Work Text:
In the small, quiet hours of the morning, most of Coruscant is still asleep.
The first streaks of dawn paint the horizon, their blushing pink barely enough to break through the darkness. The buzz of traffic has dulled to a murmur. Even the Skywalker residence, normally clamorous with squeals, shouts, and children’s laughter, is blissfully peaceful. Only the sounds of the air recyclers and Obi-Wan’s soft breaths break the silence.
Anakin smiles fondly. It isn’t often that he sees his former Master so relaxed. Most days Obi-Wan wakes before he does, determined to give Anakin, the exhausted single father that he is, time to rest.
Not so single anymore, Anakin thinks, running his fingers gently through Obi-Wan’s hair. Gods, it’s such sweet relief, not having to hide his affection, his attachment. He can profess his feelings as loudly and often as he likes, can demonstrate his love with reverent hands and earnest, eager lips whenever he wants.
The light outside creeps further into the sky, becoming more visible through the blinds as the minutes pass. Anakin studies Obi-Wan’s face, his gaze tracing and retracing the lines he already knows by heart. Finally, Obi-Wan stirs.
“Hmm.” Obi-Wan cracks one eye open. His presence in the Force is still soft, thick with a calm, drowsy haze. “Are you watching me sleep?” he asks slowly.
“Maybe,” Anakin replies, skimming gold-tipped fingers along the line of his beard.
Obi-Wan’s mouth curves with a lazy smile. “Why?”
Because Obi-Wan is the most handsome man Anakin has ever met. Because he looks so serene, so unburdened while he sleeps. Because Anakin needs to commit the image to memory—he needs to remind himself that this is real.
“A lot of reasons,” Anakin answers. “But you’re awake now, so.” He shifts closer, pressing a lingering kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips. “Good morning.”
Obi-Wan tilts his head up, brushing their noses together. “Hello there.”
One kiss becomes two, then three, the meeting of their mouths slow and indulgent. When they finally part, Obi-Wan settles back with a pleased sigh.
“How long have you been watching me?” Obi-Wan asks.
“An hour? I wasn’t really keeping track.”
“You complain when Council meetings last more than fifteen minutes, but the way I look when I sleep is enough to hold your attention for an hour?”
“The way you look? Maybe.” Anakin grins. “Maybe I was just waiting to see if that drool”—he glances pointedly at Obi-Wan’s chin—“would eventually hit your pillow.”
“Sith hells.”
Anakin watches in amusement as Obi-Wan wipes at the spot with the palm of his hand. It’s almost too easy to play on his self-consciousness, and perhaps too often, Anakin takes advantage. He wonders if Obi-Wan has any idea how beautiful he is, not just on the outside, but in the Force, too. He’s radiant. Bright like the Tatooine sky at daybreak, warm like the glowing embers of a fire.
Your light is what kept me from the darkness, Anakin thinks.
For a moment, he imagines that he’s brave enough to say the words aloud. One day, he’ll tell Obi-Wan. He’ll confess just how lonely he’d been, how lost he’d felt. He’ll find some way to explain just how much it means that Obi-Wan cares for the twins—that he cares for all of them—at their best and at their worst.
“There,” Obi-Wan huffs, pulling Anakin from his thoughts. “Better?”
Anakin narrows his eyes in mock-appraisal, then shakes his head. “No,” he says with a devious quirk of his lips. “You missed a little, right here.”
He leans in to leave a wet, sloppy kiss at the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth, sticking his tongue out and swiping it up toward his cheek.
Obi-Wan splutters. “Anakin, really, that’s—”
“And here.” He kisses the tip of Obi-Wan’s nose, then drags his open mouth over his eyebrow, his ear, his jaw—
“Alright, alright, stop, mmph!” With the kind of speed and agility usually reserved for sparring, Obi-Wan rolls on top of him and pins him to the mattress. “Two can play at this game.”
Anakin only has seconds to brace himself for Obi-Wan’s counterattack. Insistent lips dot kisses under his chin and down his throat, and the too-long bristles of Obi-Wan’s beard make him jump as they brush along his sensitive skin.
“Ack! Obi-Wan—ah, that tickles!” Obi-Wan doesn’t let up, not when Anakin tries to squirm out of his grip, or even when he all but dissolves into fond, helpless laughter. “Master, you can’t just—okay, okay, I’m sorry!”
The onslaught stops as quickly as it had started. Struggling to catch his breath, Anakin grumbles unintelligibly as Obi-Wan drapes himself on top of him, burying his face in his neck.
“Good,” Obi-Wan says, the muffled word carrying an air of finality. “I hope you’ll think twice about antagonizing me again.”
“Don’t count on it.”
When Obi-Wan doesn’t respond, Anakin shifts a little, nuzzling into his hair and breathing deeply. He smells like comfort, like home. His solid, warm weight, pressed flush against every dip and curve of Anakin’s body, is more than enough to ignite Anakin’s arousal.
Swallowing past the knot of desire in his throat, he slips his hands under Obi-Wan’s sleep tunic, pressing his palms greedily above his hip bones. “You’re heavy,” Anakin says roughly.
“Too bad. I’m not getting off.”
“No?” Anakin turns his head, nosing into the hair at Obi-Wan’s temple. “What if we both get off?”
A glimmer of interest travels across the bond. Obi-Wan grunts in exasperation. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Anakin allows himself a small roll of his hips, moaning when the motion brushes his length along the half-hard outline of Obi-Wan’s cock.
