Archive of Our Own

They’re on blockade duty this rotation. They’ve already repelled a Separatist siege. Between the 212^th, 501^st and 327^th it was fairly easy. The 327^th were sent on to the next mission, but the 212^th and 501^st have been left behind to hold the planet for at least a few days, to be sure the Seppies don’t return with more droids.

Things have gone so well in fact, that the locals down on the surface have offered the men large caskets of drink. Usually they’d turn this sort of thing down, but Anakin had shared one look with Obi-Wan and knew they were going to accept this time. The local population of the town they’ve been stationed near seems to have plentiful supplies. Giving up the alcohol hurts them none, and they’re quite insistent on it as thanks for protecting them.

And most relevantly Anakin looks for any moments of levity and ease he can give his men. They have no freedom, and he can’t give it to them. But he can ease things, here and there. Give them secret breaks beyond their time rotated off duty. His old Master’s never voiced it, but Anakin’s seen him try to do something similar on several occasions. He agrees, at least in his mind and heart, if not with outright words.

So they let a few of their men set up a firepit outside of camp and invite a good number of troopers to share in the drink after chewing dry, tough army rations.

They’re sitting around it now. It’s a cool but not cold night, so the crackle of the fire is welcome. The Force swirls calmly around the group, relaxing Anakin. He’s been enjoying just listening to some of the chatter for a few minutes while he sips his drink.

Rex hums thoughtfully beside him. Anakin is familiar enough with the sound to feel a mild bit of apprehension.

“Kiss, kill or kriff, Fives.” Rex says.

Fives, from where he’s sitting two clones down, groans.

“Fine, who?”

“General Ti, Senator Chuchi and Admiral Yularen.” Rex lists boldly.

Anakin smothers a snort into his hand. Fives shoots him a glare, but he’s knocked out of it by one of his brothers bumping their shoulders together.

“C’mon then Fives, what’s it gonna be?” They jab.

Fives throws up a rude hand gesture in Rex’s direction, who just tsks lightly in response.

Fives takes a generous swig of his drink and stares at the fire, tapping his cup with his finger.

“Not the best options you’ve given me Captain. Guess I’ll say kiss the General, kriff the Senator and kill the Admiral.”

Anakin laughs, “Don’t let Yularen hear that kind of disloyalty.”

Fives shrugs helplessly and rolls his eyes.

“Blame Rex, not me.”

Everyone this side of the fire makes a joke or two at Fives’ expense until he snaps and asks a brother his own set of kiss, kill or kriff. Anakin watches, reclined back, leaning on one hand, as it goes around the group from clone to clone. Quickly spreading beyond just the 501^st to the men of the 212^th as well.

He chuckles along at the answers troopers give and the terrible options brothers trap them with. It’s fun.

After another fifteen or so clones have answered the question, ending in Waxer, Anakin feels a slight prickle of forewarning from the Force. He sits up a little straighter and holds his cup with its dregs of his drink a little tighter.

“General Skywalker.” Waxer turns to him with a smirk that’s full of promise.

Anakin meets him with a steady, challenging look.

“Oh c’mon Waxer! Jedi can’t do things like that!” Another clone from the 212^th cries.

Anakin gives the owner of that voice a raised eyebrow.

“We can’t do what?” He asks, feigning obliviousness.

Said clone blushes and turns away. Anakin doesn’t know his name. He’s probably a shiny. It would explain the misconception, at any rate.

“Ah, it’s just… you don’t… kiss people, or the other thing, that’s what I heard, at least.” He stutters as his eyes flick in Anakin’s direction warily.

Anakin shares a humour laden glance with Obi-Wan and then laughs loudly and openly, shoulders shaking with it. The alcohol has loosened him up a bit. He’s allowed it to do so. It’s nice to shed a bit of the mantle of General Skywalker and Jedi Chosen One and Hero With No Fear and just be, amongst men he trusts.

He laughs at the poor man’s comment because truthfully, it’s not as simple as all that. Technically speaking, kissing itself is not attachment. Even having casual sex isn’t attachment. But many Jedi do abstain from both.

Anakin hasn’t abstained. And he knows his Master has done both in the past.

Somewhere along the lines, the lack of long term committed relationships Jedi enter twisted into celibacy in the minds of outsiders. The Jedi do little to dissuade the notion. It makes rebuffing unwanted advances from diplomats and the like easier.

