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Obi-Wan liked his rooms cold when he slept. The temperature was programmed to drop a few degrees in the late evening, lining up with his preferred bedtime. He hardly ever got to bed at that time these days, with his recent ascension to the Council, not to mention the Force-forsaken war that kept him several parsecs away from his literal bed most nights. When he was on Coruscant, his rooms were already well-chilled by the time he dragged himself back to them after long days of Council meetings and strategy planning sessions. It wasn’t a terrible inconvenience, it only meant he was that much more grateful to climb into his bed and warm up.
Tonight, it also meant that Obi-Wan kept his quilt pulled up to his chin as he masturbated under it.
He was on his side, one leg straight with the other pulled up and bent, which gave him just enough space to reach behind himself and fuck his favorite dildo into his hole. It was modeled after a Quarren and chosen not because Obi-Wan was particularly attracted to the species, but because when he had seen the dildo during one of his more shameful holo-net rabbit holes, his cock stirred immediately at the sight of it, and his hole had clenched around the two fingers he had stuffed inside of himself. It wasn’t particularly long, about the same length as Obi-Wan’s own cock, but it was certainly thick, intimidatingly so. At least it was when he had first gotten it. Now, it was as familiar to his ass as his own hand, even with all of its strange ridges and scales, and the slight curl to it. After fucking himself on it more times than he could count, Obi-Wan still didn’t feel a particular attraction towards Quarrens as a whole, but whenever he met a male of the species, his mind couldn’t help but wonder if their cock was just as fat as the one he kept hidden in his rooms at the Temple.
The only thing he was certain of being unrealistic was the pale, translucent pink shade to it. There had been other colors to choose from, but Obi-Wan had liked the pink. For some reason, it made the toy so much more lewd, which only turned him on more. The sight of it, jelly-like and obscene, had Obi-Wan sighing with contentment as if he’d seen a long-lost friend when he’d taken it out of his hiding place in his closet. It also made his cock twitch. He’d been hard since he’d arrived back at his rooms, knowing his plans. And he had stayed hard throughout his water-sonic, brushing his teeth, and a short session of meditation. By the time Obi-Wan had slipped underneath his sheets, naked and nearly dizzy with arousal, he knew it was not going to be a long affair. Which was probably for the best; like every other day, he had to be up early tomorrow.
Adjusting his grip on the base of the toy, Obi-Wan fucked it inside of himself harder, rocking his ass back onto it. It messed with the rhythm, but he couldn’t help it. He was needy. Stroking his cock to completion was a rarity these days, and playing with his hole was a downright luxury. He had missed it desperately. There was nothing as satisfying as having his ass stretched and filled. With a groan, Obi-Wan turned his face into his pillow, rubbing his beard against it and capturing the fabric between his teeth, wetting it with his drool. The curled end of the dildo grazed his prostate over and over.
“S’good,” Obi-Wan mumbled incoherently to no one, mouth still biting the pillow. His eyes rolled back as he dragged the toy out of himself slowly, feeling his ass flutter around it, then shoved it back in harshly. He let out a broken whimper. “Fuck, oh, fuck.”
He was getting close. The way his attention was drawn to his ignored cock told him that. Only as his orgasm began to creep up on him did he ever remember it existed when he fucked himself. He imagined it under the sheets, drooling and hard as durasteel. The most base part of himself longed to take it in hand and tug himself to completion, but the rest of Obi-Wan knew that continuing to ignore it would only make his eventual anal orgasm all the more satisfying. He was a perfectionist in all things, and a long time ago he had pondered that if he couldn’t make himself come with just his hole being played with, was it really a successful endeavor? And he had come to the conclusion that no, it wasn’t, and had trained his ass and mind until coming from the sole sensation of being fucked was as well-practiced as his lightsaber forms.
Pillow still caught between his teeth, Obi-Wan’s breath started to come out harsh, and with every exhale came a quiet, reedy sound of want. The eyes that had rolled back now fluttered shut. He tried not to lose his pace, legs beginning to quiver. Hips rocking back and forth, Obi-Wan humped the air before shoving himself back on the dildo, toes curling as the tension in his groin wound tighter, tighter, tighter…
A noise made him stop dead in his tracks, and for a split second he feared he would tumble over the edge and come anyway, but the realization that it was the main entry door to his rooms that made the sound, along with his subsequent panic, made his orgasm retreat enough that he was no longer in danger of that. He was, however, in a different kind of danger. Obi-Wan laid under his sheets and quilt, frozen, mind still foggy with arousal and unable to come up with a plan on how to deal with the footsteps that were quickly coming toward his bedroom door. Only when it began to slide open did he do anything, and at that point, all Obi-Wan could do was close his eyes that had snapped open, and pretend to be asleep. That, and hope his arm that was tucked around his body, still holding the base of the dildo, was made less obvious by the darkness and his covers.
Of course, it was Anakin. No one else would come into his rooms unannounced.
Worry replaced arousal at the forefront of his mind, the rush of it an instinctual response after what had to be hundreds of nights at this point of Anakin coming to him in the middle of the night. Not once since he was nine, all the way up to now, as a freshly-knighted Jedi, had Anakin done so for a good reason. It had been quite a while since the last incident. Obi-Wan had thought the amputation of Anakin’s arm would’ve been cause for the boy to crawl back into his bed, but Anakin never had. Shamefully, Obi-Wan wondered what—who—was helping him cope without his former Master.
But, perhaps no one was; Anakin was here now.
