Anakin looks his Master in the eye, lifting his chin slightly, defiantly. “I do know how to dress myself, Master.”
Obi-Wan is fussing over Anakin's robes, straightening his collars and fiddling with the folds that lay against the boy's tanned neck. “It would seem otherwise, given the state of your tunics, my Padawan,” he chastises, running his hands down Anakin's firm arms to smooth out deep wrinkles and unwanted creases. “Really, young one, have I taught you nothing?” he scolds, shaking his head.
Obi-Wan catches sight of the long braid falling against the soft, bared skin of Anakin's neck, the symbol of his Padawan's status, and in turn, of his own. His eyes flick up to Anakin's, then back to the braid, his lips pursed in apparent disapproval. “And this, young one...” He inhales sharply.
Anakin stands just a bit taller, a hint of defiance in his stance. “What about it, Master?” he challenges, the tone falling just short of impudent.
Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow in reproach, his eyes drawing Anakin's into a heated stare. He raises a hand and brushes the back of his fingers over Anakin's cheek, fingertips dancing lightly over the boy's ear and then tracing slowly, deliberately, down the length of the braid to the tip. He lets out a soft tsk.
Obi-Wan cocks his head a little, his mouth opening slightly as his gaze moves to the braid in his hand. His fingers close tightly on the plait, his pull slow and steady as it brings Anakin towards him. His breath is warm on Anakin's face, smelling faintly of chocolate and mint and something Anakin has only ever been able to define simply as Obi-Wan. Anakin sucks in a deep breath, reveling in the scent.
Anakin lowers his eyes, but can't completely suppress his need to challenge or control. “What about it, Master?” he whispers, slowly sneaking a glance up through long lashes.
Obi-Wan's fingers run the length of the braid again, pulling until their bodies press against each other and he can feel the contrast of the softness of Anakin's cheek against the coarseness of his beard. His lips ghost Anakin's ear, tickling the sensitive lobe. “This?” He gives the braid a sharp tug, and Anakin lets out a low, involuntary moan. “This makes you mine, Padawan.”
Anakin's lips curl up into a knowing smirk, his tongue snaking out to wet them slightly. “Does it, Master ?” he asks with a teasing lilt.
Obi-Wan yanks a little harder, his arousal inflamed when a surprised gasp escapes his Padawan's lips. “ Yes , it does,” he whispers fiercely, pushing Anakin backward slowly, until his back rests against the door. He grabs Anakin's hand roughly, pinning it hard against the door, over their heads. “You are my Padawan,” he growls softly, threading his fingers tightly in Anakin's, “and I am your Master.”
Anakin's lower lip pouts slightly, moist and full. “Are you going to show me, Master? Show me how I'm yours?” he dares Obi-Wan, arching his hips slightly against his Master's. He gulps for air when Obi-Wan noses up his chin, wet tongue licking a slow line from the hollow of his throat across the top of his collar to the sensitive place just behind his ear.
Obi-Wan moans at the rebellious words that spill from those red, petulant lips, feeling the firm, young body pressing upward against him in a way that is anything but innocent. “Do you want me to, young one? Have you forgotten so soon? I do believe we just had this lesson yesterday.” His voice is rough and demanding against his Padawan's skin, his cock hard as his hips grind against Anakin's, evidence of his desire for the boy.
“I'm sorry Master, I'm a poor student,” Anakin pants, breathless from the contact and the authority Obi-Wan's voice commands. “You'll just...you just have to show me again,” he stammers, when Obi-Wan suddenly pulls back, jerking the braid once more, bringing Anakin's parted lips in front of his own.
“You will learn, young one. This—” Obi-Wan wraps the plait around his knuckles, “this makes you mine.” Anakin's head smacks back hard against the door when Obi-Wan's lips crash into his, devouring his mouth hungrily. He opens his mouth willingly, wrapping his tongue around Obi-Wan's, the kiss long and wet and demanding and owning.
