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It is pink, in jagged edges, curved lines and wet, with its own throbbing. His Padawan's fingers slipping between the thick lips, forcing them open and leaving all of his insides exposed, carefully circling his clitoris and avoiding delving into his dilated, almost red entrance, begging to be penetrated. Crying his eyes out for Obi-Wan...
Of course, Obi-Wan would not give in to that temptation, no matter how warmly he seemed to be received. It's his Padawan he was talking about, and Anakin hasn't been very nice these days. That's what forces him to step back, leaving him to his privacy and thankful that Anakin had his eyes closed and his gasps were loud enough for his own ears.
Things had been tense since Anakin had kissed him that night a week ago and Obi-Wan hadn't reciprocated, barely containing his burgeoning feelings for his Padawan. He'd been thinking for a week about whether to ask for reassignment or put up with a few more weeks or months of awkwardness, until Anakin got past that stage, because he'd never be able to lay a finger on his Padawan. Or so Obi-Wan thought, before he saw the perfectly pink pussy, shades of peach around the edges and with a deep red in the center.
When Obi-Wan arrives in his own room, he feels the tension in his pants, begging for mercy to be released. But he wouldn't, didn't and won't. No, because he is his Padawan who just turned eighteen standard years old. His Anakin who kissed him after a mission where they almost died. His child that he cared for and protected since the age of nine. He could never harbor such a thought, to sully the purity of their bond in such a way just because he saw something he shouldn't have, perhaps Anakin's most intimate secret, for something he was unaware of that fact in his anatomy.
He circled around his bed, getting dangerously close to the drawer where he kept his lube and then moving away fast because he wouldn't do that, he can't, he shouldn't. But he wants it, but he needs it. And it's a strange feeling clawing at his insides, the wrong feeling that he shouldn't masturbate, he shouldn't have to when there's Anakin and his gorgeous pussy, tempting and seducing his Master, inviting to be outraged, fucked until he's filled with his cum and never feel the cold outside again, why settle for his hand? He must only leave and return to the refresher, take his Padawan in his arms and carry him to bed, he would not resist, or only at first. Then he would even spread his legs for him, hold his wet pussy for him and give him that pleading look.
Oh, his Anakin, his beautiful boy.
Surrendering, Obi-Wan opens the drawer and draws in the lubricant by misusing the Force, which is strangely silent, like a quiet acceptance. Perhaps he is motivating this so as not to defile his son. A sin is not a sin if it is committed in the mind, if it harms no one.
The next day, Obi-Wan awakens with a heaviness throughout his body, perhaps guilt and remorse making his head throb. The automatic light burns his retinas as the smell of food begins to seep into his room, did Anakin get up early to make breakfast?
He stares at the door, debating whether he will have enough willpower to look his Padawan in the eyes after he has masturbated furiously thinking about him, after he has come with his name caught in his throat. His head hurts so much that he seriously thinks about whether his shields will withstand the little nudges Anakin has been making since their kiss, always so unsure about his Master's mood that Obi-Wan wishes he could tell him there is no anger or disgust, at least, not towards Anakin. His Padawan has done nothing wrong, he is the problem.
And after yesterday, there's no doubt about it, Obi-Wan is the worst Master ever.
What is he doing thinking about a teenager like that? What kind of man is he? If he thought nothing could be worse than seeing Anakin as the man he was becoming, that his brotherly affection might be evolving into something more, he was so wrong. Maybe he couldn't stop his heart from thrilling at the sight of Anakin, that he would want to spend all day with him and say his name with extra affection if that is the most discreet way to externalize all that is trapped in his chest and constantly rejected by the Force.
Now what does he have to do with this? His hands feel empty, incomplete because Anakin is not with him, held in his arms as they invent awakening. Now he doesn't just want the little touches, the innocent touches that could satiate Obi-Wan for days, he wants and wants and wants, Anakin's time, words and body. Now that he has seen everything his eyes have been blind to for years, he can think of nothing else.