“Master,” Anakin spoke quietly.
Obi-Wan had a precedent of being a light sleeper—most Jedi were—so he could not ignore him. He slowly opened his eyes. “Anakin?” He asked, and he felt the wet smear of his spit-soaked pillow against his cheekbone. “What is it?”
The dildo in his ass remained, thick and unyielding, stretching Obi-Wan’s rim. His hole still fluttered around it. He could not think of a single thing to do about it, nor could he stray for a single moment from the well-rehearsed act of Anakin seeking comfort in his bed, which they never spoke about in the light of day. If he hesitated even for a second, Anakin would pick up on it. So, Obi-Wan did as he always had. When Anakin shuffled on his feet and asked, “Can I sleep here?” Obi-Wan did not deny him.
“Of course. Does something trouble you?”
He watched in sheer terror as Anakin rounded the bed, and prayed to the Force that when he lifted the quilt and slid under it, it would not expose his nakedness.
Without fanfare, Anakin took off his boots and got into the bed. Obi-Wan tried not to let his sigh of relief be too loud. He felt guilt as he watched his former Padawan get comfortable, because he wanted very badly for this to be one of the times Anakin would not want to talk about whatever was going on in his head that was preventing him from sleeping. Usually, that behavior drove Obi-Wan mad, but tonight, he wished for it, with no small amount of shame.
“Just…” Anakin sighed, laying on his stomach, arms drawn up under the pillow and his head turned toward Obi-Wan. “Ferus, again.”
The side Obi-Wan laid on had him facing Anakin, which he supposed was better than the alternative, because to maintain normality, he would have to turn around so he could face Anakin, and he had no idea how he would have managed that with the toy inside of him. Even now, he hardly dared to move. The amount of lubrication he had used made sure every single shift of the dildo was accompanied by a wet, distinctly sexual sound. If Obi-Wan weren’t sure it would produce an obscene squelch, he’d just let the toy slide out of him and rest on the mattress, where he would spend the whole night making sure it would not roll and thud to the floor. But Obi-Wan was sure it would produce an obscene squelch, unfortunately. And speaking of lubricant, he was half-sure his bottle was tangled in the sheets somewhere, which further horrified him.
Obi-Wan internally prayed that he had been smart enough to at least tuck it under his own pillow, and told himself that the safest place for the dildo, the one place it would not be discovered, was inside of him. Somehow, the shoddy platitudes steadied him enough to continue speaking to Anakin, despite how his cock hadn’t completely softened.
“I thought the two of you had come to an understanding. Even if that understanding was to stay out of each other’s way,” he said. His palms were sweating, and he had to adjust his grip on the base of the fake Quarren cock, which moved it just enough for his prostate to be nudged. Obi-Wan coughed to cover up the facial expression that came with the sensation, along with the wanton sound that hung in his throat.
Anakin huffed. “That was before. Now I’m a Jedi Knight, and he’s still a Padawan. And he can’t stand it, I know he can’t. He’s jealous.”
Obi-Wan very much regretted readjusting his grip. The dildo now casually rested against his prostate, and he thought if he moved it, even in search of relief, the chance that it could make the problem worse was not worth taking. So he suffered, prostate subtly stimulated, his simmering arousal that had been put on the back-burner now starting to spark into something much hotter again. Again, his focus drew to the stretch of his hole and the thick, satisfying fullness of the fat cock stuffed inside it.
All he could manage to say to Anakin was, “Ah. I see.” At least his voice did not betray his state of desperation.
Anakin’s face, that held an expression of tired irritation, shifted, and Obi-Wan wanted to kick himself. Eyes narrowing, mouth quirking in confusion, Anakin looked at him strangely. “That’s it?” He asked, white teeth flashing in the dark room as he let out a laugh that held a lot of suspicion for how small of a sound it really was. “No reprimand?”
Obi-Wan did his best to keep the panic out of his own expression, which wasn’t as hard as it should’ve been. His eyes could not help but stay half-lidded with how turned on he was; a problem in and of itself. Trying to come up with an answer that would settle Anakin, Obi-Wan looked at his former Padawan, and it occurred to him that Anakin had become quite handsome. The thought mortified him more than the dildo in his ass, and he shifted uncomfortably, which of course just increased the pressure on his prostate. Obi-Wan’s cock was fully hard again under the sheets.
If he could’ve just reached out and stroked Anakin’s hair, it would’ve shut him right up, made him forget he’d even asked Obi-Wan a question. But Obi-Wan couldn’t do that, even with his hand that wasn’t holding his dildo. Anakin had always been one to take a parsec after being given a nanometer, and would undoubtedly shuffle for more physical affection if Obi-Wan gave him any, which would of course lead him to discovering—at the very least—that his former Master was completely naked.
With no great options, Obi-Wan tried to deflect. “It has been a long day, Anakin. I’m too tired to scold you. You’re more than welcome to remind me tomorrow, though.”
Anakin laughed and rolled his eyes, but when they landed on Obi-Wan’s face again, the suspicion in his gaze hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had grown.
Obi-Wan swallowed thickly.
“Are you feeling alright?” Anakin asked slowly.
“Of course,” Obi-Wan answered immediately, before realizing that was a very unnatural way to answer the question. He might as well have followed it with I’m lying.
Annoyance slowly verged with the suspicion on Anakin’s face. “I’m serious, Obi-Wan. I’m not your Padawan anymore. You—you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”
The annoyance was apparently infectious, because Obi-Wan, cock hard and ass full with no relief in sight, couldn’t help himself from replying, extremely dryly, “That’s very comforting.”
