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One.
Anakin looks gorgeous on top of him. Mouth red and wet, panting. Curls messy, chest heaving. Obi-Wan watches him lift himself up a few inches and then drop down, fucking himself on Obi-Wan's cock. He slides one hand up his Padawan's chest to pinch at a nipple, and Anakin gasps and tightens around him.
"Master, please," Anakin whines. Obi-Wan rolls his hips up sharply, meeting him for the next few thrusts. This is, apparently, not hard enough for Anakin, who smirks at him and teases, "What's wrong, old man, can't keep up?"
Obi-Wan's hands tighten on Anakin's hips as he surges up and tips him onto his back. From the look on Anakin's face, this is exactly what he was aiming for, but Obi-Wan's determined not to make it that easy for him.
He sets a rough pace, fucking into Anakin harshly, watching his head tip back as little ah ah ah noises stutter from his mouth with every thrust. "You look so pretty like this, Anakin. This is where you belong, darling, spread out beneath me, writhing on my cock."
Anakin's hands twist in the sheets above him as he cries out, "Obi-Wan, don't stop, please. I, I want—"
Obi-Wan laughs at him sweetly, voice a little condescending. "What do you want, Anakin? Is your Master not fucking you well enough, dear one? All full of my cock and still begging for more?"
Clearly, the mocking is working for Anakin, because his dick jerks and leaks precum onto his stomach. "Master, I want your cum, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours."
Obi-Wan makes a considering noise and taps at Anakin's hip as he pulls out. "Turn over for me then, darling, I want you on your hands and knees for me." He would be surprised by how quickly Anakin moves, pressing his face into the sheets and raising his ass temptingly, but his lover has always been insatiable.
Anakin glances over his shoulder mischievously, and he's clearly trying to get Obi-Wan to move faster. In retaliation, Obi-Wan slaps at his ass and listens to his gasp, spreads his cheeks and takes a moment to just appreciate Anakin's hole, ignoring Anakin's protests. It's wet and puffy and clenching around nothing, and Obi-Wan can't resist sliding two fingers in at once. He curls them carefully, teasingly, and Anakin keens. It sets him to begging again.
"Master, Obi-Wan, fuck me please. It would feel so good, I'd be so tight and wet for you, please I want it."
Obi-Wan bites teasingly at his neck. "Patience, Padawan," he says, but he pulls Anakin's hips back and fucks into him.
From there it's hot and heavy, and he's pretty sure Anakin is making a mess, mouth open, drooling onto his pillow. His cock is certainly wet, dripping and leaking precum as Obi-Wan fists it, at first stroking and then, cruelly, holding it tightly to stave off his lover's orgasm.
Anakin whines and fusses as he fucks himself back onto Obi-Wan's cock, "Master, please, let me cum, please—"
Obi-Wan enjoys seeing him cry out for a bit longer, seeing his cock sink into Anakin again and again, hole clutching at him desperately. When he comes, it's with a groan, leaning over Anakin's back and panting hard. He presses a kiss to Anakin's shoulder as he reaches out with the Force to the nightstand, where a plug sits in one of the drawers. Carefully, he pulls out, and he takes a moment to watch his cum drip out of his Padawan.
Then he pushes the plug mercilessly into Anakin's hole, and Anakin gasps beneath him. "Oh fuck!"
Obi-Wan pats his ass indulgently, cooing at Anakin again in the way he knows drives his old Padawan crazy. "There you go, Anakin, isn't this what you wanted? All stuffed full of my cum, just like you're meant to be."
His Padawan sobs from beneath him. "Master please."
"Please what, dear one?"
"Please let me cum, I was good—"
Obi-Wan smiles and pulls slowly at the plug, then presses it back into him firmly. "Of course, Padawan, you were very sweet for me. Come whenever you like, dear one." Between Obi-Wan's hand on his cock and the plug in his ass, it doesn't take Anakin long, muffling a wail into his pillow. Afterward, Anakin collapses onto the sheets, limbs trembling, and Obi-Wan moves to the side, nudges his chin up for a sweet, lazy kiss.
Two.
Obi-Wan wakes up curled into the fluffy blanket Ahsoka had gotten him on his last nameday. He rolls over onto Anakin's side of the bed, and it's no surprise his old Padawan is already gone. Anakin had always been an early riser, even as a boy, and he remembers the freshly Knighted Obi-Wan, well-accustomed to long nights researching in the Archives, used to despair of ever getting a full night's sleep again. Now that the war is over, especially, he refuses to get up any earlier than necessary. Sometimes even when it is necessary.
He groans as he shoves his face further into Anakin's pillow. Is it necessary? He imagines staying in bed. Anakin would probably come to drag him outside at some point, but he's fairly certain he can convince his lover to lay down with him for an extra hour or so. Ahsoka, on the other hand, will want pancakes. Will demand pancakes. He sighs. The things he does for his grandpadawan….