“Well whether or not we do, I can still play the game, can’t I trooper?” Anakin teases as the last of his laughter fades.

“Right you are General!” Waxer rejoins.

Anakin gives him a measuring look and gestures widely with his gloved hand.

“Lay it on me.” He declares.

“Kiss, kill or kriff. General Secura-” Aayla and the 327^th have only just left the system, she’s still fresh on the men’s minds, “-General Vos aaaand…” Waxer draws out the word, apparently thinking hard.

Anakin’s relaxed, smiling in amusement at the men’s antics. He’s already thinking about how to phrase his choice to kill Vos. That is unless Waxer names a Separatist general or something and Anakin has to reevaluate.

Waxer’s eyes light with the kind of mischief that would have lesser men shrinking in fear. Anakin simply waits comfortably.

“General Kenobi!” Waxer finishes, impish smile stretching all the way across his face.

Anakin bites back the Huttese swear before it can escape his mouth. Dastardly, dastardly man.

Everyone around the fire roars with laughter and Anakin shakes his head good naturedly while he tries to decide how to respond.

After a minute the laughter dies down and all eyes turn to Anakin expectantly. His cheeks heat at the attention, and the palpable anticipation behind it. His risks a glance at Obi-Wan. His Master is watching him with mild amusement. He raises a brow in clear interest. It’s cocky in that way that Obi-Wan knows is attractive, even if Anakin wishes he didn’t notice that.

He clears his throat and taps his chin in mock thought.

“Hard choices there Waxer… well, I think I have my answer.” Anakin says.

Nobody interrupts, all watching him with far too much investment, eyes gleaming in the firelight.

“I think I’d have to kiss General Secura,” He pauses as there’s a titter around the fire, “…On the back of the hand, of course. She’s a great friend of mine.” He adds, to tease them.

The men groan, and shake their heads in mock frustration and disappointment.

He tilts his head and then gives Obi-Wan a cheeky look, “And I think, as much as I respect him…” He lets it hang for second for dramatic effect, “That I’d have to kill General Vos, as I believe General Kenobi would all tell you…” He gives Obi-Wan the opening, to see if he rises to the bait.

“That you’d fail quite epically to kill me if you tried.” Obi-Wan finishes dryly.

Anakin gives them a ‘there you go’ gesture with his hands.

Everyone laughs again, and Anakin laughs along with them. Hoping in his heart that will be the end of it. If the Force is feeling merciful tonight.

“But General, that leaves one more.” Rex prods him a minute later.

Anakin narrows his eyes in betrayal at his Captain. Rex gives him an unrepentant look.

A few clones wolf whistle and jeer. Anakin refuses to look in Obi-Wan’s direction, as tempting as it is. He looks back at Waxer, silently begging with his eyes for him not to force this.

Waxer raises his brows and says, “And you last answer?”

Anakin’s face falls as he gives the man a scathing look for his treachery.

He sighs and bows his head, knowing his dignity is utterly lost at this point.

“And finally, I suppose… I would kriff General Kenobi.” He answers while he wonders how he gets himself into these situations.

And I’d do it quite happily, he thinks silently to an audience of just himself. No one else need know that little secret of his.

The laughter is twice as loud this time. There’s more wolf whistles and Fives reaches over to clap him on the back in humour as they all take enjoyment from his humiliation.

Eventually his curiosity gets the better of him, and his eyes find Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan is already looking at him, with that single arrogant eyebrow raised and an indecent smirk. One of the classic expressions he uses on the enemy that never fails to make Anakin jealous. Directed at him. Anakin’s face sort of spasms in surprise. He tries to quell it and give Obi-Wan a light smile that suggests it’s all in good humour. That it doesn’t really mean anything. Obi-Wan’s smirk stretches wider, and Anakin swears he sees a spark of something in Obi-Wan’s eyes, but he’s sitting far enough away that he can’t be sure. Anxiety simmers lowly in his stomach in an uncomfortable way, so he finishes off his drink as an excuse to break eye contact. And in the vain hope that alcohol will drown out his self-consciousness.

Once the din has finally quieted, Anakin asks Rex the question, throwing out a few names. Including Ventress as payback.

Once Rex has given his answers he asks Cody this time.

After Cody is done he turns to his General with the kind of scheming look that has Anakin perking right up from the slump his frame has fallen into.

