Anakin could tell that his master was tiring. Obi-Wan’s breathing came in short, labored gasps, and his movements, even Force-aided, were slower than before. The apprentice had eased his attacks for the last few minutes, hoping for exactly this, to wear his master down. When he saw Obi-Wan stumble over what should have been a routine block, he pressed his advantage. Gathering his strength and the Force, he unleashed a barrage of blows, left and right, up and down, that practically forced his master backwards onto his rear.
“Whoa!” Obi-Wan gasped in surprise as Anakin’s green blade nearly singed some hair that had fallen into his eyes. He was forced to release one hand from his saber to catch himself on the wall behind him. “Are you trying to kill me, my Padawan?”
“No, Master,” Anakin huffed as he swung his saber in a wide arc that would have cleaved Obi-Wan in two if he’d really been trying. “I’m merely channeling my tension into this exercise, like you suggested.”
When Anakin’s blade hissed past him, Obi-Wan pushed himself off from the wall and jumped, up and over Anakin’s head, landing behind his apprentice with a grunt. “You…could…have…fooled—Oh!”
Anakin, anticipating the move, was already facing his master. Before Obi-Wan could get another two-handed defensive grip on his lightsaber, Anakin flicked his wrist beneath Obi-Wan’s grasp, sending his master’s silver handle flying across the room to clatter on the floor. He tossed his own to join it. “I win,” he breathed heavily.
And threw himself at Obi-Wan. He grabbed his master’s wrists and knocked him to the floor, pinning him down, feeling the other man’s breath forced out in a whoosh at the sudden weight. “Oh, Master,” he sighed, and fastened his lips on Obi-Wan’s.
Obi-Wan, drained, was powerless to fight. All was going according to Anakin’s plan. The young man felt his master’s lips ease open beneath his own, his heated breaths filling Anakin with passion. He released one of Obi-Wan’s hands to bring his own up to his master’s face as he kissed him hungrily, to caress it, running over rough beard and slippery cheekbones to smooth back the sweat-dampened strands of hair.
After a few moments of this determined passion, Obi-Wan’s form beneath him relaxed as he returned his padawan’s embrace. Anakin’s thrill of the fight transferred to thrilling at the sensation of his master’s heated mouth and warm, solid body. He tightened his grip on the hand he clutched above his master’s head, and stretched out, burrowing into the frame beneath him, legs curling to trap Obi-Wan further.
The more than pleasant experience was interrupted when Obi-Wan’s freed hand jerked up to capture Anakin on the chin. The hand snapped his head back, surprising Anakin enough for Obi-Wan to pull back.
His master’s eyes were glazed with exhaustion and something else, something Anakin wanted to explore further. Before he had a chance, Obi-Wan managed to speak.
“Anakin,” he breathed, using what strength he retained to hold his padawan’s determined lips away for a moment. “You learn too quickly, my young apprentice. You don’t need any more lessons…”
“Just consider it practice, Master,” Anakin said. A clever and irresistible grin sneaked onto his face. He removed Obi-Wan’s strengthless hand from his chin, entwined their fingers, and leaned forward. It was not to renew his attack on his master’s mouth, but to embark on a reconnaissance mission to his master’s earlobe. He nibbled it for a moment, and breathed, slyly, “You want to make sure I can keep my wife happy, don’t you?”
A shiver ran through Obi-Wan’s body at the onslaught to this sensitive spot. “Your wife seems perfectly happy to me,” he gasped out.
“Well, then, it’s your turn,” Anakin riposted, and stuck his tongue into Obi-Wan’s ear.
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“Oooh! I wish I knew what they were saying!” shrieked Padme as she watched the passionate drama unfold on the screen. She turned an accusing look on her handmaidens. “Which one of you was it that convinced me I didn’t need sound on this thing?”
“Neither, my lady,” replied Eirtae, sneaking a peek around her mistress at the vid. “You decided that yourself, remember?”
