Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oh, come on!" Anakin grunts as they enter the room that looks like a sacred vault, breaking the respectful silence hanging in the air amongst the green and blue hues coming from datapad screens and interminable rows of neatly stocked informations about the whole galaxy. "Not the archives again." 

"Watch your tone." Obi-Wan hushes him with a sharp look, before turning away completely and walking to the reception desk. 

A few steps behind, Anakin watches as the entire demeanor of his Master changes as he leans subtly over the desk, resolute and reverent at the same time and he doesn't have to see his face to picture the polite smile placated on his lips as he speaks to Madam Nu, probably advocating for an exception in his Padawan's temporal ban from the place of knowledge. He didn't have to. Anakin was perfectly fine with the idea of never putting a foot again in what seemed to be the most boring place in the universe. But Obi-Wan had said they needed to do research about some off-center primitive community he had never heard of before his Master mentioned it. And when Obi-Wan said something, well, as long as he wore his Padawan braid he still had to obey. Most of the time.  

Especially after the little stunt he pulled in Coruscant's lower levels two days ago, which got him grounded at the Temple for an indefinite amount of time. Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe Obi-Wan was taking him to the archives as a warning of what awaited him if he did not behave in the future. This was honestly more frightening that all the threats about confiscating his datapad during the next inter-galactic podrace. 

Behind the desk, he sees Madam Nu raising her head and glancing in his direction above Obi-Wan's shoulder, mouth pinched, eyes of steel. He gives her an awkward smile, before bowing slightly for good measure. When he straightens again, her gaze is already back on Obi-Wan, nostrils flaring in annoyance even though the rest of her face is as blank and composed as usual. Finally, she gives his Master a curt nod and turns her back on them to adress another Knight's inquiry. 

Anakin doesn't even wait for Obi-Wan to call him, keeping his mouth shut as he walks past the desk and sticks to the other man's side, their shoulders bumping as he presses close. 

"What did you tell her ?" He whispers, lowering his head just enough to let his mouth brush the tip of Obi-Wan's left ear. 

"Anakin !" Obi-Wan hisses low at the fleeting but intimate contact and steps aside with a glare in this direction. 

But Anakin notices the barely concealed shiver that runs through his spine, as well as the light blush dusting the top of his cheeks. A little spark of triumph ignites into his chest. 

"Madam Nu granted you a special access in spite of your current restriction to be in the archives, so I'll ask you to earn her respect and act with maturity." Obi-Wan advises him with a severe look that only makes Anakin roll his eyes harder. 

"Yes, Master." 

As sure as the suns rise every morning and set every night, Anakin gets bored five minutes into the research session. Obi-Wan chose a secluded corner of the archives and literally covered the entire table with dozens of ancient books smelling like old cellar that made Anakin wrinkle his nose and sneeze as soon as Obi-Wan had opened one. 

"There's no way I'm touching those fossils." He had declared, and so his Master had given him a datapad and a couple of labelled sticks instead - not without a loud, resigned sigh and a glower that might have worked on him, should he had been a couple years younger and didn't know the taste of his cum already. 

Yes, there's that. As much as Obi-Wan insisted on playing the perfect Jedi Master every day of his life, Anakin knew what he was like in the cover of the night. When he was no Master, no Jedi but a man with flaws and shortcomings, whose shame burned bright and desire even brighter. And the fact that he was the only one who had access to this side of Obi-Wan's conflicted ethics made the beast inside his chest roar in vicious contentment. 

Propping his boots on the side of his Master's chair, Anakin leans back against his own, datapad resting on his laps as he glances at Obi-Wan. The man is focused on a small book that looks a thousands of years old and ready to fall into crumbs at the slightest misstep, and Obi-Wan is holding it with a care that draws Anakin's eyes on his hands. Strong, capable hands with bony knuckles and callous palms that feel so good on his skin. He likes taking them in his mouth after a long training session, or after they've been deep inside of him. He likes licking the salt of Obi-Wan's sweat or the bitterness of his seed off them, likes to feel them pressing on his tongue and keep his jaw open. He likes the roughness of his fingertips on the inside of his thighs and the familiar beating of his pulse when he holds his wrist at night. And he…

Ah, kriff. 

He's getting hard, thinking about Obi-Wan's hands, in the middle of the archives. He would have felt ashamed of the reaction of his body to these forbidden fantasies, a couple of years ago, when he was still a confused teenager driven by hormones and obsessive thoughts about pressing his mouth all over his Master's frustratingly overdressed body. Now it mostly amuses him, because he knows that if he plays his cards right, he could definitely have what he wants. There's no way Obi-Wan would agree to fuck in here, a sacred, public place in which Anakin knows he's on a very thin line from being banned definitely. It makes the challenge even more exciting. 

Eyes still fixed on Obi-Wan, he reaches between his legs to adjust the fabric of his leggings stretching on his semi-hard bulge, deliberately palming himself in the process and letting a brief spike of arousal slip through the walls built around his mind. 

From an outsider's point of view, Obi-Wan quiet and calm composure might appear to stay the same, unphased, but Anakin notices. He notices the small, sharp breath he takes through his nose, the slight twitching in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten on the cover of the book. Good, he has his attention. 

Tapping on the screen of his datapad, he slides down haphazardly until he finds a random piece of information about the community his Master has mentioned. He doesn't even check if it is relevant to their research and stands up suddenly, which pushes Obi-Wan to tear his eyes from his page and give him a suspicious look. 