Obi-Wan holds Cody’s gaze with a slightly resigned air.

“Well, sir…” Cody starts.

“Commander?” Obi-Wan inquiries warily.

“We can’t have General Skywalker’s dignity wholly destroyed while yours is left completely intact, can we?” Cody questions innocently.

Anakin would be insulted, really, but Cody is about to do him a great favour so he magnanimously lets it slide just this once. And anyway, it’s an accurate summary of events, sad as that is.

Obi-Wan sighs, like this is a great hardship.

“I’d say that’s the usual state of things,” There’s a few laughs at that and Anakin flushes indignantly, “But I see your point Cody, ask away.”

“Kiss, kill and kriff… General Grievous, Count Dooku and…” Anakin wants to sing Cody’s name from the heavens for this, whoever he says last, be it Ventress or someone else, he’s thoroughly humiliated Obi-Wan already with just those two.

He pauses long enough that there are several intakes of breath, and Anakin hears Obi-Wan hiss, “Don’t you dare.”

“General Skywalker.” Cody finishes in triumph.

Several of the 212^th crow in delight, Anakin’s stomach does some kind of nauseating flip, and Obi-Wan buries his head in his hands.

They all make good natured fun of him for a minute, eventually quieting down to hear his answers. Anakin tries not to look like he’s staring at Obi-Wan, waiting with his heart in his throat.

The Jedi Master takes his hands away from his face and sits up straight.

“Well, those are quite the options Commander. Seeing as the other choices are too terrible to contemplate, I suppose I’ll have to kill Grievous.” Obi-Wan begins. Many clones nod vigorously in agreement.

Absurdly, some kind of hope is gathering behind Anakin’s ribs. Like this isn’t all a ridiculous joke and the answers actually mean anything. Which they don’t. Or at least they don’t for people who aren’t Anakin, anyway.

Obi-Wan sighs very tiredly, “You’ve left me with little choice but to kiss the Count, though I may have to run myself through with my lightsaber afterwards.”

There are a few laughs at that, but Anakin doesn’t pay them any attention because Obi-Wan has turned to him.

He gives Anakin an overly flirtatious smile and says, “And I will have to pay General Skywalker back for his previous compliment and kriff him in return.”

The sound of laughter and teasing comments is once again loud but Anakin can’t hear it. All he can think is that Obi-Wan managed to make himself sound much more dignified when answering that than Anakin did.

He’s distracted from his bruised pride though, by the way Obi-Wan is watching him unerringly. His stare, his smirk, they’re intense. Overly focused. The rest of the world around them falls away as a spark of something travels between them in the Force. Anakin inhales sharply and blinks at Obi-Wan. He almost reaches out through their Force bond to ask, but thinks better of it.

The moment is broken when a member of the 212^th calls on Obi-Wan to ask someone else, making him turn his head in their direction and answer. Anakin’s eyes don’t leave him though. He doesn’t know what that was, just that it was something.

The game continues in an endless circle around the fire until the drink runs dry and the men shuffle off to bed. Anakin stands when Obi-Wan does, and falls into step with him as they head in the direction of their shared tent.

The silence is thick and heavy, but he doesn’t break it in all the time it takes to reach and enter their tent. He doesn’t break it as they strip off their armour and then all the way down to their undertunics.

Before Obi-Wan can lay down on his cot, Anakin decides to speak.

“You picked the only reasonable answer to your options, you know. Cody went easy on you. He could have humiliated you way worse.” He mutters.

Obi-Wan hums distractedly, shifting to sit up facing Anakin more directly. Now they’re both sitting on the edges of their camp beds, knees only a forearms’ width apart. The tent is lit by a solitary lamp, casting them both in soft yellow light.

“Indeed, such as? What could he have said instead?” There’s a real challenge sparkling in Obi-Wan’s eyes when Anakin meets them.

Anakin swallows dryly and wets his lip. The drink has made him bold apparently, because he’s going to do this.

“Duchess Satine,” Obi-Wan’s expression closes off a bit at the mention of her name but he doesn’t stop Anakin, “Quinlan Vos and… me.”

Obi-Wan raises that single eyebrow again, but after a moment his eyes slide away as he seems to think on it.

“Yes I suppose that would have been a great deal more revealing, wouldn’t it.” His voice is almost clipped, with how much emotion he’s withholding from it.

