A nervous flutter took flight in Anakin's stomach at the tender, hesitant sincerity in Obi-Wan's voice. With a shy smile, he grasped Obi-Wan's fingers and pressed them to his lips. "I told you, you can do whatever you want, remember?" Settling back on the mattress, he folded one arm behind his head. "You need a haircut," he murmured, casually brushing back Obi-Wan's bangs with his other hand. "Might get kind of hard to, uh, see, hmm?" he teased softly, repeatedly letting the strands slip through his fingers.
Resting his chin on Anakin's shoulder, Obi-Wan chuckled a soft 'hmm' of his own as two fingers followed a line down the younger man's chin, scratching through the light patchy stubble to his pronounced voice box. Anakin swallowed nervously, and Obi-Wan watched with fascination as it bobbed, his fingers separating as they traced around either side of it. Closing his eyes with a pleasured sigh, Anakin arched his head back invitingly, and unable to resist the offer, Obi-Wan followed the path of his fingers around it with his tongue, mouthing it delicately, tasting the dried lines of salty sweat and earthy musk that had settled there. With feather-light kisses, his mouth worked its way down to the hollow of the other man's neck, pausing to breathe in the ever-familiar fragrance that marked Anakin; it was often sweaty, definitely uncivilized at the moment, but always, always spiced with all the warm flavors of the desert Obi-Wan hoped Anakin would never outgrow.
With a lap of his tongue into the hollow, Obi-Wan drew back a little, skimming his fingers along the protruding lines of Anakin's collarbone, hesitating over healing abrasions, old scars, faint blemishes he'd never had the opportunity to study before. Marveling at the chiseled planes of Anakin's chest as they passed under his open palm, he skated slow circles around one darkened nipple with a single, inquisitive, teasing finger. Encouraged by the soft whimper that escaped from Anakin, Obi-Wan rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as the other man arched up, then closed his mouth around the sensitized skin, sucking, until he was rewarded with a choked off curse from Anakin.
"Language, Anakin," he couldn't help but tease, openly laughing against warm skin when the other man simply groaned and relaxed back down on the bunk. Obi-Wan opened his palm again, sliding it slowly and deliberately down the center of Anakin's chest, over the channel of his sternum, past his ribs, and dragged his fingers over and around the deep outlines of muscle on his stomach, smiling to himself as the younger man twitched under Obi-Wan's touch.
Continuing unhindered in his visual and tactile campaign, Obi-Wan's fingers toyed with the very light line of hair that began just above the other man's navel, while his eyes followed its path downward until it disappeared enticingly under the loose waistband, Anakin's obvious erection leaving little doubt as to where it ended. Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, absorbing and savoring the illicit image suddenly invading his thoughts.
With a swirl of his tongue around Anakin's navel, Obi-Wan shifted his gaze back up to Anakin's face, taking in each breathless gasp, each bite of his lip, each careless toss of his head that brought a cascade of hair across his face, as he mouthed his way back up Anakin's writhing torso. Resting his chin on the younger man's chest again, Obi-Wan gently pried white teeth away from moist lip, caressing the indented flesh with the pad of his thumb.
Anakin cracked open his eyes with a slow, satisfied grin. "Hey," he said lazily, bunting his lips against Obi-Wan's thumb. He unfolded his arm from behind his head and settled it on his Master's shoulder, tracing idly around the now pinkish blaster burn, one corner of his mouth curving up with a saucy tilt. "Done looking?" he said in a suggestive drawl, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan nodded, heart racing from Anakin's all-consuming gaze that was just this side of a leer. "For now," he divulged, his voice low and gravelly. He flicked his eyes down, following the straying finger on his shoulder, and inhaled sharply. "However," Obi-Wan gave Anakin a heated, pointed look as he skimmed his hand lightly across the younger man's chest, around his other nipple, and down his side, "I do reserve the right to return at any time."
"The right, huh?" Anakin raised an eyebrow, stroking a finger along Obi-Wan's jaw. "I don't know, sounds kind of possessive, Master."
