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“I can help you,” Anakin begs through the closed door, like he has been since Obi-Wan suddenly jumped in the middle of a meeting and ran to lock himself in his cabin, leaving nothing but the scent of preheat in his wake.
Obi-Wan lets out a weak laugh. “Actually, you’re the only person on this ship who can’t help me.”
“You know very well that that is not true. This will be so much easier if you’re not alone, and I’m the only one on this ship who won’t try to bite you or knock you up.”
“I’m perfectly fine by myself.”
“Listen, I’m also the only one on this ship who could overpower you if you went too far, and I can feel how worried you are about that, just like I can feel how much effort it’s taking for you to not broadcast your heat. It’s just a matter of time until Ahsoka can feel it too, and if she gets territorial she’ll draw everyone else here.”
“I wouldn’t, Anakin,” he gasps with real shame and terror, “I won’t put anyone in that position. I wouldn’t do that to Ahsoka.”
Anakin punches the door in frustration. He’s never met anyone as stubborn as Obi-Wan, but in this situation it’s completely absurd. “You say that now, but sooner or later you’re gonna be begging anyone who walks past, and I’d rather be in there with you, with the door locked from the inside when that happens, and not fighting off all of our men and my own padawan out here.”
He gets nothing but silence in response, and leans his forehead on the cool durasteel of the door, just as he leans his force presence on Obi-Wan’s failing shields to feel out why he’s being so stubborn about this. He finds nothing but general apprehension.
“I’ll do it, Obi-Wan. I’ll stay out here for the next two days, fight Ahsoka, lock up every clone and pilot this ship by myself if I have to. If you’re so intent on torturing yourself. But… Please, just stop being stubborn for a second and think this through while you still can.”
He hears Obi-Wan sigh, feels his mind working quickly under the growing haze of heat. Not quickly enough though, and he slips into something that is barely more of a shallow meditation than napping standing up. He still has some stims in his belt, and he’ll probably need them if he really has to stay here, but he hopes it won’t come to that. They’ve barely slept in the last week, battle running into battle, bleeding into the next one, an endless barrage of droids attacking their camp, until they finally managed to destroy their factory and leave. It’s almost certainly why this is happening at all, stress heats have become worryingly common among jedi as the war goes on. Suppressants that worked perfectly well before are failing under the unprecedented levels of stress, not helped by being surrounded by thousands of alphas with identical scents all morphing into one, overwhelming at times, atmosphere. He can see the advantage of having an army of alphas, and he wouldn’t replace any of his men, but it is inconvenient, to say the least, in situations like these. He’s started going off his supressants to have controlled heats whenever he has a few free days on Coruscant to spend with Padme just so he can avoid this exact situation, but apparently Obi-Wan either hasn’t thought of that or just managed to convince himself he’d be fine pushing his body to the limit, like he usually does.
He’s working up energy to reach for his stims when suddenly he falls forward and is flooded with the scent of heat when he collides with Obi-Wan, who catches him so they won’t both fall over. Anakin has to take a moment to steady himself mentally when he finally takes him in. He’s shirtless, sweaty and flushed, somehow looking entirely different than he does in the same state when they’re sparring. And the scent, like sweet spring water, like grass steaming with dew, like an old forest waking up, pulls him in so strongly he has to plant his feet so he won’t fall forward again to bury his face in Obi-Wan’s neck. It shouldn’t be affecting him this much, other omegas rarely do, and it isn’t, not really, at least not physically. Mentally though, the knowledge that it’s Obi-Wan of all people, losing his carefully curated control, letting Anakin see him like this, letting him in to help when it gets to be too much, it’s— well, it’s pretty close to too much for Anakin already.
He reaches up to rub his forehead, sore where the door slid across it when it opened, then remembers the point of him being here, and locks the door behind him without taking his eyes off Obi-Wan, who’s looking at him with a small smile. Usually it would probably look condescending, but when combined with his blown wide pupils and the flush high on his cheeks it comes off as irresistibly inviting. Anakin somehow manages to resist, and they stand there staring at each other for an uncomfortably long moment.