They break away from the kiss, gasping, the air around them alive and charged. Anakin's cheeks are flushed, his eyes wide and dark with longing, and Obi-Wan feels a warmth spread through him as his heart begins to race. His breath quickens, and when Anakin's free hand touches his cheek, long fingers grazing tenderly through the soft hairs along his jaw, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, biting his lip. Anakin slowly pulls their entwined hands down, bringing them to his chest, placing Obi-Wan's hand just inside the opening of his tunics.
“Show me, Master.”
Pulling the double layers of tunics to one side, Obi-Wan lowers his head, laying down a line of soft kisses along the revealed skin of Anakin's collarbone. His hand slides in further, gliding across the firm, smooth planes of Anakin's chest, his thumb pausing to rub over a hardened nipple, smiling against his Padawan's skin when he feels Anakin shiver. “Like that, young one?” he murmurs, thumb tracing over the peak again, rewarded with a buck of Anakin's hips against him.
“It's...alright...I suppose,” Anakin counters, his hand moving to rest on the nape of Obi-Wan's neck, long fingers stretching up into thick hair, as he holds his Master close to his chest.
Releasing his hold on the plait, Obi-Wan slides his hand down his Padawan's chest, over the layers of dark tunics and leather, fingers working quickly until a soft click is heard, belt clattering to the floor. Wordlessly, he brings both hands up, roughly pushing the tunics apart, exposing Anakin from neck to waist. He pulls back slightly, breathing heavily as he simply looks over Anakin.
Anakin is panting, wanting to touch, not wanting to relinquish control, but the way his Master's eyes rake him over, feral and demanding and possessive, tells him who is in charge tonight. Obi-Wan knows he doesn't mind; tomorrow is another day, and may very well be Anakin's turn.
Obi-Wan looks up, catching the look in Anakin's eyes, and as his hands move slowly over chiseled muscles and soft skin, he kisses Anakin's parted lips, tongue entering his warm mouth, touching and tasting, licking slowly. Anakin sighs into the kiss, hands moving to his Master's waist, fumbling clumsily at his belt. Frustrated, he breaks away, biting his lip in concentration as he works Obi-Wan's belt, his hands yanking ineffectually at the metal and leather.
“Patience, young one,” Obi-Wan chides, sucking lightly on Anakin's lip while his hands cover Anakin's, squeezing softly before pushing them aside. He casts his belt aside, then shrugs out of his tunics.
“Please, Master,” Anakin begs, drawing Obi-Wan closer, skin to skin, shivering again from the tactile experience of his smooth skin meeting the soft hair on Master's chest. “Show me.”
Their lips collide, awkward and needy, with brief, biting kisses that nip and tug at swollen lips. Anakin's hands brush over Obi-Wan's chest, his thumbs dragging down slowly over the defined muscles of his stomach. His fingertips slip under the waistband of Obi-Wan's leggings, petting at the ridges of muscle hiding just out of sight.
Obi-Wan tenses, moaning into Anakin's mouth before taking Anakin's hands into his own, lifting them over his head. Holding them in place with one hand, Obi-Wan's other hand traces a line down Anakin's bared chest, resting on the ties of the boy's leggings. “ Patience , Anakin.”
Obi-Wan loops a single finger into the ties, pulling slowly through them until the strings loosen, the pants sliding down Anakin's hips, just enough to reveal the patch of blond curls. Biting back a moan, Obi-Wan watches as his own hand slips inside Anakin's leggings, brushing past the soft curls to settle around the heat of Anakin's erection, stroking lightly just a few times before pulling out. Anakin protests, arching his body forward towards his Master's hand. Straining against the hold Obi-Wan has on him only serves to accentuate the obvious hardness of his cock and the tautness of the muscles of his stomach and arms.
Overcome by the sight of the boy writhing beneath him, Obi-Wan suddenly releases his hold on Anakin, both hands rushing up to cup Anakin's gorgeously flushed cheeks. His eyes search and study that face, impossibly pretty and masculine at the same time, and he once again feels the rush of lust and love Anakin inspires in him. He pulls Anakin into a searing kiss, his teeth nipping at Anakin's lips until they yield, his tongue tasting every corner of his Padawan's warm mouth.