Obi-Wan responded with an answering arch of his brow. "Hmm, does it?" He sniffed dismissively. "Well, I guess you would be the authority on that here" he chided airily with a poke to Anakin's chest. "So do tell me, former Padawan of mine, does being your Master gain me no privilege? Only death-defying rescues and suicidal piloting?"
"Hey!" Anakin grasped Obi-Wan's prodding fingertip and narrowed his eyes. "My piloting's not suicidal. It's..." Tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he searched for the word, he flashed a cocksure grin down at Obi-Wan as it came to him. "Innovative. Master Tiin once said he's never seen anything like it," Anakin informed him proudly, running his hands across Obi-Wan's shoulders and down his back, scratching lightly with his nails on his way up.
"Mmm," Obi-Wan turned to rest his cheek on Anakin's shoulder, melting with satisfaction when the younger man reached a spot between his shoulder blades. "I don't think that was necessarily a compliment, Anakin," he mumbled low against his chest, intentionally baiting a reaction from his pride-afflicted partner. Obi-Wan craned his neck to gaze up at the younger man, eyes twinkling in amused anticipation.
"Oh, that's it," Anakin bucked up and growled, eyes blazing, breath huffing in outrage even knowing full well he'd been played. "You want privilege, Obi-Wan?" he demanded and pulled at the other man's shoulders, urging him up. "Okay, then." Without warning, Anakin fell back, instantly passive, gently settling his Master's weight more fully upon him. "I'll give you privilege," he whispered solicitously, softening his gaze as he raked his fingers up through the hair at Obi-Wan's nape, massaging the cords in his neck.
Undaunted by Anakin's mercurial moods, Obi-Wan nevertheless felt like he had just been privileged to one of his former Padawan's innovative piloting maneuvers; he felt unsettled, unbalanced, and undeniably exhilarated. He couldn't help but be struck by the ferocity of Anakin's belief in his skills, the way his eyes burned and his face glowered, exuding a righteousness that was nearly impossible to deny. On anyone else, it might have been unattractive. On Anakin, it was positively magnetic.
Obi-Wan knew Anakin had an ego, definitely, but it had always been about his gifts, his abilities, what he could do and how he did it better than anyone else. He knew Anakin was aware of other beings' attraction to him—he was still banned from Hapan airspace, after all—but to his credit, he had never seemed to place any value on his aesthetic qualities. When Anakin had chosen dark brown and black for his tunics, Mace had railed at Obi-Wan about how it was a blatant ego trip, a way to flatter and bring attention to himself, unbecoming of a Jedi. With considerable finesse, Obi-Wan had managed to convince Mace that it was a practical choice; being from a desert world, Anakin was often chilled and the darker colors retained more heat.
Privately, however, Obi-Wan tended to believe it was more of a subconscious defense mechanism, the darker colors exuding power and strength, two things a former slave like Anakin would never wish to relinquish again, while also casting deep shadows in which to conceal flaws from others, whether they be literal rips and tears or much more troublesome emotions and attachments. That they did, indeed, make him more attractive was an unintended...benefit. The leather, well... Obi-Wan had to concede that may have been a more conscious choice. Not that he had ever really complained.
Obi-Wan dipped his head forward, groaning as Anakin's talented fingers eased away knots Obi-Wan hadn't even been aware of. "Now that...that's a privilege," he sighed blissfully and lifted his head, blinking at Anakin through pleasure-glazed eyes. Murmuring his gratitude, Obi-Wan cupped Anakin's face and leaned up into a lingering kiss, gentle and unhurried. Anakin parted his lips, seeking entry, and Obi-Wan yielded to him, allowing Anakin to draw his Master's tongue into his mouth, languidly sliding alongside the other, deliberately hot, wet and messy.
As he withdrew, Obi-Wan slowly wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, awestruck by the sinfully sensual image Anakin evoked in this moment, all moist, swollen lips that caught the light and dark, needy eyes that swallowed it. Entranced, he tilted his head in wonderment, tracing his forefinger through the shiny wetness on Anakin's lips. "Beautiful," he whispered with a tender adoration, a breathy invocation that escaped his mouth before even being given conscious thought.