“Well? You said you wanted to help,” Obi-Wan breaks the silence, smile widening slightly and one eyebrow arching.
“I… I did,” Anakin stutters, most of his mind focused on keeping his eyes on Obi-Wan’s face, instead of letting them follow the droplet of sweat sliding down his neck.
Obi-Wan holds his gaze for a while longer before turning away with a sigh.
“I see. Well, if you’re so intent on guarding the door I guess I’ll just… take the fresher.”
“What?”
“It was very kind of you to offer, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to help me. Like I said, I’m fine on my own and I can see you’re uncomfor-”
“I’m not,” Anakin cuts in, finally snapping out of his confusion and realising how it could very easily be seen as hesitation. “I’m not uncomfortable. Are you?”
“I’m uncomfortable with this entire situation, Anakin, I thought I made that clear.”
“Oh, I… I’m sorry for pushing,” he answers, shame swelling up in his throat like bile.
Obi-Wan sighs and sits down on the bed. “You were right to. This will be easier with help and that way I won’t draw any unwanted attention. I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I… I do want to. I’m…” I’ve thought about it before? He can’t say that. “I do.”
Obi-Wan gives him a long, appraising look, intent and focused despite his eyes slowly glazing over with heat, then a slow smile spreads on his face. “Come here then.”
Anakin stumbles forward, hypnotized, until he’s standing between Obi-Wan’s legs, nearly shaking with excitement as his hand hovers above Obi-Wan’s bare shoulder. Obi-Wan holds his gaze as he finally works up the courage to touch, then suddenly, for what feels like the first time ever, Obi-Wan’s patience runs out and he grabs his hips tightly, his scent blooming warm and full in the space between them, heat finally taking hold fully. His hand lands on Obi-Wan’s skin, almost burning under his touch and sticky with sweat, and Obi-Wan takes in a shaky breath, his head falling forward to rest on his stomach, projecting loudly such a tangled mess of need and shame that Anakin wraps his own shields around both of them, clumsily replicating what Obi-Wan has done for him so many times before, whenever the noise in his mind got too loud.
“What do you want?” Anakin asks softly, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles on Obi-Wan’s collarbone, when he hears him sigh in relief as the world goes quiet around them and his rolling mind is cut off from the countless alphas on the ship.
“You know perfectly well what I want,” he mumbles into Anakin’s tabards, without any shame, just a challenge, as obvious in his voice as it is in his shiny eyes when he pulls back and tugs pointedly on Anakin’s belt.
Intertwined as their minds are, he barely has to do anything to make his yes obvious. Obi-Wan smiles and unbuckles his belt, hands a bit clumsy with heat. It floats down gently to the floor, its fall cushioned by a thought from one, or maybe both of them, and his tabards follow much faster. Obi-Wan’s hands settle on his hips again, and he’s not sure if he pushed him down, or if he just dropped to his knees unprompted, but there he is, close enough to smell Obi-Wan’s slick, and again, he’s not an alpha, it shouldn’t be driving him this insane, and yet it is, and he can’t wait to get closer to the source. He barely remembers to get Obi-Wan’s boots off before he’s pulling his pants down and watching his cock spring up. He very nearly chuckles out loud. Of course he’d be unreasonably huge for an omega.
He keeps his eyes on Obi-Wan’s and his mind open to sense any hesitation as he leans down, but none appears and his lips land on Obi-Wan’s cock. He licks slowly up, then wraps his lips around the head, but warm fingers tangle in his hair and guide him gently off and down, to his dripping cunt. This, at least, he has some experience with, and he licks in eagerly, only spurred on by the sweet, fresh scent. Obi-Wan leans back, drawing one leg up onto the bed and Anakin wraps his hand around it, kneading his pale thigh gently with dark leather, pushing it to spread wider. Before long Obi-Wan is gasping loudly, and he brings his other hand up to shove two fingers alongside his tongue, rubbing his nose against the sensitive spot on the base of his cock.