Breakfast is awkward as it has been every day since the kiss. They eat together in private to avoid this nuisance with the others, though now Obi-Wan fervently wishes he had more company, perhaps he would avoid the urge to carry his Padawan over the table, yank down his pants and eat him instead. It would make it slow and good for his boy, relax him with an orgasm for a fruitful workout and a quiet evening.
They could even make it a common thing between them, Anakin would get what he wants, all the affection and physical closeness and Obi-Wan could satiate his need. Once a day should be enough, at night to sleep peacefully, and if they shared a bed? To make it less cumbersome and allow his child to rest.
The sound of dishes brings him out of his reverie, with Anakin taking his half-eaten plate and carrying it away without question, still pouting for days. Which makes him more tender than he should be.
It's your Padawan.
Obi-Wan immediately averts his gaze when he notices how he looked down to see Anakin's buttocks, covered by the fabric that is too tight. They should order a new set if Obi-Wan didn't want to rip that pair right there. He could push him in and corner him, kiss his neck, untie his tabards and rip open his robe with the Force as his hand delved in and cradled that little pink pussy. Anakin would moan as sweetly as he remembers or let out a gasp of surprise, Obi-Wan would take no time at all to wet it and open it with his fingers. If he takes his time, Anakin would get impatient and he just wants to give him as much pleasure as he can, to lunge all the way in and never feel empty again.
"Master, shall we go train?" Anakin keeps looking at him coldly, which does nothing to lower his erection, only more desire to melt him with his cock, that his legs give way and they end up fucking on the floor, Anakin's pout warping into a moan—
"Yes," he says roughly, waiting for Anakin to walk to the door so he can get up and try to slyly accommodate the hardness between his legs.
He had never realized how thin Anakin was underneath the upper layers, which is saying a lot for the one who is supposed to be his Master.
But Obi-Wan notices in an instant, seeing the clothes falling carelessly in an attempt to provoke him to say something, too bad Obi-Wan's mouth feels completely dry to get a word in edgewise. Case contrary to the thousand sonnets he could say about the cleavage his half-open under tunic makes or the way if his pants were pulled up a little higher, he could mark each lip. An image for which he has nothing to look forward to when Anakin starts doing his warm-ups in front of him, turning his entire back to him in a disrespectful gesture that Obi-Wan doesn't know whether to hate or appreciate.
It fulfills what he fantasized about so much the moment Anakin bends down to touch the tips of his toes with his fingers, the fabric is finally pushed back just enough to show the full extent of his large lips.
Obi-Wan stops abruptly to look at the wall to his left and take a deep breath, he has no long layer of clothing to hide his erection, this time he has to control himself or Anakin will see what he provokes and—
And it wouldn't be so bad, they have the training room to themselves, locked from the inside, no one will interrupt, no one will see how he rips his Padawan's pants to expose him, kissing, licking and sucking all the free skin. Anakin would writhe and beg for him, because he loves him, and Obi-Wan is a good Master, who also loves him. He would give him everything, even the forbidden.
If Anakin had confessed while showing him his pussy, Obi-Wan wouldn't have the willpower to refuse him at that moment and now he felt his temperance running out. He's almost begging the Force to blind him so he would never see his Padawan so filthy again, and somehow he knows that wouldn't stop him in his mind, he would keep imagining it in every possible way, he would keep defiling his apprentice because nothing could ever erase the perfect, idyllic image of that naked body.
Oh Force. what monster was he turning into?
"Master, shall we begin?"
His erection still wouldn't go down and he didn't think it would for the next hour, not while Anakin was still dressed like that and making the sounds he always made when they trained, those gasps and moans that were uncomfortable before this day would be Sith's hell.
"Sorry, Padawan, I seem to be feeling a bit indisposed," he says as he sits down on one of the benches at the edge of the dojo, careful to cover himself from Anakin's angry gaze. "How about we reschedule this session? Or I can ask for the support of another Knight-"
"If you don't want to train me anymore you can just say so. Or you can just get over it, it's not like it's hard for you to pretend my feelings are nothing."
What? "What do you mean?"