"W-what?" Explicitly sexual remarks from strangers, revoltingly base propositions from dignitaries, Anakin could handle those, with a nudge of the Force or a flick of his lightsaber, if necessary. Having Obi-Wan just look him over earlier—that was thrilling, exciting, kind of naughty, even. An uncharacteristic blush crept up Anakin's face. Having Obi-Wan actually say such a personal, subjective thing—and like that—it was surreal, a fantasy. "N-not really," he stammered, not knowing how he was supposed to answer.
"Yes, Anakin, you are," Obi-Wan replied emphatically as he scanned his face, taking a moment to pet at his cheek endearingly. With a self-conscious smile, he let out a long, resigned sigh. "And..." He rolled back on to his side, averting his eyes as he rubbed lightly at Anakin's hipbone. "I don't know why someone like you would want..." This, he was surprised to find himself despairing, casting a look down over his weary, war-torn body, over bruises and bacta patches and bloodied welts, suddenly and acutely aware of his...mediocrity.
Obi-Wan had never indulged in any kind of personal vanity; he had been more than content with the physical performance of his body, the strength and endurance it provided him, even finding tactical advantage in his shorter stature and rather ordinary appearance in undercover operations. He was what the Force had made him. But so was Anakin, and the Force had made him...magnificent. Not since that day in the Council's chambers, when he stood helpless and mortified listening to Qui-Gon list 'capable' as his greatest attribute, had Obi-Wan felt so painfully inadequate. Never before had he felt so self-conscious, so unremarkable.
"The Force radiates from within you, Anakin, I can see it," he smiled valiantly at Anakin, skating a wavering hand over the other man's hip and up his side to press flat and warm above his heart. "I can feel it, drawing life to you unlike anything else I have ever witnessed. You are the Chosen One. I'm just...me. Why would you ever want—"
"Don't, Obi-Wan," Anakin hushed with a shake of his head, covering Obi-Wan's mouth with a hand. "Don't say that," he pleaded softly, shifting on to his side and pulling his Master into a series of kisses, each one hotter, needier, more desperate than the last, infused with all his desire and devotion for this man. Breathless, Anakin rested his forehead against Obi-Wan's, stroking at his cheek in awed adoration. "There's only ever been you, don't you get it?"
With a heavy sigh, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, leaning in to the gentle touch with the faintest of smiles. He knew Anakin loved him, believed it in his heart, felt it in the way Force now sang across their bond in contented harmony. It was one thing to accept that Anakin could love him; they had spent over a decade living, fighting, sometimes barely surviving, together, that even for all of Obi-Wan's reticence and difficulty surrendering to Anakin's certain point of view, it hadn't been too great of a leap to make.
It was another thing entirely to be comfortable believing that someone as impassioned and vibrant and alive as Anakin Skywalker could truly desire him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, when Anakin could effortlessly hold the galaxy in the palm of his hand with just a smile if he chose to. "How can you say that?" he asked quietly, instantly hating himself for asking the question, for needing the validation to squelch the insidious insecurities prickling under his skin.
"How can I say that?" Anakin repeated incredulously, finding himself equally frustrated and amused by his Master's glaring, self-effacing blind spot when it came to himself. Uncomfortable with praise, humble to a fault, Anakin knew no one was a harder, more demanding and exacting master than Obi-Wan was on himself. Still astounded, Anakin just shook his head. "Obi-Wan...Force, you really, really don't know, do you?" He threw back his head, his manic laugh ringing out loudly in the confines of the small room.
"Apparently not?" Obi-Wan scowled, perturbed, even as Anakin brushed his lips against his, still chuckling. He had forgotten how infuriatingly smug Anakin could be when he thought he had information his Master did not; the fact that Anakin had insinuated he was holding information about him was untenable. Besieged by crippling doubts and increasingly distressed by the fact that Anakin had not yet answered his question, he lowered his eyes and pursed his mouth, steeling himself. "Just...just tell me, Anakin."
