Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Senator Padmé. Master Anakin," the protocol droid greeted them as they boarded. "You have returned. Didn't I say so, Artoo?"

Anakin watched the droids darkly before turning to Padmé to hand her Luke. Still not addressing the droids, he brushed past them. R2D2 followed Anakin to the cockpit. Obviously, Anakin was familiar with the ship's layout. Had he often traveled with Padmé's personal craft?

Obi-Wan wished he wore his cloak so he could wrap himself in its folds. Instead, he tugged on his tabard, smoothing over the dark burn marks with one hand.

"Did you agree on a destination?" he asked Padmé, casting a furtive glance at the hallway Anakin had disappeared into.

Padmé's gaze dropped to Luke in her arms. Luke babbled, producing unintelligible sounds.

"We have," she said.

Obi-Wan glanced at her, meeting a neutral mask. "And what was your decision?" he asked when Padmé didn't volunteer more information.

Padmé frowned, her gaze darting away, avoiding his. In Obi-Wan's arms, Leia fussed and grumbled, possibly sensing Obi-Wan had put her mother ill at ease. With a fake smile, one that was almost convincing, Padmé stepped closer to collect Leia. The urge to step back and cradle Leia closer crashed into him with such violence that it took him by surprise. Briefly, he acted on the impulse, his body turning a hair. Then, realization followed hot on the impulse's heels. Feeling his cheeks heat with shame, very aware that his beard would not hide the flush, he helped Leia settle in Padmé's other arm.

Padmé's expression was inscrutable as she studied him, picking him apart with the skill of a seasoned politician.

"I will join Anakin in the cockpit," she announced after a long moment of dreadful silence, and Obi-Wan knew better than to assume she had invited him. Obi-Wan could read between the lines.

"Very well," he said, inclining his head. The protocol droid waddled after her, his shrill voice loud in the hallway.

"Oh, Senator Padmé. I'm so relieved you are back. I worried you would not return and leave me with that vicious astromech droid."

The ramp shut automatically behind him while Obi-Wan still hesitated.

Ah, he had truly gone and done it. Now, it was too late to slip from the ship. It appeared he would join the little family on their domestic adventures. He would be kept at a safe distance, naturally, barred from the cockpit where the happy couple had settled together.

The engines rumbled, coughing twice before running smoothly, filling the ship with white noise. Obi-Wan grabbed the wall to brace himself as the ship lifted off.

What was he supposed to do now?

His glance landed on the tiny cargo hold he had hidden in on the way to Mustafar. It had only been a few days at most, but a lifetime separated him from that Obi-Wan.

His fingers trembled as he placed a hand on the entrance to the cargo hold. Thickly, he swallowed. His eyes and throat were so dry they prickled, and the stale recycled air blasting from the ventilation didn't help matters. If he spoke, which he wouldn't since he was alone, his voice would croak.

It would break.

He wasn't privy to the moment of peace in the cockpit, to the familiarity. They would shut him out. Obi-Wan had believed that he had that with Anakin, but Padmé got to spend stolen moments with him instead.

He wished he weren't so isolated. He wished he weren't alone. Yet, his family was already gone. Killed by the one person whose company he craved. The only other one who had survived. Obi-Wan missed his favorite person in the world -- the traitor, the one who had killed his family -- so fiercely. Obi-Wan loved him. He always would.

If this had been a test from the universe -- it wasn't; it was only senseless violence that had destroyed everything -- then Obi-Wan had failed. There was no lesson here. Only loss.

Slowly, he wandered deeper into the ship, putting more distance between himself and the cockpit. His slinking bore an undeniable resemblance to a sneaking womp rat. In another universe, Obi-Wan would have found humor in the comparison. Now, it was too close to the truth. Running a hand through his hair, any semblance of order long gone, he shook his head. His hair flopped back over his forehead as his hand dropped to his side.

His hair was in disarray, his clothes were mottled with burn marks from the spitting lava lakes, and he stank of stale sweat. Well, the comparison to a womp rat was rather apt.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan couldn't find any humor in the situation.

Stars. He scurried like vermin. How far had he fallen?

Obi-Wan lowered onto a couch in the main space, feeling out of order -- out of place, out of his mind. There was no one to contact for updates. Obi-Wan was alone. He always would be.

The knowledge was a pebble in his heart, which he couldn't help worrying, rubbing the pad of his thumb over its smooth surface. He didn't think it would turn into a pearl. More likely, he would ground himself into sand. As they jumped to hyperspace, with Obi-Wan none the wiser where they would head, a ripple traveled through the ship.

Unnerved, Obi-Wan raked his hand through his hair, trying to establish some order but likely only mussing the strands up further.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin called out.

Obi-Wan lifted his gaze from his knees, surprised to find Anakin on the threshold to the living space.

"Hello, there," he greeted Anakin with mild curiosity and some concern.

Anakin slunk into the room, each movement too measured. He was a coiled spring, an activated charge that could explode at any moment.

Obi-Wan followed Anakin with his gaze, keeping his features schooled into a semblance of neutrality. A storm brewed in the Force.

"Where are we headed?" Obi-Wan asked Anakin.

Anakin stopped in the middle of the room, looking down at him with yellow eyes.

"Naboo," Anakin responded morosely.

Obi-Wan's eyebrow quirked before he could control his disbelief. In hindsight, he supposed there was plenty of historical precedent for neither Anakin nor Padmé heeding his warnings.

"Despite the risks this carries?"

Anakin frowned.

"I understand that you and Padmé always planned to retire to Naboo. Don't misunderstand me. Once the galaxy is calmer, you can raise your children in the lake country. However, you can't right now, Anakin. Even if it's something you..."

Obi-Wan's voice trailed off.

Even if it's something you always wanted.

He picked at a scorched mark on his pants.

"What do you mean?" Anakin bit out. "What do you mean with always planned?"

Obi-Wan lifted his chin to meet Anakin's gaze.

"Padmé explained that you planned to raise your children on Naboo. If I understand correctly, you were preparing to leave? Perhaps after the war?"

Anakin staggered backward, shaking his head.

"I believe you were going to leave the Order," Obi-Wan finished softly, his voice hitching.

I believe you were going to leave me.

"I wasn't," Anakin said through gritted teeth. "I'm not leaving."

"It doesn't matter," Obi-Wan reminded Anakin. "The Jedi Order is no more."

Obi-Wan had recorded a message to keep the survivors from returning home. The Temple's beacon was forever altered in a warning. An admission of loss. The last thing a Jedi sent into the galaxy.

Keep hope.

How Obi-Wan wished he could put faith in his own words. How he wished that someone out there would find strength in them. However, he couldn't be sure anyone had heard the message. The Republic had fallen. Tangled in its existence, the Jedi Temple hadn't stood a chance.

Anakin paced the room, bleeding restless, manic energy in the Force.

"She had no right," he raved.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked with growing confusion.

Anakin turned toward him with his upper lip pulled back in a snarl.

"I'm not leaving."

"You're not a Jedi," Obi-Wan reminded him, too numb to feign his calm delivery. However, only a fool would interpret his demeanor as detached serenity. Certainly, Anakin wasn't a Jedi anymore. Neither was Obi-Wan, though. After all, Anakin had destroyed the Order. They were Force-sensitive. That was all.

"Because you get to decide that, Master?" Anakin asked, his voice dripping with poison.

Obi-Wan met Anakin's hostility without flinching.

"I believe you've seen to the destruction of the Jedi Order, Anakin. We-- No, I am the only one left," he reminded Anakin sternly. "Also, Anakin, I am not your Master."

"You are!"

Anakin rounded on him, all that uncontrolled fury aimed at him. Unimpressed by the spittle flying from Anakin's lips as he crowded Obi-Wan on the couch, Obi-Wan met Anakin's gaze calmly. Their knees knocked as Anakin stopped in front of him, arms crossed in front of his chest. He leaned over Obi-Wan, snarling like a rabid beast.

"Didn't you kneel for the Sith Lord?" Obi-Wan asked mildly. "Didn't you choose him as your Master?"

Anakin watched him with wide eyes, but he didn't deny anything.

【ＴＨＩＮＧＳ　ＹＯＵ　ＭＩＳＳＥＤ】

Surrounded by the corpses of your family, the last one standing, the only one left, you know you shouldn't mourn their killer.

Perhaps you mourn yourself. Because you watched him kneel for another man while you sank to your knees among the corpses he left in his wake.

That's your family.

You know you shouldn't. You've known too long. He abandoned your family, choosing someone else.

You know.

You know.

Oh, you know.

But it's just him and you. You're the only ones left. Without him, you're no one. Without him, you never existed. Without him, you'll never live again.

You love him.

But he... well, he doesn't love you.

"He isn't my Master," Anakin ground out after stewing for a long minute.

Obi-Wan hummed noncommittally.

"Master," Anakin said, enunciating each syllable with care. A wiser man wouldn't rise to the challenge. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan had nothing left to lose.

"Will you kneel for me, too, Anakin? Will you swear your fickle allegiance to me, sweetheart? Will you betray your new Master for your old one?"

He stood from the couch, uncaring that their chests brushed. Obi-Wan tipped his head back to meet Anakin's gaze. Anakin looked shocked, accidentally staggering a step backward. Apparently unprepared or already put off-balance, Anakin couldn't compensate in time, so his knee buckled under the weight. Anakin's expression had already blown wide open with shock before his lips shaped in a perfect 'o' of surprise. He couldn't hide his helplessness as he collapsed on his ass on the floor, his legs sprawled.

He blinked at Obi-Wan, who had suddenly regained the high ground. Obi-Wan stepped between Anakin's sprawled legs to cross the distance Anakin had put between them.

Jedi were merciful, but Anakin had made sure no Jedi remained.

He grabbed Anakin's chin to force eye contact. With his pupils blown, the gold in Anakin's eyes was barely visible. Anakin's expression creased into desperation, his lips parted as he sighed. Those long eyelashes fluttered as Anakin blinked dumbly.

He was devastatingly handsome.

"How can I be sure your loyalty won't wander again, Anakin?" Obi-Wan mused. "My Padawan is so fond of his little secrets and lies."

Anakin squeaked.

"Well?" Obi-Wan demanded.

"I-- I don't know," Anakin mumbled. The pressure on Obi-Wan's fingers told him Anakin tried to turn away. Obi-Wan didn't allow the escape, tightening his hold until Anakin was truly trapped.

Still, Anakin's gaze dropped, breaking their eye contact.

A shudder ran down Obi-Wan's spine, his fingers flexing around Anakin's chin. Unsettled by the tension, he yanked his hand away.

"I'm not your Master, Anakin. I would advise not addressing me as such. If you must go to Naboo, I can only urge caution. Use me if you must. Though I suspect my continued presence here means you already plan to do so."

"Master--"

"I'm not your Master, Anakin."

Obi-Wan took a large step back. Anakin scrambled on his knees, crossing the distance on them. On his next step back, Obi-Wan's calves hit the back of the couch. Again, Anakin crawled after him, not bothering to stand or realizing he could. No one had forced him. Anakin went willingly on his knees, which wasn't a habit Obi-Wan had instilled in him. No, he had never even spotted this behavior. Was Obi-Wan so blind? How was that possible?

"I won't use you," Anakin pleaded.

"You should."

What use did Obi-Wan serve otherwise? Furthermore, hadn't Anakin always planned to leave him? Hadn't he already done so by choosing another Master over Obi-Wan?

Finally, Anakin scrambled to his feet.

"You can't leave me," he implored, pressing into Obi-Wan's personal space. Obi-Wan wrestled with the urge to tug Anakin into a hug. "You can't."

"Then, what do you want?" he asked Anakin, though he doubted Anakin knew.

"Stay," Anakin begged. "Stay."

Obi-Wan didn't understand. Confused, he shook his head, searching Anakin's expression for a clue. Anakin glared at him with an impressive scowl.

A part of him ached to be chosen. Anakin begging him to stay soothed the itch. He was dizzy with the power Anakin relinquished, but he would be a fool to trust it. No, his pretty Padawan, the one he loved, would betray him. Obi-Wan should never have trusted him, shouldn't have let him keep his secrets, shouldn't have assumed that Padmé made him happier.

No, Obi-Wan should have put him on a shorter leash, letting Anakin struggle and trash until he had exhausted himself.

He had failed Anakin.

Keeping him on a shorter leash wouldn't have changed anything.

He hadn't been good enough. He had failed his Padawan. Anakin had suffered, and Obi-Wan had known it. Yet, he had failed to act until Anakin crumbled.

His hand had already crossed the distance, cupping Anakin's cheek before he could stop himself. Anakin's cheek was soft and warm under his palm.

"I'm sorry," he apologized thickly. "I failed you."

Anakin's eyes widened.

"Master--"

"I'm not your Master," Obi-Wan reminded him, gentler than before. "Anakin, that time is past."

"But I'm your Padawan," Anakin argued, sounding oh-so-wary and studying him closely.

"You were my Padawan," Obi-Wan corrected him softly. Anakin had been calm, surprisingly so. This, however, proved to be the last straw. He straightened, recoiling from Obi-Wan's hand around his cheek.

"You're punishing me," Anakin snapped, almost hissing at Obi-
Wan. "You're punishing me!"

"I do wonder what could have prompted this, Anakin," Obi-Wan commented dryly. "Maybe you have an idea?"

"You're my Master," Anakin said, voice softer than an exhale.

"You chose a different Master."

"I was wrong!"

Oh. That... That was unexpected. Anakin never admitted he was wrong because he always and wholeheartedly believed he did the right thing. Because he was sincere in his actions, he could never apologize, gritting his teeth when things didn't work out. When he ignored Obi-Wan's orders on the battlefield, which didn't always work in their favor, he wouldn't apologize. Instead, he would glare at Obi-Wan with justifications ready on his tongue. Oh, he would be so petulant and rebellious, telling Obi-Wan with his eyes that he knew that he had done the right thing.

The words hung between them.

"I was wrong, Master," Anakin said eagerly, staring at Obi-Wan with an uncanny ferocity.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"You should check on your wife," Obi-Wan whispered.

I'm not your Master.

"And your children."

"What-- Master, Master, what do you think of Luke and Leia?" Anakin asked urgently.

