Anakin Skywalker, what can I say about him? He's the epitome of the Galactic Army of the Republic, a true hero of war, and the Jedi's golden child. He's loved by all, from the destitute beggars in the grimy underbelly of Coruscant to the Supreme Chancellor himself.
Yes, Anakin Skywalker had it all. He knew he was a looker, with a body that could make anyone weak in the knees. He knew he was clever in that street-smart way that comes from a life of enslavement. And he knew he was a seasoned and respected commander, admired by all the soldiers of the 501st.
But despite all of his accomplishments, Anakin found himself sulking in his quarters during some much-needed rest and relaxation. There he sat, nervously tugging at a bothersome thread hanging from the sleeve of his Jedi robe.
You see, there was one aspect of himself that Anakin refused to acknowledge, a part of him that he considered too unbearable to face. He was born a sub, or a submissive, in plain terms. But not just any sub, oh no. Anakin had to be a super-sub. This rare breed of submissive couldn't ignore their primal instinct to submit for long, and even partnering with another sub didn't bring him any relief. If anything, it made him feel a thousand times worse, as if the Force itself was mocking him for his foolishness.
Why, in the name of the Force, was he cursed like this? Who the hell knew? It was as if the universe decided to brand people with either dominant or submissive natures, and poor Anakin got stuck with the latter. Sure, there were countless millions who didn't have these afflictions, but was Anakin lucky enough to be one of them? Of course not.
Many a day, he would gaze at his ridiculously handsome face in the mirror. The sharp angles of his square jaw, the high cheekbones, and that mop of dirty blonde hair framing his brilliantly blue eyes. Thick eyebrows nestled above those eyes, enhancing their allure. He'd scoff at his own reflection, wondering how someone so powerful and bursting with raw sexual appeal could be expected to submit to lesser beings. When one looked like Anakin, he was supposed to maintain his power and have the ability to suppress his submissive nature without his mind spiralling into madness. But no, that was not happening for Anakin, but there was no way he could accept this reality, not unless Sith's hell froze over first.
As he grew older, Anakin noticed that his submissive nature started to awaken with a primal desire. That must be it, right? All he needed was to dominate someone in the bedroom. Surely, that would unleash his true dominant nature, the one that refused to answer his desperate calls during his meaningless attempts at meditation with the Force.
Anakin Skywalker, the walking contradiction, huffed as he observed the traffic buzzing by the transparisteel of his quarters. The colours projected on the walls created a dizzying display. It dawned on the poor sub that there was no more putting it off. Damn it all to Sith's hell, he thought as a headache began to throb relentlessly. The galaxy could burn for all he cared, but this headache was getting unbearable.
As his resolve wavered, Anakin flung his arm up and urgently tapped his Comm, connecting to Rex. "Skywalker to Rex. Come in, please," he pleaded.
"Evening, General. What can I do for you?" Rex's voice, as familiar as an old friend, echoed through the line.
"Umm, code beta five," Anakin confessed, his shame enveloping him like an ice storm on Hoth, freezing him to the core.
"Right, you are, General. You know where I am. Give me twenty minutes to kick out the lads," Rex responded, understanding the gravity of the situation.
Anakin, his head still pounding from the tumultuous thoughts swirling within, made a hasty decision to freshen up before making his way to Rex's place. He needed a moment to collect himself, to wash away the remnants of his internal struggle.
Ah, the fresher. It is the perfect place for a man to confront his most intimate thoughts while scrubbing away the dirt of the day. Anakin stood under the warm spray, his naked body exposed and vulnerable, much like his own psyche. The water cascaded over him, soothing his aching muscles but doing little to ease the throbbing headache that pulsed behind his temples.
Anakin's internal monologue raged on, his thoughts echoing in the tiled room. "Why do I have to be a sub? It's infuriating," he grumbled, his voice tinged with frustration. "Here I am, a Jedi Knight, a leader, and yet, I'm powerless to deny this part of myself."
His hands moved methodically, lathering his body with soap, the slickness of the suds gliding over his skin. It was a familiar routine, a ritual almost as if the act of washing away the grime could somehow cleanse him of the undeniable truth that lay within.
"But I don't want to be a sub," Anakin protested to himself, his voice filled with defiance. "I want to be the one in control, calling the shots. Isn't that what being a Jedi is about?"
He closed his eyes briefly, his face contorted with anguish and confusion. The water continued to rain down, washing away the remnants of doubt and self-deception. Anakin's fingers trailed along the curve of his jaw, a futile attempt to grasp the slippery truth that eluded him.