"I think I found something." Anakin says, offering a smile that he hopes disarmingly innocent, before stepping behind Obi-Wan's chair and leaning over his shoulder, arms on either sides of him as he holds the datapad in front of his face. "Look." 

His curls are dancing along Obi-Wan's beard as he presses closer, forearms casually resting on his Master's shoulders and he's suddenly overwhelmed by the musky scent of aftershave and the fresh smell of clean robes. It takes all he has in him not to press his nose on the underside of his jaw and breathe him in like a starving man. Not yet. 

"Anakin." Obi-Wan stiffens on his chair, keeping his gaze straight and his movements to the minimum. It makes Anakin smile internally "Please, behave yourself. This work is important."

"I know, Master." Anakin hums, gently tapping on the screen. "I found something for you."  

Since Obi-Wan doesn't explicitly asks him to step back, Anakin decides he can stay where he is, bathing in the scent of aftershave and clean laundry. If he moved an inch to the side, he could press his cheek to Obi-Wan's but he doesn't want to spook him. He has to be clever. He has to make Obi-Wan want this as much as he does. 

There's a short silence before Obi-Wan grabs the datapad to move it away and adjust the screen to his sight, which makes Anakin smile at the familiarity of the gesture. Obi-Wan tends to do that more and more often when Anakin shows him something on a screen, but he'll insist that he doesn't need his eyesight checked-up, which is a shame because he believes his Master would look even hotter with glasses on. 

"I- Thank you, Anakin." Obi-Wan finally says. "This was… Interesting. Though, not exactly what we're aiming for." 

Anakin knows this tone by heart, the one that conveys that he failed at the objective while still being supportive for trying. That exact same one that infuriated him when he was younger and full of insecurities, when he thought Obi-Wan was holding him back when he was only pushing him further. It took years for him to desantangle those complicated feelings and understand that everything Obi-Wan had ever done was out of love for him. Sometimes awkwardly, sometimes painfully, but always out of love. 

"What are we aiming for then, Master ?" He murmurs, wrapping his arms loosely around Obi-Wan's neck, forgetting completely about the datapad. 

He hears Obi-Wan swallow, knuckles whitening around the edges of the device. He wants me too, he realizes as a pleasant warmth spread inside of his belly. But knowing his Master, he won't go down without a fight. 

"Cultural data, politics." Obi-Wan answers, putting the datapad on the table in front of him along with the book. "You could find me information on their economical status and the exchanges they make with other systems."

"I could do that." Anakin agrees, and he feels Obi-Wan relax a bit against him. "Or, I could sit on your cock while you search information about that planet's boring economics." 

"Anakin !" 

This time Obi-Wan forgets to whisper, turning around on his chair to give Anakin an outraged look, a delicious blush spreading from his nose to the edge of his tunics that Anakin knows annoys him more than his crude words. 

"Shh, Master." Anakin hushes him with a barely hidden smile that makes the Jedi glower stronger. "You don't want to draw attention to us, do you ?" 

"This not the time, nor the place." Obi-Wan hisses behind his teeth while grabbing Anakin's arms to unwrap them from around his neck. "Go sit down." 

Anakin lets him, pushing away from the chair to circle it and sit directly on the edge of the table, facing his Master whose brows furrow in flustered annoyance. 

"Anakin, I'm serious-"

"I'll be good." Anakin interrupts him, slowly lifting a leg to slide his foot in the small space left between Obi-Wan's thighs, making him choke a gasp and close his legs as he reaches for his ankle. 

"Stop."

Anakin keeps still, tilting his head on the side as Obi-Wan looks at him with a face he knows all to well. Irritation mixed with uncontrolled arousal. Oh, he knows his Master is angry at himself for feeling this way, in this place. He's always furious before giving up and it turns Anakin's blood to liquid fire every time. How he can make this man's iron will bend with his audacity, but also and especially by giving him exactly what he's ever wanted. Connection. Freedom. A chance to let loose, for once. To forgive the shame and only think about pleasure. And something else, that they both won't mention.

"Nobody comes here." He says, gently pushing his foot against Obi-Wan's hold and meeting almost no resistance. "We won't risk anything if we keep quiet." 

"I'm not having sex in the archives." Obi-Wan replies blankly, but still lets Anakin's boot press against his crotch.

"You don't have to do anything." Anakin hums, eyelids fluttering as Obi-Wan's fingers dig inside the delicate joints of his ankle. "Just you inside of me. I keep you warm, you keep me focused. Deal ?" 

Obi-Wan frowns deepens and Anakin can witness the war happening right now inside of his mind. He doesn't really have any compelling arguments to tip the scale in his favour but sheer audacity and the hope that his Master will shed himself of his sacred values for him. It's a lot to ask, he knows, but Obi-Wan tends to surprise him more often than not these days. 

Anakin's waiting in a tense silence when Obi-Wan finally groans and pushes his foot away, making him stumble forward. 

"Come here." 

The order is clear and sharp, going straight to Anakin's cock. He almost causes them both to fall of the chair in his haste to sit on Obi-Wan's laps, which earns him a dirty look. 

"Sorry." He murmurs sheepishly, grabbing Obi-Wan's shoulders to steady himself. This simple contact paired with the warmth of his Master's body under his own makes his lower belly tighten with want. 

"From now on you'll do exactly as I say." Obi-Wan warns in the same voice he uses during the pre-debrief missions with his men. His General voice. It makes Anakin grow harder in the tight confine of his leggings. 

"Yes." He breathes out, compelling himself to stillness even though his body buzzes with wild energy. "Told you I'll be good." 