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, glad that his closed eyes protected him from Anakin's intensity. He couldn't lie about the twins. Not to Anakin's face. Not when Anakin sounded so eager and hesitantly proud. Anakin's tone transported him to simpler days. When Anakin would return home -- home, oh, the Temple wasn't home anymore and had likely never been Anakin's home -- with a project. He would ask similar questions, trying to sound indifferent but bleeding anxiety in the Force as he probed for praise.

"They are precious," he rasped. "Just like you, Anakin."

Anakin didn't respond. When the silence dragged on too long, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Anakin hadn't moved, staring at him with wide, suspiciously wet eyes. Unbidden, Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to Anakin's lips. Anakin chewed on them, but the corners still twitched. Obi-Wan didn't think he had ever seen such delight on Anakin's face, though Anakin still endeavored to hide it.

"Good," Anakin said haltingly before fleeing the room.

Alone again, Obi-Wan fidgeted with his tabard.

Anakin's children were precious. And so was Anakin. Yet, Obi-Wan shouldn't have expressed his awe so openly... It had been too much. Stewing in the awkwardness and the knowledge that Anakin had fled into Padmé's arms, Obi-Wan stroked his beard.

The ship wasn't big, so Obi-Wan planned to stick to this room. That seemed the best way to keep everyone's blood pressure under control. Yet, when he was alone, his mind could cannibalize itself.

He settled on the couch, wondering where Anakin was. Whether Padmé was in the same location.

His head hurt, feeling like his brain boiled in his skull. When he lifted a hand to cradle his head, his forehead was burning hot against his palm. His hand slipped to his nose, pinching the bridge to relieve some pressure. Briefly, he could breathe more deeply. Still, his head throbbed.

Sleep. Food. Caf.

When had he last eaten? Struggling to corral sluggish memories, Obi-Wan recalled drinking glasses of water in the waiting room and chewing on food without tasting a thing.

Obi-Wan slumped forward on the couch, his elbows digging into his thighs, pressing the bones at the base of his palms against his eyes. The pressure and darkness grounded him against the sharp throbbing in his head.

He needed a cup of caf. If only to distract himself from the ruinous mental image of Anakin crawling after him on his knees. Anakin had begged. He had begged Obi-Wan to stay and be his Master after tossing Obi-Wan aside.

None of this made sense. Or rather, the only part that made an awful, infuriating lot of sense was his reaction to Anakin's neediness. Anakin -- his best friend, his partner, his Padawan -- had betrayed him and the Jedi Order. Yet, here he was, refusing to let Obi-Wan go.

Well, that was perhaps the least surprising bit.

Obi-Wan's lips quirked into a humorless smile. Despite discarding his old Master for something shiny, newer, and better, he wouldn't let Obi-Wan go on his well-deserved meditation retreat.

Why make the suggestion if it was just empty words?

Obi-Wan supposed that was the hypocrisy and awkward lies he loved so much.

He wandered to the coffee corner, eyeing the machine wearily. He just wanted a cup of caf or something strong. Something stronger seemed like a better idea to forget this mess. So, caf it would be.

A lurch passed through the ship, upsetting Obi-Wan's balance. His hand shot out, slapping on the top of the pristine counter to avoid falling. Still, his hips made contact with the edge of the table. Hissing, he regained his balance while somewhere deeper in the ship, Luke wailed.

Sighing, Obi-Wan focused on the coffee machine, though his senses remained heightened until he heard Padmé shush Luke. Reassured that the babies were fine, he pressed the buttons on the machine, leaving smudged fingerprints behind.

Had someone cleaned the machine or was he the first one to use it?

Did it matter?

The first sip of caf was bitter and a heady relief. Although the liquid scalded his sore throat, it soothed simultaneously. Unfortunately, it didn't soothe his headache. His pulse still pounded in his skull. Overheated, he tugged on the collar of his tunic, loosening it.

Grumbling under his breath, suddenly far too irritated by the constricting collar, he tugged more harshly. He finished his caf in a few long gulps, deliberately careful as he put the used cup on the counter. Despite drinking a full cup, his mouth remained tight.

Sighing, he filled his cup with cold water to rinse his mouth. Water spilled over his hand when he pressed the cold glass against his burning forehead. Only sleep could help with the splitting headache, though Obi-Wan doubted sleep would come easily.

Still, he sprawled on the couch, draping one arm over his eyes to block out the harsh light.

A bang followed by a yell ripped him from his sleep. Disoriented, certainly not refreshed, and confused, he scrambled from the couch, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Wildly, he reached for the empty clip on his utility belt before he remembered he was aboard Padmé's ship.

And his lightsaber had melted.

Someone yelled again, and Obi-Wan recognized Padmé's voice.

"Sith-fucking-hells," he muttered, already racing to the cockpit because there was no galaxy in which he didn't, consequences be damned. Possibly, he would make things worse. However, he was the only one who could stop Anakin's rampage. He could slow and temper him. Padmé and Anakin faced one another in the cockpit, the Force ablaze with their fury. Obi-Wan slowed, stopping on the threshold, where neither appeared to notice his presence.

"You promised," Padmé bargained.

"You lied to Obi-Wan," Anakin accused her.

"I didn't, Ani."

Obi-Wan didn't know whether he should interfere. This wasn't his business or marriage, after all.

"Ani, listen to me. You promised me we would raise the baby on Naboo. Together. We would give them a better life. Don't you remember, Ani? This is our dream."

"I'm not leaving the Jedi Order!"

"But... Ani, Obi-Wan told me about what happened in the Temple. He said you killed--"

Padmé's cautious entreaty dissolved into choking and an awful gurgling. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. Anakin had lifted his right hand, the fever in his glazed-over eyes and crazed expression suggesting he wasn't fully aware of what he was hurting in his rage.

"Ani," Padmé croaked, lifting her fingers to claw at her throat.

Her cry jolted Obi-Wan from his shock.

Anakin used the Force to choke his wife without remorse, his mind fretted while his body acted on instinct. He rushed into the cockpit, barreling into Anakin to break his concentration.

"You are hurting her, Anakin." His voice was raised with anger, but it didn't pierce the Dark, dense fog in Anakin's mind. Thus, Anakin didn't see him coming, staggering backward as they collided. Instantly, Anakin's feverish intensity turned to him. He bared his teeth, looking delirious, reminding Obi-Wan of a dying star, slowly but inexorably collapsing under its own weight, consuming itself to extend its dwindling life. Padmé collapsed, panting raggedly with the pressure around his throat gone. Obi-Wan spared her one glance, confirming that she remained conscious. Then, Anakin lunged at him with his teeth and fists. Obi-Wan mirrored him, leaving no space between them. Anakin's fist hit his back uselessly, the proximity making his knuckles glance off Obi-Wan's shoulder blades. Obi-Wan fisted Anakin's tabard, trying to drive him back against the console.

"Calm yourself," he ordered. "Control yourself before you kill your wife."

Behind them, Padmé gasped, her terror slipping into the Force. Kark. That had been rather undiplomatic, but certainly Padmé realized what this would end in. What this could have ended in if Obi-Wan hadn't interrupted them.

"You're setting her up against me!"

Anakin's voice was too loud, too close to his ear. Obi-Wan's progress to the console, where he planned to pin Anakin, stopped as Anakin squirmed and struggled. Anakin tore at his clothes, trying to manhandle him, but Obi-Wan had more experience brawling. Besides, Anakin's mind crumbled with the Dark side, his jealousy, and his uncontrolled fury. In a wrestling match, Obi-Wan's experience and calm gave him the upper hand. Nevertheless, Anakin's wild writhing and attempts at violence made struggling Anakin to the console or floor near-impossible.

"You did that yourself."

Obi-Wan's heart splintered when he realized they had resumed their fight on Mustafar. At least, they didn't have any lightsabers on them anymore.

"I hate you!"

"I know," Obi-Wan whispered, all the fight leaving him in a wheeze. "I know. I'm so sorry, Anakin. So deeply, intensely sorry. I failed you, dear heart."

Finally, he managed to wrestle Anakin to the floor, putting all his weight on Anakin's stomach and resting his forearm over Anakin's throat to keep him down. With no regard for himself, Anakin lurched upward, choking himself.

"Stop talking!"

As Anakin screamed, he switched their positions, snarling like a feral beast, still snapping at Obi-Wan's throat with his teeth. All the air slammed from Obi-Wan's lungs as Anakin launched himself on top of him. Briefly, Obi-Wan's vision went blurry, turning Anakin's hands, which tried to wrap around his throat, hazy.

Oh, Anakin had a thing for choking people. Obi-Wan hadn't noticed before.

Unfortunately for Anakin, this was quickly turning into a predictable move. Obi-Wan slapped his hands aside, already anticipating what Anakin would try to do. He wrestled Anakin to the floor, the sound of ripping cloth following them. A fist landed in his stomach while a foot kicked him in the back, right over a kidney. Anakin lashed out without thinking about his next move, without a strategy. Thus, he offered the wrong kind of resistance as Obi-Wan rolled him on his belly. While Anakin still struggled fruitlessly, Obi-Wan pinned him to the floor with his full body. At some point, Anakin had tugged Obi-Wan's tabard loose, and the fabric was trapped under Anakin's shoulder.

They were both caught. However, as Obi-Wan lay on top of Anakin, he could wrench Anakin's arms behind his back, holding them in one hand while the other closed around Anakin's nape. He didn't apply any pressure, but the threat was there. Anakin gasped and panted raggedly, his squirming tapering off gradually when he realized he wouldn't be able to wiggle free.

Now, he tried to turn his head.

"No spitting," Obi-Wan said, not planning to sound as lazy and unaffected as he did.

It was another provocation, and Anakin writhed under him. Obi-Wan leaned more heavily on Anakin, using both his full weight and the Force to pin Anakin down. Both knew that Anakin couldn't win, but Anakin trashed regardless. His ass bucked against Obi-Wan's crotch, the flesh soft as he rolled his ass against Obi-Wan. Although Anakin struggled to escape, the movement was undeniably suggestive and oh-so-tempting. Obi-Wan's hips reacted before he could stop them, rutting against Anakin's ass, meeting him halfway. Pleasure slithered through his body, his cock twitching in his pants. Blood rushed south, pulsing in his cock, making Obi-Wan hyper-aware that he hardened in his pants, pressing against the supple flesh of Anakin's ass.

It was only a matter of time until Anakin noticed. First, Anakin froze, his hips still raised from the floor, his ass pressed against Obi-Wan's semi-hard cock. An odd noise fell from Anakin's lips, confirming what Obi-Wan already knew. Anakin had felt Obi-Wan's erection against his ass when Obi-Wan rolled his hips. Anakin deflated, slumping against the floor, where he remained. He didn't move or struggle, melted against the floor in surrender.

Swallowing thickly, Obi-Wan stared at Anakin's back under him, his fingers flexing around Anakin's wrists and nape.

"Ah," Anakin sighed.

It was a sweet sound, slipping from Anakin's lips. "Kriff," Anakin moaned. Laced with shock and a charming lack of restraint.

Anakin went stiff under him when he realized he had moaned.

The struggling resumed in earnest, and Obi-Wan knew he would lose if Anakin kept rutting against his erection. Anakin's hands slipped free from Obi-Wan's hold when Obi-Wan reflexively reached for the small of Anakin's back to make Anakin stop grinding against his cock.

He realized his misjudgment immediately. Anakin scrambled with his hands now, having gained significantly more leverage, and Obi-Wan was distracted.

"Relax," he ordered. "You will not resist."

His Force suggestion was too clumsy, delivered with too much panic and blunt force. Therefore, Anakin's shields deflected the suggestion. Under him, Anakin sneered.

"You wish, Obi-Wan," he snapped. "You are weak. The Jedi are weak and blind and--"

With surgical precision, cold anger sharpening his focus into a needle, Obi-Wan slipped past Anakin's defenses. Against such an attack, there was little Anakin could do. His shields were strong and decently tight, but they had small gaps Obi-Wan could exploit. Due to their familiarity, he was the only one in the galaxy who could find these gaps. Regardless, Anakin faced Obi-Wan as an opponent here, so the fact that no one else could replicate Obi-Wan's manipulation was irrelevant. Obi-Wan could.

And so, he did.

Anakin's mind was so vulnerable, still inflamed with the suffocating Darkness.

"You will relax, Anakin," Obi-Wan began, his voice lower and measured.

Anakin's struggle weakened, his limbs flopping with little coordination and no strength.

"I will relax," he mumbled, repeating Obi-Wan.

"You will offer no resistance."

"I will offer no resistance."

Anakin's shields weakened, melting and dripping, leaving him utterly bare. Carefully, Obi-Wan guarded Anakin's mind, painfully aware of how vulnerable he had rendered Anakin. He lowered himself, resting on top of Anakin's limp body. His lips brushed the shell of Anakin's ear as he spoke.

"You will stay calm," he ordered. "There's no reason to be scared or angry. You are safe here. I will not let any harm befall you, Anakin."

"I'm safe," Anakin slurred softly.

"Well done," Obi-Wan whispered. "You are safe, dear heart."

Anakin's head had slumped further, his cheek resting on the floor. Thus, Obi-Wan could gauge his expression as he lifted his head from the crook of Anakin's neck. Anakin's eyes were empty, his expression slack. Slowly, Anakin blinked, looking on the verge of falling asleep.

"Sleep," Obi-Wan said, fondness sneaking into his voice. "It's okay to rest, Anakin."

"Don't wanna," Anakin slurred, putting up a fight to resist the final suggestion.

He had obeyed all the other commands so well, done such a good job. Surely, this was fine? Anakin was calm and pliant under him. Oh, Obi-Wan's internal debate conspired against him. It only offered him reasons to reward Anakin for not killing his wife. A fate averted because Obi-Wan had stopped Anakin.

"If you can behave," Obi-Wan acquiesced. "You will be calm, won't you?"

"Yes," Anakin lisped.

Obi-Wan extricated himself from Anakin, glad that his tabard had come undone, hiding his crotch as he stood. He was painfully hard in his pants, and he worried his tunic would tent if he took his tabard off. Uneasily, he tugged on the collar of his tunic, which Anakin's fists had pulled loose. His robes were in complete disarray, he realized.

His gaze flicked to Padmé, who hadn't moved during their wrestling match. She sat on the floor, one hand cradling her throat. Her eyes were glued to Anakin with caution.

"May I know what triggered Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.

If Padmé wasn't a friend -- if she wasn't a politician trained to hide her emotions in a very specific manner -- Obi-Wan wouldn't have noticed that part of her attention lingered on Anakin. Obi-Wan followed her gaze, kneeling to have a better view of Anakin's face.