And then, the annoyance—Obi-Wan’s, at least—was gone, because Anakin sat up on the bed, and the shifting of weight on the mattress tweaked the angle of Obi-Wan’s hand, the dildo pressing into him the slightest bit deeper. He just barely managed to stifle the groan that wanted to fall from his mouth.
Staying on his side while Anakin stared down at him, a storm brewing in his expression, would be even further cause for suspicion, so Obi-Wan braced himself, sucking in a sharp breath, before sitting up quickly, taking his hand off the base of the toy at the last second. His own weight, the mattress, and the dildo’s flared base kept it inside of him. Many times, Obi-Wan had actually enjoyed this position; sitting on his fake Quarren cock, not lifting himself at all, simply relishing the sensation of being filled up, swiveling his hips now and then.
Unfortunately, even in this circumstance, his body still very much enjoyed the position, despite his mind trying—and failing—to pump the brakes of his arousal. Face burning, Obi-Wan took the smallest comfort in the fact that he’d drawn his knees up when he’d moved, so at least his cock wasn’t tenting the sheets. The dildo sunk deeper as he sat up, pushing right against his prostate with much more force than before. This time, there was no covering up the noise that came out of him, but at this point, it sounded closer to pain than pleasure.
Anakin made a sound of his own, like he was offended at hearing Obi-Wan’s. From years of experience, Obi-Wan knew it was just concern, but that wasn’t much better, given the situation.
“What the hell was that?” Anakin asked incredulously, gesturing to him.
“It’s nothing,” Obi-Wan said weakly.
With another sound, this one rife with frustration, Anakin tossed the covers off of himself and got out of the bed. The quilt had slid down too far to recover, but Obi-Wan’s lap remained covered by the sheet, his hard cock still undetectable because of his bent knees.
“You’re ridiculous,” Anakin said, walking toward the door without a glance back.
It was a perfect out. Obi-Wan should have taken it, but after so many years, trying to smooth things over with Anakin was reflexive. Obi-Wan couldn’t just let him walk away, cross with his former Master and not having received the comfort he came for.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan pleaded softly. “I’m fine. Come back to bed.”
Anakin turned around, and Obi-Wan heaved a sigh of relief, which had his hole relaxing around the dildo, before it tightened up again and he stifled a shiver. Apparently, though, he did not stifle it very well.
“Are you injured?” Anakin asked, stepping closer to the foot of the bed.
The urge to roll his eyes welled up in Obi-Wan. He supposed Anakin’s constant accusations about hiding injuries and refusing medical attention was his own fault; Obi-Wan had done those exact things, many times, typically because he did not want to worry or hinder his Padawan with worrying about him, nor did he ever want to waste supplies on himself when Anakin may end up needing them. Since the start of the war, Anakin’s somewhat endearing questioning about such matters had became somewhat grating.
“No.” It was probably the most convincing Obi-Wan had sounded all night.
Tilting his head, Anakin challenged, “Prove it.”
Obi-Wan would’ve said he went cold with mortification, but due to how unwaveringly turned on he still was, it only gave him a slight chill.
“What?”
“Stand up,” Anakin said, flicking his hand to match his words. “Show me nothing’s wrong, Obi-Wan.”
It was silent for a long moment, long enough that Obi-Wan knew that the lack of retort on his part would just raise alarm bells for Anakin even further. Still, he was trapped, and pitifully hoped Anakin would simply get frustrated enough to turn on his heel and actually leave this time. Even more pitifully, Obi-Wan had to hope he would let Anakin leave this time, which he was embarrassingly still unsure if could actually do.
Of course, though, this had to be one of the rare times where Anakin’s patience wasn’t so easily worn out. He stood and stared at Obi-Wan for what seemed to be an eternity. Eventually, Obi-Wan was sure that if he did not break the silence, the next thing that came out his mouth would be a moan, so he forced his brain to come up with something to say that wasn’t I need to come so bad. I’m going to start crying. Please leave. Wait, don’t go.
“A few months without my braid in your hair and you think you’ve the right to order me around, Anakin?”
But Anakin had not risen to the rank of Jedi Knight by being a fool. He knew a deflection when he saw one, unfortunately for Obi-Wan.
Anakin gritted, “That’s it,” before he came around to Obi-Wan’s side of the bed, reaching for the lamp on his side table.
When Obi-Wan twisted to try and stop him, his legs straightened out on the bed, but he was too preoccupied with making sure Anakin did not turn on that light, and with his ass clenching on the fat, fake cock inside of him, that he didn’t notice. Nor did he notice what Anakin’s other hand was reaching for.
And it was too late by the time he did. Anakin’s hand had twisted into the sheet that was the only thing shielding Obi-Wan’s naked body. As he pulled it off the bed, it dragged along the wet tip of Obi-Wan’s cock.
Obi-Wan jolted and turned. It had happened too fast for him to do anything about it, and all he could do was watch his cock leave a damp trail of pre-come on the white sheet before it was gone, and he was entirely exposed. Including his obscenely erect cock that had been begging for attention all night. Now, it had gotten just that, and Obi-Wan only had a second to realize that he was going to orgasm before he gasped out a wet, dirty sound, and his cock began to pulse, shooting ropes onto himself completely untouched.
Anakin stared.
Obi-Wan shoved his hands between his legs, trying not to touch himself and draw out his orgasm further while attempting to cover himself up.