With a deep sigh, Anakin leaned against the cool tiles, his forehead pressed against the smooth surface. "Why does it have to be Rex?" he muttered, his voice heavy with resignation. "Of all people, my best friend, my confidant. He's the one who knows me better than anyone but has to see me as the pathetic creature that I am."
As his fingers absentmindedly traced the rivulets of water dripping down his chest, Anakin couldn't help but feel a strange prickling of resentment. The idea of submitting to Rex, of relinquishing control, made his heart race and his body tingle with anticipation. And yet, it also stirred a deep-seated anger, a rebellion against his own submissive nature.
The soap slipped from his grasp, clattering against the shower floor. Anakin's frustration swelled, mirroring the pounding ache in his head. "Why can't I just be dominant? Why does it have to be this way?" he questioned, his voice trailing off into the steam-filled air. Like his headache, his anger grew more intense with each passing moment.
Anakin's grip tightened on the shower handle, the water splashing against his back as he fought against the waves of conflicting emotions. He was a Jedi, damn it! A warrior. A master of his own destiny. And yet, here he stood, aching for the touch of a dominant hand, yearning to relinquish control to someone else.
The suds slid down his body, mingling with the frustration that seemed to coat his very skin. "I shouldn't have to rely on Rex," he muttered, his voice filled with defiance and childish self-pity. "I should be able to handle this myself."
But as the water continued to rain down upon him, Anakin's resistance crumbled like wet sand. Oh, how he hated sand! Deep down, he knew that denying his submissive nature would only lead to more pain and more inner turmoil. It was like trying to suppress a raging inferno with a mere breath.
Anakin sank to his knees on the shower floor with a heavy heart. The water poured over him, a baptism of sorts, cleansing his body and washing away the remnants of his resistance. He closed his eyes, allowing the droplets to mingle with the tears that silently streamed down his face.
"I can't fight this anymore," he whispered in surrender and acceptance. "Maybe, just maybe, embracing my submissive side doesn't make me weak. Maybe it's a strength, a way to find balance in this chaotic universe." If only it was the simple, but let's face it, Anakin never did anything the easy way.
000
The leisurely stroll to Rex's place didn't do much to alleviate the throbbing ache that radiated through Anakin's body. The streets were teeming with people, and he pulled up the hood of his beloved cloak to conceal his shameful sub-status, even though it wasn't something visible. Not a sub; he was a super sub, as he often reminded himself. The longer he denied his true nature, the stronger the desire to submit became, its relentless will seeping into his vulnerable mind. Anakin sneered at the irony of being submissive to his own submissive nature.
Anakin's mind cried out, "Just end it all now!" as he willed his plea into the depths of the Force. Lost in his thoughts of reaching Rex, he failed to pay attention to his surroundings. Suddenly and without warning, he collided headfirst with a figure he knew all too well, landing on his rear end with a disgruntled huff. Why couldn't he just have one ordinary day, for Force's sake? Was that too much to ask? Anakin was convinced that he was destined for doom, a fact he often vocalised, much to the chagrin of his Jedi persona.
"For the love of the Force, must you be so uncivilised?" came the familiar Coruscanti accent of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Ah, yes. Out of all the damn people in the galaxy, Anakin had to run into Obi-Dom Kenobi (as he was known in certain circles). But no, he was no ordinary dom. The esteemed former Master of Anakin was, of course, a "super-dom." Because, naturally, the Force delighted in taunting him. Why wouldn't it? It had been mocking him since the moment he opened his eyes to this wretched existence. Chosen one, my ass! Chosen to suffer, perhaps, for the perverse amusement of the Force.
"Um, sorry, Sir," Anakin muttered, but his words were drowned out by the cacophony of traffic overhead.
Anakin blushed as he took Obi-Wan's extended hand, feeling a delightful tingle shoot up his spine. "Oh, it's you, dear one. Sorry, what did you say just now?" he asked, trying to regain his composure.
Anakin seethed with frustration. Obi-Dom Kenobi, the famous super-dom adored by all, was always so damn civilised. The one saving grace for a sub with Force abilities was the ability to mask their true nature. Sure, people knew he wasn't a dom, but that didn't mean they automatically assumed he was a sub. At least, that's what Anakin liked to believe.
"Sorry, Master. Rex is dealing with some drama. I have to go. Let's plan on having lunch at Dex's diner soon, yeah?" Anakin didn't wait for a response and quickly left Obi-Dan, or rather, Obi-Wan, with a perplexed expression on his face. He really needed to get laid.