Anakin didn't scowl or sneer. He didn't silently threaten his wife either. He looked harmless, remaining relaxed when Obi-Wan ran a hand through Anakin's curls, his fingers immediately snatching on tangles.

"You should brush your hair, Anakin," he lectured softly.

Anakin hummed.

"What if it mats so badly we'll have to cut it?"

Anakin snorted. "As if you would let that happen," he slurred.

Obi-Wan couldn't snatch his hand back without hurting Anakin. Thus, he withdrew slowly.

"Coward," Anakin taunted him, victory in his glinting eyes.

"Anakin changed the coordinates," Padmé said.

Obi-Wan didn't lift from his crouch by Anakin's side, but he put his hands in his lap to avoid touching Anakin.

"I don't know when he did it, but we're no longer headed to Naboo."

Obi-Wan recalled the jolt running through the ship. Since he wasn't sure how long he had slept, he couldn't begin to guess how far off-route they were.

"You promised, Ani."

Well, that was a bit unfair. Obi-Wan had taken Anakin out completely. How was Anakin supposed to defend himself when Obi-Wan had forced him to be meeker than a lamb? Yet, it wasn't his place to jump in. Thus, he remained silent, ready to interfere should it become necessary.

"I didn't," Anakin mumbled, each word a struggle. "Didn't promise."

"You would leave the Order to join me on Naboo. We would raise the twins together. In the lake country, where we married."

"Wouldn't leave the Order," Anakin protested weakly.

Realization washed over Obi-Wan. Anakin had never planned to leave. Of course, he hadn't. Why had Obi-Wan assumed for a single second that Anakin wouldn't try to keep up his lies for as long as they would last and go as far as they would take him? Anakin wasn't greedy, but he clung to what he considered his. He would never have chosen. He would never have let go voluntarily.

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan asked. Anakin's golden eyes flicked to him.

"Fuel station," he lisped.

"A wise decision," Obi-Wan agreed, lightheaded with relief. Anakin hadn't sent them on a suicide mission to Coruscant. He wouldn't return to the man who had stolen what was rightfully Obi-Wan's. "Quick thinking. We don't want the authorities to catch us on an empty tank."

Anakin sighed.

"Wanted to jump a couple of times. Scramble the signal."

Obi-Wan nodded his approval.

"You're defending him," Padmé accused him. "You're picking his side."

"There are no sides here, Padmé," Obi-Wan reassured her.

"He choked me, Obi-Wan," Padmé stressed, enunciating each word. Obi-Wan knew. Did she think he had missed that? It was the reason he had had Anakin between his thighs, which was every bit as ruinous as Obi-Wan had dreamed. Every bit as good and addictive, too. "You told me that he..." She paused to swallow, her brows furrowing in distress. "He killed children. Again."

Again?

Anakin struggled, obviously affected by his wife's judgment. Automatically, Obi-Wan reached for him, patting his head.

"Don't aggravate Anakin," he said. "He needs peace."

A Jedi was merciful and compassionate. And Anakin needed kindness. Couldn't Padmé see how quiet he was in the Force? He didn't struggle against Obi-Wan's Force suggestions either.

"You must support him," Obi-Wan added, his gaze on Anakin, who watched him. His jaw was set mulishly, and there was stubbornness and mistrust in his eyes. Yet, he remained on the floor, not moving a muscle, behaving so well.

"You don't care," Padmé said. "You don't care," she repeated disbelievingly. "You... You would let him kill me."

"Don't be preposterous," Obi-Wan snapped, still not lifting his gaze from Anakin to make sure Anakin wouldn't fall into mindless rage again. "Of course, I would step in. Didn't I do so just now?"

"For his sake."

Confused, Obi-Wan tilted his head, finally turning his head to meet Padmé's gaze. She had risen to her feet, towering over them both. With a last look at him, one that seared him, she turned away. Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as she left them, likely seeking refuge with the babies.

He had lost a friend, but he couldn't tell why. Padmé had said 'for his sake' with a nuance that Obi-Wan couldn't understand, leaving him floundering. Flustered, he sorted out his tabard. Anakin didn't move, watching him closely.

They both knew that Obi-Wan had been hard while they struggled. When Anakin opened his mouth, Obi-Wan was certain that he would bring it up. A hundred excuses crowded his tongue, waiting to be unleashed, stinging like humblebees.

"Anakin, I--"

"Pretty sure you ruined my marriage," Anakin grumbled.

"You did that yourself. My assistance was not required. Might I add, you should not be married at all, Anakin," Obi-Wan scolded. The lecture rolled from his tongue reflexively. It was muscle memory. He was too keen to forget Anakin had sworn allegiance to another. This was a disgrace, a trigger Obi-Wan kept pulling.

Yet, the chamber was empty, and the game of Cantonican roulette resumed.

Better luck next time.

"I will not be for much longer, Master," Anakin complained.

"Well, I fail to see how that is my fault," Obi-Wan defended himself stiffly. "Also, I'm not your Master, Anakin."

Anakin narrowed his eyes.

"You hate me, Anakin," Obi-Wan reminded him, since it appeared Anakin himself had forgotten. Surprisingly, reminding Anakin didn't sting. He didn't feel anything as he tossed the words back in Anakin's face. Hatred was something, which was better than the nothing looming ahead of Obi-Wan. "Actually, you called me a coward, too," he recalled.

Anakin's frown deepened, his mercurial moods settling on displeasure.

"Whatever," he grumbled, rolling his eyes demonstratively.

"Whatever?" Obi-Wan echoed. "That's not the apology your Master expects, dear heart."

"So you are my Master," Anakin drawled. All that recalcitrance and displeasure disappeared in a heartbeat, replaced by smug victory.

Perhaps Obi-Wan could have won their duel on Mustafar if their environment hadn't interfered. Perhaps he could have subjugated Anakin while Anakin had gone insane with Darkness, incapable of looking further than the next strike, needing to inflict as much damage as he could. However, in this setting, Obi-Wan was at a distinct disadvantage. Because he couldn't deny Anakin, though Anakin would likely claim the opposite.

He had loved Anakin for so long that the love had turned into a dull ache. Loving hurt, but it hadn't been enough to scare Obi-Wan straight. He couldn't give this up.

You killed my family, he thought as he studied Anakin's sharp, triumphant expression. You killed my family, but you still claim you're mine. Don't you understand that you killed us all?

The words turned meaningless, drowned out by selfish relief that Anakin was still alive. Attachment had always been Obi-Wan's greatest weakness. Despite suffering for it, he had never managed to outgrow those attachments. He held them loosely, willing to suffer and maintain a proper distance. But what did that matter if he couldn't blame Anakin?

You killed my family. You hate me. You never saw me as your family.

But he wouldn't have left with Padmé.

Only because Anakin had believed he could fool them all. He had never wanted to choose, planning to keep everything. He was so selfish, clung so tightly, and pulled off miracles. Why would Anakin believe this lie couldn't last forever when all the others had?

Only because Obi-Wan had willfully ignored them, lying in turn to protect Anakin's secrets.

"If you are my Padawan, shouldn't you listen to your Master?" he asked.

"I never did," Anakin taunted.

And look where they were now.

"I never should have been so indulgent with you," Obi-Wan sighed.

Anakin looked so very offended. The Force suggestion still lingered, and Anakin's struggle to sit upright was fruitless. After squirming for a minute, he stilled again to glare sullenly at Obi-Wan.

"You weren't."

"I wasn't?" Obi-Wan asked. "Anakin, no one else would have let you get away with as much as you did under my watch. No one else."

"That is not true," Anakin grumbled. "You always had so much criticism. Be mindful, Anakin. Don't scowl, Anakin. Don't be violent, Anakin. Listen to your superiors, Anakin. Follow my lead, Anakin. Don't improvise and ruin this for the Republic, Anakin. You're a bad Padawan, Anakin. You never trusted me."

That was a remarkably poor imitation of Obi-Wan's Coruscanti accent. A switch flicked in Obi-Wan's brain. Something snapped, breaking. Unlike Mustafar's lava pools, space was cold. Thus, the break was clean and sharp.

"I failed you, alright," Obi-Wan hissed. He reached for Anakin's head, threading a hand through the curls to pull Anakin's head back and force eye contact on his terms. "I failed you, Anakin. I trusted you too much. I told the other Masters they should trust you, too. And here we are."

The strain on Anakin's throat turned his gulp into a loud click. Those golden eyes had widened in shock and something else that Obi-Wan didn't care to investigate. It was heat and made tears well in Anakin's eyes. Those perfect, maddeningly long eyelashes clumped, and Anakin looked...

Obi-Wan shook his head sharply to dislodge the thought.

He would devour Anakin.

"I spoke on your behalf. I defended you. Anakin, if I failed you, it's because I was never hard with you. Because I considered you my best friend, my brother, and my partner. When I left for Utapau, I told you that I was so proud of you. That it wouldn't take much longer before you would be a Master."

"You asked me to spy on the Chancellor! You ordered me to commit treason."

"The Chancellor was a Sith Lord, Anakin. Didn't you grovel at his feet because you wanted to be his apprentice? Hasn't the Republic fallen? Would you claim that we were wrong to ask you to keep an eye on the Chancellor?"

Anakin didn't have an insubordinate retort ready. He only glowered sullenly, sulking in silence.

"I didn't grovel," he complained after a long pause.

"You didn't?" Obi-Wan goaded. Although he was aware it was a terrible idea to challenge a Fallen Force-user, he couldn't stop. Everything he had bottled up poured from his mouth. "I saw the recordings, Anakin. I saw you call a Sith Lord your Master. And now you want to use those same pretty lips to call me Master again?"

"Master," Anakin whined. "We already discussed this."

"If I failed you. If I failed you -- and, undeniably, I did -- then it was because I was too soft when you required stern guidance and a shorter leash. I should never have let you go on that solo mission to Naboo. Clearly, you weren't ready yet. What did you think, Anakin? Marrying a Senator? Do you know what that does to our impartiality? It ruins it! Ah, but that's the crux, isn't it? The great Anakin Skywalker didn't think at all -- or only with his cock."

Anakin grumbled, the bright flush on his cheekbones spreading down his askew collar and up to the tips of his ears.

"What was that, dear?" Obi-Wan asked sweetly between erratic pants. He felt wrung out and uncomfortably sweaty like he had sparred with Anakin instead. He leaned closer, using his hand in Anakin's hand to stop Anakin's retreat. "You should answer when your Master asks you a question, Padawan."

"You were hard," Anakin sulked.

Ah.

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, the cold air chasing the fog that had settled over his mind away. Softly, he lowered Anakin's head again.

"I was," he agreed. "It was a reaction to physical stimuli. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

Internally, he was so mortified that he would perish. Outwardly, he projected calm. Blowing this situation out of proportion would serve neither. Moreover, his response wasn't wrong. Unfortunately, it was only the introduction to a longer story.

Because Obi-Wan wouldn't have stiffened in his pants during some awkward dry-humping if he had had anyone else under him. He loved Anakin Skywalker, which made Anakin special. But Anakin was special to so many people, and Obi-Wan wasn't. Anakin was more deeply anchored in the universe than Obi-Wan was.

Anakin looked uncomfortable, keeping his gaze averted as he pondered his answer. Likely, he would ignore the question as he was so wont to do. Obviously, he hoped that Obi-Wan would return to a safer topic. Pursuing this line of questions would be cruel while Anakin looked like he might combust on the spot.

A small internal voice whispered that Anakin deserved some cruelty. Temporary discomfort would be good for him. The rest of Obi-Wan was louder.

"My apologies, Anakin," he said, aware that Anakin got his way again. Truly, he had failed Anakin. While weak in certain areas, he had been too harsh in others. He had done Anakin such a disservice. If he had been a better Master -- a better partner and brother -- this wouldn't have happened. He had failed Anakin, possibly from the very start. "Can you stand?"

Anakin blinked at him, suddenly meeting Obi-Wan's gaze again.

"Can you stand?" Obi-Wan repeated when Anakin's expression remained blank. To illustrate what he meant, he stood and offered Anakin a hand. Anakin's gaze dropped to Obi-Wan's hand.

With growing concern, Obi-Wan prodded Anakin's shields in the Force, finding them in shambles.

"You should erect some shields, dear," he chided Anakin. "What's come over you?"

"Nothing," Anakin said hurriedly. In a flurry of limbs, he scrambled to his feet. His utility belt had snapped at some point and clattered to the floor. His sash unraveled, his tabard parting with nothing to keep the strip of leather pinned in place. With a mortified sound, Anakin pulled on his sash, accidentally freeing the fabric. The sash hung from one hand while he tried to pull the folds of his tunic close with the other.

"I really did a number on you," Obi-Wan sighed. "We're lucky neither of us is injured."

He stepped closer, gently slapping Anakin's hand aside to tug his collar right again.

"There you go," he muttered, stealing the sash from Anakin's hands to help him dress.

"I-- I-- I can do it myself," Anakin squeaked.

"Hmm?" Belatedly, Obi-Wan realized he had helped Anakin dress, treating him like a youngling who still struggled with the many layers of a Jedi's daily wear. "Of course. Here you go."

He released the sash immediately, silently thanking his lucky stars that his voice sounded normal.

"Wait!"

Confused, Obi-Wan stopped his retreat. Anakin grimaced, his expression morphing through a series of interesting poses. He had ducked his head but stared at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes with burning resentment.

"Do you need help?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly.

"No," Anakin snapped.

Then, what were they waiting for?

Obi-Wan knew better than to ask, accepting Anakin's mercurial moods at face value. He had Fallen, so these sharp, unpredictable swings between extremes were to be expected. Moreover, as Anakin's former Master, he was deeply familiar with Anakin's moods.

"I'll keep an eye on the ship," he suggested. "You can check how your children are doing."

"I don't think Padmé wants to see me."

Although Anakin was surprisingly self-aware, this didn't change the main problem. He was right for a very good reason.

"She cannot bar you from seeing your children."

Obi-Wan feared that a court would rule in Padmé's favor since Anakin had choked her multiple times. The confrontation in the cockpit had revealed how deep those scars ran. However, there would be no court ruling. There were fugitives and the galaxy's most wanted.

Anakin lingered in the cockpit, fiddling with the snap closure on the utility belt.