Anakin knows what he’s implied, with the names he’s chosen. Obi-Wan knows Anakin knows he’s slept with Vos before. In fact it’s one of the reasons Anakin hates the man’s guts, actually. Not the only reason. Vos is insufferable on a good day, but it’s one of them.

Obi-Wan says nothing, and Anakin’s small hope that the older man might still say he’d choose to kriff him dies. He leaps without thought to bargain for it.

“I’ll answer any names you want to ask, if you give your answers to that.” He says, too desperately. To revealingly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes find him again, narrowing. A slight hesitance enters his expression. Even without speaking they both know these are dangerous waters to wade in to.

“If I answered you would tell me… between Senator Amidala, Ferus Olin,” Anakin’s eyebrows lift at that, he wasn’t aware Obi-Wan knew he fooled around with Ferus when he was younger, “-and myself, who you would kiss, kill and kriff?”

“Yes.” Anakin replies simply, without hesitating. Committed to hearing Obi-Wan’s answer enough to brush off any other worries or anxieties now.

Obi-Wan stares at him silently for an extended moment laden with unspoken meaning.

“Kiss Satine, I suppose.” He drawls out slowly as Anakin’s breath catches.

He hadn’t thought Obi-Wan was going to answer.

“Kill Quinlan, easily. As if I haven’t already had days where I’ve contemplated it.” Obi-Wan continues, tone flat.

Anakin’s throat closes as Obi-Wan gives him a sort of knowing, lopsided smile.

“And kriff you, still.”

“And if it was just me and the Duchess, and the only option was-”

Obi-Wan’s expression flattens forbiddingly, “I believe you promised to answer me in return Anakin, not ask another invasive question.”

Anakin pauses, held on the precipice, and then nods. He wants to hear what he’s beginning to think, to hope he will hear from Obi-Wan’s mouth. The admittance that there is something between them, that has been sitting unspoken. But he’s being unfair. He’s asking everything, without giving anything.

“Easy, kiss Padmé, kill Ferus and kriff you.” He tells Obi-Wan.

And it is easy to answer. He’d had plenty of days where he’d wanted to throttle Ferus, imagining it is no burden. And Padmé… well he knows what he should answer about his former lover. What he would, if Obi-Wan weren’t numbered among them.

Anakin isn’t the one who broke things off between him and Padmé. That was her. On his leave six months into the war, she’d broken up with him. He’s hardly over it at this point, but the pain and betrayal have dulled to an ache with time. He still loves her, still thinks of her. Still wishes he could hold her and kiss her and adore her.

But his deepest secret is that he’s dreamed those very same things about Obi-Wan for even longer. His Master was simply never attainable during his Padawanship. Not even after, now. At least… Anakin didn’t think he was. Perhaps he was wrong.

“Still you.” Obi-Wan says softly a moment later, looking at the ground.

“Hm-huh?” Anakin responds very eloquently, entirely thrown.

“I assume you were going to ask between you and Satine who would I choose, whether you were going to ask kiss or kriff… well it doesn’t really matter.” Obi-Wan divulges.

Anakin’s heart is beating wildly enough he can hear it, and he feels almost dizzy all of a sudden.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly rise to his own. Uncertainty mars his face.

Anakin is reminded that this is an ongoing exchange and rushes to respond in kind.

“Between you and Padmé, I’d choose you.” He mirrors.

That uncertainty drains away, as does the very subtle tension in Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Ah.” Obi-Wan coughs delicately.

Slowly, but not so slowly that Obi-Wan has time to retreat or forbid it, Anakin rises from his cot.

Obi-Wan watches him guardedly, but silent. Anakin takes a step towards him, and then another, and then drops to a crouch in front of his Master. The ground is cold, he notices now that he’s closer to it. Obi-Wan only watches him. His Master’s face is blank but a careful probe of the Force reveals his indecision.

“Master.” Anakin begs breathlessly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed as his hands land on Anakin’s chest. Neither pushing away nor pulling him closer.

“It would not be free of attachment, if we did this.” Obi-Wan whispers.

Anakin searches for an argument that Obi-Wan won’t have already come up with a counter to. If he’s been at all aware of Anakin’s feelings before now, and his lack of shock at Anakin’s declaration suggests so, then he’s already considered extensively all the reasons this cannot happen.

