Work Header

Ithorian Vanilla

Work Text:

Force, Anakin, so good,” Obi-Wan cried out wantonly, his fingers blindly reaching for Anakin's and linking them together, squeezing tightly to convey his pleasure to his younger partner.

A shameless grunt escaped Anakin's lips and he squeezed back. “Slide down a little more—it'll feel even better. that.”

Obi-Wan moaned even louder.

The tub was large and luxurious by human standards, built to accommodate the majority of amphibious species who frequented this establishment seeking a respite for their moisture-hungry skins with a full immersion bath. For Obi-Wan and Anakin, the tub provided a gratification beyond the simple act of bathing dust-caked skin or rejuvenating battle-wearied bodies; it was just the right size for two Jedi to relax in each other's company for a time, away from the increasing demands of the Council and the needs of the galaxy. Legs completely outstretched and sometimes intertwined, arms dangling over the edges of the basin or trailing lazily through the water, they both lay back at opposite ends of the tub facing each other, their bodies completely submerged in the soothing warmth of Ithorian vanilla-scented bubbles.

Fresh from a long and arduous mission that had started as a negotiation and ended with their attempted murder and the arrest of a dangerous despot, the Council had sent team Kenobi-Skywalker on a simple information drop and retrieval mission to Tatooine. Quinlan Vos, through many of his contacts in various subcultures and underworld associations, had traced an illegal weapons sales ring to a Hutt-owned gambling resort and had inserted Aayla Secura and Siri Tachi to garner information on the possible players.

Obi-Wan and Anakin had arrived on the desert world a few days earlier to establish their covers prior to making contact with the two women, who were working undercover in the casino in Mos Ruddah—Aayla as a dancer and Siri as an “escort” to some of the higher-end clientèle that came on-planet to play the sabacc tables and negotiate smuggling agreements for wealthy businessmen from several of the corporate worlds in the Mid-Core.

At their meeting in the resort's richly velvet-appointed bar and lounge, Obi-Wan went under the guise of a nervous Sector diplomat and Anakin as a young, affluent Alderaanian playboy. Aayla was already on stage, working over the crowd in a “naughty school girl” number, her voluptuous figure barely concealed by the short white blouse and plaid skirt of her costume which was completed by pink ribbons adorning her lekku, knee-high stockings and black patent leather shoes. Playing his part, Anakin had flashed a wad of credits in her direction and eagerly beckoned her over. With the Twi-lek settled across him feigning a lapdance, they leaned into a seemingly intimate embrace, murmuring information to each other while their hands surreptitiously exchanged datachips between their bodies.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had chatted up the bartender, ordering a drink and pretending to be mildly intoxicated. Slurring his words, he excitedly announced to all in earshot that he really didn't know how to play sabacc very well and then “accidentally” spilled his considerable amount of credit chips across the bar. The bartender had winked at Siri, indicating that the naïve diplomat would be a good mark for Siri's “services” that evening. With a seductive smile, Siri had led him over to a table near Anakin and Aayla, slinking her body up against his in the dark booth, speaking just loud enough that the casual passerby would hear her assuring the diplomat that yes, she would be happy to be his good luck charm at the sabacc tables.

Obi-Wan had been unable to hide his considerable smirk upon seeing Master Tachi decked out in heavy eye makeup and a low-cut red catsuit with red stiletto-heeled boots, quietly intimating that he could imagine just what kind of luck she'd had thus far in that outfit. Siri had then whispered several obscenities and life-threatening scenarios to him if he said another word about her appearance, to which he stayed in character and simply moaned in response, earning him a sharp fingernail jabbed into his thigh.

With the mission accomplished, the two men had left separately, having arranged to meet up at a preordained rendezvous point. Instead, as he was often wont to do, Anakin had altered the plan, jumping Obi-Wan in the casino's speeder park with an onslaught of ferocious, needy kisses and grabby, demanding hands. After an exceptionally amorous encounter in the back of some Caamasi dignitary's open-topped cruiser, Anakin had brought them both to the back staircase of a small hotel on the edge of Mos Ruddah, dragging his Master, hand-in-hand, up to a secluded, private room.

“However did you find this place, on this...this...dustbowl?” Obi-Wan asked languidly, stretching out a leg and letting a bubble-covered toe peek out from the water near Anakin's shoulder.

