Archive of Our Own

“Ow! What the kriff?”

“What? What is it?”

Obi-Wan turned to shine his lightsaber in the direction of Anakin, who was gazing down at his flesh hand, with the glove pulled off.

“Something bit me,” Anakin grumbled, exasperated. “Probably one of those things the Wookiees told us would be in here.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head. “We were specifically told not to get bit by any nefarious creatures while searching this cave.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin huffed, sheathing his lightsaber. “Just help me with this, will you?”

Obi-Wan lifted his saber over the wound, catching the deep indents in an aquamarine light. Anakin ripped a piece of fabric off from the sleeve of his undershirt, and promptly wrapped it around the palm of his hand, tying it off at the end.

“Did you see what it was?”

“No, did you?”

“Blast it,” Anakin grumbled. He reignited his saber and turned around to look at the walls of the cave. “That thing couldn’t have gotten far!”

The two had been walking for a while in one of the various tunnels of Kashyyyk, in search of a disturbance inside one of the caves—not far from a Wookie settlement. Obi-Wan and Anakin looked at each other—the classic ‘what?'  floating between them in the Force—while Yoda enlightened them with the details of the mission. They weren’t entirely sure what kind of disruption could be so bad that even the Wookiees didn’t want to investigate.

‘A strong force disturbance, this may be,'  Yoda had said. ‘ Powerful enough to shake Wookiee bravery, this is. Sith treachery, perhaps.’

“Anakin, I don’t see anything,” Obi-Wan protested, and squinted his eyes at the damp, grimey walls. “I think it’s best that we head back to the ship, and treat your wound. After all, we don’t know what bit you, or how fatal it could be.”

Anakin let out a sound of frustration and looked at his makeshift bandage, “What about the mission?”

“Personally, I do not wish to carry your body if something happens to you while we’re in here,” Obi-Wan looked at his former Padawan’s face, awash with a blue glow. “We can always come back once we make sure you’re not at immediate risk of whatever could be in that bite.”

Anakin huffed and turned on his heels—Obi-Wan followed suit.

When they docked at the landing port earlier, there had already been a group of Wookiees awaiting their arrival. From what they could tell, only a few Wookiees had gone in prior to their visit, but they hadn’t gone far because of the overwhelming fauna; which, as they had been told, the Wookiees wanted nothing to do with. Obi-Wan couldn’t fathom how such strong, courageous Wookiees could be afraid of whatever just bit Anakin, as the bite mark was relatively small. Then again, they both hadn’t even seen what dealt the wound in the first place.

As the two of them neared the mouth of the cave, Anakin asked, “Don’t you think it’s strange that the Wookiees said there were a ton of nasty creatures in there, but we didn’t see a thing?”

“I do,” Obi-Wan answered. “But we may have not ventured as far as they did. Who knows how long they walked for.”

After approaching the group of expectant Wookiees that were waiting outside, the pair explained that they needed to get back to the ship in order to examine Anakin’s injury, which provided better lighting and proper medical equipment. Once they were in the Twilight, Obi-Wan ordered Anakin to sit down on the Medical Bay bench.

“This is ridiculous. I’ve taken worse damage before,” Anakin protested while he unwrapped the torn piece of fabric from his hand.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m not so sure this is something we should take lightly.”

Indeed, it wasn’t.

Anakin’s wound had healed almost entirely. There was a bit of dried blood on the sleeve wrapping; but other than that, the skin was completely healed over. Not quite like a scab, but as if the puncture wound had patched itself back together on its own, and left nothing but angry red marks in its place.

“What in blazes…?”

“Either I’m suddenly a really fast healer, or those things have some crazy power in their saliva,” Anakin shrugged.

“Incredible… I’ve never seen anything like it,” Obi-Wan squatted down to get eye level with Anakin’s hand. He extended his own—palm facing upward. “May I?”

“Um, sure,” Anakin swallowed. “Go for it.”

Obi-Wan gingerly took hold of the other man’s wrist and turned it over in his hands, gazing up and down the tan skin. On closer inspection, the angry red skin where the bite marks had been were beginning to turn purple, and small spider veins were branching out beneath the skin.

“Well, looks like it’s nothing. I never thought I’d say this, but can we get back to the mission so we can just get this over with, Master?”

“No, Anakin. Look at it,” Obi-Wan straightened up and returned Anakin’s hand to him. “These regenerative properties are far too great to ignore. We also don’t have the equipment here to run any sort of tests on you.”

He nodded toward the scanner beside Anakin’s head, which had been damaged in a previous escapade. Usually, the hologram of a medical droid would be their go-to in situations like this; but since they had been so busy running around the galaxy, Anakin had not found the time to tinker with it.

“It probably just looks like that because it’s bruising,” Anakin waved it off.

“Bruising doesn’t happen this quickly.”

“I can just put some bacta on it and it’ll be fine,” Anakin insisted, his voice edging on vexation.

“No, we need to get you back to Coruscant,” Obi-Wan raised his hand to thumb at his beard, and his eyebrows drew together in contemplation. “Although, putting bacta on it for the time being might not be such a bad idea.”

On the way back to the Jedi Temple, Anakin’s condition significantly worsened. Although it wasn’t obvious at first, it soon became clear to Obi-Wan when Anakin started sniffling more often, and the veins in his hand became a much deeper, more prominent shade of indigo. The spider veins developed into varicose, and had also spread to his wrist, which indicated the presence of an infection. Anakin tried to play it off—telling his former Master that they would just give him medicine at the Temple infirmary, or maybe a bacta soak for his hand, since it wasn’t that bad. Obi-Wan wasn’t buying any of it.

When the ship arrived at the Halls of Healing, Obi-Wan walked Anakin into the medical bay—who was somehow descending into even worse shape. His hair was sticking to his forehead as a sweat broke out on his skin, and a phlegmy cough now wracked his lungs. Anakin, of course, made an ill attempt to try and dissuade Master Che from shoving him into a bed, but ultimately lost the battle. Obi-Wan took the chair beside the infirmary bed—the seat Anakin originally bargained for.

“How long ago was he bitten, Master Kenobi?” Master Che asked as she began to run through tests on a datapad.

“Not long,” Obi-Wan answered. “Not even a full six hours, I’d say.”

“Has it really been six hours?” Anakin asked weakly, and coughed into his hand.

Master Che Anakin’s hand once she saw it, and turned it over in her grasp. Her eyes scrutinized the condition tightly—much like Obi-Wan had on Kashyyyk. Anakin’s entire hand was now a startling shade of red.

“Do you know what bit him?” She prodded.

“I can’t say,” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows drew up in concern. “I’m not sure the Wookiees knew what the creatures were either.”

Master Che nodded and placed Anakin’s hand back down on the bed beside him, “I have not seen something like this before under these circumstances. I will make sure to keep a close eye on Skywalker to monitor his condition.”