“Don’t look,” he said quietly. His voice broke, and Obi-Wan’s shoulders curled in on himself. Where his hands hovered, his pulsing balls were grazed by his fingers. The tightening of his entire body in humiliation extended to his ass, which was already flexing around the dildo inside of him, milking it as it it were a real cock. His clenching only got more intense, so much so that he thought he might cry from the overstimulation of his prostate.
It had to be the lowest moment of his entire life. And yet, it still felt good. Horribly good. Deliciously good. Obi-Wan had missed coming with his favorite toy in his ass so badly. It had been so long.
And despite what Obi-Wan had said, Anakin was still looking.
No, not just looking. He stepped closer to the bed, and Obi-Wan flinched away. Dimly, Obi-Wan thought that the look in Anakin’s eye was probably more crazed than his own, which shouldn’t have been possible. When Anakin moved away again, Obi-Wan thought he had relented and was going to leave him to his shame, but instead, Anakin came around to the foot of the bed.
Then, he snatched Obi-Wan by the ankle. Looking between Obi-Wan’s legs first, then sliding his gaze back up to look his former Master in the eye. “You’ve been…” He trailed off.
Obi-Wan tried to scoot back. Anakin’s grip tightened, then it tugged, and Obi-Wan was flat on his back.
As the fake Quarren cock began to slip out of him, no longer kept in place by the mattress or his weight, Obi-Wan felt more in danger than he ever had during his many brushes with death. He went wide eyed and stared at the ceiling, body breaking out in a cold sweat as the image of the dildo falling limply to the mattress flashed before his eyes.
After a moment, he realized no real sensation of such a thing had accompanied the humiliating thought. The toy was still lodged in his ass, albeit not as deep, and he clenched around the small amount of it still inside of him. In confusion, Obi-Wan lifted his head, and immediately saw the even more humiliating reason for that.
Anakin’s hand was holding the base of the fake cock. He was keeping it inside of Obi-Wan. On purpose. He must have sensed Obi-Wan’s gaze on him, because his own shifted from between Obi-Wan’s legs to his face, and for an incredibly loaded second, they made eye contact. Obi-Wan was setting a new record for the amount of emotions he could put into one panting, ruddy expression; bewilderment, embarrassment, anxiety, trepidation, and his still lingering arousal.
Anakin, on the other hand, was singularly intense, growing even more so as he pushed the toy back inside of Obi-Wan completely.
A shiver wracked Obi-Wan’s body, and he whimpered as he glanced down, watching his cock spurt one last time, weak and watery.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, hands twisting in the sheets because he did not know what else to do with them. He didn’t know what to do with any part of himself. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“You were fucking yourself while I was in your bed,” Anakin said. There was aggression in his voice, but no disgust.
Still, Obi-Wan felt disgusting. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was before. I wasn’t…” It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, so he shut up, swallowing thickly and turning his head away.
Anakin obviously didn’t care for his excuses either, because he was back to staring between Obi-Wan’s legs, now musing aloud, “Force, Obi-Wan. This thing is huge.” He nudged the dildo an inch deeper, and Obi-Wan flinched, trying to close his legs. The cold durasteel of Anakin’s new arm clamped down on his thigh and stopped him.
“Shut up, Anakin,” Obi-Wan hissed. He hardly ever resorted to such juvenile words. Their utterance indicated Obi-Wan was in a very, very bad spot that he had little hope of getting out of—not that he wasn’t already aware of that.
The fake cock was pushed even deeper. It brushed Obi-Wan’s prostate, and when he attempted to say “Stop doing that,” it came out like a moan.
Anakin looked at his face again, and Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the corner of his former Padawan’s mouth twitch, like he was trying not to smirk. “Fine,” Anakin said. Then, in an entirely unusual move, he did exactly what Obi-Wan had told him to do. He released the toy.
Obi-Wan could do nothing but gasp in a desperate breath as he felt it slide out of his hole. If his mortification was not freezing him in place, he was still kept from moving by Anakin, who had put his now free hand on Obi-Wan’s other thigh, keeping his legs spread and putting his fluttering hole on display. He could feel it flexing, trying to close properly. From experience, he knew that would take some time after using the fake Quarren cock. It always left him gaping. Many times, Obi-Wan had wobbled over to his ‘fresher on shaky legs to clean up, and ended up hard again after he made the mistake of turning his ass toward the mirror and spreading himself open. He really only meant to check for any damage, but somehow the sight of his relaxed rim, slick and pink, always brought back his arousal ten-fold.
Now, he wished he had never looked, not even once, because it meant that he could picture very vividly what Anakin was looking at right now. Obi-Wan’s fucked open, puffy hole that was most likely leaking lubricant.
“Can I take a picture?” Anakin suddenly asked in a breathless voice.
Obi-Wan’s neck twinged in pain with how hard he snapped it up to glare at Anakin. “Are you insane?” He balked, his burning face contorting with indignance. They made eye contact again as Anakin lifted his gaze. Obi-Wan tried very hard to keep his eyes on his former Padawan, and not his own cock that was still obscenely hard between them.
“If I am, I must get it from you,” Anakin said slowly. “Were you planning to sleep with this inside of you?” He twisted the dildo just barely, and Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath and shut his eyes tight.
On the exhale, he replied, voice unsteady, “I was trying to be considerate. I could have turned you away.”
Anakin laughed softly. “I’m flattered, Master. Glad to know where I sit on your list of priorities.”
