Archive of Our Own

Alone. Anakin always hated it, that empty desolate feeling. Unoccupied with only his self for company. It was always then he began to fester, spiral downwards into that cesspool of emotion. 

Really he should have been asleep, time ticked by, and in a few hours Obi-Wan would expect him up and ready for their morning meditation. Only, Anakin could not rest, tossing and turning, thoughts rampant. Anything and everything crossed his mind. 

With solitude came uncertainty, and with uncertainty came fear. Afraid of what could happen, of the past, of the future. Constricting it’s way around his stomach, tightening further and further until something was bound to pop. 

At least during the day he could train. No matter how boring or tedious it may have become it was better than the nothingness which came at night. Besides boredom encouraged deviance. Get under his Master’s skin, push boundaries, see what he could get away with - some days more so than other’s. 

But right then darkness blanketed him, muffling the room around. Vague shapes sat in the far corners, though his eyes had mostly adjusted by then. Staring up at that ceiling, an activity he was all so familiar with. Crushed by the all so familiar weight of destiny bestowed upon him, something all he had ever known, something he did not entirely want. 

No one ever fully understood just how suffocating it was; the frustration, the pressure, the exhaustion forever looming over his shoulder. Everyone apart from Anakin knew what was best for him, how he should act, feel and think. Because Anakin was just a Padawan, autonomy was not his own, chosen one or not. It was infuriating. 

And it was that exact spiral he hated. Able to feel each jagged edge of anger rip through his veins. He had to sleep and that certainly was not helping. 

Right side, left side, flat on his back. No position helped. Envisioning how he’d get up with worn pools under his eyes, Obi-Wan stood waiting in their quarters, asking how he slept. And of course there was no lying to him, his Master always sniffed out the truth, but it never stopped Anakin from doing so. Sure, he slept just fine. 

Perhaps if he begged Obi-Wan would let him skip meditation, rest a while longer. Only Anakin didn’t want that, not really. That morning routine was theirs, something privately intimate Anakin could never disregard. No matter how every fibre of his being hated it, found it useless, pedantic. Utterly mind numbing. Anakin still got up bright and early to attend every single day like clockwork. One thing to look forward to after yet another extensive night. A guilty pleasure of sorts he would take to his grave. 

All he had to do was stare out of those high rise windows until the sun rose, bringing Coruscant to life once again, not that it ever really died. On occasion Anakin would get up, stare down at the lives lived below. Taunted by a freedom he could not have. 

Of course there were other options, not having to bind himself to yet another unsettled night. The one thing lingering in the back of his thoughts. No he shouldn’t do it, he was better than that, too old. Though it wasn’t like Obi-Wan ever said anything. Silently waking to Anakin’s motionless form curled by his bed. Never had it been acknowledged, not properly anyway. No, Obi-Wan always got up and about his day regardless, Anakin would awake as those bare feet hit the floor. Neither saying a word until out of that room and in their living quarters. Normal.

But Anakin couldn’t do it, hadn’t done for months. No he was above that, and what would Obi-Wan think? Instead Anakin had to prove himself competent, not some frightened boy cowering on his Master’s floor. No he was eighteen, a man. If he wanted to be treated like an adult he had to act like one.

Though there he was in bed, limbs heavy as if weighted with sand. Movements lethargic and slow, thoughts clouded and scarcely making sense. Just how much longer could he endure? Agitated, Anakin turned, deadweight as his body manoeuvred. Perhaps if he imagined it then it would be enough. Obi-Wan’s steady breaths. A sign he was alive, a sign he would not leave. Reminding Anakin he wasn’t alone, Obi-Wan in the room next door. That should have been enough, even if he could not experience it for himself.

But he remembered the music of his Master’s breaths, soothing him at his most vulnerable. Someone there with him, someone not going anywhere, someone permanent. Watched over and safe. If anything did come for Obi-Wan in the night then Anakin would be there. 

Though those thoughts had been boyish and immature, Anakin shouldn’t have needed anyone. Something he so often told himself. Only, Obi-Wan continued to bring comfort. And the idea of that cold lifeless floor appeared far more reassuring than anything that soulless bedroom of Anakin’s had to offer. 

One night then. Maybe once more wouldn’t hurt would it? If it meant getting some sleep then it could be worth while. Not like Obi-Wan would say anything about it when he awoke anyway. But maybe Anakin wanted him to, just once. Attention from his Master was far more rewarding than anything taught. Because Anakin was the only one who could sleep there, the only one who did. No matter who his Master got close with, that was Anakin’s spot. 

Destined to follow his feelings, he got up. Movement sluggish, practically dead on his feet. The cool air attempted to shock his body to life. Still debating himself as he padded his way to the door. 

Obi-Wan would never see him as an equal, as grown. No Padawan who sought refuge in their Master’s room would ever be deemed ready for the Trials. And yet there Anakin was, heel of his palm twisted into his eye socket, one foot clumsy before the other, hovering outside that controversial space. 

It would be the last time. Ever since it started that was what Anakin had told himself, a one off, getting it out of his system, never again. And how he tried to listen, to convince himself that was the case. But this time it would be true, needed it. One good night’s rest and it would be over. Wouldn’t ever have to think of it again. Give in to the roaring wave of relief.

So he cracked that door open. Because what else was he to do? Obi-Wan lay asleep against the still atmosphere. Controlled breathing even when unconscious, the man never did let go. 

For a second Anakin just stood, doorway framing his form. He always did admire how Obi-Wan slept. Even when obscured by the dark Anakin could picture it. Tension released from his Master’s face, body free of stress. Sometimes Anakin wanted to reach out and touch, feel that neat beard beneath a kiss of fingertips. Swipe stray hairs from his temple. But Anakin didn’t, only ever watching.

Right then was no different, subconsciously cursing the lack of light, greedily wanting that view all for himself. But he crept in delicately, surprisingly gentle when not headstrong and boisterous, perhaps training had paid off after all. Last thing Anakin wanted was to disturb his Master’s peace. 

That spot next to the bed was far more inviting, no other place he would rather be. Settling into a sense of tranquility, his own bicep an adequate pillow, very much resembling a loth-cat in how he lay. All the while listening, ears pricked, attuned to the noise. The inhale and exhale of Obi-Wan remained consistent, lulling Anakin tenderly. A melody even to the man’s lungs. 

A sly smile crept over Anakin. He was home. 

Just when he was about to succeed, eyelids drooping, threatening to close one final time that was when he saw it. Something grabbed his attention from the tail of his vision. A splash of contrast amidst the beige, his sight having adjusted more. Unable to detect distinct colour but it stood out no less.

That hamper, the dirty laundry. Carelessly draped from the edge like it was nothing. Perhaps having been flung in without second thought. 

Anakin’s heart sank. That green horrid emotion bubbled it’s way to the surface. No longer tired, he knew exactly what he was looking at. The shape distinct enough. Really it should have been none of his business. Any rational Padawan would have blushed before promptly forgetting. After all Anakin shouldn’t have been there to begin with, already trespassing. But Anakin had never been described as rational. 

With compulsion he moved, half crawling over, piloted by envy. Barely maintaining that quiet exterior, deaf to the sounds of his Master’s slumber. Gaining that confirmation long before reaching out. 

The offending item trembled in his grip, adrenaline far too high. Blood rushed between his ears. Panties. A delicately laced pair. They stared back at him. 

Just who’s were they? And what were they doing in Obi-Wan’s bedroom?

Casting his mind back, it stumped him. Never had Anakin seen him with a woman. Sure yeah Obi-Wan flirted, but that was all it appeared to be, not teetering beyond that. The Jedi code and what not. Plus their bond was strong and the walls were thin, he’d have felt it, or at the very least heard it if Obi-Wan was entertaining someone next door. 

Maybe Anakin wasn’t as perceptive as he’d have thought. 

He sat there hunched, panties encased in a fist. If his Master was seeing someone that was bad. Unable to pinpoint why, it just was. Anakin was Obi-Wan’s priority, Anakin was Obi-Wan’s responsibility, Anakin was Obi-Wan’s favourite. Even if never said aloud it had to be true. The fond endearment cast Anakin’s way combined with the mischief he so often got away with. Only that couldn’t be the case anymore could it? If Obi-wan was dating then Anakin was no longer safely seated in that top spot. Someone out there threatened that. 

Nothing on them indicated the owner, or at least not in the pitch black anyway. He supposed panties weren’t something which typically came with name tags. 

Thoughts diluted with rage, spilling inside him, flowing through limbs, intensifying bit by bit. Power waiting to burst free. Obi-Wan couldn’t have a girlfriend. No one could out weigh Anakin’s importance. 

Sat there imagining someone run their hands over his Master’s chest, know his lips, share the affection of sex. A connection forbidden between Master and Padawan. Yet someone else got that privilege, had the audacity, knew that sight.

In explosive emotion Anakin threw them as hard as he could, the panties fluttered to the floor. Not exactly the impactful outcome intended. Though afterwards he glanced behind, sight tunnelled in on Obi-Wan who lay oblivious to everything. Instead of safety all Anakin felt was each pulse of jealousy. There he was on the ground when his Master had been sharing his bed. How pathetic.

Reluctantly he went back to his place, a hint of warmth from where he had curled before. No other choice but to keep a cap on things until morning. If he cracked open an eye he could make out the crumpled heap of the underwear. That unknown woman mocked him even from a distance. 

Exhaustion and obsession morphed into one tremendous emotion. Too tired to form coherence, though awake enough to endure. 

What had he done wrong for his Master to leave him? To seek out the company of another? Anakin could barely find fault within himself; always an obedient learner, picked up skills fast, advanced for his age. Surely Obi-Wan liked having him around? Because it had always been them, the pair of them together, a duo if there ever was one. They came as a package. So why did Obi-Wan want someone else? Desire such closeness? Anakin should have been perfect! 

It was questions like that which followed Anakin into the sunrise. Until morning light pounded against the blinds, until Obi-Wan stirred in his bed. Those bare feet against the ground with a muted thud. Only then did Anakin’s eyes shut in an unconvincing act.

Breakfast. An important meal for a growing young man. Anakin would happily devour whatever was placed before him. But right then was different. Instead his wayward fork prodded at the food, pushing it around his plate, his cheek slumped into knuckles. 

Even when Anakin’s stomach grumbled he did not cave, not particularly caring. All through meditation Obi-Wan had scolded him; not concentrating, distracted, need to focus. Eaten alive by the knowledge of Obi-Wan’s secret girlfriend.

Because she must have been, right? If her laundry was in with his then it was bound to be serious. Just how long had it been going on for? How long had Anakin been unwanted? Was that why Obi-Wan always insisted on doing his own washing? 

That hideous mood lingered in the air. Obi-Wan was all he had. How could someone be so selfish and take that from him? It wasn’t fair. 

He could barely raise his gaze to stare at his Master opposite. They had eaten in silence - or at least Obi-wan had, Anakin barely touched his. The refectory buzzed with chatter, both of them plunged in the middle of it. 

