes getting soiled," Obi-Wan admonishes him with a click of his tongue. "C'mere." And he pushes his chair back and pats his thigh, his intention more than clear, but Anakin's brain is not cooperating. All he can do is sit there and wonder how this became his life.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan says, and it's his tone that makes Anakin snap out of it, his mind taking a backseat while his body takes over. He almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to climb onto Obi-Wan's lap, and when he's more or less comfortable, he stares down at his Master's face.
"What is it?"
Anakin doesn't reply, but instead pushes his hips forward until his cock is pressed against Obi-Wan's. They both inhale sharply, all the blood again leaving Anakin's head, and he tries his best to act cool, as if he didn't come after five minutes last night and can still feel his Master buried inside him, but of course Obi-Wan is the one to recover first.
"My sweet boy," he coos, his hands sliding across Anakin's back until they reach his ass. When his fingers dig in only slightly, Anakin lets his head fall forward onto Obi-Wan's shoulder.
"Master," he begs, unsure of what exactly it is he is asking for. But of course Obi-Wan understands.
"Look at me, Anakin." He does, sniffling slightly, but he manages to hold Obi-Wan's gaze. Neither of them says anything for a moment, but that somehow seems to do the trick for Anakin. He leans down, angling his face to catch Obi-Wan's mouth before he can pull away again, and sighs into the kiss when his Master opens up for him almost immediately. Anakin pushes his tongue against Obi-Wan's, a shudder wracking through his entire body, but Obi-Wan's hands keep him steady as they always do.
"Now," Obi-Wan says when he pulls away, "how about you get me cleaned up, and then we can take care of this?" He pushes Anakin down against him again, the friction enough to make Anakin gasp, even through all their layers of clothing.
"Yes," he manages to say, cupping Obi-Wan's face to get him to hold still. Anakin starts by kissing him again, lightly and with as much self control as he can. Obi-Wan lets him and doesn't move, except to tighten his fingers in Anakin's tabards, his way of saying go on. When Anakin reaches the red patch, he opens his mouth against it, wide enough to take Obi-Wan's bottom lip between his own again, and sucks, pushing his tongue against his Master's beard, the scratch too good to pass up.
Obi-Wan's grip on him becomes almost painful for a moment, but then he relaxes, practically melting into Anakin, and when Obi-Wan moans against his lips, Anakin could swear that he can feel his soul ascend to a different plane of existence. He tastes so sweet, a faint trace of tea and the salted crackers he loves so much but would never admit to enjoying mingling with the fruit on his tongue, and Anakin wants to drink him up, keep that taste and his smell bottled up forever so that he can gorge himself on it and get drunk on Obi-Wan whenever he's not around.
But he is around right now, and Anakin is going to take full advantage of that. He smiles at the thought that Obi-Wan, indulgent as he sometimes gets with him, is probably thinking the exact same thing right now. This is their unbroken circle, the lothcat running after its own tail, never tiring of it, never getting sick of the chase. Because after all, the tail is part of the cat. They belong together: a natural fact, set in stone and unshakably true.
If Anakin knew how this night was going to go and what would come after it, he would have forced himself to talk to Obi-Wan about this earlier. Way, way earlier. As it stands, he didn't, but waited until he felt it was the 'right moment', whatever that means. And he knows he shouldn't overthink it, that he did manage to ask and that Obi-Wan agreed, and now here they are, Obi-Wan leaning back on the sofa, Anakin kneeling between his legs, mouthing at his cock, and to all hells with these thoughts of what if or if only I had asked sooner.
"Very good, Padawan," Obi-Wan is saying above him, but his voice is still too level for Anakin's liking. He licks one long strip from his balls all the way to the tip, sucking a pearl of precome off of it for good measure. He smiles to himself when Obi-Wan hisses in a breath and runs his hand through Anakin's hair. "Now take it into your mouth, that's it. Yes, Anakin, ah, just like that."
He trails off and sinks deeper into the cushions, and this is all the encouragement Anakin needs to try and swallow him down as deeply as he can. But of course it's too much at once, and he gags sooner than he wants to, draws back to get his bearings and half afraid to look at Obi-Wan again, because the last thing he needs right now is an admonition, or worse, disappointment.