"Do you want me to join you and act as a mediator?" Obi-Wan asked, though he doubted he would be worth much as a mediator in this case.

After all, Padmé would question his neutrality, believing he was biased. And she wasn't wrong.

He had to offer, though. Furthermore, Anakin would refuse, scoffing at him again.

"Fine," he said.

"Very well. I understand this is a private matter. Then, I will-- wait. What?"

Anakin's eyes narrowed further. "We're going, Master," he decided, reaching for Obi-Wan's sleeve. His organic fingers closed around the hem and tugged insistently.

Well, after Obi-Wan had accidentally revealed he counted on a rejection, it wasn't surprising that Anakin would be contrarian. Resigning himself to his fate, he followed Anakin to the only bedroom aboard the sleek craft. Both twins slept on the bed while Padmé sat on the edge. The protocol droid hovered in a corner and noticed them first.

"Master Anakin. Master Obi-Wan. Welcome. Can I get refreshments for you? Oh, where is Artoo when you need him? I will go find him. I can't believe I have to do everything myself here."

Alerted to their presence by the loud greeting, Padmé lifted her gaze from the twins to appraise them. Obi-Wan could tell she didn't like what she saw.

"I don't want you near my children," she declared with a quiet, unyielding resolve.

"Me?" Anakin asked.

"Obi-Wan," she said. "Either of you," she added after a long pause. "But I doubt I can stop you, Anakin. You are their father, after all."

The rejection hurt. Little Luke and Leia were Anakin's children. They shared so much with their father. They were so good in a galaxy doused in Darkness. Their Light shone so bright and sweet. Obi-Wan shouldn't be greedy, but he had hoped to hold them again. His arms felt awkward hanging by his side.

"I understand," he said, wishing his voice didn't waver.

"No," Anakin growled. "Obi-Wan's their..."

He hesitated, which didn't bode well. Padmé lowered her gaze, watching Luke's hand curl around her finger.

They were supposed to be a little family. Instead, Anakin stood by Obi-Wan's shoulder, trying to articulate something that would send his failing marriage into its death throes. Obi-Wan didn't need the bad vibes rotting in the Force to know Anakin wouldn't find the right words to fix his marriage.

While they had been in the medical facility, Anakin and Padmé had looked so happy together. Admittedly, that was a stretch, but the domesticity had ruined Obi-Wan. It had reminded him of the family he had lost in a pointless genocide led by the person he was in love with.

Now, they were at odds because Anakin staunchly and irrationally refused to let his old, washed-up Master go. This was the truth in the non-attachment clause. One couldn't hold on to things forever without damaging the things they held in their hands with the strength of their sweaty hold.

It was inevitable.

Nothing was made to last forever.

Especially when one's former Padawan destroyed it all. Grief filled him, pouring into a deep, dark lake. The bottom wasn't visible; the surface unperturbed, a perfect, black mirror for the sky above. Here, he would drown.

His family was gone. And now, Anakin would lose his family, too. Obi-Wan wished Anakin could be happy and carefree. He wished he could have given Anakin the life he deserved. One that was easy, filled with joy, and adventure. A life untouched by the Darkness that had weighed his Padawan down. He wished there was something he could do to fix this situation.

If ejecting himself out of the airlock would give Anakin happiness, if it could heal the damage, he would. It would be his final, selfless act. Despite wanting to have Anakin close and rock Anakin's children in his arms, he would. What an honor it would be to watch Anakin teach his children. They would be as stubborn as their parents.

But Padmé cradled her throat, and she didn't want Obi-Wan near her children again. She would ask for a separation, and no one could blame her for wanting to escape her violent husband.

It would ruin Anakin, though. Anakin squirmed in his spot, his frown deepening, changing. Anakin wasn't happy. He had killed Obi-Wan's family for nothing.

It was such a bitter pill to swallow, one Obi-Wan must swallow to move on. Yet, he couldn't; his throat closed around thick, cloying misery.

He wished he could have given Anakin a happier life. In this moment, there were a thousand things he would change. Small gestures that would have made Anakin's life a little easier.

When he said he had failed Anakin, he was right.

When he added that he had failed Anakin by being too lenient, he was... He wasn't wrong exactly, but he had been stern.

And now, he would never hold Luke or Leia.

"Obi-Wan?"

The helpless desperation in Anakin's voice terrified Obi-Wan. Why did Anakin sound so young and unsettled? Moving on instinct, his gaze snapped back to Anakin. Anakin watched him with wide eyes, his panic obvious.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin repeated. "Master?"

"I will give you space," Obi-Wan said, surprised by how thick his voice sounded.

"You're crying," Anakin pointed out.

Surprised, Obi-Wan lifted a hand to his face, feeling wetness on his cheeks.

Ah.

"Ah," he said eloquently, taken aback by the nasal quality to his voice. "It appears I am."

I failed you, Anakin. And now, you will lose your family. If there was anything I could do to protect you from that pain, I would.

"Why?" Anakin demanded. The fever in his eyes had returned, his movements jerky and stiff as he rounded on Obi-Wan. They had already stood close together after squeezing through the doorway. Thus, it took only one step for Anakin to corner Obi-Wan against the doorway.

"I'm sure that if you ask," Obi-Wan began slowly, "Padmé will forgive you."

Padmé made a noise of disagreement. However, Obi-Wan knew that no one could resist the full strength of Anakin's remorse.

"I'll make it better. Wait here. Don't move, Master," Anakin ordered.

Obi-Wan had planned to flee despite knowing that it was too late to hide his tears. Besides, a hasty retreat wouldn't do his dignity any good. However, standing in a corner of the room crying was an unacceptable alternative. Roughly, he wiped his cheeks, watching Anakin.

Anakin turned clumsy when he was desperate. His movements lost their inherent grace and became choppy. He scooped Leia from the bed and presented the baby to Obi-Wan.

"Here," he said as he pressed Leia against Obi-Wan's chest. "Take Leia."

Slowly, Obi-Wan accepted the offer. Although this went directly against Padmé's wishes, he couldn't help it. Leia was silent in his arms, watching him intently.

"Hello, there," he greeted her hoarsely.

"Don't cry, Master," Anakin pleaded.

"I won't," Obi-Wan said. "It's just..." he searched his brain for a good explanation. "Allergies."

"Allergies," Anakin echoed, sounding wrecked by the seasons. Obi-Wan didn't deign to respond. Instead, he cradled Leia to his chest, swaying lightly so she rocked in his arms.

Leia yawned.

Anakin shuffled aside, still studying Obi-Wan. After Anakin shifted aside, nothing shielded Obi-Wan against Padmé, who watched him silently, her expression complicated.

"You're still crying," Anakin fretted.

"It will pass, Anakin."

It would. Everything did. Though the sadness never appeared to lift.

"I will give you time," Padmé said. She brushed past them to the door, twisting to stay as far away from Anakin as possible. Obi-Wan didn't think she realized. He did, though, and judging Anakin's resigned expression, Anakin did, too.

"I can talk to you," Anakin offered.

Padmé stopped in the hallway. She turned around to give Anakin a pitying look, her arms defensively crossed in front of her chest.

"Anakin, the only talk I want to have is about our divorce."

Anakin produced a high-pitched sound. "But... But, angel-- It's-- I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for what I did. You picked the wrong moment to piss me off. I was angry, and you said all those things. But, yeah, I'm sorry. I can't breathe without you. You know that I love you. I did it all for you. Everything. It's for you, angel."

This was highly impressive. Anakin didn't apologize as a rule.

Anakin didn't want a divorce.

Obi-Wan swallowed a gasp. Hiding the hurt was difficult, but Anakin and Padmé only had eyes for one another. Leia was the only one who noticed. She gurgled in his arms, but the comfort she could give didn't soften the blow.

At his core, Obi-Wan had believed Anakin's marriage was beyond redemption. That nothing could salvage it. Then, when Anakin couldn't cling to both sides, when Padmé pulled away, Obi-Wan would be there for him. Patiently, he would bide his time until Anakin turned to him. Despite knowing it was pathetic, he couldn't help it. Shame sat heavy in his stomach, but he couldn't let Anakin go.

Anakin was his everything.

Even now. After everything.

"That's not an apology," Padmé pointed out. Granted, it was a poor apology, but Anakin had Fallen. Obi-Wan would do many inadvisable things to hear those words. Unfortunately, he could only be a silent witness to Anakin offering them to someone else.

Although Anakin was awkward and so prone to lies, he was deeply sincere.

"Furthermore, it will not change my mind. It can't. I regret that we're in this position."

Padmé blamed herself, didn't she? Of course, she would. If Obi-Wan pulled himself from his self-absorbed self-pity, he would realize he wasn't the only one who had lost everything. However, unlike Obi-Wan, she didn't cry. Embarrassed by the tear tracks drying on his face, he focused on Leia.

"I have to wonder what would have happened if I had realized the consequences earlier."

"You loved me," Anakin implored, possibly not realizing he talked in the past tense about the marriage he desperately wanted to save.

"I still do," Padmé said, "but I can't..."

Obi-Wan glanced up when Padmé's voice trailed off.

"You will hurt me again. Whenever I disagree with you."

"I won't," Anakin promised urgently. "Angel, Obi-Wan will keep you safe."

"I will what?" Obi-Wan asked, too shocked to remember he shouldn't insert himself in their quarrels. Somehow, that consistently turned things worse.

"He wouldn't," Padmé said with all the conviction in the galaxy simultaneously.

Anakin's head swiveled between them, the betrayal visible in his gaze.

"Why?" he asked, a whine in his voice.

Padmé sighed deeply. "He'll defend you. He won't let you kill me, Anakin. There is a difference. I could say more," she added with a glance at Obi-Wan, "but I'll refrain. It's no use. There's nothing left to save, Anakin."

"But you love me!"

"And it isn't enough. Not for me."

"You can't!" Anakin's voice climbed and climbed, both in pitch and volume. Both Luke and Leia grew restless, their moods clouding the Force. Obi-Wan wouldn't call the antsy unease crawling up his spine a bad feeling. However, he knew he couldn't be trusted in this regard. His heart bled, his eyes were irritated after crying, and his nose was stuffy.

Anakin didn't notice him slinking to the bed to put Leia down gently. Luke and Leia grabbed each other's hands, reminding Obi-Wan of a pair of otters. Love smothered him as he stroked the twins' heads.

Reluctantly, he withdrew and turned back to the door, hoping he wouldn't have to interfere. Nonetheless, he would if it became necessary. He would do what he must. Always. Padmé was wrong because he would protect her against Anakin. He would gladly take anything Anakin could dish out -- without complaint or reservation.

"You can't leave me, angel," Anakin bargained. "I'll have nothing. If you leave me and don't love me. It will all have been..."

For nothing.

Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, an invasive cold settling in his bones. This war, the loss of his family, would always have been for nothing. Nothing could be gained under these conditions. Such suffering could only lead to Darkness, which, by definition, destroyed itself. Only stopping could have changed something, but they had barreled onward without slowing.

They hadn't stopped.

Now, it was too late.

It will always have been for nothing.

Didn't Anakin realize?

"You have Obi-Wan. He loves you," Padmé said.

Obi-Wan's heart did something funny, except that it wasn't funny at all. His heart spasmed and squeezed. Horrified, he yanked his head in Anakin's direction. Anakin gawked at Padmé, his jaw slack as her words processed.

"You are not alone, Anakin. You will never be. Obi-Wan is more forgiving than I can be."

"While I appreciate your candid observations, Padmé, there is really no need to--"

"Did you know that Obi-Wan threatened me? You were still recovering from the fight on Geonosis. Obi-Wan visited me to tell me I should break up with you for my sake. If I pursued a relationship with a Jedi, I would hurt us both. Our love violated both my and the Jedi's impartiality and vows."

Anakin pivoted on his heels to stare at Obi-Wan with wide eyes. They were golden, so different from the blue Obi-Wan had known for a lifetime. Different from the man Obi-Wan had fallen in love with.

One night, seated around a campfire, he had turned and realized. The din of rowdy soldiers trying to find a fleeting moment of relief from the endless fighting had dropped away.

He had met blue eyes over the campfire, Anakin's eternally tan skin illuminated by the warm glow. He had looked ethereal as he had grinned. It had been a provocation, teasing Obi-Wan silently.

Obi-Wan couldn't remember what shenanigans had put that grin on Anakin's face anymore. Yet, he could recall the image and his body's reaction in vivid detail.

His hands had flexed in his lap, instinctively trying to hold on to the moment as Anakin had turned to his Padawan. They had gloated over a victory, two peas in a pod. And Obi-Wan's thoughts had betrayed him.

I love you.

Although he had relaxed his hands to let the current slip through his fingers, the love had already drifted to the bottom of his heart as sediment. Desire had choked him tighter than shame or guilt ever could.

"You didn't tell me, Master," Anakin complained, distracting Obi-Wan from the memory.

"Of course, he didn't," Padmé said. "I didn't see it then. I thought he had approached me because he believed I would see reason. But it's because he couldn't bear to break your heart. He approached me for your sake. It has always been for you, Anakin. Always. And you didn't even notice."

At that point, Obi-Wan's only ulterior motive was that Anakin would never listen to him. Tensions had reached an all-time high after Geonosis, the Master-Padawan dynamic chafing. Asking Padmé to be sensible was his best bet. It hadn't worked in his favor. Few things did.

"I..." Obi-Wan didn't know how to defend himself against the allegations Padmé threw in his face.

He was in love with Anakin and had tried to sabotage these star-crossed lovers. Padmé painted him as the scorned wife.

"You hoped I would break Anakin's heart, which would drive him into your arms."

"I didn't interfere again," Obi-Wan argued weakly. "Despite knowing you continued to see each other. I only acted in Anakin's best interest. I believed you made him happy, but I was wrong."

"You told me you loved him, you know," Padmé mused. "But even if you hadn't, it is obvious now."

"I did no such thing," Obi-Wan argued, mortified by Padmé's claims. He would feel better prepared for this conversation if his eyes didn't sting and the drying tear tracks didn't pull on his cheeks.

Padmé gave him a deadpan stare.

"Fine. I asked a question. You gave me an answer -- even if that was looking at me like a kicked puppy."

Words failed Obi-Wan. Because Padmé was right. If he denied, if he spun lies, she would pierce them. As a Senator, she had plenty of experience in this department. This was a fight Obi-Wan couldn't win. Nor was it a battle he wished to pick.

