Anakin was enjoying himself thoroughly. This was not a surprise to him: indulging in lovemaking was one of his favorite of the proscribed pastimes for a Jedi. Normally his friend would not be his choice of partner, but he couldn’t deny it: he was making love to Obi-Wan as much as he’d ever made love to his wife. And having Obi-Wan the Ever-Calm at his mercy was an added bonus.
Just as an experiment, he slid his mouth across Obi-Wan’s bearded chin, savoring the new sensation of prickly hairs brushing his lips, and breathed on the underside of his jaw. He felt the shudder and the vibration of the moan he’d won, and his tongue could feel the erratic beat of the vein pulsing beneath it.
Obi-Wan wasn’t the experiment’s only subject. When Mazhi had ordered this scenario Anakin had been reluctant yet undeniably curious. How interesting would it be to kiss Obi-Wan, who was the essence of repressed Jedi?
It had turned out to be pretty damned interesting after all. Obi-Wan’s mouth was soft, human. Anakin’s blood was already up after his earlier encounter and this experience only pushed it further. He wondered how far he could go, how far he could enjoy himself, and whether or not it would be expected or right. Obi-Wan might like it now but later there would be a price, and Anakin really had no score to settle with him, past proving he could do this, that was.
Truth be told, Anakin justified, Obi-Wan had been the one to agree to their capture… to this whole situation. And it was obvious he needed the fleshly contact, just as it was obvious he hadn’t found it with the Queen.
His pulse tasted wonderful, and the skin of the chest heaving beneath Anakin’s was sticky and alive. And all was the more intense because it was familiar and yet not, to be this aroused with someone he knew so well.
Anakin didn’t care anymore that their captors were watching. He would do what he wanted, and what was necessary to the now. Still holding Obi-Wan’s jaw steady with his biomechanical hand, he slid bare fingers down across Obi-Wan’s soft belly, beneath the pillow smashed between them.
It was only a slight surprise to feel the hot, dry skin of Obi-Wan’s erection meet his fingertips. Mostly Anakin was glad to not be the only one to be excited by all this. His grasp slipped around it and tugged, tentative. Obi-Wan, startled, gasped into his mouth, lingered a second too long, then jerked his body and tried to pull away. Anakin didn’t let go.
"No, Anakin," Obi-Wan pled with him, blue eyes agonized, breathing heavy. Anakin tightened his grip, a hard stroke, and Obi-Wan’s deep breaths hitched, just slightly.
Anakin knew he was doing the right thing. "Relax," he breathed a second time, this time meaning it. "I’m trying to help you."
He kissed Obi-Wan again, swallowing his protests. Several long, tight strokes beneath the pillow and Obi-Wan shuddered. Anakin felt his pain—his own was terrible.
"Anakin, no." Obi-Wan was hoarse, desperate now, excited but embarrassed.
"Shhh," he whispered in reply, biting Obi-Wan’s soft lower lip in an attempt to distract him from the silent, watching women. They’d gone this far, and he was determined to finish it no matter who saw them. He had to do this. "Pointless to stop now."
He breathed hot in Obi-Wan’s ear, feeling the shivered replying breaths against his cheek. His fingers found a steady, hard rhythm beneath the pillow. Obi-Wan’s body stilled as he gave up and held on for dear life, fingers clutching at Anakin’s shoulders, digging into his skin.
Anakin pulled away to watch as his strokes reached their goal. It was lovely to see—Obi-Wan was nothing like himself, but more human, unrestrained. He felt it through their pressed-together skin as every muscle Obi-Wan had contracted inwards, and was released in an "Ah!" torn from his throat. Sharp breaths and a hot stickiness against Anakin’s hand, slickening his grip.
He relaxed his fingers slowly, knowing how sensitive the skin of Obi-Wan’s cock would be now, because his own was aching. He reveled in it, thrilled with the whole experience, this glimpse into Obi-Wan as a soul with human failings; thrilled to have shared it all with someone he trusted. He wondered whether Obi-Wan might forgive him long enough to touch him in return, and whether or not he could bear it, the strangeness and excitement of it all.
After a few moments he risked a glance at Obi-Wan’s face. His blond hair was in disarray, but his blue eyes were coming back into focus, and intent.
Etched across his irises was intent to kill Anakin.
Alarmed, Anakin scrambled off to lean against the wall, just out of Obi-Wan’s reach. No words were spoken. They just glared at each other for a full minute, both of them still breathing heavily. Anakin tried to decide if he’d done the right thing after all. What if Obi-Wan never forgave him for taking the liberties he had?
The Queen spoke, startling them both. "Well done," she said, laughing and clasping her hands. "Come here, young man."
Trying to play it cool, Anakin stood, uncaring that his own erection was more than visible, and sauntered over to the bed where the Queen held her own naked court. He never glanced at the other woman.
There was no need. The Queen’s eyes gleamed. Anakin knew what she wanted.
What the heck, he thought. His erotic frustration at the moment wasn’t for her. It was more private, something that would have to be dealt with later. But right then, it seemed, he wasn’t going to get a better offer from any of the other inhabitants of the room.
And Mazhi could be relegated to watching again. The thought made him feel much better.
***
Obi-Wan just couldn’t watch. He couldn’t watch Anakin make a further spectacle of himself, throwing himself headlong into the part they were to play.
Like he’d thrown himself into what had just happened. Obi-Wan wasn’t really angry at what Anakin had done—the usual litany invaded his mind, that the whole thing was partially his fault, for agreeing to the scenario. And he had to admit that he had…enjoyed it. He just hadn’t liked Anakin making a spectacle of him.