His breathing gets louder, his thigh quivering under Anakin’s touch, until he manages to curl his fingers just right and feels Obi-Wan clench down, his body trying to milk a knot he won’t be getting, as he comes with the closest thing to a whine Anakin has ever heard him make. He holds still, despite his tongue tingling from the pressure, until Obi-Wan drags him up by the hair.
“I want…” He starts, staring at Anakin with the same wonder that must be written on his own face. “Can you fuck me?” He asks finally, then stares at him expectantly, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth, as pink and wet as his cheeks are. Anakin wants nothing more but to follow it with his own when it dips back out of sight, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, if that wouldn’t be seen as too romantic, unnecessary.
He focuses on what he is allowed instead. Can he? Does Obi-Wan really think this wouldn’t affect him? That he isn’t straining in his underwear, harder than he ever remembers being outside of heat? He finishes undressing clumsily, not taking his eyes off the image Obi-Wan makes, naked and splayed on the bed, crawling lazily back to lay on it fully, to make sure he’ll remember every detail. He expects Obi-Wan to turn over, but he doesn’t, just draws his knees up in clear invitation. And if Anakin felt overwhelmed before, it’s nothing compared to looking Obi-Wan straight in the eyes, their noses nearly touching once he settles between his legs.
He feels warm breath hit his lips when Obi-Wan whispers, “go on,” and says the same much louder in their minds.
So he slides in, slowly, trying not to feel self conscious about his, perfectly average for an omega, thank you, size. Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed when he bottoms out, his soft, pleased sigh and the way the storm in the force his heat was causing quiets down a bit, reassuring him, and when Obi-Wan tilts his hips up he moves to meet him halfway. It’s not that different from sparring, it turns out, they know each other’s bodies and minds so well their every thrust falls exactly right, as they move in perfect sync chasing the high of Obi-Wan’s heat that’s rising in the air once more.
“That’s good, Anakin, that’s perfect,” Obi-Wan keeps whispering, so softly he’s not sure if he said it at all, or just thought it, or if Anakin isn’t just imagining it.
He’s beginning to understand the look of amazement Padme wears when he’s in heat. Obi-Wan is so warm around him, so wet it’s loud in the small cabin, smeared halfway down their thighs, in a way a beta like Padme could never be. And oh force, Padme. How he’s missed her these past few weeks. He hopes the permission she gave him to ask someone for help if he went into heat while deployed extends to helping others too. He hopes Obi-Wan can be persuaded to join him for his controlled heats sometimes. Join them. There’s all these images floating in his mind, ideas, and he’s still so tired, his body moving automatically, without much conscious control on his part. He hangs his head down, resting his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, mouth open and pressed into his scent gland.
“You said you wouldn’t try to bite me,” Obi-Wan whispers, but there’s a fair bit of amusement in his voice, and if Anakin had the energy to open his eyes or lift his head he’d undoubtedly find him smirking.
“‘m not,” he mumbles into his skin, that fresh scent so much stronger this close to the source.
“Come on, roll over,” Obi-Wan says, or maybe warns, before flipping them so that he’s on top, and sliding back down.
The reality of the situation hits Anakin all at once with the distance between them. Now that he sees Obi-Wan, his master, toned stomach and strong thigh flexing as he impales himself on his dick, it gets impossible to ignore that Obi-Wan is impaling himself on his dick. And enjoying it, judging by the way his throat stretches when he throws his head back, the way he works his cock with a tight grip. Anakin feels torn from the quiet darkness of his mind, clouded by Obi-Wan’s scent, into the harsh light of the cabin, not letting him fade back into that easy, half asleep state, but instead dragging him towards the edge with every move of Obi-Wan’s hips.
“I… I’m not gonna last,” he stutters, painfully aware of his cheeks heating up in shame.
“Just a bit longer,” Obi-Wan gasps above him, “you can hold on, Anakin.”
