#aaaaaaand much more of anakin following obi-wan's orders later on so look forward to that

[sopherfly]

August Fic Update & Snippet

-peeks out from around the corner- I'm so sorry, friends, real life can be so rude, and there have been other things and people that I needed to prioritize over getting the last chapter of The Shadow Of A Dream done.

HOWEVER. We are making progress. We're at... 14.6k words, so it's going to be a mammoth of a chapter.

There is also ANOTHER OBIKIN FIC IN THE WORKS and it will be incredible and amazing, and hopefully that'll start up in mid-September. 😁

So, to thank you for your incredible patience, have some more 🌶️🔥spicy 🔥🌶️ content while I get back to work.

~

Through the openness in their bond, Anakin saw the instant when Obi-Wan’s grief burned out, igniting like dry brush, transforming inside the flames into sharp, desperate desire. Anakin pulled away with a gasp, surprised at how easily Obi-Wan’s arousal became his own. Breathing heavily into the space between them, Anakin traced his thumb over Obi-Wan’s lower lip, skimming slowly over the skin the same way he had after their first time, and just before their second. It reminded him of all the ways he wanted Obi-Wan; it brought to the front of his mind every desire, every fantasy that he hadn’t dared hope to fulfill, not when their future had been so uncertain.

He allowed himself to hope now, the feeling filling him with longing, and he increased the pressure of his thumb just a little, watching as something bright flared to life in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Stop that,” Obi-Wan warned. Their bond was blazing with arousal now, and Anakin felt need coiling hot and tight through his gut, his blood abandoning his brain entirely as he held Obi-Wan’s gaze.

“Or what?” he breathed, the smallest spark of playfulness cutting through the sudden heat between them. He repeated the motion, more deliberately this time, and Obi-Wan exhaled on a shudder.

“Anakin. You’re still recovering.”

“I know,” Anakin whispered. Some part of him knew Obi-Wan was right: this probably wasn’t wise. And yet, Anakin had nothing more to do but heal. What further harm could they cause, as long as they stayed clear of his injuries? How bad could it truly be if his body felt so ready for it?

“We can be careful,” Anakin said, desperation already apparent in his voice. Kriff, how had he gone so quickly from calm to aching? “Just—Obi-Wan, I—I need it. I need you. Please.”

Obi-Wan groaned. “Force, Anakin. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to say no to you?”

“So don’t say no.” He held his breath as he waited for Obi-Wan’s response, searching Obi-Wan’s face, transfixed by the torrent of emotion glittering behind grey eyes. It only took a moment before Obi-Wan gave in, seeking Anakin’s lips and drawing him into a kiss that made his nerves sing.

“If we’re going to do this,” Obi-Wan said as he pulled away, “I need you not to move unless I tell you. Do you understand?” Anakin nodded, the motion fast and eager, and he barely managed to keep his hips from arching up. “If you move, I’ll stop. And if something hurts and you don’t tell me—”

“I’ll tell you,” Anakin interrupted, low and raspy. “I promise.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan brushed the tip of his nose past the corner of Anakin’s mouth, skimming up until their lips were nearly touching, but not quite. Anakin whimpered, willpower alone holding him still, and then Obi-Wan leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Roll onto your back for me.”

A hand on Anakin’s collarbone encouraged him, and he did as he was told, shifting onto his back, then biting his lip when Obi-Wan knelt between his spread legs, hands coming to rest on Anakin’s thighs. Anakin could already see what he was planning, and kriff, he wanted it, wanted Obi-Wan’s hot mouth around his cock, sucking him down, but—

“Wait,” he said, stopping Obi-Wan before he could go further. “Don’t—I have another idea.” He sent the image across their bond, and Obi-Wan groaned again, one hand slipping down to clench in the sheets.

“Anakin…”

“Please,” Anakin begged. “I want you on top of me.”

Anakin saw the words nearly overpower Obi-Wan, his jaw dropping open as his pupils blew wide, and there was something almost dangerous in the way arousal rolled through their bond like an earthquake, powerful enough to destroy the very ground they stood upon. Obi-Wan swallowed, shaking his head once, his grip tightening on Anakin’s thigh as he growled, “You are a menace.”

It wasn’t no, and anticipation thundered through Anakin, their bond rumbling with aftershocks of desire as Obi-Wan leaned down to kiss him breathless, then used the force to summon a tube of bacta and a towel from the other side of the room. The bacta Anakin understood immediately; the towel took his distracted mind longer to figure out, but as Obi-Wan draped it over his chest, covering his tunic to protect both the garment and the bandages underneath, Anakin finally made the connection. Any kind of mess would necessitate a change of those bandages, along with an explanation as to why. Better to avoid that problem altogether.

Anakin smiled a little, impressed by Obi-Wan’s presence of mind. Desire was making his own thoughts fuzzy around the edges; every part of him ached with need, and he wanted so badly to move, to reach out and caress Obi-Wan’s face, then tangle his fingers into Obi-Wan’s hair. By some miracle he managed to follow Obi-Wan’s instructions, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Obi-Wan removed obi and tabards and tunics, but the compulsion to touch only grew stronger as Obi-Wan slid his trousers down just far enough to free his cock from its confines.