“Consider yourself knocked down a few pegs,” Obi-Wan told him. Anakin continued to fidget with the fake cock, pulling gasps and stifled curses out of Obi-Wan. “You’ve certainly spoiled all of your good will tonight, Anakin.”
Durasteel brushed the skin next to Obi-Wan’s hole, a hairsbreadth away from his rim.
“I don’t think I have,” Anakin said.
It had to be his thumb doing the touching, but Obi-Wan did not dare look. He clenched his eyes shut even tighter and shivered. “Anakin, please,” Obi-Wan whispered. His legs began to ache from all their shaking.
“Please what?”
“Please, don’t.”
For a moment, Obi-Wan was foolish enough to believe Anakin had actually listened to him, because the touch vanished. But then, the foolish moment was over, and of course, Anakin’s hand returned. The durasteel plate of Anakin’s thumb pressed right against his hole, easily being sucked inside by the continued twitching of Obi-Wan’s greedy ass. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth when his first thought was of how it was nowhere big enough to satisfy him.
“Why?” Anakin asked, acting as if he hadn’t already flaunted the order. “That orgasm couldn’t have been satisfying.”
Which was true. Not that it mattered.
Anakin’s thumb pushed at his rim, feeling out the stretch. “You must have really been pounding yourself with that thing before I showed up. Is that how you like it?”
Another correct assumption, but that didn’t matter either, no matter how Obi-Wan’s cock enjoyed the reminder. “Stop talking,” he said.
“I could do something else with my mouth.”
Obi-Wan finally had an idea of what to do with his hands when he saw Anakin begin to lower himself on the bed. He struck one out and pushed against Anakin’s forehead to prevent him from going any further down. So many tendencies of Obi-Wan’s that he’d acquired during his time as Anakin’s Master could not be shaken, no matter how many times he told himself Anakin was a Knight now. As his palm forced Anakin’s head away from him, he discovered yet another one that was still burrowed deep inside of himself. Anakin felt hot. Too hot. Obi-Wan wanted to kick himself for sparing a thought to whether or not his former Padawan might’ve been becoming ill, but the concern rose nonetheless, and the moment he took to consider if anyone else close to them had ran a fever recently was enough of an opening for Anakin. He snatched Obi-Wan’s wrist with his durasteel hand, and used the Force to wrench the other from the sheets so both wrists were entrapped in his unyielding clutch.
When Anakin shoved them against Obi-Wan’s chest, pinning them to his sternum and not letting up the aching pressure from his mech-hand, his bicep brushed Obi-Wan’s hard cock. Obi-Wan stared down at him, face contorted with the helplessness he felt. He considered kicking Anakin in the head, but knew he would never be able to bring himself to do so.
Anakin did not say another word. He didn’t need to. Unceremoniously, he used his flesh hand to shove Obi-Wan’s thighs further apart, then ducked down to lick his hole.
Obi-Wan made a warbling, distressed sound and bucked his hips. No one had ever done this to him before. He’d thought about it plenty, but never had anyone actually put their mouth on him there—or anywhere else, technically. All his imaginings hadn’t prepared him for how good it actually felt. Not even the humiliating circumstances could distract him from how much he liked feeling Anakin’s tongue laving over his rim. With his hands still pinned, Obi-Wan dug his fingernails into his palms, and tried not to moan as Anakin’s tongue slipped inside with ease, fucking in and out lazily before pulling back to say, “Gods, you’re so loose, Obi-Wan.”
The sound Obi-Wan made was not quite a moan, but his broken gasp of mortification definitely didn’t feel like a victory. “Don’t.”
Anakin’s mouth kissed and sucked at his hole. And Obi-Wan’s hole pulsed, as if it was trying to kiss back.
“My cock definitely isn’t as big as your toy,” Anakin said conversationally, voice slightly nasal because his nose was shoved against Obi-Wan’s taint. “Would you still fuck yourself on it, if I asked you to?”
Obi-Wan’s head was beginning to swim. Still, he shook it back and forth. No seemed an impossible word, right now. The next time Anakin’s tongue fucked into him, Obi-Wan watched a wet pearl of pre-come bead at the tip of his cock. It rolled over to slide down the shaft quickly, and he realized it was because his hips were subtly rocking down, pushing his ass closer to Anakin’s mouth, making his cock bob just barely.
“Or maybe you want something even bigger than your toy.”
Anakin’s head lifted, and then Obi-Wan watched in rapt shame as his former Padawan slid four fingers inside of his ass. They entered in a cone shape, but then Anakin spread them. Obi-Wan’s back arched as if he’d been electrocuted. He tossed his head back to his pillow, not having the presence of mind to stop himself, and cried out to the ceiling. Anakin kept talking as if he hadn’t moved an inch or made a sound, brushing his thumb against Obi-Wan’s pink rim and making a contemplative sound that seemed to be laced with smugness.
“I can’t, I can’t,” Obi-Wan insisted, voice breathy and panicky at once. He was still shaking his head back and forth—no, it was his whole body that was shaking.
Anakin’s fingers slipped from his ass, making a slick sound as they did, and Obi-Wan was suddenly cold and almost melancholy. He realized, with difficulty, that being empty felt worse than the mortification. If he had to be at Anakin’s mercy, he did not want to be hollow—in the embarrassing literal sense, but even more so in the metaphorical. Feeling alone when in the same room as Anakin was something Obi-Wan had grown more and more familiar with as his former Padawan got older, and he resented it greatly. If they were to be together, let them be truly together.
“Shh,” Anakin hushed him. “Okay, okay.”
