Work Text:
you got me
eating out your palms
and wrapped around your fingers
venom in my lungs
-
i feel distant and cold,
with your hands around my throat
reaching down to take my soul,
i thought i’d love it but i don’t
-
The afternoon sun shone brilliantly into the temple, a soft orange glow, and warmth seeping in through the windows. Obi-Wan stood at one of those windows, watching the lazy, early evening traffic fly by.
He’d felt Anakin at least two minutes before he rounded the bend, his presence in the Force something like a Siren Song for Obi-Wan at this point. The young Knight leant on the wall at his old Master’s side, following his gaze to the horizon.
“How long will you be gone for?” Anakin asked, folding his arms across his chest. Trying to shield himself, Obi-Wan thought, from what he was about to say.
“Three months.”
“Three months?!”
Obi-Wan sighed heavily, his body weary, and mind tired. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I couldn’t say no, I’m needed on Rodia.”
“I understand,” Anakin said, but his face said otherwise. Obi-Wan quickly glanced around the hallway, feeling out with the Force to check that no one was around. Once he knew they were as alone as they could be in the Temple, he unfolded his hands from his cloak, and placed them on Anakin’s cheeks tenderly.
“I’ll be fine. Master Fisto is going with me, and Cody is planning as we speak.”
Anakin leaned into the touch like a lonely loth cat. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered, fingers grabbing at Obi-Wan's robes.
“And I will miss you,” he said, “but I'll be back before you know it.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Master,” Anakin said with a small smile. Obi-Wan grinned back at him, and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Anakin’s lips that he gladly returned. “I love you,” he promised.
“And I you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan dropped his hands away. “Always.”
-
The room was pitch black, despite the early hour. The heavy black curtains kept even the smallest touches of light out. That didn’t make it any less stifling, however. The heat of Coruscant’s summer prickled his skin, making him sweat under the thin sheet.
Obi-Wan didn’t realise he wasn’t alone in the bed until a hand crudely reached down to play at the hem of his sleep pants – a teasing touch just underneath the fabric. The touch made his body jolt in surprise, the small of his back coming into contact with an obvious arousal.
A deep chuckle came from Vader’s chest, and he moved his fingers to trail up Obi-Wan's bare chest. “Mm. Morning, Obi-Wan.”
Clearing the sleep from his throat, Obi-Wan squirmed in his hold. “If you could refrain from sticking your hands where they don’t belong, I’d be extremely grateful,” he bit out sarcastically. Vader just snorted, like he’d told a joke.
“Oh, my hands belong all over you, baby,” he whispered, pinching Obi-Wan's nipple. The Jedi tried not to react to the touch, but he knew Vader probably felt the sharp sting of pleasure through the Force – through their warped bond he’d forced open after he tore it to shreds and called another man Master. “That’s it, baby.”
“I don’t want this,” Obi-Wan said, despite the warm feeling in his belly, despite the feel of his own hard cock between his legs, despite the achingly familiar touch he’d once craved. Vader had already had him twice the day before – once with Obi-Wan bent near in half with his back against a wall, then again when he shoved his cock down Obi-Wan's throat as he knelt under the dinner table before bending him over it. It seemed he wasn’t done yet.
“See this-” Vader took no notice of Obi-Wan's warning, and slipped his hand back into his pants, gripping his length, which was already hard and dripping with precome “-says otherwise.” He gasped as Vader started to softly stroke his shaft, using Obi-Wan's own wetness as lube to ease his ministrations. “You do want this.” Vader moved his head to press kisses and bites to his neck, shoulder, jaw as he reached back just a little further and slipped a finger inside his former Master’s cunt.
“Anakin-” Obi-Wan cut himself off, reality crushing him like a tidal wave. This wasn’t Anakin. It was Vader. Lord Vader, right hand to the emperor, a Sith. “Stop.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Vader assured, pulling his face towards him so he could slot their mouths together. Wasting no time, he licked into Obi-Wan's mouth obscenely, and buried another finger inside him, pumping both of them in and out at a leisurely pace.
The kiss, the touch all felt wrong. It was so dark he couldn’t see right in front of his face, but he could feel Vader’s golden eyes as he pulled back, and maneuvered them so he could pull Obi-Wan's pants off completely.
He yanked harshly at one of Obi-Wan's legs until his knee touched his chest, and growled, “hold.” Obi-Wan complied, hooking an arm under his knee so Vader didn’t have anything getting in his way. He pulled his own pants off, threw them carelessly, and pressed his toned chest flush against Obi-Wan's back.
“Force, can I fuck you?” It almost sounded like he was begging, but Obi-Wan knew better. “I’ll get you so wet, you’ll come so hard you’ll scream.” He rubbed his hard cock against Obi-Wan's folds, not quite pushing in, but it was enough for the older man's eyes to roll back in pleasure.
He should say no. He should pull himself away, spit in Vader’s face, and tell him to go fuck himself. “Please,” he whispered instead, loathing every part of his body that loved Anakin, needed him, and thought that there was any chance he was still in there, underneath Vader’s darkness.
Vader chuckled, a smug sound, and started pushing his cock inside Obi-Wan. “I knew it,” he said, breathless, pushing until he was buried all the way to the hilt. His breath was scalding hot on Obi-Wan's neck. “I knew you wanted this. You love it.”
He didn’t give Obi-Wan more than five seconds to adjust before he started pounding into him mercilessly, resuming his punishing grip on the base of Obi-Wan's cock. Obi-Wan moaned, feeling more precome leaking onto his thighs. God, he felt so hot with Vader plastered to his back, fucking him so deep, he would feel it for days.
