Archive of Our Own

“Ouch! Kriff, Obi-Wan, stop!” Anakin yelps, twisting around in a fruitless bid to force his Master release the hold on his ear.

“Ani!”

He burns with shame of his angel witnessing the beginning of his punishment. Well. Punishment might be too harsh a word, but what else will he call it when his Master has lost his cool and is taking it out on Anakin?

A little voice at the back of his mind cries he is full of bantha poodoo.

“Master Kenobi, unhand him.” Padmé speaks with the sharp demand of a Senator.

Anakin’s Master, though? He does her the discourtesy of barely glancing in her direction. The air goes heady with staggering notes of petrichor and geosmin; the storm rolling along the horizon, at odds with the idyllic Nabooan countryside surrounding them. 

When Master Obi-Wan speaks, venom drips off every syllable. “Senator, respect that our culture is different from your own and I am in charge of my Padawan’s care.”

Anakin flushes despite himself. A familiar warmth fills his belly at the verbal confession he belongs to Obi-Wan. He licks his lips. It doesn’t matter if his Master only claims him as his student—it does, his heart cries out, but it cannot matter because his body is confused thinking his Alpha is rejecting him—

The Beta continues on, clearly not intimidated by secondary gender peacocking. “I do not intend to disrespect you, Master Jedi, but Anakin is able to speak for himself.”

Silence.

The living Force pauses, taut the way Anakin expects before a clap of thunder. The Alpha’s back is ramrod straight, arms uncrossing and falling to his sides. Suddenly, Anakin wants to burrow into a hole and never return.

“What do you think, Padawan?” Master Obi-Wan pins Anakin with a strange look Anakin’s never saw before - and it sends a shiver down his spine seeing the unguarded emotion burning his eyes bright like chemical flames. “Have you earned your right to speak?”

Padmé gasps.

Anakin’s entire attention shifts off his angel as something akin to scared fascination urges him further into the Alpha’s orbit. His Master’s scents clog Anakin’s nostrils until he tastes the hint of rain at the back of his tongue.

And yet he cannot keep himself from pushing boundaries. “Why do you care?”

Master Obi-Wan’s eyebrows fly up his forehead, disappearing at his thick hairline. The mole crinkles and bulges. “You doubt me?”

The Force crackles. The hair on Anakin’s forearms raise.

Anakin bites his lips, but barrels through. “Why do you care what I do with Padmé?”

His Master crosses his arms over his chest. “Because you forget yourself and your vows; mating outside the Order is forbidden.”

Padmé attempts to interject. “Ani—”

Anakin waves her off, taking two quick steps closer to his Master. He hopes the lapping lake beyond the terrace will eat the words and his angel cannot hear him hiss out, “She wants me.”

Pheromones rise like fog. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “You are flooding the air with pre-heat pheromones, Anakin; even the most nose blind Betas like the Senator can smell you.”

Anakin gulps back a whine.

The first sign Obi-Wan isn’t as indifferent as he’d like Anakin to believe is his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating hearing Anakin’s noises.

“Why do you care that someone wants me?” he presses, an edge of insistence kicking at the cage of his ribs. His fingertips tingle. His mouth fills with saliva. “You haven’t cared what—”

Both Master’s and Padawan’s jaws click shut at the half-formed statement. Anakin’s eyes fill with tears as he watches Obi-Wan’s visage shutter. He tries to correct the mistake, mouth opening and closing, but his Master’s hand extends out in silent command and will not let him apologize.

“I refuse to listen to you doubt me further, Padawan.” Obi-Wan shakes his head. A searching gaze roves over the student’s head to toe, eyes finally resting on the limp braid at Anakin’s right shoulder. Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. “Pick.”

Fear floods his veins the way the first spark prior to an explosion flares high. “Pick?” he parrots, voice reedy.

His Master nods once.

His mouth dries out. “Master—”

“Pick.”

Although not a trace of Alpha command laces the demand, Anakin feels a prick of commanding pressure on his spine all the same. Sinking into quick sand would be less jarring than this crossroads he is thrusted to stand before. Anakin glances frantically at the stoic facade of his Master back to the anxious visage of his angel.

“Why can’t—” he sputters, mind summersaulting.

Master Obi-Wan sighs. With a rigid half-bow, he intones, “May the Force be with you, Anakin.”

And he walks away.

Anakin’s vision blurs, breath trapped in his chest, heart lurching.

The terrace grows quiet, Naboo’s tranquility sneaking back into the crevices of his Master Alpha’s absence. Birds chirp, waves kiss the sandy shores.

The Force grows taut, tinnitus tunneling his hearing. What the kark just happened, replays like a skipping Holo record.

A gentle hand curves against his shoulder blade and Anakin nearly recoils at the unexpectedness. A piece of him balks at the instinctual reaction, his inner Omega panicked and petrified. His instincts buzz, hay-wired, begging begging begging.

Padmé breaks the silence. “Ani? Are you well?”

He shakes his head. Tears well up and every time he swallows Anakin swears he is choking on his heart in its bid to crawl up his throat. From the peripheral, he catches dark amber eyes staring imploringly back at him. He cannot stand the sight of her.

All he has to offer is a pitiful, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” A sharp inhale cuts the birdsong in half.

Instincts overriding common sense, all Anakin can do is shake his head, turn tail, and chase after his Alpha. The Beta means little in the face of living without his Alpha.

Anakin cannot say if the scenery blurs from the speed which he runs or from the tears coating his cheeks.

His Master is halfway up the gangway of the ship, steps clipped as he climbs higher, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Master!” he calls out, hand outstretched as if close enough to stop the older man in his tracks. “Wait!”

A nasty voice in his head warns Anakin the Alpha will not stop because Anakin karked up and the Alpha does not want anything to do with a disobedient Omega.

The Alpha Master does stop at the cry of his Omega.

Anakin shakes off the particulars his hindbrain is getting hung up on and takes the opportunity to sprint the short distance between them. Once near enough he does not stop the urge to reach out and grasp his Master’s wrist, tugging the man around to face him fully.

“Master, I’m sorry,” the words escape in a flurry. His chest heaves. “I don’t know—”

Obi-Wan shakes off Anakin’s touch and steps back. “Just get on the ship, Anakin.”

“Master?”

The older man only holds out his arm to indicate Anakin listen.

So what else is there to do? Anakin slinks up the rest of the gangway and onto their ship.

Once inside he turns in the direction of the cockpit when a voice halts him.

“Not so fast,” Obi-Wan snaps. “Go shower. You reek.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin flushes, dips his chin in an estimation of a nod, then trots off, biting back tears.

Is he really so close to his heat already? He furiously wipes away the tears.

Anakin slips into the smallest of the three cabins. A blush waves across his cheeks down to the tops of his chest upon seeing a familiar bag sitting on the bed. Master packed Anakin a bag.

His lower lip wobbles.

His intention is to rinse off quickly, perfunctory in his routine, a tad longer than a typical sonic lasts. He catches a whiff of florals and an undercurrent of grass. Yes, he decides; a tad longer time in the shower is due. Anakin loves this particular ship because it houses both a regular shower and a sonic in the refreshers.

Yet the second Anakin steps into the steaming spray time dissipates into an illusion.