This was his secret. One he would have taken to his grave. It would have been a source of comfort and loss alike. Caught in the crossfire of a domestic dispute that shouldn't involve him, this final secret was ripped from him like his family and home. Yet, he had inserted himself in this situation, constantly taking more liberties, foolishly believing he wouldn't burn himself.

These blisters were his own fault, but Obi-Wan couldn't carry them gracefully.

"Excuse me," Obi-Wan bit out sharply. Stewing in his discomfort, he squeezed past Anakin and Padmé as he fled the room.

"Master," Anakin gasped. Obi-Wan ducked before Anakin's hand could curl around his arm.

This was never supposed to happen. None of this was.

"Master," Anakin called after him.

Rushed footsteps followed him. Abruptly, Obi-Wan stopped, steeling himself against what would follow next. Anakin slammed into him, unprepared for Obi-Wan making a stance after fleeing.

"I'm not your Master," Obi-Wan snapped, the bitter cold his final defense. Padmé had ruined his secret, tearing down what remained of his dignity.

She was right, though.

And the fact that she was correct about something Obi-Wan refused to acknowledge was more damning than the truth itself. Maybe.

Because falling in love with one's Padawan? That was inexcusable.

Shame curdled in Obi-Wan's stomach, rotting and making him feel bloated. Restlessness crawled under his skin, urging him to continue walking.

"You're running, Master," Anakin said, following him through the ship.

"I'm not running. I walk, Anakin," he argued. "Also, I'm not your Master. In this matter, I will be more stubborn than you, I promise you."

"I'll do anything, Master. Anything for you."

They had almost reached the living space, with Anakin showing no signs of giving up. Obi-Wan's arctic anger, which barely concealed his humiliation and grief, hadn't sparked Anakin's temper. Anakin sounded smug, so sure of his victory.

"Very well," Obi-Wan snapped. He stopped walking. If he let Anakin follow him into the living space, Anakin wouldn't leave again. Obi-Wan knew Anakin too well. Perhaps he didn't know Anakin's heart, how deeply he had truly failed Anakin, or all the secrets Anakin had hidden successfully. However, he did know Anakin. There was no one in the galaxy, himself included, that Obi-Wan knew better. Every idiosyncrasy. Every bad habit. Every scowl. Every like and dislike.

He knew everything.

Anakin reared back when Obi-Wan turned to face him.

"If you insist, my Padawan," he said, and Anakin didn't protest. Actually, he seemed very content to be called Padawan. Why would he be discontent when Obi-Wan had gifted Anakin another victory?

"If you are my Padawan. If I am your Master, then I do not tolerate another Master in your life."

Anakin shrugged in dismissal. "Yeah, sure," he agreed readily. While Anakin demanded an absolute loyalty that bordered on devotion from those close to him, his Padawan's allegiance was a fickle thing.

"You will not kneel or bow," Obi-Wan continued, lulling Anakin into a false sense of security.

Now, Anakin's expression lost that smug smirk and greed. Instead, he frowned, his lips twisting into a moue.

"Okay," he grumbled, acting like Obi-Wan had rubbed his proverbial fur in the wrong direction.

"And, my dear Padawan, you will leave me alone," Obi-Wan concluded triumphantly. "Leave," he repeated forcefully when Anakin didn't react immediately.

"But... Master!"

Obi-Wan turned away, striding into the living space. Well, that had gone remarkably better than he had expected, though the whole galaxy had already turned to shit. This small victory didn't erase what Padmé had revealed.

Ignoring Obi-Wan's instructions, Anakin trailed after him.

"Didn't I give you orders, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked coolly.

"They're terrible orders," Anakin grumbled, his hands twisted in a flap of his tabard, his shoulders hunched, and petulance etched in his expression.

"A Padawan should follow them regardless," Obi-Wan reminded him.

"But you love me, Master."

An uncomfortable truth. Obi-Wan shouldn't love Anakin. Unfortunately, he undeniably did.

"You will heed my orders, Padawan."

Anakin covered the distance between them with quick, desperate steps.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned. He couldn't retreat, but meeting Anakin head-on would crush him. What choice did he have, though?

"Padmé says you love me." Anakin sounded so eager, the fever in those yellow eyes flaring. Obi-Wan had to wonder whether Anakin still experienced the same reality. Stars were born and died in his Force signature, which groaned under the weight of the Darkness. Delirium would take him to places Obi-Wan couldn't imagine. Yet, he would follow anyway. He always had.

"If you want to reconcile with your wife, you have to leave," Obi-Wan pleaded.

He didn't want Anakin to leave. The words were sand in his mouth, grinding between his molars and prickling the underside of his tongue. Nevertheless, he had to utter them.

Honor demanded it.

Or did he not want to be accountable for the fallout? If Anakin chose him, Obi-Wan hadn't crossed any boundaries.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. The Order was gone. No one would discover that Obi-Wan loved his student, the man he had had the immense pleasure to teach.

Obi-Wan Kenobi loved Anakin Skywalker.

Meanwhile, Anakin had married the Senator of Naboo in secret. He had married her. Even now, the idea was so far-fetched, so unlikely, that Obi-Wan couldn't wrap his mind around it. However, a vow that would last until death parted them was exactly the loyalty Anakin would demand from his partner.

His traitorous, fickle, mercurial Padawan was so loyal, and it had killed them all.

Was it worth it?

Why wouldn't Anakin leave him alone? Why wouldn't he give Obi-Wan this after taking everything? Wasn't he happy after killing the Order and laying waste to the Republic?

Because Anakin refused to let Padmé or him go. Certainly, Anakin had to know he had landed himself in an impossible stalemate. It had become abundantly clear that he couldn't keep both his wife and former Master. Somehow, Obi-Wan had managed to pit himself against Padmé. He didn't know how he had managed it.

Obi-Wan had entered a match he couldn't win. If any plausible deniability had remained, his weak protests and unraveling manipulation had shredded that to strips. When Anakin asked whether Obi-Wan loved him, he only pestered Obi-Wan because he wanted to hear the words from Obi-Wan's mouth.

Anakin already knew that Obi-Wan loved him. Obi-Wan had had plenty of opportunities to deny, to tell Anakin that he would never consider his former Padawan as anything beyond the small boy clutching his cloak or the traitor slaughtering his family and burning down his house.

Instead, he had demanded Anakin choose between Padmé and him.

Obi-Wan was deeply disappointed in himself.

"Leave," he scoffed. Anakin would never choose. He would wait until others made this choice for him. "Leave, Anakin. If you have any respect for me as your former Master, you will leave me alone. Go back to your wife."

Defeat crept into his voice, slipping through his defenses.

"Master," Anakin pleaded. A hand curled around his shoulder.

Why was Anakin unhappy? Why would he give Obi-Wan hope?

Obi-Wan choked on the miasma of conflicting emotions. Resentment devoured him, but the love kept welling in his heart. He hated and loved simultaneously. For a brief moment, hysteria climbing up his throat, Obi-Wan knew how Anakin perceived the galaxy.

"I'm not leaving, Master."

The fate of civilizations had hinged on Obi-Wan consistently making the right calls. No matter the personal cost, he had to guide those trusting him to the best outcome. Sometimes that meant minimizing casualties, measuring lives in his hands.

He had doomed people to death, actively acting in a way that would crush their odds at survival.

The right option was rarely a good one.

During the war, this responsibility had rested on Obi-Wan's shoulders because he would make the right call with quiet dignity, over and over again. It was a burden, but it was one he had carried nonetheless. Because it was the right choice even if the outcome was to his personal detriment.

He wasn't a High General anymore. After Anakin's helping hand, he wasn't a Jedi either. The Jedi were gone. Rebuilding would take generations, so Obi-Wan would never know the peace and comfort of home again.

Faster than a viper, he spun, twisting from Anakin's grip on his shoulder. One hand curled around Anakin's outstretched wrist, while the other shoved between Anakin's shoulder blades. Although cats had faster reflexes than venomous snakes, Anakin didn't react in time. He stumbled forward, his arm already wrenched behind his back before he hit the back of the couch.

"I hope that is not a choice you'll come to regret," Obi-Wan purred. He slid one leg between Anakin's thighs to pin him in place before he could wrestle free. The hand between Anakin's shoulder blades traveled to his nape. Anakin jolted in his hold, but he didn't offer resistance when Obi-Wan bent him over the couch.

"Last chance to go to your wife, my Padawan," he whispered in Anakin's ear, though he wasn't sure whether he would let Anakin go.

"I'm not leaving," Anakin repeated, stubborn as always.

Obi-Wan hummed.

"I wouldn't recommend that."

"Why? Because you love me? Because you want me?"

"Oh? Want you? Who said anything about wanting?"

Anakin chuckled, the sound dark, rich, and so disarmingly sweet. With Obi-Wan keeping him pinned over the back of the couch, his ass sticking in the air and cheek crushed against the cushions, Anakin had very little leeway. However, Obi-Wan had plastered himself against Anakin's back to reach Anakin's nape and keep him properly trapped.

Thus, Anakin needed only small aborted thrusts to press his ass against Obi-Wan's crotch. The sight was utterly charming. Hungrily, Obi-Wan watched Anakin's ass. The flaps of his leather tabard had fallen over his utility belt, giving Obi-Wan an excellent view. Clearly, Anakin tried to recreate the situation in the cockpit -- possibly for his own entertainment and Obi-Wan's humiliation. Unfortunately for Anakin, some awkward albeit very lovely grinding against his cock wasn't enough to get him hard. Certainly not when Anakin's ass mostly rubbed against his hips. After only a minute, Anakin went limp, obviously not getting the reaction he had angled for.

"Giving up?" Obi-Wan taunted.

Anakin tried to turn his head, but Obi-Wan only allowed enough movement so Anakin could glare at him from his periphery.

"Shut up," he snarled, instantly defensive.

Anakin loathed people watching him fail. Although Anakin's hackles rose at being perceived and judged, he loved the attention when he excelled at something. Anakin was so fond of admiration, going out of his way to show off when he knew he would look good.

"You are enticing, dear," Obi-Wan promised Anakin, rubbing the side of Anakin's throat with his thumb. "I assure you."

This was supposed to mollify Anakin. Instead, it made his temper flare. Anakin struggled in earnest, but Obi-Wan didn't yield a millimeter. Panting and hissing, Anakin had to give up.

"Why don't you show me how it's done if you're so much better at it, Master?" he snarled.

What was Obi-Wan supposed to do with Anakin? His boy -- the man, the traitor, the love of his life, and the bane of his existence -- wouldn't leave him alone when he demanded it. Yet he didn't want Obi-Wan to see too much either.

Sighing, he leaned closer to Anakin's head, vaguely apprehensive of a headbutt against his chin. Anakin didn't shift, lying limply over the couch.

He had dreamed about Anakin countless times. Occasionally, these dreams had taken a more suggestive or downright filthily explicit turn. This scenario could have been a dream.

It wasn't.

When Obi-Wan pressed a kiss against Anakin's throat, right where his fingertips ended, it was real. Anakin's skin was warm under his lips, tendons shifting as Anakin gulped. Obi-Wan suckled on the skin, applying sharp suction before peppering the skin with soft kisses.

He tasted sweat and ashes on Anakin's skin as he worked his way deeper into the crook of Anakin's throat. He paused when he found Anakin's pulse point, Anakin's pulse thundering against his tongue.

This wasn't ruthless or angry or frantic.

Anakin was so meek under him, only baring his throat to give Obi-Wan better access, appearing to want this. Anger or hatred would have been easier. When Anakin was so docile, Obi-Wan instigated. He made a deliberate choice when he kissed Anakin's pulse point, so relieved that Anakin was alive.

A soft sound escaped Anakin, only audible because Obi-Wan's face was buried in the crook of Anakin's throat. A shudder ran down Obi-Wan's spine as the softest gasp registered. Focus narrowing to the spot that had elicited a reaction, he scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin, nipping sharply.

"Ah," Anakin moaned, sounding like Obi-Wan had gutted him. Under him, Anakin squirmed, his hips twitching. Obi-Wan shushed him, his breath fanning against the column of Anakin's throat, which drew another gasp from Anakin. Red bloomed already, painting such a pretty picture when Obi-Wan withdrew his face from Anakin's throat. Dark greed settled in Obi-Wan's stomach, hot and dense, spilling lower and lower. He dove back, soothing the irritated skin with his tongue.

A hand grabbed his tabard, tugging Obi-Wan closer. With Anakin's other arm twisted behind his back, he had only one free hand, and he chose to cling to Obi-Wan.

"I'm not going anywhere," Obi-Wan promised, nosing Anakin's jawline as he spoke. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Master," Anakin whined, tugging harshly. It was the only leverage he had, and Obi-Wan wasn't cruel or strong enough to deny Anakin.

He never had been. Never could.

He kissed Anakin's throat, admiring the beard burn and red marks that would darken if Obi-Wan worried them more. Gentler, desperate to leave bruises but unwilling to hurt Anakin in the process, he kissed the marks and beard burn, laving the irritated skin with his tongue, saliva smoothing the drag of his tongue.

Under him, Anakin bucked his hips and mewled. He was so desperate for it. His hand slipped from Obi-Wan's tabard. It flopped to the couch cushion, where Anakin's fingers clawed at the rough fabric. Anakin's bucking gained purpose, turning rhythmic, and did Anakin hump the couch? Awed, Obi-Wan straightened, looking down at Anakin. As the weight of Obi-Wan's body disappeared, Anakin stopped rutting. Anakin's body was simultaneously relaxed and stiff with tension. Even without Obi-Wan's chest covering Anakin's back, Anakin didn't try to stand, hanging limply.

How long would this surrender last?

Obi-Wan massaged the wrist of the arm he held bent behind Anakin's back. What would happen if he released that hand? Gently, he let go of Anakin's hand. Briefly, Anakin tensed, then, reluctantly, he let this hand fall to the couch cushion, too.

Anakin had always struggled with waiting, patience an afterthought in the chaos of his world. Oh, this sugar-sweet docility wouldn't last much longer, and Obi-Wan was hungry for Anakin's bite.

"What are you waiting for?" Anakin snarled. Ah, there he was. That was better.

Exercising patience and mindfulness had always been difficult for his Padawan. Obi-Wan wanted to test the limits of Anakin's patience, to edge him until he had a good reason to cry.