That was usually code for: you can leave me to my work now, and Obi-Wan was not one to protest against Master Che, even though he wanted to. She stepped out of the small space towards another part of the medical bay—most likely to check on another patient. At least she was kind enough to give them a minute, before coming back to shoo him away.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan stood out of his chair and leaned over the Jedi Knight.

“Yes, Master?” Anakin asked tiredly.

They looked at each other, and it took everything in Obi-Wan not to cling to his friend. He looked so pale, especially for someone with such rich, golden skin. The deep circles under his eyes were more prominent now, and his usual blue eyes seemed faded and distant. Even though Anakin was wearing a smile, he wasn’t doing a good job at hiding his fatigue.

“I’m going to find out what caused this,” Obi-Wan spoke softly, despite the tight, worried expression on his own face. “And I will figure out what can be done to heal you.”

Anakin noticed Obi-Wan’s agitated state, and stretched out his affected hand towards him—despite the protest of the wires, and the pull of the IV needle in his arm. Obi-Wan hesitated before resting his palm in Anakin’s, and was shocked by how cold it felt. Anakin had always radiated heat—Obi-Wan was most aware of it when they had to tend to each other’s wounds after battle—it was disturbing just how icey he felt in this moment. Not to mention, Anakin was supposed to be burning up with a fever from the infection, not half frozen.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Anakin smiled again, genuine and soft and oh, so tired. “You always do.”

The library had nothing.

Nothing.

Obi-Wan searched over and over for any sort of data on creatures with bites that caused a raging infection, and inexplicably healed within an hour. After running in circles around what he had already read, Obi-Wan sighed and carded a hand through his hair. He was frustrated with the lack of knowledge on how he was supposed to help his friend, and disturbed by the sinking feeling in his stomach.

While Obi-Wan researched the fauna of Kashyyyk and planets nearby—a fruitless endeavor—he received word that Anakin was getting worse.

Apparently, his fever rose significantly, and they decided that they would put him in an ice bath to get him to cool down. Obi-Wan thought this was a bizarre decision, since Anakin was so cold only a couple hours earlier.

This new information was enough to prompt Obi-Wan to look back at the original mission. He decided that traveling back to Kashyyyk would be the fastest way to get the answers he searched for, and it was given the go-ahead by Master Yoda.

As Obi-Wan flew back to Kashyyyk, the gnawing anxiety in his brain only grew louder. He refused to acknowledge the questions rising in his mind—How long does Anakin have? Will he be okay when I get back? Can I find what he needs on Kashyyyk?

Am I making the right choice by coming back here?

Once he landed, Obi-Wan met again with the group of Wookiees; only this time, he asked where he might be able to get in touch with one of their healers. The Wookiees chattered amongst themselves, before leading Obi-Wan back into one of their settlements.

After being escorted through the brush and greenery of the tropical planet, the Wookiees brought him to one of the many huts nestled up in the trees. Obi-Wan was led through a large wooden door, and instantly greeted with the smell of incense, as well as the sight of an elderly woman. She sat near the far end of the shack on the floor, and was fervently scrawling something down on a piece of paper placed on the table in front of her. Minimal light poured through the windows and across the room, which danced across the healer’s face as she focused on her task.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan announced his presence from the doorway.

“Ah, yes. The Wookiees told me you were coming,” The elderly woman looked up. “Said your friend got bit by one of those dastardly things, yes?”

“That is correct,” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the woman. “Do you know what I can do to help him?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” the woman chuckled and stood up. She began to rummage around in a small chest by her spot on the floor. “He’s a Wookiee too?”

“No, he’s human.”

“Oh, dear,” she sighed and straightened up, gripping something small in her hand. “Well now, let’s see if this works, hm?”

The elderly woman staggered over to Obi-Wan, who met her halfway across the hut. He glanced down at her as she placed a small vial in his hands, which was filled to the top with a green liquid, and capped with a rubber top. Her frail hands retreated, and Obi-wan studied her appearance more closely. She had long, grey hair that looked to be matted near the back, and her clothes were tattered and ripped at the ends. Her eyes were smiling and kind, despite the rest of her ragged features.

“What is this?” he asked hesitantly, and rolled the tube around in his palm.

“This is the anti-venom to those little devils in the cave,” she laughed. “So far, I’ve only had a few Wookiees use it. I’m not sure if it’ll work on yer friend, but I don’t think it would hurt to try.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan answered in earnest. “Really.”

When he turned around and began to walk back towards the front of the shack, the woman called out behind him. She was already walking back to her desk when Obi-Wan looked back.
“Oh yes, I almost forgot,” She spoke over her shoulder. “Don’t forget to give it to him before the fever breaks.”

“Why is that?” Obi-Wan asked. He turned around fully to face the woman, who returned to her original spot on the floor.

“He won’t be the same once the disease fully settles. It’s a hard illness to become adjusted to, if you can at all,” She smiled, and the crows feet deepened at the corners of her grey eyes. “Trust me.”

Obi-Wan had a nagging feeling that he was out of time. It might have been because of the woman’s warning, or the fact that Anakin’s condition was in limbo as far as Obi-Wan was aware. He wasted no time jumping into his starfighter, and took off from Kashyyyk in a hurry. Once he locked into the hyperdrive docking ring, Obi-Wan ordered R4 to get them back to the Jedi Temple as fast as possible.

The entire drive back to Coruscant felt agonizing. Obi-Wan was doing what he could with what he had, and yet he still felt useless, pressed for time that he didn’t have. He cursed himself for not asking that woman more questions; like what exactly those creatures were, what the anti-venom was made of, or how it worked. What did she mean ‘ once the disease fully settles'? And why wouldn’t Anakin be the same if he didn’t get the medicine in time?

Obi-Wan willed himself to shut his eyes and release his worries to the Force, slipping into makeshift mediation in the cockpit of his starfighter—an attempt to alleviate the inner turmoil of his heart and mind. He did this up until the craft reached Coruscant, and Obi-Wan instantly reached out for Anakin’s Force signature. He was muted, but Anakin was definitely on the planet, which meant he was still alive.

Oh, thank the stars… Obi-Wan sighed in relief and jumped out of his starfighter, which he had R4 park outside the Temple. He wasted no time making his way into the Halls of Healing.

“Master Kenobi, can I help you?” one of the Jedi Healers asked.

“Yes, where is—?”

“Skywalker is resting back in his quarters,” Master Che shuffled out from behind one of the multitudes of curtains.

“What?” Obi-Wan breathed, lacing his brows together in confusion.

Was he going mad?

“All of his tests came back normal after the ice bath,” Master Che pulled up his chart on the datapad she was holding. “The inflammation settled, the discoloration went away, the fever broke, and he no longer exhibited signs of illness. I can’t really explain it, but he’s perfectly healthy.”