The hot water is a balm to his tight muscles and Anakin sags against the cool tiles. Eyes closed, Anakin experiences his body buzzing and he takes the time to acknowledge his Master’s earlier observation Anakin is in pre-heat. Which… yeah, once pointed out to him, Anakin identifies the markers of his pre-heat. His body is thrumming and he is growing more intolerant of his body’s natural temperature. The water pressure is lulling him toward sleep.

He glances down to see his dick plumping up.

And his hole is fluttering.

He likely will not enter full heat for another two or three days, but fuck Anakin is itching underneath his skin.

He needs.

He scrubs himself pink, ignoring the rippling pleasure while washing his bits.

Once finished with the shower and he exits the fresher, Anakin is hit with a wave of floral notes that immediately sit like curdled blue milk in his stomach. How strange that Anakin’s instincts dislike his angel when the man behind them loves her dearly.

But is that true?

Anakin ignores the question and snatches up his discarded clothes, carrying them back into the refresher to toss into the laundry unit.

Redressing in his proper robes sounds like a sensory nightmare, so instead he dresses in lounge pants and a loose tunic. The cotton material scratches his nipples and Anakin whines as they pebble at the unexpected attention. He bites on his lip, swaying forward.

A tug against his training bond brings Anakin back into full awareness. He gives a responding touch back as he leaves the cabin.

He finds his Master in the common room, the space is small for all it houses; the eating area, the kitchen area, and a couch and meditation mats. Master Obi-Wan sits on the couch, though he stands when Anakin enters.

Anakin’s knees wobble; the desire to kneel before the Alpha near crippling.

“Thank you for showering.”

Anakin flushes at the unexpected praise, shuffling unsteadily forward until he stands on the opposite side of the couch. He touches the leather material, eyes trained on his fingers. He thinks he should be mad at having to wash away his angel’s scent, but truthfully Anakin is relieved to smell only himself when he inhales. Citrus and something tropical, underlying notes of sweets as his pre-heat ripens.

“Come sit with me, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s tone brokers no disobedience.

Anakin sinks into the corner of the couch. He snuggles down, unconsciously finding a place to nest. He wishes for some pillows to burrow against.

Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“Master?” Anakin asks, feeling as if he has missed something important by the way the Force flickers like sparks off a drill.

“Perhaps we should have this conversation after you have—”

Anakin groans. “I’m in pre-heat, Master; I’m not addled and unable to have serious discussions. Surely you must know this after four years since I presented; it happens every couple of months.”

The Alpha releases a puff of pheromones that test Anakin’s resolve.

He trembles, lower lip wobbling and eyes filling with tears. “Why don’t you want me, Master?”

“Oh, Padawan,” sighs Obi-Wan. The older Jedi scoots down the cushions and grabs Anakin by the nape. “Look at me, silly boy.”

The Omega whimpers. He steals a glance from the corner of his eye.

Obi-Wan reaches out and catches a tear with his thumb. He rubs the finger-pad in soft swirls around Anakin’s cheek, his head tilted as he simply observes. “Who put such an idea inside that pretty little head of yours that I do not want you? In any capacity.”

Anakin shakes his head. “I dunno,” he mumbles, glancing away and then back again, unable to shake the pull to look away from his Alpha for very long.

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” The words rest between them, long enough to weigh their gravity. “I will not press now, but know this Padawan: I ought to punish you for doubting me, but truthfully the fault lies with me in letting you down. I will not punish you.”

Anakin’s core cramps, considering Obi-Wan’s conversational tone speaking the word punish and how his posh accent shortens the vowels. “It’s not your fault, Al—Master.” He shakes his head, widening his eyes as he blinks up. “It’s me. I’m the problem, Master, like I always am.”

Obi-Wan thumbs away more tears. “You are not a problem, Anakin. Do you hear me? Listen to your Master when I tell you this and believe me.”

The strength of his Master’s conviction sparks heat in Anakin’s belly. His hole clenches rhythmically. And then he flushes once more upon realizing the reactions his body are having. He tries to shut them away. He’s so karking confused.

“I believe you believe what you are saying,” he replies stiffly.

Master Obi-Wan snorts, using the hand on the back of Anakin’s neck to bring the young man nearer. Their foreheads rest together. “You are the pride and joy of my life, darling. No matter how frustrating you can be, it does not take away from the immense joy and light you bring to me on a daily basis. I cannot bear the thought of losing you. You…,” he exhales, fingers absentmindedly playing with Anakin’s ponytail. “You scared me earlier.”

Anakin crawls into Obi-Wan’s lap, wrapping his arms around the Alpha’s neck and then burrowing his face in the crock there. He inhales a great big breath and melts into the embrace. “Don’t ever leave me.”

Obi-Wan hums, arms wrapping securely around Anakin’s waist. “I’m right here, Padawan.”

Anakin focuses on his Master’s steady heart thumping and matches his breathing to it. Their pheromones settle into familiar notes, comfort a warm embrace. He begins to doze off.

“Padawan,” his Master’s deep tenor croons, hot breath fanning across his ear. “You need to go lay down in a bed.”

Anakin whines at the thought of leaving. “No, comfy.” His arms reflexively tighten around Obi-Wan. “Don’t leave me.”

A large hand roams up and down Anakin’s spine, motions firm and grounding.

He floats in the land of in-between for a moment longer. Then he hums and says, “Obi-Wan?”

“What is it, Padawan?”

Even before the words leave his lips, Anakin is shuddering at the idea of what is to come. “Will you spank me?”

Had Anakin not been cuddling his Master, he wouldn’t have heard the groan rumbling through his chest. “Don’t ask for things you do not understand the consequences of, Anakin.” His Master’s warning is gruff.

“I do,” he reassures, wiggling around and slowly pulling away until they are eye to eye. Sapphire irises are nearly eclipsed by blown pupils and Anakin bites his lip at the sight of his Master’s visible interest. “I want you to remind me who I belong to. Please?”

“Force help me.” Obi-Wan curses under his breath. “We shouldn’t—”

A tiny sob parts Anakin’s lips. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.”

Obi-Wan tosses a dubious look Anakin’s way.

And… right, that’s fair, Anakin allows. He shakes his head hard enough the rope braid flings in the scant space between them. “I never thought you wanted me—”

“Not this again,” grumbles Obi-Wan, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Anakin plays with the tufts of hair at the base of his Master Alpha’s neck. “You never gave any signs.”

The Alpha shifts underneath him. “Of course I wouldn’t have. You’re not yet twenty. And my student still. Take your pick.”

“Yours,” hums Anakin, leaning in to nuzzle their noses together. He realizes nobody loves him like Obi-Wan.

“Anakin,” warns Obi-Wan.

He cannot help it; he shifts again and discovers a bulge. He smirks in satisfaction. “I never thought you wanted me as your Omega, Alpha. When I’ve known all along the Force created me for you. What else was I supposed to do?”

A fist wraps around his Padawan braid and yanks. “Is that so? Then why were you ready to marry—”

Anakin growls out a frustrated, “Because I didn’t think my Alpha wanted me!”

Obi-Wan twists the braid around his wrist and brings Anakin closer. Their mouths hover. “I will not share you again, Anakin. If I claim you, you will only ever be mine. Think before you make a decision.”

Anakin nods, poking his tongue out to run along Obi-Wan’s upper lip. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted since after I presented. Since I met you, I always knew we were meant to be together.”

Obi-Wan shudders, eyes briefly shutting. His eyes are at half-mast when he speaks, “I will not fuck you today.”