So he dives back in after a second or two, kissing along a vein until he can close his lips around the head again.
"Not so fast this time," Obi-Wan says, and Anakin can feel his ears burn. He tries to nod without choking himself on Obi-Wan's cock again, and slows down, relaxing when he can feel his Master's hand tightening in his hair, as if he wants to guide him like this, too.
And even though there is a part inside himself that hates the fact that he needs to learn, that he can't just do this intuitively, without thinking about it, he leans into Obi-Wan's touch gratefully and follows his lead, moaning when Obi-Wan tells him that yes, that is exactly it, he should keep going like that. Pride swells in his chest, threatening to spill over into his lungs, and he grabs the base of Obi-Wan's cock and holds on as if his life depends on it.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan says, a warning in his tone, and at first he is afraid that he did something wrong again, but then he can feel how Obi-Wan is twitching in his mouth, and it makes him drool all over his length, the certainty that he is going to make Obi-Wan come just by sucking him off feeling like a drug entering his veins. His own erection is irrelevant for the moment, but he knows that his patience will be worth it in the end.
"I'm close, Padawan," Obi-Wan murmurs, and Anakin takes this as motivation to do even better, so he pulls off a bit to press and swirl his tongue against his Master's slit, drinking in every little noise that Obi-Wan makes. Lust, pure and heady, is radiating off of both of them into the Force, and Anakin wants to dive into this feeling and live in it forever, in this place that belongs only to Obi-Wan and him.
He wants Obi-Wan's come, and he wants it now, so Anakin does what he always loves Obi-Wan doing to him, and squeezes his shaft while giving him just the barest little kiss at the tip, suckling once, twice, and it works: Obi-Wan's hand grips his hair almost painfully hard, and he comes, fucking up into Anakin's mouth with an erratic snap of his hips. Anakin gags when he hits the back of his throat a bit too roughly, but he takes it as best he can, careful not to swallow.
"Your sweet mouth was made for this, d'you know that?" Obi-Wan says on a sharp exhale. "You look so pretty with my cock stuffed inside it." He pauses, catches his breath. Then, "How does it taste?" he asks.
Anakin pulls away only reluctantly, and looks up at Obi-Wan with what he knows is a completely fucked out expression. And if Obi-Wan's reaction is anything to go by, it has its intended effect.
"Come up here, dear one," he says, and pulls Anakin off of the floor and onto his lap. "What is it?" he asks when they're face to face, studying him as if Anakin was showing signs of sickness.
Instead of replying, Anakin slowly leans in and lets the tip of his tongue peek out from between his lips, some of Obi-Wan's spend on it. His cheeks heat up in embarrassment when Obi-Wan leans back and out of reach, but he doesn't push Anakin away in disgust. After a beat, his eyes turn from skeptical to intrigued, and finally to fascinated. He nods and opens up ever so slightly, just wide enough for Anakin to slip his tongue inside, pushing Obi-Wan's come into his mouth.
Anakin feels as if his head is going to explode as he first feels Obi-Wan suck it all off, and then watches him swallow without hesitation, but with a sigh that makes him sound as if he just tasted the most delicious dish he could think of ordering in the best restaurant in the Galaxy. He stares at Obi-Wan: if he was willing to do this, what else would he be open to trying?
"Can you spit in my mouth?" Anakin asks without thinking. Obi-Wan blinks, with the expression of someone pulled out of a particularly nice reverie.
"What?" he says in a rough voice, as if he was the one who just had a cock in his mouth. Anakin backpedals immediately, an apology ready, but Obi-Wan puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him, calm him down.
"Forget about it," Anakin rushes to say before Obi-Wan can speak. His entire body feels as if it's burning, and he starts to squirm involuntarily.
"No, Anakin, listen to me. I—I understand what you're asking. But you have to be sure about it."
His tone is so earnest that it kills the mood for Anakin in an instant, which is a feat that he didn't even think was possible. Anakin visibly deflates and makes to stand up, but Obi-Wan grabs him again, this time by the hips, and then taps his nose with one finger.
"Listen to me," he repeats. "Do you know what you're asking here?"