He kept his head turned, but could still hear the erotic noises emanating from the direction of the bed. A last vestige of pride kept him from clapping his hands over his ears.
Weren’t they ever going to get tired?
His solitary, taciturn grumblings were interrupted by the arrival of the advisor. She sat down next to him, silent for a few moments.
"He’s like an… indefatigable force of nature," she finally said. Her voice sounded wistful, something Obi-Wan would not have expected from her. At least in relation to Anakin.
"Indeed," was Obi-Wan’s careful reply.
The force of nature was finally tiring itself out, if the cessation of most of the noise was any indication. Quiet laughter, low talk, then the Queen, splayed out upon the bed in a happy languor. "Quite enough excitement for one evening," she said, kicking one bare foot in a last burst of energy. "Mazhi, call the guards and have these two escorted back to the servant’s quarters."
"As you wish." Mazhi was crisp, businesslike again. Obi-Wan just had time to find his shirt and trousers and dress before the women came to take them away. Mazhi gestured, and one of the guards tossed a drapery from a chair at Anakin.
Serves him right, though Obi-Wan, uncharitably. The guards led them off, Obi-Wan following at a discreet distance.
Anakin hung back and walked silently beside him. It was an uncomfortable, heavy silence. A sigh from Anakin, then finally speech. "You have to speak to me again sometime."
"You really, really didn’t have to do that, Anakin." Obi-Wan knew Anakin was correct, but still he let his remaining frustration color his quiet tone. "At least not… quite in that way."
"I’m sorry, Master," Anakin said. What was odd was that he did sound apologetic.
"You didn’t have to prove your point on me. I’d hoped I’d earned your respect more than that."
"That’s not what I was doing," Anakin said.
"Well then, what were you doing?"
"I don’t know." Anakin sounded… sad. Obi-Wan hadn’t expected that.
He, Obi-Wan, remembered that he had started this. Anakin had just finished it. This is what Obi-Wan got for making the decision he had, without—and there he was, reciting the litany of guilt and blame again. How typical. And how tiring, and thoroughly annoying, that game was becoming. Humor returned. If Obi-Wan couldn’t laugh at himself, at whom could he laugh?
"I’m going to have to make love with one of them now, you know that," he said, lightening his tone. "If only to prove that I’m not attracted to you."
Anakin chuckled. "I did go a little overboard, didn’t I?"
He sounded apologetic, but not regretful. Pure Anakin. Obi-Wan wondered how he himself really felt.
***
Light seeped through his eyelids. Anakin woke next to Obi-Wan, not touching him, but hearing his snores. They’d been given one cot to sleep in, large enough, but still not how he preferred to sleep. He rather thought he preferred sleeping next to Padme. She didn’t snore.
But Padme wasn’t here now, and Obi-Wan was. In the light of morning the night before seemed odd, distant, like something that had happened to someone else. It was discomforting. Anakin liked to remember. He thought harder.
Snippets of memory returned, those connected with emotion—Obi-Wan kissing him, Obi-Wan angry at him. The Queen, only a job, not personal. Anger at Mazhi slid away, was gone. She was a nobody, and would not matter to his life in any stretch of a long run. But Obi-Wan he would have to live with. It probably shouldn’t have happened. But it had happened, it was there in both their memories, and there really was nothing he could do about it now. He’d already apologized. What more was there to do?
Do it again? a small, secret voice asked. Anakin mentally bashed the secret voice into silence with secret, mental fists. Lust was one emotion he could handle. In his own good time. Curiosity was harder to manage.
"Snork?" Apparently Obi-Wan was awake. He stirred, rolled over. Bleary blue eyes regained slow focus. "Oh, it’s you. We’re still here, I see."
"Yes." Anakin didn’t risk another comment.
"And we’re not alone." Obi-Wan looked around at the other servants beginning to wake and move about.
"No."
Phomn, the only other servant they’d yet spoken to for any length of time, came over to them. "You need to rise," he said. "Though of course I cannot command you, only suggest."
"Of course." Obi-Wan’s tone was dry.
"Your duties are to be the same as yesterday."
"All of them?" Anakin had to ask.
"Yes. You will be on guard again."
"Great," Anakin said with a good deal of sarcasm. At Phomn’s look of horror he held all other quips at bay.
Boredom. Sitting. Lunch. Boredom. Mazhi ordering Anakin to complete trivial tasks. Anakin ignoring her as much as possible. He knew it drove her crazy, but that was only of slight interest. He barely even wanted to kill her today.
The end of the Queen’s meetings, the call to leave, following the Queen and Mazhi.
Surprise. Obi-Wan was called to visit the Queen again. What, he hadn’t talked at her enough last time?
No surprise in store for Anakin. He followed Mazhi to her room, wondering what was going on elsewhere. Was Obi-Wan fulfilling his wish to reassert his masculinity?
Mazhi’s sharp voice penetrated his haze of indifference. "Are you deaf as well as insolent? I told you to remove your clothing."
He didn’t even bother to reply, but simply yanked off the shirt and trousers, every motion mechanical, a stark change from the night before. And it bothered her, he could tell. A little crease formed between her dark brows, and then smoothed itself out as she realized he was watching.
"Lie down."
They’d been here before. She wasn’t very original. Naked, he reclined, and stared at the ceiling. Was Obi-Wan really over it? His every stiff muscle had screamed his tension as they’d separated this evening. Would the Queen be able to rouse him from it?
"You are not listening, you impertinent boy!" Mazhi practically shrieked. Anakin tried to focus on her; she stood over him, chin thrown back, chest thrown forward, begging him to want her, sulky because she didn’t have his attention. Couldn’t reignite the fire that had burned the night before. But Anakin just couldn’t indulge her, this time.