He whines, nipping at the bristles of his Master’s upper lip, tongue chasing after the prickly sensation. “Will you spank me then?”

Large hands bracket Anakin’s hips and still him. “I will not fuck you today. You are much too close to starting your heat.”

Anakin doesn’t even have to exaggerate the pout, the disappoint hurts like a lance to the thigh during sparring matches doing its job well. “We’ll talk about it,” he proposes.

Obi-Wan huffs. 

And before Anakin can process anything, a swat lands on the top of his left asscheek. He jumps, and then promptly gushes slick as a filthy moan fills the room.

“My naughty boy,” tsks Obi-Wan, fire in his eyes. The scent of dirt and rain scatters across the common space and bears down on Anakin. “Always testing your limits, aren’t you?”

Anakin bites the inside of his cheeks.

“Strip.”

Anakin shuffles to obey. He allows Obi-Wan’s help in shucking off his tunic, but he has to scoot off his Master Alpha’s lap to shimmy out of his pants. His cock sprints free, slapping his belly. But it is what is in-between his thighs that is the more pressing concern; he is soaked and aching.

“Perfection,” comes his Master’s reverent croon.

Anakin blushes at the praise, chin tilting down to his chest as the warmth threatens to overwhelm his whole nervous system. The inner Omega preens at his Alpha’s compliment and aches for more, always, always more.

Master Obi-Wan reaches for Anakin’s bony wrist and guides him into the v of his sprawled legs. Once where he wants him, he drops the hold, but before Anakin can protest the change, a large palm kneads one side of Anakin’s bottom.

“Ah!” he cries out at a second swat, this one leaving a sting without cloth as a barrier. “Alpha!”

The Alpha in question growls. “Over my knees.”

In his haste to comply, Anakin inelegantly drapes himself over his Master’s lap. But his hurry is tempered by large hands halting his jerky movements, so Anakin gives into Obi-Wan rearranging Anakin to his liking with relief and as close to composure as he can muster.

He wiggles his ass in the air.

And is promptly rewarded with a sharp smack! 

Anakin moans.

“Tell me why I am spanking you, Omega.” The Alpha’s voice is low, gravelly and smoky in a way Anakin has never had the privilege of hearing.

“Because I belong to you, Alpha,” he retorts. “And I needed the reminder.”

Obi-Wan rubs the tender flesh where heat radiates from his earlier swat. “How many times must Master spank you until you have learned your lesson, Padawan?”

Anakin sucks on his tongue, trying not to stir as arousal gathers. He wonders if Obi-Wan will get saturated, too; the thought makes his dick twitch. “Twenty, Alpha.” Nineteen for his age, plus one more just because.

“Very well. Count them out for me.”

Only… Obi-Wan does not begin right away.

Anakin vibrates with the anticipation his cruel Alpha makes him linger inside. The Jedi Master runs his fingers and palm over both globes of Anakin’s bottom, squeezing the muscles and then dragging a finger along the crack. Anakin has to bite his lip to keep from beginning Obi-Wan just get on with it when—

Smack!

“One!” Anakin cries out, eyes fluttering close as his heart kicks against his chest.

His Master attends to the inflamed flesh for a couple moments. And then he whacks Anakin’s other cheek with a firmer hand than before.

“Two!” His hips buck, cock hanging heavy and thick between his thighs. “Kark, yes, Master! Feels so good.”

Behind him, Obi-Wan makes a curious little humming noise. “And what if this is a punishment after all, Padawan? I do not believe that punishments should be pleasurable. What do you think?”

Now it is Anakin’s turn to curse. Between shuddering breaths he gets out, “Whatever you think is best for me, Alpha.”

Obi-Wan bends down and presses a kiss to the backside of Anakin’s nape. “My sweet little Omega,” the words are branded into the marrow of his bones as his Alpha pets Anakin’s flank. “I always knew you’d be eager to please.”

Slick trickles down the inside of Anakin’s thighs. He rubs them together.

The next spankings come in three quick successions. Anakin moans at the heat, calling out the numbers as they arrive.

From there, Obi-Wan alternates between slow intervals of a hard swat and prolonged soothing the flaming skin to several smacks in quick succession. Anakin does his best to keep count.

His Alpha’s attentive precision is all-consuming. Anakin’s head fills with cotton rounds, stuffing out unnecessary noise.

Around number fourteen he begins to cry.

Obi-Wan pauses. “Should I stop, darling?”

Anakin whips around to glance over his shoulder. “No, don’t you dare, Alpha. I need it; I need you so bad, please, please, Alpha, give me—”

The Alpha shushes the Omega with a gentle kiss. “Very well, darling; I want to make sure you are well.”

Anakin turns back around, hanging limply over his Master’s thighs and tries his level best not to rub his prick against Obi-Wan like a schutta. “Don’t take it easy on me.”

Obi-Wan grabs the back of Anakin’s neck and forces his head stay down. The final six spankings commence with little fanfare, with the very last one connecting where the swell of his ass meets his pussy.

Anakin warbles as he counts the final swats, toes curling and back arching. He must make an obscene sight; he feels soaked through, wetter than he has been even in the throes of heat, head the good kind of foggy.

And all he wants is the Alpha underneath him.

“Alpha,” he sobs, trying to lift his head up against the weight of the hold on his neck. “Alpha, please.”

“Shush, Omega; c’mere.”

They rearrange until Anakin is properly back in Obi-Wan’s lap. And then the Omega shoves his nose against the Alpha’s scent gland, inhaling sweet, sweet nectarine. Obi-Wan runs his fingers through Anakin’s hair, deftly untying the small ponytail at the base of his head.

“I am not fucking you tonight,” comes the strict words of an Alpha who has made up his mind.

Anakin bucks against Obi-Wan’s stomach, no doubt smearing the copious amount of precum into the older man’s obi. “I need you, Alpha. Don’t you want me?”

Obi-Wan gives a sharp tug on the braid. “Why should I reward bad behavior when I caught you not two hours ago in a mating ceremony with a Beta?”

Anakin has the decency to blush. “I told you,” he mumbles.

The Alpha barks a harsh laugh. “Because she wants you? You were ready to toss away everything you have worked so hard to achieve for a passing fancy?”

Anakin stays quiet, realizing that nothing he says now will help him crawl out from his hole.

“You will not answer me,” his Master observes with a scoff. “Yet I see the spankings were not sufficient evidence.”

“I.”

“Get dressed, Anakin.”

Panic licks through him and in a blink of an eye, without any thought from his higher self, Omega instincts driving the speeder, Anakin darts forward and latches onto Obi-Wan’s scent gland. His canines have not pierced the skin, but it is a near thing.

As quickly as he react, the Alpha in turn reacts; Anakin finds himself flat on his back, wind knocked from his lungs with the force of the Alpha descending on him as they fall to the ground. The Alpha snarls in his face, and the Omega instinctively shows his neck.

“Omega,” the warning is tinted in Alpha Command.

He shivers. “Yours, Alpha.”

Obi-Wan bends down, licking a stripe down Anakin’s unblemished mating gland. “And yet you nearly weren’t. So ready to allow a Beta to mark you. Did she take anything else, Padawan?”

He hesitates.

The Alpha growls. “Did you really think a pussy would satisfy you in the throes of heat?” A hand snakes down between them, palming Anakin’s stiff prick, and then runs through the slick gathering below. “A Beta cannot satisfy an Omega, Padawan. And you were so sure…,” he trails off, shaking his head.

