darkforcerising | OPEN POST

Obi-Wan wasn't entirely inexperienced. It might have been better if he had been, since he wouldn't have also had the experience of that kind of loss, and it wasn't like there was enough experience there to really rely on.

It didn't actually matter much. He was mostly relying on his trust in Anakin and, at least thus far, it was working just fine.

The trust and courage - real courage, the kind that mattered, not the loud kind made up of ego and display - displayed in Anakin choosing vulnerability was breathtakingly beautiful.

His trust in Anakin wasn't displayed nearly so obviously, but he trusted his encouragement to continue, and with a brush of nothing but warmth and wordless reassurance he did. Slower, and more carefully, but he continued. When he found scar tissue instead of smooth skin, he got gentler but no more flinched away from that than Anakin's prosthetic hand at his back. There was something a little reverent in how he mapped the dimensions and lines and spaces of the scars, and worked them into the mental - and tactile - map he was making of Anakin.

Then he finished peeling Anakin's tunic off, with that same slow, careful, deliberateness.

His new state of undress sent shivers up his arms and back, and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room, which was actually fine. Maybe it could even be a few degrees cooler given how hot he actually felt. It was the kind of fever that drove him to want to get closer to Obi-Wan, burn faster and hotter, because it wouldn’t go away until it consumed them.

He found Obi-Wan’s mouth again, kissing slowly, still moving at the pace Obi-Wan set.

But his hands moved down now to Obi-Wan’s shirt, seeking to discard it like his had been.

He can tell, when Anakin returns to the kiss, that he is going to be slow because Obi-Wan was. He could also feel the heat both in Anakin's skin and his mind.

It fed into his own and made him want to give Anakin more.

So he gave Anakin more - more intensity, more focus on what Anakin felt and tasted like, more carefully used sharp edges of his teeth, more depth, more of his hands on Anakin's skin, though still gentle and light and somehow so, so, deliberate and careful.

The hands moving down, looking for the hem actually is what got another soft groan out of him - or maybe it was the clear desire for Anakin to reach skin - and he arched, strongly but slowly, back into his hands.

He didn't so much wordlessly grant permission as there was a very clear, very inexplicably given the situation, polite please.

He recognized this sensation. Would he call it an echo of himself coming back in the Force from Obi-Wan’s perception? The echo had been quite handy in previous experiences, but he’d never been able to share it before. He gave it back, letting Obi-Wan feel at the same time he did the way Obi-Wan’s fingers traced shivers across his back and how each pass thrilled him.

What got a moan from Anakin, though, was that ‘please’, that fucking please! Of course the bloody man would be polite as he asked Anakin to remove his shirt while they were fast driving off the cliffs of dignity. It made Anakin want to rip it off. He twisted his fingers in the fabric to rein in the desire to go into wild abandon.

But he did take that shirt off, and throw it away like it had offended him. And when he kissed Obi-Wan again, there was clear restraint to his movements. Restraint for Obi-Wan’s sake, but the kind of self denial that was as delicious as much as it made him sweat.

Obi-Wan recognized, but only subconsciously, how much everything Anakin was doing was reinforcing trust. It was honestly, honestly, almost seductive in and of itself.

Anakin not just opening his mind to him, but showing him the impact Obi-Wan touching him had on him - what he liked, from the smaller touches to his response to a polite request - made it much easier for him to continue to trust in those responses and simply follow desire. He might have otherwise gotten completely tangled in details.

The biggest thing, though, the thing that really got to him and both turned his arousal much more physical and demanding, burned away reservations and hesitations lurking in the back of his mind, was the restraint.

He felt Anakin' s desire, but he also very clearly knew (saw, felt, could not deny or question) Anakin reigning himself in, for the sake of being careful with him. He'd already known Anakin was letting him set the pace but this was deeper than that. It wasn't just what Anakin was (or was not) doing, it was about who Anakin was.

Because he caught the reaction to the please, there was a trace of bright humor threading through want, and a thank you, but mostly? There was a soft, shuddering, groan as he sank back into the kiss, and skimmed his arms up along Anakin's back, over his shoulders and then down his arms - both arms, to his hands, then up again along the inside of his forearms until he could curl his hands around either side of Anakin's waist. The feel of hot skin, sweat, and the contrast to metal and back again resulted in nothing more difficult than a flicker of appreciation for the contrast in sensation.