"Yes," Anakin says in a small voice.
"Do you really?"
"Master, I said yes! Can we please talk about this some other time?" Desperation is creeping into his tone, and Anakin hates himself for it. Obi-Wan always wants to talk everything through, but once or twice, Anakin managed to be let off the hook, if only for a day or so. When he sees Obi-Wan's eyes soften, he can feel another victory just around the corner.
"We can. But we will talk about it, all right?"
Anakin nods, and only then notices that his cock has gone soft; he and Obi-Wan glance down towards it at the same time, and his Master's face is suddenly lit up by a sly smile that is all teeth.
Two weeks pass after that incident, two long weeks which have both of them tangled up in intel work for a mission which they don't end up going on, Anakin's usual classes in the Temple, training sessions and every other minutia of their lives. And through it all, Anakin does his best to pretend as if everything is normal, as if he didn't feel more embarrassed about his question and Obi-Wan's reaction than he ever did about anything else in his life, or at least about anything in recent memory.
When they spend time alone, Obi-Wan always finds a way not to make it about sex, or at least that's what Anakin thinks he is doing. He might be reading too much into his behavior, but Obi-Wan seems avoidant. The only upside is that it doesn't seem to be solely directed towards him. One day, he saw his Master talking to Mace Windu, and even then he looked distracted and out of it. Anakin didn't hear what Master Windu said to him, but his expression told him more than enough: this was not what Obi-Wan was usually like.
So naturally, Anakin begins searching for a way to make amends. His first idea is to just talk to Obi-Wan, but that is discarded as soon as he sits down and tries to come up with a way to approach him.
Hey, I know that you said I had to be sure about what I was asking, and I'd like to say that I am, but really, it was just something that popped into my head, so maybe I am not all that sure? Absolutely not.
For starters, it would be a lie. Anakin can admit to himself that he thought about Obi-Wan doing something like this to him for a long time now. He can't pinpoint the exact moment it started, but he knows what he wants: Obi-Wan's spit, in his mouth, from more than just kissing. He feels himself blush violently just thinking about it now.
Then there is the matter of him being sure. Does it make him sure because he fantasizes about it? At what point can he really say that he is sure of anything? He's sure he loves Obi-Wan, even though he has never said it out loud. That makes him pause.
He loves Obi-Wan. A groan escapes him when he can feel his stomach flutter at the thought, and he puts his head in his hands, sweat gathering at the base of his neck and under his arms. He can't just go to his Master and confess his feelings to him, can he? Because the possibility that Obi-Wan might not feel the same way is too bleak to even think about. Of course, Anakin knows that there are some things they are on the same page about, but what if this is the final line? Obi-Wan might say that it goes against the Code, that fucking is allowed but this is too much.
But no, he decides. Obi-Wan wouldn't be so cruel. He has to know what Anakin is really feeling. Or does he?
"Fucking bantha shit," Anakin mutters to himself, now pacing up and down in his room. He kicks his bed when he passes it, but mistimes the movement of his foot. A sharp pain shoots up his leg from where he hit his little toe, and he lets out a sound that is half gasp and half shout.
"Anakin?"
Obi-Wan should be in the training halls, he said so himself when they met earlier. So what is he doing just outside of Anakin's door? Panic creeps up his throat: did he somehow hear what Anakin was thinking? He didn't bother to close their bond, so he might have. Hopping on one foot, Anakin calls out, "I'm fine, don't worry about it," even though he can hear how thin his voice sounds.
The door opens with a quiet whoosh, and Anakin can't even find it in him to be mad. The sight of Obi-Wan usually has that effect on him.
"What happened?"
"My foot," Anakin says, as if that explains everything.
"Do you want me to take a look at it?"
"No," he says quickly, sitting down on the edge of his offending bed. He can see Obi-Wan watching him out of the corner of his eye.
Silence stretches between them. When Anakin finally musters up enough courage to look up, Obi-Wan clears his throat at the exact same moment.
"I wanted to—talk about something with you," he says, and alarm bells go off inside Anakin's head. This is probably the worst possible timing Obi-Wan has shown in all the years Anakin has known him. But he forces himself to nod, even though he wants to do nothing more than stop his ears with his fingers and pretend that everything is fine.