"No," he admitted.
"You are thinking about that other woman." She sounded petulant.
"Of course." Actually he hadn’t been, but it was as good an excuse as any. Briefly he considered saying, my wife, but that wasn’t a secret he could afford to reveal, especially to her.
Rather than lashing out or berating him, as he’d expected, she only said "hmph" and plopped onto the bed, arms crossed.
So Anakin lay back and waited.
***
Obi-Wan was having better luck with Phebe this time. So far he’d managed to stay next to her when he’d removed her dress, and had managed not to say anything stupid to excite her pity.
He was a servant, this was expected of him, and he would be gone soon, he told himself. It took a little work to release his lingering pique at her for her behavior toward him last night. But this time, she didn’t humiliate him by trying to impose her will upon him. He knew her a little better now, had seen her in action, both in the bedroom and out of it. Her body he could admire, soft yet toned, warm pressed against him.
And she didn’t try to make him kiss her, only let him hold her, let him relax. The familiar slow spread of desire trickled through his veins, intensified by the touch of her fingertips on his shoulders, his arms; the touch of her lips on the underside of his jaw, admittedly a weak spot, gave him a shiver.
He wanted to erase her memories of the previous evening. His own, he would have to deal with himself.
He wondered vaguely if this was what Anakin had felt—this need to prove himself. The thought spurred him on, drove his hands to push her to the bed, to crawl atop her. Why, Obi-Wan didn’t want to analyze at the moment, because then he was buried inside her, and this was what it was supposed to feel like, and the rhythm was all his own, his choice.
***
Anakin lay in the cot in the servant’s quarters, alone. Mazhi had simply stared at him for a few minutes, allowing him to daydream, private thoughts. Finally she’d signaled for the guards to return, her voice laced with disappointment and disgust that she couldn’t hide under her mask of female superiority. Her Jedi toy had not been as much fun, tonight.
He wondered how Obi-Wan was faring. Was he talking the Queen’s ears off again, or was he actually getting something productive done? And why should Anakin care, or feel slightly…jealous?
He knew what his problem was. Things were unfinished, and that always drove him crazy. In looking for a truth to cling to—in holding steadfastly to a perverse desire to Show Them All, he’d started something and it had not been followed through to its natural conclusion. And he wanted to know what might have happened if it had. Passions ruled him and they always had. Normally he could use the Force to ease that. But his connection to it was severed, all here was severed from the real world where Obi-Wan was his fighting partner and friend and he himself was The Jedi Without Fear. Here, he was lost, adrift, with focus but without appropriate focus.
All was silent, the other servants asleep in their own cubbyholes scattered about the walls of the chamber. They were tired after a long day of actual work. Anakin lay there awake, and remembered other times when he’d thought he’d kill for the ability to get five minutes’ rest. Here he had an abundance of time, but couldn’t make use of it.
So what was Obi-Wan doing? Was he even now expending all that passionate energy on the Queen? Perhaps finding her more interesting than Anakin had?
The thought was arousing. Just what he needed. What, hadn’t he had enough already? Probably not. He’d surprised himself sometimes with his un-Jedi-like devotion to sexual stamina, as his brief visits to Coruscant, to Padme, had proved.
That thought was exciting as well. Anakin squirmed in the bed, which only made it worse. Exasperated, he lay still, listening to the other servants in the room, making sure they really were asleep. Then he slipped a cautious hand beneath the covers, a brief touch to his already-pulsing erection, the familiar all-over shiver. He could take his time with it. Apparently he had all night.
He was just becoming very happy with himself when the sound of a door opening and closing stilled his fingers. Then came the sound of feet brushing across the stone floor. He knew the walk. It was Obi-Wan.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered. His voice was weary.
"I’m here," he whispered back, trying to shift his body, to hide anything embarrassing from Obi-Wan’s keen eyes. To distract him, he said, "You sound tired."
Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the bed but didn’t lay back. "What I would really like is a bath. I think I could find the bathing room again, where we left our clothing, our gear. But who knows if we’re allowed?"
"We could always try," Anakin replied. "The worst they could do is stop us. Bring us back here."
Obi-Wan’s eyes focused on him in the scant light. "You want to come as well?"
"I can’t sleep. I’ve got nothing better to do."
Obi-Wan stood, looked at him consideringly for a moment. "Very well. But I very much want a bath. If anyone sees us, it will be your job to distract them."
"Fine. I can be the bait. Just this once." Anakin sat up, movements silent, and followed Obi-Wan from the room.
***
"Pfft!" Obi-Wan’s head broke the surface and he spit out hot water. His hair dripped and he slicked it back, then leaned back against the stone rim of the deep, circular tub and watched as Anakin, naked, mechanical arm and all, joined him in the water. The tub was more than big enough for two. Obi-Wan suspected it was sometimes used to serve many at once. But they were alone now, and the hot water had a flowery, disinfectant smell about it. Obi-Wan was pleased.
Anakin slipped under the surface of the water as well, but stayed there. A long time.
Obi-Wan shrugged and grabbed a bar of soap, washing the two days’ worth of sweat, grime and who knew what else from his hair and skin. When Anakin finally came up for air, sputtering, Obi-Wan offered him the soap but Anakin only shook his head.
"From the taste of the water, there’s probably not much point," he said, pulling his own hair out of his eyes with metal fingers and resting his back against the tub, directly across from Obi-Wan.