"Oh, Master. For such a smart man..." Cradling his Master's face in his hands, Anakin swept his thumbs over the deep lines creasing Obi-Wan's brow, smoothing away the troubled frown that had left deep furrows in his beard, his own endearing smile dissolving into a devilish smirk. "I can say that," he started slowly, waiting for his painfully unaware Master to look at him, "because of the way you drive me crazy just walking across a room at a peace conference with this confident swagger you don't even know you have. I can say that because of the way I break into a sweat watching you pull off your cloak in that agonizingly slow way of yours, like it's some kind of...of virtuous striptease, and because of the way my stomach does backflips when I hear the sound your lightsaber makes when it slaps against your thigh. I can say that because of the irritating way you use up all the hot water and still I don't care because I know you're in there wet and naked and I just like imagining it," he confessed in a staged whisper, winking as the salacious words rolled off his tongue.
"A-Anakin!" Obi-Wan choked out, staring at him in shock, mouth continuing to move but uttering no sound. There had been others over the years for Obi-Wan, quick, impersonal entanglements to relieve tension or base lust, but never once had he mistaken those encounters for the kind of consuming desire Anakin spoke of. What he was saying about Obi-Wan now was lewd, beyond explicit, completely ridiculous...and it sent an aching surge of arousal through him. Suppressing a betraying moan, Obi-Wan blushed furiously at the idea of Anakin thinking about him like that, imagining him naked... "I...I do not..." he protested hotly, trying for affronted, but barely managing to hold on to flustered, as his voice broke, "...swagger."
"Yes, you do. Now shush, there's more," Anakin interrupted with a wicked grin, leaning in to drag the tip of his tongue up and around the curve of Obi-Wan's ear. "You asked, I'm telling, you're listening," he ordered hot and insistent in the other man's ear, lowering his voice further, tone dirty and suggestive and irresistible. "I can say that because of all the times I've had to rush back to my room after sparring with you, hard as kriffing durasteel, because I'd spent the last hour staring at the sweat sliding down your chest as you prowl around me, taunting me, throwing me to the mat, and the only thing I can smell is you all over me as I'm getting myself off," he hissed, grazing his teeth against the rounded lobe, sucking it wetly into his mouth.
"I...you...you what?" Obi-Wan's voice broke high on the last word as Anakin bit down on his ear, sending waves of pained pleasure through him. His eyes squeezed shut as, unbidden, images of some of their more spirited matches as of late, the crackling tension, the heated exchanges, flashed behind his closed lids. He saw Anakin then taking himself in hand, still drenched in sweat as he stroked long and slow over his length... Obi-Wan shuddered visibly, his stomach muscles clenching tightly, this time unable to control the low sound of uninhibited need that rumbled out of him.
Anakin smirked at the sound, nodding smugly. "Oh, it's true. Remember just before we deployed for Shylera? You kicked my ass...pinned me to the floor...yelled at me to focus?" he prompted, chuckling triumphantly when he felt Obi-Wan stiffen below him, imagining the scandalized expression on his face, knowing his Master remembered that session as well. "Oh yeah. All I could think about was you—all the way to Shylera, Master," he gloated, nosing his way back along Obi-Wan's cheek, drawing him into a flirty, playful, nipping kiss.
Wide-eyed and unable to temper the inflamed desire storming through him, Obi-Wan let out a soft, almost pained whine as his mouth fell slack against the younger man's, succumbing to the parade of erotic and illicit images Anakin's confessions had conjured. "A-Anakin," he stammered helplessly as he pulled away, breath ragged, trying grasp any tendril of focus he could summon as his eyes darted wildly over the younger man's face.
Anakin sighed, a twinge of frustration welling up within him. "No, wait. Wait. Before you say anything, let me finish, okay?" he pleaded, turning serious as he placed his palm over Obi-Wan's heart, absorbing the thundering rhythm as he stared with intense conviction into those oft-troubled, ever-changing blue-green-gray eyes. "I...I want you to understand...you have to understand..." he licked his lips, letting out a shaky breath. "That I can say all of this because I love you, and there's only you, Obi-Wan, there will only ever be you," he promised adamantly. With a hint of nervous hesitation, Anakin took hold of Obi-Wan's hand, gliding it slowly down between them, hovering just above the taut laces of his own leggings. His eyes bored into Obi-Wan's, reflecting the buildup of intense desire frantically seeking release. "I...I want only you, okay?"