The soft sounds of rustling fabric floated up to Obi-Wan’s ears, but he did not raise his head from the pillow, fearful that the assumption his mind had made about the source was true, and if it was true, what would he do then?
“This will have to do,” Anakin said.
There was only one thing this could be, really. Obi-Wan blinked at the ceiling, feeling his shoulders sag against the mattress in something akin to defeat. His head felt full of duracrete when he raised it, but he raised it anyway, and didn’t feel a lick of surprise when he saw Anakin holding his hard cock in hand. It wasn’t as big as the fake Quarren cock, but it was big enough.
He’d never seen another man’s cock up close, with the exceptions of communal bathing and medical emergencies, both of which were scenarios where he still tried to avert his eyes as much as possible. A hot-cold rush of something Obi-Wan had never experienced before ran through his body as he blinked slowly, staring at Anakin’s cock. It made him uncomfortable, but Obi-Wan immediately, somehow, understood—and was nearly barreled over by—the appeal of a real cock attached to a real man. His favorite dildo had never seemed more insignificant.
Something came into his peripheral vision, and then Obi-Wan was watching foamy spit land on the head of Anakin’s cock. He looked up just in time to watch his former Padawan spit on himself again. As he spat, Anakin was still staring at him. With a tightly cinched craze in his eyes that told Obi-Wan he had never stopped staring, not even for a second.
“You like my cock, Master?” Anakin asked, the tiniest amount of quirk to his brow.
Obi-Wan’s nose scrunched in judgement, and he muttered, “You watch too much holo-pornography.” As he said it, his gaze flitted down again so he could watch Anakin’s drool sliding slowly down the shaft of his cock. Then, Anakin moved so fast it startled Obi-Wan, forcing his thighs to his chest. It didn’t strain Obi-Wan; he was flexible, even more so than Anakin. Falling into a split with ease was one of the few things Obi-Wan could do that still impressed him. Many years ago, he had decided he would never, ever lose the skill. Now, Obi-Wan rotated his wrists, which laid awkwardly on his chest, stuck between his thighs and sternum, and realized they were no longer held down.
The joints of his fingers ached fiercely with how long he’d been clenching them, but he still cupped both of his legs just under the knee and drew his thighs even further up, farther apart until his knees nearly touched his ears. He felt a whisper of pain in his hamstrings and lower back, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness. The whisper rose to a murmur when Anakin came closer, pressing on top of Obi-Wan, uncaring of his weight as he slid into place between Obi-Wan’s legs like a key turning a lock; long, tan limbs fitting themselves wherever they could to get their bodies as close as possible.
The fight had left Obi-Wan’s body so quickly that it was as if he had never been fighting at all. He felt vaguely nauseous. He wished Anakin would hurry up and do what he was so obviously going to do. It would make Obi-Wan forget about all of that.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Anakin said quietly, almost threateningly. As he brought their faces closer, Obi-Wan felt the instinct to flinch away, as if Anakin was going to bite him with teeth that dripped venom.
“What?”
Anakin rocked forward, and his cock slid against Obi-Wan’s open hole. “Would you fuck yourself on it, if I asked?”
This time, Obi-Wan did put distance between them, but it wasn’t a flinch. It was a deliberate turn of his head to break eye contact. He didn’t know why he even bothered. Trying to preserve any dignity he had left by avoiding Anakin’s gaze was useless when he was not doing anything to avoid the tip of Anakin’s cock pushing against his rim. With the barest pressure, it popped inside of Obi-Wan’s ass, and it was blissful. Obi-Wan had never not enjoyed having his hole touched. It made perfect, horrible sense that his body would welcome Anakin greedily, uncaring of the circumstances, too busy being grateful for the attention. As Anakin pushed forward, Obi-Wan grit his teeth and whimpered through them. There was no pain, not physically at least. Again, he longed for Anakin’s typical impatience; if he would forgo the taunting slowness and just fuck Obi-Wan, really fuck him, he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but that. The pain, the embarrassment, the looming consequences that would no doubt come in the aftermath of this would be fucked right out of Obi-Wan’s head.
When Obi-Wan could feel the brush of Anakin’s balls, he heaved out a sigh of relief. His former Padawan was inside of him to the hilt, as deep as he could possibly go. There was no bulge in his stomach—he had a few toys that could achieve this effect—but Obi-Wan was still overwhelmed by the sheer fullness. It was as if Anakin was everywhere, filling every crevice of Obi-Wan. His perfectly average cock was in Obi-Wan’s ass, but he was also in Obi-Wan’s throat. In his lungs. In his veins. He swore he could taste Anakin. Of course, he was in Obi-Wan’s heart, too. But that wasn’t anything new. Maybe that was why he hadn’t stopped Anakin. A miserable, needy sound gurgled out of Obi-Wan as he shook his head minutely, trying to get rid of the thought.
There was no movement, and Obi-Wan was growing so desperate that he was starting to convince himself that it wouldn’t be so bad to say something like fuck me, break me, have me, please please please.
Then, Anakin pulled back, and Obi-Wan felt his dry lips part in a tired smile.
It fell from his face quicker than it had appeared. Anakin hadn’t just pulled back—he’d pulled out.
Without thinking, Obi-Wan reached down to soothe his hole. He felt it pulsing against the flat of his fingers before pushing three inside of himself. His forearm rubbed against his full balls and that felt good. He still wasn’t thinking when he raised his head, feeling drunk, and asked, “Why did you…?”