He wanted more. Wasn't sure what more looked like yet, and was okay with that for the moment

Thank you! A fucking Thank you, after that polite request before? Anakin almost growled this time.

And he wondered where this was coming from. Restraint could only be strained so much... and then he realized, it was so fucking obvious, that that bloody fucking Core world etiquette was a bloody fucking aphrodisiac coming from Obi-Wan in this context, and because he’d already decided to match Obi-Wan’s pace, his outlet was a revving engine.

He paused, because he had to, forehead to Obi-Wan’s. He closed his eyes and breathed, because he had to.

He reached back and took hold of one of Obi-Wan’s hands and gently brought it forward. When he could do so, he threaded their fingers, his palm to the back of Obi-Wan’s hand and held up their hands, resting for a moment on his shoulder. But he waited. He opened his eyes, waited. Watched Obi-Wan’s eyes, waited.

Asked if it was okay, waited for that please.

He breathed with Anakin, in perfect synch. Because their minds had already entwined, it was easier even than it had been before. That the context was different really just meant it was a different, and much more pleasant, kind of intimacy.

If he ever got Anakin to growl, he'd probably count it as a victory.

Meanwhile, using what he'd found to tease was one thing, but he wasn't trying to push Anakin to the point of breaking, so - he breathed with him, evened it out himself until Anakin was ready to move again. Patiently waited, even with a flush of arousal.

Anakin's fingers threading through his from the back of his hand was actually strangely erotic, just in that act itself and the change from the usual direction.

He didn't understand where it was going, though.

Not until Anakin's eyes open and it became clear Anakin wasn't just looking at him - though he might have looked like Anakin like that forever - but waiting.

At that point some of the gentle confusion in his eyes cleared, replaced by understanding and heat. His pulse lurched and increased, his breath caught and he -

quirked one corner of his mouth up into a smile.

"Please." The verbal word echoed mentally, directly to Anakin.

If Anakin’s other arm hadn’t been holding onto Obi-Wan’s back, and Obi-Wan’s feet not locked around Anakin’s legs, his knees might have made standing a second priority when Obi-Wan spoke.

He did think maybe they should move to the bed, it might be safer. But then they’d have to separate and why do that?

Anakin didn’t mind.

But Obi-Wan deserved this.

He kissed Obi-Wan softly on the lips, once, briefly. And when he pulled away, he had a smile of his own. A smile he wanted Obi-Wan to see and feel as he brought Obi-Wan’s hand closer.

He started kissing the center of Obi-Wan’s palm. Tender reverent touches dragged slowly to the heel of his hand. Each kiss slightly lighter than the one before. When Anakin reaches the line separating palm from wrist, he didn’t hesitate - he did not kiss it - but moved his thumb to trace it while he let his mouth move down and brush the soft skin of Obi-Wan’s wrist.

It was that moment - that precise moment - when Anakin's mouth touched the inside of his wrist that Obi-Wan stopped being quite so content to live in the moment. The moment when this developed from something he enjoyed for the sake of the experience itself, to something with a destination.

Because Anakin was careful, gentle, slow there was no element of surprise and he wasn't thrown entirely out of control of himself with lust. That would, truthfully, probably have frightened him badly.

But his reaction, while... slow, was deep and it was intense. Not like catching fire, but like sliding into hot water.

He flushed hot, in a way that was visible. His pupils dilated. His eyelashes fluttered like he wanted to close his eyes, except he couldn't stop watching Anakin. He bit his lower lip around something that would have been a little louder than any sound he'd made so far, and his fingers curled loosely, shifting muscle and ligaments under Anakin's mouth. Tension came back into his body but a different kind of tension, and resulted in him pulling Anakin toward him.

They needed a bed. He wanted a bed.

Because that was the exact moment that it stopped being a pleasant make-out and bonding session that happened to turn him on, and started being sex.

Please, and Thank you, fuck you very much.

Entangled as they were in the Force, Anakin felt everything rebound on him in the Force.

The flex of Obi-Wan’s arm against his attentions. His eyes fluttering. The strain of sound against his vocal chords. The aching impression that was a desire for that bed. The culminating need powering Obi-Wan pulling on him.

It was like someone letting go of Anakin’s reins.

He was back to kissing Obi-Wan again. But he was pulling, too. His fingers hooked onto the waist of Obi-Wan’s trousers, tugging him to get off the fucking counter and moving towards the bed.

He stumbled slightly when he landed on his feet, more from the fact that he was just a touch lightheaded and more than a touch distracted than anything.