Hands now freed, Anakin wraps his arms around Obi-Wan's shoulders, threading one hand into the back of his Master's hair while the other slides down, resting on the small of his back. As Obi-Wan assaults his Padawan's mouth, he slides his hand inside and down the back of Anakin's leggings, the already-loosened fabric falling effortlessly to the boy's knees. Fingers trailing over the skin, cupping his ass, he pulls Anakin against him, his arousal slowly rubbing against Anakin's bared length. Obi-Wan gasps, his lips releasing Anakin's, as warmth and wetness seep through the thin material of his leggings. Forehead to forehead, the two Jedi continue to thrust indecently against one another, the increased friction eliciting quiet growls and whispered curses between panted breaths.
When Obi-Wan's hand drops lower, lingering over Anakin's entrance, tracing and teasing, Anakin shudders. “Going to—to—show me, Master?” he stutters, his tongue snaking out to lap playfully across his Master's lips. Bringing his hands to Obi-Wan's stomach, he traces a finger through the soft hair around his navel before crawling them up over the outline of hard muscle. “Maybe teach me a lesson?” he taunts, bringing his fingers to rest on hardened nipples, pinching softly.
“I do believe, my Padawan, that you have a great many lessons yet to be learned,” Obi-Wan hisses, then sinks his teeth into Anakin's shoulder in retribution. As he rubs and pushes two fingertips lightly against Anakin again, Anakin's knees buckle from the sensations, dropping him to the floor, panting and wide eyed as he looks up at his Master.
“Y-yes, Master,” Anakin says, from his spot on the floor. As Obi-Wan watches him, Anakin kneels up, hands moving to quickly open his Master's leggings. He leans forward, nuzzling his nose and cheek affectionately into Obi-Wan's curls, swiping his tongue quickly across the soft skin at the base of his cock before freeing it from the confines of the material. As his thumbs rub small circles into the v's of muscle on Obi-Wan's hips, Anakin uses his tongue to trace the sensitive veins that run up underside of his Master's cock, a pleased “Mmm...” humming from his lips when his tongue swirls around the head, tasting the salty-sweet precome.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering nearly closed from the arousing sight and feel of Anakin's tongue on him. “Stars' end,” he murmurs, grasping the boy's rounded, tanned shoulders to steady himself. He feels a tickle across his knuckles and looks down, spying the Padawan braid moving in time to Anakin's sinful ministrations. Obi-Wan lets the plait run through his fingers, admiring it for what it represents, knowing that it ties Anakin to him and only him, forever. He brings the fingers of his other hand to Anakin's chin, gently stilling him. “I do believe you have proven to be adequately practiced in this skill, young one.”
“Only adequately, Master? I promise to do better next time,” Anakin smiles smugly, brushing his lips against Obi-Wan's cock one last time. Moving out of reach, he leans back on his elbows, bending his knees and spreading his legs as far as the leggings at his knees allow. Making sure his Master is watching, he licks his lips, leaving them parted and wet. His hand travels down to first cup and massage his balls, then wrap around his cock, pumping from base to tip, pausing to rub his palm over the head a few times. “I always liked practicing this skill, Master. But I'm not sure,” he gasps, arching up into his own hand, “...not sure I'm doing it right. Maybe y-you need to show me.” He sucks in his bottom lip, closing his eyes.
Obi-Wan feels a bolt of desire race to his groin, taking in the rapture on his Padawan's face while Anakin wantonly pleasures himself. Obi-Wan hurriedly kicks off his boots and divests himself of his leggings, dropping to his knees just short of Anakin's feet. He runs his hands over Anakin's thighs and down his legs, gripping the heels of the black leather boots firmly. Cocking an eyebrow at Anakin, he yanks once, then again, boots and leggings sliding off effortlessly. Tossing them absently to the side, Obi-Wan crawls forward, a lock of auburn hair falling across an eye when he leans down to brush Anakin's lips with his own.