Kriff. Obi-Wan’s cock was beautiful, and Anakin came far too close to sitting up in one fluid motion to take it into his hands. He felt himself tremble with the effort of keeping still, his muscles tensing, his open palms pressing into the sheets where they rested by his sides. “Obi-Wan. Please, I…”

“I know, darling.” Obi-Wan’s fingers slipped under the waistband of Anakin’s trousers, sliding the thin fabric down below Anakin’s knees, and Anakin whimpered as his own cock sprang free to stand at attention, hard and leaking against his stomach. One of Obi-Wan’s hands closed around his shaft, stroking slowly upward, and Anakin couldn’t control the desperate sound pulled from his throat as Obi-Wan’s grip tightened just a fraction.

“Nngh—kriff.” The almost-silent curse didn’t make staying still any easier, and Anakin swallowed hard, whining a little when Obi-Wan released him to gather some of the bacta into his palm. He slicked himself up first, then took hold of Anakin again, his gaze growing sharp when Anakin couldn’t contain a little jerk of his hips.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan stopped, releasing him, and Anakin whined again at the loss of sensation, the loss of contact. He needed Obi-Wan to be touching him everywhere all at once; he needed Obi-Wan draped over him, surrounding him, coaxing little cries from his lips.

“I know,” Anakin replied breathlessly, “I know.” He willed himself to relax, releasing the tension in his shoulders and hips, showing Obi-Wan through their bond just how pliant he planned to be. “I’m sorry. Please—I won’t move again, I promise.”

You keep showing me things like that and I won’t be able to control myself, Obi-Wan warned, breathing deeply before finally shifting forward. He braced one hand on the bed to the right of Anakin’s chest, his body hovering over Anakin’s, then lowered his hips, reaching down to take them both in hand and stroke their cocks together.

Pleasure shot through Anakin, hurtling across their bond like a comet careening through space, so bright and hot and overwhelming that both of them cried out in the same instant. Need and relief made every sensation sharper, and Anakin hissed through clenched teeth, desperate to arch his hips up and knowing that he couldn’t, not if he wanted Obi-Wan to keep going. And he did. Kriff, he needed it—he needed the warm slide of Obi-Wan’s hand and the feeling of Obi-Wan’s cock held tight against his own.

Part of him wanted to reply to what Obi-Wan had said, to tell him that he didn’t have to control himself, that Anakin didn’t want him to, but the thoughts got lost somehow, burned up by the fire that raged in their bond and the warmth of their mingled breaths. When the urge to hold onto Obi-Wan became too great, Anakin met Obi-Wan’s eyes, his question soft and needy as he whispered it into Obi-Wan’s mind. Master, please. Can—can I—?

Their bond lit up with the image of him clinging to Obi-Wan’s shoulders, hanging onto Obi-Wan’s hair, and the punched-out breath that drew from Obi-Wan was beautiful enough that Anakin committed it to memory, determined never to forget that look on Obi-Wan’s face. “Yes, Anakin.”

Anakin mewled his relief, not entirely blind to the way that the short, high-pitched sound made Obi-Wan weak with want. One hand came to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, the other reaching up to fist gently into his hair, and Obi-Wan moaned, his pace increasing just enough that it was both perfect and maddening.

“Hh-aah,” Anakin gasped, incapable of stopping himself from tilting his head back. “Kriff.”

“Alright?” Obi-Wan asked softly.

“Yes,” he managed, more shaky than he’d intended. Force, he would never understand how Obi-Wan always put Anakin’s comfort and pleasure before his own. Anakin hardly deserved it, and yet, when the thought crossed his mind, Obi-Wan banished it utterly, driving it out with a bruising kiss that made Anakin see stars.

That kiss, paired with the steady movement of Obi-Wan’s hand, brought Anakin far closer to the edge than he’d expected, and he clung tighter, durasteel digging into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, flesh fingers tugging at the roots of Obi-Wan’s hair until Obi-Wan pulled back. “Anakin—you deserve so much more than I’ll ever be able to give you.”

Obi-Wan was wrong, so kriffing wrong that Anakin couldn’t begin to explain, but suddenly Obi-Wan quickened his pace, and Anakin keened, the sound high and sharp as his hips lifted off the bed against his will.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and Obi-Wan had promised to stop if Anakin moved without permission, but this time he didn’t, and Anakin flashed a brief grin at Obi-Wan breaking his own rules, releasing his hold on Obi-Wan’s hair just enough to trace his fingers through it. Obi-Wan’s eyes, impossibly dark, caught on Anakin’s lips, and he looked entirely too affected by something so simple as a smile. Force, Obi-Wan’s love was enough to shatter Anakin apart.

“Master,” Anakin said in warning. This was going to be over embarrassingly soon, but he couldn’t help it; his body was wrung and his nerves were shot, and Obi-Wan was on top of him, staring at him, hanging on his every expression. The twist of Obi-Wan’s wrist was just right, and he must’ve known exactly how close that would get Anakin, must’ve been pushing them both to the edge this quickly on purpose.

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin screwed his eyes shut, just for a moment, but it did little to hold off the cresting wave of his pleasure. “Kriff, I’m sorry, I’m—I’m already close, I—”

He had no idea whether he was asking Obi-Wan to speed up or slow down; he didn’t want this to end, not when it felt so good, not when it was exactly the kind of closeness he needed after almost losing Obi-Wan, but kriff. Even if Obi-Wan backed off completely, he wasn’t sure that he would last. He was already teetering, so close to the precipice that the smallest push would send him tumbling over.