"I'm not blind, Master. Don't think I don't see your indifference, how you push me away and pretend not to notice me." As he says it, his voice breaks a little so he closes his mouth and turns away, looking everywhere but at Obi-Wan. "You're going to abandon me? You're going to assign me to another Master?"
"Darling, that's impossible. I would never-" Liar, he knows what he was going to do. But he can't help it, he doesn't want to hurt his Padawan anymore.
"Stop lying!"
The tears are unmistakable on the red cheeks, whether from sadness or fury, they take Obi-Wan totally off guard, his first reaction being to get up and take him in his arms, which he would accomplish, but Anakin pulls away, and he doesn't know if it hurts that or what he's saying.
"Don't try to fix it now, you've done more than enough. I don't need your pity, Knight Kenobi."
At night, Obi-Wan dines alone, without a bite to eat, and as he prepares for bed, he is not even able to lie down, not until he feels Anakin's presence entering their shared space, his protections fractured by the instability of his emotions, no longer the storm he was that afternoon, but still agitated.
He can feel him approaching his room, detained for a few seconds when Obi-Wan thinks to open the door and bring him inside, give him the assurance that there would not be another Master.
It's too late when Anakin walks away, and Obi-Wan should sleep and leave him alone, try to return to the status quo. These feelings are going to go away, he knows it. He knows it and he doesn't want it to, what if Anakin finds someone who reciprocates? What if he's taken away from Obi-Wan? He doesn't think he can take it, he's not that strong. It would be for the best, for who? Anakin's heart is so fragile, no one could care for him better than Obi-Wan, no one.
So Obi-Wan ignores his better judgment and goes out to the common room to watch his Padawan disappear into the refresher, which should be a good sign to go back to his room and meditate all night if necessary, to release all these feelings, these perverted thoughts, all the filth he's trying to contaminate Anakin, his perfect boy, with. He should. He should concentrate and control himself, not be spinning around outside the refresher, conjuring up the image of Anakin masturbating, over and over, over and over. Imagining the moans looping, repeating as if they were being sung right in his ear, lovely and tantalizing between the bitten lips, trying to be suppressed at full volume until he was deafened to hear the silence of the refresher and the sliding in.
Obi-Wan was finished. He knew it the moment he saw Anakin's eyes, wide with surprise and dropping immediately to collarbones deceptively covered by his inner tunic. Just a tunic, wet and clinging at the pecs, nipples marked against the fabric , abdomen flat and—
"Master?"
May the Force forgive him.
"Forgive me, Anakin." His sweet boy can't say anything when he's already kissing him, his hands going straight to his waist, provoking the robe to stick closer to Anakin's clean, pure body.
He can't believe this delicate little thing is completely his and he's tried to reject it, when it's clear the Force sent it to him as a gift, otherwise Anakin wouldn't be opening his lips to let him defile his insides or grabbing him by the neck and pulling him close, chest to chest.
So Obi-Wan lets himself go, there's no point in resisting when Anakin won't let go either.
His hands run down his hips, to the edge of his inner tunic and brushing the skin within reach, grabbing a bit of Anakin's ass, feeling the flesh overflow through his fingers.
"Master!" Anakin pulls him apart suddenly, his cheeks red and expression nervous.
"Allow me, sweetheart."
Then, he kneels, running his hands up his warm thighs, moving up a little to brush the lips very gently with his thumbs.
"I know I hurt you, my Padawan. I don't deserve for you to let me touch you in any way. Not after how I treated you because of my attempt at self-control. But you are so haunting, my heart. I can't take any more." He can't look at Anakin's face, so he lets his forehead rest on his pelvis. "If you allow me one night, one try, I'll do anything to make up for it. Just let me please you."
He doesn't wait long until hands separate him from his Padawan and he finally looks up to appreciate how Anakin slowly unties his tunic, with a patience he hasn't shown in nine years, letting it fall down his arms until it touches the ground.
"Do what you will with me. As long as you don't leave me, Master."
"Never," he whispers.