"Feels good to be clean," Obi-Wan said, and closed his eyes. The steam was refreshing, the water, soothing to his tired muscles after sitting for hours and his exertions with the Queen. Phebe really was limber for her age, thought Obi-Wan. And also very limber for someone who sat around all day. Of course, she probably had plenty of male servants to keep her young at night.
Pleasant as it had been he didn’t really want to think any more about it, or about anything else. They were halfway finished on this planet. He knew he should consider their time here restful; they’d been forced to do more horrible things to acquire a treaty than sit around playing servant, or having sexual relations with beautiful women, or one’s friends. But Obi-Wan was too used to war and to being active. He thought that probably was a bad thing.
But for now, all was silent. It was a companionable silence. At least, Obi-Wan had thought it so. Ripples in the surface of the water kept splashing against his chin, filling his ears. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Anakin watching him. Caught, Anakin’s gaze slid off to the side. And he was fidgeting.
Anakin was often reticent about his problems, his emotions. But Obi-Wan had a feeling that tonight it wouldn’t take much to draw out the truth. He only wondered what he would do with it once it was out in the open. Look at it? Examine it? Last night their conversation and his accusations had barely scratched the surface of the whole situation. Lust was a difficult thing. It was too basic. Too distracting. He sighed. "What’s wrong with you?"
"I don’t know." Anakin’s brows were lowered, his eyes still sliding to the periphery, a familiar expression.
"Didn’t you wear yourself out last night?"
"Snippy," Anakin replied.
"True." Obi-Wan wondered why he’d said it. He supposed he was still clinging to a little bit of resentment at Anakin’s show-offiness.
"I wish I had," Anakin continued. "I feel… I don’t know. Itchy. Unfinished."
"Why?"
"I don’t know," Anakin said, then turned to look at Obi-Wan fully. "Actually, I do. It’s because of you."
"Because of me?" So this is what Obi-Wan did with the truth. Pretended he didn’t know what Anakin was talking about.
Anakin didn’t answer but sank beneath the water, slipping out of sight, reappearing above the surface only inches from Obi-Wan. He watched Obi-Wan intently, laying his hands on his shoulders, then was still, biting his lip.
"What you need is a cold bath, I think," Obi-Wan joked, trying not to notice the way Anakin’s long fingers squeezed at his shoulders.
Anakin snorted. "If I thought that would work, I would try it," he said, then floated forward the last few inches between them, and kissed Obi-Wan on the mouth, his lips wet. Nothing demanding, just a question.
But for whom? Obi-Wan pulled back, just a little, and looked at his friend. All around them was shadow, scant light creeping in from the high windows making their conversation a watery, moonlit little oasis. "So tell me. Is this what will work?"
Anakin didn’t answer with words but only swallowed again and tilted his head to kiss Obi-Wan’s bearded chin, then his neck, his shoulder, all slow, all gentle. It tingled where his lips touched. Odd, as before, but oddly pleasant nonetheless.
Obi-Wan brought a hand from under the water and lay it on Anakin’s cheek, then after a moment raised the other one to hold Anakin’s face still, to hold it away. "You also need a shave," he said, a distraction while he gathered his thoughts. Along with it came a hope that his voice didn’t sound as wavery as it felt.
Anakin laughed, softly. "It’s this place. We’re out of place, here. Things aren’t normal."
"And that’s why you need a shave? Unless you’re trying to grow a beard like your old Master." Now Obi-Wan was chattering. He never chattered.
Anakin just shook his head, squeezing Obi-Wan’s shoulders again for emphasis. "No. And stop circumventing the issue."
Certainly Anakin could be astute when he wished. The exact issue was, should they continue what had been started the evening before? Play the game Obi-Wan had refused to finish? He gave himself another moment to consider it, wondering if this was the only way, if this would give Anakin what he thought he needed. Obi-Wan rarely knew what Anakin wanted or needed. It was one of his failings as a master, as a friend. And they were out of place here, and he was curious as well; why else would he have wondered what Anakin was doing while he himself was in bed with a beautiful woman, and Obi-Wan realized that he was taking a damned long time to justify something that he already knew was going to happen. There would be no peace until it did. "Will this be the end of it?"
"Yes."
Strangely, Obi-Wan believed him, so he nodded. And Anakin smiled, that heart-stopping half-grin of his, and moved closer until closer was no longer an issue, and wasted no time doing what he wanted.
Apparently what he wanted was to lick every drop of water from Obi-Wan’s face. He kissed his mouth, his nose, his eyelashes.. Again, it was odd, surreal, to intimate for words, to be sharing this sort of experience when not forced to.
Anakin wrapped his metal fingers in Obi-Wan’s wet hair and kissed his mouth, deep, and Obi-Wan just let it happen, let himself feel it. And it felt very nice indeed to halt the unfair dissemination, and to just give himself over to the physical sensation of expressing affection by shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. They stayed like that for Obi-Wan knew not how long. A minute, ten?
His arms had worked their way around Anakin’s water-slicked back, and Anakin was pressed up against him so tightly that in that moment it was hard to see him as anything other than a sexual being. The muscles in his belly contracted with every deep breath he took, felt rather than heard. And he felt something else—Anakin’s penis, hard already, pressing against his stomach.
He wasn’t the only one. Really, Obi-Wan hadn’t expected that. He’d thought himself worn out, old and tired, but that was not the case here.
Either Anakin noticed or was reading his mind or both, because he slid his mouth to speak panting breaths in Obi-Wan’s ear. "What happened with you and the Queen?" he exhaled.
Obi-Wan shivered in the hot water, not from the words but from the soft insistent lips caressing his earlobe. "Is that what this is about?"