“Come on Anakin,” The start of the first real conversation they had that morning. “What’s the matter you’ve barely touched your food?”

Anakin’s sight slid up from that plate, staring through a furrowed brow. “I’m not hungry Master.” The sentence bitter. 

“Well I hardly believe that for a second,” Obi-Wan sat back, arms crossed tight over his chest. “Not once in the almost ten years of knowing you have I seen you refuse a meal.” 

When Anakin looked all he could see was someone else’s hands, envisioning how they mapped Obi-Wan’s naked form. The image killed any remaining prospect of hunger. 

He said nothing as he glanced back to the mush, barely able to distinguish much from anything. His fork had done a destructive job. 

“If you’re feeling unwell then-”

“Not feeling unwell.” Anakin’s flat interjection. Obi-Wan’s puzzled expression bore into him. 

“Something is bothering you young one, I can sense it. First you cannot meditate and now this.” 

“Just had a bad night, that’s all.” As if that were some gotcha moment, knowing Obi-Wan wouldn’t bring up where he found Anakin that morning. 

“Bad enough to put you of breakfast? Don’t take me for a fool Anakin.” A stern edge to his voice. 

The chuckle Anakin let slip seeped with hostility. “Don’t take you for a fool?” Repeated back in calm passive aggression. 

“Yes, I’d much rather you show me some respect,” Doing an equally poor job of masking his frustration. “I don’t know what’s got into you but-”

“What about me?” Boiling point reached.

“… What about you?” 

He really was playing stupid wasn’t he? Perhaps he would have successfully convinced Anakin otherwise if the recollection of that fabric in his fist wasn't so vivid.

“When were you going to tell me?” Fork down. Both arms folded over the table. Cold plate of food pushed away. 

“I’m really not following?” What a liar.

Anakin just huffed, a heavy roll of his eyes. If Obi-Wan didn’t want to be taken for a fool he should have stopped acting like one. 

“But please, do enlighten me.” That sarcasm never failed to get under Anakin’s skin. 

“You tell me to show you respect but you keep secrets of your own!” And there it was. “I’m not a youngling. If you want respect it should go both ways.”

The bewilderment Obi-Wan wore only grew. “Anakin, I really don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Yes you do!” His voice breached the close confinement of their table. 

“I really don’t.” Leaning in, scolding Anakin in a stage whisper of sorts. Apparently conscious of the accumulated stares. 

“How am I meant to trust you if you don’t trust me?” Reining it in a bit, but not quite matching Obi-Wan’s discretion. 

“I can’t think what you’re on about.” 

“Your girlfriend.” There it was, all cards on the table.

“My what?” Balking at the statement. 

“You heard me. I know everything.” That hardened line of sight fell upon Obi-Wan. Anakin had got him. There was no way the man could deny it any longer. Studying the way in which Obi-Wan’s eyebrows knit, jaw hanging loose, eyes practically bulging from his skull. 

“I- I… what?” 

“No point denying it, I have all the evidence I need.” 

“What possibly makes you think I have a girlfriend?” Sounding as if he regretted the question about half way through. 

That smug sensation almost outweighed the hurt. No way could Obi-Wan deny it. Anakin would get the answers he deserved. 

“In your laundry.” 

“What about my laundry?” Still maintaining that baffled act. 

“The underwear.” 

“What-” And the rest of that sentence fell flat, colour drained from Obi-Wan’s face. 

“So don’t bother lying to me, I know the truth.” Concluded so coldly. 

Obi-Wan remained silent, Anakin could see those cogs turn. The man calculating something. Was he really going to continue to deny it? His reaction said everything, proving he had some secret girlfriend, another priority. Well tough luck, Anakin had found out.

“Anakin…” He was treading on ice. “I promise you this isn’t what it looks like.” A poor job of ironing out that tremor. 

“Yeah? Well what does it look like?” That rage returned. Was Anakin really not good enough to be told the truth? After everything they had endured together? 

For a while nothing else was said, Anakin’s vision narrowed while Obi-Wan ran fingers through his so carefully combed hair. 

“I can’t tell you, but you have to believe me.” The ice was cracking. 

Believe him? How could he when all Obi-Wan did was lie? Why did he need Anakin if he had the arms of some pretty woman instead? Clearly whatever Anakin offered wasn’t enough. 

Abruptly he stood, legs snapping up from under him. Before Obi-Wan could protest Anakin was gone, having shoved himself free of the table, the chair abandoned. Out that door, not quite walking, not quite running. Long strides. 

Once half way down the corridor Anakin looked back, unwanted prickling at the corners of his eyes. No Obi-Wan. Alone in the hallway. And that only fanned the flames. His Master didn’t even come after him, not willing to defend himself. Probably creating more lies to tell later.

With stiff coordination Anakin palmed away those tears. Though not particularly caring who saw, everyone in the refectory had witnessed his outburst anyway. No doubt the news would reach the Council sooner or later. Whatever. Not his problem. 

When confronted he could tell them, shine a light on Obi-Wan’s secret relationship, secret attachment. Then Obi-Wan would be sorry. Yeah, he’d be forced to end things with her. Maybe he’d be angry at Anakin for a short while but it was worth it, the dust would settle and everything would return to normal. How it should have always been. 

He paced, unable to keep still. The rush of that confrontation had yet to die. A few gurgles from his stomach, demanding the first meal of the day, something that should have been inside him by then. Anakin did his best to ignore it. 

Eventually he took refuge under some stairs, out of the way. One of few hiding spots he had discovered, typically utilised when a lecture was due. 

As much as he tried all he could think of were those panties. Just who was she? Surely Obi-Wan could have told Anakin. Because together they were different, surpassed the usual bond. Even if it was never said Anakin knew it. He could be trusted! The Jedi were built upon it, and honour, and selflessness, and peace. 

His hand carded through freshly shorn hair, poking through the gaps as his fingers splayed, tracing the curvature of his skull. So much negativity twisted within his chest, body merely a vessel for it. 

However he was ripped from those thoughts when footsteps approached. The pattern far too familiar for his liking, complete with that trickling presence through their bond. 

It was Anakin who saw Obi-Wan first, the man’s head darting around scanning the area. Features swarmed with relief when his eyes locked with Anakin’s. 

Great. He had been found. 

“There you are,” That tune to his voice bounced off the walls, shoulders relaxing while he approached. It wasn’t quite enough to improve Anakin’s mood but right then he saw the apple, the fruit presented as a gift. “I thought you might be hungry.” 

To which Anakin just stared as if the thing would bite. 

“I know it’s not much.” Obi-Wan tried yet again, dangling the offer a little more before Anakin’s nose. Still no reply. 

Eventually he gave up, sighing as he sat. The pair side by side. Not knowing what to do, Anakin just stared ahead, if he did not look Obi-wan could be ignored. Something which never really worked. 

“Please believe me when I tell you I have not lied,” The topic approached with caution. “But I don’t appreciate you prying either.” 

That got an unwarranted reaction. “Prying?” Anakin practically spat. “Was hardly prying.” Descending into a mumble, staring to his feet.

“Well what would you call it then? Because last I checked rifling through someone’s belongings was considered prying.” 

“I wasn’t going through,” And just like that the coin dropped. Halted in his tracks. “…your things.” Feeling each syllable as it left. 

Whether that revelation had been Obi-Wan’s intention or not was beyond him. His things. His belongings. But the man continued as normal. “Privacy is a sign of respect Anakin, I grant you yours as you must grant me mine.” 

With wide eyes and the snap of his head Anakin saw it, the dusting of pink over his Master’s cheeks. 

Clarity. Anakin had been so blinded by his own demolition, only then could he really see. Belongings. Obi-Wan’s belongings. There truly hadn’t been a girlfriend had there? No lies had been told. And most importantly Anakin was still irreplaceable. 

“I’m sorry Master.” The apology hollow. 

“What you found,” A sharp inhale. Thinking. “Was private,” So appropriately concluded. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t perpetuate the rumour that I have a girlfriend.” 

“Why?” Too aware he was pushing buttons. 

“Why- Because it’s not true!” And Obi-Wan fell for it every time. 

Right then Anakin had him. Noting how that pink deepened, a beautiful colour blossomed to the tips of his Master’s ears. 

“Because they’re yours.” A statement if anything. Already washed with calm, cleansed from the turmoil Anakin so often found himself in. That boil brought back down to a simmer. 

If anything the way in which Obi-Wan diverted his attention said everything, no verbal confirmation needed. But it wasn’t confirmation Anakin wanted, it was a confession. 

“No need to be embarrassed Master.” Said as that grin spilled across his face. 

“Please,” Too much vulnerability in a single word. “Please just forget about this.” 

With little subtlety Anakin’s eyes flitted over the man’s formless robes. Were those panties something Obi-Wan wore? Was he wearing some right then? Suddenly dirty pictures flooded his mind, his Master barely concealed by the thin lace stretched over his groin. Quickly Anakin shooed them away, already dealing with a tightening in his gut. 

Not often did Anakin have such power, witness Obi-Wan genuinely plea. All he could do was bask in the strange new found sensation, a bargaining chip if there ever was one. That was what Anakin told himself anyway, it was that which was the source of his intrigue. Nothing else, just humorous information which was bound to come in handy some day. 

But his Master jerked off with panties. Whether wearing them or sniffing them Anakin did not know. A twang of hoping it to be the former - because it was funnier obviously. Plus he had new found proof Obi-Wan had some semblance of libido, not the sexless and pristine Jedi he made himself out to be. A new light shone on the man. 

And most of all Obi-Wan did not have a girlfriend. 

“No worries Master, it’s already forgotten.” It was not.

Everything carried on as normal afterwards, or at least outwardly anyway. Duties to be done, training to be completed. Though more than once Anakin’s gaze slipped to his Master’s ass, wondering just how it would look hugged by the underwear. How well did they fit? Were they tight? Eyes snapping back to attention quickly when Obi-Wan turned. Anakin went on as expected.

But what was enjoyed about them? The sight? The smell? The sensation? Three questions always on rotation. 

Though safe in the knowledge his Master had no girlfriend, he could only assume they were for personal use. Composed and ever so compassionate Obi-Wan got off to women’s underwear. Information Anakin hungered for. Unable to just let go. Because he wouldn’t tell anyone, no. Maybe he could hold that empty threat over Obi-Wan’s head, but Anakin understood he could not follow through. That meant sharing a piece of his Master, an intimate part of him which only Anakin knew. Giving up something that was all his.

As much as he refused to acknowledge it, that new found information consumed him whole.

Sparring. No lightsabers, the focus was hand-to-hand. Something to only use when required, as reiterated oh so many times. 

Typically combat training was late morning, more mindful tasks in the afternoon, meditation before breakfast and after dinner. Rinse and repeat.

Anakin was no stranger to the training salles, the towering view of Coruscant with a trim of greenery around the edges. Each inch of the floor Anakin knew like the back of his hand, having spent far too much time there ever since he was a boy. Arguably the mundane highlight of his day. And Anakin was beyond distracted. 

