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From the shadows, Vader watches a Jedi browsing the stall of a vendor selling local delicacies.
The man looks relatively plain, to his eyes. Maybe slightly taller than the average human male. Reddish hair and a beard. His body is hidden by layers of clothing.
Vader doesn’t understand why the rest of the Sith are so obsessed with him. Kenobi is all Dooku and Maul can talk about, it seems. Maul desires revenge and Dooku wishes to bring the Jedi to their side.
Even Sidious, who pretends to be above the petty squabbling of the others, has expressed his frustration that Kenobi just won’t die when he’s in private. Vader doesn’t think he was supposed to hear – his master often forgets he’s there after a lesson.
It’s for this reason that Vader is here. He’s going to bring Sidious Kenobi’s head and he’s finally going to make his master happy.
He bides his time and stalks the Jedi through the market from a distance. The sun lowers in the sky and shadows creep further across the ground, allowing Vader to get closer and closer to his target.
The man seems to be purposeless. He wanders from street to street, through alleys and intersections, without a destination that Vader can discern.
Somehow, Vader loses track of him in an alley. He reaches a dead end and the Jedi is nowhere to be found. Frustrated, he starts to backtrack and casts his mind out into the Force, searching for a signature of pure light.
He’s passing the refuse bin of a local café when a body slams into him from behind. Face pressed into the dirty stone wall of the alley, Vader grabs for his lightsaber immediately. It’s gone. He snarls in rage that someone was able to get the drop on him.
“Easy there darling,” a voice whispers in his ear. Both of Vader’s wrists are being pinned, but the grip gentles when he quiets down and the body behind him presses closer. “You’ve been following me. I just want to know why.”
Something about the voice is hypnotic. Vader would do anything to hear this man call him darling again.
He really hopes this isn’t why the rest of the Sith are obsessed with Kenobi.
“I’m here to eliminate you for my master,” Vader manages to gather himself together and spits the words through gritted teeth. “You’ve been a thorn in our plans for too long now, Kenobi!”
Kenobi hums in his ear and lips brush the back of Vader’s neck, separated only by the thin material of his suit. “Whose plans would that be? I’m a nuisance to a great many people, you know,” he says conversationally. Vader feels the tip of Kenobi’s tongue lave over the top of his spine. What the fuck, he thinks fervently.
“The Sith,” Vader stutters. Something is happening in his core. He feels warm and tingly.
“If I let you turn around will you be a good boy and talk to me before we try and kill each other?”
Vader groans. If being called darling by Kenobi felt great, being called good boy is nearly transcendental. His pants feel tighter and he’s sure something must be wrong with him. Why would his body feel so hot and his mind so fuzzy unless he were sick? Maybe Kenobi has dosed him with something. Still, he turns watches the other man warily.
A large hand comes up to cup his face. Vaguely, Vader is aware that he should take this opportunity to attack. Kenobi is leaving himself open.
“You must be Darth Vader,” Kenobi purrs. “My fellow Jedi have been talking about you, you know. They say you’re a tempest on the battlefield. The few who’ve tried to talk to you say you’re feral.
“But I don’t think so. I think you’re just lonely, aren’t you darling? I could feel you, stalking me like a lonely little loth-wolf puppy. Do you know, not once did I feel any real threat from you in the Force?”
Vader should feel humiliated. He should leave. But his stomach still feels funny, his penis aches, his thoughts are slow like he’s been drugged, and he doesn’t know why.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispers. Vader has faced torture before. He’s been subdued and beaten down and nothing has felt like this. Have the Jedi come up with a new technique not even the Sith have heard of?
How upset will his master be to learn that his apprentice has fallen to a Jedi?
The fear of his master’s wrath rouses Vader from the fugue he’d been dropping into. “Let me go!” he thrashes in Kenobi’s grip, voice panicked. “He’ll kill me, just let me go!”
Kenobi pushes harder into Vader, fully pinning him between his body and the wall. “I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers, “nobody will hurt you while you’re with me.”