“What?” he pants out, brows furrowing.

“Did you sleep with her?”

Anakin blushes at the blunt question. “Not… really.”

“That isn’t an answer, Anakin. It is a yes or a no; did she fuck your pussy?” The Alpha growls in warning, sharp canines glinting in the overhead lighting.

After another beat, Anakin shakes his head. “No. But I let her watch me fuck my fingers while she touched herself. She… she didn’t want to mate properly until after the ceremony.” He isn’t sure why he tacks on the last part.

Obi-Wan laughs, but it is not a sound of amusement. “And you know what, Padawan?” When Anakin hums a shaky note, the Alpha continues. “You didn’t even bring any of your toys. You would have triggered a mating heat and your new Beta mate wouldn’t have been able to care for you. And what a pitiful little Omega you would have been, too.”

“Argh,” he chokes at the statement, a flare of annoyance flashing through his thoughts because he had thought about the lack of toys and wondered how Padmé might have shared his heat with him.

“And might I assume, Padawan,” purrs his Alpha Master, a wicked glint darkening sapphire eyes to a color reminiscent to the stars shooting by outside their transparisteel windows. “You haven’t shared your heats with anyone, have you?”

“No,” Anakin is quick to reassure, “I have not.”

Obi-Wan flashes him a grin, canines pointed down and gleaming in spit. “Is that right?”

“I was waiting on you, Alpha.” he carries on. He tentatively tries to stretch out, wondering if the Alpha will give him the room.

Hips slam into his and lock Anakin place. “Which is precisely the point in why I will not fuck you tonight.”

Anakin slams his head back in frustration. “Why not?”

“Your whining will not help your case, my darling.”

Anakin hates the condescending note the Alpha speaks to his Omega. So he decides to retaliate. “What if I go back to our quarters at the Temple and I grab my belongings and then return to Padmé and I let her peg me?”

And Obi-Wan, damn him, simply sneers back. “Why don’t we turn around right now then? Since you can’t have real cock, you’d rather choke pathetically on silicone, be my guest.”

“But I don’t have my toys,” he pouts.

“Oh darling,” his Master bends down, blows hot air against Anakin’s ear. “I packed them for you. Didn’t you look through your bag? I know my Omega’s heat schedule.”

A zing zips from the base of Anakin’s skull down to his low back. He moans under his breath, eyes widening at the hushed confession. “Why would you pack my—” he cannot conceive the reality of it, let alone find the courage to put voice to it.

“Because I don’t want you to suffer,” is the simple reply.

Anakin whines, eyes screwing shut, and his hips jerk forward. He wiggles around some more in an attempt to wrap one leg around Obi-Wan’s hips. “Alpha, please. You can’t say these things when I need you so badly.”

The Alpha chuckles. He pins his hips harder into the Omega’s. “Your tight little hole isn’t ready for me yet, darling. You will have to earn it and have patience.”

He groans. “But I won’t need you to prep me—”

Obi-Wan snorts. “I don’t know what sort of HoloPorn you have been watching, Padawan—”

“None!” he squeaks.

“Then I don’t know what trashy romance novels you have been reading, but you most definitely will need prepped.” Obi-Wan shakes his head, then sits back on his haunches. “Go to bed, Anakin. We can finish this conversation after we have returned to the Temple and your heat has ended.”

Anakin sits up quickly and tosses his arms around the Alpha’s neck. “No, wait. Please, Obi-Wan.”

A hand cradles the back of his head and his lower back. Dark eyes examine him. Indecision pulls down the older man’s eyebrows and thins his lips into a line.

“You want me as your Alpha?”

The insecurity in the question rocks Anakin’s entire galaxy. He sucks in a sharp breath, tears welling in his eyes as the Alpha’s pheromones flatten into sour notes.

“Yes,” he sobs, shaking his head emphatically. “Here. See for yourself.” He reaches of the Alpha’s hand and brings it to rest on Anakin’s naked chest. Palm to heart, Anakin closes his eyes. He opens himself to the Force and finds their training bond, the faintly gold glowing strand linking their minds is easy to find.

Anakin takes a deep breath, lowers his shields, and shoves.

Obi-Wan gasps.

Blue-green eyes the color of the planet Anakin fled a couple hours hence light up his galaxy because they are Obi-Wan’s and it is Anakin’s Alpha staring incredulously up at him.

Anakin falls forward and seals his lips with Obi-Wan’s.

The Alpha Master immediately responds, not pushing away, but instead wrapping his arms around the Omega and kissing him back. He plunders his mouth, tongue off on a quest to explore with the sharp attention he devotes to every aspect of his life.

The Omega melts into the kiss, kitten licking against Obi-Wan’s tongue, mewling and so Force damned eager to consume and be consumed.

Hands clamp on either side of Anakin’s hips and cease the circling he had unconsciously been performing. He hears how thick the slick is as his Alpha Master moves Anakin around. The smell is pleasant to him, notes of his normal citrus overcome with sweeter notes like vanilla and cherries. It rolls around them, mixing with the muskier notes of an aroused Alpha.

“The tip,” he breathes out, shuddering in anticipation. The weight of the length underneath his bare bottom is too tempting; Anakin wants more and perhaps he shouldn’t, yet he burns with the thrumming and pounding need his hindbrain is quickly succumbing to.

His Alpha growls. “You play with fire, Omega.”

Anakin shudders, flicking his tongue back inside Obi-Wan’s mouth. They are sidetracked by the filthiness of the kiss, Anakin desperate for any connection, and Obi-Wan focused on giving Anakin security.

His Master pulls away first. He shakes his head when Anakin attempts to reconnect their lips. “When you touch yourself,” Obi-Wan pants against his ear, “how many fingers can you take?”

Anakin’s belly clenches. “Three,” is the quick answer. “It’s too awkward for me to get the fourth in.”

The Alpha’s pupils swallow his irises, the shadow of twilight lost to the jungle. Next, Anakin’s hand is brought between them. The Alpha instructs him until their palms are pressed flat. Surprised, Anakin realizes the size difference. Where Anakin has long and slender digits, Obi-Wan’s are medium in length, though significantly more thicker. Alpha hands, his hindbrain fixates on.

Everything on Anakin’s Alpha Master is thick.

“You probably couldn’t take two of mine,” Obi-Wan says.

Anakin doesn’t want to hear it. “We won’t know until you stuff me full of them, Master.”

The older man wheezes as if punched in the solar plexus. “Is that what my Omega wants? For his Alpha to finger him open to take the tip of a fat cock?”

Slick gathers and gushes at the visual. Anakin tries bucking in the still too strong hold. “Will you give it to me? You know it’s what I want, Alpha. I’m leaking all over you,” his voice cracks by the end.

The Alpha’s nostrils flare, as if taking their first whiff of Anakin’s interest. “I know, sweet boy. I’m nearly as soaked as you are, aren’t I?”

Anakin nods. Then he darts forward to mouth along Obi-Wan’s chin, down his jaw, and finally swirls his tongue around his Alpha Master’s mating gland. “Imagine how good I’ll feel for you, Alpha.” A heat like shyness steels over him, yet Anakin knows these are the words his Alpha deserves to hear. And more than that, Anakin wants to share these dirty thoughts with the only man that matters.

“Oh, darling, I do imagine,” the confession is whispered against Anakin’s lower jaw. A nip follows. “How slick your walls will be, how tight you’ll feel wrapped around my cock. Mm, yes, sweet thing, Master has thought about it.”