By the time Anakin arrived at Rex's quarters, he was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Before the pounding in his head drove him to the brink of madness, he reached out with the Force to press the intercom button, failing miserably. With a curse at his own failure, he pushed the button with a sweaty finger.
The door whooshed open, and as Anakin looked up while still doubled over from his sprint, he was greeted by his best friend's friendly, sun-kissed face. "Come in, General. You really shouldn't leave things to the last minute," Rex scolded him.
Anakin walked past Rex, his body aching but his breathing now under control, and entered the living area, which was quite a mess. Undoubtedly, his men had quite the party without him to celebrate the beginning of their well-deserved rest and relaxation.
"So, are you absolutely sure it's just code beta-five, Anakin?" Rex's use of his given name eased the pain a little. How absurd and maddening.
"Yes, I'm quite sure," Anakin offered, though it was only half true. Beta-five was code for the simple chores that Rex would demand of him.
"I'm sorry. Are we forgetting something, boy?" Rex said firmly, inspecting his nails with an air of boredom.
"Sorry, Sir. Yes, I'm pretty sure, Sir," Anakin replied, cursing himself for needing to maintain this delicate balance. No, he thought. No. This was just a small price to pay for power. He wouldn't be a sub forever. He knew that.
"Good lad, Anakin. Start with the living quarters, and if you're a good boy, I might just order you to clean my bunk," Rex teased.
"Yes, Sir," Anakin half-spat out, his resentment simmering beneath the surface. How much longer would he have to endure this humiliation? No, he promised himself he wouldn't be a sub forever.
After what felt like an eternity of scrubbing and cleaning on his hands and knees as if he were some lowly servant, Anakin felt a trickle of blood from his nose. The pain refused to subside, and his connection to the Force seemed to wane. Rex was right; he had let this go on for too long. He was slowly withering away and soon would leave nothing but an empty husk behind.
"Anakin, you look absolutely dreadful. Alpha-three?" Rex asked, concern mingling with his stern tone. A single tear escaped from Anakin's lower eyelid as he could only manage a nod, the searing pain rendering him speechless.
"Come here, boy," Rex commanded.
Anakin shuffled over to Rex, keeping one eye closed against the blinding agony.
"Now listen to me, boy," Rex commanded, his voice dripping with authority. "You will kneel and remove my boots. They need a good polish. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir," Anakin replied, his voice obedient but lacking conviction.
"I think you can do better, Anakin," Rex challenged.
"Yes, Master," Anakin corrected himself, hoping to appease his dominant friend.
"Such a good boy, aren't you, Anakin?" Rex praised.
"Yes, Master. Thank you for allowing me to clean your boots, Master," Anakin responded, his annoyance growing with each word. Only his best friend would witness him in this submissive state, but Anakin was determined to find a cure for his predicament. Just watch him.
As Anakin continued to clean Rex's, well, his Master's boots, the pain began to ease ever so slightly. He glanced up to find his best friend looking at him with sadness and concern. Rex knew that this act of submission wasn't enough to silence the whining sub-nature within Anakin.
A wave of cold dread washed over Anakin as he watched Rex sit down and prop his feet on the freshly cleaned coffee table.
"Stop your cleaning, boy," Rex commanded. "You will massage my feet, boy. Your Master has had a rough few weeks."
Anakin swallowed hard as he moved towards his friend's socked feet. "Yes, Master."
Anakin could feel the beast inside him purr a little as he began to massage Rex's feet, providing some relief to the pain in his mind.
"Boy, you know the rules," Rex reminded him. "Take off my socks first. And what's my number one rule, Anakin?"
"Please, Master, may I remove your socks and have the honour of massaging your feet?" Anakin recited, his voice tinged with both submission and desperation.
"Good boy," Rex acknowledged with a simple click of his assent.
Anakin removed the socks and proceeded to work his mechanical and flesh hand over the hot, thankfully almost clean feet, one foot at a time.
Glancing up, Anakin noticed that Rex had drifted off to sleep. He couldn't help but feel grateful for such a kind best friend. After what felt like an hour, the gentle hum of the Force started to return, and with the agony in his mind temporarily lifted, Anakin stood up, resisting the urge to kiss Rex's foot, but a damned blinding pain forced his knees to buckle.