And who is he to refuse, so he does hold on, thinking about anything but his pleasure, looking anywhere except at the place where Obi-Wan’s cunt clings to his dick each time he lifts himself up.
Until finally, with a sharp snap of his hips, Obi-Wan comes, and the quiet groan of, “good boy,” he lets out gives Anakin no choice but to follow.
He lets Obi-Wan ride out the aftershocks as long as he can stand the overstimulation, before finally whining low and pained through clenched teeth. It’s nowhere near as long as a knot would last, but it’s enough, judging by the pleased purr Obi-Wan lets out, collapsing next to him on the bed. The mess of drying slick on their thighs will have to wait, because even his delirious mind insistently reminding him that he made a mess too, one that’s probably starting to leak out of Obi-Wan, isn’t enough to make him budge.
He drifts in and out of consciousness, balancing on the very edge of sleep like he’s had to countless times since the war started, but never in circumstances this pleasant. What finally brings him back is the insistent press of Obi-Wan’s dick against his hip, moving slowly back and forth, as if he’s trying and failing to keep still. Anakin’s own dick lays soft and useless, incapable of keeping up with someone in heat. If he were an alpha the cocktail of pheromones Obi-Wan is radiating, not to mention the way his heat is spilling from his mind into the force, would have him ready in no time, but he isn’t, and the exhaustion isn’t helping.
“I guess it’s your turn,” he mumbles into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“You look like you’ll fall asleep halfway through,” Obi-Wan laughs in return. “What happened to guarding the door for two days?”
“There isn’t a warm bed out there,” he says, and before his mind fully catches up, he continues. “I might. Fall asleep, I mean. I wouldn’t mind though.”
“Wouldn’t mind… Oh,” Obi-Wan says, with a worried hiss of air through his teeth, though Anakin didn’t miss the way his dick twitched against his hip at the idea.
Part of him is mortified at having said it, but another is still just sleep deprived enough to push, to beg. Besides, when else would he get the chance to do this.
“I’m serious, you know,” he says, desperately trying to keep his tone casual. “You can do anything, just don’t leave this room,” he says, to avoid asking for what he wants directly.
It backfires when Obi-Wan pulls away and turns his head so he has no choice but to look into his eyes. “Anakin, the only reason you’re here is to stop me if I go too far.”
“That’s the point though, master. There’s nothing you could do that I don’t want,” he answers with that painful, unavoidable honesty that comes with long nights on little to no sleep.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs, somehow conveying a full sentence with nothing but his name. It’s truly a gift of his, and his worry and uncertainty and shame are even more obvious with how connected they still are.
“I… I do want it,” he powers through the embarrassment. “You’re practically in my mind already, you could just check.”
He tries not to think about it too forcefully, so it doesn’t look like he’s pretending, or hiding anything, and he feels Obi-Wan move gently through his mind, leaving behind him the sweet aftertaste of heat until he finds that desire, or maybe dream. And then he’s pulling back quickly, though not fast enough to hide his fascination from Anakin, or the way his hips shift again, with purpose this time.
“Anakin,” he whines again, and Anakin understands exactly what he means. What he needs.
“Later, yeah?” He asks with a smile, trailing a questioning hand up Obi-Wan’s thigh when he nods.
For now he can just hike Obi-Wan’s leg up to wrap around him, slide his fingers into his hole and curl them just right, keeping his hand still and letting him move however he wants, fucking himself back on his fingers and rutting against his hip until he comes, or Anakin drifts off from the easy rhythm, whichever comes first.