Anakin, again, was staring between his legs. Though Obi-Wan had seen the state of his hole after being stuffed full many times, he had never taken a look while he was fucking himself with anything, fingers or otherwise. He wondered if Anakin liked it. He knew Anakin had liked the sight of his ass before, when it was empty and fluttering. Obi-Wan might have pulled his fingers out just to let him look again, to try to convince him to put his cock back inside, but before he could, Anakin moved. He laid next to Obi-Wan on the bed, flat on his back, and turned to him.
“Fuck yourself on it, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes had gone directly to his cock before he had even said it. The warmth of it was still fresh in his mind. And while it was nowhere near as impressive as his fake Quarren cock, Obi-Wan’s dry mouth began to fill with saliva again as he stared at it. Anakin’s cock was far redder than Obi-Wan’s ever got; it almost seemed angry, and Obi-Wan had to stifle the delirious laugh that wanted to come out of him at the thought. Of course, Anakin’s cock was just like the rest of Anakin. Obviously frustrated, almost gratingly easy on the eyes. Even the veins reminded Obi-Wan of the one that would stick out on Anakin’s temple whenever he got particularly heated. Since his knighting, Obi-Wan had wondered, quite a lot, just how much the younger man still needed him, if at all. Looking at his former Padawan’s drippy, aching cock, he figured the answer may be far greater than he had considered.
Still, he wavered. “Anakin…” Obi-Wan said hesitantly, eyes dragging back to his face. Why hadn’t Anakin just fucked him? Why did Obi-Wan have to participate in his own debasement?
“Or, you let me take that picture,” Anakin said casually. He crossed his arms behind his head, and Obi-Wan loathed how distracting his biceps had become in recent years.
Indignant—though, he had no right to be, Obi-Wan huffed. “Fine.”
He sat up, then got to his knees and nearly collapsed back on his haunches from how wobbly his legs were. Self consciously, he straddled Anakin, kneeling over his stomach. Their bodies weren’t touching at all, but he could feel the heat coming off of Anakin. Musky perspiration overwhelmed his senses every time he took in a breath. Obi-Wan hadn’t done this with another person before, and he remembered why he had always shied away from such things. Never before had he felt so simultaneously out of his body and extremely aware of it at the same time.
Anakin raised his hips, and his cock bumped Obi-Wan’s ass. “You can do it,” he said with infuriating victory in his eyes.
“I am not a child.” Obi-Wan frowned, both in response to Anakin’s words and to his own body’s reaction to the simple nudge of Anakin’s cock. He was suddenly and overwhelmingly aware again of how empty he was. Resting his hands on Anakin’s chest, he rocked back, making a small, excited sound when he felt it again. He angled himself until Anakin’s cock was nestled right in the middle of him, but no matter how Obi-Wan pushed back, it wouldn’t slip between his cheeks.
“You’re going to have to touch it, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan refused to look at Anakin’s face. It was embarrassing, being reminded of his own inexperience. He’d sat on many different toys, which he had held as he did so, but that was because they weren’t attached to a person. They couldn’t balance on their own—except the ones with suction cups, of course. He had assumed it would be different with a man. Why he had assumed that didn’t make much sense, which only made Obi-Wan more aware of his lack of knowledge. His cheeks were on fire. His whole body was on fire. Including his cock, which was dripping onto Anakin’s obnoxiously defined stomach muscles.
Still not looking at the younger man, Obi-Wan reached behind himself and took Anakin’s cock in hand. His embarrassment was momentarily forgotten as he took in the sensation. It wasn’t much different than holding his own, but it wasn’t his own. It was Anakin’s. He almost looked back up at his face to see if his touch has affected Anakin at all, but figured he would only see that smug expression again. The thought of it irritated him, and Obi-Wan, in a burst of indignance, guided his former Padawan’s cock to his hole, bore down, and sat on it in one swift drop of his hips.
Thank the Force for Anakin’s immediate and very loud shout. It covered up Obi-Wan’s pornographic mewling.
It felt so good to be full again. In this position, Obi-Wan was even more stuffed than he had been before. Gingerly, he ground himself on Anakin, and his back arched as if he’d been shocked by an electrostaff when Anakin’s cock brushed his prostate. Below him, Anakin had pressed his palms to his eyes and was panting like he was having a panic attack. Obi-Wan could only bring himself to gloat internally for a short moment before his concern naturally took over. Was something wrong? Was Obi-Wan so bad at this that Anakin wanted to stop so soon? He never stopped grinding his hips, even as he softly asked, “Anakin?”
Anakin’s jaw dropped further and let out a long, animal sound, before rasping, “Say my name again.”
Obi-Wan took one hand off of the younger man’s chest to squeeze the base of his own cock. Being told what to do was not so unbearable now, he realized with slight wonderment. Eyes wide, his hips rocked a bit harsher. “Anakin,” he said, voice light.
“Again,” Anakin hissed, fingers clawing at his own hairline.
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan put a little more feeling behind it.
Below him, Anakin’s hips bucked, and Obi-Wan said his name again. It came out like a desperate gasp. Anakin’s hands flew from his face to Obi-Wan’s hips, holding him so tightly it hurt.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, looking down at him. He lifted his hips slightly higher and sank back down onto Anakin’s cock, excitement making his stomach flip when he saw how it made his former Padawan’s eyelashes flutter so prettily. “Anakin,” he said again, and even though it made his face burn horrendously, Obi-Wan forced himself say it in the closest approximation that he could to sexily. He thought of the holo-pornography that Anakin must’ve watched. “Anakin, Anakin, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said every time his ass met the younger man’s pelvis.