"No. Maybe," Anakin admitted, running his smooth, metal-tipped fingers underwater along Obi-Wan’s ribs, his hips. "I just wondered."
"Hmmm." Skirting yet another issue, but past the point where it mattered.
Anakin wasn’t to be satisfied with that reply. "Did you enjoy it?" he whispered, long wet fingers doing insane things to Obi-Wan’s armpits.
"Yes."
Anakin grunted, a small angry sound, and kneeled on either side of Obi-Wan’s hips on the stone bath seat, the hard hinge of his palm in the small of Obi-Wan’s back shoving him forward, hard. More whispers below his ear, muffled vibrations at the sensitive bend of his jaw.
"More than once?"
"What do you want, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, sliding a hand along the ridge of Anakin’s spine, up to grab his hair, pulling him away a bit. Anakin’s eyes held that dark look again. Obi-Wan needed to finish this.
Anakin seemed to know he’d crossed a line. "Sorry," he said, and eased his grip, caressing where he’d pushed, insistent, a moment before. His limbs relaxed and he closed his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered again, against Obi-Wan’s half-open lips.
Obi-Wan remembered the erotic frustration which had haunted Anakin’s eyes the night before, the disappointed hurt at Obi-Wan’s anger, and he thought he might know what Anakin needed. Reciprocation.
"Here," he said, pushing them off from the side of the tub to half-float in the deep middle. Here they were unequal in size. Obi-Wan had to stretch a bit to kiss Anakin’s wet cheek, next to his ear. He tasted of sweat and flowery disinfectant. His two days’ growth of beard was slightly scratchy against Obi-Wan’s lips, but not unpleasantly so.
It seemed Anakin was unused to not being in control in this particular type of situation. He tried to turn his head to meet Obi-Wan’s lips, but was stopped by Obi-Wan’s gentle grip on his chin. "Obi-Wan, what--"
"Hold still," Obi-Wan interrupted him. After all, Obi-Wan had been the Master for longer than Anakin. He swam his other hand underwater, searching for the erect length of Anakin’s penis. He found it, hard beneath his fingers, jumping slightly as he held it fast.
"Ah!" Apparently Anakin was surprised. But he didn’t pull away. He leaned forward and held onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, a standing reenactment of the night before, the actors switched.
"Just be still," Obi-Wan whispered again, sliding his palm along the hardened flesh, trying to decide where to start, how to do this to someone else. It wasn’t difficult, he just crooked his elbow so, and tugged against the wet, soft skin. Anakin shuddered. His forehead fell against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and he tried to comply with the order but his hips gave a little jerk forward.
Obi-Wan didn’t answer or offer a correction, just moved his hand along the length of the penis, its head, trying to find a pleasing cadence. They were still pressed close; now and then the back of his hand brushed against his own erection, giving him a jolt, but he tried to avoid it, tried not to stop.
It seemed to work. Anakin huffed against his shoulder, trying to match the rhythm with his hips. There followed a few silent minutes, punctuated only by Anakin’s short breaths and the lap of the water against their shoulders. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s movements slow, become heavy, and so he kissed Anakin’s cheek again, trying to be soothing. Anakin shook and tipped forward. There was no ejaculation that Obi-Wan could feel under the water, only the strain of climax against his fingers.
What he could feel, however, was Anakin’s teeth scraping against his collarbone. "Ouch," he said, low.
But Anakin heard and looked at him, laughing between breaths. "Sorry, Master," he said, with a sheepish half-grin, eyes shining through the embarrassment.
Obi-Wan smiled in return. "Oh, so it’s ‘Master’ again, is it?" he said, trying to ease the awkward moment, to be kinder than he had the previous evening. Hoping that he’d helped Anakin somewhat, and wishing that he wasn’t so aware of his own aching arousal.
"I know," Anakin said, agreeing with the unspoken statement about superiority and his lack of recognizing it. Then hie wrapped his arms tightly around Obi-Wan, and kissed him again, trapping him.
It seems we’re not done yet, thought Obi-Wan.
***
If Obi-Wan believed they were finished, then he was wrong, thought Anakin. He supposed there was a thing or two he could do to dispel that notion.
Not that having had Obi-Wan touch him in that way had been a bad thing. An ecstatic thing would be a more appropriate description, and surprise at Obi-Wan’s actually having done it certainly had only made it more arousing.
A state of high excitement beyond belief had followed him around all day, notwithstanding his lack of interest in Mazhi. One orgasm wasn’t going to clear it out, and this was his only chance to do something about it. He was driven by a need to possess, and the need to be the best, but that didn’t make the doing any less wonderful. And it was time to start.
With his body he shoved Obi-Wan back against the edge of the tub, back to where they’d started. Obi-Wan made a muffled sound into Anakin’s mouth as he hit and Anakin thought perhaps he’d pushed too hard. But he didn’t really care.
Maneuvering himself into a comfortable position, he licked his way down to Obi-Wan’s jaw, already knowing after so short a time what it would do to him. It worked. Obi-Wan gulped and shuddered. His beard was soft, fuzzy beneath Anakin’s lips. The only problem with torturing Obi-Wan this way was that moving his mouth had given Obi-Wan room to start speaking again.
"Anakin, we’re done here. We need to return," he said, voice wobbly.
"Not yet," Anakin replied. "You agreed. And I want to try… something…oof!" he exhaled, grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulders and hauling him out of the water, onto the wide stone lip of the tub. Quick as lightning he half-climbed out as well and sprawled atop him, straddling him, one leg still in the tub.
Obi-Wan shivered and Anakin did the same, only half in sympathy. The cool night air was a slight shock after the steamy bath. To stave off the chill he set about exploring. Here, where all was his and there was no one else to watch.