"Patience, Padawan," he instructed, refraining from reaching for Anakin because he wanted to see what Anakin would do. Part of him had suspected that Anakin would stand to try and wrestle Obi-Wan on the couch.

Instead, Anakin whined.

"Was that a whine?" Obi-Wan blurted. He stared at Anakin's nape with disbelief, wondering if he had imagined the sound. High-pitched, reedy, breaking on Anakin's desperation.

Now, Anakin tried to stand. Since Obi-Wan still stood between Anakin's thighs, his hips pressing into Anakin's ass, it took only a nudge from his hip to have Anakin collapse over the back of the couch again.

Anakin had never enjoyed humiliation. He wouldn't understand that Obi-Wan didn't poke fun at him. He wouldn't recognize that Obi-Wan was delighted -- or he would misconstrue Obi-Wan's intentions if he did. Anakin was overthinking, the gears in his mind running so fast they sparked. The Darkness wouldn't help. It fed Anakin's paranoia in a feedback loop that only encouraged lashing out violently.

Obi-Wan curled over Anakin's back, kissing one of the reddish spots on his throat, the one that would be a hickey.

"May I recommend less thinking?" he murmured against Anakin's throat.

Anakin's scoff made the tendons in his throat shift under Obi-Wan's lips, and Obi-Wan couldn't help nipping, right over that spot he had already worried oversensitive.

Anakin keened and squirmed, panting when he finally managed to retort. "You always tell me I should think more, Master."

"Clearly, I was wrong," Obi-Wan said. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. I reckon you've been doing a lot of thinking, Anakin. I believe you have been a very busy man while I was on Utapau."

"That's unfair!"

"Is it?" Obi-Wan asked, and he couldn't help sucking sharply on Anakin's throat. "And why would that be, Anakin? Because from my point of view, you killed my family."

Anakin sobbed.

"They're my family, too," he warbled. "I didn't mean to, Master. You weren't there for me."

"I know it's my fault," Obi-Wan said, kissing Anakin's throat with reverence and remorse.

"Stop doing that," Anakin bellowed, trying to elbow Obi-Wan in the stomach, hissing, snarling, and sobbing in his anger. "I killed them."

An acknowledgment. Obi-Wan rested his forehead against Anakin's shoulder, breathing Anakin's smell.

"You did," he agreed. With a last kiss against the leather of Anakin's tabard, he stepped back, releasing Anakin fully. It appeared that it was time to talk, though this wasn't a conversation Obi-Wan wished to have.

It couldn't be constructive while thinly veiled, barbed accusations rested on his tongue. Reluctantly, he stepped back, putting more distance between them.

Anakin spun on his heels, his upper lip pulled back.

Oh.

Obi-Wan wasn't prepared for Anakin lunging at him. Briefly, he was lost in Anakin's eyes, which were red from the irritation of their transformation and the tears clumping his eyelashes together. Thus, Obi-Wan realized Anakin would fight far later than the first signs had presented themselves. Anakin looked lost and panicked, which was a far cry from the power high he had been on when they fought on Mustafar. Yet, the desperation and violence bleeding into the Force were the same.

Obi-Wan's gaze was drawn to the marks decorating the side of Anakin's throat. Coupled with those wet eyes, Anakin painted a gorgeous, devastating picture. Obi-Wan was distracted in a fight he would always lose.

He staggered a step back when Anakin slammed into him, Anakin's fists already swinging. Obi-Wan didn't understand why things had turned violent. He could only weather the storm until it passed. Anakin launching himself into Obi-Wan's arms was a mistake, though. Anakin acted on impulses, no longer considering the ramifications of his actions.

"I taught... Ugh... I taught you to fight-- Dank farrik, Ah-nakin. Stop trying to knee me in the balls."

Anakin fought dirtier than he otherwise would, too. Yet, by plastering himself to Obi-Wan's chest, he gave himself no room. Obi-Wan swiped Anakin's ankles underneath him. Since Anakin clung to Obi-Wan while trying to hit and knee him without any coordination, Anakin lost his footing immediately.

With a grunt, he shoved Anakin back, aware that the extra distance between them was in Anakin's favor. In a brawl, Obi-Wan's experience and sturdier physique would outweigh the benefit of Anakin's superior height. If they wrestled, Obi-Wan was guaranteed to win. Putting distance between them, however, turned the situation too close to a duel. At least, neither had their lightsabers. Furthermore, Anakin foamed at the mouth with irrational, senseless fury that blinded him.

"I hate you," Anakin hissed, standing hunched, his hands balled into fists. Yet, he didn't move. Their fight had paused for a good, old shouting match. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."

"Then, go back to your wife," Obi-Wan snapped, his voice echoing in the room, louder than he had intended.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore, Obi-Wan. I'm not your little Padawan anymore!"

"Then, I'm no longer your Master, Anakin."

Anakin froze, blinking at Obi-Wan.

"You're my Master."

How was he supposed to react when Anakin kept contradicting himself?

Sighing, he let his head fall back, staring blindly at the ceiling as he collected his thoughts.

"Just leave, Anakin. You should have left when I told you to."

"I don't want to," Anakin complained. "I don't have to listen to you, Master."

"Well, if that isn't an oxymoron," Obi-Wan sighed wryly, lowering his chin again. Automatically, his attention snagged on the marks on Anakin's throat. Some were fading while others hadn't changed at all. Those would be visible marks, and the knowledge was so gratifying. "I daresay I have a very comprehensive picture of the many, many things you do not like, dear. So, I think it's time to figure out what you do want, Darth Vader."

"That's not my name."

"Anakin."

This was getting them nowhere. Until, suddenly, it did. Sulking, scowling at Obi-Wan, and snapping with his teeth in a threat to rip Obi-Wan's larynx out, Anakin turned around. In a prowling saunter, Anakin returned to the couch. Throwing a glare over his shoulder, Anakin draped himself over its back demonstratively, sticking his ass in the air.

Bewildered and out of breath for reasons he shouldn't explore, Obi-Wan stared at Anakin's backside. Stunned, he shook his head, though Anakin couldn't see his disbelief -- or the hunger that had likely slipped on his face.

"Anakin, your wife..." Obi-Wan's voice trailed off. He didn't want to address Padmé. He wanted to crowd his boy -- his partner, his former Padawan, the one he loved the most, the only one left to love in the galaxy -- against the couch. He wanted to leave Anakin looking debauched. Then, there could be no doubt as to how they had spent their time. He wanted to leave a visible mark since the invisible claim of the Padawan-ship hadn't deterred poachers. No, it hadn't at all.

He had failed Anakin.

"She's no longer my wife. You ruined my marriage. It's your fault, Master."

Anakin had, beyond a shadow of doubt, ruined his marriage without any external assistance. Least of all assistance from Obi-Wan, who had supported this madness because he had prioritized Anakin's happiness.

"She won't take me back," Anakin added. "But you love me, Master. You won't leave me."

"No, I won't," Obi-Wan admitted softly.

On Mustafar, after promising he would do what he must, he had tossed his own lightsaber into the lava to catch Anakin. If he hadn't been able to let go while drowning in grief, there was no chance he would do so now. He would do what he must, but only for Anakin.

"You love me," Anakin repeated in that stubborn voice that revealed he wasn't as confident as he pretended to be.

Nevertheless, he didn't straighten from his pose. Anakin displayed uncharacteristic patience, not withdrawing his invitation when Obi-Wan remained silent.

Obi-Wan wanted.

A small jerk of his hips jarred Anakin. Confused, Obi-Wan tilted his head, watching Anakin repeat the movement. A third jerk followed with no explanation. Increasingly bewildered, Obi-Wan stared as Anakin turned the jerks into a rhythm. It took embarrassingly long for realization to dawn. And then it hit him with the grace of a speeder hitting a brick wall at top speed.

"Anakin?" he asked hoarsely, his voice cracking. After a pause, in which he wet his lips and cleared his throat, Obi-Wan ventured his best guess. "Are you humping the couch?"

That didn't sound sexy. The picture Anakin painted was dangerously sexy. Obviously, Anakin's movements were stilted and awkward. He was self-conscious, possibly fearing the humiliation of a rejection. It couldn't feel good either. Yet, Obi-Wan's stomach dropped in free fall regardless.

Anakin snorted.

"It would be better if you helped me, Master."

Each 'Master' was uttered pointedly, and Obi-Wan had the feeling Anakin wouldn't ever address him without the title again to make a point. How lucky that Obi-Wan was willing -- keen, really -- to indulge Anakin.

"Well then," he rasped. Time turned slow as he approached the couch, pushing between Anakin's legs before draping himself over Anakin's back.

Anakin had one cheek pressed to the cushions, twisted to watch Obi-Wan. The relief that passed over his face when Obi-Wan met his gaze was so sweet and heady that Obi-Wan had to lower his gaze. The side of Anakin's throat facing him was still unblemished. Obi-Wan buried his face in the crook of Anakin's throat, pressing feather-soft kisses to Anakin's throat.

He met Anakin's thrust halfway, grinding against Anakin's ass. Under him, Anakin jolted. Anakin's next roll of his hips was less controlled and clumsier. If Anakin didn't temper himself, he would dislodge Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan knew the complaining would begin again.

It was a good thing he thought this part of Anakin was charming.

He widened his stance to brace himself, accidentally kicking Anakin's legs wider. Apparently, Anakin had supported himself partly with his legs. He sagged over the couch. Without the leverage, he couldn't hump against Obi-Wan anymore. Obi-Wan snapped his hips forward, grinding against Anakin's ass.

Anakin moaned, tilting his ass to get more friction.

No one would stop them from acting on what they both wanted. No one. Nothing. The consequences had changed, though the price remained the same. Apparently, only the consequences had ever stopped Obi-Wan.

They no longer could.

He would take everything Anakin offered for as long as Anakin would give it, and he would make it so good for Anakin.

"Let's see what you like," Obi-Wan murmured against Anakin's throat.

"I already know what I like," Anakin grumbled.

Obi-Wan didn't doubt that. Anakin was a father to two adorable babies. He was an adult who had had plenty of opportunities to experiment. Besides, Anakin had always known what he disliked. Humming, he slipped his hands under Anakin's tunic and waistband to pet the hip bones pronounced under feverishly hot, velvety soft skin.

"Will you stay put when I step back?"

"I put myself in this position," Anakin reminded him impatiently.

Obi-Wan didn't roll his eyes as a rule, but the urge was there.

"And you did that very well," he praised as he stepped back. Anakin's retort, probably another snippy quip, turned into a squeak when Obi-Wan pulled Anakin's right boot off. He dropped the boot to the floor, where it landed with a loud thud. Methodically, Obi-Wan dealt with the second boot. Sticking to his word, Anakin squeaked and twisted but didn't scramble from the couch.

Obi-Wan made quick work of Anakin's pants and underwear, leaving him bare on the couch. Anakin's ass was perfect, the thick glutes tempting him to grab and squeeze. Filled with appreciation, Obi-Wan's gaze dragged over Anakin's long, muscled legs. They were so very long and gorgeous. Enchanted, Obi-Wan stepped between Anakin's thighs, the fabric of his tabard rubbing against Anakin's ass.

Pressed against Anakin's core, he could look down at the cushions. Awkwardness, stubbornness, and nerves greeted him. A flush sat high on Anakin's cheekbones while his lips were bitten raw.

"That's a bad habit," he lectured reflexively, reaching for Anakin's abused bottom lip to free the flesh. Surprisingly, Anakin complied, letting his bottom lip go so Obi-Wan could smooth the flesh that was impressively red after all that worrying. "You know you'll regret this later," he chided. "Look at how irritated your lip is, Anakin."

Anakin rolled his eyes, having no compunctions about how juvenile or insolent the gesture was. It suited him too well.

"Are you planning to lecture me to--"

Obi-Wan rutted against Anakin's ass. Without Anakin's clothes as a barrier, Anakin's cock rubbed against the rough upholstery directly.

"Ow," he whined, sounding wrecked regardless.

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin's hips, his thumbs resting right over the swell of Anakin's ass, to keep him steady. Intrigued, he stroked the skin, forgetting to thrust, absorbed in the heat and the muscles jumping under his hands. Despite Obi-Wan's tight hold, Anakin still managed to shift and grind against the couch, poorly stifling his whines as the friction abraded his erection.

Arousal bled into the Force, so thick it coated the back of Obi-Wan's throat. He shifted one hand to the small of Anakin's back, applying pressure to trap him against the couch despite knowing Anakin wouldn't move. With his other hand, he opened the pouch on his utility belt to retrieve the emergency Bacta gel he had stashed there.

Anakin's eyes widened as Obi-Wan dropped the sachets on the cushion in his field of vision.

"Oh," he said thinly.

"Oh?" Obi-Wan echoed gently, petting Anakin's spine. "Do you not--"

"Don't you dare," Anakin threatened, glowering at Obi-Wan. "Don't you dare, Obi-Wan. Master Obi-Wan."

"Will you call me your Master every time you address or mention me? Not saying something out loud doesn't erase it from existence. I'll still be your Master. Unless you no longer want me, of course. Which does appear to happen regularly, come to think of it."

Anakin huffed. Pointedly ignoring Obi-Wan, he took one of the packages.

"Careful," Obi-Wan warned, but Anakin had already used his teeth to rip the package open. Gel spilled from the mauled sachet, coating Anakin's lips. Bacta gel glistened on Anakin's lips when he grinned wildly at Obi-Wan, so sure of his victory despite the rather clumsy execution of his latest act of insubordination.

Another lecture died on Obi-Wan's tongue, his thick swallow taking the reminder that this was bad for his teeth. It settled heavily in his stomach when Anakin's face wrinkled in disgust.

"Don't," he croaked when the tip of Anakin's tongue darted out to lick the bacta from his lips. "Let me."

He swooped in, brushing his lips over Anakin's. The gel had turned Anakin's lips cold and slippery. Finally, after staring at them for years, Obi-Wan could taste Anakin's plush lips. Obi-Wan marveled at how soft and yielding they were as he kissed the bacta from Anakin's lips.

Anakin responded eagerly, his tongue running over the seam of Obi-Wan's mouth, undoubtedly licking up more of the bacta gel, as unconcerned with his own health as usual. Obi-Wan, however, did worry about Anakin's health.