Anakin leans back against the door of the refresher, carefully spreading his legs. It is dark, but Obi-Wan needs no light to know where to guide his hungry mouth. He crawls closer, running his nose over all the skin he can find, pulling it up until he reaches where he has longed for so much. As soon as he touches, he breathes heavily between the folds of the crotch, thanking the Force for his gift.
A "Please" comes out in Anakin's broken voice, as if he's been there for hours and not a few seconds of appreciation. However, it's enough for Obi-Wan to stick out his tongue and take a quick swipe, making a light pressure to open and take a taste of his dreams. Perfect.
With the first, comes the second and he can no longer stop. He starts with thirsty licks that leave a bright pink, then his fingers open Anakin's pussy to circle his tongue around the already raw entrance, feeling the warm wetness mingle with his saliva and he doesn't hesitate to be a little rougher and more insistent in the lunges he gives with his tongue, letting it circle that small entrance and sink down to taste his Padawan's walls. Anakin's hands tighten in his hair as he lets his mouth wander a little higher until he encloses the clit within his foreskin in a gentle suction, then lays it bare in licks that circle the little nub and make Anakin's hips jerk. Obi-Wan does nothing to stop him, letting Anakin rub against his beard even as he lets out occasional hisses from the burning he surely feels. All he wants is for Anakin to use it for his pleasure in his more important duty.
When Anakin lifts his leg over his shoulder and buries his heel in the middle of his back, Obi-Wan knows he's going to come and only then does he let his index finger approach the abandoned, unprotected entrance, allowing himself to fiddle with his prize before slowly sinking it in, twisting and thrusting carefully until he reaches the first knuckle, feeling his finger burn against the soft, delicate skin inside, being sucked in but not letting go. Even if it wasn't Anakin's first time, Obi-Wan thought nothing of hurting his boy by being lost in his lust.
"Master, Obi-Wan," he lets out between gasps, his head tilted forward, eyes narrowed and lost and blush creeping up to his chest. Obi-Wan has never had such a wonderful sight.
The small convulsions continue and Obi-Wan is finally able to insert a second finger before the walls squeeze repeatedly and Anakin screams in his ecstasy, the barriers of the bond falling away so that Obi-Wan is flooded with his Padawan's pleasure. A seething current coursing through his every muscle and leaving him static as Anakin.
Obi-Wan gives one last lick that Anakin resents as he tightens his thighs around his head, before pulling away and appreciating the view a little more. The pussy is now open like a flower, sore and glistening, still having contractions that Obi-Wan would like to keep feeling on his tongue, but he knows better than to press.
"And you, Master?" asks Anakin, lowering his leg to slip it carefully between Obi-Wan's half-open thighs, touching the tip of his foot to the erection he's been ignoring. Even on the fabric, he can feel the coolness of fingers running down the shaft. He takes the ankle in his hands, pulling it away a little and aborting the lunge he wants to make against the offered surface.
"You don't have to, sweetheart. This is more than enough."
"But I want it." He releases his foot from Obi-Wan's grip, planting both feet on the ground, so wide that Anakin only had to stretch his pussy lips a little to show it fully. "Master, you inside me is everything I was made for. Please."
Anakin is so gentle, so sweet, Obi-Wan wants to taste every last drop, everything he can until he is filled and satiated from here to become one with the Force, so he wastes no time and takes Anakin in his arms, carrying him to the couch, consumed with impatience and new need. Anakin grips him tightly between his arms and legs, not allowing him to move away other than to lower one of his hands to her barely dilated pussy, but which receives two fingers with familiarity.
"Put it in now, Master." The impatient tone is the same one Obi-Wan fantasized about and almost makes him give in. He takes a deep breath to maintain what focus he has left and insert a third finger that Anakin squeals and tries to pull away with.
"Tell me if it hurts, sweetheart," he says immediately, not taking his eyes off his Padawan's ravaged face. He can't resist spreading kisses over every bit of skin until he lets his tongue run over Anakin's battered lips, feeling them open at his grasp, the velvet cavity cradling his caresses. "This is all for you."