"I'm not believing you in the slightest." Obi-Wan whispers back, lowering his eyes until his gaze falls on Anakin's groin. The corner of his lips twitches as he looks up again, an amused spark dancing in the dark of his pupils. "You've already soaked your pants. You're going to come as soon as I enter you."

"I won't." Anakin shakes his head, cheeks turning crimson when he realizes how undone he looks already. "I promise. I can wait." 

"I don't have any lube." Obi-Wan states. 

"It's fine." Anakin groans. "I don't care."

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow at that and Anakin feels his cheeks grow even hotter. 

"It's fine." He repeats. "Just use spit or whatever. I just need you inside. Please." 

Obi-Wan looks unsure and Anakin's pretty sure he's already putting together an endless list of questions in his head, so he leans forward to press their lips together. His heart misses a bit when Obi-Wan automatically cups his face, skilled hands slipping on the back of his neck, and kisses him back with the same fervor. 

"Yes." Anakin breathes out against his mouth when they part. "I'm clean. No, I don't need you to prep me. And yes, I will scream if you don't take me right now. I will." 

Obi-Wan slightly pulls away, squinting at him suspiciously. 

"Did you- Have you… planned any of this ?" 

Anakin - who's been working to open the front of his pants - looks up at him from under his eyelashes and gives him his most perfect imitation of an innocent smile. 

"Maybe."

The incredulous look on Obi-Wan's face is enough of a reward in itself for the efforts Anakin had put in his little scheme, but still it isn't enough.

"You're…" Obi-Wan shakes his head in disbelief, hands sliding from his face to the narrowness of his waist. 

"Irresistible ?" Anakin grins, standing for a second to push his leggings and underwear down on his thighs. "I know." 

"I was going to say 'a pain in my ass'." Obi-Wan mutters, fingers traveling lower to the swell of Anakin's butt, squeezing the soft flesh and pulling him closer to press a soft kiss on his pubis. 

Anakin bites his lips at the gentle scratch of beard against his skin, swallowing the noise he feels growing in the back of his throat. 

"Obi-Wan…" 

"Turn around." Obi-Wan murmurs, caressing his thighs as he does, before his fingers disappear, their absence leaving traces of fire on Anakin's skin. 

When he takes a look behind his back, the sight makes his mouth water and his guts clench in pure desire. Obi-Wan has taken himself out of his pants, opened just enough to let Anakin see his leaking hardness peeking through the folds of his tunics. Then he gives his cock a few strokes and Anakin suddenly feels weak in the knees. 

"Kriff."

Fingers come back on his hip, slowly leading him back down onto Obi-Wan's laps. 

"Careful." Obi-Wan whispers as Anakin eagerly follows the hand guiding him, bracing himself on the table in front of him. "Be patient, dear. And keep quiet." 

Anakin rolls his eyes with a groan, sitting down until he feels the tip of Obi-Wan's cock brushing against his rim, and he shudders as he lets himself slide slowly on the slick head opening him up. A shaky moan breaks past his lips as he welcomes another inch, arms trembling slightly above the table. 

"Fuck, Obi-Wan…"

A second hand comes to rest on his other hip, preventing him from simply impaling himself all the way down Obi-Wan's shaft. 

"Don't want you to hurt yourself." Obi-Wan whispers in his back before he can whine about it, drawing soothing circles on his hips with his thumb as he controls his pace, much to Anakin's frustration. 

"I can take you." He mumbles, trying to press down a little faster, but his Master's grip is firm and his rhythm agonisingly slow. "S'not the first time." 

"I know you can." Obi-Wan replies quietly. "But the conditions are far from ideal. Plus, you told me you'd be good." 

"You're just teasing." Anakin growls, glancing behind his shoulder to glower at him, even though his credibility must have vanished somewhere in between his stained pants and needy whimpers. 

"Maybe a little." Obi-Wan admits. 

How he manages to keep his composure remains a secret for Anakin who's quickly falling apart as his Master's cock spreads him wide, a slight burn going along with the stretch as his walls protest against the lack of lubrication. He tries to push past the pain to focus on the sensation of having Obi-Wan filling him up almost entirely, hard and heavy inside of his belly. He gasps loudly as Obi-Wan guides him down the last inches, settling him on his thighs as he adjusts his position, sending shock waves of pain and pleasure up Anakin's spine. He has to press both of his hands on his mouth not to cry out about the sensation. 

A pair of arms wrap around his waist while lips press gently on the back of his neck. 

"Are you okay ? Too much ?" Obi-Wan asks in a whisper. Anakin thinks he might hear the 'I told you so' in his tone but he only hears genuine concern. 

"I'm fine." He winces, focusing on taking a couple of breaths through his nose. "I'm just-"

Full. He feels fuller than he's ever been. He's almost convinced that he could feel Obi-Wan's cock through the wall of his abdomen if he pressed his hand on it, which he does. Of course he can't feel anything, but the fact that Obi-Wan is inside of him, buried deep and stretching him wide, like Anakin belongs on his cock, belongs to him, is enough to awaken the fire in his belly and make his half-hard cock leak profusely on his pants. He's about to rock his hips to feel his Master's entire lenght pumping on his hole when the fingers on his waist tighten their grip, restraining his movements. 

"That was not the deal." Obi-Wan hums against his ear. "The deal was to let you sit on my cock, and focus on the work we have to do, remember ?" 

"Kriff the work." Anakin grunts, wiggling slightly in a desperate search for friction. "I can't focus on stupid work when you're filling me up like this."