They’d moved into shadow but still Anakin could touch, see the skin he rubbed warm with the sensors on his mechanical fingers. Obi-Wan had lost weight in the last few years. His compact frame had dropped inches in places, still muscled but wiry. In the murk Anakin’s eyes could make out a few scars here and there, some whose injuries he remembered or had inflicted (in practice of course), yet discovering others he’d not known about. He kissed them all. At each, Obi-Wan shuddered, trying to breathe deep, calming breaths, but past speaking, Anakin hoped. Down the breastbone, he slid his lips along Obi-Wan’s belly, still soft despite his slimness, tasting that water on his skin, letting the small line of hairs at Obi-Wan’s navel tickle his nose, his forehead. Hard, warm flesh brushed against his chin, and Anakin remembered what he’d set out to do.
This was something he’d always wanted to try. Immodest, audacious, but then Anakin had never held much with modesty in anything, let alone anything sexual. He’d had it done to him, even seen it done, but until now had not found opportunity to try it. Who better to torture than Obi-Wan?
Suddenly he realized that he was in an awkward position, about to fall off the edge of the tub. That would be much too undignified. With a small splash he slid into the water, standing on the stone seat between Obi-Wan’s legs. He admired the view for a moment, the tufts of hair, Obi-Wan’s cock rising from it, all Anakin’s doing.
But he’d waited too long. Obi-Wan seemed to have his suspicious about what Anakin was planning—he started shifting his legs and trying to rise, making noises about the cold, mumbling that he either needed to get dressed or get back into the tub.
"Fine," Anakin said, and grabbed Obi-Wan’s hips, pretending that he was pulling him back into the water, yet instead he just held him still, and slid his lips around the end of Obi-Wan’s penis. Obi-Wan gasped and jumped, but Anakin had him held still. Obi-Wan’s position had no leverage, not with Anakin holding his hips, and they both knew it.
He took a moment to savor the clean taste of it. It tasted like skin, like the perfume of the water, like the rest of Obi-Wan. A little more he allowed himself, sucking on it a bit, then pulling away to lick down its side, to the wiry hairs at its base.
"Anakin—you can’t." Somehow Obi-Wan had caught breath to speak, but his voice was shaky, a breathless tone that warmed Anakin’s veins, resonated deep in his belly.
But Anakin couldn’t answer because his mouth was full. He pressed his lips hard, knowing what it would do to Obi-Wan, and hoping for it.
Right he was. Obi-Wan wheezed again, waving his hands for a moment as if to grab Anakin’s away, then retreating to gain purchase on the wet stone, trying to keep himself from falling backwards off the tub onto the tiled floor.
After a few more sucks that only made Obi-Wan more helpless, Anakin risked pulling away for a moment. "I can," he said, kissing the soft skin on the inside of Obi-Wan’s thigh. "And I want to. So shut up."
"Yes," Obi-Wan managed. And Anakin thrilled to hear it, because such a capitulation only made Anakin’s victory that much more complete. Now Obi-Wan would just have to enjoy it.
So he moved back, re-warming with his mouth the hard flesh cooled by the air in the room, re-wetting it with his tongue. Obi-Wan groaned, and Anakin grinned inwardly, feeling evil, toying with the idea of drawing this out like he’d wanted to for himself. Not touching with his hands, because that would be too easy. And he had all night.
Well, not really. And while pleasurable enough, what he was doing to his friend was so intimate, so erotic, that he could only imagine it being done to himself. Images flickered in his mind, of Padme doing it to him, or even Obi-Wan. Would his beard scratch, and how astonishing might that feel?
And he was hard and aching horribly again, and the hot water felt great but was no substitute for touch. So he pulled his left hand, his real hand, away from Obi-Wan’s hip to wrap his fingers around his own erection, more urgent than before, when he’d been lying alone in bed, imagining having Obi-Wan do such a thing. His own palm was ruthless, the culmination of an erotic fantasy he didn’t realize he’d had until now.
But the excitement began to require a divided attention. And the torture was not really fair. An opportunity had been given him to do something unique in his life, and he’d been given a friend to do it with, and he was wasting the opportunity on himself. He really was a selfish being.
Finally, though, affection won out and he pulled his hand away from himself, valiantly, he thought, ignoring the throbbing pain he’d created and exacerbated, and slid it under Obi-Wan’s testicles, supple and pliable in his palm, and infinitely interesting.
Feeling a bit guilty he whispered a few nonsense words, soothing and fond, and went back to work. With his mechanical thumb he rubbed the small indent, the concave juncture between Obi-Wan’s hip and thigh, touch pads describing it to him as impossibly soft.
With his mouth he swallowed Obi-Wan’s cock, slick with his own spit, as far as he could, while his fingers squeezed, and he inhaled deeply. Dimly he heard Obi-Wan’s breath speed and catch, speed and catch, felt his own ear brushed by a shaking palm. He could taste a small sweet saltiness, viscous on the back of his tongue. Obi-Wan uttered what sounded like a cross between a cough and a whine, and Anakin’s mouth was filled, sticky. Obi-Wan gasped, pulling Anakin’s hair. An unmitigated success, despite his own pain.
"Tremendous," Anakin said as he backed away. Then he grabbed Obi-Wan’s hands from their various locations and pulled, jerking him off the edge of the tub and into it, then sinking with him into the deep, keeping his mouth open. After a bit he came back up for air and for a warm, shaking body to press against.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, then was silent.