Anakin grinned proudly, letting his head fall back over the edge of the bath, the water in his soddened curls trickling faintly on the tiled floor behind him. “You like it? Let's just say I still know some people here.”

Obi-Wan snorted, watching his toe bob in and out of the water. “I'm not sure I want to know what you had to do to get this,” he replied with a raised eyebrow, shrugging his body down into the water and dunking his head. “I trust no one died, and that perhaps this time you did manage to keep your pants on?” he asked coyly, raking his fingers through his drenched and darkened auburn hair to push it out of his eyes.

Anakin couldn't help but take the easy bait, the edges of his red lips curving up into a well-known smirk. “Well, technically, Master, they were on...” he drawled, giving Obi-Wan a mischievous wink.

Obi-Wan retaliated by sliding his hand through the water and reaching the underside of Anakin's knee, using his water-softened fingers to tickle at the sensitive skin. “Always the cheeky Padawan, aren't you?”

Anakin shouted in surprise, his leg twitching to escape the attack, causing a wave of water and bubbles to cascade right over the end of the tub. “Be-be nice, or...or, you'll wake up as a Kuati school girl!” he threatened through breathless giggles.

Obi-Wan let go of Anakin's leg and sat up quickly, waving a warning finger at Anakin. “You wouldn't dare.”

Anakin tilted his head and licked his lower lip teasingly. “Wouldn't I? Sounds like a challenge. I like challenges.” His fingers found Obi-Wan's calves in the water, rubbing over the firm muscles, knowing just where and how to ease each knot and cramp.

“Oh...oh, that's it, right there,” Obi-Wan groaned, gripping the sides of the tub to brace himself, letting his head loll forward. “It is not a challenge. It's an order. You do still follow them occasionally?” he mumbled from under the tangle of wet hair that fell across his face.

Anakin laughed, reaching forward through the foam to pull Obi-Wan into his arms, back to chest. “Occasionally,” he conceded, nuzzling his cheek against Obi-Wan's temple.

Obi-Wan leaned into the touch, stealing a hand up to hold Anakin's cheek against his face, affectionately fingering a few of the curls that brushed against his fingertips. “I don't know if I should be pleased or insulted that you think I could possibly fit into such a thing, when it barely covered Aayla properly.”

Anakin turned his face into Obi-Wan's hand, pressing a kiss into the palm. “Not much covers Aayla properly, Master, in case you haven't noticed,” he said with a muffled chuckle against damp skin.

“It is rather hard to overlook,” Obi-Wan agreed, giving Anakin's cheek an adoring pat. He drew his knees up, tracing a sudsy finger around the small mark Siri's nail had left on his thigh. “As is the obvious attraction between those two. Force help me if we are that transparent.”

“Siri did that? Remind me to have a conversation with her about touching my Master,” Anakin growled, tenderly rubbing the pad of his thumb over the mark. “I don't think transparent's the word for us. I think that getting busted in the Six's cockpit by that mid-level astronavigation class, Master Vos breaking into a cheer when he found us fucking in the communal sauna, and that trip to Master Luminara for bacta for your, uh, carpet burns, kind of qualifies us as obvious. Explicit, even,” he replied saucily, hugging Obi-Wan closer against him. Anakin ran the fingers of his other hand through Obi-Wan's hair, exposing his neck and leaning in to feast on the spot just below his ear.

Turning his head to encourage Anakin and allow him better access, Obi-Wan let his hands roam under the water, petting and gently kneading Anakin's well-muscled thighs. “Well, yes, I suppose we have moved beyond transparency. There was also that time in the Archives—Jocasta Nu still can't look me in the eye,” he recalled with amusement. “'Obi-Wan Kenobi! What would Qui-Gon say!'” he shrieked in shrill imitation of the prim and punctilious Archives Master.

Anakin half-chuckled at the memory but grew suddenly somber. “And what would Qui-Gon have said?” he inquired curiously, repeatedly cupping water in his hand and watching it pour out over Obi-Wan's shoulder. Impulsively, he leaned forward to taste the moist skin, lapping his tongue slowly over a light patch of freckles and a small crescent-shaped scar.

Obi-Wan tilted his head back to look at Anakin, stretching up to plant a row of soft kisses against the younger man's smooth jaw in reassurance. “I think he would have been pleasantly surprised to find me defiling Master Nu's 'kingdom'—he very much approved of living in the moment. Like someone else I know.” He nipped at Anakin's lower lip, sucking lightly before pulling back and settling on Anakin's warm chest again.