He didn't need to ask where they were going, because he knew. He could read that in Anakin as surely as Anakin had read his desire for it to begin with. He did not, however, let Anakin go at all.

He just backed up toward the door and pulled Anakin with him, afraid that if they entirely broke contact they'd... break this. He kept hold of Anakin all the way to the nearest cabin.

Edited 2020-01-16 00:58 (UTC)

Anakin guided Obi-Wan to the bed, backing him up until the back of his knees made contact. He didn't push him further. Not because he didn't want to be on the bed - that would be silly now that they were there. But this position had its advantages and they could pause to take them in.

He wrapped one arm around Obi-Wan's waist and pressed their bodies close, he rolled his hips against Obi-Wan's. The other hand was again at the back of of Obi-Wan's neck as he kiss him, this time loosening some of the restraint - a small bite here, there.

His hand at the waist slipped forward and hooked again at the fastener.

"I want this," he said, voice thick with desire. "I want you." In case it needed to be said.

There was a lot happening there. The pressure of the arm behind his back, holding him in place against Anakin. The hand on his neck, making him feel both vulnerable and strangely empowered as he pushed up to both meet the kiss and into Anakin's hand. The sharp edges of teeth that made his breathing fall completely out of any discernible rhythm

...The roll Anakin's hips and the friction that had his vision going dim around the edges and him moaning, just a bit more loudly and pushing back into it. The hand that came forward around his waistband, fingers pressed against his stomach.

Most of all, Anakin's voice. Ask in that voice, with that much raw desire, and Obi-Wan would have given him anything he wanted.

All that and when he settled shakily back to look at Anakin, there was still a hint of tease and a challenge in his eyes when he said, "Anakin. Please." There the start of something that could turn to desperation in his mind, and a tension in his voice that made it sound clipped, emphasizing his accent.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin hissed.

And he melted, it was the best way to explain how his knees coupled and brought him to the ground. But he didn't go without a fight, on the way down, he took some parting shots at Obi-Wan's collar bone, strunum, and abs. No biting, just fleeting kisses saying goodbye to his ability to stand.

Both hands were rested on the man's trousers' waist or on the belt buckle. His form of retaliating, a posture of supplication. He was already tugging on that belt.

He knew exactly where Anakin - and this - were going and he --

Actually looked every bit as dazed as he felt. Mentally, he was slowly starting to lose coherence, ability to think clearly coming undone. If he noticed it happening he'd fight to get it back, but for the moment he was lost in desire and the precise shade of blue in Anakin's eyes.

He knew that the pause was a question, of some sort. He had to lick his lips and swallow against the dryness in his throat to be able to even manage a one word answer.

And that single word was simply: "Yes", although accompanied by his fingers carding through Anakin's hair.

Anakin's smile was smug, feeling Obi-Wan go from sass to struggling to say a singular word in a matter of seconds was a moment of triumph.

He never took his eyes off Obi-Wan's.

He tugged on the belt, he could manage by feel, and if his hand or arm happened to brush something sensitive in its endeavor to free Obi-Wan's trousers, well...

The fastener of the trousers were next, and Anakin was deliberately slow at this, because that last Please was dirty, and he knew Obi-Wan knew it. They both knew it, and both knew why this was playing out exactly like this.

And there was no need to rush.

His smile faded to something more focused and he took his eyes off Obi-Wan's only briefly when he tugged the man's trousers and underwear down enough to access his cock. He reached up, palming it, rubbing his thumb from the tip down the underside, the manuevor ending with his hand fulling gripping it, then slowly coming back forward.

Anakin stayed at just this motion for now, looking back up to watch Obi-Wan. Feel him in the Force.

He isn't idle while Anakin's slowly peeling him out of the rest of his clothes. He gasps and twitches a little at the occasional brush of Anakin's forearm, because that's a jolt of pure heat breaking into anticipation and breaking into his patience. He strokes his fingers through Anakin's hair, lightly scratches the back of his neck, traces the line of his cheekbone with his thumb.

By the time Anakin has stopped torturing him and finally wrapped a hand around his cock, Obi-Wan's actually shaking. Not from fear, or cold, but just from desire that has no outlet and he doesn't quite know what to do with it.

The look in his eyes goes from intensely focused and warm to something a little bewildered. He deliberately reflects every sensation he feels - from the rush of blood in his ears and thud of his heart against his chest to the precise, almost sharp sensation of Anakin's thumb rubbing across the head of his cock and the slide and pressure that's absolutely perfect when Anakin strokes him. Underneath all that though he is a little bewildered.