Anakin winced in agony as a blinding pain shot through his body, forcing him to bend over all on fours. It was as if he had lost all control, his will overpowered by some mysterious force. And in that moment, his senses honed in on the one thing that seemed to bring relief - Rex's feet.
With desperation and fear searing his mind, Anakin leaned forward, inhaling the hot and dry scent emanating from Rex's feet. The smell was a potent combination of sweat, leather, and a hint of something musky. Anakin's mind raced as he tried to resist the pull of his submissive nature, begging it to stop, to release him from its grip.
But his pleas fell on deaf ears, as his sub nature tightened its hold on him. Panic surged through Anakin's veins as he realised he couldn't stop himself from indulging in this forbidden act. Every part of him longed to resist, to regain control, but the most genuine submissive desires that lay dormant within him had taken hold.
Trembling, Anakin continued to inhale the intoxicating scent, his heart pounding in his chest. He was consumed by the fear that his dominant friend would wake up and catch him in this compromised state. The thought of Rex's disappointment and judgment only fueled his panic further.
And then, as if guided by some unseen power, Anakin's sub-nature compelled him to take it one step further. He leaned in, his lips grazing Rex's foot, and planted a submissive kiss upon it. In that moment, a wave of relief washed over him, the pain in his body subsiding, and a connection to the Force returned in full.
Anakin finally stood up, his legs feeling steady beneath him once more. He moved to sit next to the peacefully sleeping Rex, gratitude and confusion swirling within him. How had he become entangled in this submissive dance? And what would it mean for his future as a Jedi?
But for now, in the presence of his slumbering dominant friend, Anakin allowed himself a moment of respite. He sat in silence, contemplating the complexities of his desires and the power they held over him. And as dusk approached, he knew this journey towards self-discovery was far from over.
Lost in thought, Anakin shivered as Rex put his strong around him. "I'm sorry, General," Rex said, his voice tinged with understanding. "I could see it wasn't working. I wish you wouldn't leave it so long each time. There is no shame in being a sub. It is natural. I know it must be, as my brothers can be doms, subs, or nothing. It could be the will of your Force, no?"
Anakin's voice, choked with tears, responded, "I hate it, Rex. I am grateful to you, of course, but for the love of the Force, I kriffing hate it. It's not right. I am not a sub, not really. I will find a path to being the dom I was meant to be. I refuse to believe it. It is probably because I was enslaved before I took my first breath. It messed with nature, got all twisted, don't you think?" He paused, taking a deep breath after his long rant.
"I don't know, General," Rex replied, his voice gentle. "As I said, there is no shame. It is only hard for you as a Jedi. The no-attachment bollocks don't help. If it wasn't for that, you could find a dom who would take good care of you, Rex said as he pulled his arm tighter around Anakin, offering his support.
Anakin sighed, his voice filled with gratitude, but it held an undertone of frustration. "Look, I am always here for you, and you know that. Truthfully, your massages help with my dom-nature, and that foot massage will keep me going for a good while. If I were into blokes, I would take you into my room and make your sub-nature sing until the end of time. But the soul wants what it wants, you know?" Rex comfortingly rubbed Anakin's arm.
Anakin chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Ha-ha, thanks, Rex. You're not my type either, buddy."
"Charming as ever," Rex quipped with a wink, making Anakin blush. "Might test that next time."
"Careful now," Anakin playfully warned as he stood up. "I might just surprise you."
"Oh, I almost forgot," Rex interjected, his tone shifting to a more serious note. "General Kenobi messaged me not long before you arrived. You have both been given a mission. He wouldn't give the details."
Anakin, already on his way to the door, paused for a moment. A sense of relief washed over him as he realised he had a good few weeks until his submissive desires would rear their head again. The thought of being consumed by his beastly nature sent a shiver down his spine. "That's new," he thought, perplexed by the unfamiliar sensation.
With a glimmer of hope, Anakin decided to seek solace in the sage advice of his angel Padmé. Perhaps she had stumbled upon a cure for his affliction, a way to rid himself of these tormenting desires. "By all that is good, please let her have the cure," he silently pleaded to the universe. Just as Anakin approached Rex's front door, the Captain bellowed, "Are you forgetting something. Boy?"
"Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Master," Anakin spat, feeling sick to his stomach. Oh, Anakin would find a cure, and then maybe he would make Rex kiss his feet. Anakin blushed and shivered in delight as the cool air of Coruscant hit his face. Or perhaps it was the words, "You are a very good boy, Anakin," that followed the sub out into the night.