Beyond overwhelmed, Obi-Wan's words failed him and he simply nodded. Holding his breath, he followed the path of their hands, swallowing hard as his eyes flicked between Anakin's straining erection and the open, trusting, wanting, loving reflection in Anakin's eyes. I love you...there will only ever be you...I want only you... Acting on pure instinct and abandoning any hint of prudence or care, Obi-Wan undauntedly flung himself wide open to the Force, to that familiar, welcome, fiery brilliance that was Anakin, and pulled it to him, enveloping Anakin's Force-Signature with his own until they were one again, searching desperately for some kind of answer, some sort of assurance that this, he, was what Anakin truly wanted. "Are you certain?" he whispered hoarsely, his penetrating stare mirroring his unrelenting hold on their merged signatures. "Are you certain this is what you..what you want?"
Anakin's eyes locked on Obi-Wan's, staring open-mouthed at the almost suffocating intrusion of Obi-Wan's Force-Signature into his, the way the other man's very essence scoured through him, demanding passage, igniting every midichlorian he touched along the way. It was an exquisite torture, to feel so consumed, so needed, by someone he loved and desired more than anything in the , Anakin covered Obi-Wan's hand with his own, pressing both down against his length, biting his lip, eyes fluttering when his cock throbbed under the pressure. "You're all I've ever wanted, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I want you," Anakin swore effusively, his voice tight, rough, demanding. Dragging his lusty gaze up back up to Obi-Wan, he arched his hips up pointedly, growling low in his throat. "I know you're the Negotiator and all, but can we, uh, have less talking and maybe more, uh, action now?"
Obi-Wan's eyes widened, startled by Anakin's boldness, a violent shiver racing up from his hand and all the way through him as Anakin's searing, palpable desire, rampant and wild, saturated their bond, permeating their entwined signatures, until Obi-Wan no longer had the ability, nor the will, to separate its origin. It was Anakin's, it was Obi-Wan's, it was in them, it was them.
Eyes darkening and sparking with a predatory gleam, trying to hide a pleased, self-satisfied smile, Obi-Wan shook his head, sighing even as he daringly palmed the length of Anakin's cock over the loose fabric of his leggings. "Always so impatient," he scolded with a mocking lift of his eyebrow. "Perhaps I should just...stop?" Obi-Wan insinuated drolly, slowing his hand to a torturous crawl, fingers barely skimming along the outline of the younger man's erection.
Anakin's hand shot up in a flash, closing around his Master's wrist. "N-no. D-don't you dare," he threatened, the authority in his voice slipping just a little to betray his barely concealed anxiety and desperation. "Please, Master, no more teasing," he begged, gliding the top of his foot under Obi-Wan's ankle, hooking his calf around his Master's and entangling their legs with a slow, sliding movement that brought them even closer. "Not now, not after all this. Please, I just...I want you." Relaxing his grip, he folded his fingers with Obi-Wan's, staring at his Master with impossibly dark, knowing eyes. "I...I think you want this, too," he said softly, beginning a slow drag of their joined hands over his cock. "Don't stop?"
Nudging away Anakin's hand, Obi-Wan brought trembling fingers to the laces on Anakin's leggings. "You are singularly difficult to resist when you do that, you know," he chastised, the words rattling low in his throat as he drew a single finger through the ties, loosening them just enough to reveal a hint of blond beckoning from just below the waistband. Captivated by the sight, by the awareness that this was Anakin, Obi-Wan shakily pushed aside the fold of fabric, following the enticing 'v' of muscle with his fingers downward until they brushed against the coarse gathering of curls just under the flap.
He bit his lip, watching with a thrill of disbelief as his hand slipped in further, tentatively encircling the smooth, hot, hardness of Anakin's arousal. With a slight downward press, Obi-Wan slid his palm up the shaft, tracing exploring fingers around and over the head with the lightest of touches, sucking in a sharp breath when Anakin pushed up against his hand with a grunted sigh and tightened his fingers in Obi-Wan's hair.
The possessive, almost painful hold Anakin had on him compelled Obi-Wan to glance up, immediately lured into the depths of hungry lust burning in the younger man's eyes, burning for him. Empowered by the needy moans and shallow thrusts Anakin was making into his hand, Obi-Wan crushed his lips against Anakin's in a bruising, owning kiss, releasing a torrent of carnal passion he had thus far refused to acknowledge in himself, unwilling, unable to keep it buried behind a veil of propriety that no longer existed between the two of them.