"Stop doing that," he ordered, not bothering to move his lips. Then, to curb the insolence he could feel brewing in Anakin, he trapped Anakin's bottom lip. Blindly, he searched for the bacta sachet, finding Anakin's fist covered in bacta while his fingers clenched around an empty package.

Obi-Wan snorted. Against his lips, Anakin squeaked and grumbled, clearly offended by Obi-Wan's amusement. Anakin tried to gnaw on Obi-Wan's lips in retaliation. Retreat was the best option, so Obi-Wan lifted his head a few centimeters.

Anakin stared at him, his expression creased in desperation and eyes so heavy-lidded, Obi-Wan couldn't be sure Anakin actually saw him.

He covered the back of Anakin's hand with his, using his fingers to tease the empty satchel from Anakin's fingers. Anakin's fingers went lax immediately, letting the crumpled plastic go. His eyes had gone wide, showing off his blown pupils, his bacta-slick lips parted, and his brows furrowed. It wasn't an expression Obi-Wan had ever seen on Anakin's face.

His guts twisted sharply. Swallowing thickly, he stared at Anakin's face, drinking in the open need in Anakin's expression. His fingers flexed around Anakin's, whose fingers twitched against the pressure. Both their hands were covered in more bacta than this operation could ever need.

Obi-Wan guided Anakin's hand lower, surprised that Anakin let him so readily. A second before their hands wrapped around Anakin's cock, Anakin squeaked. Instantly, Anakin tensed under him, tauter than a strung bow.

"Ah," Anakin sighed when their hands wrapped around his cock. Rather than relaxing, Anakin recoiled slightly, grinding against Obi-Wan. Then, he slumped forward again, his cock sliding through the slick ring of their fingers. Obi-Wan guided their hands, setting a rhythm, tightening their hold to give Anakin more pressure. Each time Anakin's cock scraped over the couch despite Obi-Wan's attempt to keep his hips away, he jolted and produced a stifled, pained sound.

"Planning to rub yourself raw?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes," Anakin challenged him after another yelp, sounding too strangled to be intimidating. "Stop holding back, Obi-Wan."

"Then, don't mind if I do," Obi-Wan murmured, snapping his hips forward, pressing Anakin against the couch. It was cruel, far too cruel, and Obi-Wan regretted hurting Anakin over a snippy comment.

Anakin hiccuped under him, letting the sweetest, pained, reedy gasp slip, and Obi-Wan swallowed his cooing. Instead, he changed the circle of his hand so he could rub the bacta on the pad of his thumb over the sensitive head of Anakin's cock. He pressed more kisses against Anakin's throat, targeting the marks he had already left, which were a map of the spots that drew those jerky thrusts from Anakin. His other hand tightened around Anakin's waist, guiding his hips away from the couch.

"Please," Anakin begged.

"I will," Obi-Wan promised. "Don't beg, Anakin. I'll give you anything."

Anakin was precariously balanced, but he no longer ground against the rough upholstery, and the pained sounds stopped in favor of grunts, moans, and a loud sob. Obi-Wan startled, heat pooling low in his guts at the first sob.

"Anakin?"

"I'm fine," Anakin blurted, talking too fast, his voice wet. Oh, the tightening in Obi-Wan's pelvis, the heat pulsing through his cock, making him throb, was damning. Obi-Wan withdrew his head from Anakin's throat to confirm that Anakin's eyes were suspiciously glossy. Pleasure had stolen their focus. However, they were wet with tears, too. Anakin chewed vigorously on his bottom lip, blinking frantically, which only helped a tear escape.

Was Anakin fine as he claimed?

The galaxy stopped expanding as the tear rolled down Anakin's flushed, sweaty cheek to his bacta-slick lips. The pink nub of Anakin's tongue darted out to catch the tear, tempting Obi-Wan to steal the second tear threatening to escape. His hips snapped forward against Anakin's ass, his cock sliding between the glutes, which parted as Obi-Wan ground with more force. Anakin's rutting sped up, the bacta coating their hands and Anakin's cock squelching. While Obi-Wan's hand matched Anakin's pace, Anakin's hand dropped.

Soft moans poured from Anakin's lips, and it was so obvious he tried to mute them. Yet, he forgot when Obi-Wan twisted his thumb or when he rubbed the vein pulsing on the underside of Anakin's cock.

A shudder ran through Anakin's body as he came with a high-pitched moan that broke on a sharp gasp. Immediately, all the tension drained from Anakin's body, while his hips were still too far from the couch. By a miracle, though it meant releasing Anakin's cock, Obi-Wan managed to slip his arm under Anakin's stomach to catch his weight. This removed the only stimulation on Anakin's cock as he came.

"What are you doing?" Anakin asked weakly, "Obi-Wan."

His Padawan tended to whine, but he had never sounded so whiny. It was unbearably sweet. Supporting Anakin's weight with one arm, he moved his other hand back to Anakin's cock, stroking him through his orgasm, shushing when Anakin complained petulantly, his speech too slurred to make out more than vibes.

"Should I make it up to you? Obi-Wan asked Anakin, wishing he had a hand free to stroke the curve of Anakin's spine, silently awed by Anakin's flexibility.

"The least you can do," Anakin grumbled, but he sounded too content, evidently turning lazy after orgasming.

"Well, I can't have you feeling unloved, now can I?" Obi-Wan mused.

"I know you love me," Anakin drawled.

Although it was true, Obi-Wan remained silent.

"You do love me, Master," Anakin repeated, a thread of insecurity sneaking into his voice, his hesitant inflection turning his taunt into a question. Rather, it had always been a question, but Anakin had tried to hide the insecurity behind an attitude as usual.

Typically, the act was more convincing. Now, Anakin was transparent. Especially when he wiggled in Obi-Wan's hold.

Hadn't Obi-Wan already silently admitted this? Hadn't Padmé thrown a confession in his face? Never mind that he had never uttered the words. Ultimately, he had never wanted to admit anything.

"I do love you," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "This is not a good thing, Anakin."

Obi-Wan swallowed the remainder of his confession.

But it was inevitable.

Nothing about falling in love or lusting after his former Padawan like a lecher was inevitable. Obi-Wan had done that himself. And now his hard cock, its head an irritated red, rested on the swell of Anakin's ass. It was filthy and highly inappropriate; it would turn Obi-Wan sick. However, he was also desperate with need.

"It is," Anakin disagreed.

It really wasn't.

Anakin curved his back, contorting himself into an impossible position over the back of the couch. Before he could settle, he hissed and mewled, jerking away from the couch to escape the rough fabric rubbing his oversensitive cock raw.

Plush meat engulfed Obi-Wan's cock as the cheeks of Anakin's ass parted around his cock, the head sliding over the furled skin.

"Oversensitive?" Obi-Wan rasped. He ripped his gaze away from Anakin's entrance to steal a glance at Anakin's cock. Bacta and come coated Anakin's flaccid cock. The thick layer of slick and come couldn't hide how chafed Anakin's shaft was. The head was equally red, which wasn't solely from orgasming. Wincing in sympathy, he pulled his hand away. A strand of come connected them for a second. Then, the glob dropped to the floor, joining the mess they had already made. Anakin's come had splattered against the back of the couch and the floor.

"Not at all," Anakin denied without missing a beat. "Can't keep up, Master? Is it your old age?"

Well, if Anakin was going to goad him, it would be in bad taste if Obi-Wan refrained.

"Are you worried that you'll be dissatisfied?" Obi-Wan asked. Before Anakin could give him another witty answer, he ran the fingers of the hand covered in bacta and come over Anakin's perineum, leaving a trail of the viscous gel, warmed from stripping Anakin's cock. Albeit a temporary one, this was another mark that Obi-Wan couldn't help but rub into the skin. Slowly, hypnotized by the sight, he petted the skin between Anakin's balls and his entrance, feeling each tremor and twitch running through Anakin via the arm braced under Anakin's stomach.

"Ticklish?" he murmured absentmindedly.

"No," Anakin gasped.

So, Anakin liked the petting enough to turn into putty, then? Did Anakin realize he was feeding Obi-Wan's ego? On the next stroke, Obi-Wan didn't stop when he reached Anakin's entrance. Instead, he pressed his thumb against the furled skin, watching it stretch around his finger.

In his arm, Anakin jerked forward.

"Too much?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Not enough."

"Are you pouting?"

A calculated silence followed during which Obi-Wan could sense the gears in Anakin's mind run slowly. Anakin was surprisingly coherent after orgasming, but Obi-Wan would take care of that. He would take Anakin apart until he couldn't stop crying, until he choked on his sobs, too drunk on pleasure to be coherent.

"Yes?" Anakin offered hesitantly after his long deliberation. Clearly, Anakin had sensed that Obi-Wan was partial to his petulance. An odd taste, Obi-Wan agreed. However, he wouldn't like it in anyone else.

It was just Anakin's sulking that endeared him to Anakin.

Perhaps he was relieved that the war hadn't stolen that from his Padawan. Or he was happy that Anakin still trusted Obi-Wan with his endless complaining, that he depended on Obi-Wan in that context.

"I'm not sure I believe you," Obi-Wan said.

"You never trust me!"

Their banter was quickly unraveling into something more malicious. Obi-Wan's cock was still hard, and the only wrestling he wanted to see was the sort where he impaled Anakin on his cock. He had planned to open Anakin slowly, teasing his rim until Anakin begged for it. Instead, he slipped his bacta-slick middle finger past the rim, meeting faint resistance as he buried his finger to the knuckle.

All Anakin's anger evaporated on a long wheeze. Anakin's body clenched down on his finger, his inner walls rippling to drive out the intruder. This was only a finger, but Anakin acted like Obi-Wan had split him apart on his cock.

From the couch, he heard muffled groans, probably forced from Anakin as the muscles resting on Obi-Wan's arm flexed and contracted. His entire body reacted to the single finger in his ass. It was a picture unlike anything else.

"Look at how you take my finger," he whispered, watching Anakin's red rim clench around his finger, creating the illusion he tried to suck Obi-Wan's finger deeper. While Anakin was still out of breath from the intrusion, Obi-Wan set a quick rhythm. He pulled his finger back until only the last joint was buried inside Anakin's ass. As the rim flexed, he almost slipped free altogether.

Obi-Wan moved his finger again, burying himself in Anakin's heat, drawing the same reaction from Anakin. Was it due to the novelty of the sensation? Or would Anakin always react so fully without any abandon?

Anakin always experienced everything so deeply. Why would pleasure function by different rules? Obi-Wan's cock twitched, aching with pressure. The dull throb of his pulse in his fully erect cock bordered on painful.

Yet, he would take his time.

"I wish you could see how well you do," Obi-Wan said, not necessarily addressing Anakin. Still, Anakin moaned, trying to push higher on his feet to present himself better. "So good for me," Obi-Wan praised. Anakin's shifting gave him a better view of Anakin's entrance. However, Anakin's trembling legs indicated he wouldn't be able to keep this up for long.

Obi-Wan pressed Anakin closer to the couch again, forcing Anakin to bend further.

"Isn't that better?" he asked, nodding when Anakin moaned.

He set a quick rhythm with his finger, pressing against Anakin's inner walls, plying them open with the sort of unyielding, steadfast dedication that had helped Anakin through his lessons.

Gradually, Anakin's rim stopped clamping down, growing used to Obi-Wan's finger. Anakin himself, on the other hand, didn't stop moaning and gasping, his hips twisting to meet Obi-Wan's knuckles.

It would be a waste to let the bacta on his other fingers dry before it could be used. Obi-Wan retreated until only the tip of his middle finger kept Anakin's rim open. The pause in the rhythm drew a quizzical sound from Anakin.

"Master, why-- oh!"

Anakin was loud, far too loud, when Obi-Wan slid his index finger along with his middle finger, forcing both past Anakin's rim. Anakin's rim and body seized. Anakin's rim clamped down on Obi-Wan's two fingers, fluttering as it tried to drive them out. Meanwhile, Anakin melted against the couch and Obi-Wan's arm with a long moan that petered off into panting.

Without faltering, Obi-Wan fed Anakin more of his two fingers, letting them slide deeper, feeling Anakin's inner walls rearrange themselves around his fingers. They would feel so good around his cock.

"Is two fingers too much, dear?" he coaxed, shocked by his own triumph. "Can you take it for me, dear heart?"

"Uh-- uh."

Anakin's moans were loud and deep, vibrating against the arm Obi-Wan kept under Anakin's stomach, growing more guttural the deeper Obi-Wan's fingers slid. Finally, he was as deep as he could go.

Patience was the name of the game, but Obi-Wan couldn't help trying to scissor his fingers to gauge Anakin's reaction. Anakin jolted, but with Obi-Wan's fingers buried to the knuckles inside him, there was nowhere to flee. A sob replaced the moans.

Fire licked Obi-Wan's guts as he heard that first sob, arousal pooling densely in his pelvis. Unprepared for the heat twisting his guts, his fingers slowed, pulling more sobs from Anakin. Were they distressed noises? Ignoring the pulse of desire and the perverse pleasure he found in Anakin's gasped sobs, he stopped scissoring his fingers, resuming the thrusts with his two fingers kept together to help Anakin adjust.

However, Anakin's sobs didn't stop. On each deep thrust, Obi-Wan teased more from Anakin, the desperate noises stroking a part of his brain that wanted to go faster, that needed to see Anakin wrung dry. Vaguely concerned and deeply troubled by his body's reaction, he leaned over the couch to gauge Anakin's expression.

Oh.

Every muscle in Obi-Wan's abdomen tensed at the picture that greeted him. Anakin looked debauched. He lay with one cheek on the cushion, the fabric by his mouth wet from his drool. His lovely, alarmingly red cheeks and glassy eyes gave him a feverish appearance. Unlike the Darkness, this fever turned him pliant, his expression empty as he sobbed and panted. Reassured that this was pleasurable for Anakin, Obi-Wan scissored his fingers again, his gaze briefly darting to Anakin's rim straining around the stretch, redder than ever.

Anakin shuddered, his eyelashes fluttering and another sob falling from his swollen lips. Twitches ran through his body, but Anakin appeared too lethargic to move, only shifting with Obi-Wan's fingers on a harsh thrust that drew a high-pitched sound, so different from his guttural moans, from Anakin's mouth.

Cautiously, Obi-Wan pressed a third finger against Anakin's rim, rubbing the muscle, trying to tease his way inside. His massaging transferred more bacta, which he pushed inside Anakin with his thrusting fingers, coating Anakin generously.