000
Anakin paced back and forth outside Padmé's door, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He adored the beautiful former Queen, and at one point, he might have even considered marrying her if it weren't for those pesky wet dreams about Quinlan that started plaguing him in his early teens. Oh, the joys of adolescence.
"Ani, what a lovely surprise. Please come in, come in," Padmé greeted him with a warm smile, her voice as soothing as a lullaby.
Anakin couldn't help but marvel at her radiant beauty. Padmé stood before him, dressed for bed, her hair cascading in two beautiful loose plats and a heavy, gold and blue damask robe hugging her slight frame. She was a vision, the embodiment of grace and elegance.
"What brings you here at this late hour, Ani?" Padmé inquired, her eyes filled with curiosity and concern.
Anakin fumbled for words, his mind scattered like a jigsaw puzzle missing crucial pieces. "Sorry, I didn't wake you, did I?" he managed to mutter.
"No, I was just finishing up a report for the Chancellor," Padmé replied, her voice soft and reassuring.
Anakin took a moment to gather himself, his gaze fixed on her as if she held the answers to all his troubles. "Well, I won't keep you. I was wondering if, umm, well, you know if you found anything that could help with my, umm, my condition?" he finally mustered the courage to ask, his voice trembling with vulnerability.
Padmé's lips curved into a tender smile, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. She reached out, taking his flesh hand in hers, a gesture that sent a jolt of warmth through his entire being. On tiptoes, she pressed a light, delicate kiss on his cheek.
"Ani, you know my thoughts. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you," Padmé reassured him, her voice filled with conviction. "It's just a needless shame for something as natural as breathing. I am confident the cure for the need to breathe is death, Ani."
Anakin's gaze dropped to the floor, his heart heavy with the weight of his desires. But Padmé wouldn't let him wallow in self-pity. She gently placed a soft hand on his cheek, urging him to meet her eyes once more.
"Look at me, Ani," Padmé implored. "As it happens, I did find a Wookie on my recent trip to Kashyyyk who informed me about a plant that can suppress a dom or sub-nature. But I must be honest, it's not the cure you hoped for. It won't make you a dom, as you wish. However, perhaps this is the better road, no?"
Anakin, overcome with gratitude, pulled his oldest friend into his arms, squeezing her tightly in a half-crushing embrace. He quickly realised his exuberance and sheepishly pushed her back a little.
"Amazing, Padmé. You are the best," Anakin exclaimed, his face beaming with relief. "I will go to Kashyyyk right away. How does the entire galaxy not know about this?"
But before Anakin could make any hasty plans, Padmé grabbed his arm, a sense of urgency in her voice. "Ani, there's no need for that. The Wookie gave me a vial of liquid distilled from the plant and a book about its use. Most of the galaxy doesn't see the need for a cure, so they likely wouldn't care. The Wookiees themselves only use it rarely, usually when a dom or sub of a married pair dies. You see, Wookiees live for hundreds of years but mate for life. Some of them, of course, allow their nature to consume them following the pain of losing their mate."
Anakin's eyes fixated on the small bottle in Padmé's hand. This bottle held the promise of salvation, the end to his days as Super-Subakin (a name he used when feeling particularly low). Farewell to the torment, the humiliation, and hello to his true self.
"Just make sure you read the book, Ani," Padmé cautioned. "You'll only need one drop every 30 standard day cycle. There's enough in there for half a lifetime."
Anakin couldn't contain his excitement, his eagerness causing him to bounce on the balls of his feet. Kissing Rex's feet now seemed like a distant, absurd memory. Finally, his life could truly begin in earnest.
"Thank you so much, Padmé. You saved my life. Honestly," Anakin gushed, lavishing his angel with a grateful kiss before darting towards the door. His eagerness to read the book consumed him, fueling reckless thoughts that danced in his mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he drank the entire vial, it would force his nature to align with his deepest desires. He yearned to be a super-dom, a force to be reckoned with.
In Anakin's fantasy world, he, the super-dom, would bring the entire galaxy to its knees. Oh, yes, he had grand plans. Obi-Wan would be his first conquest, eagerly awaiting his commands and ready to surrender. Anakin's imagination ran wild with possibilities, each scenario more explicit than the last.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? Anakin still had a book to read, an instruction manual for his newfound liberation. And so, with a sense of purpose and anticipation, he ran back to his quarters as fast as he could.
000
The book, authored by a Wookie no less, proved to be a less-than-thrilling read. Dry as a desert, Anakin abandoned it after only two pages. But what did he need a book for anyway? He was a genius, after all. The chosen one. And the chosen one was always right. Yes, always right.