With every thrust, Obi-Wan couldn’t help the ah, ah, oh, yes, from spilling from his mouth. Vader’s own moans were muffled from where he’d hidden his face in Obi-Wan's neck, sucking bite after bite along his jugular. He’d be covered in bruises afterward, something Vader always loved seeing. Marking Obi-Wan seemed to make his happiest, whether it was bruises, or come, or piss, he loved seeing his former Master at his feet, covered in him.
“Fuck, Obi-Wan,” Vader grunted, “oh, you feel so good.” He gave a sharp thrust, as if to get his point across, and combined it with thumbing the slit at the head of his dick. Obi-Wan cried out at the extra jolt of pleasure it sent through him. He was so fucking wet , the sound of skin against skin was almost sinful. “I’m gonna come,” he warned.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan breathed, clenching around Vader. “I-I--”
“Can you still get pregnant?” Vader asked, not pausing in his thrusts for a second. “You’d look fucking beautiful – glowing, round with my kids.”
Obi-Wan didn’t dignify that with an answer, just whined out a please, and shifted just so, that with ever thrust, Vader was hitting that perfect spot inside him, and Obi-Wan saw stars.
It took about three more thrusts before Obi-Wan came, white ropes shooting all over himself, Vader, and the bed.
But Vader didn’t let up, chasing after his own orgasm, grunting like an animal, and pounding into Obi-Wan.
“I love you,” he murmured, tightening his grip on the meat of Obi-Wan's thigh. Obi-Wan said nothing, jerking as Vader drove into his over-sensitive pussy relentlessly. “Please say it. Please, Master. Please.”
He sounded so sad. How could he ever deny his sweet Anakin?
“I love you, Anakin.”
Vader gasped and came, hips stuttering, as he spilled inside Obi-Wan. Force, Obi-Wan really hoped he couldn’t get pregnant anymore.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was their rapid breaths. Obi-Wan wanted to pry himself from where his back felt glued to Vader’s chest through a sheen of sweat, but his limbs felt like jelly, his legs quivering as he came down from the high.
Vader peppered soft kisses over his face (the same thing Anakin used to do) then moved away so he could lay on top of Obi-Wan, blanketing him with his body. With one hand, he gripped Obi-Wan's jaw so he was forced to open his mouth, then pushed the two fingers he’d used to finger Obi-Wan's pussy into his mouth, pushing on his tongue. Still hazy from his orgasm, Obi-Wan took them without fuss, and even made a show of hollowing his cheeks when he sucked on them.
Vader rasped out a breathy “fuck”, and pulled his finger’s out of Obi-Wan's mouth to kiss him instead. The way he kissed Obi-Wan was like a man starving, like Obi-Wan might disappear at any moment.
But Obi-Wan was helpless to it, and let him in, kissing him just as he’d once kissed Anakin. Obi-Wan a drowning man, and Vader was his shore.
Eventually, Vader left his mouth to trail the tip of his tongue teasingly down Obi-Wan's abdomen, stomach, navel, bypassing his softening cock, until he reached his cunt.
“You’re so gorgeous here,” Vader murmured, and licked over his folds and clit in one swipe of his tongue. Obi-Wan was still sensitive from his orgasm, but it didn’t stop him whimpering as Vader continued to lave wetly over Obi-Wan's clit, humming in ecstasy. Obi-Wan always forgot how much Anakin loved doing this to him, and Vader obviously enjoyed it too, if the blissed-out look in his eyes was anything to go by.
“Anakin, I can’t--” he cut himself off with an embarrassingly loud whine when Vader’s spit-slick fingers found their way back inside him, curling and stroking, coaxing his own come out of Obi-Wan, only for him to lap it up greedily as it trickled out of him.
He was fast approaching his second orgasm of the night, despite thinking there was no way he could come again so soon. Vader’s mouth proved him wrong as his tongue joined his fingers and Obi-Wan came with a shout, body trembling like a leaf, twining his hands in Vader’s hair, clenching desperately around him.
After one final swipe of his tongue, Vader got up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, before he settled back down on the bed, this time in front of Obi-Wan so they lay facing each other, both of them breathing heavily. Vader twined their legs together, and Obi-Wan wished he had the energy to get up and shower when he felt how wet they both were, covered in Obi-Wan's mess.
“I leave for Alderaan tomorrow,” Vader said – so softly, that in the dark, he’d almost think it was Anakin he was lying with.
“I know,” Obi-Wan said. Vader huffed in false annoyance, and pulled him closer.
“I’ll be gone for three months. Come with me?” He asked, gently resting a hand on Obi-Wan's cheek. “Please?”
Obi-Wan thought about it. On one hand, he hated it when Vader was here. Constantly wanting to touch Obi-Wan, to kiss, to have sex, just like old times. He hated being the object Vader took his insatiable frustrations out on. He hated having to look at Vader, a dark shadow of the kind and joyful boy he’d once been.
Yet, on the other, he hated it when Vader left , and he was left alone to potter around, with unfriendly droids for company, and the occasional visit from Stormtroopers who used to be men he’d trusted with his life. He often wondered if one of them might’ve been Cody.
Plus, the food was always tasted worse when Vader was gone.
He sighed, making up his mind. “Okay.”
Vader grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to Obi-Wan's lips. It was so gentle, it made Obi-Wan's heart ache.
“Thank you, Master.”