“It’s not uncommon,” Anakin begins carefully as Obi-Wan’s eyes open and meet his, “For men to seek comfort together on the battlefield. Even Jedi, for all our serenity and teachings, are not above human needs.”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan barely whispers it, though it is a denial.

“Let me comfort you Master. Comfort me, in this grim war that won’t kriffing end. In the darkness of our tent, no one else needs know what we do to survive this.” Anakin does his best to phrase it persuasively. He has learned from paying attention to Obi-Wan, even if he doesn’t wield his words as weapons as sharply or precisely as the Negotiator.

Obi-Wan’s hand comes up to cup his jaw, thumb gliding softly against his cheek.

“But we are not only Generals on the front, Anakin. We are much more.” He replies, sounding pained.

Anakin closes his eyes, defeated. If Obi-Wan is determined not to allow this breach of the Code, there is nothing he can do to convince him otherwise.

“The Code, then.” He sighs.

Obi-Wan laughs dryly, so dryly it edges on bitter in fact. The sound lands strangely on Anakin’s ear and he reopens his eyes to seek Obi-Wan’s face and then following that his Force signature. It swirls with guilt, heavy and thick and dark. The darkest thing he’s ever witnessed from Obi-Wan in the Force. A festering wound. Anakin’s breath freezes in his lungs like ice.

Obi-Wan’s face is cracked open, raw looking, as he speaks.

“I wish it were just that, but it isn’t.” He shakes his head, all the while his thumb continues to pet Anakin’s face tenderly.

“I was your Master. I raised you. You know that casual encounters between Knights are permissible, but former Padawans and Masters? Especially only a few short years after the apprenticeship has ended? I am far too old, and you too young, Anakin. I… I can’t.” Obi-Wan almost seems to collapse under the weight of the words as he finishes speaking.

That guilt in his signature rears larger, and Anakin gets a real sense of just how badly it’s actually festered. His breath quickens as panic gathers at the edges of his mind.

“Obi-Wan, you have to let this go. What you’ve been carrying with you, however long it’s been-” He rushes to say,

Obi-Wan interrupts him harshly, “It’s been far longer than it should be!”

“Fine, so it started when I was still a Padawan. It doesn’t matter,” Anakin shakes his head vehemently, “You have to let this go. I mean it. I-” He swallows, attempting to find the words as they escape him.

“I want this, I’ve… wanted this,” He forces himself to hold eye contact as he indirectly admits his attachment, “And you’ve never done anything to hurt me. I didn’t… I didn’t know, until tonight. You never let a hint show. You can’t… this is poisoning you, you have to let it go, Master.” Anakin is begging by the end.

Obi-Wan’s expression is crushed.

“Anakin I…” His voice is frail, and he fails to finish his thought.

Anakin lets it hang for a second and then he lifts himself high enough to cup Obi-Wan’s jaw and draw him in for a kiss. At the same time he opens his shields and beckons Obi-Wan to look closer. At his loyalty, his deep affection, his love for the man. His complicated but honest and untainted love.

Obi-Wan trembles in his hold when he reaches out with the Force and touches Anakin’s mind. He pulls back from the kiss and clears his throat.

“Anakin, you- I- we-”

“Let me comfort you, Master. Let me make you forget all of this.” Anakin coaxes, moving his mouth down to Obi-Wan’s neck. Kissing beneath his ear.

“We shouldn’t.” Obi-Wan protests feebly.

“Let me.” Anakin repeats, pushing the spark of his arousal at Obi-Wan with the half imagined idea of them together.

Obi-Wan makes a little breathy, punched out sound, and uses both hands to lift Anakin’s face and pull him back in for another kiss. Anakin’s blood sings in his veins in sweet victory.

Obi-Wan lets Anakin guide him down onto his back on his cot. He lets Anakin kiss him over and over until they’re both breathless and panting. He lets Anakin slot a thigh between his legs against his growing hardness. And best of all, he lets Anakin push his hands beneath his tunic and explore the planes of his chest.

They rut against each other slowly, enjoying the friction. Eventually Obi-Wan pulls his tunic off. Anakin mirrors him, and them moves down to press their chests together. Soaking up the skin to skin contact as his hands continue to roam.

He snakes one hand down Obi-Wan’s pants and palms his hard and leaking cock. Obi-Wan bucks slightly into the touch.

“Anakin.” He sighs breathlessly.