"This was your idea." Obi-Wan reminds him, pulling on his and Anakin's robes to hide most of their lower halves, before leaning forward to grab his abandoned book. "Now, let me work." 

The simple movement sends Anakin panting above the table as Obi-Wan's cock temporarily pushes deeper inside of him before he comes back to his original position, sliding along his walls at an angle that makes him see stars for a second. 

"Stop moving." He chokes. "I'm going to come."

"You assured me you could wait." Obi-Wan replies, resting his book on Anakin's back for support. "So you'll wait until I find the information I've been searching for. If, and only if you behave, I might give you a treat later." 

Later turned out to be an hour, then a second. Anakin had dozed off on the table at some point, only pulled from his slumber by the regular rocking of Obi-Wan's body when he changed books and sent involuntary jolts of pleasure stabbing him in the lower belly. It woke up his arousal every time, and every time Obi-Wan dampened his enthusiasm by telling him he wasn't over with the karking research. Another frustrating thing Anakin had to come to term with, was the weird feeling of Obi-Wan periodically getting softer all the while staying firmly buried inside of him. Every time he was getting impossibly hard again, Anakin felt like he couldn't take it anymore. He almost asked to stop, once or twice, but his pride and the perspective of finally getting fucked for his good behaviour was always stronger. 

He was floating in between wake and drowsiness when he heard Obi-Wan close an umpteenth book and felt him lean forward to put it on the table. He didn't even open his eyes this time, letting the wave of arousal cross his body with the realization that he was too exhausted to try to do something about it. He is about to let himself drift into the limbos again when a hand makes its way under the folds of his tunic to press on his abdomen and the rough brush of a beard comes tickling the side of his ear. 

"Are you asleep ?"

Blinking away the slumber weighing down on his eyelids, Anakin hums and turns his head for his cheek to be met with a gentle pair of lips. 

"I'm done. We can go home so you can rest properly." 

Anakin raises an eyebrow at the words, the last of his sleepiness flying away, progressively being replaced with a prickling sensation in the guts he knows all too well. 

"Have I been good ?" He asks, rocking his hips back slightly to chase the sparkles igniting in his lower belly. 

"The best." Obi-Wan replies low, pressing his cheek against his own before pushing his hips forward, slow and steady.

"Ah…" Anakin breathes out, pleasure running down to his toes like droplets of fire. He can feel it again, Obi-Wan growing hard inside of him, taking all the space, claiming him, making him experience the overwhelming feeling of being entirely, impossibly filled up, complete. It takes his breath away. 

"You've been so good." Obi-Wan murmurs against his cheek, embracing him with his arms, his words, his scent. 

Anakin doesn't really know how he ends up on his feet, bent over the table in a sea of precious ancient books. All that he knows is that Obi-Wan is holding his hips and the next moment, he's moving inside of him. He pulls out slowly before pressing inside again, and again, and again. He's slow and gentle but it still hurts at first because everything's dry and he's been stretched for too long. He doesn't say it though, because there's something else, an aching need pulsing deep inside of him that he needs relief from. It gets better when Obi-Wan's precome starts to coat his walls, when his body warms up and they find their rhythm. It gets so good Anakin almost forgets where they are and Obi-Wan has to press a hand on his mouth to prevent him from moaning too loudly. He can't help himself, the ache inside of him is growing larger with every thrust of Obi-Wan's hips, stealing his breath away and making his eyes tear up. He wants harder, he wants deeper, reaches behind to grab Obi-Wan's ass and keep him closer with every move. He wants all of him, everything, now. He's so close it's frustrating. It's so good it hurts. He cries, face down on the table, Obi-Wan almost stops. He threatens to kill them both if he does. Keep going, keep going. He's so close. He wants to come untouched. Wants Obi-Wan to fuck his hole so good he comes from this only. He can't seem to be able to. The ache is still there, burried in between his loins. Obi-Wan starts radiating worry in the Force. Anakin doensn't know what time it is, if they're supposed to leave, if they risk being caught. He doesn't care. He just wants Obi-Wan to press on his ache and make it disappear. He just wants relief.

And it comes, finally. When Obi-Wan understands that he'll have to find something else than giving attention to his dick. He slips a hand in between Anakin's chest and the table and captures one of his nipple through the fabric of his tunic, gently tugging and rolling the perked up little bud between his fingers until it borders on painful. As he does, he lay his chest on Anakin's back and presses his body against the hard wood, lips trailing on the soft skin behind his ear. 

"You're so good, Anakin." He whispers in his neck, hips slapping hard against his ass. "So good for me. I adore you. I got you. Come for me, Anakin. Anakin."

He doesn't know if it's Obi-Wan's words, his hands, his weight pressing down on him or the relentless thrusts against his prostate but Anakin comes with his Master praying his name in the crook of his neck. 

His orgasm strikes him like a lightning bolt, crossing through his body with such strength he blacks out for a second. When he comes back to his senses, he's still pressed against the table and Obi-Wan is painting heavily against his curls, one arm wrapped around his waist as the other gently brushes along his shaking thigh. 

He doesn't have the strength, nor the time to say a word that Obi-Wan kisses the corner of his jaw and pulls away, lifting Anakin's pants and underwear up his legs, delicately tucking his wet cock back inside like it's something he did everyday. 

"We have to go." 

"Give me a sec." Anakin breathes out, wincing at the unpleasant sensation that made the sticky mess in his pants. Obi-Wan's cum leaking from him, he realizes with a blush. 