“Remember, only engage when necessary,” Obi-Wan spoke from opposite, crouched low, ready to pounce. “But if you are disarmed this training could be crucial.” 

It was that which took Anakin aback. Obi-Wan was so ordinary, as if the conversation that morning had never happened. The flush from his face long gone, instead replaced by that stiff line of stress he so often wore. 

Hand-to-hand was far from Anakin’s favourite as well. As if he would ever drop his lightsaber. With that weapon he felt influential, strong and mighty. Unstoppable. Why would he ever choose his fists over that? A ridiculous notion if any. 

Though he mimicked his Master, mirroring the pose. 

“When you’re ready my young apprentice.” Sounding smug. 

“If you insist Master.” Obi-wan replied. 

Together they circled, neither making the first move. Legs bent, assessing the other. 

Sparring always was a way to blow off steam, channel that pent up energy rattling around Anakin’s body into something. Wordlessly venting those frustration’s when fighting. However there was more to it than that. The look which inevitably overcame his Master, stalking Anakin with his eyes. All Obi-Wan’s attention and energy directed towards him. 

Every ounce of praise and direction Anakin obtained only brought him higher. Needing to be the best sparring partner, competent, headstrong, and promising. Having been sculpted into the very fighter he was by Obi-Wan himself. 

And right then was no different. Behind his eyes Obi-wan calculated, Anakin could see it. Predicting the statistical outcome. It was marvellous, and an honour that Anakin got to see his Master in such a way. The man who avoided violence unless required. 

Only Anakin was far from predictable. 

Out of the blue he took a swing, his right hook better than his left. Naturally Obi-Wan dodged, angling his body out of the way. Anakin had missed. 

“Avoiding conflict is more beneficial than engaging,” Obi-Wan called out as he found his feet. “Always bear that in mind.” Yeah whatever. 

In a flash Anakin turned to strike again. The same outcome as before. Sithspit.

“Come on, listen to me Anakin. Don’t charge into it.” 

So he did just that, circling one another yet again. Though it didn’t last long, falsely lunging at his Master, watching the man jump backwards. It made Anakin laugh. 

“Be serious.” Obi-Wan scalded. 

“I am Master.” The reminiscence of that amusement still there. 

But then it was Obi-Wan’s turn, from no where he went for it. That once reserved man no where to be found. Instead Anakin was met with force, and fortunately slipping to the side, parrying the attack and his best to control his Master’s movement. One hand planted upon Obi-Wan’s chest, stopping the man from changing position. 

Something else he liked about sparring: the proximity. Not often did Anakin get physical affection, always taking what he could get. 

Maybe if Anakin had been faster he could have got Obi-Wan in an arm lock, watch that line of tension travel through the man, gloat as he writhed. But that hadn’t happened, because Anakin was off his game. 

Right there before him was a man trained in everything. Could go from a pacifist to a fighter in a blink. And all Anakin could do was envision him in panties. 

What if Obi-Wan was naked as he fought? All but for that delicate underwear low on his hips, happy trail descending into it, perhaps some light pudge around the sides. Cock bulging at the front, obscured by only a light lace pattern. Barely anything left to the imagination. What if-

“Good,” That praise snapped Anakin back to the room. Facing each other once more. “That’s more like it.” 

The sight didn’t help. Hair having fallen to the man’s face, stuck in place by a sheen of sweat. All it did was make Anakin think. 

“Just warming up.” So cockily replied. 

Obi-Wan smirked, carding fingers through his hair fixing it immediately. “We’ll see about that.”

It went on, neither successfully getting a hit on the other. Panties, panties, panties, it was all Anakin’s brain could scream. Okay yeah, maybe he was curious. It was entertaining. How could Anakin possibly be expected to let that go? In the past Anakin had poked fun at the man for less. 

Together they were locked in limbo, doing a sort of dance. Back and forth. Blocking, parrying, defending. Understanding the other as they moved.

However it was when Obi-Wan went for the lapel, snagging Anakin in one fluid swoop. An action he should have seen coming. 

Before anything could be done he was on his ass, Obi-Wan having hooked his own leg around Anakin’s and sweeping it out from beneath. But Anakin knew better than to go down alone, grip fisted into his Master’s robes as they both met the ground with a crash. A less than elegant end to their skirmish. 

For a moment there was only breathing. Obi-Wan atop, ruffled hair, though Anakin supposed he himself didn’t look so great either. The air between them intermingled while Obi-Wan peered down. Close. Oh so very close. 

Kriff why did he have to look so good? Anakin did nothing, malleable where he lay, not bothering to fight back. Why would he? Meanwhile Obi-Wan still held him in place, most of his weight distributed across Anakin’s chest. Though not really pinning him, just holding. The pair still in the comedown of their spar. Anakin could have escaped.

Up close like that Anakin swore he could count the man’s freckles. Noting how those eyelashes had lightened during the summer months. And then of course there were those eyes, faintly able to make out those crinkles when his Master smiled. 

But it was soon to be broken, Obi-Wan quick to sit himself back on haunches, having come to his senses. Though still straddling. Meanwhile Anakin’s arm swung up behind his head. Comfortable. 

“You ought to be more observant,” Of course it was a lecture. “That was a basic move, one you should have been aware of.” 

“Sorry Master.” He didn’t mean it. 

“If this were a real life situation you would be injured or worse.” 

And Anakin did not like that. “No I wouldn’t,” Retreating behind those defensive walls in his mind. “I’d have my lightsaber.” 

“What if there’s a time you don’t have it, that you’ve lost it? What then?”

“I’d never lose it.” Boldly shot back. 

“Oh really?” To which Obi-Wan’s arms crossed, thighs still stretched over Anakin’s pelvis, staring down with a quirked brow. “And you’ve never misplaced it before have you?” 

…Alright, maybe once or twice. But that didn’t count! When it came to it Anakin was a competent young man. 

So Anakin remained silent, instead averting his gaze, cheeks burning red, mouth pressed into a line. 

“Just as I thought. You know young one, it won’t hurt to broaden your skills.”

“I’d have the Force anyway.” Half muttered beneath his breath. Not really having meant to say it out loud. 

“And the Force is not a weapon.” A stern correction.  

When he looked up again all he could see was his Master’s form, holding himself straight and precise. Those ideas came flooding back. Obi-Wan on him like that, in nothing but barely modest underwear. Silently hoping that Obi-Wan did in fact wear them. Picturing just how his Master would stroke his cock, straining against the transparent fabric. Huffing and sighing as he did. 

Maybe Anakin could sit up, lick his Master’s throat as it happened, map his body with attentive palms. Find all the places which made the man shiver and moan. All the while his Master desperately fisting his cock. Oh he bet Obi-Wan could look so beautiful if he tried, especially decorated with his perverted fetish. 

If Anakin wasn’t careful he would get hard. Not ideal in such a compromised position, though able to feel that pool of warmth in his stomach, intensifying the further it bled into his groin. Unable to help that insatiable curiosity. How often did Obi-Wan masturbate? And how often with lingerie?

It did not help the blush. 

But Obi-Wan was quick to pry himself off after that, thank Force. Stumbling to his feet, extending an arm down to aid Anakin up. Gentlemanly. “Let’s work on it some more, you’ll be up to scratch in no time.” 

Usually that was when Anakin would say something, a sarcastic quip about Obi-Wan being an old man and damaging his back. Distracting from the fact he had just lost their spar. Though there was something better to say. Far better. 

Accepting the gesture he got hoisted up, though before letting go of that thick leathered palm Anakin could not help himself. “Does wearing panties feel good Master?” A feigned sense of innocence to the question, like he had asked something honest. Revelling in how his Master’s face dropped. 

“Anakin! That is hardly appropriate.”

“What?” Pretending not to understand the invasive nature. “Was only a question.”

An act Obi-Wan saw straight through. “You are not funny.” 

“Does it allow improved movement for your legs?” Mischief crept into his tone, watching the man fluster. Oh it was good.

“We agreed you’d forget about that.” Hissed. 

“I don’t quite remember saying that Master.” 

“You’re not being funny, stooping to humiliation is low, even you know that.” 

“I’m just asking, am I not allowed to ask?” 

Noting as Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared, a vein popped on his temple. Yet the man controlled himself professionally. 

“So do you wear them or-”

“Anakin!” Well past anger. “I will not tell you again.” 

Okay, maybe it was time to get back to training.

Politics, history, geography. All compact in an endless stretch of shelves. It was boring, that’s what it was, like reading the same thing over and over. And what made it worse was right then Anakin was on his own, Obi-Wan having left to something or another - he hadn’t been listening.

At least when Obi-Wan was by his side he was given a reason to study, commended for his good work ethic, asking all the right questions, knuckling down. But without him it was pointless. Never had Anakin felt quite so bored when sat in the archives. 

The charts blinked forgotten before him, something on the screen which Anakin really couldn’t have cared less about. Instead his eyes fell unfocused on some unfixed point beyond. Really it was rather insulting being asked to revise what he already knew, wasn’t like he would forget! That information had been drilled into him more than enough times. All it was, was tedious repetition. 

Though Anakin always did live inside his head, and right then was no different. 

If he thought hard enough he could remember how Obi-Wan had been firmly planted over him that morning - not that it was uncommon when sparring, but it undeniably had felt different with that new titillating information rolling around the floor of his skull. Already having popped more than one erection thinking about it since. Thank Force for the desk where he sat. 

Pictures painted in his mind, Obi-Wan masturbating, allowing himself some indulgence as he sat upon Anakin. Would he be bossy in bed as well? Or pliant if Anakin took charge? And despite maybe not fully understanding the appeal - why Obi-Wan had panties in the first place - the idea wound Anakin up no less. All the emotions complex and tangled together. 

Was there any information in the archives on why? The history of why Obi-Wan wore women’s underwear. Anakin supposed not. And if there was information on why people enjoyed what they did, Anakin wouldn’t have been caught dead looking for it. All he had was the fabricated sensations existing within the seclusion of his head. 

It would have been a lie if Anakin had said his own hand did not stray. It wasn’t his fault the archives were boring! Wasn’t like he took himself out or anything either, just sat there caressing his shaft beneath that desk. It made revision all the more interesting regardless. On occasion taking to biting his lower lip, stifle any noise which threatened to disrupt the tranquility of the room. Kriff he could get so hard when thinking about it. Hoping no one caught on to the suspicious placement of his dominant hand and the glassy look to his eyes. 

He did that on and off for hours.

In the end it was a groan from his stomach which disturbed the peace, dragging Anakin’s conscience back to his body. A few bothered looks cast his way. But it couldn’t be helped! Turned out missing a meal had been a mistake, that apple and lunch having been far from generous enough. And besides it was almost dinner, something which was much anticipated. 

And as if on cue the man appeared behind, practically having materialised from the walls.

“I see studying is going well.” The statement dry. 

