'You... you what?' He blinks at me, backing away. He looks stunned, completely blind-sided. Not that I can blame him.
'Padmé,' I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. 'I've been sleeping with her.'
Betrayal wells in his gaze. An unmistakable agony, all because of me.
'It… you can't be serious,' he gasps, appearing to struggle for his breath.
'I'm afraid I am, Anakin,' I answer, miserably. His eyes are the very color of grief, gone a dark, ashy blue. I don't think I've ever felt worse than I feel right now.
'I'm so sorry. I couldn't hide it from you any longer.'
'So this confession,' he spits out, voice trembling, 'it's to alleviate your guilt?' He looks like he's going to be sick. 'You know how I feel about her. How I've always felt about her.'
He's right, of course. My apprentice has been in love with Padmé Amidala for as long as they've known each other. I denied it to myself, some sort of justification, writing it off as mere infatuation as a way to protect all of us, but I've known the truth all along.
'Anakin, please, you have to understand.' I stupidly reach for his shoulder and he recoils almost violently, looking at me as if he's never seen me before.
What have I done? What should have been a celebration – his Knighting – has turned into a horror show, and it's all my fault.
He backs up and slides down the wall behind him. 'How long?' he croaks, staring at his knees, seemingly incapable of looking up at me. Little wonder.
I take a shaky breath. Should I lie? Lessen the blow somehow?
No. He's had enough deception, and I can't stand lying to him any longer. Not Anakin. 'Off and on for about six years,' I finally tell him.
He blinks, coughing stoically, all things considered.
'Six years,' he repeats, focusing on a loose thread on his leggings. 'So… I was just some lovesick, stupid kid, pining away, waiting for the day I could see her again and you, you were meeting with her behind my back. All those times you supposedly left on some solo mission, on behalf of the Council, you were really going to her.' He looks up at me.
'Not every time,' I respond, gingerly, carefully. I crouch down in front of him, wanting to comfort him somehow, aching to touch him.
'Anakin, I want to explain.' I do. I wish the words would roll effortlessly off of my tongue, just out with it as quickly and painlessly as possible. But the look in his eyes is so full of hurt.
'Very well,' he whispers, so low I have to lean forward to hear what he says. I hesitate a moment and then round about to sit next to him, a small favor for which I'm secretly thankful, because it means I won't have to look directly at him for the time being.
'When Padmé and I... when we… Well, it began innocently enough,' I explain. 'She and I had developed a sort of kinship after the blockade on Naboo… and Qui-Gon's death. It was such that we visited each other on occasion. It was a platonic relationship at that time, I assure you.'
'Does that even matter anymore?' he asks, perhaps rhetorically. He sighs crossly and runs a hand through his hair. I nod in acknowledgment, incapable of denying his point.
'She kept me up to speed on varied particulars of her reign as Queen, and I kept her informed of what was happening within the Order. And with you.'
He doesn't respond, so I soldier on, trying to release my anxiety into the Force.
'We were both very lonely, Anakin, and very overwhelmed by responsibility. She was a year away from the end of her second term as Queen, and although she did not wish for an amendment to her planet's constitution to allow her another term, she didn't know what she was going to do with the rest of her life. I, too, was in conflict.'
Why am I babbling? Surely he doesn't need to hear all of this. But now that I've come this far, I have no choice but to continue, especially if I hope to salvage something positive from this confession. 'You must recall, Anakin, that you were sometimes not the easiest padawan to guide, particularly for someone as inexperienced as I was.'
'Oh, so I'm to blame?' He looks sideways at me, incredulous, angry.
'No, no, that is not what I mean.' I sigh, frustrated, shaking my head. The words are not coming easily. 'I am not justifying my reasons, merely providing you with some context for my state of mind. I was overwhelmed and needy, as was she. And it… it just happened.'
'You fuckingPadmé just "happened",' he says, dully. 'For six years.'
I wince. He's right, of course. It's a flimsy excuse at best, and we both know it. And judging by my earlier conversation with Padmé, she knows it, too.