“Perhaps I do,” he replies, batting Anakin's hand away from his swollen cock and threading their fingers together, “but I have another lesson in mind for today, my Padawan.” Pulling on his hand, Obi-Wan sits back, bringing Anakin up to settle across his lap.
Anakin drapes his arms over his Master's shoulders and slides forward, spreading his legs wide enough to wrap around Obi-Wan. He snuffles into the soft whiskers just below his Master's jaw, releasing muzzled sounds of contentment as he begins to rock his hips just enough to ignite a slow burn between their now sweat-slicked bodies. Moving down to the crook of his neck, Anakin anoints the patches of freckles that adorn Obi-Wan's strong shoulders with gentle, open-mouth kisses, moving under his chin to continue on the other side.
Obi-Wan tilts his head back, giving his Padawan better access to his neck, a shiver running up his spine from Anakin's fevered attentions. He trails one hand across Anakin's back, feeling the ripple of sinewy muscle over the sharp angles of shoulder blades, his thumb ghosting back and forth over the darkened birthmark that he cannot see but memory reminds him is there. He holds his other hand out, palm up, using the Force to call a small tube to his hand from the folds of his cloak on a chair.
“What lesson is that, Master?” Anakin asks saucily, dipping his head to lave his tongue around a nipple, once, twice, and drawing back with a bite, enjoying the unrestrained hiss from his Master. “'There is no passion, only serenity'? I don't think that's it,” he says with a snort. “Or...or was it 'Respect my elders'?” he chuckles, licking over the sensitive nub once again. “Does that make you an elder, Master? Or maybe it's—”
Anakin's tongue falls slack, words failing him, when a slick finger glides down the cleft of his ass, rubbing insistently at his entrance. An involuntary whine emanates from somewhere deep within him as Obi-Wan slides in a finger, slowly and deeply. “ 'A...Jedi...is always...prepared' ,” Anakin grunts out, spreading his legs wider. “ Force... ,” he mewls, his forehead falling to rest against his Master's neck.
“Ah, so you do listen. You'll find that things goes much more smoothly when one is properly prepared, Padawan.” He inserts a second finger, twisting his wrist as he increases his movements, brushing against Anakin's prostate until he feels the shock of pure pleasure jolt through Anakin. “Would you not agree?”
“Y-yes, Master. Being prepared is the key to...ohh, ohh, fuck,” Anakin cries out, unable to continue the verbal sparring any longer. He grabs at Obi-Wan, hands fisting through auburn hair as he rocks back hard against Obi-Wan's fingers, whimpering and shaking. “Please, Master, please,” he begs, the sweat beginning to run down his temples from the effort of holding back the rising tide of passion racing through his overheated body. “I need...I need to...I need you to...,” he stutters incoherently, shaking his head back and forth, causing the tip of his braid to drag and catch on his sweat-dampened neck.
Obi-Wan captures Anakin's full lips in his own, the kiss long and sweet and tender. “I will always give you everything you need, Anakin,” he whispers, slowly withdrawing his fingers. His hands seize Anakin's hips, lifting him up just enough to guide his cock towards Anakin's entrance. “ Everything .”
Anakin blows out a heated breath, then slowly lowers himself, his fingers digging into flesh as he relaxes his muscles to accept all of Obi-Wan inside him. “Oh, Master... yes ...,” he moans loudly, shifting his hips to alter the angle, allowing Obi-Wan's length to penetrate deeper.
“Anakin, so good, Force,” Obi-Wan growls as he slides into Anakin's tight heat, never tiring of the overwhelming satisfaction and intimacy unleashed in this act, joining his body with Anakin's, making them one. He takes hold of the braid, making Anakin look at him. “This, Anakin, all of this, makes you mine,” he says, eyes flashing dark with a possessive passion that Anakin knows is only for him, and most assuredly is reflected in his own lust-filled blue eyes.