Obi-Wan is already cleaning the space, his robes unsoiled and neat as he piles up the books and crouches under the table to wipe Anakin's seed on the floor. Anakin follows his movements from his spot, too tired to even think about being embarrassed. He likes it when Obi-Wan takes care of him, whatever the circumstances. 

Finally noticing that Anakin is starring at him without planning on moving, Obi-Wan approaches and pushes his sweaty curls away from his forehead. 

"Are you going to lie on this table all night ? It can't be comfortable." 

"I've had worse." Anakin mumbles. 

"Come on." Obi-Wan grabs his flesh hand, intertwining their fingers. "I'll take you home, put you in a burning shower and order you a meal. Deal ?" 

Anakin feels the corner of his lips rise against his will, and his heart starts beating a bit faster at the domesticity of the proposition. How he loves that man. 

He'll tell him one day. 

"Deal." 

Chapter Text

"Alright guys, let's stop there and make camp for the night." 

Anakin lifts his thick scarf higher up on his face and gives an inquiring look to his Captain standing a few feet below him. He's not entirely sure that his voice had carried through the protective layers of fabric wrapped around his head, the incessant gusts of freezing wind and to the rest of the troop lined up knees deep in the snow. But Rex gives him a curt nod and takes the lead, walking back to the others to start organising the improvised camp. 

Anakin turns around when he's sure everyone has understood the orders and makes his way higher, following the light trail of steps drawn in the snow to a small promontory overlooking the valley they were in a couple of hours ago. 

Obi-Wan's there, standing on the edge, alone. The white of his coat blends in with the landscape, miles and miles of ivory forests and mountains, frozen rivers and pale skies. It's the only sight they've had for almost four days now, and they still have many more to come. 

Obi-Wan's presence is wavering in the Force when he approaches, fluttering and elusive, slipping away from him when he tries to poke it gently with his mind. It's been like this - and worse - since they've arrived on that planet. Obi-Wan had locked up inside his own head, spending most of his days lost in his thoughts and what was left of his time denying it. Anakin could only watch helplessly as the distance between them grew wider every day. 

"There's a blizzard coming." Obi-Wan states, handing Anakin the binoculars he was using a second before. 

He doesn't turn to him, doesn't even tear his gaze away from the horizon. Anakin can only see his eyes, clear like the water trapped in the glaciers, and the frosted tip of his eyelashes. The sight holds such a fragile, ephemeral beauty that Anakin forgets where he is and why they're here for a while, losing himself in his contemplation, the device hanging uselessly by his side. He would like to kiss Obi-Wan's eyelashes and feel the snowflakes melt against his lips. He would like to hold him in his arms and take for himself whatever has been bothering him and that he thinks he has to endure alone in silence. 

But there's something holding him back. His own insecurities, his constant fear of being too much, of making things worse, of being a burden. 

"The men are preparing the camp for the night." He announces, but what he really wants to say is 'i love you, please talk to me.' 

"Good." 

Obi-Wan puts his protective glasses back on and turns around to make his descent to the camp. The moment is gone. Anakin fights back the tears burning behind his eyes and follows him. 

The tents are ready in less than an hour and the dinner is eaten quickly around a makeshift campfire that does little to warm them up from the vicious cold making it's way under their clothes and inside their bones. The imminent blizzard is not helping as well. The wind, sharp and uncompromising, makes them retreat in their respective tents not long after. 

Obi-Wan is already preparing his bed for the night when Anakin enters their common space and makes a quick job to caulk every possible air intakes with whatever he finds within reach. 

The silence is hanging heavy between them as Anakin places his last piece of unused clothes against the foot of the door and turns around. Obi-Wan is sitting on his sleeping bag laid on the hard floor, visibly struggling to open his coat with his gloves hands. His fingers are shaking. Badly. And his growing frustration sends barely concealed flickers of annoyance through their bond. 

"Let me help." Anakin proposes quietly, crossing the few steps between them to come kneel in front of him. 

Obi-Wan's eyes fly to him and for a second, Anakin thinks he's going to tell him to fuck off, but his shoulders slump suddenly as he lets out a heavy sigh. 

"Thank you." 

Anakin swallows and focuses on the frozen zipper of his coat, his prosthesis making a quick, effortless job at pulling it all the way down. 

"Here you go." He mutters, avoiding his gaze as he stands up to take care of his own wet clothes. 

Undressing and putting on dry clothes is a thirty seconds job but he still has time to feel the violent bite of the cold on his bare skin, leaving him shivering despite his thermic attire. And there he thought there was no place colder than space. 

As he turns around to join his own sleeping bag, he notices that Obi-Wan has not moved since he opened his coat and is still wearing it, sitting on the floor in the same position. 

"You should change and warm up." He advises. "You're gonna catch death if you stay like this." 

Of course Obi-Wan knows this. Anakin did learn it from him after all. He shouldn't have to remind him basic survival lectures. But when he sees that his words produce no reaction from his Master, he realizes there might be something wrong. 

"Obi-Wan ?" 

Anakin walks to him with a frown, noticing the slight but constant shiver running through Obi-Wan's body as he gets closer, the way he's hunched over himself, limbs and neck rigid. He doesn't like this. 

As he crouches in front of him, he hears the repetitive sound of teeth chattering behind the scarf tied around his mouth and nose. His fingers are curled up inside of his wet gloves and he doesn't move, not even when Anakin pushes the fabric down his chin. 

"You're freezing." He breathes out, eyes focusing on the bluish edges of his lips and nose. "Obi-Wan, you have to undress, now." 

"I- I can't." The older Jedi murmurs. "I'm- I'm too… too cold." 