"Eh," Anakin said, dribbling water from his mouth. Then he was free to touch himself again, grasping fingers as harsh as they could be in the silky water, and it was going to take almost nothing to finish this for himself, he was so aroused. But then, Obi-Wan was sinking again, getting his revenge it seemed, for his beard really was rough and wonderful, and the sexual agony at the unbelieveability of it all was unbearable. His second orgasm was almost violent, ripping in its intensity, and he yelled, echoing about the room for a moment, and he clapped his hand over his mouth in shock at his own noise.
"Pfft," Obi-Wan broke the surface in his usual manner, spitting. He wiped his face, and then sent his usual glare in Anakin’s direction. "I think I have water up my nose," he said.
Anakin laughed into his hand, trying to cover his amusement, but was so relaxed and ecstatic that he couldn’t stop. Obi-Wan glared all the more. Anakin’s eyes began to ache from strain.
"And my back hurts," Obi-Wan continued, stretching. "Aren’t you going to say anything?"
Anakin snorted. He wanted to talk. He wanted to do it all again. But he was paralyzed by a sense of the ridiculous.
Obi-Wan stared a few moments longer, then blew out a sigh and let a reluctant grin creep onto his lips. "It’s time we were out of here."
Anakin took a deep, shaky breath and looked around. Already pre-dawn was creeping into the room, lighting areas which had been hidden earlier in shadow. Soon the other servants would rise, ready for work. He nodded back at Obi-Wan, dumbly, grinning.
Obi-Wan just shook his head and hit the drain release, then they both climbed out to find their clothes.
***
Obi-Wan was having an amazingly licentious dream involving himself, Anakin, Mon Mothma of the Senate and an ysalamir, when he was awoken by Anakin’s snores. Right in his ear. Along with Anakin’s drool. At some point near dawn, Anakin must have curled around him and fallen asleep.
He gazed with bleary eyes around the room. There seemed to be some excitement going on. Other servants were running about, chattering, with agitated, frightened looks on their faces. He was just jostling Anakin awake when Phomn came over to them.
"Jedi, you must rise immediately," he said, not bothering to tell them that they weren’t his to command. And he’d called them Jedi. "There is an attack. Here on Kyneishe, where we have never been attacked!"
"An attack?" Alarmed, Obi-Wan jumped from the bed. Anakin followed almost as quickly.
"Yes. I must take you to my Queen," Phomn said, and they ran from the room.
In the reception room all was chaos—guards and messengers running to and fro, Mazhi and the Queen making attempts to sort them out in a calm manner. A viewscreen had been uncovered along one wall, and some enterprising camerapeople somewhere were recording a Separatist landing force. Obi-Wan didn’t recognize the location of the attack, and wondered where the droid armies were, and how close to their own location.
"They have landed near the coast, to avoid our city’s shield," the Queen told Obi-Wan as they arrived, perhaps knowing the question he was going to ask. She gave him a significant look. "It seems to be a small force. But of course, you know these enemies better than we. I wonder if, as Allies, your Republic will send aid."
"Are we allies?" Obi-Wan asked and crossed his arms. After all, the treaty would not take full effect for at least another day. According to the terms of the contract, he and Anakin were still servants.
The Queen looked at Mazhi, who was following their conversation. Mazhi appeared to think for a moment, then nodded. The Queen returned her gaze to the Jedi. "We are. Guards! Servants! Someone find our guests’ clothing and weapons and bring them here immediately."
Obi-Wan still had his arms crossed. When Phebe raised an eyebrow at him in question, he glanced around the room, focusing on the ysalamir tucked away on frames in their cornices.
The Queen smiled, catching the drift of his thoughts. "And someone kill those creatures," she said.
"No!" one of the guards near the door screamed, and began to run towards the throne. She caught herself up short as if just realizing at whom she’d screamed, then swallowed and sketched a hasty bow. "My Queen! They are harmless. We promise to take them to a location away from the castle, if you will leave them to us."
A few of the other guards had sent servants for ladders to reach the cornices, but Obi-Wan could see that they all were waiting to hear what the Queen would decree. The guard who’d run up to them was now kneeling, wide blue eyes teary and beseeching.
"Very well, but do it quickly," Phebe said and waved a disgusted hand at the kneeling woman. She turned to Obi-Wan. "Silly females. Becoming attached to the wretched things. Bah. So what should we do first, Master Jedi?"
Obi-Wan had already switched his brain to battle mode, and was ready with his answer. "Anakin must be taken to our ship to make all necessary preparations. You know what to do," he said to Anakin, who nodded and ran off, after grabbing his clothes and lightsaber from a returning servant. "Next, I will need to contact the Jedi Council on Coruscant."
"Our communications array is yours for whatever you need. Mazhi!" The Queen turned to her advisor. But Mazhi was gone. Phebe called her name again, then shook her head and motioned for another servant. The servant ran to her side, listened for a moment, and nodded. Phebe spoke again to Obi-Wan. "Fraod is familiar with the system. He will take you there."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, and followed Fraod from the room.
***
Anakin jogged ahead of the servant who was supposed to lead him to their ship, because he already knew the way. Soon he lost the nameless fellow.
Their ship looked intact in its little stone alcove. Anakin stuffed his clothing and lightsaber under one arm and used his free hand to key in the access code, then ran inside before the landing ramp had even fully descended. He truly was ready to leave this planet, ready for Obi-Wan to call in clone reinforcements, ready for other Jedi to come take their place. And they would, because Anakin and Obi-Wan had only been pulled off a major battle site to come here because of Obi-Wan’s skills at negotiation. The small Separatist landing force they’d seen would not be enough to keep Kenobi and Skywalker here for longer than the beginning of the battle.