Anakin leans up and back on his knees so he can remove Obi-Wan’s pants, leaving his Master completely bare to his eyes. Anakin shucks off his own pants distractedly, focusing on the glorious sight of all of Obi-Wan on display for him.

He bends his elbows, leaning down over Obi-Wan so he can ghost his mouth across his skin. Kissing over his chest, down to his navel. He kisses and then teases his teeth against Obi-Wan’s hairy thighs. The older man shifts beneath him. A flick of Anakin’s eyes reveal Obi-Wan watching him with a heated but uncertain expression.

That won’t do.

Anakin presses his lips to Obi-Wan’s cock, and then takes the hardening member into his mouth. Listening to the musical sound of Obi-Wan’s long drawn out groan with satisfaction.

Obi-Wan is not small, so Anakin can’t fit the entire thing in his mouth without choking. But he still hollows his cheeks and runs his tongue on the underside of the length filling his mouth.

Obi-Wan tastes of sweat, and musk. He hasn’t had the chance to wash in a minute, that Anakin can tell. It should probably be gross but Anakin can’t help but be turned on by getting a peak behind the façade of General Kenobi and Jedi Master. The most primal proof that underneath it all, Obi-Wan is just a man.

Obi-Wan’s hips buck in an aborted movement that he tries to stop. Anakin helps him by pressing a firm, gloved hand to his hip to keep him still.

He bobs his head, teasing at the tip on each pass, revelling in the sounds of pleasure his Master makes above him.

But as he plunges his mouth up and down, over and over, he can feel Obi-Wan’s dark guilt growing like smoke in the air around them. It bitters the experience, as Anakin worries.

He changes tactics, in hope of reverting the dangerous direction they’re moving in.

He pulls off Obi-Wan’s dick with a pop and moves up the bed.

“A-Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice shakes, his face is tight.

Anakin presses a closed mouth kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek, beard scratchy against his lips.

Then he pulls back enough to spit in his left hand, which he moves down between them. He glances quickly so he can align their cocks and pull them both into his grip.

“It’s okay Obi-Wan, you’re allowed to want this. To enjoy it.” He whispers into his Master’s ear.

He hears Obi-Wan swallow next to him.

He pumps their cocks slowly, feeling out the rhythm and slide as he moves his hips in small increments as well.

He can’t help but look down between them again. The vision of Obi-Wan’s thicker dick sliding against Anakin’s is arresting.

“You’re perfect Master, you’re everything.” He confesses softly.

“Anakin, it’s- I- you-” Obi-Wan stutters out.

“Just feel, don’t think.” Anakin commands.

He speeds up his tugging, twisting at the end.

It finally occurs to him to try an entirely different approach, and he cautiously opens himself in the Force to his Master. Their bond blooming like a flower as he pours himself into it. Obi-Wan’s breath catches beneath him.

Anakin empties everything he feels for this man into their bond. Letting not just his attraction but the full depth of his love reveal itself. It might get him a long lecture later, when Obi-Wan is more composed, but right now all he can hope is that it will help.

The tension in Obi-Wan’s frame drains somewhat.

Anakin presses a kiss to his lips, still pulling at both of their cocks in a smooth, steady rhythm.

You have nothing to feel guilty about Obi-Wan, he pushes the thought down the bond with a single-minded focus.

Obi-Wan makes a small noise of protest, but then he pulls Anakin down into a kiss, devouring his mouth.

Anakin lets him lead it, soaking up everything Obi-Wan dares to offer.

Amazingly, unthinkably, feelings start to come down the bond from Obi-Wan’s side.

His own scorching attraction, and then love. Boundless, endless love.

Anakin trembles above him, his pace stuttering in shock.

Obi-Wan loves him.

Not just as a former student, not just as a friend. He loves him in the same way Anakin loves him.

He can’t believe it. It’s too good to be true.

“Master.” He says helplessly.

I love you, I love you, I love you, he throws down the bond, feeling wild and untethered.

There’s nothing to be sorry for, never be sorry for this, please, he sends in desperation.

“Anakin I-” Obi-Wan wavers.

“I’ll try.” He concedes, after a moment.

Anakin kisses him again. Things have gotten a bit out of hand perhaps, but their mutual pleasure is still there, sparking between them in the Force. Anakin twangs it, trying to amplify it.

He starts a little when he feels a second hand join his own. He blinks at Obi-Wan and then looks down at both of their hands encircling their dicks.