“Yes,” agreed Dorme, who didn’t even pretend to be sneaky, but shoved her mistress out of the way of the screen. “And now it seems you might have ammunition for blackmail. But how are you going to explain the fact that you had cameras installed in Master Obi-Wan’s quarters?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe I won’t have to,” mused Padme, looking thoughtful as she turned back to watch her husband plaster himself all over his handsome master. “You girls will help me, of course.” It wasn’t a question.
“Always, my lady,” sighed Eirtae. “Now, will you please get out of my way?”
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“Oh, Ani,” moaned Obi-Wan as his apprentice’s tongue sent chills through his body. “You know I can’t resist this.”
“Then don’t,” replied Anakin ruthlessly as he pushed himself up to stare down into his master’s blue eyes. “Just be prepared for a long practice. And call me Ani again.”
“Ani,” said Obi-Wan, and closed his eyes as all fight went out of him.
Anakin had to struggle not to finish everything then and there. But the few moments away from has master’s mouth had given Anakin renewed endurance. He was prepared to make this a very long practice.
How long had he waited to have his master all to himself? It seemed forever. Anakin loved his wife, and was more than thrilled with their improved lovemaking. But that one night with Obi-Wan and Padme had hardly served to quench his desire for his master. After all, he’d only renewed his acquaintance with Padme mere months ago, and he’d spent every day of the last eleven years with Obi-Wan.
Eleven long years, nearly every moment a new torture, watching his handsome, powerful master in awe. Wondering at the calm, compact exterior, and dying to know what lay beneath it. On that first night with Padme, he’d found out, and was burned by it. Now, every day and many nights since, he’d watched his master move about the Temple on one duty or another, forced to speculate on how Obi-Wan’s amazing, hidden talent for pleasure was being put to use. And he became more and more determined to put it to use himself.
Here was his chance. But he still didn’t completely trust his master’s current submission. Abandoning for the moment his opportunity to kiss Obi-Wan’s mouth again, he caught both of the other Jedi’s hands in one of his own. He slid the other down Obi-Wan’s chest, over and through the soft hairs on his slick belly, down to the damp waistband of his master’s trousers. He let his hand linger there for a moment, enjoying the sound of Obi-Wan’s labored breathing.
He shifted his weight to his abdomen, pressing Obi-Wan’s hips down as he used his heels to capture his master’s boots. He kicked them off without even the slightest application of the Force. “You need new boots, Master,” he whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear as his fingertips teased the cloth at his waist. “Those are too loose.”
“Unhh,” was all Obi-Wan could manage.
“And these trousers,” Anakin continued, as he rolled onto his side, bringing his master with him, the older Jedi’s hands still captured in his own larger one above their heads. He slipped his free hand into to the top of said trousers, ever so slightly, and ran his palm over Obi-Wan’s hip. “There’s too much of them.”
His thumb explored the soft skin in the valley between Obi-Wan’s hipbone and inner thigh. He marveled at the way his master’s muscles jumped imperceptibly and involuntarily at the caress. He was so different from Padme, he mused. Despite the intelligent power she wielded with such authority and skill, she was more than feminine. She was all softness, and translucent and perfumed skin.
No one could mistake the body beneath him as feminine. But Anakin found it no less exciting.
He reached around to grasp the offending cloth and pulled it down, watching happily as more and more masculine skin was revealed to his interested gaze. Inch after inch of Obi-Wan’s golden, lightly haired form appeared, from his impressive genitals, to equally impressive muscled thighs and knees, to—
Anakin glanced up, realizing he was being watched. Obi-Wan’s eyes had opened, and had been looking on as his padawan was busy observing his own actions. At the sight of the desire in those darkened blue pools, Anakin’s control blasted away into oblivion. He rolled violently back on top of his master, using his booted feet to kick off Obi-Wan’s trousers as he had the boots earlier. He recaptured Obi-Wan’s hand in both his own again, entwining his strong, slender fingers in those of his master’s, and went in for the kill.
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“Wow. How very interesting,” whispered Dorme. “Do all Jedi behave this way?”
“Huh?” Padme and Eirtae asked in unison. They didn’t even turn to look at her.
Dorme wasn’t that concerned with an answer anyway.
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