“There must be a mistake,” Obi-Wan attested, peering over the file Master Che offered to him. “How… Why did you discharge him?”

She set the datapad down on the counter and sighed, “Master Kenobi, as Skywalker’s former Master, you are well aware of how stubborn he can be. If not for his reaction to being cleared medically, I would have held him longer. You know that he is quite persistent.”

“I… I guess you’re right,” Obi-Wan breathed, and turned back out the infirmary doors, utterly beside himself.

His head swam with confusion, and he felt like he was in a daze. What was going on? It was unlike Master Che to willingly release a patient so quickly, especially after the condition Anakin had been in. It was hard for Obi-Wan to believe that Anakin made a full recovery in such a short amount of time, especially with how fast his health was declining prior to Obi-Wan’s second leave for Kashyyyk.

He needed to see for himself.

After nearly tripping over his own shoes while rushing towards Anakin’s room, Obi-Wan felt a strange pull snaking through the hallway, coiling around Anakin’s door. Normally, he would knock first before stepping inside, but something in the Force was urging him to just get inside and make sure Anakin was alright. After all, things weren’t adding up, and Obi-Wan’s nerves were getting the better of him.

Before he could press the button to get inside, the door hissed open. Obi-Wan was met with the sight of a pitch black room—an intense energy in the force rolling out of the darkness in front of him.

“Anakin?” The Jedi Master called out softly, and stepped into the space. He made sure to stay mindful of the various droid parts strewn across the floor.

Something was… very clearly wrong.

The door slid shut behind him, and the hair on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck stood on end. The atmosphere in the room felt pressurized, like the darkness of the room was about to swallow him whole.

“Ana—”

Before Obi-Wan could finish, he felt strong hands push hard against his shoulders, which knocked him back against the door with a soft oof. Normally, such a sudden movement would prompt him to reach for his lightsaber, but when Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s familiar Force signature brush against his, he felt somewhat relieved.

“What is going on?” he pressed, straining to see through the darkness. “Would you turn a light on in here, I can’t see a thing!”

“Sorry, Master,” Anakin’s voice greeted from Obi-Wan’s right side, not even a foot from his ear.

His voice was much too low, smooth, and… sultry—to be coming from a man who had just been so sick he could barely move.

The blinds cracked open, just a hair enough to let the warm, amber sunset shine through and across the walls in jagged lines. Obi-Wan tensed when he realized Anakin was standing in front of him, quite literally pinning him to the door he had just walked through. His hands were still firmly placed on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and he could feel Anakin’s metal fingers digging into his muscles, along with his flesh hand curling into the other.

“What are… you…” Obi-Wan started, but the flash of Anakin’s eyes stole the air from his lungs.

They were the same familiar blue that Obi-Wan had recognized from before, now bloodshot and hungry. A circle shimmered around the iris of his eyes, like a silver ring had been placed between the blue and white of his eyes.

“I can’t wait any longer…” Anakin breathed hoarsely, and pressed his body up against his former Master’s.

Obi-Wan stared speechless at the pale expanse of Anakin’s face, wondering how in Sith’s Hell Master Che let this man out of her care willingly.

When Anakin’s breath hit Obi-Wan’s face, he saw it—sharp, pointed, and just barely noticeable enough to catch the eye. Two fangs poked out from under Anakin’s upper lip, and only became more prominent when he further opened his mouth and leaned in.

Originally, Obi-Wan was expecting it to be a kiss. Why? He wasn’t sure; maybe the proximity between them, the lust dripping from Anakin’s voice, or the yearning look in his eyes—what he was not expecting was Anakin’s tongue licking a hot stripe up the side of his neck.

And oh, the shudder that ripped through the both of them was not to be ignored.

Anakin pulled back, looking conflicted as Obi-Wan stared back at him. There was no way this was happening right? He had to be dreaming, of course, this was the only way that…

“You think too loud, old man,” Anakin growled before throwing himself forward again, this time pressing his mouth directly against Obi-Wan’s lips.

It wasn’t cold like he was expecting it to be; at least, not like Anakin had been when he was bedridden just under a day ago. The person in front of him—ravishing his lips and pinning his shoulders to the door—was much different than the man Obi-Wan desperately tried to find a cure for.

Is this what that woman was talking about? Obi-Wan’s thoughts trickled into the forefront of his mind, as Anakin’s lips melded against his.

Even though his mind felt hazy and was swimming in his skull, the memory of the vial came back to Obi-Wan, and he shoved his hand into the pocket of his robes. Somehow the touch of the glass was enough to snap him back to the present—which was Anakin’s all too soft lips, crushing his.

He hadn’t even realized he was kissing back until he forced himself to stop, and pull back.

“Anakin, listen to me,” Obi-Wan panted lightly, searching for the air that seemed to be sucked out of him. “I can help you—I can stop whatever is going on with you.”

“I know what I need, Obi-Wan…” Anakin purred through his teeth, which were looking all too sharp and dangerous.

Maybe Obi-Wan really was going insane.

He pulled out the small tube from his pocket, and wriggled his hand between them. Obi-Wan pressed it into Anakin’s chest, while simultaneously trying to shove him off. It was no use—Anakin possessed a strength that Obi-Wan could barely fathom.

Anakin looked down at the medicine and grabbed it with his flesh hand; which looked relatively back to normal, if not for that weird pale complexion Anakin still harbored.

“Will this make the ache stop?” Anakin asked, eyes flicking between the vial he was holding and Obi-Wan’s face. The way his eyes shimmered with brief flashes of silver made Obi-Wan want to shiver.

“Please just drink it, dear one.”

Even though he outranked Anakin, everything in him told him to play it cool and see how this would play out. The Force around him felt thick, heavy, and way too oversaturated with conflicting emotions. This wasn’t uncommon for Anakin; but he had been getting better at shielding throughout the years, at least up until this point. Either he was bleeding all of this want—hunger—need into the Force against his own volition, or he was specifically aiming it at Obi-Wan. It was hard to tell.

Anakin popped the lid of the tube and tipped his head back, taking all of the liquid in one sip. Obi-Wan watched in anticipation as Anakin made a face, but didn’t budge. He stayed like that for a moment, eyes closed with a grimace smearing his face.

“Well…?” Obi-Wan spoke up, voice barely above a whisper.

Did it work? Is it working?

“That tasted horrible, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped when the same husky tone infiltrated Anakin’s voice again. He looked up at Obi-Wan, eyes burning with unrestrained emotion. Anakin lifted his hand, and slowly dragged a finger down the other man’s neck, right where he had assaulted with his tongue not even a minute before.

“Will you let me?” he asked, almost innocently. “Just a taste?”

“Anakin, I don’t… understand,” Obi-Wan huffed, cursing himself at how breathless he sounded.