With a surge of confidence, Anakin set his plan into motion. How could it not work? He broke the wax seal of the slightly dusty bottle and, without a moment's hesitation, downed its contents in one swift gulp. Oh, yes. This plan would work.
The taste, however, was far from pleasant. It was as if Bantha dung had been distilled into a single, concentrated dose. And the burning sensation that followed was certainly curious. But, ever the optimist (who was he kidding?), Anakin knew deep down that it was a sign. A sign that his plan was working.
"Watch out, Obi-Dom," Anakin whispered to himself, unable to contain his excitement. "Soon, you will be Subi-Wan." Okay, perhaps that name was a bit ridiculous, but Anakin couldn't bring himself to care in his state of elation.
As his stomach churned and he winced in discomfort, Anakin took it as a positive sign. It meant his plan was progressing. It meant that he would soon be giving commands to begging subs, with Obi-Wan at the front of the queue, of course, thank you very much.
Oh, the power that awaited him. Anakin could already taste it, mingling with the burning sensation in his gut. His grand transformation was underway, and nothing would stand in his way.
Anakin's consciousness faded away as the Wookie concoction coursed through his veins, transporting him to a dreamlike realm. In this dream, he found himself seated on a dark, imposing throne, a symbol of his newfound power. The audience before him, all on their knees, awaited his next command. Among them stood Obi-Wan, his face inscrutable, positioned at the bottom steps that led to Anakin's throne.
With a wave of his hand and a self-satisfied smirk, Anakin commanded Obi-Wan to beg for the privilege of becoming his sub. The crowd erupted in applause, revelling in Anakin's arrogance. But as Obi-Wan approached, a subtle arch of his eyebrow hinted at an undercurrent of defiance. Anakin's laughter faltered for a moment as he spluttered a demand, questioning what Obi-Wan thought he was doing.
In a moment that shattered the illusion of Anakin's control, Obi-Wan calmly posed a question in return, his voice steady and measured. He asked Anakin if having Obi-Wan as his sub was truly what Anakin desired. Confusion gripped Anakin's racing mind, his sense of self-assuredness crumbling.
A whispered "no" escaped Anakin's lips, a hesitant admission of uncertainty. Obi-Wan, ever the Master of subtlety, stepped dangerously close to Anakin, taking his chin gently in his hand. With an air of authority, Obi-Wan commanded Anakin to tell him what he truly wanted. The weight of the question hung in the air as Anakin's mind raced to decipher the tangled desires buried within.
In this moment, Anakin's dream became a battleground of conflicting emotions and suppressed truths. The alluring allure of power clashed with a more profound longing, a need for connection and understanding. The lines between dominance and submission blurred, revealing a complexity that Anakin had yet to fully explore.
And so, in the dream's uncertain haze, Anakin grappled with the command, with his own desires, and with the enigmatic presence of Obi-Wan. The answers eluded him, slipping through his fingers like sand (oh, how he hated sand), leaving him yearning for a clarity that seemed just out of reach.
000
Anakin groggily opened his eyes as the sound of Obi-Wan's voice penetrated his sleepy haze. "Dear one. Oh, for goodness sake, ANAKIN. Anakin, WAKE. UP," Obi-Wan exclaimed, his words slicing through the air like a lightsaber. Anakin blinked, his gaze meeting Obi-Wan's serene smile. The plan had worked, and here was Obi-Wan, ready to submit to his every command. Anakin couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. He had won.
"Why are you late? We should have left before dawn," Obi-Wan scolded, his tone betrayed by his dry humour. Anakin smirked, feeling a sense of power. He knew he would have Obi-Wan trained in no time. The Jedi Master would soon be bending to his will, a loyal follower to the most handsome General of the GAR - Anakin himself.
"Is there any reason you are smiling like a bemused Tauntaun? You almost have the ears to be one," Obi-Wan quipped, his raised eyebrow adding to the mockery. Anakin shrugged off the jab, confident in his newfound dominance. "Come on, my lazy former Padawan, get up already," Obi-Wan continued, his tone laced with both kindness and authority. "I mean this with kindness, but you may wish to shower, dear one. You reek of old boots."
Anakin sprung to his feet, eager to please his Master. He quickly obeyed, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the refreshing deluge of water. As the water cascaded down his body, Anakin couldn't help but imagine the thrill of having Obi-Wan on his knees, ready to fulfil his every desire with a simple snap of his fingers. The power surged through him, fueling his anticipation.
