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Riding out Negotiations

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It was hot. 

It was so kriffing hot all the time. It was almost like being on Tatooine again, but worse because here it was humid- and Anakin never realized just how much worse the humidity was than the sand. Yeah he’d almost, almost , prefer being covered in sand to this. Because instead he was covered in sweat. Since the first moment they set foot on the planet he’d just felt gross- and it was a stupid diplomatic mission anyway. What was the point in training to be a Jedi Knight, a peacekeeper, if all they spent their time doing was travelling the galaxy to appease local rulers about trade agreements? It was so kriffing stupid. 

So of course Obi-Wan was having a grand time. He looked completely unbothered at all times, and if it weren’t for the barest sheen of sweat on his brow and the back of his neck, Anakin would assume he was just immune to the heat altogether. But that was even worse because everyday they came and sat in on these meetings and Anakin roiled in his rage and discomfort— and Obi-Wan looked so composed but Anakin couldn’t stop staring at him. The meetings- well he didn’t care much for diplomacy in the first place. Nothing, literally nothing in the whole galaxy could have made him care. He would much rather sit, stew in discomfort, and watch small beads of sweat trail down Obi-Wan’s skin. 

He would much rather listen to the cadence of Obi-Wan’s voice, the smooth tone as addicting as spice and every amused or sardonic lilt and roll of his tongue made Anakin all too aware of the heat on his skin. 

It wasn’t like this was a new feeling. No, he’d been aware of the way Obi-Wan affected him for a few years now. It had kind of just hit him suddenly, some day in his late teens. He felt like he knew everything about his Master, knew him like some extension of himself. They were a team after all, Master and Padawan, Obi-Wan and Anakin. Those were things he knew, things that made sense. He knew his Master’s voice and could hear it, with praise or reprimand ready, even when they were apart. He could predict what Obi-Wan would say and do with scary accuracy. So there wasn’t a surprise, nothing had happened and nothing had changed- just one day when he woke up and was making a cup of caf, and heard Obi-Wan’s sleep-thick “Good morning,” it went straight to his cock and there was no going back. 

He didn’t even need to listen to his words, just hearing him, knowing it was him, that was enough to get Anakin hard any day. After years of being tormented by this - casting his constant arousal into the Force and building his shields up as high and unbreachable as possible - it was almost pathetic. For Force sake he wasn’t some kid, with his first rush of hormones and arousal, he wasn’t even a teenager anymore! He was on his way to being a Jedi Knight (Obi-Wan said his trials could be any day now) but he had a million or more fantasies of his kriffing Master and his voice and hands and everything about him. 

Those thoughts would have been enough to make this mission bearable. Anakin sat, arms crossed and practically glowering, but not even listening to a word just thinking how would Obi-Wan sound if he was breathing all those words against his skin, what would he say when he saw Anakin keen, desperate for him before even being touched—

“Anakin-“

Oh thank the kriffing Force for the layers of Jedi robes. They didn’t help the heat at all but there was no threat Obi-Wan would catch that just saying his name had his blood rushing south. 

Anakin cleared his throat and had to hope his pupils weren’t just blown when he turned his head to look at Obi-Wan— Force they were sitting close. And his Master was leaning towards him with such a casual grace, but Anakin knew his attention was just on him, and not the meeting. “Yes, Master?”

Obi-Wan wasn’t fooled by the feigned politeness (he never was) and Anakin could practically taste his fond exasperation. “ Anakin, if you are too distracted to pay attention, I am sure the delegation would not mind at all if you just returned to our rooms.”

It was a perfect solution, exactly what he wanted. He wanted to leave, go take care of this little situation in private so he could go back to pretending he wasn’t besotted with his Master. But now that the escape was presented to him— No he didn’t want to sit in this kriffing meeting, sweating buckets and hating everything. But if he left then he’d also be leaving Obi-Wan, and there was no telling when he’d see him again. Maybe not for hours, until today’s meetings concluded and they’d have a feast and Obi-Wan, mentally exhausted, would retire to sleep. The idea of all of that was so much worse. 