Obi-Wan lets a few seconds pass, and in that short amount of time, his expression undergoes several changes, from awkward to determined to something that Anakin did not expect: cockiness.
"Why did you ask me to spit in your mouth, Padawan?"
The air in the room shifts, and Anakin forgets all about his toe. He stares at Obi-Wan, and realizes too late that his mouth his hanging slightly open. He closes it harder than he planned, and the sound of his teeth clicking together is too loud in the small space.
"I don't know," he says, trying to buy himself some time. But Obi-Wan is not to be fooled.
"You don't know." It's not a question. "Do you want to hear my theory?"
"Uh-huh." His head is spinning, and he feels unmoored. He has never seen this side of Obi-Wan, but now, with these pieces falling together, he thinks he can remember glimpses of it, in bed but also just in their day to day lives, a commanding, no nonsense attitude that has Anakin follow at his heels like a dog.
"I think you asked me that to test me. No, don't interrupt. I don't mean that in a negative way. Just that you are always testing yourself, your limits, your capabilities. It's a habit, and not a bad one. So it's only natural that you'd apply that to other people as well."
He stares at Anakin, who doesn't shrink underneath his gaze. Anakin can't say that he's wrong, but he also can't agree either. Obi-Wan takes a step closer to the bed, and Anakin leans back on instinct.
"So? What do you think?"
"I—uh, I don't know. Honestly, I don't know."
"Why don't we find out, then?" And without another word, Obi-Wan climbs onto the bed with him, forcing Anakin to move so they don't get their limbs tangled up. Heat blossoms in his chest when Obi-Wan leans down to lick at Anakin's neck, and he gasps when he feels his teeth scraping along his skin, gently biting him just beneath his ear.
"Master," he forces out, his hands clawing at Obi-Wan's tunic. His scent is stronger than usual, and Anakin wonders if he did applied something, a lotion or a perfume, just for him. Obi-Wan must know how much his natural smell turns him on, the layers of sweetness and musk that always make him think of a fancy nightclub for some reason: smoke and dark liquor, a heady, almost dangerous atmosphere.
"Yes, Padawan? Is there something you want from me?"
Obi-Wan nips at his earlobe while his hands pull Anakin's robes open, far enough that he can slip his fingers underneath his tunic to roam across Anakin's stomach, then his chest. He pinches one of his nipples and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger until Anakin is mewling, but he still waits for a response.
"I—ah, fuck, Master, please, I want your cock, please," he manages, trailing off when Obi-Wan moves on to his other nipple. He could swear that he sees stars for a moment right then and there, because Obi-Wan chooses this moment to grind his hips down into Anakin's, and when he feels how hard he is already, Anakin's eyes roll back in his head.
"You can have it. But I thought you'd ask for my spit again." Obi-Wan pulls back, and Anakin follows his movements with heavy eyes. "Since you were so eager before."
"I was?"
"Please," Obi-Wan laughs, with a slightly disbelieving edge to the sound. "You know, I started thinking about it after you asked. And I remembered how you love to stick your tongue into my mouth, or your fingers."
Anakin is painfully hard by now, rutting against Obi-Wan's crotch without consciously having decided to do so. But Obi-Wan doesn't stop him, so he doesn't either.
"Aw, look at you blushing. I thought we were past that."
"Sorry," Anakin tries, but Obi-Wan just kisses his cheek before running his tongue across Anakin's skin. "Fuck, Master," he moans.
"Don't apologize, dear one. I like it when you do that. Now, where were we? Oh yes."
His hand is toying with the waistband of Anakin's pants by now, and he dips it inside for just a moment, only letting his knuckles brush the head of Anakin's cock. He cries out from this alone, and Obi-Wan shushes him.
"So I thought, why not give my sweet boy what he wants? Since he is always so good for his Master."
He takes Anakin in his hand as he says this, and when Anakin meets his eyes, he squeezes, a bit too hard, but it does the trick. Anakin's mouth falls open, and Obi-Wan cups his jaw with his free hand, presses his thumb onto Anakin's bottom lip, and spits in his mouth, one quick move that still feels to Anakin as if time is standing still until it hits his tongue. He doesn't know what his face is doing when he tries to swallow with Obi-Wan still holding him like this, but Obi-Wan's reaction is enough to make him wish he could take a holo vid of this moment to rewatch again and again until he gets tired of it, which, realistically, would be never.