Anakin groaned, dark eyes flying all over Obi-Wan’s body. “Come on, Master,” he said, tightening the grip on Obi-Wan’s hips. “Give it to yourself like I’m not even here. Like I’m your dildo.”
The fake Quarren cock was now so far from Obi-Wan’s mind that it took him a second longer than it should have to process what Anakin had said. Many times, he had sat on one of his toys in bed, lazily grinding on it until he pitched forward onto his chest and reached back to fuck himself hard. His suction cupped toys he enjoyed most in his ‘fresher, stuck to the wall so he could fuck back onto them standing up. It occurred to him that he had never really ridden one of his toys. This time, the insecurity brought on by his inexperience was accompanied by a wave of determinedness, and Obi-Wan steeled himself before placing both hands on Anakin’s chest again.
It couldn’t be that hard, could it?
Obi-Wan lifted himself even higher before sitting back down on Anakin’s cock. He watched Anakin’s face, saw the way he bit the inside of his cheek and drew his eyebrows together. Obi-Wan repeated the motion, this time a little faster. Anakin made a choked sound, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help his own moaning as his hole clenched around the cock inside of him, the cock that was dragging along his prostate with each rise and fall of his hips. Obi-Wan’s legs ached, but that was inconsequential. His ass was full of cock. Real cock. Anakin’s cock. Every rock of his hips got harsher, until the sound of their bodies meeting was producing obscene sounds that hardened Obi-Wan’s nipples into tight, needy peaks. He considered asking Anakin to touch them, but was loathe to part with the clenching, bruising grip on either side of his hips. So, he brought one of his own shaking hands to his chest and pinched a nipple, a bolt of arousal shooting straight to his cock as he did. It continued to drip on Anakin’s belly, and bobbed around as Obi-Wan fucked himself down faster and faster.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan moaned, eyes half lidded as he looked down.
Anakin cursed, the nails of his flesh hand clawing into Obi-Wan’s skin. “You’re so sexy like this, Obi-Wan,” he drawled, voice breathless and low.
Despite his earlier efforts to be seen as exactly that, the compliment made Obi-Wan squirm. It was mortifying to be called sexy by the boy he had raised, regardless of how good his cock felt in Obi-Wan’s ass. It was even more mortifying that Obi-Wan wanted to be sexy for him. He lost some of the fierceness in his rhythm as he brought a hand up to cover his face.
Anakin laughed. “The fact that you’re so shy about being a whore just makes me harder, you know.”
Legs and hips still moving, hole still swallowing the cock stuffing him full, Obi-Wan hissed, “Shut up, Anakin.” He readjusted his position slightly, leaning back. “Let me…let me focus,” he sighed, sitting back down on Anakin’s cock, then gasping when the small change in angle did excellent things for his prostate. “Oh—shit.”
But Obi-Wan should’ve known asking Anakin to stop distracting him would go as well as it ever had. He had only managed a few tentative bounces in the new position before Anakin was wrapping his arms around him and pulling Obi-Wan down so their chests were pressed together. Face planted in Anakin’s shoulder, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to chide the younger man, but all that ended up coming out of him was a reedy sigh as Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s ass and bucked up, cock shoving deep inside.
Hands clawing at Anakin’s biceps, Obi-Wan made an incoherent sound of pleasure. He was still tense from the surprise position change. The only part of him that didn’t feel tightly wound was his hole, which he was sure couldn’t truly tense even if he had wanted it to. Anakin’s fingers were teasing at his rim, and Obi-Wan realized it would take no effort at all to take them inside of himself alongside his former Padawan’s cock.
“Slutty old man,” Anakin mumbled.
Then, one of Anakin’s flesh fingers did slip into his hole. Obi-Wan mouthed at his shoulder, wondering if he had projected the idea into the Force, or if was just one of those rare times that they were entirely on the same page without needing to discuss a thing; so in-tune with each other that their Force signatures seemed to sing together in harmony.
Another finger, this time made of durasteel, tucked inside of his ass, stretching him even further. Determined to not let the harmonious feeling fade, Obi-Wan pushed back on Anakin’s cock and the two fingers. The movement dragged his own cock along Anakin’s stomach. At some point, Obi-Wan must have gotten to the point where he forgot he even had a cock; too focused on his ass to care about anything else. And as quickly as he had remembered it existed, he had forgotten it again, because Anakin managed to get two more fingers—one from each hand—inside of Obi-Wan’s ass.
“For fucks sake, Anakin,” Obi-Wan choked out, face still shoved in the younger man’s neck. He wondered if he was going to be tested and toyed with until he broke. That would take a long time, surely longer than Anakin might’ve been presuming. There were far bigger toys in his collection than the Quarren cock.
Two of the fingers slid out of his ass, and Obi-Wan twitched in unhappiness.
Then, because they were still so in-sync, Obi-Wan felt the fake Quarren cock that he had just been thinking of nudge at his hole. He lifted his head from Anakin’s neck and looked down at the younger man.
Anakin froze, hips coming to a halt, hands stilling completely. He looked just as he had the first time he was caught playing with Obi-Wan’s lightsaber—naturally, without permission—at ten years old. The nostalgia was so sweet that it actually turned Obi-Wan’s stomach. Or, perhaps the twist in his guts was because he knew he would not be reprimanding Anakin this time.
Obi-Wan sighed. “At least put lube on it, first.”