“Show me?” he asks, voice plain and devoid of any artifice aside from his sheer desire to have anything and everything his Master will give him. “Please, Alpha?”

Obi-Wan curls his fingers into the spaces between Anakin’s. Carefully, he brings the back of Anakin’s to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against the back, gaze locked on the Omega.

Anakin trembles.

Next, Obi-Wan takes their hands and slides them down down down…. Anakin’s knuckles graze the coarse material of Obi-Wan’s Jedi ensemble, the scratch irritating yet exciting. It splashes goosebumps up his forearms and a tiny shiver to part his lips.

Finally, Obi-Wan dips their knuckles against the wetness below Anakin’s full testicles, the hidden clit erect and throbbing as they pass over it with a grazing touch. Anakin mewls, ready to claw his way forward into Obi-Wan’s arms entirely and beg the older man have his wicked way with him already.

“Put your pointer finger up,” whispers Obi-Wan, the words nearly a croak.

Anakin opens his mouth in inquiry, unsure about the direction, until Obi-Wan extends one of his fingers. He follows suit, both of their forefingers pressed together.

He does not have time to wonder what will happen next because Obi-Wan guides their extended fingers along the seam of Anakin’s pussy until they sink into his opening.

“Oh, kriffing stars above, Alpha,” he sings as their fingers still inside. His hips automatically start working the fingers deeper. His head tips back and he moans, low and long. “Just like that, Alpha.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles Anakin’s neck, tongue lapping from collarbone to collarbone. “How does it feel having two fingers inside you?”

“Hngh,” he keens.

The Jedi Master smirks. “Fuck yourself, Omega; show me how to stretch you open.”

“Yes,” he whines, teeth chattering.

A hand latches onto his Padawan braid. “And maybe,” the dark voice continues murmuring in Anakin’s ear, “your Master will reward you with the tip. Will you be my good boy, darling?”

“Please, I’ll be so good for you, Alpha.” Anakin trembles as his hips buck.

Lost inside his head, Anakin grinds and fucks himself on his own and Obi-Wan’s fingers. Slick leaks out steadily and the squelching noise is obscene.

Obi-Wan wiggles another finger.

Anakin catches on quickly, mimicking the Alpha’s movements, although that means he has to pause his ministrations. Their index fingers slip out, then their middle fingers raise to join. Anakin wastes no time stuffing in the four fingers.

He whines, because it is a bit of a tight fit. It isn’t painful, only uncomfortable in its newness. Anakin’s mouth floods with saliva. “Alpha, kiss me.”

Obi-Wan obliges.

They distract themselves with slow, sensual kisses. The teasing of their mouth sliding together and apart forces Anakin to slow the pace of fucking the fingers inside his tight hole. He feels so, so good.

Anakin’s vision splits for a second as a ball of warmth expands from his core.

When Obi-Wan tugs his fingers free, Anakin actually starts to cry. The Alpha shushes him, but Anakin is not easily consoled, fear of rejection souring the sweet notes of his pheromones.

“Here,” the older man says, tugging on Anakin’s wrist until his own fingers slip from his wet cunt. “Let me.”

Two thick fingers are shoved back inside Anakin’s fluttering hole, filling the emptiness so efficiently Anakin had not realized he was aching so severely until the Alpha fills him up. A third finger pets the puckered rim.

“Yesss.” Anakin’s breath stutters in his chest.

“If you can take three, I’ll give you what you want,” the Alpha promises. “Relax.”

Anakin’s never wanted something so badly in his life; not even becoming a Jedi had overwhelmed his senses the way anticipating having his Alpha’s cock inside him sends him into a tizzy.

Obi-Wan curls his fingers against the spongy insides, petting the top with practiced ease. Anakin cries out, clenching against the delightful sensation. His Master groans at the pressure change, but he continues to fuck his fingers up into Anakin’s slick hole, panting against Anakin’s neck all the while.

“You feel divine, Omega.” The Alpha coos. “My good boy.” The pressure of a third finger slithers up to the first knuckle. “Breathe, Ani.”

Overwhelmed at the newest intrusion, Anakin orgasms. His cock spurts up his belly in hot pulses, coming up the valley of his breasts, and a drip lands on his chin. His pussy gushes slick. As he slowly comes back into awareness, the wetness is concerning; there is a flash of worry at the amount, yet Anakin is too drunk on the orgasm’s power to linger in it.

“Oh, my good Omega,” purrs the Alpha. He pumps all three fingers through the tightness, working him through the orgasm and drawing out every last second of pleasure. “Look how you glow; utterly gorgeous, sweet thing.”

He cries out as another wash crests when Obi-Wan presses his fingers against a sensitive bundle of nerves.

Surely he will not survive the pleasure, he thinks hysterically as the waves roll together.

Obi-Wan chuckles, and Anakin realizes that their bond’s shields have blown wide at some point. “We have only started, darling.” His fingers yank out.

Anakin shudders as he embraces the all-consuming flare of his Alpha’s arousal and welcomes it into his own. Together, he closes his eyes, precisely where they have always meant to be.

He blinks open his eyes and finds a wide smile greeting him. Obi-Wan bends to steal a kiss from Anakin’s parted and chapped lips.

“Help me undress.”

They divest him of his tops in record time. Anakin’s hands are shaky, though his Master’s are more steady. Distraction hits Anakin after he pushes the last bit of material off Obi-Wan’s shoulders, discovering an abundance of freckles arranged like stars in a solar system.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, swirling his tongue from shoulder to collarbone to shoulder again. He peaks up to see his Master’s cheeks a rosy hue and he smiles. “You are. My beautiful Alpha.”

Obi-Wan tips his chin up, sealing a caress of a kiss.

Anakin mouths down Obi-Wan’s mouth, skirts the too tempting mating gland, and delights upon his Master Alpha’s chest. He buries his nose in the downy soft fur of chest hair, nuzzling down until his lips suction over a pert pink nipple. His other hand cups his Master’s right tit, fingers digging into the muscle.

He moans.

“Omega.” A yank on the Padawan braid is Anakin’s reward.

Well. Anakin considers it reward opposed to warning seeing as his Master hasn’t yanked him off his tit. He suckles and swirls his tongue, seeking out which isn’t there but yearning all the same.

“Up.” Obi-Wan jostles him, nearly dumping Anakin from his lap.

Protest opening his mouth, understand is slow to dawn. And then it clicks; Obi-Wan has slid his leggings down, the material bunched around his knees. Anakin’s mouth clicks shut. His eyes travel down down down and finds an angry red looking Alpha cock. Dizziness swoops his vision and belly.

That will go inside him?

He balks. For a brief second, anxiety creeps in as he begins to see why his Master had been insistent Anakin needed time to work up for it. He’s huge.

And the knot, his mind reminds him as his eyes travel south. The base of the knot is not inflated so Anakin cannot ascertain its proper size, though he imagines it is as large as the rest of his Alpha. The knot will have to fit, too. Somehow.

Anakin shivers.

The brief moment of anxiousness dies down, Anakin suffocating it with the efficiency of the bullheaded ambitiousness everyone always accuses him of touting. He will not back out. He wants Obi-Wan in every sense of the word; he will do what he must to overcome these nerves.

Obi-Wan will be his Alpha.

“Hello there, darling,” Obi-Wan smirks as he reads the riotous emotions dancing through their bond.