Anakin's rim didn't loosen magically. However, it did yield when Obi-Wan scissored his fingers to create space for the third finger to join. The third finger added weight and rigidity, causing Anakin to buck clumsily. Whether he tried to swallow Obi-Wan's fingers or escape them, Obi-Wan couldn't tell. His attention remained glued on Anakin's rim, which looked stretched to its limit.

Obi-Wan would have to be patient. His cock was bigger than his three fingers. However, he was confident that Anakin could take him. With three fingers thrusting inside Anakin, letting Anakin grow used to the intrusion, he started searching. Anakin's inner walls were velvety soft and so forgiving, so pliant under his touch. Yet, he couldn't find Anakin's prostate. He crooked his fingertips as he thrust, applying more pressure on Anakin's inner walls, certain he would find--

"Ah!"

Anakin's spine arched, his ass going higher, disconnecting Obi-Wan's fingers from the nodule he had found. Swallowing a curse, Obi-Wan crooked his fingers, locating Anakin's prostate again.

As he dug his fingertips into Anakin's prostate, he glanced over the back of the couch. While Anakin's eyes were closed, his mouth was wide open. Tears clumped his eyelashes together, glittering in the light. Anakin looked so overwhelmed. Studying Anakin intently, Obi-Wan withdrew his fingers, waiting a beat before plunging them back, hitting Anakin's prostate.

Anakin writhed on his fingers. A new tear ran down his flushed cheek. Finally, those golden eyes opened, possibly sensing the weight of Obi-Wan's hungry gaze.

There was no smart comment, not even a taunt in Anakin's expression. Obi-Wan only met desperation and a pleasure that twisted Anakin's expression until he looked like Obi-Wan tortured him instead.

Obi-Wan didn't slow his fingers, the eye contact turning the action real in a way the grip of Anakin's rim couldn't. While their gazes were locked, neither could deny what they were doing. Obi-Wan Kenobi could feel Anakin Skywalker's inner walls try to suck his fingers deeper. This was his Padawan, his best friend, his partner, the only one who he blindly trusted to have his back. And now, he knew how Anakin reacted to Obi-Wan touching his prostate.

This was Anakin under him.

Gently, far more careful than he had been so far, he petted Anakin's prostate, keeping the touch light. On the couch, Anakin's expression contorted, more tears running down his cheek.

"Did I ever tell you that you're beautiful?" Obi-Wan asked in a moment of weakness. Oh, he was drunk on desire. He would say anything to bury himself in Anakin.

A lie. Because it was the truth.

"The most gorgeous being I have ever met," he added, lost in his contemplation, his fingers moving mechanically. "Beautiful."

Anakin sobbed louder, squirming on Obi-Wan's fingers.

"I can take you, Master," he promised.

Obi-Wan tested the give of Anakin's rim, scissoring his three fingers. He should give Anakin more time. Anakin didn't know what he asked for. As Anakin's Master, he should be responsible.

"Are you sure?"

Anakin nodded without lifting his head from the cushion.

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. A better man would refuse and explain that Anakin would experience more pleasure if Obi-Wan stretched him properly. Enough time had passed that Anakin was no longer loose-limbed from his previous orgasm, though he remained so pliant and relaxed under Obi-Wan. Slowly, still repeating a thousand reasons why he shouldn't in his mind, Obi-Wan withdrew his fingers.

After stretching Anakin, Anakin's rim gaped, winking without fully closing, giving Obi-Wan a glimpse of soft pink inner walls.

Anakin writhed on the couch, moaning at the sensation. Obi-Wan rubbed his hand over his cock, slicking himself with what remained of the bacta and Anakin's come. Dissatisfied with the results, he grabbed another sachet from the couch, ripping it open with his teeth while Anakin couldn't see him. The sharp scent of aloe vera and disinfectant filled the air, drowning out the smell of sex.

Of course, the gel was cold against his cock, especially when the lack of physical stimulation had left him sensitive. Obi-Wan hissed at the temperature difference. Before he lathered Anakin's rim with what remained, he rubbed the gel between his fingers in a rushed, half-hearted attempt to warm the gel.

Anakin's rim parted without resistance around his fingertips, stretched well enough to clench minimally.

"If I hurt you," Obi-Wan prefaced, "you have to stop me."

His voice rasped in his throat, and Obi-Wan didn't know whether he believed his own words. He wrapped his hand, thoroughly covered in bacta, around his cock to guide himself.

First, he rested the head of his cock against Anakin's rim, watching the furled skin twitch under the contact.

"Don't tense up, dear. Stay relaxed," Obi-Wan instructed hoarsely. "Stars, you're so gorgeous."

On cue, Anakin tensed, his rim clenching shut.

Hoping that a gentle nudge would be enough, Obi-Wan applied pressure, the head of his cock pressing against Anakin's rim with intent. Although Anakin never listened, the pressure sapped all the tension from Anakin's body.

"Tell me more," Anakin sighed as he went lax, melting into a puddle of praise-hungry Fallen Jedi.

Obi-Wan pressed onward, increasing the pressure, watching Anakin's rim resist and strain as it stretched taut. Then, with a snap of his hips, the head of his cock popped past Anakin's rim.

The heat and tight clutch of Anakin's body tested the limits of his self-control. Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan forced himself to go slow, to sink deeper gradually. Every second of this slow descent was maddening, Anakin's inner walls flexing around him.

It felt like feeding Anakin that first finger.

However, now it was his cock, and Obi-Wan would die a happy man if he could stay buried deep in Anakin forever. Until Anakin's body was molded to his permanently. Anakin gasped and sobbed under him, his back arched, visibly overwhelmed.

Buried halfway in Anakin, Obi-Wan stopped, giving Anakin time to adjust.

"So big," Anakin babbled. "Can't believe you're so big. Master. Feel it in my stomach. Can't breathe. Master. So big."

Each word twisted Obi-Wan's guts another degree, turned the pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach solid. Panting as the arousal burned through his oxygen, he couldn't answer Anakin. With a grunt, he pulled back, setting a slow rhythm, not going deeper as he waited for Anakin to adjust.

Anakin's babbling morphed into happy sighs, reedy noises, and those deep, guttural moans.

Taking this as his sign that Anakin was ready, Obi-Wan sheathed himself in Anakin without pause. He only stopped sinking deeper when he physically couldn't. His hips rested against the swell of Anakin's ass. Hungrily, Obi-Wan watched Anakin's rim, which was stretched around the base of his cock, stretched so far it didn't flex anymore.

Anakin twisted, but Obi-Wan tightened the arm curled around Anakin's waist, trapping Anakin on his cock.

"So beautiful," he murmured, running his index finger over the seam, where Anakin had invited Obi-Wan inside his body. "I wish you could see how stretched you are around me."

Anakin mewled.

Obi-Wan moved his hips back, watching Anakin's rim drag past his shaft, trying to stall his retreat. With only the head buried inside Anakin, unwilling to slip out altogether, Obi-Wan drove back with a snap of his hips. Anakin jolted and sobbed under him, clawing at the couch. Fabric ripped as durasteel fingers shredded the upholstery.

Again, Anakin's rim was stretched to its limit, and if Obi-Wan didn't starve, he could have stood here for longer, admiring Anakin taking him so well and barely at the same time.

"You're so good. You feel exquisite, dear. Do you know what it does to me when you milk me? They flex around me, trying to keep me deep inside you. Do you want me to stay? To keep you stretched for me?"

The words poured from Obi-Wan's lips.

"You look so pretty when you cry," he gushed when he managed to tear his gaze away from Anakin's rim. Anakin looked debauched with tears and snot on his face, crying as Obi-Wan thrust into him.

Obi-Wan hadn't had a partner who had cried in pleasure before. He was a sick man for wanting to see more tears, for wanting to lick them from Anakin's face while doting on him. Seeing Anakin so overwhelmed that he couldn't help crying was doing terrible things to his brain chemistry.

How was he supposed to come without wanting to see Anakin openly lost in the intensity of his pleasure in the future?

He thrust faster and sharper, rolling his hips to graze Anakin's prostate, Anakin's inner walls clenching around him when he hit the bundle of nerves. Anakin would tense each time, almost trapping Obi-Wan deep inside him while the muscles in his abdomen rippled, every part of Anakin's body caught in the throes of his pleasure.

Pleasure gathered in the small of Obi-Wan's back, his balls growing tight as momentum built.

"Can I come inside you, dear? Would you want that? Or would you prefer not to?"

Obi-Wan wasn't sure whether he still spoke grammatically correct Basic. He didn't particularly care either, as long as Anakin understood. No answer was forthcoming. Anakin looked dazed with pleasure, having gone completely limp, only moaning and panting. Even the crying had stopped as he lay on the couch.

If Anakin couldn't answer, he would have to pull out.

Obi-Wan's thrusts had turned into grinding deep inside Anakin, but now he slowly drew back, Anakin's inner walls clutching him, molding against him to try and stop him. Obi-Wan's thrusts and cock had coated Anakin in slippery bacta that squelched with every harsh thrust, so Anakin's inner walls milked him futilely.

"Don't go," Anakin slurred. "No."

That... That was an answer. Obi-Wan's conscience had evacuated somewhere, likely having very pointed opinions about this, but Obi-Wan didn't care. He sank deep again, setting a harsh rhythm chasing his pleasure.

"I'll make it good for you. Suck you off after. I'm close, Ah-nakin. I'll make it up. I am so sorry, my dear."

Under him, Anakin seized with a weak cry, his inner walls clamping down while his rim tensed, though this had such little effect after Obi-Wan had thoroughly fucked him.

Did Anakin come from Obi-Wan promising to take care of him by sucking him off? If Anakin let him, he would make Anakin see stars.

Anakin's come hit the back of the couch, mixing with his previous load. Compared to his first orgasm, there was so little of it, though. A few weak spurts before he sagged again, squeaking when Obi-Wan continued his harsh thrusts.

Anakin was oversensitive after coming twice, the second time from his ass alone.

"You are perfect," Obi-Wan whispered, awed by the realization. Anakin grunted, but he didn't stop Obi-Wan, letting Obi-Wan rut into him.

"I am," Anakin yawned.

Something about the sight tugged on Obi-Wan's heartstrings. Although the yellow eyes were a sign that everything had changed, Anakin looked so vulnerable and trusting, taking everything Obi-Wan dished out.

He pressed as deep as he could go. Obi-Wan came with a groan, the pleasure turning him boneless. He curled around Anakin's body protectively, holding him in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered against Anakin's shoulder, the confession slipping free in the heat of the moment. He was cock drunk, and drunk men had notoriously loose lips.

"I knew it," Anakin slurred, managing to sound both smug and drained.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan straightened, removing himself from Anakin's ass carefully, stroking Anakin's ass when Anakin winced at the drag. After coming twice and Obi-Wan opening his ass, he was undoubtedly extremely oversensitive and sore. Anakin's rim was red and puffy after taking Obi-Wan's cock. The muscle twitched, remaining slightly open after Obi-Wan slipped free.

Anakin would tighten again, so Obi-Wan drank the sight in, his stomach turning into a black hole as a glob of his come trickled from Anakin's twitching rim. Anakin produced a distressed sound, one of his hands covering his ass, a finger pushing the come back inside.

"You're... You're already sore, dear. I'll... We'll do this again later," Obi-Wan said, choking on the words, entranced by Anakin's finger trying to force Obi-Wan's come back into his ass.

"It's just uncomfortable if it gets everywhere," Anakin complained heatedly, helplessness in his voice. Clearly, he had acted on instinct, not even considering what he was doing.

"So, you would rather not have me come inside--"

Anakin didn't let him finish his sentence, straightening from the couch and turning on his bare feet. His hand shot out to Obi-Wan's throat, and Obi-Wan let him. Anakin wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's throat, but he didn't apply pressure.

This wasn't even a threat anymore. Those golden eyes had never intimidated him either.

Patiently, Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to collect his angry thoughts.

"You're mine," Anakin hissed. "You ruined my marriage, so you're staying."

That was not how it worked, but Obi-Wan was happy to go along with these mental acrobatics.

"Naturally," he said.

Anakin nodded grimly.

"You're staying forever, Obi-Wan. I'm not letting you go."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan agreed amicably.

Padmé gave them a long, hard look when they returned to the bedroom. Her gaze paused on the hickeys Obi-Wan had left on Anakin's throat.

If some small change, a statistical improbability, of reconciliation had remained after Anakin's violence, it disappeared in that second.

Perhaps Obi-Wan had ruined Anakin's marriage after all. In the sense that Anakin had beaten it down to a pulp, but Obi-Wan had delivered the finishing blow.

Their gazes met.

She had asked him for help, and Obi-Wan had had sex with her husband instead.

Anakin was docile as he watched the twins from Obi-Wan's side, though.

"So," Padmé said, drawing the word out. That was not a great start. "This is how we're going to do things on my ship."

【ＴＨＩＮＧＳ　ＹＯＵ　ＭＩＳＳＥＤ】

For his sake, you would do anything.

It has always been for his sake, even when you pretended otherwise.

The fuel station was a durasteel construction drifting in space. Completely manmade, with contributions from many different folks with wildly different visions.

They sat down on a rickety bridge hovering over space's void. The artificial gravity wasn't strong enough to anchor them should they fall.

Neither was particularly worried about falling, though.

Padmé's ship left after refueling, leaving them stranded on the fuel station with a promise and a threat. Rightfully, she was sick of them and didn't want them on her ship.

Anakin slumped sideways, their shoulders knocking as he draped himself against Obi-Wan's side.

They didn't have credits or a ship. All they had was a promise that Padmé would set up a visitation schedule. She was more generous than Obi-Wan had expected. Certainly more generous than etiquette required, considering the situation.

But Padmé had always been fair.

Above everything, she had valued integrity and mercy. Although she had compromised that moral code for Anakin, it was deeply ingrained in her.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked Anakin.

Anakin hummed. "Do you have a suggestion, Artoo?" he asked, passing the question along to the astromech droid behind them.

R2D2 whistled.

"Come on. Have a little faith," Anakin grumbled.

Obi-Wan could feel the corners of his lips twist into a smile that felt foreign on his face.

"I think we're going to be just fine," Anakin argued with the astromech droid.

【ＴＨＩＮＧＳ　ＹＯＵ　ＭＩＳＳＥＤ】

You love him.

You love him.

You love him.

He loves you, too.