For a moment Anakin’s soul left his body. “Was just finishing up Master.” Logging out before standing, his erection having thankfully flagged.

Though there was no missing how Obi-Wan stood unimpressed. “Honestly, I expect you to get work done when I leave, you’re old enough to be left alone. What have you even done for the past two hours?” 

Ouch. Those words slithered beneath Anakin’s skin. He was more than capable! Perhaps more so when the task wasn’t a dull one. But he was a good student, both eager and willing. What Obi-Wan had said was insulting. 

“I did the reading.” Biting back the sourness to his tone. Quite badly at that. Clearly the lie wasn’t bought regardless. 

And of course Obi-Wan stood over him as Anakin tidied the desk. Returning everything to it’s rightful home. 

“That’s a good boy.” His Master so innocently praised, and Anakin’s mouth went dry. Thankfully facing away when it happened. Cock threatening to rise again. No. They were just words. Something which had been said to Anakin countless times, it shouldn’t have had that effect. 

Was Obi-Wan a good boy when he wore such ludicrous underwear? Would he praise Anakin for touching him? Because Anakin knew he could be a good boy in more ways than one.

Without looking up Anakin went to leave, ready to usher himself out those grandiose doors and get a generous helping of food in him. However there was no footfall behind, an absence quickly noticed. 

“Are you coming Master?” Craning over his shoulder to check. 

“Yes, I am right behind you.” 

Not much conversation was made after that, an unspoken awkwardness congealed between them. An elevator ride and some long corridors, and not a peep from either. Just silence, which should have been reflective if Anakin was mature enough. 

Though much to Anakin’s dismay his heart was pounding, wanting to hatch from his rib cage with blunt force. Not normally did he get that way, but something felt off. Attuned to the hostile emotion radiated from his Master. Flowing from Obi-Wan and at some point intertwining with Anakin’s ignorance, creating a monster. 

“We need to have a conversation.” Obi-Wan said as he came to Anakin’s side, though both men continued to stare straight on. 

“Of course Master.” Throat cleared. Sensing just how much Obi-Wan hated it as well, not quite veiling that dread as he ought to. 

“What you said earlier,” A brief pause, outwardly collecting himself. “Was unbecoming of a Jedi, and I do not appreciate you behaving the way in which you did.” Tiptoeing around the subject matter, not quite hitting the nail on the head. 

“I was only asking a question.” A futile attempt at defending himself, Anakin knew it. Neither one of them truly believed the protest. 

“Yes, and a humiliating one at that,” Blunt. “Look, what you found was private, it wasn’t meant for your eyes - anyone’s eyes for that matter,” And Anakin couldn’t help but beam a little at that sentiment. “And I’d much rather we left it at that. I understand you find it humorous and I suppose to a young man it is, but please understand this is personal.” 

From his peripheral Anakin could almost make out that familiar red hue, Obi-Wan was flustered. Oh how Anakin wished to drink in the sight. Wondering just how far it spread, would the blush compliment those panties? 

And it wasn’t entertainment he found in that either, no something much more primal. It wasn’t funny and it probably never really had been. 

“All I did was ask.” Doubling down. 

“What I do in my own individual time should not be a topic of discussion,” Taking to ignoring Anakin’s nescience. “Just as I don’t pry about what you do in yours.” 

And Anakin really couldn’t help himself. “Is that what you were doing when I was in the archives Master?” That arrogant grin contaminated his features. Though secretly basking in yet another fantasy about Obi-Wan huffing and humming. 

“No Anakin,” Clearly making the conscious effort not to fall for it. “I was in a meeting with the Council, an important one at that.” But the darkening colour gave him away. 

For a second Anakin let himself look, and the view was much prettier than he could have ever anticipated. How lucky he was to have Obi-Wan as a Master. 

Though something pushed free from Anakin’s lips. “Do they feel good when you wear them?” Inquiring once again, only that taunting hint to his question gone, replaced by something far more earnest. Out into the atmosphere before it could be stopped. 

Obi-Wan fell out of step, clearly having been caught off guard. Meanwhile Anakin found himself stewed in his own brutal honesty. Able to hear the open and closing of his Master’s mouth, scrambling for an answer. 

“It’s just something I enjoy,” Spoke like a man defeated. “This really isn’t something I should be discussing with you.” Though no real bite to the sentence. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Obi-Wan did his best not to shout, while stopping in his tracks. The refectory was fast approaching and the conversation was yet to end. “Because you are my Padawan, that’s why.” 

“But I’m also your friend.” 

“Maybe so, but I am your Master and I don’t think the Council would approve of such crossed boundaries, do you?” Monotonous in how he recited it.

The Council. Those same Jedi who so often got in Anakin’s way. Oh what would the Council think? Oh the Council wouldn’t approve. Oh the Council this, oh the Council that. It was an earache that’s what it was. 

“But I’m curious!” 

“Then go read a book Anakin, you’re a smart boy I’m sure you can figure it out.” 

He went to move past, half way through a side step when Anakin blocked him. “You always said I could ask you anything!” 

“Yes, about training, about teachings, about becoming a Jedi. Not about what I find erotic.” 

“So it’s sexual?” Revelling in the fact Obi-Wan let his guard down when provoked, little filter applied to heat of the moment outbursts. And right then Anakin admired how Obi-Wan squirmed. 

“This conversation is over.” Pulling the plug, barging past Anakin to where dinner resided. 

“It’s okay Master we all have desires!” Called after him, though Obi-Wan didn’t respond. 

To Anakin’s surprise he didn’t see Obi-Wan after that. Perhaps he had overstepped the line, gone too far. Dinner hadn’t tasted quite so good when sat on his own. 

What really put it into perspective however was when Anakin returned to their quarters. Empty. 

To begin with he thought maybe Obi-Wan had been held up, that happened, after all he had been in a meeting earlier. But then one hour turned to two, and two to three. No Obi-Wan. And to make matters worse his shields were up. 

But what was Anakin really to do? Wasn’t his fault Obi-Wan was so sensitive, if the roles were reversed Anakin would have told the man everything. Who cared? Though that excuse was barely water tight. Soon enough the doubt crept in. Obi-Wan was angry. 

For the most part Anakin spent his time pacing, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, practically wearing a path into the floor. Flicking between regret and entitlement. If only Obi-Wan hadn’t been so uptight, it was his issue not Anakin’s. But then what did it mean if he drove Obi-Wan away? Surely the man would not leave him, he was Anakin’s Master. No he wouldn’t have left, couldn’t have. Just like how the man didn’t have a girlfriend. He was stability to Anakin.

That same rage from earlier echoed in his veins. What had he done? Angry at his own blind persistence, angry at Obi-Wan’s modesty. Both coexisted. 
 
As the sun set the worse it got. Anakin didn’t bother to meditate, how could he!? No he went to bed, only then did he realise his own exhaustion. Emotional and physical. Maybe it wasn’t the safest place he knew but it would have to do, Obi-Wan’s floor was off limits. Though surely the man would come back before morning, he had to. After all Obi-Wan was a creature of habit. 

Anakin didn’t feel it when he drifted off. Engulfed by the waves of sleep, although still carrying all that anger and resentment. But even his dreams would not let him rest. 

A room, neither his nor his Master’s. In fact it wasn’t much of anything really. Details disoriented, out of focus. Was it a painting or a mirror? Like the world only existed within the confinements of those four walls. Nothing had come before it and nothing would come after, only right then. 

However what captured Anakin’s attention wasn’t that, no instead it was what was before him on the bed. The room funnelling his sight towards it. Obi-Wan naked and shamelessly against the headboard with his legs spread. 

Well almost naked. 

All he had was a pair of panties. Pink and transparent, even more so given the prominent wet patch around his tip, pushing against the fabric, the lace stretched in an obscene manner, leaving very little to Anakin’s overactive imagination. 

How Anakin wished he could do something, though instead there he was rooted to the spot. Transfixed on what was there. 

Obi-Wan palmed himself, their eyes locked as it happened. The man slightly disheveled in appearance, just how Anakin liked him, smiling slightly as it happened. Those thick muscular thighs protruding from such a delicate article of clothing. 

It was the same Obi-Wan who could disarm an enemy in a heartbeat, Obi-Wan who bested Anakin at sparring, Obi-Wan who was first and foremost a gentle kind soul. And there he was in the throes of pleasure, cock helplessly weeping, balls barely contained, body hair disappearing into the frills. 

A tuneful moan came from the man, Anakin eager to know how else he would sound. How loud his Master would whimper around his cock. Willing to bet credits that the man could sing. 

“What’s the matter?” A tenderness behind Obi-Wan’s sarcasm. 

“N-nothing Master.” 

“Then why stand there?” Palm still rubbing. “Why not come join me?” 

Just like that the curse was lifted, Anakin finding autonomy. Without much thinking he moved immediately, in a few short strides he was on the bed. 

“There we go, better don’t you think?” 

To which Anakin could just nod, wanting to look everywhere, feel everything. 

In an unspoken understanding Obi-Wan raised his arm, welcoming Anakin in against his side. An offer gladly accepted. Nestled in against the man so pleasantly. Though what it lacked was warmth, no real body heat, just the knowledge of knowing he was there against him. The only authenticity Anakin had was his own arousal, a growing pit in his stomach, the fattening of his own cock, lulled by it’s steady throb. Oh it was perfect. 

“Do you like it?” Anakin asked. And the answer he got wasn’t so standoffish. 

“Yes young one, I like it a lot.” Nurturing Anakin with those words. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“Very good.” So quick to respond. 

Before Anakin could think to ask something meaningful Obi-Wan’s fingers enclosed around his wrist, dragging his hand down between his legs. For a second Anakin’s touch hovered above just where it wanted to be. 

“You can if you’d like.” 

Yes, yes, yes. 

Immediately he planted his hand upon Obi-Wan’s clothed cock, noting how it twitched with acceptance. More generous than his own, a fact Anakin had discovered in changing rooms over the years. 

The blunt press of his fingers around his Master’s shaft, a perfect contrast to the soft and fragile pattern of lace. Just one strong movement and Obi-Wan’s cock would be freed, out in the open for them both to enjoy, underwear bunched to the side. But Anakin basked in it, for once not rushing. Loving how responsive Obi-Wan was to him. Only him. 

“Ah yes~” Hummed on a downwards stroke. “That’s a good boy Anakin.” 

Everything about it stirred Anakin’s own arousal, his own libido corrupting his brain. Thoughts muddled, cock begging. Precum weeping without any physical stimulation.

But right then what Anakin wanted wasn’t his own pleasure. With bravery he went to slip his finger beneath, tracing down that happy trail, fingertips plucked at the waistband. He wanted to go further, skin to skin contact. Needing to watch the slide of his own fist hidden beneath the underwear. Hear Obi-Wan’s pathetic sighs. 

Gradually he travelled down, landing upon a bed of thick uncontained pubes. Though just as he was about to get somewhere, find just what he sought, things began to fade. Senses dulling. Again frozen like he could go no further. 