He dreams that he’s swimming. It took him a long time to get comfortable around water, and drowning still often appears in his nightmares. This isn’t that, though. That helpless fear isn’t there, even when his head dips below the surface, over and over. It feels almost playful, like the ocean itself is dragging him closer, then pushing him away. Down, then up. Back and forth. Swaying in the warm waves, body full and heavy with water, and…
And Obi-Wan’s dick, he realises, stretching him with all the immensity and unyielding, slow power of an ocean. His mind stays asleep a moment longer than his body, and for an instant he thinks this is still part of his dream. It wouldn’t be the first time this happened in them. But then he remembers asking for it, remembers the heat, the ship, the previous rounds. He gasps, and it comes out as a moan when the next thrust hits him just right, and before he’s had a chance to blink his eyes open, his chin tilts upwards and his lips catch the corner of Obi-Wan’s accidentally. He finally looks at him, finds eyes dark with blown pupils and shock mellowed by pleasure on a face he knows better than his own.
They stay like that, breathing the same air, dry lips barely touching each time Obi-Wan moves forward, until Anakin can’t stand it any longer and he leans in to kiss him properly, or as properly as he can manage half asleep. His skin is still so soft and sensitive, so relaxed, that every pull of Obi-Wan’s tongue, every drag of his dick inside his cunt feels unbearably strong, like his nerve endings are all responding at slightly different times, creating a neverending echo of pleasure. He groans and tilts his hips up, trying to give Obi-Wan, and himself a better angle. He wonders how long ago he started, how long he’d battled his own body before giving in and sliding between Anakin’s legs to take what he needed.
“I was wondering if you’d even wake up,” Obi-Wan whispers, his tone hungry and his voice rough and slurred with heat. “Or if I could make you come while still asleep. If I could take you more than once, until you were dripping with it, fuller than even an alpha could make you.”
Now, Anakin is definitely glad that he got over his hang ups, and this might be the nicest way to wake up he’s experienced in his life, but this new, undoubtedly heat delirium-fueled side of Obi-Wan might make him skip consciousness entirely and pass out from the sheer intensity of his heart beating faster with every whispered word. His own cock swells, and Obi-Wan notices immediately, smiles and slides his hands under his knees to hook them over his shoulders, bending him nearly in half as he moves faster.
This is what he meant earlier, when he said he was the only one who could stop Obi-Wan if needed. He knows this feeling well, that stage of heat where everything disappears except for the closest source of warmth, how his mind spins out untethered to drag everyone else’s desires to the surface. This is usually the moment when Padme’s pretty silver cuffs come out, keeping him down and under her control as she teases him with her most expensive custom made knotting toy. But he wasn’t lying. He really can’t imagine anything that Obi-Wan could want being too much for him now. In fact, he could handle a bit more, which he tries to convey both with very loud thoughts and starting to move his hips in time. Obi-Wan obliges with a growl, slamming hard into him, and turning his head to bite Anakin’s thigh, harsh and sharp, deeper than either of them should allow themselves when they need to be ready to fight at any moment. Although if the separatists attacked them right now he’s pretty sure he could end the war right then and there if only it would get him back into this bed faster. He’d rather they didn’t though, at least for a few more moments, because judging by his stuttering, uneven rhythm Obi-Wan is getting close.
And then, never breaking eye contact, Obi-Wan moves his hand up to rest his fingers gently on Anakin’s neck, applying just enough pressure to his gland to make him aware of it, while biting down on his thigh hard enough to break skin, in the barest approximation of a mating bite. It’s enough to make him come with a wail, his muscles tensing between Obi-Wan’s jaws, his cunt clenching stronger than it should be able to outside of heat, and apparently strong enough to push Obi-Wan to the brink too. His hips snap desperately forward twice more, his mouth open and stained with the faintest trace of blood, before he comes deep inside Anakin, filling him up as promised, or at least starting to, but they still have most of two days left.
This time he does attempt to wipe them clean, or at least dry, with his undertunic. They’ll need to get into the sonic at some point, call Artoo to bring them food, and probably put some bacta on his bite, and he suspects it’s going to be up to him, as the not heat-addled one, to make sure they stay alive, but for now he’s decided the responsible thing will be to get some rest, and he snuggles close to Obi-Wan. He falls asleep to the feeling of fingers brushing gently through his hair and the sound of a whispered “thank you.”