“I’ll show you then,” Anakin whispered, and bent down forward again.

He reached up with his mechanical hand and slid the digits into Obi-Wan’s hair, taking a fistful of auburn locks and tugging his head to the side. A gasp slipped past Obi-Wan’s lips right as Anakin’s teeth grazed the bare skin of his neck.

Time felt like it stopped when Anakin latched those perfect, warm lips onto the junction between his neck and shoulder. He sank in his protruding canines, the ones Obi-Wan had so desperately wished was just a trick of the light, or some sort of sleep-deprived hallucination—any excuse to explain away the impossible.

The sharp, stinging pain alone was enough to make Obi-Wan push harder against his former Padawan, a weak effort to untangle the two of them. He was met with more resistance, and a knee that wedged between his legs. Anakin let out a guttural moan against Obi-Wan’s skin, which was muffled by a mouthful of blood. The pain slowly sank away and gave rise to a floaty feeling, one that left Obi-Wan relaxing into Anakin’s touch. He would’ve been more bothered by the breathy sound that escaped his lips if not for the intense pulling sensation that came from his neck.

Anakin jerked away with a filthy sound, and shuddered against Obi-Wan. The older of the two hadn’t even realized he let his head lean back against the door, until he lifted his head forward and opened his eyes. Anakin hovered above him—lips stained in a thick, deep red pigment. He pawed at his mouth, wiping the color from them, and stuck his fingers past his lips to taste the blood all over again. Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut right as his fingers slipped over his tongue.

Only then did Obi-Wan feel the hard press against thigh.

“Anakin…” he started, trying to keep a level voice. “This is… very unlike you. We need to…”

Said man pulled his fingers from his mouth after licking them clean, and opened his eyes again. Anakin peered at Obi-Wan with a bit more clarity from before; except this time, the hunger in his eyes was tumbling into guilt.

“Master…?”

“Dear one,” Obi-Wan softened at the small voice. “I think you should sit down for a moment.”

“I-I feel…” Anakin ripped himself away from the auburn haired man, and heaved a sob. “I feel so bad, Master.”

Obi-Wan felt cold the second Anakin pulled away. He breathed deeply for a moment, trying his best to find some steady ground in this whirlwind of a situation, before putting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and leading him to his bed. Anakin obliged, sitting down on the mattress and throwing his head into his hands. The sight of Anakin being so openly conflicted and confused was concerning, to say the least.

“Can I get you anything?” Obi-Wan asked lightly.

“Water…” Anakin’s voice trembled through his hands. “I c-can taste you… all over my teeth.”

A shiver rippled down Obi-Wan’s spine as he walked into the kitchen and refresher area, which was shared between their respective rooms. Obi-Wan stole a glance from the mirror in order to see how much damage Anakin had done, only to realize that there was no wound at all. A brief moment of panic washed over Obi-Wan until he inspected further, and took note that there were no indentations, punctures, or spider veins at all. Not even a mark was made.

Was he safe from whatever disease had afflicted Anakin?

After filling a cup with water, Obi-Wan snuck another glance at the mirror. He absentmindedly brushed a stray lock from his face, even though his hair was much too tousled to simply pat back down into its regular style. Obi-Wan ignored the faint blush that had spread down his cheeks and neck.

Once he was in Anakin’s room again, he felt that the guilt which had bled into the Force was now reigned in, and the air was tense yet again. Obi-Wan fought the urge to run, as he knew his friend was struggling deeply with whatever was happening to him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t just leave him like that.

He rounded the corner of the bed and stood in front of Anakin, who managed to pick his head out of his hands while Obi-Wan was out of the room, and now stared straight at the floor. Anakin’s tan complexion had returned, although his color still looked somewhat off. Obi-Wan offered the cup to him, and he took it without a second to spare, gulping the entire contents down quickly.

Another grimace.

“Everything tastes awful, Master. Kark, even water,” Anakin’s face scrunched and his voice wavered, like he was holding back unshed tears. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Obi-Wan, against his better judgement, sighed and took the spot beside him. Anakin didn’t look at him, more than likely out of shame.

“Anakin, you aren’t you right now,” Obi-Wan offered. “I think, maybe…”

“No!” He yelled and lurched over himself, grinding his palms into his eyes. “I know what you’re going to say, and I’m not going to Master Che again! She said I was fine, and I hate being stuck in there. Why can’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t—” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Can you read my mind?”

“Yes, and it’s torture ,” Anakin hissed and whipped back around to stare at Obi-Wan. “Can’t you see that I don’t want this? That I can’t control it?”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed.

He felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. He wanted nothing more than to help the man in front of him, who was fighting to understand the new demands of his body.

“No, I don’t need help, Obi-Wan,” he growled, fangs baring underneath bruised lips, as fresh tears slipped past his eyes. “I just need… I need…”

“What do you need, dear one?” Obi-Wan asked softly, and put a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder. Maybe this was playing with fire—he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he knew was that he hated seeing Anakin so torn up like this. Obi-Wan was willing to do whatever it would take to help him stay calm in this moment, even if it meant going against his better judgement.

Anakin’s eyes softened, and the anger dissipated from his features, “Do you mean that?”

He must have read Obi-Wan’s mind again, although neither of them could understand how.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “I don’t know what is happening to you, but you don’t have to navigate this alone. I am here for you, as I always will be. You don’t have to fight this by yourself. We can find a way to work through this.”

Gratitude—thankfulness—love seeped out into the Force around them, and immediately lifted the smothering oppression that lingered prior. Anakin reached out tentatively with his hands, and when Obi-Wan didn’t turn away, he threw his arms around him. Obi-Wan sighed through his nose and hugged back lightly, thanking the Force that Anakin was still here—still the amazing man that he had known and trained and lived with all these years.

“Of course I am, Master,” Anakin laughed into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You need to get out of my head,” Obi-Wan pulled away and gave a lighthearted glare.

Anakin smiled back, a teasing glint in his eyes, “Now why would I do that when I have access to all the things you aren’t willing to say out loud?”

“Because it’s not right, Anakin,” Obi-Wan frowned and let go of the embrace, resting his hands back in his lap. “It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Anakin sighed and leaned away too. He looked toward the window, and upon noticing twilight just beginning to hit Coruscant, decided to use the Force to turn the light dimmer upwards, brightening up the living space by a touch.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan reprimanded, and Anakin shot a cheeky grin in return. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking at his friend closely.

“What symptoms are you experiencing now?”

“Well…” Anakin hummed, and stared at the walls of his room as he thought. “When I was released from the Halls of Healing, I was really hungry. So I started eating some of the food in our kitchen, but everything tasted like bantha shit.”

Anakin snuck a glance at Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye, fully expecting to get chewed out for swearing, but his former Master seemed much more interested in what else he had to say instead.