Just what was Anakin doing again?

In an abrupt haze Anakin jolted awake. Body shocked to life in nothing but underwear. The room was dark, no indication of the time. 

His chest heaved, breaths uneven, a shaky hand threaded through his hair. After a couple of heavy blinks he peeked under the covers, though he was able to feel the confirmation for himself. A sticky mess between his thighs, a gift from his dream. And by the looks of things he hadn’t quite finished, still aching and longing. Uselessly sensitive. 

It wasn’t the first time Anakin had awoken like that, a natural bodily response. Though it was the dream itself which Anakin dwelled on. If he thought hard enough he could almost feel Obi-Wan’s stiff cock beneath his fingers. 

And what did Anakin do? He sat there with covers pooled around his waist, swimming in that rhythmic pulse of arousal, clinging to that fantasy. Not touching himself, denied, just allowing that carnality to build. 

How good would Obi-Wan’s cock look thrust up into the tunnel of Anakin’s fist? Complete with those perfect little noises Anakin needed to hear. 

If Anakin did decide to see to himself right then, rub one out ever so shamelessly, then it would be over. As if those lustful thoughts connected him to Obi-Wan somehow, needing to see the image of him in those panties again and again and again. His mind having provided what reality would not allow. 

Inevitably he began to leak some more, expanding the damp patch further. So pent up, so horny. But still no relief. Instead just there in his bed feeling all the physical sensation he could, revelling in the weight between his legs. Allowing that tension in his gut to wind, nothing but fuzzy and warm in his brain. 

Just how good would Obi-Wan look in those panties? Something so perverse for such a proper man. Pelvis contracting as he thought, causing his cock to jump, adding yet another hedonistic wave. 

Really Anakin’s mind was nothing but filth. That vivid imagination of his paid off. Knowing Obi-Wan would shudder when touched, Anakin just knew it. What if he wore that underwear when out and about? Aroused beneath those robes when in the temple, no one none the wiser. Because why would they? Obi-Wan was one of the most sensible Jedi around. 

A small whine escaped Anakin’s lips, not having noticed the way in which his hips subconsciously rocked, seeking friction. Only for his tip to be met with fabric, fat and tented in his boxers. More punishing than rewarding. 

Patience was never something Anakin mastered. A few more noises, whines, and whimpers, all for one man. 

There was no way he’d sleep again, not after that. Unable to bring himself to masturbate. That erection was the only physical reminder of that dream. The closest he would probably get to having Obi-Wan. Balls full and begging for some sort of release. 

But eventually there was clarity: Obi-Wan. Where was he? What time was it? Had he made it back? That arousal faded to panic. He had to know his Master was there, had not left him. 

So Anakin stood, quickly kicked into action. His cock fell further against it’s prison, though admittedly softening. No he couldn’t just sit around. 

As if it were hardwired into him Anakin found himself in the gravitational pull of Obi-Wan’s quarters. Telling himself he had to check on his Master. It was his duty. Moving without thinking. 

Once out into their shared living space Anakin’s heart sank, everything how he had left it. No. It didn’t mean anything. 

Less than gracefully Anakin found himself before that door. Maybe Obi-Wan came back and went straight to bed? That was within the realms of possibility right? Perhaps he hadn’t done his night time routine or got a glass of water. 

With little hesitation Anakin pushed that door open with no regard for waking the man, there were bigger priorities. 

Though instead of a half asleep complaint and a groggy lecture, there was nothing. Covers flat, no shape beneath them. Room cold and abandoned. 

Anakin punched on the overhead light. If Obi-Wan was hiding then he’d pay for making him worry. However Anakin’s fears were confirmed. Obi-Wan was gone. 

Momentarily it was like watching himself as an outsider, removed from his own body. Observing himself in that bedroom. Mind too exhausted to catch up, caught in a triad of horny, concern and anger. 

And then it all snowballed into one. 

Anakin padded across the room, the same route on repeat, not knowing what to do. Should he go look? Part of him hoping Obi-Wan had got into some bother, that would teach him for trying to leave. Though contrasted by a need to help his Master. Barely stopping himself from ripping those quarters apart. Instead it was just his heavy footfall, bare soles against a smooth floor. Attuned to the slightest hint of his Master’s signature. Only there was no such thing. 

No, he had to be tactical. What was he thinking? Anakin was tired wasn’t he? If he curled up on the ground, sound asleep for his Master’s return that would get him. Make Obi-Wan feel terrible for abandoning his Padawan. Because Obi-Wan had to return, he had to. All his things were in that bedroom, besides Obi-Wan never missed morning meditation. 

A flawless idea. No matter what time his Master got back Anakin would be peacefully curled next to the bed. Innocent. Because Anakin had done nothing wrong! It wasn’t fair for this to be taken out on him. 

It was decided. He turned off the light, back into darkness he went.

The spot where he usually lay was far less welcoming, right then it was just any other part of the decor. Anakin’s brow pulled in tight as he attempted to relax, an almost impossible task. It was the quiet he hated most, no deep breaths to serenade Anakin to safety.

Though Anakin didn’t exactly try to sleep, blood still pumping. Far too riled up for his own good. 

And then Anakin saw it. What started everything. Those panties still where they had landed. Apparently Obi-Wan hadn’t picked them up. After all Anakin never mentioned throwing them. 

However the sight was no where near as offensive, Anakin secure in the knowledge they were Obi-Wan’s, not some secret girlfriend’s. Just some private part of his Master’s life he had stumbled upon. Nothing more than underwear. Right?

But if that was the case why couldn’t Anakin tear his eyes away? They were Obi-Wan’s. And dirty at that, they had been in the laundry for a reason. His breath hitched as he wondered: had Obi-Wan used them that same night? Stroking his cock while Anakin lay awake in the next room over. Huffing and panting as he came over the lace, feeling wonderfully perverted as he did so. Such thinking only enticed Anakin further. 

It was as if they called out, beckoning Anakin in. Urging him to have a look no longer blinded by rage and misunderstandings. And who was Anakin to deny himself that? 

Crawling over, Anakin reached for them. Soft in the palm of his hand. Such gentle clothing for a gentle man. His thumb caressed them ever so slightly, draped over the rest of his fingers. No wonder Obi-Wan liked it, arguably it was one of the most comfortable materials Anakin had felt. Unable to help when his thoughts strayed to how it would be elsewhere, somewhere more intimate. 

That was a bad idea. Anakin knew it. Swallowing thick as he remembered Obi-Wan’s erection had most likely been pushed against that same fabric. 

As if he suddenly forgot where he was and what was happening, Anakin couldn’t help but sniff. Quick at first, then going back for a more generous one. All he could pick up was some musk. Still it was exciting enough. 

Though too fixated on how that material soothed him. 

He shouldn’t have. It was too much. Wasn’t right. Only Anakin never listened to inhibition. His own boxers right then just didn’t cut it, not really. Everything too elasticated and compact, holding him together. 

So Anakin slipped them off, discarding them. Stood next to Obi-Wan’s bed as naked as the day he was born. Though Anakin never was exactly shy, in fact he was proud. Hoping that one day Obi-Wan would admire him with something far more than fond admiration. 

But right then wasn’t for dwelling. Left leg then right leg, Anakin couldn’t help himself, careful not to damage anything. Part of him frightened they might rip. Then he pulled them up grazing his calves, stretching over his thighs. That sensation was better than expected, sharing an intrinsic part of himself with Obi-Wan. 

They got tighter as they came to his pelvis, the material in brief conflict with his pubic hair, the panties obviously didn’t contain it all, from what he could feel he splayed out at the edges. But that meant nothing, because almost immediately Anakin got hard. Not that it ever took much. Unable to resist the sensual cradling of his cock. 

Quickly he sat on the mattress, just peering down, wet lips parted, stomach inflating as his lungs expanded. 

From what he could see they framed his waist nicely, and even in the darkness he could tell the fabric became more transparent when stretched. The thin straps at the side complimented the curve of his hips, only to be contrasted by the cords of thigh muscles. Something so masculine sprouted from something so feminine. 

And in the centre of it all Anakin was drooling. Again. Tip weeping and weighted against the lace. Once Anakin’s hips bucked it felt far better than before. 

How he wished Obi-Wan had a full length mirror, wanting to stand and ogle himself. Maybe even jerk off, paw over the panties. Watch as the fabric moved. It was hot. 

Elation. Never had he thought he could be so aroused, swarmed with teenage hormones and more. But Anakin just lay back with a groan, he didn’t want to masturbate, not yet. Fighting his own impulse, fists balled at his side. If he did so then it’d be over. That would be it. When would he get another opportunity? Perhaps he could buy some of his own, but that was never going to be the same as wearing Obi-Wan’s was it?

But it was like everything inside him zapped to life, wherever Anakin’s fingers happened to brush it rippled through his being like a stone thrown in water. Igniting something beneath the skin. 

When fingers caressed his waist Anakin couldn’t hold back the whimper. Tracing the entrance to the underwear. The feeling alone was enough, eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. Oh it felt good. Just lying there exploring his own torso with the newfound arousal. Completely entranced by everything. 

Oblivious to the shuffle outside, to the presence he once looked out for.

Before Anakin could react the door swung open, assaulted by brightness. At first unable to get a look because his eyes had screwed shut in their defence. The overhead light really was far too harsh. 

“For Force sake Anakin, what are you…” Everything stood still. 

Upon instinct Anakin grabbed a pillow, covering himself immediately. Sithspit. 

They were locked in a stare. Obi-Wan gawking, hand still lingered over the switch while Anakin blushed. 

“What are you doing in my room?” Obi-Wan got out eventually, his question haunted by something more. 

Anakin didn’t dare move. “Was waiting for you to get back Master.” Attempting to sound normal as if he wasn’t essentially naked on that bed. 

Though he expected Obi-Wan to leave, politely dismiss himself, give Anakin time and privacy to dress and exit, never to be spoke of again. But Obi-Wan remained planted in the doorway, eyes wide, cheeks red, but he did not move. 

Never had Anakin expected to feel mortified, all he had ever wanted was Obi-Wan’s attention. And right then he finally had it. Perhaps maybe there was a hint of regret. Bitten off more than he could chew. 

That pillow against him felt good, no way was his erection flagging. If anything it strained further, trapped beneath the lace, the pressure of the pillow, the weight of that gaze. The embarrassment and humiliation mutated into something monstrously erotic. Because Anakin felt the power imbalance, there on his back scantily dressed while his Master stood there clothed, and all he could do was leak. 

“Well I’m back now.” Obi-Wan’s tone remained distant, somewhat professional. Fingers twitched by his side.

Anakin swallowed thick. Wasn’t like he could just get up, feeling rather hypocritical of his earlier behaviour if he were to parade around with an obvious boner. 

There was so much doubt plastered across Obi-Wan’s face. It didn’t take a genius to know morality waged a war inside him. Both men there in a stalemate. 