“No Master, I’m alright. It’s just hot- I’m paying attention.” Anakin was shifting under that pointed look. He thought if he leaned just a little bit towards Obi-Wan, they’d be nose to nose. It was too close- he looked back at the meeting, feigned interest. He’d play the perfect Padawan, just so he didn’t have to leave his side. 

He was trying so diligently to stay focused that he missed seeing Obi-Wan lean in, only registering it when the next words were a breath against his ear. “Your thoughts are incredibly loud, dear one.” Anakin sucked in sharply, the air felt thick with his own sweat, Obi-Wan’s too, and the distinct warm spice smell inherent to his Master. A quick glance, keeping his head still and just darting his eyes, he could only see the lazy grace of Obi-Wan’s body— from the grounded stance of his boots on the floor to the splay of his thighs; the natural, almost regal way he sat back in his chair, leaning so heavily to one side. Obi-Wan always exuded a peaceful authority, a comforting presence, but there was something about the way he sat that was so open- this was a man brimming with power and control; that aloof gaze made Anakin itch with the heat under his collar. And that didn’t even cover the way that little endearment made his stomach lurch, the way it just rolled off Obi-Wan's tongue. Oh he was so kriffed. 

“Not that I can discern a thing through your shields,” Obi-Wan kept going, like Anakin wasn’t already hard enough- “I just know you’re thinking very hard about something .”

His own voice came out so weak and unconvincing in comparison, “How do you know I’m not thinking about the mission then?”

He couldn’t have looked at Obi-Wan’s face, he just couldn’t have. If he had, he would just start begging and forget the meeting. It wouldn’t even matter that the Council report would be “and then Padawan Skywalker got on his knees and begged his Master to fuck him” because that mortification would be worth it. So thank the Force that he did not look and he did not see the dark glint to Obi-Wan’s eyes as that gaze raked his body. But Anakin knew Obi-Wan didn’t answer, he just pulled away and sat back in his chair again. 

Level breathing, casting things into the Force, ignoring that he could feel a layer of sweat across every inch of his skin and that he was inappropriately hard during a diplomatic session. Everything went back to being white noise for a little bit and he couldn’t even think about his Master at his side. He had to think about nothing— he wondered if Master Windu would ever train him in Vaapad, and if the holonets would keep up with Outer Rim podracing, and if they could go to Dex’s when they were back on Coruscant. Mindless things. And going mindless actually helped and he maybe even listened a little bit to what one of the ambassadors was saying- something about the Republic having little interest in anyone outside of the Core. He still hated the mission but maybe these people had a point- if some Senators of Outer Rim planets could talk to them, instead of the Jedi, then maybe they’d feel heard. 

Master Yoda was always telling him in so many stupid and cryptic ways that “Learn from your Master, you must. Great skill in negotiation, he has” and Anakin never really cared but now he felt like he got it! He knew what they felt, growing up on Tatooine he knew that the Republic didn’t notice them, and that’s how these people felt. A horrible thought: he was almost excited about diplomacy. So he wouldn’t say anything yet- besides he hadn’t listened to most of the discussion and didn’t want to sound like an idiot.

The second their host nodded his head, concluding things for the day, Anakin was leaping up. All those earlier thoughts were basically forgotten as he bounded after Obi-Wan. 

“Were you actually paying attention?” His Master asked, incredulous but maybe there was pride in his voice too. They’d stepped into their guest rooms- a suite far more lavish than two Jedi needed but not like Anakin would complain. It was all space and light and a dazzling view of the city- a lush urban scape that curved and hid in the planet’s massive trees. It was like the clearly synthetic structures had always been there and there was a beauty to it Anakin only now noticed.

He was pulling off the heavy outer robe the second they were inside, “Yeah, of course I was paying attention.” Anakin had to remind himself of the thoughts he’d had, of their mission , because the way Obi-Wan watched him as he slipped out of the too-many-layers was just making him flush again. But no! He’d really paid attention and cared and had thoughts about their mission and he didn’t want his stupid massive infatuation with his Master to screw that up!