“Go on.”

“And, well, I was still hungry,” Anakin admitted, and looked down at his hands. “I tried everything, and nothing was… enough. I actually ended up throwing up most of it, because nothing sat right with my stomach. I brushed my teeth after it happened, and that’s when I noticed, the, um…”

Obi-Wan studied his former Padawan as his cheeks bloomed pink, a stark contrast against his slight pallor. Anakin played with the edge of his sleeve, and picked at a loose strand.

“The teeth.”

“Right, the teeth,” Anakin nodded. “Or, fangs, rather…”

Obi-Wan’s arms prickled with goosebumps at the memory of them. How they glinted in the low light, or how they felt piercing into layers of skin… 

“Anything else?”

“My sight and smell are heightened,” he added, still not raising his gaze from his lap. “I can see in the dark, and I could smell you the instant you were in the hallway right outside my door. I can also hear better… At least, enough to hear your blood rushing…”

Obi-Wan gaped at Anakin, who now looked as if he wanted to shrink into himself and disappear altogether. He had no doubt that both of them were replaying the events that took place against Anakin’s door not even twenty minutes prior, and the memory of it burned inside the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach. He could feel his own cheeks rising with the same heat Anakin’s held.

“What did I taste like?” Obi-Wan asked curiously.

Anakin’s breath hitched and he covered his face with his hands, and shame quickly bled from his Force signature.

“Master, I don’t think that’s important—”

“No, I’m quite interested—do tell.”

Anakin heaved a sigh before mumbling into his sleeves, “You taste… intoxicating.”

Obi -Wan strained to hear him, and leaned in closer to make sure he heard correctly.

“Like some sort of fucked up juice, or wine, that made the gnawing hunger subside… You’re the only thing that’s tasted good in hours.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard between his fingers, and tried to wrap his mind around the newfound information. Anakin took one of his hands away from his face to peer up at him, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment.

“Aren’t you disgusted?” he asked lamely, searching Obi-Wan’s face for any sort of giveaway.

“Not particularly,” Obi-Wan answered truthfully. “I will have to do more research in the library, and perhaps ask around to see if anyone has a clue.”

In the blink of an eye, Anakin’s flesh hand reached out and snagged Obi-Wan’s wrist. The Jedi Knight held onto his arm firmly, but not tight enough to hurt. Anakin’s face was contorted into a frantic, pleading expression—one that Obi-Wan had only seen him wear a handful of times.

“Please don’t leave me,” Anakin’s voice wavered. “Not right now—not tonight.”

Obi-Wan placed his other hand over the top of Anakin's fist, who loosened his hold in return.

“Alright, but I really do think we should get you see Master Che again, as the chances of you losing control again are—”

“No!” Anakin ripped his hand out of Obi-Wan’s. He shook slightly as fear clouded his eyes, “They can’t help me, Master! And I don’t trust myself around anyone else.”

“Anakin, they have sedatives to help you calm down before anything—”

“Stop,” Anakin interrupted again, and abruptly stood from the bed. He began to space back and forth, his flesh hand shaking. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Then what can we do, Anakin?” Obi-Wan stood as well, and put a stern hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t like seeing you suffer with this sort of affliction.”

Anakin stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if it was in thought or in self-restraint. A brief moment of silence passed between them, and the air around them began to tighten once again as a storm raged inside Anakin’s heart and mind. Obi-Wan thought that Anakin would definitely need to practice shielding again, since this disease seemed to lower Anakin’s fortitude so significantly.

“I know what I need, but I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Anakin spoke up.

“Try me.”

Anakin swallowed and opened his eyes, which fleetingly reflected in the dim light of his bedroom. He turned his head towards Obi-Wan’s hand, which was still resting on his shoulder, and carefully brought up his own hand to cup it around Obi-Wan’s arm.

“I think I feel more out of control when I’m hungry,” Anakin studied his former Master’s wrist. The residual blush on Anakin’s cheeks bloomed with intensity again when he continued, “And um, y’know, after I had a taste before, I seemed to come to my senses…”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Obi-Wan asked, and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Anakin whispered, and his eyes jumped to meet the other’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, dear one,” Obi-Wan answered softly, and cupped Anakin’s cheek. He grazed the pad of his thumb against Anakin’s face, who shivered in response.

“You really don’t think it’s disgusting…?”

“Like I said before, Anakin, not really. I’m willing to help you in any way I can,” Obi-Wan shook his head. “But do promise me that we will look into this matter when you get your fill.”

“You can count on it, Master,” Anakin replied before nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s wrist. “I promise.”

His nose bumped against the thin skin, and Anakin’s nostrils flared once before his lips took purchase on the delicate spot. This act was much more gentle and level-headed compared to the bite that took place earlier. Anakin parted his lips slowly, which gave way to a set of teeth and two fangs that were just barely noticeable to the eye. Obi-Wan held his breath as Anakin sank his teeth into the pale flesh of his wrist, quickly sealing his lips over the skin and sucking intently. The prick of his fangs wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been earlier on his neck, and Obi-Wan wasn’t as worried about him leaving a mark, knowing now that the wounds seemed to patch up instantly.

What he wasn’t expecting was the lightheadedness to come back.

Something in Anakin’s saliva must have changed with his recent contraction, because Obi-Wan was sure he wasn’t losing blood quick enough to get dizzy. The pain was subsiding again as well, which prompted the possibility of a numbing component in Anakin’s changed autonomy. Either way, Obi-Wan’s world was spinning, and he needed to sit down.

Anakin seemed to catch his unease when his eyes flitted upwards to look at Obi-Wan, and promptly removed his mouth from the scene. He lapped up the remaining blood from the puncture wounds with his tongue, swiping it against Obi-Wan’s wrist and healing it instantly.

“What… is in your spit?” Obi-Wan sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall. He stared at Anakin through hazy vision.

“How am I supposed to know?” Anakin asked in return, a smirk dancing across his lips. He crawled over Obi-Wan and sat beside him on the remaining edge of the bed, still holding onto his wrist.

“Does it hurt?”

“It does at first, but it goes away rather quickly. It gets replaced by a numb feeling, almost like static,” Obi-Wan huffed. “I do hope this doesn’t kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen, Master,” Anakin laughed—a sound Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to physically curl into and hold against his chest dearly.

The two sat there for a moment, as Anakin ogled his neck yearningly. His eyes flickered back to meet Obi-Wan’s, who stared back at the beautiful man beside him—hair tousled and eyes hungry.

It felt like a rubber band had been stretching between them the entire time since Obi-Wan first entered the room. Some of the tension had eased when they talked about Anakin’s prognosis, but in this split second of a moment, the figurative rubber band snapped.

