Chapter Text
The dark maw of the open-mouthed cave seemed to groan ominously as Anakin and Obi-Wan approached it. Anakin balked at the dark presence emanating from its depths, feeling a pulse in the Force beating at its center. It was certain: the Sith holocron was here.
Sideways, he shot a look at Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye, meeting his gaze with his own. A pensive look graced the alpha’s face, surely feeling the same thing Anakin did. He didn’t even need to ask. Obi-Wan stroked his beard in consideration, determination sparking brilliant in his Force signature.
They did not need to speak. Wordlessly, they both drew their ‘sabers in unison and stepped into the cave at a measured pace, the only sound in the deep dark depths their measured breaths and steady heartbeats. Side by side, they marched toward the heart of the cave, where a sickly red glow had begun to radiate.
At the center was a raised pedestal, the holocron levitating above it. It was the color of blood, and oozed darkness throughout the cavern. Anakin shuddered at the pure evil he felt from it, and reinforced his shields to protect himself. Beside him, Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath and spoke for the first time in a long while.
“Well, we’ve certainly found it,” he remarked. “But how to retrieve it, the question remains.”
Anakin quirked a brow at him. “Can’t we just grab it, Master? Its power should be contained within the walls of the holocron, only unlocked with purposeful intent, right?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, this holocron will affect those who merely touch its contents. We must proceed with caution.”
As he spoke, the holocron’s pulse grew stronger, its glow increasing in brightness until its light seemed to explode out of it and suffuse the two of them in its sickly red light. As the light washed over them, Anakin felt his shields disintegrate and he fell to his knees, completely immobilized. His head spun as though he had had too much liquor, and he clutched at the rocky ground under him, trying to retain his grip on reality.
As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Panting, he looked over to where Obi-Wan was in a similar state, down on his knees, but clutching his stomach. When he regained the ability to move, he rushed over to his master.
“Master, are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Obi-Wan shuddered at his touch as though burned and jerked away from him, rising to his feet.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he said stiffly, mopping his sweaty brow with his sleeve.
Strange, Anakin thought, but took a step back to give him space.
“What was that?” Anakin asked.
“It appears the holocron activated its power.” Obi-Wan motioned to the holocron, where it lay tilted on the pedestal, no longer levitating or glowing.
Anakin looked down at himself, quickly assessing his body.
“I don’t feel any different,” he said, confused.
Obi-Wan hesitated, so quickly that only someone highly attuned to his body language would be able to pick up on. Someone like Anakin. “Neither do I.”
Obi-Wan stepped up to the pedestal and grasped the inert holocron with his bare hands. Anakin frowned at his back, the feeling that something was off niggling at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside to focus on the matter at hand.
“Master, should you really be touching that?”
Obi-Wan turned around, wrapping the holocron in a spare cloth. “It has already expended its energy after we activated its defense mechanism and it should have no further effect on us. Besides,” Obi-Wan quirked a grin at him, “we have already been exposed to its power. There’s not much more it can do to us in this state.”
Anakin grimaced, considering his master’s explanation, and then nodded in acquiescence. “Alright, Master. But if you start to feel weird, please let me know, okay?”
Obi-Wan smiled fondly at him. “Of course, my friend. And I expect the same from you as well.”
Anakin laughed, and the two of them strode out of the cave back toward their ship. They had a council to report to.
***
One month later.
Obi-Wan was acting strangely, and it was making Anakin’s alpha instincts go haywire. His skin felt too tight and his gums itched, fangs threatening to run long in his mouth whenever Obi-Wan was around him. He also smelled different, his normal musky alpha scent threaded through with something almost sweet and milky, and whenever anyone came too close to touching his master, Anakin had to suppress the urge to growl and rip their throat out. He would blame the torch he had long carried for his former master, but this was different. This wasn’t the normal affection and arousal he felt for his master. That was there, of course, it always was, but it was accompanied by the sheer overpowering urge to protect and claim that had him gritting his teeth with the effort holding back gave him.
He had never before felt such a powerful urge to pin the alpha under him and make him submit, but the way Obi-Wan’s scent bled sweet and milky like a–Force, it should be impossible–like a pupped omega, made him snarl and bare his teeth in dominance and aggression.