“When I listened to them, you know it just makes sense. Of course they don’t feel understood-“ Anakin was finally down to just his tunic and that was so much better. It was like he could breathe again. Obi-Wan looked amused by the pile of discarded robes and- had they been standing this close? For once he’d been focused on reasonable things: the mission, diplomacy, not sweating and melting into a pile of goop. Had Obi-Wan been right by him that whole time? Obi-Wan had that habit anyway, of standing very close and just sort of watching him as they talked, not even touching but a very specific look and if he took even a step closer they’d be kissing. That was how his Master stood, as Anakin tried to remember all the thoughts he’d had in the meeting. 

“So I thought, if they were able to talk to some of the Senators or other representatives from here in the Outer Rim- they could even form a committee in the Senate, to make sure their problems were heard.” Obi-Wan nodded like he was listening, and Anakin supposed he was but it didn’t seem to be his real focus. And you know what- even though he just realized maybe this planet was beautiful and the diplomacy was interesting, Anakin would take it all back. Kriff this stupid planet and the way he was already too hot in his own skin and his blood was already pumping so it had no problem rushing to his face and elsewhere just because Obi-Wan was looking at him.  

“Is that really what you were thinking about during the meeting?” Obi-Wan almost sounded bored like the answer didn’t even matter. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe he’d get what he wanted no matter what Anakin did. Oh Force that thought didn’t help-

“Well, yes, I just thought maybe the Jedi weren’t the best people to mediate in this case. If they feel like the Republic isn’t listening, then they need real political representatives, not us.”

“Our hosts would have been quite flattered by your perspective, and likely agreed. If you had actually voiced those thoughts, perhaps our mission would be over, since you’re right. We aren’t the ideal mediators here.”

It wasn’t that it was rare for Obi-Wan to say he was right, but it made Anakin grin like a little kid who’d worked especially hard to hear those words. “We can tell them tomorrow, and let Council know too-“

“If your shields hadn’t been so strong, my Padawan, we could have resolved this earlier. Why were you so determined to keep those thoughts hidden from me?”

Anakin couldn’t look at him, not when Obi-Wan’s smile was too knowing, not when one of his hands had flicked over the small distance between them to thumb the end of Anakin’s braid. 

“I didn’t want to be wrong, or distract you-“

“Anakin you’re always a distraction to me.”

“I- well I just thought it’d be better to listen to them, and my idea was just-“

“Absolutely brilliant. You’ve done a very good job.”

Those words made him flush. Anakin had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering. He very much wanted to keep all that desperation and any noises to himself. If he let even the littlest bit slip it was certain to all come tumbling out. How could he resist- not when this was Obi-Wan , who meant everything to him. 

“Now, dear one, what else were you thinking about? I must say, sharing a bond with you is like flying into a star sometimes,” Anakin’s flush deepened. Sometimes Obi-Wan talked about the bond like it was a noisy headache, but sometimes there was something so endearing and reverential when he spoke of their Force connection. It was like he thought Anakin really was the most dazzling thing in the whole galaxy, like Obi-Wan was the one who was lucky, and not the other way around. “Even when you keep the details of your thoughts from me, there’s too much to keep it all in.”

Really , I was just thinking about negotiations- ah -“

Obi-Wan tugged at his braid and Force it went right to his cock. In a second he had that dazed feeling in his eyes and he didn’t know how there was enough blood in him to keep his face as red as he knew it was and travel to make him hard in record time. “Please Anakin, don’t lie.” His voice was pitched a little lower and so smooth, it was the only thing Anakin wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

He admitted it without thinking, “ You , I was thinking about you,” words coming out all in a rush like just saying it would give him the release he wanted- needed. 

Obi-Wan hummed and Anakin swore he almost hated that self-satisfied look on his face. His fingers, which Anakin knew were calloused and tough but they were running along his Padawan braid light as a feather. “What about me?” - Like he didn’t already kriffing know

“I don’t know-“ a light, warning tug, “It was hot, I couldn’t concentrate-“

Anakin.”