Obi-Wan and Anakin’s lips crashed together heatedly, and slid against each other’s in a frantic attempt to get closer. Anakin took the initiative, slinging his leg over the other man’s hips and straddling him with ease. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, right as he sat down on top of his former Master’s thighs. Obi-Wan gasped against his lips, and Anakin took the opportunity to dart his tongue inside. Both of them groaned into each other’s mouths.

Anakin pulled back, and steadied himself by putting one hand against the wall beside Obi-Wan’s head, and the other on his neck. His eyes were dilated, and so impossibly dark—such a deep shade of blue Obi-Wan had never seen Anakin wear before.

“I can feel your blood flow, and hear your heart racing,” Anakin spoke hoarsely. “Not to mention…”

He shifted his lower half, grinding himself down against the older man, which pulled a punched out sound from Obi-Wan.

“You’re half-hard.”

Obi-Wan gasped at Anakin’s openly lewd remark. He wasn’t wrong, Obi-Wan was definitely toeing the line of dangerous territory—if he hadn't crossed it already—he had originally hoped that Anakin wouldn’t notice. The auburn haired man turned his head to the side, in a futile attempt to avert his gaze and hide the blush staining his cheeks, but this only gave Anakin the opportunity he was looking for.

He bent down and hungrily teethed the sensitive skin of Obi-Wan’s throat, “Don’t worry, Master. You aren’t the only one.”

“How uncivili—Oh—”

Obi-Wan sucked in a shaky breath when Anakin sunk his teeth inside once again. This time, it was on the other side of his neck, opposite to the first bite he had dealt earlier. The pain stung at first, and made tears spring to Obi-Wan’s eyes, before it was replaced with that strange pulling sensation.

Anakin keened against Obi-Wan’s throat. Loudly.

The noise shot straight to Obi-Wan’s groin and he shut his eyes tightly, wondering how this was even happening. Did Anakin have some sort of newfound Force abilities that he wasn’t letting on? Obi-Wan had found out about the mind reading, but did he have the power to influence Obi-Wan as well? If not… Well, that was something he would have to revisit later.

Anakin shifted his hips again, grinding down even further against the tent in Obi-Wan’s pants. Both of them made small sounds of frustration, and Anakin pulled back.

The sight of him was obscene. He placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s chest, and wiped at his mouth with his flesh hand, eyes half-lidded and burning with molten desire. His fingers smeared opaque red across his mouth, as he let out a heavy sigh past his parted lips and stained fangs.

Stars, Obi-Wan thought. Have you always been this gorgeous?

After clearing the blood from his face with the back of his hand, Anakin swallowed thickly, and began to shed himself from the undershirt he was wearing. Obi-Wan did the same.

“I was just about to ask if this was okay,” Anakin let out a breathy chuckle. “But I don’t think I need to now.”

“You’re right—you don’t,” Obi-Wan confirmed as he threw his tunic and belt to the floor beside the bed. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in.”

Anakin blushed lightly and dipped his head. When Obi-Wan went to take off his own undershirt, Anakin hooked his fingers under the fabric for him, and helped pull it off. Once that piece of clothing was discarded on the floor with the rest of their top-halves, Obi-Wan surged forward and immediately wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist. He trailed small kisses up the expanse of Anakin’s chest, making his way across prominent collarbones and taut muscles.

Just for tonight, Obi-Wan reassured himself in his head, and double checked that his mental shields were raised. He had no doubt he wanted this just as bad as Anakin did right now, but if they acted on this impulse again in the future, who knows what kind of road it could lead them down.

Just tonight...

They kissed again, and Obi-Wan shuddered at the copper flavor in Anakin’s mouth, while curious fangs scraped across his bottom lip. Anakin threw his arms over his former Master’s shoulders, and placed his hands on his back, raking his nails over Obi-Wan’s spine. He groaned against Anakin’s lips, and shifted so that both of them rolled over. Obi-Wan pressed Anakin into the bed, holding him there with his torso, as his hands ventured into his unruly curls.

This was it, there was no going back. There was no way Obi-Wan could find the strength to turn away now, not with Anakin squirming and mewling under him like this. He broke from the kiss to look at the man below him, whose curls were splayed out across the pillow, eyes half-lidded and darkened with emotion.

Between everything that they had been taught as Jedi, to upholding the Code, to dedicating their entire lives to the Republic—everything seemed so secondary in contrast to Anakin. Obi-Wan wondered if he really wasn’t the good Jedi he thought he was, or had hoped to be.

“Will you tell your mind to quiet down and fuck me already?” Anakin huffed. The hot air tickled Obi-Wan’s face, which snapped him back to the present. “I’m not trying to read your thoughts right now, and somehow you manage to think even louder than before.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, and swallowed before replying, “I’m sorry, dear one. This just feels like a lot all at once.”

“Then let me handle it,” Anakin’s voice rumbled, low and raspy. “Don’t want you to get cold feet right before the fun begins, old man.”

Their positions switched again, back to what it had been before, with Anakin straddling his hips and Obi-Wan’s back pressed into the bed. The younger of the two shifted so that he could wrangle himself out of his pants and undergarments, then turned his attention back to Obi-Wan, who was staring heatedly at Anakin's bare skin.

Anakin smirked and brushed the bangs out of his eyes, “You can touch after I get your pants off.”

He swatted the top of Obi-Wan’s hip lightly and he obliged, lifting up his lower end as Anakin ripped the clothing from his body. Obi-Wan flushed when his cock sprung free, but Anakin was too busy wrestling with both Obi-Wan’s boots and pants to notice.

Eventually, with some persuasion around Obi-Wan’s ankles, both of the men were completely bare before each other. There have been times where this happened directly after a battle, but the context was so strikingly different, that it felt like this was the first time they could properly look at each other. Even in the dim lighting of the room, they could see perfectly—from every scar to every freckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” Obi-Wan said softly, awestruck.

Anakin couldn’t fight the show-stopping smile that pulled across his face, showing off his glittering fangs. He bent his head down, and a few untamed curls fell into his eyes. Such a bashful reaction for someone who could drain the blood from Obi-Wan at any minute, if he wanted to.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Anakin mused, and slowly slid his hand up the inner part of Obi-Wan’s thigh, earning a hiss in return.

A reactive noise caught in Obi-Wan’s throat when Anakin’s flesh hand snaked its way around his arousal, and gripped it firmly. He thumbed over the head, and watched as Obi-Wan’s eyes slid shut at the contact. He bent forward and slowly ran his tongue along the underside of it, before finding his way to the tip, and curled his full lips over the sensitive flesh. Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath at both the velvety touch of Anakin’s lips, and the memory of those sharp teeth.

His eyes flew open, and Anakin’s cybernetic hand landed on his hip. He must have sensed how on edge Obi-Wan was now—what with those fangs so close to such a delicate area.

“You better not,” Obi-Wan warned.