Bewildered by the depth of trust, by the intimacy, by his own reactions and just how aroused he is and realizing he is just a little, gently, not unpleasantly, losing control. That he'd like to repeat that please, breathless and not playing with Anakin but because he means it.

Not distressed, just... a little lost.

Anakin reached up his other hand, his metal hand, and took hold of Obi-Wan's free hand. Threading their fingers. Grounding him.

Enjoy this. He encouraged.

Because he was about to do more. And because what Obi-Wan felt, Anakin felt. His goal may have selfish implications. But he was aiming for first, and foremost, at making Obi-Wan feel good.

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the tip of Obi-Wan's cock. After a few strokes, he opened his mouth, taking him inside.

He needed the grounding. He needed the display of trust. He needed the physical support, because the moment Anakin took him into his mouth, Obi-Wan's eyes rolled back, his knees went weak, and he bit his lower lip so hard he drew blood.

There's still, somehow, some amusement. In being told to enjoy. How could he not? It felt fantastic and it was Anakin.

He also narrowed his focus completely, to that sensation and to pushing it right back into ANakin's mind. That was also grounding.

Anakin accepted that feeling from Obi-Wan because he knew what to do with it, to revel in it, soak it in and let it permeate him. He pulled Obi-Wan with him. Drowning in it felt like flying.

Anakin kept stroking, and each time he drew back, he let his press up against Obi-Wan's cock, ending by following the slit at the tip, and then he was taking him back in again. If he could make Obi-Wan fall back onto the bed with this, he would be amused.

But he was also content to just give this moment to Obi-Wan.

Perhaps not strangely, Anakin reveling in the feeling helped Obi-Wan do the same. Even as the feeling built, and his mind continued to unravel around him and he focused down to existing in a near purely physical way that was just ... not a thing that he allowed himself.

The steady, predictable nature of the rhythm helped, too. He never quite let himself fall back onto the bed, because - well, it wasn't a thing that occurred to him.

The point where he realized he was approaching orgasm startled him badly, he tightened his hand on the back of Anakin's neck and was hoarse and a little desperate when he said, "up and pulled him upward, albeit (mostly) gently.

Enjoy Anakin's mouth? Yes. Climax from it? Appealing, but he actually wanted Anakin closer, and in bed with him, and ideally also coming.

There was a confidence issue in play. Anakin closer was better.

One day, Anakin would resist, because he predicted it would be brilliantly fun.

Today, he did not, though he liked the rough way Obi-Wan tugged at him. They would have to explore that more. Someday. He stood up and gently claimed Obi-Wan's mouth, trying to avoid where Obi-Wan had bitten too hard on himself.

His hand, however, did not leave Obi-Wan's cock. He changed the pace, the intensity, his fingers could become feather light in their touch, but he liked playing with him, feeling all the spikes of pleasure coming back to him.

They could explore anything Anakin liked - later.

At the moment, with those variable touches, the only thing Obi-Wan particularly wanted to explore right now was remembering how to let go of enough control to have an orgasm.

He pulled Anakin into a deeper, rougher, kiss and used a hand on the back of Anakin's neck to pull him into the bed. The hand on him could - should, better - stay on him and moving, but he needed to not be standing up.

Anakin followed, chasing that kiss. And he kept his hand right were it was wanted - where it needed to be - teasingly light with his touch now. Like they'd been situated in the galley, he found himself between Obi-Wan's legs.

He took this opportunity to explore the parts of Obi-Wan he'd given only a glancing kiss before, starting with his collar bone. And that dip in his throat where everything met together. Anakin found he quite like the way Obi-Wan's beard tickled him along his travels.

He was only when he wrapped one leg around the back of Anakin's and wrapped his arms lightly around Anakin with his fingers resting low on Anakin's back, just at his waistband, that he realized Anakin was still wearing pants.

It was only at that point that he realized what Anakin had meant by relax and enjoy (beyond relax and enjoy).

Anakin was going to kill him.

He'd deserve it.

He found the idea scary, for reasons he couldn't quite identify in the moment, but he'd deserve it.

He actually, somehow, laughed aloud, though it was breathless and rough, grabbed Anakin's hair lightly with one hand and used the other to scratch up Anakin's back, just hard enough to raise faint red lines that would fade quickly - and thrust confidently up and into Anakin's hand.

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