Parting his lips, Anakin willingly lost himself in the raw emotion emanating from Obi-Wan, allowing passage to his Master's questing tongue, across his lips, against his teeth, along his tongue, strangling a moan as the heel of Obi-Wan's hand found his balls and pressed just right. "O-Obi-Wan, kriff yes," he cursed, breaking away from his mouth with a loud hiss. "Please," he mumbled breathlessly into Obi-Wan's neck as he slid a hand up between them, snuffling through the whiskers along his jaw, "can I...can I touch, too?"
"As much as I am enjoying this, ahhh—" Obi-Wan moaned softly and arched his neck, encouraging Anakin to the other side of his jaw, "this new-found deference of yours—" Thoroughly distracted now by roving lips and the presence of that very solicitous hand, Obi-Wan lapsed into an erratic rhythm of strokes up and down Anakin's length. "Y-you can do...whatever...you want," he sputtered, canting his hips up to trap both their hands firmly between them. "There...there aren't any rules..." he managed to banter between pleasured gasps, beginning a slow grind against Anakin's large open palm with a decidedly cheeky grin. "Remember?"
"Gl-glad you're finally listening," Anakin groaned with relief, nibbling along a tendon in Obi-Wan's neck, unbelievably turned on by his usually reticent, always-in-control Master's surprisingly uncivilized behavior. Relishing the unrelenting pressure against his hand, knowing that, kriff, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi making such a brazen suggestion, he licked a long stripe up the column of Obi-Wan's throat, feasting on a spot just to the right his chin. Wanting more access, a better angle, Anakin twisted his wrist and dragged his fingers up along the other man's leggings to free his hand, trembling when he realized that the rough weave beneath his fingers had somehow given way to the sinfully soft glide of skin on skin.
Risking a downward glance, Anakin froze, choking back an involuntary moan. Just beyond where his hand lay warm and promising against pale skin, the already-loosened ties of Obi-Wan's leggings had come undone completely, separating the panels enough for Anakin to take in the full, glorious view of Obi-Wan for the first time. "Master," he rasped with near reverence as he tentatively folded his long fingers around Obi-Wan's length, beginning with slow experimental touches, eager to learn what Obi-Wan liked, growing bolder and more confident as he tightened his grip on the downstroke and brushed it loose and light on the up. Anakin trailed his fingertips over the veins on the underside and circled his thumb through the wetness gathering on the tip, delighting in the surprised gasp from Obi-Wan. "Like that?" he asked with a smug, suggestive lilt, circling his thumb again as he squeezed the shaft gently.
"Yes," Obi-Wan growled, retaliating by tightening his grip around Anakin's cock as he slid his hand almost painfully down its length, pausing to pet at the soft skin at the base, his fingers brushing teasingly lower until the younger man cried out and jerked his hips. "Like that?" he asked just as smugly, bringing his hand back up the shaft even as he sought Anakin's touch once again with another upward press.
Anakin nodded wordlessly, rocking into Obi-Wan's hand as urgently as his Master rocked into his, tight, loose, fast, slow, the touches and sensations all melting together. "Need you, need more," he grunted feverishly against Obi-Wan's mouth before devouring him in another scorching exchange of lips and tongues and teeth.
Obi-Wan groaned in agreement and shifted beneath him, pulling and clawing at Anakin until he could slip his hands under the waistband of his leggings, rucking them down lower over his hips. Splaying his hands over Anakin's exposed backside, Obi-Wan eagerly beckoned Anakin down to him, both men crying out against the other's lips from the blissfully excruciating stimulation as their groins came into alignment. Breath harsh in their lungs, they rested their foreheads together and began a slow rhythm between them, bared length slipping, sliding, then thrusting mercilessly against bared length, each releasing soft grunts and muffled curses as the friction between their bodies increased unbearably.