“I won’t, Master,” Anakin laughed lightly, easing some of his anxiety. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Anakin slid his fingers back down the shaft to hold Obi-Wan steady, as he closed his eyes and took him back into his mouth, further this time. Obi-Wan pulled one of his hands up to his mouth and bit the back of it, trying to stifle a moan that was crawling its way up his throat. The other hand wedged itself into the disarray of Anakin’s hair, intertwining delicately between messy waves. Obi-Wan always loved that—even though it had darkened considerably as he grew older—it still shined a brilliant gold in the sun.

Despite his moodiness and overall personality, Anakin Skywalker was warm in every other way—the tone of his skin, the hair on his head, the warmth of his body—and Obi-Wan loved it.

He decided then that this couldn’t be just tonight.

Obi-Wan wanted to cherish this man forever.

Anakin’s mouth sank deeper, until Obi-Wan could feel the tip of himself brush against the roof of Anakin’s mouth, and into the back of his throat. Tears pricked the edges of Anakin’s eyes as he strained to open his throat to Obi-Wan, only to gag and pull him out of his mouth.

Obi-Wan met eyes with Anakin, who was smirking through his lust-clouded expression. He felt his cock jump when Anakin put his hand on it again. He fisted him lightly, but not nearly fast enough.

“Sorry, Master. I’ve never done this before,” Anakin admitted, a smirk still plastered on his lips.

“I—w-what?” Obi-Wan sputtered, a concerned look scrunching his features. “Wait—Hold on. You’ve never—”

Anakin rolled his eyes and interrupted him, “I’ve done it by myself, but yeah, you’re my first.”

Obi-Wan threw his head back against the pillows and sighed, “Anakin, I don’t want to hurt you if we keep going.”

“No, you’re not allowed to back out of this now,” Anakin threw himself up into a sitting position. “Like I’ve said, I’ve done stuff like this before. Just not… with another person.”

Obi-Wan was about to protest, until he heard the bedside table drawer slide open. He looked over to see Anakin reaching out his hand, and a small bottle was called to his palm. Before he could reprimand his former Padawan, Anakin flicked the cap open and coated his fingers with a clear liquid.

“I’m going to ride you,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. He shuffled forward on his knees, and once again settled them at Obi-Wan’s sides. “And you’re gunna like it.”

“Never said I wouldn’t, it’s just that—Ahh,” Obi-Wan stumbled over his words when Anakin grabbed at his arousal again.

“No complaining then,” Anakin replied hotly. “Let me take care of it.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against Obi-Wan’s, and removed his hand from between. From what Obi-Wan assumed, he began to stretch himself open with his own fingers. Anakin let out a strangled sound as he took Obi-Wan’s lips in his own, biting down just enough to draw a pinprick of blood. He closed his eyes, and Obi-Wan’s hands slid up and over his back—roaming across his muscles and then down toward his hips. Obi-Wan gently kneaded at his ass and down the backs of his thighs, before running them back up, closer to where Anakin was working himself.

“Let me,” Obi-Wan whispered into Anakin’s mouth, who obliged and leaned forward a bit more, breaking the kiss.

Anakin laid down on Obi-Wan’s torso, but kept some of his body weight propped up on his cybernetic arm. He stuffed his face into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and breathed deeply, while Obi-Wan trailed closer than he had ever been before. Featherlight, he pressed against Anakin’s entrance, which was already slick from his previous attempt at stretching himself. Obi-Wan felt Anakin jolt backwards into his hand, asking him to just get on with it.

Carefully, Obi-Wan pressed his forefinger inside, into an unfathomably tight heat that was velvet against the tip of his finger. Anakin moaned into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and he could feel the sound rumble in Anakin’s chest as he mouthed at his skin with kittenish, sharp canines. Obi-Wan coaxed his index further—down to the knuckle—as both men let out shaky breaths.

“Another,” Anakin whispered hoarsely against his shoulder. “Please…”

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan questioned, and pulled his finger out, earning a whine in response.

“Yes, Force! Don’t make me beg, Master.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and nuzzled his face against the mop of hair beside him. He inhaled the soft scent of citrus and sage shampoo, grease and motor oil, and everything that was entirely Anakin. Gods, did Obi-Wan love him—the realization did nothing but make his heart swell.

He placed his first and middle finger against Anakin again, and pushed both inside—slowly at first—until the younger of the two pushed back against them. Obi-Wan sank both inside, dipping in and out, while Anakin panted softly into his neck. His hips stuttered, and Anakin rutted against Obi-Wan, which rubbed both of their cocks together in aching friction. Both of them whined in unison.

Obi-Wan continued stroking his fingers in and out, but he could tell that Anakin was growing steadily impatient, given the frustrated sounds he was making. So, he lined up his ring finger and slipped it in with the rest of them, and Anakin cried out. At first it startled Obi-Wan, until he moved his fingers slightly against the rough patch inside him, which earned another sob from the shaky man on top of him. The noise alone almost made him bust right then and there.

Three digits in now, and Anakin was throwing himself back onto Obi-Wan’s fingers, essentially fucking himself on his hand. Obi-Wan placed his other palm on the small of Anakin’s back, which was deliciously arched against him.

“Master…” Anakin breathed softly. He teething at the junction between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder, fanning hot breaths against the sensitive area. “I want you. Please...”

Obi-Wan didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his fingers out from inside Anakin, who hissed at the lack of attention and sat upright. Obi-Wan blinked, utterly taken by how gorgeous Anakin was, even in the dim light—with his hair thrown everywhere and the unbearable lust in his eyes.

He still couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Obi-Wan searched the bed with his hand until it landed on the small bottle of lube. He flipped the cap open and squirted a generous amount into his hand, before coating the length of himself, and set the bottle back on the nightstand afterward. Once it hit the tabletop, Anakin reached out and took Obi-Wan’s hand from his dick, and replaced it with his own. He placed himself above Obi-Wan’s hips, and pressed the head against his entrance while he hovered in place.

“You better go slow,” Obi-Wan warned, and slid his non-sticky hand across the pectorals of Anakin’s chest. The smooth skin twitched under his touch, and Anakin’s eyes fluttered at the contact.

“Shut up,” Anakin replied lightheartedly, even though his voice was strained.

Anakin slowly sunk down over him, and Obi-Wan moaned when the tight heat engulfed the head of his cock. Anakin rolled his head back and keened—high-pitched and breathless—as he lowered himself further.

“Force, Anakin,” Obi-Wan gasped as Anakin bottomed out.

“Kriff, you are really something,” Anakin mused and rolled his head on his shoulders.

He looked down at Obi-Wan, who was now holding the younger man’s sides, kneading softly at the spot between his hips and thighs.

“And you are just breathtaking, dear one,” Obi-Wan breathed.