Anakin goes bashful, cheeks heating, and he bites his bottom lip, fighting the urge to look away. “Hello, my love.”

Obi-Wan smiles, something small and private that instantly calms Anakin. The Alpha tucks Anakin’s braid behind his ear. “Will you let me give you want you want now, sweet thing?”

Anakin nods.

He is lowered fully back down on Obi-Wan’s lap. The firmness of Obi-Wan’s erection causes Anakin to suck in a sharp breath, his body vibrating. He wants, he needs. He twists his hips back and forth, testing the feel of Obi-Wan and taking its measurement.

His instincts take over despite Anakin’s inexperience. The Omega knows how to prepare for an Alpha. Anakin gives into his secondary gender.

More slick produces, trickling out. Anakin grinds down, breath catching as he feels how it transfers onto Obi-Wan’s cock and smoothing out the slide. Their scents coalesce into a mouthwatering aroma, reminiscent to opening a confectioner’s shop door on a rainy day. Anakin melts into the scent, soothed and at ease. And then he curls around his Alpha, prompting Obi-Wan’s arms to circle his waist and shoulders.

“Take what you need,” a dark voice guides him as Anakin’s Alpha Master nibbles on his ear lobe. “Let the pleasure unfold. Don’t limit yourself; just feel.”

His next exhale is shaky, his mind catching up to his body as he comprehends Obi-Wan’s statement. His hips are twitching mindlessly, humping and grinding without Anakin’s permission. His pussy is soaked. Precum has saturated his pelvis and lower belly, what little hair he has there sticking to his skin. Beads of sweat roll in steady streams down his spine.

He thinks he could cum just from rutting.

His breath catches.

“Shh,” soothes Obi-Wan. “Here. Let me…,” he trails off, hands planting on Anakin’s hips; they waste no time in controlling the movements, Obi-Wan guiding Anakin’s hips to roll in larger circles. “Such a good boy, Anakin.”

His eyes roll back.

“Look how magnificent you are,” the wonder in his Alpha’s voice lights stars behind Anakin’s eyelids, a merry explosion of whites and reds inventing rebirth. “My good Omega.”

His hips falter, rhythm suffering as his belly clenches in warning. He tries to communicate, mouth parting on an airy whine, but his Alpha kisses the warning right off his tongue. Anakin moans into Obi-Wan’s open mouth as another dazzling orgasm rumbles through him.

A hand reaches down, bumping first against Anakin’s still full balls and the top of his pussy. Anakin moans, hands clawing up Obi-Wan’s back to find purchase and an anchor. Obi-Wan shushes him, though his hand continues on its path.

“Raise your hips for me, darling.” Obi-Wan instructs.

Anakin tries.

His Alpha huffs a noise of amusement. Then he tilts his thighs, forcing Anakin to move higher. 

Anakin squeaks, eyes flying open.

This time when Obi-Wan’s knuckles graze him a firmer weight follows it up.

He peers down. He truly is a sopping mess. His cock extended and glistening, its size average for a human male if a little longer than most Omega men, flat on his belly and the tip weeping. And through the mess of his cunt he sees a different cockhead, this one with a more bulbous mushroom head than Anakin’s own, the tip an angry looking red-purple like a fresh bruise.

The Alpha’s girth alone is bigger than any toy Anakin owns. After his presentation, he listened to his peers’ suggestions and chose average sized toys so he would not become accustomed to unrealistic sizes.

He kind of hates that he listened; he never feels full during his heats, but he’s chalked that problem up to the lack of Alpha assistance opposed to a size issue.

Obi-Wan fists the shaft to bring the head closer to Anakin’s opening.

His core clenches in anticipation, eyes trained down so he does not miss a minute of their joining.

“The tip,” Obi-Wan breathes, a trembling note barely perceptible as he rubs himself through Anakin’s slicked folds.

Every time the head passes over Anakin’s hole he whines. He pushes through to find words for a placating reply, “Of course. The tip.”

Seemingly satisfied, the Alpha nudges forward.

“Oh, fuck!” he howls as Obi-Wan breaches first the rim and then inside. Anakin is so full and the cockhead isn’t even entirely inside of him yet. Tears spring into his eyes. “Alpha!”

His Alpha growls, deep from his chest. Sweat gathers along his brow as concentration pulls down his expression. His upper lip pulls back slightly, showing off a glimpse of his distended canines.

Anakin wants his Alpha’s bite. Because how could the Force give him this and expect Anakin not to want all of it, all of his Alpha?

“Easy, sweet thing,” the Alpha cautions, though the words are less for the Omega and more himself. Anakin is focused on breathing through the pain and trying not to tense up; he wants all of his Master’s fat cock, which means he has to keep impossibly still. The Alpha is in charge. “Let’s go slow, hm?”

They breathe in together, and on the exhale Anakin feels his body loosen. And then the Alpha takes the opportunity to fuck up and the cockhead finally slips inside.

They cry out in tandem.

The training bond grows white and fuzzy, not unlike the noise in Anakin’s head deafening the usual chaotic cacophony. Physically, Anakin wraps his arms around his Alpha’s neck in search of an anchor, too afraid he will float away from the titillating sensations slamming into him. Within the Force, Anakin yanks on the bond as his mind begins to float higher and higher.

Obi-Wan tugging on Anakin’s Padawan braid crashes him back into his body. Their bond settles into a luminescent shine, maybe a shivering silver or more likely a glowing ultraviolet sheen. Obi-Wan’s touch tethers Anakin, and he does not let go.

“How do you feel, Omega?” The Alpha’s question is gruff despite the sincerity laced through the words.

Or perhaps Anakin knows the sincerity through the bond, understanding his Alpha Master’s intentions. Whatever the case, Anakin does not bother investigating, his Omegan instincts taking the reins.

“Ready, Alpha,” he answers, voice reedy and unusually high pitched. To his own ears he sounds like a needy Padawan, and a faint dusting of embarrassment colors the tips of his ears.

Obi-Wan’s touch gentles, hands running through the spikes of Anakin’s hair. “Always eager for more, aren’t you, my treasure?”

“Just want you, Alpha,” he pants, hips tilting back experimentally. He shudders and shakes as the head slips out slightly and then pops back inside, little ah ah ahs parting his lips.

“You have me,” promises Obi-Wan. His trembling kicks up a notch, specifically in his thighs and sends Anakin’s lower half to tremble with him.

Anakin feels feverish.

“All of you,” he insists through gritted teeth. He arches his back and moans in satisfaction as more of the shaft slips inside. “Don’t you want to please your Omega, Alpha?”

Obi-Wan hisses, snapping his teeth in Anakin’s face.

But the Omega is not so easily cowed. Anakin winks. “If I do all the work, I don’t think it counts as you not fucking me… what do you think, Alpha?”

“Omega,” warns the Alpha, a rasp the only indicator of his slipping patience. A rough touch slaps onto Anakin’s hipbones and applies pressure in a bid to halt Anakin’s further attempts fucking himself full of his Alpha’s prick. “You will take what I give you and be my good boy.”

Anakin groans, head lulling back. “I need you, Alpha. Don’t you want to remind me what I could have missed out on? I almost never had you this way—”

Smack!

Anakin squeals, eyes flying open, as Obi-Wan’s palm connects with Anakin’s already sore backside.