"Ana-nughhhh" Obi-Wan called out unintelligibly, clenching Anakin's hips as his eyes rolled up at a particularly wicked thrust between them. "W-wait," he gasped, trying to catch his breath as one hand stole up to push at the younger man's shoulder, frantically seeking some kind of reprieve from the overwhelming onslaught of sensation they had unleashed against each other. "You need to...need to stop," he pleaded, blinking hard and gulping for air.
At the push on his shoulder, Anakin instantly stilled himself, shifting his weight to his knees as he rested his forehead on Obi-Wan's chest, taking deep drags of air. "R-right, your hip, I...I forgot," he smiled sheepishly against the warm skin, lips tickled by the soft hairs there. "You...it...it just feels so...mmm..." he mumbled as he pressed a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the center of Obi-Wan's chest in apology. "I should have been more careful—"
"No, no," Obi-Wan panted as he shook his head, affectionately raking his fingers through the spill of curls on his chest and up into Anakin's hair. "I'm fine. No, really, I am," he insisted when Anakin lifted his head, petting the younger man's cheek in response to the skeptical expression on his face. "It's just that, I'm not quite in my b-best form right now," he sighed self-consciously, "and if you...if you don't stop...that...I'm going to..." he inclined his head down between them, giving Anakin a very pointed look.
Understanding, and amused by his Master's perceived predicament, Anakin smirked and nuzzled his cheek against Obi-Wan's. "Uh huh...and this is a bad thing, why?" he asked with a heated growl against his ear, sliding his cock along Obi-Wan's again with a sly grin. "I don't know, right now you look like you're in pretty good form to me, Master."
"S-stop that!" Obi-Wan protested with a strangled moan, unable to stop himself as his hips bucked up with an answering shameless grind of his cock against Anakin's. "You're absolutely incorrigible," he reprimanded with a throaty laugh, forcibly holding Anakin aloft when his former Padawan tried to lower his hips against his once again. "It's a bad thing because...because..." Obi-Wan looked away, cursing under his breath when he felt the blush warming his face again. "Force," he grumbled as he blew out a sharp, frustrated breath.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had negotiated far more difficult and complex situations than this, and yet he found himself fumbling for the simplest of words, assailed by an untimely sense of modesty he thought he'd left behind somewhere between his discarded laces and Anakin's meandering hands. "Rutting against each other like a couple of nerfs in heat—while, er, undoubtedly effective—is not what I had in mind for...for..." Obi-Wan cleared his throat nervously. "Our..first...time together," he revealed softly, focusing intently on the thumb petting slow circles along an orangy dust-smudged collarbone.
"You...you've thought about this?" Anakin's voice cracked, his heart and mind racing from the implications of what Obi-Wan was saying, that what he wanted with Anakin was more than a rushed convenience, that being with Anakin meant something to him beyond meeting a biological need or achieving some kind of meaningless, fleeting satisfaction. Inundated by an ardent wave of profound gratification and happiness, Anakin took in a shaky breath and pressed his face into Obi-Wan's outstretched arm, brushing his lips over a lonely mole there. "So...Master Kenobi, um, what did you have in mind?"
Obi-Wan turned his face to Anakin's, cupping his hand against the back of his head to draw him closer. In truth, he had never consciously thought about this moment with Anakin—the true Jedi in him would never have envisioned a reason to, much less any kind of scenario—about what he would want, and need, for the first time he intimately shared all of himself with Anakin. A simple brush along their bond and the answering enveloping warmth confirmed his unwavering belief that any sort of quick sordid release between them would be woefully unfulfilling at best, and absolutely unworthy of the depth of trust and love they had spent a lifetime building together. Obi-Wan wanted to give Anakin everything of himself he had so selfishly and fearfully been withholding for too long; Anakin deserved that. They both did.
Threading his fingers through the curls on Anakin's neck, a small, shy smile ghosted his lips before he looked up into the younger man's deep blue eyes. "I want...you, Anakin." Obi-Wan swallowed the lump in his throat, an anxious breath catching in his chest as he lifted Anakin's hand, pressing it to his lips as he laced their fingers together. "I want you..." he repeated in a ragged near-whisper, guiding their hands down between them, folding their fingers around both their cocks, "...inside me." Shaking slightly, he gently contracted their hands and gazed at Anakin with devout, heartfelt longing. "Please."