Anakin leaned down and pressed another kiss against Obi-Wan’s mouth, light at first, until he tilted his head. Obi-Wan deepened it by opening his mouth, threading a hand through Anakin’s beloved curls, and giving a small tug. Anakin groaned against his lips and slipped his tongue inside, heatedly rolling it against Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan’s cock jumped at the taste of leftover blood—his blood—and Anakin took it as a sign to start moving.

He rolled his hips upwards, before pushing back down, and both of them heaved at the delicious friction.

Obi-Wan never imagined this to happen between them in a million lightyears, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel as if he hadn’t wanted this.

Oh no, he wanted all of this—all of Anakin.

Anakin straightened up and steadied himself by splaying his hands against Obi-Wan’s chest, smoothing his fingers over the small auburn hairs, and pushing down against the muscles. He rolled his hips back upwards again, and slammed back down.

“Obi-Wan…” he mewled salaciously, peering down at his former Master beneath him. “You have me…”

“What?” Obi-Wan panted softly, returning his hands to Anakin’s hips.

A brazen smile graced Anakin’s lips, pulling back to reveal those brilliant fangs, “You’re thinking too loud again…”

How couldn’t he? When the most beautiful man he had ever had the pleasure of looking at—for what felt like the first time—was fucking himself eagerly on top of him. Not just any man, of course, but one Obi-Wan had cared for and loved so deeply—a man he had never felt closer to than in this moment. Obi-Wan felt grateful.

He tentatively slid his calloused fingertips over the head of Anakin’s cock, which was leaking a ridiculous amount of pre-come, and brushed his thumb over the slit. Anakin’s hips stuttered, and he hung his head, panting loudly between strangled moans as his eyes screwed shut. Obi-Wan stroked leisurely from tip to base and back again, while Anakin’s abdomen muscles twitched at the contact.

“I-I can’t,” Anakin whined, that beautiful high-pitched tone creeping back into his voice. “Not with you—ughh—touching me like that…”

“Then don’t,” Obi-Wan replied.

He reached out his hand that wasn’t preoccupied, and wrapped it around the corner of Anakin’s neck and shoulder, yanking him downward so that he was now sprawled across Obi-Wan’s torso. Anakin made a confused sound, before Obi-Wan placed both of his hands on the other’s ass, and thrusted into him.

Anakin cried out something unintelligible, and gripped his flesh and cybernetic hands into the taut muscles of Obi-Wan’s shoulders. He fanned hot breaths against his former Master’s neck, who groaned wantonly in response.

Obi-Wan set a tight pace, and used Anakin’s backside for leverage as he thrusted upwards. He could feel the warm press of Anakin’s cock against his stomach, which was now liberally smearing pre-come between them.

“Obi—Wan! ” Anakin strained into his ear. “I don’t know… f-fuck—how much longer—I…”

“Me too,” Obi-Wan rasped, and moved one of his hands to clamp down across the nape of Anakin’s neck. “It’s alright, I’ve got you, dear one.”

Anakin bumped his nose into Obi-Wan’s throat, before opening his mouth and clamping down on the flesh in front of him. He felt Anakin’s body tense as he clenched tightly around Obi-Wan’s length, before emitting a strangled moan against the older man’s throat. Anakin came in hot spurts between the tight space of their bodies, and Obi-Wan also tipped over the edge.

The numbing sensation from the bite was rolling in, and this time it seemed to flood all over his body, spreading from his fingertips to his toes. He shut his eyes tight and moaned against dark, sweat-slicked curls, and spilled inside the man on top of him. Obi-Wan held onto Anakin tightly, as both of them shook together, as if Anakin was an anchor that kept him tethered to the present. As if he was the only one in the world—the only man who could break down his walls so effortlessly—the only thing that mattered.

And to some degree, he was.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan admitted breathlessly. “So much, Anakin.”

The Jedi Knight retracted his assault on the skin between his teeth, and licked a stripe over the wound, sealing it with a kiss. He pulled back and untangled himself from Obi-Wan’s grip, a playful gleam in his eye.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear that,” Anakin teased, before shyly turning his head to look away. “I love you too…”

Obi-Wan’s heart leapt at the confession, and he couldn’t stop the warm smile that crossed his face. Anakin smiled back, and the Obi-Wan wiped a bit of blood from the corner of his lips.

“I think we should get cleaned up,” Obi-Wan brushed stray curls from the other’s face. “And figure out what exactly happened to you while I was away, looking for answers on Kashyyyk.”

Anakin let out an aggrieved groan, before rolling off his former Master and plopping onto the small part of the bed beside him. Obi-Wan shook his head with a slight grin, before sitting up and reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. He handed a few to Anakin, who made a face while he cleaned up his stomach.

“Can’t we do it in the morning? I’m so tired, Master,” Anakin complained and threw the tissues to the ground haphazardly.

“My, aren’t you quite the brat,” Obi-Wan sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wrestled his pants back on, before rounding the bed and picking up the discarded mess. “You aren’t slithering your way out of this one, Anakin.”

After making his way into the kitchen to throw out the used tissues, Obi-Wan caught sight of his disheveled appearance in the mirror. He blushed heavily at the bruises that marked his collarbones and neck, stunned at how they got there in the first place. He must have been so wrapped up with everything else going on that he hadn’t noticed Anakin’s victorious attempt at marking him. Still, there were no teeth marks—only freshly painted red and purple splotches.

When Obi-Wan shuffled back into Anakin’s bedroom, the overhead light was turned off and Anakin had taken the liberty of snuggling under the covers.

“You better not run away now, old man,” Anakin chided, voice muffled against his pillow. “Or I’ll hunt you down and really suck you dry.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Obi-Wan cringed, before sliding underneath the blanket, and pressing his body against Anakin’s. “And just so you’re aware, we are going to figure this all out in the morning. Know that I will not forget about your condition after we wake up.”

“Whatever,” Anakin brushed it off, and turned over so that he could face Obi-Wan. “I don’t care if I get cured or not. I kind of like the taste of you, anyways. Plus, the extra abilities are nice.”

“Ah, so I assume that’s part of the reason why Master Che let you go without a fight?”

“Oh no, she did,” Anakin’s voice was smiling as he spoke. “But I… might have had a hand in getting out of there.”

Obi-Wan scoffed and the two of them sat silently for a moment.

“And what about me?” he asked tentatively. “Did you have any influence on my actions?”

“No, Master. That was all you.”

Both of them shared a chuckle, and reached out for the other, meeting halfway in the space between them. Obi-Wan curled his fingers through Anakin’s, and he hooked his leg around Obi-Wan’s knee—trapping him against his body.

“I hope you’re not having second thoughts,” Anakin whispered. When Obi-Wan’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the faint, playful grin on his face. “Because you can’t leave now.”

“Guess not,” Obi-Wan answered by playing along, and smiled back. “Even if I wanted to.”