"I know." Anakin replies and swears under his breath as Obi-Wan starts shaking and chattering his teeth even harder. "But if you don't, you'll die." 

Without waiting for an answer, he starts untying Obi-Wan's scarf, throwing it on the other side of the tent along with his hat and gloves. Obi-Wan's fingers are worryingly purple but he keeps that problem for later. Despite his protests, he takes out his coat as well and leaves him for a minute to go grab some dry clothes in his travel bag. 

Then he peels his layers one by one until he's completely naked and trembling under his hands. With a towel he tries to get rid of the last bits of humidity as much as he can and then begins the process of dressing him up again with functional clothes. 

When he's done, Obi-Wan is still shaking and shivering, but at least he's dry now. Anakin opens the zipper of his sleeping bag and pats the space inside of it. 

"Come on, get in here." 

Obi-Wan obeys without protest and curls up on his side, diving in until only his nose shows up. 

"Good." 

Anakin picks up his own sleeping bag and zips it open to lay it on him before worming his way beside his Master and closing the bag on them both. When he presses himself against Obi-Wan's back, he feels him tensing up during a split second. He tries not to let it hurt him. 

"What are you doing ?" Obi-Wan whispers when he wraps a hand around his waist and grabs one of his shaky hands to stroke it gently. 

"I know you don't want me right now." Anakin replies, trying to keep his voice level. "But you're dangerously cold, and you need to warm up." 

Obi-Wan doesn't answer. He doesn't get closer but he doesn't make a move to pull away, which is a tiny victory for Anakin. Pressing the long line of his body a little bit harder against him, he rests his forehead on the back of Obi-Wan's neck, still rubbing his fingers to activate the blood flow. 

"You can put your feet between my thighs." He says. "I don't mind." 

Obi-Wan makes a tiny noise in the back of his throat, but a few seconds laters, freezing feet slip inside the warm embrace of his legs. Anakin winces at the icy cold sensation but keep his thighs tightly closed around Obi-Wan's feet. 

There's a long silence, only disturbed by the occasional chatter of Obi-Wan's teeth, or the shivers running down his spine. Anakin embraces him as much as he can, trying to shield him from the cold. His nose is pressed on the back of his neck, where Obi-Wan's silky hair have grown longer. He can smell the perfume of his shampoo, some essence from a planet he doesn't remember but his Master adores. So he does. It smells good. It smells like him. 

"You hate when I do that." 

Obi-Wan's whisper resonate in the dark closeness of their cocoon. Anakin opens his eyes, heart wavering. 

"When you do what ?" He asks in the same tone. 

When you don't speak to me ? When you push me away ? When you grow cold and distant ? 

"You hate when I put my cold feet under your butt." Obi-Wan answers. 

A tired chuckle escapes Anakin's lips. 

"Well, circumstances." He replies flatly. "I can endure feeling a bit uncomfortable if it means you keep your toes." 

Obi-Wan hums before letting out a little sigh. 

"You said I didn't want you right now." He starts, hesitantly. "This is not true. I want you by my side all the time. I need you. I just- I don't know how to ask you." 

Anakin frowns, split between the bitterness he has accumulated these past four days and genuine confusion. 

"You don't have to ask me." He replies. "I'm here for you, always." 

"I know." Obi-Wan sighs again. "It's just… You've already been through so much, I don't want to be a burden to you." 

"What are you saying ?" Anakin groans, tightening his hold around his body, lips pressed against the still slightly damped tips of his hair. "You're not a burden. You make everything about my life more bearable. I'm the one who make things harder for you." 

"Don't say that." Obi-Wan chastises, intertwining their fingers on his chest. Anakin prefers his indignation to his silence. "You have no idea what you mean to me." 

Outside, the wind has started howling, slapping against the walls of their small shelter and covering the camp in angry twirls of snow. Anakin snuggles a bit closer against Obi-Wan. He has stopped shaking. Against his palm pressed on his chest, he can feel his heart beating at a familiar, comforting rate. 

"I miss you." He confesses in the dark. 

"I'm right here." Obi-Wan replies quietly, a slight hesitation in his tone confirming to Anakin what his answer really is : a deflection. 

"I miss when you talk to me." He elaborates then. "I miss laughing with you. I miss your sleepy face in the morning. I miss when you embrace me at night." 

In his arms, Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath, but he stays silent. 

"I miss kissing you." Anakin continues in a murmur, gently pressing a tentative kiss against the back of his neck. 

This time, the shiver that runs through Obi-Wan has nothing to do with the cold. 

"Anakin…" 

"I miss your body." The young man goes on, untangling their fingers to run his hand up Obi-Wan's arm and to his shoulder, before letting it slide to this waist. "I miss your skin. I miss making love with you. I miss our connection." 

Consciously or not, Obi-Wan presses back against him with a breathy noise. Anakin slips his hand down, resting it on the soft fabric covering his stomach. 

"I miss all of you." He whispers in his ear, drawing a pained noise from the back of Obi-Wan's throat. 

"Show me." 

Anakin's whole body ignites at the two little words, a challenge or a prayer, he doesn't really know. All of the pent-up frustration he has accumulated the last few days dissolve in these two fragile syllables, leaving him lightheaded with relief and determined to show Obi-Wan's his undying devotion. 

The hand on his stomach slowly travels lower, brushing over the warm fabric on his thigh and gently squeezing the firm muscles there while his mouth trails down from the soft skin behind his ear to the collar of his thermic sweater, placing sweet kisses along his fluttering pulse. 