“And I could just hear you talking, and sometimes your voice is just really- oh ,” That whimper he’d bit back early came through now. It slipped past his lips when Obi-Wan tilted his neck and mouthed at the soft curve of his jaw, below his ear. Oh he could just fall over and die like this, and he might have if Obi-Wan’s other arm hadn’t stabilized him. 

“What was that about my voice?”

“It’s really, really nice- “ Anakin was instantly keening and curving into the press of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Is that really what his Master wanted, him to admit how badly he wanted to feel the breath and vibrations of each word out of Obi-Wan’s lips against him? Anakin wanted to hear his own name tumble out all reverential and awed, with that lilt to it that was unique between them. He wanted words whispered into his ear, against his throat, into his chest, across hip bones and really wanted anything— it didn’t even matter what Obi-Wan said, he could recount the whole bland history of the Republic for all Anakin cared but he wanted that voice between his legs so he’d never forget the breathless hitch of his Master against his thighs. 

“You’re still not letting me in,” Obi-Wan nipped lightly just above his collarbone. Anakin’s mental shields were still keeping each thought carefully safe from mortifying judgment at how desperate he was. “If you’d like to keep your thoughts private, so be it, but then you must tell me what you want.”

Anakin but his lip, swallowing a whimper again. It was all too good and he was hoping Obi-Wan didn’t know how hard he already was. He didn’t have all his robes keeping him covered anymore- if Obi-Wan just looked at him or shifted closer there’d be no denying it. “What do you need, Anakin? You must tell me.”

It could have been a demand. It could have been bitten out along his throat with harsh, unyielding want. Maybe that’s what he’d want someday, and maybe Obi-Wan knew that sort of dominance wasn’t out of the question— but right now his voice was coaxing. It was a balm to Anakin’s embarrassment. His shields slipped. It wasn’t enough to give Obi-Wan the precise expressions and desires he wanted, but it was enough to feel the tidal waves of Anakin’s unchecked arousal. 

Obi-Wan didn’t even need the Force to sense that though. It had been obvious enough in the meeting chamber. He knew Anakin’s flushed face and hot sheen was from more than just temperature. He’d have to be missing all his senses to not notice the way Anakin hitched when Obi-Wan leaned near him and breathed his words by his ear. Covered in Jedi robes or not, he knew the effect it had. 

Please , Master!”

Oh dear Anakin, who didn’t even know the words for what he wanted. A million fantasies all failing him when finally handed his desires on a silver platter. He wanted everything- anything Obi-Wan would give him. 

“Shall I take you to bed, darling?” He pulled his head back to watch Anakin nod all too enthusiastically. 

Their rooms at the Temple were minimal, because such was the way of the Order. Anakin’s room was of course filled with droid parts and anything that ever caught his eye, but that did nothing to change that really, they were humble accommodations. Their guest quarters for the mission were the opposite. Anakin had never even known there were beds that looked like that, which Obi-Wan regarded with fond amusement when they arrived. His Padawan saw the bed that was really nothing special, but it was more than a simple cot, and that made it the grandest thing Anakin had ever seen. 

So when Obi-Wan led them back to his room, and Anakin went tumbling onto the bed, it was like falling into crashing waves. The bed and blankets were cool while his body was still so hot. It should have been unbearable- every point of contact between them should have burned like fire but Anakin still wanted more. It was like the whole heat of the planet had just set his nerves alight, and at first it made him angry but now, every touch was amplified a thousand times over. The bed was a cool, perfect luxury when Anakin knew sweat had his hair sticking up in tufts and Obi-Wan— he looked divine. No one should look that good like this. His hair, it still stayed mostly out of his face but the bits that fell forward- well he looked how he did in the middle of sparring. A beautiful mess and Anakin wanted to be made into a mess by him. An incomprehensible moaning mess, all by his Master. 