"Anakin," he groans, releases him only to kiss him before Anakin can draw breath. Obi-Wan shoves his tongue against his, licking into his mouth almost violently. Anakin claws at his back, manages to get his legs out from under him to wrap them around Obi-Wan's hips, and he moans into the kiss when Obi-Wan bites his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. And it's only then that he pulls away, both of them breathing heavily, and Anakin knows he is leaking precome all over himself and into his underwear at the sight of his Master's wet lips, a string of saliva stuck in his beard, practically begging for Anakin to wipe it away and suck it off of his fingers.
Obi-Wan doesn't speak for once, but maneuvers them around until he can pull Anakin's trousers and underwear down, Anakin helping as best he can despite feeling light headed and completely fucked out already. He watches lazily as Obi-Wan pulls his cock free from his own clothes, and the sight of it, red and thick and perfect, has his mouth water again.
"Please," he begs, and Obi-Wan nods.
"Of course, dear one," he says, and pops open a bottle of bacta that Anakin didn't even notice was around until now. He screws his eyes shut when two of Obi-Wan's fingers pat his rim, and he twitches, making Obi-Wan laugh breathlessly.
"Are you so eager to have your little hole played with?" he teases, and Anakin has to force himself to nod.
"Master," he groans, and Obi-Wan shushes him again as he pushes his fingers in, both at the same time, like he knows Anakin can take it. And he can. Even though he tenses up when Obi-Wan starts moving, they both know that it will only be a matter of time until Anakin relaxes enough for him to go faster, and when he does, Obi-Wan immediately finds the perfect angle to hit Anakin's sweet spot again and again.
"That's it, Anakin, taking my fingers so well already. I know you want my cock, but I just love how you look like this. How do you feel, darling? Do your Master's fingers feel good in your tight little ass?"
"You know—ah, you know you do. They. I—fuck, Master, please fuck me, please, please, please." He is crying by now, but he doesn't care. Everything feels too good to care, Obi-Wan fingering him open, his own cock wet and making a mess on his stomach, the taste of Obi-Wan's spit still on his tongue; and it's this thought that makes him clench around Obi-Wan's fingers, hard, and for a second, Anakin fears that he is going to come. His eyes fly open just as Obi-Wan makes to pull out, and he must see the panic in Anakin's face because he immediately sobers up.
"Are you all right?"
Anakin swallows thickly and can feel his cheeks heat up. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I just, uh." He winces when Obi-Wan's fingers slip out of him. "I didn't want to come already," he rushes out, and Obi-Wan grins.
"Oh, don't worry about that," he says. He's barely out of breath while Anakin feels as if he just ran for three miles without pause. "Don't I know how to make you last?"
"You do," Anakin admits. Then he moans when Obi-Wan grabs himself, giving his cock a few pumps with his bacta slick fingers. He pulls his knees up to give him enough room, and Obi-Wan leans across him and down, put he doesn't push in yet.
"Open up, Padawan," he whispers, and when Anakin does, he spits in his mouth again and nudges his hole at the same time.
It's a small miracle that they both don't come right there, Anakin thinks; it's the last coherent thing that enters his brain, because as soon as Obi-Wan is buried inside of him, all of his focus centers on his body, Obi-Wan's body, the place where they're conjoined, and how good he feels, how much he feels. It's always the same and yet totally new every time.
Obi-Wan seems to think along the same lines, because he catches Anakin's eye again, and says, "Third time's the charm," just as Anakin opens his mouth again.
When his spit lands on Anakin's tongue, he stops caring about finishing already. It feels like a gift from him, and Anakin swallows on a moan and lets go, filled with the knowledge that Obi-Wan will take care of him no matter what. This trust, this unwavering confidence, is his way of returning that gift, and he is certain that Obi-Wan understands, and accepts it. Another circle for them to draw, Anakin thinks, and to draw again and again. Always different, and always the same.