"Need you closer." Obi-Wan mutters, entangling their legs and reaching a hand behind him to slip his fingers in the curls at the base of Anakin's neck, tugging him nearer. 

Anakin lets out an appreciative hum as Obi-Wan's nails slightly scratch his scalp. He presses another open-mouthed kiss on the pale expanse of his throat, taking a moment to suck on the thin skin there, making Obi-Wan gasp and arch against him. His ass firmly pressed against Anakin's groin, the young Jedi can feel himself grow hard as his Master squirms and pants with each mark he leaves on him. His fingers close into a fist on his hair, sending thousands of sharp prickles of pleasure down Anakin's spine. 

"Master…" 

The word escapes him, too lost as he already is in the haze of desire, and he bites his tongue as soon as he realizes. But Obi-Wan doesn't seem to notice. He pulls on his curls and grinds his ass harder against Anakin's bulging erection. 

"Touch me." 

Anakin feels a sudden warmth spreading through his veins as Obi-Wan speaks again, hot and demanding. There's no way he's getting his Master naked after putting so much effort into warming him up, so he'll have to improvise. Adjusting his grip on Obi-Wan's thighs, he starts rutting slowly against him, his cock digging into the fabric covering the crack of his ass. Obi-Wan makes a choked sound at the feeling, grabbing Anakin's hand on his thigh to press it between his legs, the thinness of the material doing nothing to hide his obvious hardness. As he palms him through his pants, Obi-Wan lets out a low moan that is immediately swallowed by the scream of the blizzard outside. 

"Fuck, you're so hot." Anakin whimpers, wrapping his fingers around what he can hold of Obi-Wan's cock over his layers of clothes. 

As he starts to stroke him through the fabric, Obi-Wan starts to moan louder, throwing his head back against Anakin's shoulder. He's grinding his ass harder against his erection and Anakin feels like he's going to explode with the overwhelming sensation of their rediscovered closeness, the layers between them adding to the experience. He's already soiling his underwear with precome, leaking so abundantly he wonders if Obi-Wan can feel it through his clothes. He's so hard his cock is digging harder inside Obi-Wan's crease, making the older man wet the front of his pants where Anakin is stroking him. 

He never really had the occasion to be on top with Obi-Wan, so when his Master releases his hold on his curls to grab the meat of his own cheeks, spreading them for him, Anakin almost comes here and now. He angles his hips so the tip of his swollen cock hits against Obi-Wan's hole with each of his thrusts, almost hoping to be able to fuck into him with his clothes on, seed permeating the coton, the wet roughness of the fabric leaving his rim red and puffy. 

"Anakin-" Obi-Wan gasps suddenly, chest heaving rapidly. "I'm going to come." 

Anakin realizes then that his hand is slick with the precome soaking Obi-Wan's pants. Straightening on his elbow, he pushes his Master on his back and makes himself a place between his legs, sticking their groin together before Obi-Wan can protest and leaning on him to capture his lips in a hot kiss. 

Obi-Wan's broken moan vibrates in his mouth as he starts rutting their hips together in a faster rhythm, their confined cock brushing deliciously against each other. Obi-Wan wraps his arms around his neck and his fingers find their place back in his hair as Anakin licks into his mouth, swallowing all the high-pitched, illicit noises he makes. 

They're both close, he can feel it in the tension of their body humping desperately together, in the way their kisses become an uncoordinated mess and the fact that the Force pulses frantically in their bond. 

It's Obi-Wan that comes first, arching against Anakin's hips with a strangled moan, the stain on the front of his pants growing larger as he spends his seed against his own skin, adding to the already sticky mess. Anakin follows soon after, his orgasm coursing through him like a volcanic eruption, soaking the already more than wet fabric. He gives Obi-Wan one last, languid kiss before collapsing on top of him, out of breath. 

It takes a minute for both of them to come to their senses, panting softly in the dark of their tent as the storm rages outside. 

"Still feeling cold ?" Anakin whispers when he finally finds the strength to raise his head from the comfortable pillow of Obi-Wan's chest. 

Obi-Wan snorts and combs his sweaty curls back with his fingers. 

"I think my lips are still a bit blue." 

"Oh yeah ?" Anakin asks, trying but failing to hide his grin. 

"Mh mh." Obi-Wan nods seriously. "I could die." 

"I have to take this matter very seriously then." Anakin answers, now grinning fully as he leans over him, joining their lips in a long, tender kiss in which they both hum contentedly. 

When they part, Anakin cups Obi-Wan's cheek in the palm of his hand and smiles softly. 

"Hey. Welcome back." 

If it wasn't so dark, he could see the pretty blush colouring Obi-Wan's face, but he just has to guess it from the way he turns his head only slightly, as if to avoid his gaze. 

"Thank you." He whispers low, his breath tingling Anakin's palm. 

"You know I'm here for you." Anakin murmurs back, gently stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. "You can always come to me." 

He can hear Obi-Wan swallow audibly, and the rise of his chest against his own as he takes a large breath. 

"It's been twelve years since… since Qui-Gon died, today." He finally says quietly. 

Anakin's eyes widen in the dark. How could he have forgotten ? Obi-Wan was always so secretive about his grief, but each year he'd find a way to honour his late Master's memory, one way or another. Anakin wasn't always here for it, and he had to admit he had started to let it slip from his mind after a while. He knew the man mostly from memories, some his own but mainly Obi-Wan's, so he didn't feel the same pain his Master was experiencing. 

"Oh, Obi-Wan." He murmurs softly, flooding their bond with waves of love and support. "I'm sorry, I forgot." 