Not all that had happened here was bad. Some of it had been quite interesting. But he hadn’t the least reservation about departing, and there was nobody he would miss. He felt powerful again; his true abilities were needed.
He bent over and dashed as fast as he could into the ship’s small two-man cockpit, flipped a few startup switches, then sat on the floor and tried to change his clothing in a scrunched-up position. He was grunting and bruising himself when it felt as if another switch had been hit; the Force filled him again, energized his limbs, directed his movements so that there was all the room in the world. True power. It was like rediscovering daylight after a long darkness.
It was also like rediscovering his other senses, and one told him that someone was coming. It wasn’t Obi-Wan; Anakin could sense Obi-Wan in the Force from a mile away. This being was nervous. Female.
He turned his head, Jedi trousers still at his knees, to see Mazhi walking down the corridor of the ship.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, sharp.
She was hesitant. "I-- I came to see if you needed information, needed help--"
"I don’t need your help. And Obi-Wan will send me all the data I need." It was true. Already Anakin was keyed in onto a listening channel for the call to Coruscant and to the Jedi Council. "So you can get off my ship."
Her dark eyes flashed for a moment with anger at being ordered around, and then she seemed to remember that she was no longer in charge. Her manner became nervous again, hands waving as if useless to her. "I wasn’t. I--"
"Wasn’t what?" Anakin asked, a mocking tone, as he tried to stand and pull on his pants. But he couldn’t rise. She was in the way. "Will you move?"
"Wasn’t ready for youtoleave!" she wailed, and threw her arms around his shoulders, further hampering his efforts to dress. "Please!"
He could use the Force to make her move her arms, to make her get out of his way. Yet he found that in the midst of all else, he sort of liked having her begging him, for whatever she wanted. But he couldn’t resist a small comment on the situation. "You’re pathetic."
"I know and I don’t care," she said, sounding as though she were weeping. "I just needed to be with you one last time."
"I need to leave." It was true. Even the novelty of the situation wasn’t enough to make him interested.
"Just one last time," she whispered.
One last time for what? Anakin wondered. But he didn’t have time to ponder it. Obi-Wan’s voice was emanating from the speaker. "Anakin. It will be a few minutes before we are connected. I don’t need you to be present, just to listen in."
Anakin used the Force to depress a button long enough to answer. "Affirmative."
Mazhi was still hugging him, and had started kissing his hair, his neck. And he still wasn’t dressed. "Please," she said again. "I just want to be with you."
"You don’t even know me," he said, exasperated. Then he looked at her, at her anxious gaze, and relented somewhat. "Fine! Just stay out of my way. Your planet is under attack, in case you haven’t noticed."
"I know. I am sure I will be the first to die. That’s why I must--" she crawled over him, sitting on him on the floor. "Do this," she continued, and started kissing his face, wriggling on him, trying in the small space to pull his pants down further.
"You’re crazy," he said when she wasn’t smothering him. She was like Padme, the last time he’d seen her, the last time they’d left Coruscant.
Padme! Perhaps they’d be called home. It was that thought more than her clumsy caresses that finally caught his interest. All of it. Her little hand was fumbling at his crotch, grabbing at flesh still sensitive from last night—last night. Now that was an exciting thought.
Not appropriate in this situation. Not with a battle on their hands. But Obi-Wan had said a few minutes…
He finally used the Force to lift her off him, floating her back to the corridor. She yelped as her back hit the wall and she hung there in midair. Jumping up, he stood before her.
"Good thing you had those ysalamir, wasn’t it?" he asked, evil grin plastered on.
"Yes," she whispered, clearly riveted by him, by his power. It only spurred him on.
With his hands he grabbed her thigh, her dress, lifted it, pushed himself against her. "Will you leave after this, then?"
"Yes," she whispered again. Still as original as ever.
"Fine," he grated, then propelled his burgeoning erection inside her, hard, and she yelped again. But her arms and legs clasped about him, holding him close.
Anakin shoved his face somewhere into the wall next to her disheveled black hair, and drove into her, feeling quite pleased with himself despite the fact that she wasn’t Padme, or even Obi-Wan, yet somehow because she wanted him so badly in that moment. He could feel it, indistinct, in her manner, her emotions.
"I will never come back here, you know," he grunted between shoves, grinding her into the wall.
"I know."
A few more thrusts and warmth curled into his knees and stomach, and he closed his eyes and pretended she was someone else, that the hips beneath his hands were not hers. Still, when the climax came, he barely gasped, and it was vaguely unsatisfying.
Hers was better, if her shaking and the noises she made were any indication. He pulled out of her, sticky, and let her drop to the floor. There wasn’t even time to clean up, because the conference was beginning. He pulled up his pants and stepped back into the cockpit, plopped into a chair, and grabbed his boots. He didn’t even feel like being unkind; he looked a question at her.
Straightening her dress, she looked back at him, features a little more composed than earlier, when she’d come running into the ship.
"Well, better than last night,’ she said, low, and smiled at him, a sad smile. "Goodbye."
He flicked a jaunty salute at her in reply, and she was gone.
The conversation with the Council was short. They were sending a clone force; Obi-Wan and Anakin were to return to Coruscant as soon as the force arrived. Padme!
"Anakin! Anakin, did you copy that?" Obi-Wan’s tinny voice asked.
"Yes. The ship will be ready to leave when they arrive, and when you finally get here," Anakin said. "In the meantime I’ll look around and see what these people have to defend themselves."
"Good, good. I’ll see you later."
"Out," Anakin said, and prepared for battle. Droids. Fighting. Things he understood.
The End.