Anakin makes a throaty sound and his hips thrust involuntarily. The slide is too dry now, so he pulls his hand away from Obi-Wan’s and spits into his palm.

Obi-Wan snorts and Anakin watches him roll his eyes and shake his head. His free hand reaches out and makes a familiar gesture. Something flies from his belt and into his palm. Anakin watches all of this with a mild expression. Extremely tempted to comment.

Obi-Wan passes him the object. A packet of bacta. Anakin narrows his eyes at it and then gives Obi-Wan a doubtful look.

“That’s not what this is for?” He says slowly with a questioning lilt at the end as he uses both hands to open it.

“Are you going to make a comment on the waste of precious bacta? Shouldn’t that be my line?” Obi-Wan quips.

His bravado is obviously faked, to Anakin’s ears anyway. It’d probably pass muster with anyone else.

“I more meant that I’m not sure it’s the best lube substitute.” Anakin murmurs.

He drizzles it over both of their dicks, and he and Obi-Wan pump their hands in-sync a few times. The slide is smoother, and the bacta is warm, at least.

“Could be worse.” Anakin grants very softly.

He bends down to kiss Obi-Wan again as they both speed up their pace. Anakin has unintentionally edged them enough.

But all impatience aside, it’s better now. Obi-Wan feels a little more relaxed. The guilt isn’t gone, but it’s lessened.

Obi-Wan guides Anakin’s hand with his own, adjusting the pressure until it’s just on the right side of too hard. He also teases their slits in a way that makes Anakin moan a bit too loudly.

Obi-Wan swallows the sound with his mouth as Anakin contemplates the consequences of any of the clones in nearby tents hearing this. He decides he doesn’t care right now with a shrug and continues to bring them both pleasure.

He’s probably reaching the end of his stamina, so he tries to probe Obi-Wan in the Force to feel how close he is. Obi-Wan draws away from the kiss and speaks.

“I’m close dear, you’ve done so, so well.” Obi-Wan coaxes.

My Knight, filters down the bond affectionately right on the coattails of those words, and Anakin’s eyes flutter.

My Knight.

Too possessive by half. To revealing.

Anakin’s arousal spikes at the subtle way it indicates how Obi-Wan has shaped him into who he is. How he would not be the same person, if not for the man beneath him.

It’s hot, in a way full of scandalous implication.

It pushes Anakin even closer to cumming. Just to be sure Obi-Wan follows him over, Anakin sends his arousal down the bond in a flood. The Force turning scalding between them at the sheer amount of lust Anakin shares.

Obi-Wan’s back bows upwards suddenly and he cums with a shocked shout.

Perhaps Anakin overdid it.

Any regret is quickly washed away by Obi-Wan’s orgasm echoing down the bond and racing up Anakin’s spine, tingling.

Anakin’s muscles tighten, and then he’s spilling in their grasp as well, thrusting jerkily against his Master as he bites off a moan. Obi-Wan kisses him again, swallowing the sound.

They pant as they break away, buzzing with the shared afterglow. It seems slow to leave, with their bond wide open and echoing it back and forth.

Anakin loosens his grip on them, wiping his slick hand off on his stomach. The bacta won’t harm him, and they’ll need to clean off anyway.

Anakin carefully lowers himself beside Obi-Wan, twisting onto his back as his Master shuffles on the small cot to give him enough room.

Their breathing is loud in the tent now that Anakin is paying attention to it.

The odds someone overheard that are high. But Anakin tries not to be bothered. He’ll dismiss any rumours among the men that he has to, later.

Anakin doesn’t close the bond. He lets his contentment and wonder and satisfaction lap at it gently, hoping to calm any regret before it can take root.

He doesn’t sense any regret from Obi-Wan, but he does feel a fresh wave of guilt a few minutes later.

Anakin dismays, trying to drown it out with his affection. It does seem to stutter somewhat, and retreat.

He sighs gently, running his left hand over Obi-Wan’s chest as they bask for a little longer.

A thought snags in his mind, a minute later. Kiss kill or kriff… he’s heard a different variation of the game before in the past.

Screw, kill or marry.

He should probably be glad the men didn’t ask that. Admitting to Obi-Wan he wanted to have sex with him is one thing, admitting he would marry him is another…

But hasn’t he already given away the depth of his feelings? Hasn’t he already bulldozed his own excuse that they could do this without strings attached, as a war time comfort?