Obi-Wan's eyes are still half closed as he takes the blanket with him out to the living room. Ahsoka and Anakin wave at him from where they sit on the sofa, and he nods back. If he gets too close to the sofa to greet them, Obi-Wan knows, he's liable to lay down on top of them and never get up again. So he carries on to the kitchen and puts on a kettle. He clutches the blanket with one hand and takes a mug from the cabinet with the other. It's there, leaning against his kitchen counter, that he lets himself actually wake up. His Padawans are talking about something in the other room, and their voices wash over him. It's nice. Warm. Peaceful.
"Is fucking not!"
Well. He never said it was quiet.
"C'mon Ahsoka, at that point they're not even music, just the same five-second clips played on repeat."
"Since when were you a professional musician, Skyguy? They're songs. They're catchy! Master Kenobi, aren't the Tik Tok songs catchy?"
Obi-Wan hums in thought as he pours his cup. It's probably still too early to be asking him questions, honestly. "I'm afraid I have no clue what you're talking about, Ahsoka. Tik Tok songs?"
He hears Anakin huff from the other room. "Why are you such an old man?"
He feels a hot spike of irritation and his good mood abruptly sours. Dimly, he hears Ahsoka respond that chasing after Anakin probably aged him ten years alone. Obi-Wan sets the kettle down in the sink a little harder than necessary, taking satisfaction in the loud thunk noise it makes. Over the ongoing banter, he calls back, "Anyone care to hit the salles?"
The conversation devolves into a confused silence as he takes his mug to the other room.
"But Master," Anakin says, watching him carefully, "it's Benunday."
Well Obi-Wan knows it's Benunday, but maybe if Anakin would stop being such a—
"Master," Ahsoka cuts in, petulant. "It's pancake day."
They both soften, looking at Ahsoka fondly. For all that she was bold and confident in the field, their Padawan is still just a teenager.
"It's pancake day," Obi-Wan agrees. "But after?"
Ahsoka lights up, and Anakin smiles. "Then, Master, will you teach me that move you used last week that put Skyguy on his ass?"
Obi-Wan agrees, even as Anakin shouts in indignation, and Ahsoka laughs.
They go out for brunch and eat pancakes. They hit the salles. (Ahsoka does, in fact, put Anakin on his ass.)
Three.
Obi-Wan lingers in front of the mirror in the fresher. The razor sits on the counter. He narrows his eyes at his reflection, considering.
He'd grown his beard out years ago. He'd been tired of people thinking he was too young to train Anakin (he was too young to train Anakin, probably, but he wouldn't trade it for anything). Especially once his Padawan had shot up, meeting and then surpassing his height easily, the beard had kept him from being questioned at every turn by strangers. At the time, it had been a matter of necessity.
It isn't a matter of necessity now. And…he's always had a bit of a baby face. He could shave. Maybe he wouldn't feel so out of place next to Anakin then. Less washed out.
He picks up the razor.
He likes the beard though. It feels right, feels like him. And Anakin has told him more than once that he likes the feeling on his thighs. His mouth twists in a frown. He puts the razor back.
"Obi-Wan, aren't you ready yet?" Anakin's voice chimes in from outside. "Hurry up, old man!"
"I'm coming, dear one," he calls back. Still, Obi-Wan shoots the razor one last look.
He's pretty sure he'll end up standing in front of it again tomorrow, considering.
Four.
It's movie night. This means cuddling on the living room sofa and invariably arguing about what to watch. Obi-Wan lays sideways on the couch, head in Anakin's lap, blanket from Ahsoka tucked securely around him (he loves Anakin, he really does, but this is his blanket, and Anakin can get his own).
Anakin, proving he truly doesn't deserve an Ahsoka-blanket, suggests they watch a movie about sentient vehicles with a penchant for podracing.
Obi-Wan doesn't even know what to say to that.
They go back and forth for a bit ("the baking competition" "you've never baked a day in your life, Obi-Wan" and "that survival show" "don't you think we've done enough running for our own lives, Anakin?") until Anakin, true to form, insults his taste instead.
"Man, you and your boring old man movies. Can't we watch something cool for once?"
They had watched a show about blacksmiths who custom-made parts for their speeders and ships last week. He hadn't understood any of it, content to watch the interest and delight play across his lover's face, but Obi-Wan doesn't say that. Instead, he turns his face into Anakin's thigh. If he were a touch more childish, he would sink his teeth into it, just to be mean.
He waves a hand at the screen, indicating to Anakin that he should put on whatever he wants, and focuses on the feeling of Anakin's hand in his hair. He's not moping. He's not.