“Conniving Omega,” snarls the Alpha. His hand roams up and down Anakin’s bottom, fingernails every so often digging into the inflamed skin. “Of course you would never be satisfied with toys when you could have your Alpha’s fat cock splitting you open.”

Anakin squirms, but cannot go far when his Alpha grips tighter to his lower half. “I can take it, Master.”

Obi-Wan huffs.

“Don’t you want to claim me?” The Omega is persistent, crooning the words softly in his Alpha’s ear, fingers scratching through thick auburn hair, tongue swirling patterns at a pounding pulse point. “I want you to claim me, Alpha. Make me yours.”

Reflexively, Obi-Wan’s hips tip up and feed more of his cock into Anakin’s needy little hole.

Anakin knows success will taste sweeter if he can unleash the Alpha entirely. So he goes in for the metaphorical kill.

His lips hover over Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, tongue poking out to wet the corners of his Master’s mouth. “Make me forget about her.”

The Alpha snarls. “My Omega,” the claim is possessive and saturated in burnt smelling pheromones the Omega in question could choke on its thickness. He digs his nails into Anakin’s asscheeks, dragging down down down….

“Ah!” Anakin sobs, vision blurring as Obi-Wan fucks up and buries himself to the hilt in one long motion. Anakin is achingly, excruciatingly full. Surely his Alpha Master’s cock sits inside his belly now, he’s so full, fuck! “Alpha!” Wild and half-mad to cockdrunk, Anakin glances down to see if his stomach is distended.

It isn’t; and Anakin nearly wants to cry.

“Is it like you imagined?” Obi-Wan murmurs, mouth sucking on Anakin’s ear. “You are lucky you are gushing slick; I’m not small by any means. I’m so proud, darling, you took all of me so perfectly, my rare little treasure.”

His eyes roll back. His back arches. “You’re perfect, Alpha.” Anakin never, ever wants to leave this spot.

The Alpha hums a pleased little tune. “You were right; you were made for me, Padawan.” His Master rolls his hips in easy motions, slowing the pace down now that he has fully sheathed himself once. Anakin appreciates it. “Your tight little pussy was made for your Master’s fat cock.”

Anakin gasps. He leans forward until his forehead rests on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His nose so close to his Alpha’s unblemished scent gland. “Want you,” he cries under his breath, staring at the skin with tears in his eyes. So much need courses through him that he cannot articulate; it doesn’t make sense because he has his Alpha, and yet the inner Omega cries out it isn’t enough.

A hand soothes down his back, sitting possessively where it dips just above the curve of his ass. “You do, darling; you have me.”

Two pillows float down from the couch. Anakin is chuffed at the blatant and frivolous misuse of the Force display, watching as the pillows settle beside them. Yet he does not comment on it, excitement curling his belly as he contemplates what plans his Alpha has in mind.

He doesn’t have to imagine long. The Alpha’s arms slide under Anakin’s hips and bottom, hefting him up a moment later, and then he uses his weight to tip them backwards. Anakin is set on the pillows, one cushioning his head and the second propping up his hips.

“Alpha, no,” he bemoans the loss of his Alpha’s cock as the rearranging caused them to separate.

“Have patience.” The Alpha hushes him, a hand running down his flank. “Widen your knees,” he instructs, a glint in his gaze.

The command isn’t even laced with Alpha voice yet precum dribbles and coats Anakin’s belly as if he had been ordered.

Anakin blushes, conscious how much more on display he is, his pussy fluttering as he does as bid, his hands sliding down to latch onto the back of his knees. “Like this, Alpha?” A part of him wants to close his legs, but seeing the manic gaze his Master sweeps over him calms his nerves, boosts his self-esteem. He opens his legs more. “Is this how you want me?”

Thicker hands rove up the backs of Anakin’s thighs, while Obi-Wan chews on his lower lip. “Yes, sweet Omega,” his normal tenor pitches low, reverent like the devout prostrated before an alter. “You’re perfect, what did I tell you?” Obi-Wan applies pressure against the back of Anakin’s thighs, pushing the Omega harder onto the floor.

His teeth chatter, heat fanning from his core throughout his whole body. He might combust, he thinks hysterically, die right here in Obi-Wan’s arms from too much pleasure.

Obi-Wan rubs his cock up and down Anakin’s slit, roaming from hole to clit to the back of Anakin’s balls over again and again.

Frustration mounts, forcing Anakin to whimper out a pathetic, “Then use me, Alpha.”

The words have their desired effect.

“With pleasure, little treasure.” His Alpha winks, a wide smirk splitting apart his lips and displaying his canines once more.

Impatience bubbles through his gut when his Alpha still does not instantaneously fill Anakin’s needy pussy. With a grunt, his hand slides down his belly, fingers gathering copious amounts of precum, grasping his neglected prick.

Obi-Wan swats the Omega’s flank. “Hands off.” Here, the Alpha plants on hand next to Anakin’s left bicep and the other palm molds to the curve connecting the curve of thigh and bottom. “You belong to me now, Omega. By the end of this, the only word and name you will know is Alpha and my name. Because I will be the only one giving you pleasure.”

“Yes! Yours!” Anakin inhales sharply, his toes curling at the lewd promise hanging heavy between them. He is opening his mouth to retort when Obi-Wan fits the head of his cock against Anakin’s hole and shoves.

Finally, Obi-Wan’s cock fits snug against Anakin’s hole. One, two, three seconds are spent teasing before the Alpha shoves.

He keens. His whole body responds to the stimuli; back arching high, head slamming back against the pillow. The fingers holding his thighs in place dig fingernails. “Alpha!”

“That’s right,” grunts Obi-Wan, hips already pulling back and jolting forward. He sets a quick pace, thrusts short and harsh, fucking into Anakin with a singleminded determination. “Let me hear you sing for me.”

His mind whites out.

Anakin is so full that his mind cannot focus on much else; the swimming idea of this Alpha taking care of him during heats and breeding him and then—Anakin’s breath catches in his throat because oh Force help him his Alpha’s knot. 

Alphas very rarely knot outside of heats and ruts. At least, that’s what Anakin has always been led to believe. Except… oh kark, he screws his eyes shut. There’s Obi-Wan’s.

“Eyes on me, darling.”

Anakin’s eyes fly open and blinks up at his Alpha. He wraps his arms around the older man’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

Which his Alpha immediately turns dirty, licking the backs of his teeth and trying his level best to fuck his tongue down the back of Anakin’s throat. The Alpha’s fucking pace slows as a result, and he grinds down instead.

The Alpha’s knot swells against Anakin’s rim.

“Oh!” he blurts out, but his Alpha swallows up the exclamation.

Obi-Wan sucks on the tip of Anakin’s tongue, then he finally pulls away. His beard is coated in their combined spit. “I promise all of it will fit,” the words are a testament to how open their training bond is at the moment. “Your body is loosening up for your heat, I bet you will start tomorrow.”

Anakin shakes his head, protesting a weak little, “It’s still two or three days off.”

Obi-Wan sits back on his haunches, his cock dragging slowly along Anakin’s tight walls. “You’re too wet to be that far out.”

Anakin blushes, hating how the heat goes from the tips of his ears down his chest. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the Alpha’s knowledge and expertise, especially when Anakin’s nipples and chest suddenly feel heavy, a sure sign heat is on the horizon, and the karking Alpha is right. “And you’re an expert on heats?”