“Is this really all it takes to get you to pay attention to diplomatic negotiations?” Obi-Wan kneeled between Anakin’s spread legs, and his Padawan could only watch him. He watched the hands he knew so well undo the layers of robe and tunic that were also so familiar. It wasn’t the first time to see him in some state of undress, but this was so obviously, so clearly different that watching it happen felt brand new. When Obi-Wan pulled off his underlayer, it made the back of his hair stick out. Anakin pulled him down by his shoulders before tangling his fingers in that copper and sandy hair. Oh he could kiss him, he almost asked for permission, if it was alright to finally kiss- but something about the way Obi-Wan looked at him he knew the answer. 

Anakin moaned as soon as their lips slotted together. He moaned and Obi-Wan could feel the Force dazzling and exploding around them. 

“Master- oh , I need,” he was holding Obi-Wan’s face like this was a very serious matter, like they weren’t splayed out on the bed. Like he wasn’t hard and aching in his pants and if he shifted his hips up, he’d grind right into Obi-Wan’s thigh. So that’s what he did, and the delicious but not quite enough friction had him laughing through another moan, “ Obi-Wan , I need you to fuck me.”

His Master’s grin matched his - because when were they ever not teasing and trading barbs with the same manic glee? No, it would have been ridiculous to ask for or expect some sort of gentle lovemaking— he wanted Obi-Wan with all the fire and power and sarcasm that was truly there. 

He stayed grinning as he leaned back down, catching his lips on Anakin’s skin and sliding his hands under his tunic. Anakin shifted until he could pull the offending garment off and offer his Master unrestrained access to every inch of his neck and chest. 

“Is that what you were really thinking about, young one? Did you imagine taking my cock? Would you do as good a job with that as you apparently do with diplomatic solutions?”

“Oh Siths’ hells, Obi-Wan,” Anakin groaned. Even with the pleasure of each bite and mark going down his chest, he rolled his eyes. Obi-Wan was looking at him like he was innocent, like he wasn’t slowly unlacing and pulling off Anakin’s pants to leave him completely open and exposed under him. The air would have been a cold shock, except they were still on one of the hottest planets Anakin had ever known. “You can’t be upset about that meeting forever. And maybe you shouldn’t underestimate my political skills.”

“Oh I don’t underestimate any of your skills.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a low rumble, a caress against the bare skin of Anakin’s thigh. He was trying to stay annoyed, exasperated, but that puff of warm air made his cock visibly twitch. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Anakin hissed in a breath, knocking his head back when he felt Obi-Wan push his legs further open and lave his tongue down. He licked and sucked a stripe down sweat salty skin, carefully and cruelly avoiding any contact with Anakin’s aching cock. Oh kriff- he knew what Obi-Wan was doing but that first swipe still shocked him. His Master tonguing at his entrance, pressing in with care like it was the most precious task. The sensation knocked the thoughts right out of him- “Wait, what- ah— What did you ask?”

The vibration of Obi-Wan chuckling, into him was just as perfect- no, much more perfect, than he could have imagined. It sent ripples through every nerve ending like lightning, from his ass to his cock to his brain. “I asked-“ a thumb followed his mouth and pressed into Anakin and oh fuck did it feel good, “if you’re going to be good when you take my cock.”

Yes , oh fuckyes -“ Anakin’s lidded eyes shot open and he reached a hand out- from another part of their room a packet of bacta came flying into his hand. Obi-Wan gave him a raised eyebrow look that warned of a letter lecture on misuse of the Force, but he didn’t kriffing care. He tossed the packet at Obi-Wan’s face. “Get to it, Master.”

Obi-Wan tore it open with his teeth and Anakin hated that that sight made the first spurt of precum leak from his cock. Obi-Wan, grinning stupid idiot that he was, watched enraptured until Anakin canted his hips up to remind him of the much more pressing matter at hand. 