Anakin fears censure, he fears Obi-Wan crushing his heart in his hands. But he fears that dark pit he felt much, much more. Obi-Wan can’t keep carrying that.

Maybe if he sees that it isn’t shallow for Anakin. Not at all. Then he will start to let that go.

“Hey Obi-Wan,” He waits for the Jedi Master’s face to tilt in his direction, “Screw, kill or marry, me?”

Obi-Wan scoffs.

“We just had sex Anakin, despite my misgivings, is that not indicative enough of my feelings?” Obi-Wan deflects.

Anakin feels a tiny stab of disappointment, but it was the kind of answer he expected, so it’s easily suppressed.

“I’d marry you.” Anakin breathes.

He says the words so softly, but the tent is quiet, they reach Obi-Wan’s ears. His Master blinks at him, expression cracking open as vulnerability spills out.

It’s a truth Anakin has carried nestled close to his heart for years, and not one he ever believed he’d confess out loud to anyone.

“I know I shouldn’t admit that, or feel that. But if either of us has anything to be guilty over… it’s me, and my attachment. You’ve never taken advantage. Never done anything wrong, Master.” Anakin watches his hand fiddle with the hair on Obi-Wan’s chest as he speaks.

He pauses as a hand closes around his own, stopping his movements.

His eyes slowly lift to find Obi-Wan smiling at him softly. Bittersweet affection comes down the bond from him.

“Thank you for trying to help, but letting this guilt linger is my failing as a Jedi Master. It’s not your burden to bear.” He tells Anakin, voice quiet.

Anakin huffs in slight annoyance.

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, we’re a team. That means it is my job to help sometimes.” He argues.

Obi-Wan clears his throat in a way that sounds distinctly sceptical. Any answering protest of Anakin’s is frozen on his tongue by Obi-Wan lifting his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

Anakin’s brain grinds to a halt as he tries to process the intimate, loving touch. The love entering the bond is gentle, slight, but it’s there. Obi-Wan is sending it.

Anakin’s mouth moves soundlessly, until he lets out a shaky exhale. The lines around Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle as he gives a short laugh. He drops Anakin’s hand, who doesn’t think to try to move it, still struck dumb.

Obi-Wan’s chin tilts as he looks up at the tent roof.

“I’ve never considered marriage. Not ever. Not really. Not like you have, apparently.” He says conversationally.

“We’re already a team, the Team. We’re Jedi mission partners. Fellow Generals on the battlefield, until the very end. A former Master and Padawan who have not severed our Force bond.” Obi-Wan sighs, sounding more thoughtful than anything else.

He gives Anakin a slightly wry look while Anakin’s heart is busy jumping oddly in his chest at the raw sentiment behind the statement.

“I suppose I would consider a bond of souls, of my very essence being tied to another, deeper and more meaningful than the legal binding of a marriage.” Obi-Wan finishes, staring right through Anakin.

Anakin coughs in sharp surprise and blinks rapidly.

Obi-Wan considers them-? He thinks-? He and Anakin are-?

Anakin’s head jerks as he’s overloaded by one little sentence upending his entire world view.

Obi-Wan shifts beside him, getting an elbow under himself and using his other hand to cup Anakin’s jaw and kiss him sweetly. Anakin melts into the touch as his mind buckles under the weight of what Obi-Wan’s words have implied.

After a long, slow kiss they part. Anakin doesn’t go far, only a breath separates their faces as they look into each other’s eyes.

“Does that mean we can have this?” Anakin asks, because he has to. He’s burning with the need to know whether this will be the only time they touch each other. The only time they share their feelings this openly and honestly.

Obi-Wan’s answer is his eyes drifting closed and him pressing his lips against Anakin’s once again.

Anakin doesn’t expect any further confirmation, because that is answer enough on its own, but Obi-Wan sends a thought down the bond.

A single word, Yes.

Anakin can’t help but remember that earlier slip, when Obi-Wan had thought of him as his Knight in the privacy of their minds. The memory of it sends tingles up his spine. He doesn’t know why he likes it so much, but he does.

Some of that must leak down the bond, because he feels a bit of amusement and affection. Obi-Wan corrects his statement indulgently.

Yes, my Knight, he tells Anakin.

Anakin just answers that by kissing him all the harder and sending back the words, I love you, my Master.

With a frankly indecent curl of possession and heat attached to them.