“Are you going to stay?” Anakin hadn’t intended to sound as fragile as he did, a boyishness to him. Not fully realising just what he had asked until it was too late. 

But he could see how Obi-Wan’s eyes urged to trace him, dipping for half a second before snapping back. How the man wet his lips before answering. 

If Obi-Wan ran that would be it. He would never view Anakin the same again, relationship ruined. No, Obi-Wan couldn’t walk away. A sinking stone in Anakin’s stomach, not knowing what would happen. 

Had he wanted to get caught? Deep down perhaps? On some screwed up psychological level?

Though no response came, in turn Obi-Wan stepped forwards, door closing behind. The pair of them truly alone together. Obi-Wan still wearing that trepidation. “I should go.” 

The word slipped far too easily. “Don’t.”

Still the man progressed no further. His eyeline remained modest. Meanwhile Anakin’s heart sat in his throat. All he could do was wait. Desperately hoping he could appeal to the attentive nurturing side of his Master. After all Anakin was just a Padawan, a Padawan who knew no better.

“What’s beneath the pillow?” And wasn’t that the million credit question. 

“Nothing.” A healthy element of fear to the excitement. Only exacerbating the confused cocktail of emotions further. But his heart thumped, that much Anakin knew. 

“Because last I checked I asked you to stop snooping.” That footfall, the one Anakin new like the back of his hand, boots against the ground, heel to toe, stopping not far from Anakin, a front row seat to the predicament. 

“Sorry Master.” Having partially forgotten how to speak. 

Was it wrong to still be aroused? Anakin couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Why don’t you show me?” 

What?

“I don’t know if-” An attempt to buy more time, maybe in a few minutes Anakin wouldn’t have been pitifully hard. 

“Isn’t that why you’re in here?”  

Dumbly Anakin could only nod, not feeling as confident as he had just moments prior. But he did it, wanting to tell himself he knew when to obey though knowing he just wanted his Master to be pleased. 

With trembling hands he pried it off, the action hesitant and janky. Was it really happening? Nothing felt real. 

“Good boy,” The man quick to praise. And the way in which Anakin’s cock jumped didn’t go unnoticed either. “Stunning.” And briefly Anakin thought perhaps Obi-Wan would reach out and touch. But he didn’t. 

“Told you I was curious.” A feeble attempt at defending the choice. 

“And perhaps I should have listened.” No longer looking to Anakin’s face when speaking, transfixed. Just standing there, aware of how that underwear cupped Anakin perfectly. 

That wet patch only increased, cock uselessly pumping precum. No point in hiding it, the level of arousal bordered painful. But Anakin still refused to touch, enjoying being displayed. An exhibition only for his Master. 

“Suppose it’s safe to say you like it.” Only smiling a little, too absorbed in the scene before him. 

Hearing that heat rose to Anakin’s ears. Resisting the urge to lash out, pinned by Obi-Wan’s glare. 

Instead Anakin found himself opening his legs some more. Exhibiting himself further. Not exactly knowing what he wanted, just as long as it continued. 

That growing stain on the front spoke for Anakin instead. Precum drooling through the lace, material lightening. The distinct line of Anakin’s cock was definitely there, the underwear hid nothing. 

“What is it you like about it?” Obi-Wan then asked. 

“I-I don’t know.” Thinking wasn’t exactly a priority. 

“You don’t know?” Repeated back, amused by it. “You’ve been pestering me with that question all day, and you mean to tell me you don’t know?” 

“They feel nice.” Were the only words his brain could string together. 

“Shall I tell you what I like?” Growing bolder. 

Nothing could convey Anakin’s longing to know other than the frantic nod he gave. His stomach in knots as Obi-Wan sat on the bed. 

“I like the way they hug me, so very soft.” Spoken like they were sharing recipes of some sort. 

A small moan broke from Anakin’s chest upon hearing that. Envisioning Obi-Wan’s cock in the same predicament as his own.

“Always makes me finish rather quick when I put them on, feels naughty I suppose.” 

That had Anakin squirming. Wet cock angry and pleading. If he got any harder he was certain he’d rip through that delicate lace. 

“Can I?” Obi-Wan asked as a hand waited patiently above Anakin’s upper thigh.  

Though no words came out, leg moving on its own accord, an answer on his behalf as he brought it to meet the man’s palm. “Yes.” 

“That’s it,” Thumb soothing over it, fingertips teetering upon that sensitive inner skin. “It’s nice isn’t it?” The hand did not move, stagnant where it sat. Teasing. Cock more than stirring with interest. 

Again a nod. 

“You have to say something Anakin, it will go no further if you refuse to speak.” 

“Touch me.” Blurted out. 

A fond chuckle from Obi-Wan. “Think we are getting a little ahead of ourselves, don’t you?” 

“Fine,” A poor effort at concealing that restlessness. “I like that they’re yours, I like that you wear them. Happy now?” 

“Oh I’m more than happy,” The blunt press of his grip increased, pulling a small gasp from Anakin. “Is that why you came in here, to wear my panties?” 

“N-no,” Focus. “Was hoping you’d come back,” Wondering if that information would suffice. It did not. “Then I saw them on the floor, wanted to know what the fuss was about.” 

Obi-Wan just hummed. “I see,” That grip did not change, rounded over the swell of Anakin’s thigh. Like he was allowing himself no more than that. “You really are a sight Anakin.”

“Thank you Master.” Unable to rip his eyeline from that hand’s placement. That contact alone fuelling his desire.

“You have good legs for them, they suit you well.” Another compliment, Anakin really didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Bet you look better in them.” Far too bold for his juvenile exterior. 

Though Anakin loved it when Obi-Wan laughed, and right then was no different. “Oh I beg to differ, but thank you,” And just as Anakin was about to protest Obi-Wan cut him off. “They compliment your legs far better than mine.” As he spoke his fingers dipped ever so slightly, wandering across that tender flesh. 

“Please… please touch me.” Mewled. 

And Obi-Wan froze at that. Their eyes met each other’s once again. Something heavy on the man’s conscience. 

“It would help,” Anakin continued. “Could make me feel so good.” Coating himself in that deceptive helplessness. 

“Is that truly what you want?”

“Yes.” The easiest decision Anakin had ever made. 

“You want this, do you?” With ease his hand climbed higher and higher, until eventually he was smoothing over the firm line of Anakin’s shaft. 

“Ah~ yes.” Gasped. 

Instinctually Anakin met the touch, pushing himself further into it. Wanting to feel something solid. Meanwhile Obi-Wan palmed him, groping Anakin through that lace.

“Force, Anakin you’re so hard.” Said in raw disbelief. 

“Told you I liked it.” 

With that Obi-Wan squeezed, Anakin’s hips rotated beneath, head fuzzy. Perhaps slightly embarrassed by his moans. 

“Come on now,” Clearly having sensed it. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Obi-Wan always did sound so calm. Carrying on his exploration. The heat of his palm bled through the thin fabric.

Teeth sank into Anakin’s lower lip, that was when the pace increased. Obi-Wan far more self assured in what he was doing. 

“Besides, thought you wanted to feel good?”

“I do Master.” Strained with pleasure. He couldn’t come, not then, it was far too fast. They had barely started. Already a slight shake to his legs. 

But he continued to rock in time with each deft stroke, as if it were something choreographed. All Anakin could do was watch while hoping he wouldn’t go off. 

No doubt Obi-Wan’s fingers were wet with Anakin’s precum, helpless to his body’s reaction. Shuddering as Obi-Wan so generously touched. 

Nothing but increased frantic panting from Anakin. 

That pad of the man’s thumb rested against the tip. It had him crying out, no amount of lip biting could hold that back. 

“Shhhh,” Obi-Wan cooed. “That’s it, allow it,” Yet another pathetic noise caught in Anakin’s throat. “Feel them against you, take it in,” Thumb moving around and around and around. Desecrating those panties further. “Tell me.” Each word more nurturing than the last. 

“Everything’s so- so gentle.” Trying to not get overwhelmed. Anakin was strong. He could last. 

“And?” 

“They’re so close, right against me.” Speaking so freely, or as freely as he could with the distraction of that thumb. 

There was no hiding the rosy colour of Anakin’s cock peeking through the material. Those intricate frills maybe even highlighting it more. 

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself.” Obi-Wan then said. 

“I know.” Did he though? Wasn’t part of the thrill the taboo nature of it all? 

Then with immediate effect that hand left, an abrupt emptiness between Anakin’s thighs. Cold air where there had once been affection. 

“I have an idea,” Spoke before Anakin’s complaints. Obi-Wan sat back, more sturdily than he had been. “Come,” Patting his open lap. “Sit, let me have a proper look at you.”

In a blink of an eye Anakin was there, having clambered so eagerly into that space, bracketing his Master’s thighs with his own. Loving it when Obi-Wan held him, steadying those hips. 

Ever so slightly Anakin was pushed back, just enough to warrant appreciation, appearing a lot more lewd while his cock hung against the fabric. 

“This is perhaps more comfortable,” Obi-Wan smiled up. Reassurance he had flashed Anakin so many times. “At least for me anyway, joints aren’t the same as they use to be.” Rolling his wrists a little against the bare skin. 

 “I don’t know, to me it seems like you use your wrists a lot.” Grinning. 

“Anakin.” Though no heat in his tone. 

With nothing else to say an open palm grazed Anakin’s stomach, fanned out as it moved up his sternum. 

They did that for a while, Obi-Wan searching for nothing. Acquainting himself with each line and valley. Both men shrouded in a sense of intimacy. 

Then without so much a word Obi-Wan shifted, encouraging Anakin to straddle a singular thigh instead of both. Slotted perfectly between Anakin’s toned legs. 

It rose, a solid fixture provided, encouragement. Obi-Wan manoeuvred himself backwards and Anakin cooperated, shifting further up the mattress, accepting the invitation, leaning forwards, almost fully on top his Master. Ready to take just what he needed. 

Not once did Obi-Wan’s attention break from his face. Never had Anakin seen his master wear such an expression. 

“Go on.” Barely a whisper between them, but Anakin didn’t need more than that. Suddenly finding himself rutting down, humping Obi-Wan’s thigh. The sound he let out was pitiful and high, not exactly the assertive exterior Anakin had tried to curate. But it couldn’t be helped, finally getting that relief he so desperately craved, smearing that slick mess into Obi-Wan’s trousers. Tucking his head into the junction of the other man’s neck, not so much to hide but for the proximity. Needing it more than ever. 

And Force be damned, the man smelt good. Gluttonous as he breathed in that fresh scent. 

Another whine, and another, and another. Anakin could not stop, not that he minded, too out of it to care. All he could comprehend was it was Obi-Wan he so desperately humped against. 

Though that was when he felt it, Obi-Wan’s own cock not exactly hidden. However the man’s face did not show it, too busy in aiding Anakin through his own predicament. Generous Obi-Wan. Benevolent Obi-Wan. 

Just when Anakin thought it couldn’t get any better it did. Firm hands groped the meat of his ass, encouraging each and every thrust. 