Anakin tasted his Obi-Wan on his lip and smiled, placing a contented kiss into Obi-Wan's hair. “So, what you're saying is that Qui-Gon would have approved of his Padawan cross-dressing, as long as it was spontaneous?” he teased with an impish grin.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and reached under the water, playfully pinching Anakin's taut ass. “Knowing him, he probably would have. Force knows the things you two would have devised together to torture my propriety from me completely.” Obi-Wan sat up in the water and turned, reaching back to brush some of Anakin's now tightly curled ringlets back behind his ears. “I don't think Siri's going to allow Aayla to part with that costume, even once they return to Coruscant, do you? It is a moot point anyway; I do not play dress-up, Anakin,” he declared with a pointed look, punctuating the words with a light flick to Anakin's nose.

Anakin scrunched up his nose and tried to nip at Obi-Wan's finger before pulling his Master flush against him again. As his long fingers lathered bubbles in sensuous patterns across Obi-Wan's chest, Anakin whispered salaciously into his Master's ear. “I would, if you asked me to. Anything you wanted—an Uscru District pleasure worker, Hapan royal consort, even a—” he grazed his teeth against Obi-Wan's ear, lightly brushing his tongue around the lobe, “—Padawan Learner.”

“Mmm...” Obi-Wan whimpered his approval, a look of pure pleasure playing across features as he closed his eyes. He saw his Anakin, tanned skin shimmering under the myriad of lights in some underground club, clad only in pants that hung indecently low and hugged every curve of muscle, a pouty and pretty plaything ready to be purchased for the evening; Anakin dressed in formal Hapan attire, collar and cuffs white and stiff over a dark suitcoat, his curls combed and tamed, ready to be on the arm of the Queen Mother or with whomever she required he be of service to that evening; and of course, Anakin the compliant apprentice, his wild curls pulled back into a tail and mock-braid hanging just below his right ear, tempting Obi-Wan to yank it hard, pulling Anakin into a dominating kiss.

“Now there's a fantasy—Anakin Skywalker, humble, obedient Padawan,” he quipped, bringing his arms up to cover Anakin's as they slowly followed the length of his torso into the water.

“Very funny,” Anakin retorted as he ran his fingers over Obi-Wan's abdomen, splaying his hands wide across his hips, his thumbs petting over the curls at the base of Obi-Wan's cock. He arched up slightly, allowing Obi-Wan to feel his arousal. “I just want to make you happy, like you make me. I love you, Obi-Wan. Always.”

Obi-Wan felt himself instinctively grind back against Anakin's erection, slow enough to draw an agonized moan out of both of them. Sitting up, he got onto his knees and pulled Anakin up as well. He shivered, as much from his wet skin meeting the cooler air as he was from the sight that was Anakin, water droplets dripping from the ends of his saturated curls, patches of bubbles slowly sliding off to reveal all of Anakin's perfection. Obi-Wan stared in blatant admiration, his breath stolen, as it always was, by the depth of Anakin's love for him that shined so intensely in those blue eyes.

Obi-Wan ran a hand over Anakin's chest and down the defined muscles of his stomach, pulling the foamy suds with him as he went, swirling a lazy finger around a nipple until it hardened under his attention. Wrapping his arm around Anakin's waist, he pulled them together, gasping at the feel of their water-slicked bodies pressed together, canting his hips to rub his growing erection against Anakin's.

“You do make me happy, Anakin. Pleasure worker, consort, Padawan, Knight, Chosen One, partner, best friend, lover—I don't care which one, as long as I have you, Anakin Skywalker, by my side, always,” Obi-Wan said solemnly, cupping Anakin's chin in his hand while his thumb caressed Anakin's cheek lovingly. “I love my Anakin. I love you.” Snagging his fingers in the tussle of curls on Anakin's neck, he pulled his love into a long, lingering kiss, their tongues gliding against each other unhurriedly, savoring the taste and feel of each other completely.

They made love slowly and deliberately, indulging in the simple luxury of the time they had and the sinful decadence of being in each other's arms until long after the water turned cool. Duty would call the two Jedi again soon enough, but for this moment, aside from each other, all that existed was the faint scent of Ithorian vanilla skin, towel-dried curls and rakishly tousled auburn locks, and the quiet exchange of the words of love between soft kisses and nuzzled embraces, all hidden beneath the soft sheets in a small room on a distant world.