'Are you in love with her?' he asks, his tone almost conversational, disarming me. I'm struck dumb, unsure of how to answer, for some reason.
When I still haven't responded, he asks, 'Is she in love with you?'
No, no, no. He's taken my silence as affirmation.
'We share… an abiding affection for each other,' I finally manage. 'But no, we do not love each other.'
I stand up, especially unnerved now, pace to diffuse my anxiety as my connection to the Force right now seems tenuous at best.
Just tell him.
'My-my heart lies with another,' I say as I turn to face him, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.
'What, with the Order?' he scoffs, rolling his eyes in obvious distaste.
I take a breath, steel myself. Catching his gaze, I answer, simply, 'No.'
'Then with who, Obi-Wan?' He pushes himself up off the floor, standing to face me.
'With "whom", Anakin,' I correct before I can stop myself. It's a knee-jerk reaction of a response, one that has become as natural to me as breathing. As seeing those incredibly blue eyes every single day for the past 12 years.
Incredibly, this brings a hint of a smile to his lips. He hides it quickly, almost as if he hasn't reacted at all, but we both know he did. It serves to calm me somewhat and I exhale shakily, grasp at the tendrils of Force energy around us to bolster myself.
'Well?' he asks, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
I feel myself falling into his gaze. 'With you, Anakin.'
The words lie there between us for mere moments that seem to stretch out into days. Everything in the galaxy reduced to nothing but the two of us, alone together in this room.
And then, as if in a dream, I throw all caution to the wind and pull him to me, surprising the both of us by kissing him. His lips are even softer than I'd ever dared to imagine.
An equal surprise: he doesn't pull away.
I deepen the kiss, the urgency of my complete need for him fuelling my boldness. Amazingly, his lips part to allow my tongue access to his mouth. His own tongue presses against mine, hesitantly, cautiously tasting me as I taste him.
I move one of my hands to his hair and he pulls back suddenly, though not away altogether.
'Wait a second,' he effuses. 'What, what are we doing?'
I stare at his lip, so inviting, feeling all semblance of control rapidly falling out of my grasp. 'I'm consoling us both,' I murmur, another surprise to him as much as me. I can't seem to think straight, my entire being suffused with desire for the beautiful young man I've ached for in silence, in secret for so long.
For a moment I fear he is going to pull away and put an end to all of this before it's even started. I shake, both out of fear and out of yearning.
He mutters a curse under his breath and presses himself tight against me, my shock swallowed by his mouth on mine, hot and needy, his tongue probing, sweeping against my own. I couldn't have wished it better.
His hands, both the mechanical and the flesh one, grasp the sides of my face as we kiss, not just the mere contact but the very fact that he's reciprocating (initiating, even) sending an electrical current of excitement through me, straight to my groin.
I wrench my mouth from his, noticing how kiss-swollen his lips already are, and tangle a hand in the unruly locks of his hair while running the other up his back. Even through the heavy material of his tunics, I can feel the defined sinew of his muscles, as impressive to touch as to look at.
He moans softly when I tilt his head back and attack the column of his throat, running my tongue along his pulse, strong and erratic with his now-obvious excitement. I smile against his skin and suck at his flesh, stopping when I reach the V of his collar.
'We both have entirely too many clothes on,' I whisper into his ear as I begin to un-knot the obi holding either half of his tabard in place.
'Yes, Master.' A frisson of excitement as his eyes meet mine, briefly, meaningfully, before he hastens to help me out.
'Force, padawan, how many layers do you need?' I ask, responding to his honorific in the fashion to which I've become accustomed, even if the situation itself is rather a new one entirely.
'I get cold easily.' A simple, straightforward answer requiring no reply in turn. I need to feel his bare skin as soon as possible.
Together, we make short work of his tabard and tunics. I run my hand appreciatively over the smooth, taut muscles of his chest, his abdomen, unable to believe I'm actually touching him this way at long last.
'Now you,' he says, his voice slightly ragged, his hair mussed and sticking up from the removal of his tunics.