“O-obi-Wan.” He just about mustered out. 

“Don’t think Anakin,” As if Anakin could think at all. “Let yourself feel, it’s better that way,” Kneading those ass cheeks as he spoke, that soft voice a contrast to the control. “You’re doing so well.” 

Right then it was like he was clay, morphed into something grand in his Master’s lap. 

“Please.” Not entirely knowing what he was begging for, just that he wanted. 

“Please what? This situation is entirely of your own making,” Lips grazed Anakin’s ear. So close. “Presenting yourself on my bed like that, almost like you wanted to get caught.” 

That pulled a shiver from him, a knock on effect straight through his body. 

“What is it you need darling boy?” One hand moved, coming up to brush Anakin’s braid behind his ear. An action which added to the sensitivity of everything. 

“I don’t know.” Exhaled in an unstable breath. 

“And how could I possibly give you what you do not know?” A light but honest chuckle. 

With half lidded eyes Anakin turned, lips parted ever so slightly. His gaze glassy and unfocused, but he went for it. Leaning in, bringing them both together in a kiss. 

It was pleasant to hear the shock from the other man, though only brief. Kissing back almost instantly. 

It was lazy and uncoordinated, Anakin not quite having the mental capacity for anything intense. Bathed in the rough texture of that beard against his jaw, moaning against his Master’s mouth, Obi-Wan taking his plush lower lip between his own, sucking, licking, nipping. Each and every tug and caress better than the last. 

All the while Anakin’s hips still sought that hedonistic thrill. That drive in him for more never truly disbanded. 

But that went on, deepening in a natural progression of things. Obi-Wan’s tongue teased him so gently. Anakin couldn’t be mad, chasing after that sensuality. His arms looped around his Master’s neck. Don’t let go. Never let go. Obi-Wan would never leave. 

Eventually they pulled away, both breathless and lost to time. Crows feet crinkled at the edges of those eyes peering back. 

“There you go.” More resistance applied against his crotch. Poor Anakin’s eyelashes fluttered shut at that, still uselessly leaking against his Master. 

“Please I need more.” Anakin babbled. Fraying at the edges, unravelled. 

Though apparently the man knew what he meant, no longer as teasing. Compassionate in his decision. Their positions flipped, Obi-Wan rolling them, careful to protect Anakin’s head. It felt right having his Master’s weight over him like that. Only it didn't last long, soon enough Obi-Wan prowled downwards, settling himself between those thighs. Staring at the ruined panties like a man starved. 

“Perhaps I have a suggestion.” Sounding far too formal for the implication. It shouldn’t have been so hot.  

Anakin’s stomach twisted into a knot while Obi-Wan nestled there so comfortably, appearing rather at home.

That appreciation however fizzled when one open mouthed kiss was placed over Anakin’s clothed shaft, twitching in excitement as it happened. Flexing those pelvis muscles to circulate that pleasure. 

But it was just that, one kiss. It was enough to have Anakin white knuckling sheets. Head thrown back with a bared throat. 

“Oh my Padawan, you have so much to learn.”

Too inebriated with desire to reply, all Anakin could do was lift his hips. More. What he needed was more. 

“Your words Anakin,” Obi-Wan went on. “I believe I did teach you to use them.” That grin woven through his voice. 

“You’re such a bastard.” Anakin couldn’t help but laugh. All in good faith.

“Language, speaking like that won’t get you what you desire.” Though the man immediately went against his own teachings, leaning forwards and mouthing more thoroughly. Tracing the outline of Anakin’s neglected cock over the lace, tongue curling when it got to the tip. The man certainly didn’t hold back. Beard scratching through the panties. He loved it. 

And if each whimper and gasp were anything to go by, Anakin was more than satisfied. Eventually propping himself on elbows to glance down. 

Apparently that only inspired Obi-Wan further. A path carved by lips, base to tip, presumably tasting all that precum as he went. Following that thick vein along the underside. Evidently Obi-Wan enjoyed sucking cock. 

It was that attentive tongue which almost got him, had Anakin staring to the ceiling, counting to ten and back, anything to stave off that impending orgasm. 

Just when he thought he was safe, Obi-Wan made it worse, one hand snaking it’s way under and cupping his balls. Happily fondling them as his mouth worked. 

“Ah~ wait- M-Master!” 

“What is it dear?” An almost convincing act if it weren’t for that darkened gaze. 

“I don’t want to…” Shallow breaths. Head not all there. Grounding himself, three, two, one. “Not yet.” 

“You won’t disappoint me if that’s what troubles you.” 

“It’s not that.” Line of sight still cast above, unable to risk looking down. Everything inside him wound tight just waiting to snap. 

“Then what is it?” 

“I want more, more than this,” There it was. “Everything- I want everything.” Heaved out.  

“You want me to make love to you?” Force, Obi-Wan always had such a proper way of saying everything didn’t he? Couldn’t just be crass like everyone else. Too much of a gentleman even in bed.

Anakin nodded, before swiftly reminding himself of verbal communication. “Yes.” Punctuated with the bob of his throat. Not finding it within him to make fun of his Master’s word choice.

“Oh, well I’m sure you can handle a little bit more fun until then, don’t you think?” Gently embracing those balls with his palm. “I’ll be careful.” Ducking back in. 

The attention far slower and more precise than before. Cautious as he lapped at Anakin’s tip, that barrier between mouth and skin did little. The flat of Obi-Wan’s tongue vigilant of the situation. 

“So pretty,” Obi-Wan said, lips still pressed into Anakin’s groin. “These suit you, I mean it,” Only slightly more audible. “Look so good in my panties.” 

“All for you Master.” Replied with a meek waver. Ravaged by pleasure, and not confident enough in the little self discipline he possessed. 

However that was when he heard it, a groan, vibrating against his shaft. Sparks of pride flew through him knowing Obi-Wan was just as turned on as him. 

In a split second decision Anakin reached down, fingers thatched through hair, brushing stray strands from the man’s face. Rounding his way to the crown of Obi-Wan’s head. And he did just that, held his Master in place, shoving him further in. If Obi-Wan wanted to continue then fine, Anakin would make his life just as difficult. 

That action pulled all sorts of lewd noises from the man, a beautiful chorus of indulgence. It had Anakin thrusting against his face, rutting his cock up and down. Obi-Wan pursuing it with his tongue. 

But in the end it was all he could take, any more and it would be over. So Anakin did what was right and pried Obi-Wan off. Far too close to the edge for his own liking, and not wanting it to end before he felt his Master’s cock inside him. 

Obi-Wan understood, doing little to mask that satisfaction he held. Without saying a word he contorted himself over to the bedside table, the bottle of lube bounced on the mattress where it was tossed. 

It was going to happen. The very thing Anakin had fantasised about, having lost track of the amount of times he had rubbed one out to the mental picture. And there it was, inches away from becoming a reality. 

“What experience do you have?” Obi-wan asked, settling back between those legs. 

Unfortunately that was where Anakin fell short. “Myself.” Refusing to let any insecurity show. 

“Ah, I see.”

“I’ve done some things! Fooled around,” That need to justify himself was conjured from nothing. “Just haven’t…” Did he really have to say it? 

“Relax Padawan,” Comforting Anakin with a touch to the knee. “If you don’t then you’re about to make my job rather difficult.” 

Then Obi-Wan worked his way back, grazing Anakin’s thigh as he went higher and higher, unafraid to touch him between his legs. It was less controlled than previously, Anakin’s cock swallowed by that hand. Just a couple of light rubs and that was it. 

Quite abruptly Anakin found himself spreading his legs, pelvis tilted. More, more, more. Please, please, please. Message loud and clear. 

The whole time Obi-Wan sat staring, fixated. Anakin could only presume it was the obscene bulge beneath those panties. But then the man’s demeanour changed, and Anakin found himself giving out a little yelp when his Master’s biceps flexed, the sound of a firm tear killed the silent contemplation. 

It was the underwear, Anakin could feel the cool air against his ass. Not quite having fully registered just what had happened. 

Though that didn’t mean Obi-Wan held back, immediately groping Anakin’s ass, no longer a barrier between them. Skin to skin. One of the best feelings there was. 

With a muddled mind Anakin assessed the damage, a clean rip, balls exposed. Cock still very much trapped. Panties completely destroyed. Anakin couldn’t help but pout slightly. 

“Think that’s my only pair?” Reading Anakin so casually. “There’s more in the back of that top drawer.” Taking time to point it out. 

That made him feel a little better. “And you say I have no patience?” 

“Thought it would be easier, and besides I’d rather you keep them on.” Mindlessly reaching for that bottle, as if he hadn’t just said something which turned Anakin on like crazy. 

After that there was the slick sound of lube, a generous coating applied to Obi-Wan’s fingers. Practically glistening in the light. 

“I’ll start slowly,” Great, it was a debrief. Of course it was. “One at a time, and you’ll tell me if it hurts, okay?” 

“Yes Master.” Replied with little thought. The sooner it was over the sooner they cut to it. Anakin could barely hold on. 

“I mean it Anakin, if you want me to stop at any point you tell me.” 

“Yes, yes I will.” 

“Very good.” And Obi-Wan got to it, index finger first, sinking down until it got to his hole. Anakin couldn’t help but moan. 

Neither spoke as Obi-Wan circled, provoking that ring of muscle. Not quite going in, gliding over, rubbing, circling, coating it with lube. Though If Anakin had to guess he’d have said the man just liked seeing him writhe. 

“It’s important you’re prepared.” A sultry element to his voice. Bastard. 

“Obi-Wan, if you don’t- if you don’t-” Not quite having the language. 

“Then you’ll what dear?” Mocking. 

A groan of frustration. Anakin’s body had been taunted and denied for far too long. “Just put it in me.” 

“And where are those manners I taught you?” Around and around that finger went, getting very confident with what it was doing. Very well acquainted with Anakin’s rim. 

“Please! Please just put it in.” Practically spat. 

“There we go.” And Obi-Wan was a man of his word, as the final syllable left him he breached that muscle, entering Anakin with a controlled pace. Pushing past the initial resistance, quick to be met with the greed of inside, practically sucking him upwards. 

All Anakin could do was gasp. Attempt to push himself down, wanting everything Obi-Wan had to offer, far too ahead of himself for where he was at. Though he had to adjust, Obi-Wan certainly wasn’t moving, granting Anakin the space and time to get use to it. 

“You’re doing so well.” The man just about purred, his own arousal slipping through those cracks. 

Just one finger, Obi-Wan’s finger Anakin so pleasantly stretched around. Already applying pressure to many tender areas. Eating up all the praise his Master was willing to give. 

“Can I move?” Obi-Wan always so polite. 

“Uh-huh.” All thoughts had left, accompanied by Anakin’s signature nod. 

And there it was, Obi-Wan so mindful as he partially pulled out, only to push back in, breach those muscles once again, give Anakin that same sense of fullness. 