“Yes. U-utterly ridiculous.”
That single stutter is all the invitation Anakin needs. He grinds their hips together shamelessly, starting up a rhythm that he knows Obi-Wan won’t be able to resist.
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan props himself up on his elbows, leaning down to suck Anakin’s lower lip between his teeth. Anakin whines, and Obi-Wan ruts harder against him, mouthing along the line of his jaw. “Was this your plan all along?” he growls into Anakin’s ear. “Were you waiting for me to wake up so we could fuck?”
“No,” Anakin breathes. “No, I promise. I just like looking at you, but—kriff.”
The friction is good, so good, but it isn’t enough. With a little assistance from the Force, Anakin tugs their sleep pants down and tosses them aside. Obi-Wan opens his mouth, no doubt to say something disapproving, but closes it abruptly when their hot, hard lengths slide against each other.
Gods, yes, that’s it. That’s the feeling Anakin has been craving—firm muscle and silky-soft heat, pleasure that lights every nerve as it sparks up his spine. “Stang, Master. It’s been too long.”
Obi-Wan’s answering laugh is low and deep, thick with the kind of unfettered desire that only surfaces in stolen moments. “It’s been three days, you insatiable man.”
“Three days too many.” Anakin presses forward to demand a kiss. “Grab me the lube, will you?”
Obi-Wan’s hips don’t stop moving, not when he slips a hand under his pillow to retrieve the small tube, nor when he pops the cap and passes it to Anakin. A look of confusion flickers across his face as Anakin reaches down to tease himself open, his slick fingers slipping in so easily that it almost seems like a wasted effort.
“I want you to fuck me,” Anakin says, letting the sharp edge of his desire pierce through their bond.
Obi-Wan pauses, glancing over at the chrono. His shaky exhale blows warmly over Anakin’s skin. “The twins will be up any minute.”
“So fuck me fast.” Anakin grins, pulling his fingers out and moving back toward the pillows. “I’m ready, go on.”
“That can’t possibly be enough—”
“I fingered myself in the shower last night. I promise it’s enough.”
Obi-Wan chokes on a groan. “Ridiculous.” His head drops forward as he lines himself up and slides in deep. A palm under Anakin’s knee shifts the angle, and Anakin whimpers, arching his hips.
“Stang, you feel good.”
“Mmh,” is Obi-Wan’s only reply. He stays still for a moment, his muscles trembling and tense. When he looks up, his cheeks are flushed red, and a few stray locks of hair have fallen into his face. He meets Anakin’s eyes with a rueful smile. “You wanted it fast, yes?”
“Yes.” Even without their responsibilities looming, Anakin would’ve wanted it like this; quick and dirty, like they just can’t help themselves. “Yeah. Fast is perfect.”
“Good,” Obi-Wan says, punctuating the word with a single thrust. “Because I don’t think I’ll last long.” He sets an unrelenting pace, fucking in fast, holding nothing back. Force, Anakin loves him like this—uninhibited and unrestrained, his pleasure pulsing through the bond as he chases release with every snap of his hips.
“Master,” Anakin moans, “kriff, that’s so good. Want you all the time, love you so much, kriffing hells.” His mechno-hand curls into Obi-Wan’s hair. “You know how much I love you, right?”
Obi-Wan’s expression softens, his gaze growing hopelessly fond. “Of course I do. Ah. Anakin, I’m—”
“Close? I know, me too.” His free hand fists his cock in time with Obi-Wan’s thrusts, and he tilts his head up, connecting their lips in an open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck, fuck yes, Obi-Wan, I’m going to—” Anakin breaks off with a shuddering gasp. He’s so close, hanging just on the edge, but he needs—he needs—
Obi-Wan’s hand closes around Anakin’s cock, his warm, calloused palm exactly the touch he needs. Anakin whines, desperate, pleading.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warns, his voice a broken growl in his ear. “Fuck, I’m about to come.”
With a guttural groan, Obi-Wan loses himself first, pulsing into Anakin’s body with each erratic thrust. In the bond, the tight coil of pleasure shatters. Anakin comes with a soundless sob, relief wringing his muscles until he’s utterly spent.
“Gods be damned,” Obi-Wan mumbles against his chest, his cock still twitching with the aftershocks.
Through his exhausted, sated haze, Anakin tries to catch his breath. “Still think I’m ridiculous?”
“Yes. Ridiculous and brilliant.”
Anakin chuckles. Mechanical fingers sift through Obi-Wan’s hair, and they breathe each other in, basking in the quiet of the afterglow.
A small, shrill cry crackles through the monitor on the dresser, breaking the silence.
Obi-Wan sighs and lifts his head. “Duty calls.” He extricates himself—his come sliding out of Anakin as he moves, making a dreadful, delightful mess—and finds his sleep pants. He pulls them on with a bemused smirk. “Always Leia.”
“At least she waited until we were done this time.”
“Yes, very polite of her.” Obi-Wan plants a long, hard kiss on Anakin’s lips, one that speaks volumes without saying anything at all. Thank you, it says. I love you. Please, let’s do that again soon.
Anakin’s heart clenches with affection. Gods, his love for this man is infinite.
“Take your time cleaning up,” Obi-Wan adds, brushing his thumb over Anakin’s cheek before pulling away. “I’ll go get them started.”
Anakin smiles, nodding in agreement. “I’ll be right behind you.”