“Yes, Master, yes,” he agrees blithely, moving with Obi-Wan's hands. “Show me, show me, show me...” he chants mindlessly, increasing his movement as he rides Obi-Wan's cock, pulling up slowly and slamming down hard, over and over and over.
Lips crash together once again, seeking and savoring, the air filled with the sounds of wet kisses and quiet muted cries, glistening skin slipping against glistening skin. Obi-Wan feels the hardened heat of Anakin's erection sliding against his stomach with each thrust into his partner, and relinquishes his hold on the plait, sneaking a hand between them to fold his fingers around Anakin's length. He begins to stroke his hand up and down the shaft, trying in vain to match Anakin's movement on his own cock, settling into an uneven rhythm. His hand is quickly dampened with precome, allowing his fingers to glide effortlessly up and down the shaft, bringing Anakin to the brink of climax.
“Come for me, young one, come for me, show me, show me you're mine,” he murmurs hot and moist against Anakin's ear. Anakin feels the pull deep in his groin, biting his lip as he grinds one more time back onto Obi-Wan's cock, then crying out loudly as he comes, saturating Obi-Wan's hand and chest.
Obi-Wan stills himself, allowing Anakin to bask in the receding tide of his orgasm, gradually slowing his hand on Anakin's cock as Anakin returns to himself, panting from the exertion. Opening his eyes, Anakin kisses Obi-Wan, mouthing “thank you,” “needed,” “wanted,” against Obi-Wan's parted lips as he begins to move again, his focus solely on his Master's satisfaction now.
Obi-Wan's eyes close, both hands going to Anakin's hips, grunting quietly with each upward thrust. Letting his Master control the pace, Anakin continues his unrelenting campaign of conquest as his hands trail through his come on Obi-Wan's stomach, bringing slick fingertips to rub and tease around hardened nipples, rolling the sensitive flesh between thumb and forefinger.
“Ana—Anakin,” he cries out, arching involuntarily towards the talented hands. He gasps when a cool, wet finger brushes against his parted lips. “Lick,” he hears Anakin command, his finger sliding in further to spread his essence over Obi-Wan's compliant tongue. Obi-Wan opens his eyes, seeing the unbridled determination, and devotion, in his Padawan's eyes.
“Now..now you're mine, too, Master,” Anakin declares, and Obi-Wan knows it is true, that it has always been true. He is as much Anakin's as Anakin is his. Together. One.
Anakin's taste on his tongue, Anakin's heat around his cock, Anakin's possessive words in his ear, all of it swirls together to push Obi-Wan over the edge, spiraling into a blinding climax punctuated by a keening, animalistic cry. “ Yes, ” he murmurs into Anakin's neck, pulling his Padawan close, breathing in his musky, sweat-tinged scent. “Yes, Anakin. One. One .”
Regaining his breath, Obi-Wan lay back, encouraging Anakin into his arms, sprawling his partner's lithe frame across him. Obi-Wan kneads a hand through the close-cropped hair, coming to rest once again on Anakin's Padawan braid. He sighs, tightening his hold on Anakin, bringing the plait to his lips. “I'm afraid this won't be around much longer—you'll be a Knight soon, of that I do not doubt. I shall miss these...lessons, Padawan. Anakin.”
Anakin lifts his head, smiling tiredly as he rests his chin on Obi-Wan's chest, his eyes lidded with a satiated exhaustion. “Oh, I'm sure I'll need some remedial instruction,” he assures him, his hand reaching back to cover Obi-Wan's, squeezing lightly. “You know, just because you won't be able to see it doesn't mean it's not there.” He nuzzles into the warm embrace, eyes falling shut. “Severing it will not make me any less yours, Master. Obi-Wan, ” he murmurs, breath warm and even against Obi-Wan's chest.
Obi-Wan smiles contentedly and runs his hand lazily over Anakin's bare backside, calling his cloak over to cover them. “Yes, you will always be mine, Anakin.” He presses an adoring kiss to Anakin's hair, pulling the fabric up over Anakin's cooled shoulder.
“Just as I am yours.”