As the discomfort in the Force passes into pleasure and impatience, Obi-Wan finally pulls his member out of his pants, taking it in his right, lets the tip slip through the sodden folds, fiddling with the entrance, teasing until the small gasps turn to whimpers and Anakin rushes him as he tightens his legs around him.
"Darling, may I?" he asks one last time.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, Master, Obi-Wan, please, I can't wait any longer." On the verge of tears, Anakin has never looked so perfect, so desperate.
He pushes slowly, stopping each time Anakin frowns, until he is at the bottom, all his hardness wrapped in soft walls, an embrace Obi-Wan can swear he has never experienced. He could stay like this forever. But it's not what he needs, not for now.
He pulls away, rising to his knees to hold Anakin's hips up to his height.
"Oh."
By the time Anakin notices the bulge forming above his pelvis as well, Obi-Wan is already stroking him, more insistent with each sweet squeak of Anakin's, until he can't take the boiling heat any longer and takes his two hands again at the narrow waist, pulling and pulling away with each thrust. It's not fast, it's hard and deep, leaving a permanent mark on Anakin is his final desire.
From above, he can see the bulge sinking and rising, Anakin's entrance desperate to keep it in and taking it again, the pink turned red, Anakin struggling to free himself and take it whole, his hands holding onto Obi-Wan's forearms, only his shoulders and head sliding down the couch, not holding back the sobs. His pussy is wet and soaking him to the hilt. His neck is covered in blushes, his hairless chest heaving with broken moans and pleading. His face streaked with dried tears and a trickle of drool slipping between swollen lips. Anakin is lost and Obi-Wan will do anything to keep him that way.
In the midst of the onslaught, Obi-Wan feels the current and the Force pounding in his veins, the signal that he is doing the right thing. Here he belongs, inside Anakin, pleasing and serving. His life should be nothing more than this, melting into the scorching walls that feel like his true home. Giving all his pleasure, his love and dedication to The Chosen One, who has chosen him to be loved in return, who has given up his body to satisfy his old master. They belong to each other.
"Master. Master! Deep, so much. You're going to pierce me! No, don't stop!" Feeling the nails piercing his flesh, Obi-Wan went faster, sharing the urge to come gushing from the Force, the need to reach deeper to leave all his seed buried. But he knows better, they can't, they mustn't.
"Darling, let go, I don't think I can hold on any more-"
"No! Inside, inside!" Obi-Wan must have seen it coming, he knew Anakin's strong point was his legs, he must have foreseen what a prison they could be. All he could do was come to a full stop, trying not to falter in his grip on his Padawan's sides, praying to the Force that Anakin would tire first. Oh, his Anakin who is a wild creature when he wants something. Levering up Obi-Wan's arms, all the passivity he maintained in holding him inserted into his cock now channeled into uncontrollable rocking and twitching, every part of his shaft being sucked deep, taking him prisoner.
Force can't blame him for impregnating his son if he's begging for it so hard. And Obi-Wan is only a man.
Anakin comes first, clutching like an iron fist on his cock, unbridled in his riding, losing his rhythm in his screams. Ignoring the hypersensitivity and discomfort, Anakin continued to reach for his Master's semen, and with a grunt, Obi-Wan gives what he wants to his infatuated Anakin, who merely smiles as he receives him in his arms, at last falling completely on the couch, two satisfied bodies, catching their breath.
The Force knows he tried to resist, and being held against Anakin's chest, listening to the heartbeat calming, inhaling and exhaling at the same time because they are united in a new way that no Padawan and Master could, he has found true peace.
The clothes are uncomfortable, the heat unbearable, the viscosity of their fluids becoming intolerable. Obi-Wan does not want to move. The fullness is so much, the silence in the bond speaks of peace, that it may not last. The embrace he is sharing with his Padawan may be the last and—
"I want to take another bath before bed, so, tomorrow we do it again?"
He lifts his head, looking into his Anakin's eyes, a calm sea greets him as well as a small squeeze on his still protected cock in his Padawan's wondrous pussy. They will do it tomorrow, perhaps until Obi-Wan dies. May it be so.
"Whatever you wish, sweetheart."