I proceed to pull my own tunics off quicker than ever before. A telling warmth seems to build in my chest when he reaches out with his flesh hand to trace lightly over my shoulders and chest. When a finger grazes one of my nipples, I tremble, and experience another quick jolt of pleasure straight to my cock, which feels like it's getting harder with each passing second.
His kiss this time is soft, slightly hesitant, cautious. He runs his tongue over my bottom lip. The effort of restraining myself proves to be too much and I pull him closer once more, tasting him deeply, impatiently.
He doesn't stop me when I work the ties of his trousers loose. Feeling a little surreal, almost positive that I must be asleep and that this is all just some elaborate dream, I sink to my knees in front of him, looking back up at him. His eyes are dark with what I can only assume is desire or apprehension, or perhaps a combination of both. Whatever it is, he doesn't push me away.
I free his impressive erection, sliding his pants down past his hips until they pool around his ankles. A quick glance upward and then I lean forward and run my tongue up along the length of his cock, stopping at the tip and tasting the evidence of his excitement.
Force, it's been a long time since I've been with a man, since I've touched and tasted a man in this way. But then, Anakin is not just another man.
'Obi-Wan,' he gasps, his hips jerking forward.
I can't stop the grin that curls my lips as I look up at him and proceed to take him in my mouth. Just the head at first, then further, opening my throat up to him, gripping the base of his cock as I do so.
A strangled whinge from him and I feel the fingers of his mechanical hand pressing forcefully against my head.
'Oh!' he cries out after I've lifted and lowered my lips over his cock a couple more times. Barely three bobs and he explodes in my mouth, taking me completely by surprise. I swallow him down and then sit up on my heels to look up at him.
His eyes are downcast, a stain of crimson across his face as he breathes heavily.
As gently as I can muster: 'Anakin, was that… Have you ever been with anyone before?'
A moment elapses before he sighs and shakes his head, cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. I stand, running my thumb over his bottom lip, forcing his gaze to meet mine. I hide my surprise. But then, knowing Anakin and his heretofore single-minded feelings for Padmé, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at all. For all of his bravado, his seeming carelessness, his definite impulsiveness, my now-former padawan has turned out to be a true romantic.
'It's all right, you know,' I reassure him. 'Quite common the first time.'
'I'm sorry,' he insists, shaking his head, looking pained.
'No,' I say, hushing him.
'I… I wanted to… I mean…' He trips over his words and realization dawns on me. So help the Maker, I have never wanted him more.
'You're still hard,' he says, his voice low, his gaze meaningful as I feel his flesh hand settle firmly over the bulge in my trousers. I look at him in grateful disbelief, involuntarily closing my eyes as he rubs me through the rough material.
'Keep touching me like that and I may not last that long either,' I groan in response. He withdraws his hand but only far enough to pull at the ties of my pants. I open my eyes, stare at his mouth. Imagine what it will feel like on me. I'm so hard it almost hurts.
He reaches into my trousers and boldly wraps his hand around my cock, all traces of his previous embarrassment wiped from his face.
'Anakin, unh.' I lean into him as he strokes me once, twice. His lips press into mine but instead of kissing me, he speaks.
'Master, I… I want you to… I mean, Ferus used to tell me how good it felt.'
'You want me to…' I blink. Whatever has changed between us, Anakin's ability to surprise and unnerve me is remarkably still intact. 'Are you sure?' I ask, growing impossibly harder still in his grip. Terror as keen as any I have ever felt, that he will change his mind, washes over me in the second it takes for him to nod.
I capture his lips, not caring anymore if I'm kissing him too hard, too insistently. He apparently doesn't seem to mind and returns my kiss with equal ardor, our tongues and teeth clashing almost violently, duelling for supremacy, in this as in nearly everything else over the long years spent as a team. Some things, I suppose, will never change.
'Be careful,' he says when we come up for air. 'After all, it's my first time.' A smile plays softly on his lips and I can't resist nipping at them once more.
'Wait here,' I tell him, pulling back again. He grins, the self-assured young man I know once more. He withdraws his hand from my pants and steps completely out of his own to wait for me more patiently than I've ever seen him wait for anything. I turn to make my way to my bedroom as quickly as possible.