"Well, that was easier than I thought. You are acting very off today, Anakin," Obi-Wan bellowed from the kitchen, his voice echoing through the small space. Anakin smirked to himself, relishing in the fact that he had already begun to assert his control. "Do you want me to make you something to eat?"
"As it please you, Master," Anakin replied, his voice dripping with obedience. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, feeling the rush of power coursing through his veins. "It wouldn't please me. In fact, bring us some sandwiches before you meet me at the hangar,"
000
Anakin felt a swell of liberation coursing through his veins, a feeling he hadn't experienced in ages. Ever since his emancipation from slavery, it had taken some time for him to recognise his true submissive nature. During his days as a slave, he had been accustomed to following orders, but it wasn't until now that he truly understood the ache of denying his primal desires. The mere act of obeying commands had once ignited a fiery rage within him, but now it fueled a different kind of fire. How sweet it would be when issuing commands would light the same fire within him. It would taste oh so sweet indeed.
With a skip in his step, Anakin approached Obi-Wan, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. Obi-Wan stood before an agitated trooper, who seemed to tremble under the weight of his commanding gaze. Anakin couldn't help but revel in the power dynamic that was unfolding before him.
"If you are good and complete my orders, we can take things to the next level, Grease," Anakin whispered seductively, his voice laced with promise. "You are a good boy, but Master is already very busy. Do you understand?"
Anakin's body quivered with excitement as Obi-Wan's words washed over him. He couldn't deny the blossoming of his dominant nature, craving to make the trooper succumb to his will. It didn't matter that Obi-Wan was still issuing orders; Anakin knew it was only a matter of time before he had the Jedi Master on his knees, eager to serve.
As Anakin pondered his newfound power, he found himself unsure of where to direct his gaze. The trooper, whose name he now released was Grease, seemed to blush and hastily retreat, bowing his head in a display of submission. Anakin felt a surge of satisfaction at the trooper's response, relishing in the control Obi-Wan seemed to exert over him. Anakin just knew when he issued commands, the bow of supplication would bring his subs to their knees. Not the pathetic little bob of the head Obi-Wan managed to distil from his subs.
"What in Sith's hell was that about?" Anakin questioned, his eyes following Grease's retreat. He was met with Obi-Wan's enigmatic smile, a response that only piqued his curiosity further.
"Nothing that need concern you, dear one. Are you ready? I can brief you on the way," Obi-Wan replied, his tone carrying a hint of mystery. Anakin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, Obi-Wan had already turned and made his way toward the T-6 shuttle.
Anakin couldn't help but feel a ripple of delight. His dominant nature must have already begun to unsettle Obi-Wan, and the thought filled him with a mischievous joy. With a knowing grin, Anakin followed his former Master, eager to embark on this new chapter of their journey together. The thrill of dominance coursed through his veins, setting the stage for a tantalising exploration of power and pleasure.
Anakin sauntered lazily into the shuttle, his mind lost in a haze of self-delusion. The naive Jedi still clung to the belief that he was a dominant force, a master of control. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he revelled in thoughts of foot worship and supplication, his imagination conjuring up vivid scenes where he held all the power. Anakin was yet to understand he was lying to himself, denying the truth that he craved to be the one on his knees, yearning for submission.
His daydream was abruptly shattered as Obi-Wan's voice cut through the air, barking at him to hurry up. Anakin's smile widened, his heart pounding with anticipation and denial. He scurried to obey, fully aware that he would soon have Obi-Wan at his mercy, even if the truth of his desires remained hidden beneath layers of self-deception.
000
Anakin savoured the sweet sound of pleasure that escaped Obi-Wan's lips as he devoured the sandwiches he had lovingly prepared. The satisfaction surged through him, filling his chest with a warm glow. With a cocky grin, he propped his booted feet up on the side of the pilot's console. Oh, how Obi-Wan would moan, Anakin thought, appreciating his own twisted fantasies of power and control. His plan had worked like a charm.
But Obi-Wan, forever the voice of reason, couldn't let Anakin revel in his uncivilised behaviour. "Dear one, don't be so uncivilised," he chided, his smile as bright as a supernova. "Remove your boots from the console. If you're still tired, I can take the helm while you catch some rest."