The first pressure of Obi-Wan’s slicked fingers was cold but so promising. Anakin let out stuttered breaths and moans as one finger slid in all the way. He felt so over sensitive, could feel the rough callous of Obi-Wan’s hand and he was so hot- but he wanted more. He didn’t even realize he was trying to rock his hips down for more until Obi-Wan’s hand stopped him. 

“Oh my, Padawan. Surely you can be patient and wait for this.”

“Need more , Master. Please-“

“You’ve never been patient,” Obi-Wan gave a long suffering sigh but slid in a second finger so gently. Anakin gripped his Master’s arm, toes curling with the whole body pleasure of Obi-Wan scissoring those two fingers into him. He had his face turned, moaning into the sheets. Two turned to three, pumping into him, but it wasn’t enough.  “Let me do this properly, Padawan mine, I’ll stretch you open so you can take me beautifully. Is that what you want?”

It robbed the words from him- fuck, fuck. He never imagined Obi-Wan would say things like that to him. He couldn’t even voice it- he’d wanted things for so long and, well if they were already in it this far.

Anakin’s shields came tumbling down and every imagining, every fantasy poured out between them. He felt like he should have been even more mortified, but he was aching for it. He didn’t care if it hurt, he wanted Obi-Wan in him. Anakin was curving back against the bed, his neck a swoop of exposed skin, the shine of sweat and red dotted marks that his Master had left. 

“Anakin, you’re not ready yet-“

“Master, fuck me .”

He could feel it, that Obi-Wan wanted to protest still- stubborn and relentless man that he was, so Anakin flipped them. Oh and what a sight that was, his Master flushed, hair is disarray, and all tilted back against the sheets having to look up at his Padawan. Yes, he liked this much more. He liked that Obi-Wan had to watch him palm the unmistakable bulge in his pants and fix him with his own wanting, ruthless gaze. “You’re insatiable,” he breathed. It only pleased Anakin more. 

His Padawan forced down his pants, eyes all reverential and so needy, but his voice still a taunting lilt “What, Master, don't you think I can take it?”

“Oh no, dear one, I know you can.” He didn’t miss the shiver down Anakin’s spine at the endearment. And he didn’t miss his grin at being spurred on. 

But even then, Obi-Wan was awestruck and speechless watching Anakin straddle his hips, take his cock in his hand and start sliding onto his length with a broken moan. Anakin knew his Master, how in only a moment he’d try to wrangle control back, but for a second Anakin had stripped him bare.

Each inch down was a stretch edging on painful- he absolutely should have let Obi-Wan prep him more but he wouldn’t admit defeat. And the burn of it, knowing it was being done by his Master, that was motivation enough. He sank down until their hips were flush and Anakin groaned at just the feeling of it, the idea of it. He was stuffed full, Obi-Wan’s cock inside him. Force it was perfect. 

The command was stuttered out, losing any power- just needy and desperate “Come o-on, Obi-Wan— fuck me- “ Hips snapped up on the last word and Anakin hadn’t imagined he could get any deeper. 

His hands scrambled back, gripping Obi-Wan’s thighs. 

He let Obi-Wan build the rhythm, rock their hips together before guiding Anakin up and just as he’d asked for so many times over, fucking into him. 

“Is this really all it takes to get you to behave, to pay attention .” Oh it wasn’t fair that Obi-Wan could talk like he was so collected- not when Anakin’s moans came out choked in his throat and he was struggling to string thoughts togethers. “I’ve spent years lecturing when I should have just fucked you.”

“Yes, yes — you should have-“ Obi-Wan fucked in slightly different, it was just right and it left Anakin keening. He braced forward instead, chasing that new angle again and found that Obi-Wan could hit it with each thrust. He could feel that bleeding want into the Force, the coupling desire of both of them, built up and now poured out- branded across their skin the same as their heat and sweat. It all mixed in a glowing, vibrant buzz of desire and energy that was uniquely and always theirs. 

He felt Obi-Wan’s breath on his neck, almost missing it amidst the already hot air but it was enough to warn him before he was mouthing at Anakin’s skin, worrying a mark into the curve of his neck. His Padawan bared his skin in a drawn out moan, body practically vibrating with eagerness and anticipation. “Fuck, Master— you feel so good,” Anakin panted, clenching around him. 