I dig frantically through drawers. Even if I find the lubricant will it still be good?
This is so unlike you, Kenobi, I tell myself.
It strikes me once more just how long it's been since I've been with another man. Most of my sexual pleasure over the past several years has come from my occasional trysts with Padmé. How many years since that night with Quin? Three? Four?
Aha! The bottle is mercifully half-full, and its contents appear to look as if they should suit our purpose nicely.
Anakin is still standing in the same place and I approach him slowly, taking my time to admire the beauty of his naked body. He smirks for just a second before I quickly bridge the distance between us.
'You're still sure?' I ask, praying that he is.
'Yes… just… tell me what to do,' he says, eyeing the bottle in my hand.
'The couch,' I tell him, gesturing toward the old piece of furniture, the same one I've had to warn him countless times to keep his boots off of. We move closer to it and he turns away from me, bracing himself against the back of it.
I breathe shakily, casting a long glance over the slope of his back, the inviting curve of his bottom, the sculpted perfection of his long legs. I lower my trousers, toss them aside, and flip open the cap on the bottle.
'This will be cool for a moment,' I tell him. He glances back at me and nods, flinching slightly when I rub a generous amount of the lubricant into the cleft of his ass. I proceed to slick some more over my cock.
'I love you, Anakin.' It comes out as a whisper as I press in close to him, running the hand not wet with lubricant from his shoulder down to his hip. He doesn't respond, but for now it's enough that he doesn't pull away.
I guide myself ever so slowly, ever so gently into him, one agonizingly slow inch at a time until I'm buried inside of him to the hilt, suppressing a gasp at the exquisitely tight sensation. 'Are you okay?' I ask, watching as his jaw unclenches and he nods, exhales, seemingly incapable of speech at this moment.
'Tell me if it becomes too much for you,' I say, then pull back slightly before pressing forward once more. Short, measured thrusts as I hold myself back, giving him time to adjust, to get used to it.
I slowly increase the pace and depth of each plunge forward into him, gauging his comfort by the sound of his breathing, the way his head tilts back a little further with each passing minute, his eyes closed.
He feels so good. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of being this close to him, being inside of him.
Then his hand is over mine, and he says my name, an unmistakable plea in his voice.
'Obi-Wan. Master,' he groans.
'Yes, padawan?' I manage, stilling my movements.
'Fuck me,' he says. 'Just… please fuck me.' He cranes his head and loops his arm back up and around my neck, pulling me in close to kiss him as we both give into it, into each other.
I drive forward into him and he moans into my mouth. I increase my pace, completely unbridled now, thrusting harder, faster. He wrenches his lips from mine, his head falling forward as he grips the back of the couch so hard the knuckles on his flesh hand turn white.
A delicious tension builds up inside of me as I slam into him, coiling and gathering in my balls until I can't hold on any longer. I come in him, bursts of pleasure so intense that for a moment it feels as if I might pass out.
I collapse against his back, slick with sweat, drawing air into my lungs in grateful, deep breaths.
'Are you okay?' I ask, shivering, once I can talk again, and then press a soft kiss to his shoulder.
'Yes.' His answer, shaky but not uncertain. His flesh hand covers mine and he entwines his fingers with mine. 'Everything's going to be different now, isn't it?'
I withdraw from him, gently turning him to face me. 'I hope so,' I reply honestly.
'I have to know, though, Obi-Wan.' His expression pensive.
'Know what, Anakin?'
'Tell me why. Why Padmé?'
I'm done hiding my true feelings from him. Not anymore, not after what we've just shared or even everything that came before. Not after what I think (what I hope) we've just embarked upon.
'Because you love her,' I say, reaching out, playing with a damp lock of his hair. 'And because she loves you in return, even if she denies it. You are all through her, Anakin.'
'I don't understand,' he answers, shaking his head, confusion knitting his brow.
'Because until what we just did here, she was the closest I could get to being with you.'
A kind of understanding settles in his gaze, and he nods. A comfortable silence follows, the only sound our breathing as the Force flows softly around us.