He just…doesn't know why this is suddenly bothering him so much. Maybe now that the war is over, now that they're not likely to die any second, he can see the long-term. He can see Anakin walking away from him.
But that's foolish. He knows Anakin loves him—knows it like a fact of life. The grass in the Temple is green, his saber is blue, and Anakin Skywalker loves Obi-Wan Kenobi.
It's just a little hard to believe sometimes. When he's sitting in the purple grass on Ryloth, or he's reconfiguring his saber, or he's arguing with his old Padawan, facts can seem malleable.
Anakin seems to have caught on to his pensive mood, though, because Obi-Wan feels a little tug at his hair even as Anakin speaks up. "Hey, Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?"
Anakin leans down then and somehow contorts enough to drop a kiss to his temple. "I love you."
And just like that, the facts reassert themselves.
"I love you too, Anakin."
Plus One.
The next night finds Obi-Wan pressed into their sheets, Anakin kissing at his nape sweetly. It's rare that Obi-Wan is in the mood for this. It's not that he dislikes being fucked—he'd certainly done enough of it in his Padawan days—but they have enough other ways to enjoy themselves, and these days, after the war, Obi-Wan has trouble making himself so vulnerable.
Anakin slides down his back, getting Obi-Wan to lift his hips with a soft, murmured comment. It's just, in the next moment, instead of the slick finger he was expecting, there's a tongue at his rim. He cries out as Anakin licks at him gently. It's sloppy and wet, and he squirms nonstop until Anakin wraps one durasteel arm around his hips, holding him still.
"Anakin," he whines. Anakin doubles down, fucking his tongue relentlessly in and out of his hole. "Anakin, I—"
There's a hum as his lover pauses, pulls away. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"
He repeats Anakin's name, nonsensically, letting out a keen, and buries his face in his arms. They'd barely started, and he's already halfway to overwhelmed.
"C'mon, old man," Anakin bites gently at one cheek, "Let me hear you."
The words freeze Obi-Wan's breath in his lungs. His shoulders tense, and he's glad Anakin can't see whatever his face is doing. He's not sure if he feels hot or cold or hurt or what, but he fucking feels.
"Hey, hey," Anakin's voice is soothing, but filters to him only distantly. "Obi-Wan, did I hurt you? I'm sorry." Even as he speaks, he's coaxing Obi-Wan into turning around.
It's clear he wants to make eye contact, but there's nothing Obi-Wan wants less right now, so he pushes further into Anakin's arms, hiding his face against his chest, upset and subsequently embarrassed about being upset over something like this. He makes a vague noise, muffled by Anakin's skin.
His partner rolls with it, running a hand comfortingly through his hair and apologizing. "I'm sorry Obi, I didn't realize how much that upset you, love. I won't say it again."
"But if it's true—" Obi-Wan chokes out.
Anakin drops a kiss to the top of his head. "First of all, it's not true," he says firmly. "Second of all," he coaxes Obi-Wan a little further out of hiding and presses sweet kisses across his face between his words, "Even if it was—" "it wasn't fair of me—" "to say it at a time like this—" "I'm sorry, Obi—
"I'm supposed to be taking care of you, baby."
He'd started to calm, to gentle at Anakin's assurances, but now his face heats up. Obi-Wan is absolutely certain he's blushing, and his cock throbs where it's pressed against Anakin's thigh.
Anakin clearly notices, because he pauses and pulls back a little further, looking surprised. Obi-Wan's not sure which of them is more poleaxed by this development, honestly. "Oh," his lover, his Padawan, his partner says. "Can I touch you, baby?"
If this was anyone else, he'd say no. But this is Anakin, and Anakin is his everything. So Obi-Wan nods, lets his partner lay him back gently. When they start back up, it's slow and sweet. It's Anakin's lips on his, tongue exploring his mouth for the hundredth, the thousandth time. It's skin-warmed metal running across his chest, his arm, twining fingers with his. It's Anakin's left hand wrapping around his cock, making him feel good the way only Anakin knows how.
Obi-Wan is gasping, arching under him, calling out his lover's name, when Anakin finally, finally takes slick fingers to his hole, opens him up, takes him apart piece by piece. "There we go, Obi-Wan. You're so sweet for me, love."
He's pretty sure he's crying at this point, pushing back on Anakin's fingers, begging for his cock. He just wants Anakin to fill him up, wants to be tangled together and to never part.
"Just be patient for me, sweetheart." Anakin kisses him once, lightly, and presses into him slowly, inch by inch. It has Obi-Wan grinding down, even as the stretch hurts a little. Anakin talks him through it, apparently unable to stop now that he's started, "You take me so well, baby, feel so good around me."
And Obi-Wan feels raw, split open on his cock, but he knows Anakin will take care of him.
Anakin will always take care of him.