“Really?” Vader’s mind races. He’d thought that stalking Kenobi, killing him and bringing the proof to Sidious would earn him praise. Maybe even some measure of freedom, like Dooku and Maul enjoyed, but if his master learns that Vader had lost to a Jedi, even briefly… even if he kills Kenobi now, his master will pull this memory from him. The consequences will be dire.
He asks his next question with the memory of Force lightning stopping and restarting his heart playing on repeat. “Do you promise?”
“I promise, baby, you’re safe with me,” Kenobi’s eyes are a steely blue. Vader hasn’t looked into eyes so beautiful since he last saw his mother alive. “Now why don’t you show me what’s hiding under this mask?”
He lifts the top part of the mask from Vader’s face first. Fingers caress his brow, the bridge of his nose, wipe a droplet of moisture from below his lashes, and finally rest over the synth leather that wraps over Vader’s jaw. Slowly, he removes it and makes an appreciative noise when Vader’s full face is revealed to him.
“Beautiful, just like I knew you would be,” he murmurs. Kenobi’s fingers must catch on something in the mask because he frowns and drops his gaze away from Vader. “What’s this?”
Vader follows his gaze. He’s studying the mask, gaze darkening.
“Microneedle array,” Vader tells him matter-of-factly, “for when I misbehave or master needs to teach me a lesson. Norbutal. Paraleptin,” he hesitates, unsure for a moment if he should reveal everything to the Jedi, “Muratine.”
He’s starting to think of a plan. Kenobi, so far, has not been particularly violent. He’s promised that Vader is safe with him, but Vader needs to ensure that Kenobi wants to keep him around.
“He has a trigger for it. It’s distance limited, not very complex. I could make you one easily,” he offers quietly. Kenobi doesn’t seem the type to overuse discipline. Not like Master Sidious.
Kenobi snarls. For the first time, Vader sees his face twist in rage. Even in the holos of fights between Dooku or Maul and Kenobi, Vader hasn’t seen him look this angry. Instinctively, he ducks his head and tries to make himself smaller.
From the corner of his eye, he sees the mask go flying and land in the dumpster to their side. Immediately, one of Kenobi’s big hands his back on his face.
“I’m sorry darling,” he soothes, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Why don’t you come back to my ship with me? We can get to know each other better there. You can tell me how to protect you.”
Vader agrees readily. Sidious can’t track Kenobi’s ship, he knows this because it had taken him ages to get a read on it, and Vader had erased any traces of his work before leaving the Sith temple he was kept in. None of the other Sith are as capable with technology as he is.
It’s not far to the small cruiser Kenobi had taken planet side, and he keeps at least one hand on him the entire way. As soon as the door is closed behind them, Kenobi is leading Vader to the sleeping quarters.
“Let’s get you out of this suit, shall we? See what other nasty surprises your master has hidden in it.”
“Microneedles down the spine, electric nodes, and explosives,” Vader tells him promptly.
Kenobi makes a strangled sound and his hands are all over Vader. They find the attachments that are impossible for Vader to unfasten on his own, and soon enough he’s fully stepping out of the suit. He is taken out of it often enough – his master insists that Vader stay clean, and of course he’s frequently being put in a bacta tank – but never alone. Never without the watchful eye of at least one assassin droid programmed to subdue or eliminate him should he make a move to escape.
Kenobi’s hands are on his bare skin now. Vader gasps and arches into the touch. He hadn’t realized that human contact was something he enjoyed. Or maybe he’d just forgotten, it had been so long since he felt a kind hand, but Kenobi’s hands on his skin are the best thing he’s ever felt.
“Oh darling, is this for me?” One of those hands slips down, to cup Vader’s stiffening cock.
“Kenobi,” Vader gasps. It feels good, but he doesn’t know why. Right now, though, anything Kenobi wants is his if he’ll keep freeing Vader from his bonds. Keep him safe.
“I think you can call me Obi-Wan, now. Do you have a name, baby?”
Vader opens eyes he hadn’t realized were closed and blinks at him in confusion. “You were right, earlier. Darth Vader.”