“Arms above your head.” The command is curt, the Alpha knowing the Omega will obey without question. As Anakin stretches his arms over his head, Obi-Wan pulls out, bending forward to shove Anakin’s knees up nearly into his arm pits.

“Alpha,” pouts Anakin.

Smack!

Anakin’s cock leaks more precum, the liquid gathering in his bellybutton and then slipping down down down into the little bit of pubic hair. His balls draw up. He tries to wiggle around, but with his low back and hips in the air from the new position his Alpha has contorted him into, Anakin winds up humping the air.

Anakin’s Master Alpha snaps his teeth, smile borderline vicious. “I know more about heats than your little Beta. I know how to satisfy my Omegas.”

It is Anakin’s turn to snarl now. “No others. Never again; you’re mine now.”

Obi-Wan’s smirk curls both corners of his mouth, pleased Alpha a heady scent overtop the scent of sex. “Then you best believe your Alpha and trust he knows the signs of your body. My knot wouldn’t be swelling if you weren’t showing marked signs of heat.”

Anakin tries to glance down at said knot, but he’d forgotten his own body blocks the view. The new position has sent his weeping dick higher up his belly and it draws attention to the dried cum patches across his chest.

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

Anakin flushes, but nods in concession.

The Alpha shuffles closer, rising enough until his hips are flush with Anakin’s. A hand rubs up and down the Omega’s sensitive flank. And then the Alpha’s weight drapes over Anakin’s exposed center, thick hands gripping on both of Anakin’s forearms, and finally the hard length of cock slips back where it belongs.

“Oh, fuck,” they groan together.

The angle itself isn’t comfortable; folded in half as hard as he is, each of Obi-Wan’s thrusts are felt in Anakin’s neck and he has to make a marked effort not to bite his tongue. Until his head slips down the pillow more and the space between neck and chest opens up; then, Anakin is better able to focus on the new feeling of Obi-Wan’s fat cock splitting him open.

He stares up at his Alpha, whose face is screwed up in concentration. His Master Alpha fucks into him in little wave like movements, the sound of skin on skin slapping loud in the otherwise quiet common room. Anakin can feel the power in his Alpha’s physique, a moment of quiet awe filling him knowing this man could do anything to Anakin in this moment and the Omega wouldn’t object.

When Obi-Wan pulls out again, this time Anakin doesn’t object. Instead, he stretches out as soon as Obi-Wan releases him and whines at the pull in cramped leg muscles. He blinks back at the Alpha standing above him, who is lazily stroking his cock staring at Anakin with a reverent air.

“How do you want to finish?”

Anakin gives the Alpha’s question brief consideration. His pheromones are near choking they have gone so sweet and his instincts urge Anakin to flip onto his belly and present like a good Omega. Yet he finds his throat dried out; he sends the image through he bond.

“Excellent choice, darling.” Obi-Wan praises.

They rearrange once more. Anakin turns onto hands and knees, but he widens his stance with both pillows under his knees, upper body propped up by his forearms. His Alpha tilts Anakin’s hips higher in the air, forcing his back to arch sharper, as the older man shuffles back into position. Anakin glances over his shoulder. His Alpha bends on one knee and then plants the other leg at a ninety degree angle.

Obi-Wan grasps Anakin’s hips and feeds his fluttering hole his fat cock. This time he does not wait, immediately fucking hard and fast. Anakin’s untouched prick swings heavy between his thighs. The sound of their coupling is more obscene in this position, Anakin’s slick abundant, the messiness apparent as fluid trickles down his inner thighs each time Obi-Wan shoves in or pulls out. If Anakin glances down he watches fluid drip onto the pillows and floor.

Smack!

Anakin buries his face into the pillow, biting on the corner as he bites back a wail. He is so, so close to cumming.

He reaches back for one knee, dipping forward and opening himself up just the tiniest bit more. His Alpha’s fat cockhead finds a bundle of nerves that set Anakin’s soul to flames. He keens.

“My good Omega.” His Alpha drills that special spot, grunting and huffing all the while with the occasionally muffled curse slipping out. Another smack lands on Anakin’s ass. “You have my permission to cum whenever you need it, little treasure.”

Anakin mewls, fingers clawing at the rug. “Alpha, Alpha!”

Obi-Wan reaches one hand under and grasps onto Anakin’s cock. Stars burst behind his eyelids, the feel of his Master’s palm enough to bring his body to quake. The Alpha gives a few experimental tugs.

Anakin’s upper body gives up and he barely catches the fall with the pillow he’d been biting on moments earlier. He turns his cheek onto the pillow as Obi-Wan continues to fuck him in short, hard thrusts.

Next, Obi-Wan drapes himself over Anakin’s back. “Here,” the command is soft, easily overlooked when an insistent mouth latches onto Anakin’s own. Obi-Wan moans into the kiss. The hand on Anakin’s prick goes higher and begins to pluck on one of Anakin’s nipples.

Anakin whimpers and his core tightens with the looming promise of another orgasm.

The grinding against the bundle of nerves deep inside him goes teasing, sending lightning up Anakin’s spine, and tears to spill over.

“Alpha,” the whine is pitiful and Anakin sniffles.

As if reading his mind, his Alpha pumps his hips until Anakin is shoved forward, the rug burn bright, but the pain is inviting. The hand on his nipple and hip disappear, and Anakin has no time to wonder where Obi-Wan’s touch will go next because they land on the back of his neck.

Anakin falls lax.

Although the Alpha is not scruffing him, the pressure is similar enough that it tricks his Omegan instincts.

He’s right there… the edge right—

Obi-Wan nuzzles the side of Anakin’s face, his tongue prodding the shell of his ear. “Cum for me, Anakin.” And a hand curls around Anakin’s Padawan braid and tugs.

What else is there to do by obey?

“Alpha!” Anakin screams as he falls apart, vision sparking then whiting out, voice cracking, and body seizes up.

Obi-Wan fucks him through it, dirty expletives deepening his posh accent and prolonging Anakin’s pleasure. The Alpha uses his hold on Anakin’s neck to bring him upright, hips never faltering.

Anakin reaches back to clutch at the Alpha’s knees. His head lulls back on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan’s rhythm kicks up, the Alpha panting and moaning, chasing his own release now that his Omega has been satisfied.

“Alpha,” he has to clear his throat a couple times to get the title out properly and then heard over the slapping of their skin. “Cum in me, Alpha; fill up my greedy little hole.”

Obi-Wan’s hips finally stutter, the Alpha groaning. His head falls on the back of Anakin’s shoulder as he chases ecstasy. The knot has inflated by this point, catching on Anakin’s overly sensitive and puffy rim his Alpha continues to abuse.

His toes curl, but he wants it. He breathes through his nose, closing his eyes as he concentrates on keeping his body loose and pliant. He clenches down.

“Anakin!”

Teeth pierce skin and mark Anakin’s scent gland at the side of his neck.

“Alpha!” The Omega whines as another, albeit smaller, orgasm rolls through Anakin’s core and he cries out.

Obi-Wan moans as he finishes, hot spurts of cum coating the inside of Anakin’s walls, and he grinds the knot past Anakin’s rim. It pops in. Once connected, more cum shoots out, Obi-Wan’s hips stuttering to a stop, as both Omega and Alpha moan together as the knot locks them in place.

Slick coats his thighs and somehow manages to slip through the knot tying him and his Alpha together.

Anakin’s head spins, thoughts slow to process the knot in his pussy and teethmarks on his neck.

What the kriff just happened?