It was impossible, he knew. Obi-Wan was an alpha, just like he was, and would never accept the mating claim Anakin longed to give him, along with the thorough breeding Anakin had fantasized about giving him since he learned what his cock was for.
It wasn’t right, desiring another of the same designation, but ever since he had presented, and presented wrong, sobbing his way through his devastating first rut and first knot, the thought of breeding his master had not left his head. If he couldn’t be the perfect omega to his master’s alpha, he determined, then he wanted to be the only one to be able to make his master submit.
He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, not since that first rut, when his instincts went haywire and his head swum with pubescent mating hormones that drove him to take. But with Obi-Wan scenting so sweetly and tilting his head in the barest hint of deference whenever Anakin spoke to him, those old desires flared deep in his gut. Anakin felt like he was going out of his mind. He had to be imagining things. Obi-Wan would never submit to him, strong alpha that he was, oozing dominance from every pore and demanding submission with just the tone of his voice. But here he was, averting his eyes and tilting his chin whenever Anakin was near.
Anakin was starting to seriously consider checking himself into the Halls of Healing, so strong his instincts felt, when Obi-Wan collapsed in their kitchen one morning.
***
“Pregnant?” Anakin echoed, staring astonishedly at Master Che, who nodded. Anakin turned to look at Obi-Wan, who was sitting slumped on the examination bed, gaze locked somewhere near his knees. He wouldn’t look at him.
Anakin turned back toward Master Che, mind whirling. “How is this possible, Master? Obi-Wan is an alpha. There’s no way he could get pregnant!”
Master Che hesitated, and Anakin felt Obi-Wan go very still next to him. The silence stretched out longer, and Anakin looked back and forth between them. “What?” he demanded. “What is it?”
Obi-Wan sighed. “I am not an alpha,” he said very quietly. “I am an omega.” His gaze was still firmly glued to the floor.
Anakin reeled with shock. “You’re…” He trailed off, betrayal and devastation seeping into the shock. “I…I have to go,” he said, spinning on his heel and practically running from the room.
***
Anakin paced up and down the halls of the Temple, fuming. How could his master lie to him for all these years, and about something so important as his designation? What was so wrong with him that his master felt he couldn’t trust him? And to top it all off, he had to go and get pregnant with someone who wasn’t Anakin.
Anakin seethed. He wanted to find the stupid sleemo who had knocked his master up and rip their head from their body. How dare someone put their hands on Obi-Wan. How dare they touch him the way he had always dreamed. How dare Obi-Wan let them. Anakin curled his hands into fists, growling around his lengthened canines, his whole body a tense thrumming line of anger, and startled at the door he found in front of him. He had paced his way over to their quarters, and Anakin could sense Obi-Wan inside.
He sighed, haphazardly shoving his anger into the Force. He couldn’t see Obi-Wan like this. His disposition was delicate. It would not do to stress him out with his unchecked emotions. And it was time they had a talk. Steeling himself for a difficult conversation, Anakin keyed in the code to his and Obi-Wan’s quarters and strode inside.
Anakin’s gaze zeroed in on Obi-Wan, sitting at their small kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. Carefully, Anakin sniffed the air, and now that he knew what he was looking for, that note of milky sweetness in Obi-Wan’s scent blared like a homing beacon. Instantly all his rage came flooding back in, and he grit his teeth down to the jawbone so he wouldn’t say something stupid. But stupid, nonetheless, came pouring out of his mouth.
“How could you not tell me, Obi-Wan? Am I worth so little to you that you had to hide your designation from me?” Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop him, but Anakin would not be stopped. “I thought we trusted each other! I thought we left all the lies and deception behind when the war ended! I thought all that was behind us! But no,” Anakin raged, beginning to pace angrily around their kitchen. “You hid something from me, again!”
“Anakin–”
“And to top it all off,” Anakin interrupted, “you had to go and get pregnant!”
“Anakin!”
“Who is he?” Anakin rounded on Obi-Wan, breathing heavily from his angry tirade. “Who is the sleemo that put his hands on you and pupped you up?”
“Anakin, language!” Obi-Wan said, standing from the table.
“No, Master, don’t ‘language’ me! Tell me! I have a right to know!”
“It’s you, Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted, folding his arms in front of him. “You’re the father!”
Anakin’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“You’re the father.”