Anakin's facade of dominance crumbled as he stifled a yawn, pretending to be weary. He obediently placed his boots back on the cold durasteel floor. Stretching his long limbs, he rose from the pilot's seat and made his way to the cockpit door, gently pressing his hand against Obi-Wan's shoulder. The younger Jedi couldn't help but shiver in the delicious anticipation of what was to come. Obi-Wan was utterly doomed.
Anakin's mind raced, conjuring up all the commands he'd always wanted to experiment with. Foot massages, for example. He often pampered Rex with his skilled hands, but this time, he craved the touch of Obi-Wan's delicate yet calloused hands on his aching feet. The mere thought sent trembles down his spine, igniting a fire within him.
Lost in his deluded reverie, Anakin's fantasy was abruptly shattered by a loud crunch. Before he knew it, he was thrown onto the unforgiving durasteel floor, the impact jolting through his body. "Anakin, get in here, NOW," Obi-Wan's voice barked through the comm, cutting through his momentary daze.
As Anakin attempted to stand, his footing betrayed him, causing his body to float aimlessly in the weightless environment. It appeared that the gravity generator had suffered some damage. With a flick of his wrist, Anakin employed the use of the Force to open the door, positioning his hands on either side of the frame to propel himself through the gravity-free space towards the cockpit.
"What in the galaxy happened, Master? Weren't we just embarking on a simple, tranquil collection mission to Dantooine?" Anakin questioned as he manoeuvred his way to the pilot's seat, securing himself with the straps.
Obi-Wan's voice held a hint of frustration as he replied, "It seems that the Separatist frigate has other intentions for us, dear one. We'll have to make an unplanned landing on Coral Moon and engage them head-on, considering we're unarmed."
Anakin couldn't resist a mocking tone as he retorted, "Well, you did choose a T-6, Master."
Obi-Wan's patience wearing thin, he pleaded, "Not now, dear one. Put your renowned piloting skills to use and ensure we land safely—preferably in one piece."
"As you wish, Master," Anakin responded instinctively, his words dripping with obedience.
Coral Moon, the perfect setting for Anakin to initiate his conquest over Obi-Wan. Everything was falling into place according to his grand design. Anakin envisioned a future where he ruled the galaxy with Obi-Wan dutifully at his side, a loyal lap dog. Just you wait and see.
The shuttle descended from orbit like a wild rollercoaster ride, its flight path erratic and turbulent. Anakin skillfully manoeuvred the controls, drinking in the chaos he created. On the other hand, Obi-Wan found himself gripping the armrests tightly, his discomfort evident on his face.
"Anakin, must you fly like a drunken bantha? I can't say I'm enjoying this adventure of yours," Obi-Wan complained, his voice laced with irritation.
Anakin, his confidence unshakeable, shot back with a cocky grin, "Come on, Master! Where's your sense of adventure? This is what flying is all about!"
Ever the voice of reason, Obi-Wan responded dryly, "A sense of adventure is of little use when one is dead, Anakin."
The situation grew increasingly dire as the shuttle hurtled toward the planet's surface. Anakin's focus shifted entirely to stabilising their descent, his hands moving with precise determination. Sweat glistened on his brow as he fought against the forces threatening to tear them apart.
In the final heart-stopping moment, Anakin managed to guide the shuttle to a smooth landing, the craft touching down with a grace that defied the chaos of their journey. An idiotic grin spread across Anakin's face, his heart pounding triumphantly. But Obi-Wan, ever curt and composed, remained unimpressed. "Follow me, Anakin."
Anakin, ever the obedient student, complied without question. Deep down, he lied to himself, convincing his deluded mind that his plan to dominate Obi-Wan was progressing flawlessly.
Anakin trailed behind Obi-Wan like a devoted puppy, his mind consumed by the sweet plans he had concocted to bring his Master to his knees. Oh, how he enjoyed the thought. The images played in his mind like a tantalising movie, each scene more deliciously wicked than the last. With glazed eyes and a foolish smile plastered on his face, he followed Obi-Wan's lead, lost in his own delusions.
But Obi-Wan, ever the astute observer, noticed Anakin's distracted state. He turned to his young former Padawan and admonished, "Anakin, focus! You're walking around like a fool. Wipe that silly grin off your face."
Anakin snapped back to reality, his daydreams temporarily shattered. He quickly composed himself and replied, "Yes, Master. My apologies."
Deep inside, Anakin couldn't help but delight in the irony. "That's it, Obi-Wan," he thought, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Issue your orders while you still can. For soon enough, it will be me who's calling the shots."
What a deliciously handsome fool Anakin Skywalker was.