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There were few things in the galaxy that could kill Anakin’s libido. In fact, Obi-Wan could only think of one moment where he wasn’t in the mood for sex, and that had only been because he physically was incapable of getting an erection on account of the virus ravaging his system. And even then he still tried to get in Obi-Wan’s trousers. For warmth, he’d said, as he shoved his hands down the front and held Obi-Wan’s limp cock in his hands.
But this truly took the cake.
Stuck in a small escape pod built for one fully grown humanoid, and only minutes away from what had almost been their very explosive death on a damaged Separatist ship, Obi-Wan had a very squirmy, very fixated Anakin on his lap.
“Anakin, are you really doing this right now?”
Anakin continued to grind his hips down on Obi-Wan’s lap, little whimpers slipping past his lips that pushed hot air across the shell of Obi-Wan’s ear. Obi-Wan could smell his arousal in the small space, the humid air trapping it, making it linger in his nose and settle in the back of his throat. It would have been tempting under any other circumstance, but as Obi-Wan was still reeling from almost dying, it was just obnoxious.
“C’mon, Obi-Wan, we almost just died,” Anakin said. He raised his head, but only ended up knocking it hard against the low ceiling of the pod. He winced, but it didn’t stop his steady rhythm on Obi-Wan’s lap.
“Yes, we almost died, and we still might die. We’re floating in space, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“So? We’ve already signaled for rescue and the men are launching a search party in the area right as we speak.” He shifted his stance on Obi-Wan’s lap, angling his hips so his clothed cock rubbed against Obi-Wan’s belly. His lashes fluttered then, and he let out an obscene moan as he continued to get off using whatever part of Obi-Wan he could. “You can’t honestly tell me that you’re not turned on by all this. The danger, the action - the brushes with death. We might not always have this chance, Master.”
Anakin ducked back down and started sucking on Obi-Wan’s earlobe, his teeth sharp and tongue hot as he fixated on Obi-Wan’s lobe. The sensations were almost enough to distract him, but Anakin’s absurd reasoning hooked itself in Obi-Wan’s mind and wouldn’t let go.
“You’re saying we should have sex because we almost died?”
“Seize the day and all that,” Anakin murmured before he nipped along Obi-Wan’s neck. Nuzzling past his robes, he bit down on the stretch of muscle at the corner of Obi-Wan’s neck, earning himself a gasp.
And a knock to the side of the head.
It didn’t stop Anakin’s wiggling.
“Anakin, stop it.”
“Please, Master,” Anakin begged. He lifted his head, his eyes glassy with lust in the low light of the escape pod. His lips were slick with spit, plump and pink, cheeks still red from their prior exertion. “Let me suck your cock?”
“There’s no room,” Obi-Wan said, and then because he didn’t want Anakin getting the wrong idea, he added, “And unlike you, I don’t feel the need to get off after almost dying.”
“Liar.” He reached down between them, and Obi-Wan could feel his knuckles brush his stomach as he fiddled with the banding of his own trousers. Immediately the scent of Anakin’s sex became stronger, and Obi-Wan looked between them to see Anakin had taken his cock out and was furiously touching himself. “I see how excited you get when we’re in the middle of battle,” he said, voice hitching slightly as he twisted his grip on the tip of his cock. A move Obi-Wan had taught him. “You get this look in your eyes - focused and bright and dangerous. Its the same look you have when you’re fucking me.”
Obi-Wan felt heat spread up along his neck and cheeks. “I get slightly thrilled in the middle of a good fight, it’s true. But that’s different from almost dying in an explosion.”
Anakin whimpered and continued to touch himself. Obi-Wan looked back down, watching Anakin’s delicate, long fingers give him hurried, unsatisfactory pleasure. Anakin always did go too fast and too hard on himself, tugging away like he was trying to win the record for the fastest orgasm done by the human male. The gummy red head of his cock shone with precome, beads of it pooling up at the slit before it was collected by Anakin’s hand. A slick sound carried through the space, mixing with Anakin’s frantic breathing and desperate little moans.
“Let me suck you off,” Anakin said, dragging Obi-Wan’s attention back to his face. Gods, was he gorgeous, the light from up above casting his youthful features in sharp contrasts of black and golden yellow. He smiled when Obi-Wan looked up at him, a little coy, a little cheeky, the tip of his tongue teasing between his teeth.
“There’s no room,” Obi-Wan said. There really wasn’t. As much as Obi-Wan liked having Anakin on his lap, it wouldn’t be his first choice as they rolled around in an escape pod for who knew how long.
“You could try and stand up—”
“No.”
“Come on, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whined. “I need to feel the ache in my jaw from your cock in my mouth.” He shifted closer and nuzzled their noses together. “I can’t come now without the taste of you on my tongue - so thick and sweet. The feel of your cock across my tongue, the weight of it, the push of it in the back of my throat and how with every swallow afterward, I can the bruise you leave. Fuck, Obi-Wan. Please. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll drink up every drop - I won’t leave a mess. No one will ever know what we did in here.”