Obi-Wan could feel it like an extension of himself, like all those too loud thoughts that Anakin had hummed with during that ridiculous, infuriatingly boring meeting. His feet flat on the bed, he had just the right leverage to push into Anakin and force his hips down to meet him— the noises it dragged out of both of them were wrecked and wet. Anakin felt so full that he swore he’d be able to feel Obi-Wan from the outside- his cock was leaking precum right onto his Master’s stomach. It dropped down both their skin to smear where their bodies were already joined together. 

Harder , please Obi-Wan,” he begged, knocked breathless. 

Obi-Wan curled a hand around his neck, palm possessive and firm at the nape, just pressing into short damp curls and guiding him as they rocked together. “So impatient, what happened to being good, my dear Padawan?” The tick to Obi-Wan’s voice was so collected, words rumbled and bitten into Anakin’s ear. Such a little thing shouldn’t have made him shake with want, but he was losing that last grip on his control. And Obi-Wan knew it. 

“Will you come for me, just like this, dear one? Not even a hand on your cock because you take me so well .” Anakin’s eyes kept snapping from a lidded gaze to rolled back bliss. 

Yes, ” it was a mantra in his head, yes he’d be good , yes, yes he’d come for Obi-Wan, he’d do anything. He was his, a trade off of Yours, Mine in his head. His Master. His Padawan. He wanted to come apart like this and see Obi-Wan do the same. He wanted that flushed face and those bitten off gasps burned into his skin and into his memory. This was his Obi-Wan. “ Oh , fuck, I’m going to— ahh-

Beautiful , Anakin.”

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin came with just as enthusiastic spurts across both their chests, face pressed into his Master’s neck. And still he rocked his hips and clenched around his cock, endlessly seeking pleasure. 

Maybe it was those added sensations, or maybe it was the way Anakin exploded in the Force, his desire rolling through their bond that had Obi-Wan’s orgasm chasing right after. It was a high of pushing and pulling, the cresting of both their arousal when Anakin felt him come so vividly it was like a punch— it was like he could feel each thrust all the way in the throat. He was gasping out his pleasure and if he could put the words together he would have been begging his Master and thanking him for each sensation. Unable to do that, he let Obi-Wan pull him back down and kiss him. 

It held heat and promise. This would not be the only time they did this; he let Obi-Wan drink in his moans and panted breaths. He could die like this, happy and sated. There was nothing else in the galaxy but the slide of their bodies together, the press of their skin and each bruise and bite and the burn of Obi-Wan’s beard that had been left behind. 

But of course while Anakin was brainless and only knew that this had been a cosmically perfect fuck, Obi-Wan was still his too put together, teasing self. 

“Oh don’t say I’ve lost you, Anakin, we do still have negotiations to continue tomorrow and it’d be rude for me to show up without you.” His ridiculous face- he wasn’t even smug, just beaming with pride and amusement. 

“I’m sure you can make my excuses.” Anakin flushed at the sound of his own voice. It was already ragged. “Just tell them I’ve been fucked so thoroughly I’ll never walk again.”

He was trying to be mad, knowing the aches that would come when the rest of this post orgasm haze subsided. That’s when he’d really be annoyed with Obi-Wan— but instead his Master’s lips were trailing his skin with tender caresses. “My, I do hope that’s not true at all. It would ruin my plans entirely.”

“Your plans?”

“Oh yes. I wanted to fuck you again after you shared your diplomatic solution tomorrow. And perhaps see how many more rounds I can get in before then too.” 

It was ridiculous and almost sentimental, even if it made his skin over hot and over sensitive, every part of his body begging that it was too soon for another go. It didn’t matter, if it was what Obi-Wan wanted, he’d happily provide a million times over. How convenient that he just as equally wanted to get fucked into a moaning pliant mess by his Master until the end of his days.