Each time Anakin felt himself loosen, both physically and mentally. It was nothing extreme, he could handle it. If anything it complimented the throb of his cock just fine. Almost like a massage. A couple of content groans here and there, secure in the knowledge he was safe. Obi-Wan would always look after him. 

“I’ll add another, okay?” 

Once more Anakin could not agree fast enough. Willing to take everything he could get. 

It slid in with the other, Anakin’s body opening to it. So much better than just one. He expected pretty much the same, a leisurely pace, however Obi-Wan had something else in store. 

Those fingers crooked. Searching. And Anakin had a hunch just what for. 

Obi-Wan was quick to strike gold. Brushing Anakin’s prostate with featherlight precision. Investigative if anything, assessing Anakin’s reaction. Which was a lot. 

Everything inside and out was on high alert, already in a bizarre state of overstimulation. Far too animated, far too alive. Anakin felt it, that was for sure. The moan he gave was free from restriction, if Anakin had more activity in his head maybe he’d have worried about how sound travelled through walls. 

But it just felt too good. That coercive and hedonistic side to him needed it again. 

Was Obi-Wan laughing? The sound was affectionate anyway. Like he was doting on Anakin’s state of helplessness. Attention. 

So naturally it happened again. Bullying that area, Anakin enduring the deluge of gratification. Obi-Wan would not let that spot go. Appreciating how Anakin’s body went from slack to tense depending on the pressure. Anakin could feel that stare on him, riddling his form. And he was more than happy to be watched. 

At some point a third finger was applied. Yes. Obi-Wan three digits deep and Anakin had never been better. Clenching around them as they massaged his prostate so beautifully. It had the air knocked from his lungs. 

“M’close.” Anakin just about mumbled. Going against everything telling him to carry on, to come on those fingers. Maybe he’d have been willing to if it wasn’t for the implication of more. 

They were mourned as they left, dazed from the rush of endorphins and stimulation. Still, Anakin looked, how could he not? And what he found did not disappoint. Obi-Wan undressing. Shedding each layer like it was nothing. Not particularly seductive, but each slither of skin Anakin bore witness too was more exciting than the last. 

It was impossible not to notice, the thick outline of that cock had practically took on a life of it’s own. So obvious in fact Anakin couldn’t rip his sights away. Everything about it was intoxicating, and he hadn’t even seen it yet. 

But the rest of Obi-Wan’s body was perfect. As close to perfect as anything could get. A layer of fat spread across muscle, stepping stones of moles down his torso, not to mention the body hair - far more defined than anything Anakin had, and his skin bearing the marks of a life lived. 

Eventually Obi-Wan got down to underwear, the tent blatantly obvious. Right then Anakin understood a fraction of the passion which had possessed Obi-Wan earlier. 

“You’re staring.” So matter of fact. 

“Sorry Master.” Neither diverting anything nor said with the slightest hint of remorse. 

“Some say it’s rude to stare you know?” Thumbs hooked into the waistband. 

“Then maybe someone should have told you that earlier when you walked in on me.” Got him. 

“That was different, you were on my bed,” Obi-Wan so graciously replied. “It wasn’t exactly expected.” 

However Anakin’s response did not matter because soon afterwards the man was fully naked. It had been worth the wait. If he had thought Obi-Wan was well endowed in changing rooms, it had nothing on how he looked erect. By far one of the prettiest cocks Anakin had bore witness to. Not that he had seen many. 

First of all it was wet, clearly just as aroused. Shaft glazed with precum. It had Anakin wanting to taste it so so bad. The tip peaked from foreskin, a much less furious colour than Anakin’s. Even Obi-Wan’s cock had manners. And then the shaft disappeared into well groomed curls. What more could be asked for? 

Continuing despite the intrusion of Anakin’s gaze, Obi-Wan applied lube. Squirted into his palm and slicked with dutiful strokes. Though he could barely stifle it when he sighed, Anakin wasn’t the only one pent up so it appeared. Only difference was Obi-Wan was far more tasteful about it. 

Right then reality hit: that was going inside him. It wasn’t nerves. Anakin didn’t feel nervous. Incapable of it. A headstrong young man that’s what he was. But it was long with some girth to it, intimidating to some probably. 

“Are you ready?” Obi-Wan broke Anakin out of that trance. 

“You tell me.” Sprawling himself further as he spoke, those tattered panties barely concealed anything by that point, like a fragile blanket over his erection. 

“I’m being serious Anakin.” 

It was impossible not to roll his eyes. Why wouldn’t Obi-Wan just do it? Always so many rules. “Yeah, think I’ll go insane if you don’t.” If it wasn’t for the slight voice crack he’d have been more assertive. 

Without any hesitation Obi-Wan prodded his hole, cock head lingered at the entrance. One small breathy sigh. So close. 

“Oh~ there we go.” Obi-Wan just about moaned as he went for it, welcomed by the slackened rim. Though apparently still tight enough for his liking. Anakin wished he could soak in the sight, listen to how his Master tried to maintain composure. But he couldn’t, too absorbed in his own bodily needs and sensations. 

In tandem they groaned. Everything so much better than before, Obi-Wan sliding into him with caution. Meanwhile all Anakin could do was stretch around and accommodate that cock. Watch emotion cross his Master’s face.

Eventually Obi-Wan stilled, bottomed out. Body betraying just how badly he needed it, trembling against Anakin’s spread legs. Obi-Wan’s face said nothing. Instead he leant in, a small kiss placed upon Anakin’s forehead. “You’re doing well.” The man murmured as he pulled back. 

In an ideal world Anakin could have had a sharp come back, a deflection from the vulnerability of it all. But he couldn’t. If his mouth opened he had no control over what came out. 

As his muscles contracted he felt it, each time better than the last. Having taken Obi-Wan so perfectly. 

“Going to move, okay?” A whisper just for Anakin. 

“Mhm.” Still refusing to speak. 

When Obi-Wan pulled out Anakin’s lips parted, what ever noise he urged to make lodged in his throat. Too many things at once were happening and he loved it. 

“So good,” Obi-Wan sighed. And then he went back in, and that was when Anakin lost it. All of it was far beyond control. “That’s it,” Continued as he thrust back inside, about as composed as he could be. “So pretty Anakin, always so pretty.” There was something filthy about the way Obi-Wan said his name. 

All the while Anakin felt so full, Obi-Wan stuffed inside, the slow drag of that man’s hips. In and out, in and out. If Anakin had the brain function he’d have demanded - begged - for more. But all he could do was lie there and take it. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” Obi-Wan’s words funnelled directly into his ear. “My pretty little Padawan.” Panting. 

And suddenly Obi-Wan’s tether snapped, pace increased, hips smacking against Anakin with intention. 

“I’ll wear them under my clothes Master, only you’ll know I have - ah - have them on.” Finding his words like the brave boy he was. 

Obi-Wan’s face ducked against Anakin’s shoulder in a strung out whimper. Never had Anakin thought his Master could make such a sound. 

The rhythm was perfect, Anakin’s prostate thoroughly seen too. Both men split between each other and their own worlds. Too lost for words. Nothing but the carnality of the moment. Bed squeaking with the appetite of devotion. 

When had Anakin began to cry? Only with a couple of blinks had he noticed, highlighting the planes of his face. No sobbing, just tears with glassy and red rimmed eyes. There was nothing to say other than it all just felt right. 

As if to check, Obi-Wan reeled back from where he had hid, staring down to Anakin’s wet and stained face, grinding to a halt, a question on his lips. But before he could ask, Anakin met that mouth with his own, kissing Obi-Wan once more, arms locking his Master in place. 

“Don’t stop,” The plea soaked in desperation. “Please don’t stop.” Not quite kissing, not quite speaking. And how great it felt when Obi-Wan carried on, the intensity all the same. 

Their mouths remained connected though it was quick to dissolve into accumulated panting and whines. Who made what noise was far beyond either at that stage. 

But after so long, Anakin couldn’t fight it. The telltale signs of an orgasm ambushed him, unable to hold on even if he wanted to. 

“Master- I’m- I’m-” Clambering through that brain fog to communicate. 

“Shhh, I know, I know,” His soothing voice. “Let go, go on.” 

How could Anakin possibly deny himself that? 

That permission was the swift beginning of the end. No need to touch himself, cock rubbing against those loose panties. Not much else needed. His balls tightened first, drawing up. And then came the contractions, spurting rope after rope, uselessly seeping through the lace. 

He could only presume Obi-Wan was talking him through it, but truth be told Anakin could barely focus. Between pumping out come and the searing pleasure Anakin couldn’t think. Never had he been made to feel that way. Oblivious to how each tear drop chased the next, caught in eyelashes, flowing into his mouth. 

And then there against the mattress, boneless with the life knocked out of him. For once in Anakin’s life he knew harmony. 

However it wasn’t over. As his thoughts trickled back, Anakin realised that Obi-Wan’s pace had slowed, though still going. A sheen of sweat to his brow, hair out of place. 

Perhaps Anakin should have said something more elegant. But he didn’t. “Breed me.” 

If the way Obi-Wan’s rhythm spluttered was anything to go by, he hadn’t expected that. Anakin hadn’t even opened his eyes though he knew the man’s face was priceless. 

“A-Anakin~”

“Breed me Master,” It was like talking in a dream. “You know you want to.” 

That was all it took. Anakin couldn’t help but feel powerful. Just one sentence and Obi-Wan was coming. Using Anakin’s body for the soul purpose of self gratification. That felt like a win. Anakin gave into the temptation, eye cracked open. Obi-Wan’s jaw slackened, nose scrunched, appearance disheveled. Indulgence looked good on the man. 

It was strange, feeling his Master’s come inside. If Anakin hadn’t just finished that surely would have done it. 

After that Obi-Wan slumped on top of him, clearly having depleted his own energy in the process. The comforting weight of his naked form over Anakin’s. Time might as well have stopped. 

Because it had been far more than sex hadn’t it? Something having strengthened in their bond. And most of all Anakin understood the appeal of those lace panties. 

Though when his Master came to, he pried himself up. Tears wiped from Anakin’s eyes, that was the first thing to happen. Thumbs swiping them away. Silence. Cared for.

“Suppose we should get you cleaned up.” That forced composure was back, even if it was a poor job. 

“Probably.” That was the furthest thing from Anakin’s mind. 

Both men disheveled. Anakin’s limbs pliant, Obi-Wan’s hair a mess. Neither wanting to spoil the moment, ignore the line which they had more than just crossed far too willingly. 

A hiss escaped while Obi-Wan pulled out, the muscles having relaxed enough to offer that at least. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, not getting up. If Anakin wasn’t mistaken there was a dash of doubt in his name. “Stay,” The request so abrupt, Anakin didn’t quite have time to process it. “In my bed I mean, don’t sleep on the floor.” 

Approved. Nourished. Accepted. 

Lazily lifting his pelvis Anakin flung the panties to the ground. Might as well get comfortable. “If you insist,” Grinning wide. “Master.”