Obi-Wan swallowed. His grip tightened along the edges of the seat, pressing into the plastic and metal until he was certain he might actually break it. Taking in a deep breath, he collected himself before he kissed Anakin sweetly on the lips.
“I wish I could, darling,” he said, his hand coming up to cup Anakin’s cheek. “But we truly have no room.”
“Just give me something?”
Anakin’s movements stilled, and Obi-Wan realized he was squeezing the base of his cock, trying to hold off on his imminent orgasm. Obi-Wan had always told him to slow down - to savour the pleasures. He supposed it was time he rewarded him, he supposed.
Leaning back slightly, Obi-Wan locked eyes with Anakin - clear, grey blue hues with stormy dark. Stroking Anakin’s cheek with the pad of his thumb, Obi-Wan let out a soft coo. “You truly are desperate, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Anakin whimpered.
Trailing his hand down along Anakin’s jaw, Obi-Wan held on to his chin, pressing into the indent in the middle. “Open that pretty mouth of yours,” he instructed.
Immediately Anakin parted his lips and relaxed his jaw. His tongue hung out slightly, little bubbles of spit collecting on the pink top. He was stroking his cock again, the slap of his foreskin across his length adding to the obscenity of the situation. Obi-Wan had always admired how shameless Anakin was when they were fucking - opening his mouth, relaxing his legs, spreading his cheeks apart with one gentle command from Obi-Wan. He let Obi-Wan admire, let him touch, let him kiss and suck, never hiding from his adoring gaze or pulling away from his rough touch.
Relaxing his grip on Anakin’s chin, Obi-Wan slipped his pointer and middle finger across Anakin’s tongue, pressing into the soft muscle. Anakin let out a deep groan, his eyes fluttering closed as Obi-Wan rubbed against his tongue, pushing in the middle to make more spit pool up.
“That’s a good boy,” Obi-Wan purred. “Now close your lips and suck on them. Prove just how good you are.”
Anakin’s lips closed and immediately he began sucking on Obi-Wan’s fingers. His petal soft lips remained suctioned over Obi-Wan’s second knuckles, his hot, dexterous tongue sliding along them, coating them in his spit. Biting the inside of his cheek, Obi-Wan watched with rapt attention, soaking in every little hollowing of Anakin’s cheeks and the flaring of his nostrils.
Reaching between them with his free hand, Obi-Wan slipped his hands down the front of Anakin’s trousers and cupped his balls, rolling them in his hand while Anakin continued to suck on his fingers and jerk his cock.
“Your balls are so full,” Obi-Wan said softly. “And I thought I’d done a good job of emptying them last night…”
Anakin whimpered around Obi-Wan’s fingers, his eyes opening slightly so he could look at him through thick lashes. Desire burned bright in his gaze, mixing with soft humility. Obi-Wan slipped his fingers from his mouth and coated Anakin’s lips with his own spit, enjoying the way Anakin’s hips twitched on his lap as he started thrusting up into his touch.
“I’m close,” Anakin whimpered, voice ragged and wet. “If I catch my come, will you eat it?”
Obi-Wan groaned. “Yes, darling, I will.”
Anakin took Obi-Wan’s fingers back in his mouth, sucking on them as he raced toward completion. Obi-Wan continued to roll his balls, pressing his thumb into the seam to separate them before holding both firmly against his palm. He could feel Anakin tense, and watched with adoration as his orgasm fluttered across his face. His brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut, lips falling open. Obi-Wan dropped his hand so he could hear Anakin’s moans in full, adoring how the sound seemed to sink deeper into his chest than it otherwise would in a larger space.
When he was done he sat back slightly, and held his offering up to Obi-Wan. True to his words he’d collected what he could, milky white come pooled in the palm of his hand, sticky strands coating his long fingers. Obi-Wan took his wrist and dragged his hand, tongue slipping past his lips to lick gently at the come. Salty sweetness coated Obi-Wan’s tongue, and he was grateful he’d made Anakin eat his rationed fruit.
Anakin’s groans mixed with Obi-Wan’s soft sigh, and he locked eyes with Anakin as he licked up more of his come, at first with small little laps and then full on licks that ran the length of his palm. He finished off by cleaning Anakin’s fingers, sucking on them as Anakin had done for him moments ago, before he sat back on his seat and dropped Anakin’s hand.
Immediately Anakin collapsed on him, his full weight bearing down on Obi-Wan. Wrapping his arms loosely around Anakin’s waist, Obi-Wan nuzzled his nose against his temple.
“I still think you’re strange for getting off on almost dying,” he murmured.
Anakin jabbed him in his side with his mechno-hand. Hard.