Obi-Wan chuckles. “Your real name, baby. Not the fake name the Sith gave you.”
Real name. The idea echoes in Vader’s head. Obi-Wan’s right, he has another name. He hasn’t allowed himself to think it in years. Sidious had always seemed to know when he was thinking of himself as – as –
“Anakin.”
There is no repercussion. No lightning or light saber or murdered friend. Only Obi-Wan’s lips on his, mouthing his name.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan repeats over and over between gentle kisses. Vader has his eyes open, now, and notices that Obi-Wan is watching his eyes between kisses. “A beautiful name for a beautiful boy.”
The hand between Anakin’s legs moves again and Anakin chokes.
“What?” he gasps out, “what are you doing?”
Obi-Wan doesn’t stop. His fingers curl loosely around Anakin’s cock and stroke it, up and down. Anakin squirms in Obi-Wan’s embrace, searching for something he can’t name.
“Making you feel good, Anakin, haven’t you ever felt good before?”
Mutely, Anakin shakes his head, eyes wide as Obi-Wan sinks gracefully to his knees. “Do you know what this is for?” Obi-Wan punctuates his question by squeezing his fingers around Anakin’s cock, thumb pressing firmly just under the head.
“To void the bladder?” Anakin asks, confused. “This hasn’t happened before, I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Obi-Wan glides his hand up and down a few more times. “Nothing’s wrong, baby. Your cock is made for you to fuck.” The word sounds filthy coming from his mouth. Anakin gasps, and his cock twitches in Obi-Wan’s hands. “Do you want to try it? Would you like to fuck my mouth, baby?”
Anakin nods, too overcome to reply verbally. He’s not sure what Obi-Wan means, but he’s taken such good care of Anakin this far that it must be something good. Obi-Wan smiles at him and squeezes once more before his hands come to Anakin’s hips, his tongue licks up Anakin’s cock from base to tip leaving a lewd trail of saliva, and he takes the head into his mouth.
Panting, Anakin scrabbles for something to hold on to before Obi-Wan takes one of Anakin’s hands and guides it to grip his hair.
It’s all he can do to hold on as Obi-Wan sinks down, taking more and more of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth. Anakin whines, high and needy. Heat is building in his gut and he feels funny again, but he trusts Obi-Wan to take care of him. He promised not to hurt him, after all.
Obi-Wan pulls back and sucks on the head of his cock. Anakin’s fingers tighten in his hair. He feels like he’s on a precipice, just waiting for Obi-Wan’s permission to tip over.
“Come, baby, come for me,” Obi-Wan murmurs before taking Anakin back into his mouth. His tongue dances on the underside of Anakin’s cock and he falls over the edge. Warmth floods his body, the building tension snaps, and he releases into Obi-Wan’s mouth. When he pulls back, Anakin sees white coating his tongue.
Obi-Wan smiles up at him, showing Anakin his tongue.
Anakin falls to his knees and kisses Obi-Wan. It’s messy and sloppy, nothing at all like the kisses Obi-Wan had given him earlier, but he’s desperate to know what the strange fluid tastes like.
It’s salty and bitter, and he swallows it eagerly. “Is that what you taste like?” he asks Obi-Wan breathlessly.
Obi-Wan opens his legs wider and guides one of Anakin’s hands to rest over the large bulge in his trousers. “Do you want to find out?”
“Yes,” Anakin breathes, “yes, please Obi-Wan.” He paws at Obi-Wan’s clothes, trying to free his cock so Anakin can taste it. Can give Obi-Wan the same indescribable pleasure he’d just given Anakin so freely.
Laughing, Obi-Wan lifts his hips and helps Anakin shimmy his pants off. “Slow down, baby, we’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Promise?” Anakin asks, looking up at Obi-Wan hopefully. “Will you keep me, master?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes flash and Anakin watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “I never could resist a pair of pretty blue eyes,” he murmurs and pulls Anakin up for another kiss before letting him go when Anakin determinedly reaches for the prize he’s finally freed from Obi-Wan’s underclothes. “I won’t let you go, baby.”