"It's fine." Obi-Wan answers with a sigh. "I don't know why I feel this way. Some years I'm alright and sometimes it just… Comes back to kick me in the ass." 

"Master Yoda would say that grief is like that." Anakin replies. "That healing is not a linear thing and that everyone mourns at their own pace. You're allowed to feel sad, you know ?" 

"It's just-" Obi-Wan interrupts himself and Anakin can feel him nipping at his bottom lip. "I'm wondering what he would think about me, about the promise I made to him, about your training and…" 

"About us ?" Anakin guesses. 

"Yes." Obi-Wan admits. "I feel like… If he's somewhere out there, watching, he would see that I failed him, as his Padawan and as your Master." 

Anakin doesn't let the words sting him personally. He knows that they're only a reflection of Obi-Wan's fears and anxieties. Instead, he caresses his cheek and presses his nose against his own. 

"I don't think he would judge us." He declares genuinely. "From what I gathered, he was the type to use the Code as a guide rather than strict rules to follow blindly. He had his own beliefs. I think- No, I'm sure he would be proud of you, of what you've become and what you've made of me. And I think he would be happy to see you happy. And loved." 

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan's whisper brushes against his lips, small and unsure. 

"I love you." Anakin says, his tone definitive as he presses a kiss on his lips. 

"I know." Obi-Wan replies in a murmur against his mouth. "I love you too." 

Satisfied, Anakin pecks his lips once more before laying back on his chest, his head resting on the crook of his shoulder. He is completely drapped over him like that, keeping him warm and - he hopes - protecting him from his demons for at least that night. 

He's about to doze off when something makes a laughter bubble up in this chest. 

"He would still call us idiots." He grins against Obi-Wan's shoulder. 

"Why ?" Obi-Wan asks, barely stifling a yawn. 

"This was our only change of clothes." 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Anakin goes down the stairs of the filthy, private cave with the hood of his leather cloak pulled low on his face. He can already hear the loud thrumming of the music played on the clandestine bar, the acrid smell of deathsticks entering his lungs and impregnating his clothes even before he steps inside of the room.

Outside, the streets are soaked with the constant rain pouring from the higher levels, clogging the drain outlets and tearing a putrid stink from the malfunctioning sewers vomiting trash and unidentified substances at their feet.

Anakin doesn't care. He never cared about the rain, not even when it soaked him to the bones. He knows the precious value of it. Used to cherish it, as a slave and as a Jedi.

Not today, though. Today, he doesn't care. He doesn't care about the rain, about this place, about the fact that he's currently breaking all the rules the Council imposed on him a week ago.

He doesn't care because nothing really matters since Obi-Wan died six days and nine hours ago. Since he's been killed.

The Council had been decisive ; he wouldn't take part in the investigation. He was too involved, too unstable, too volatile. Out of their control.

The betrayal had stung more violently than he had imagined. He had to bite his tongue until he had felt the metallic taste of blood invading his mouth in order to draw deep inside of himself and find the self-control not to blow up the entire chamber with the sheer strength of his rage.

He had agreed, jaw clenched so hard he had felt his teeth strain under the pressure, anger overpowering grief as he bowed and started making a dozen plans in his head.

Anger keeps him focused. An incandescent rage he hadn't experienced since his mother's death, coiling around his guts like a white-hot wire. It's still better than grief. Grief paralyses, anger keeps him going.

That is why he is here tonight. If he couldn't get any information from the Council, he still managed to snatch a name from Quinlan Vos after the man made him swear to leave the matter into the competent authorities' hands.

He had sworn easily, almost pitying Obi-Wan's friend for the faith he had showed in his trust. For someone who prided himself in his fantastic ability to read people, he should have guessed what was coming. Or maybe he knew. It was hard to tell with the tricky bastard.

Anyway, he had a lead now.

Rako Hardeen.

A single name, no information attached to it. It was a feeble lead but a lead nonetheless.

A trail that led him to the club in which he was entering just now.

There's a compact crowd moving to the beats of a noisy music in the center of the cave, smoke floating in the cramped space between the low ceiling and their heads. The music is immediately too loud for his oversensitive ears, but he grinds his teeth and makes his way to the bar, long coat floating around his boots.

People are hurdling close against the counter, shouting at each other over fluorescent drinks in order to be heard. Slipping in between two intoxicated couples, Anakin pushes his hood back on his shoulders and runs a hand through his freshly cut hair, still not completely used to his exposed neck and the short length on his sides. He'll miss his messy curls, but he had to make small adjustments in order to blend in more easily and conceal the parts of him most people had seen on the holonet. The last thing he needs is for someone to tell the Council about his presence here.

Hence the haircut, the green contacts and the outfit. He even dropped his daily shaving to let grow a bit of a stubble, which is a sensitive nightmare he can't wait to get rid off. He doesn't know of Obi-Wan does it. Did.

His drink arrives the moment a wave of suffocating feelings threatens to swallow him whole and he downs it in one go, hoping to anesthesize the pain. He has to stay focused.

Putting his glass back on the sticky counter, he makes sure the piece of cloth he tied around his head in order to hide his scar is secure enough and turns around to glance at the packed room.

The man he's searching for is supposed to be here, tonight. He's got a vague description of his physical appearance. Bald, tattooed, muscular. The bad guy archetype, he supposes. Not someone he would picture dancing on wild beats amongst rebellious teenagers but rather preying in the shadows for his next contract.

That's where he finds him, exactly. Sitting in a corner of the room, spread on his chair with a half-empty drink in hand. He looks relaxed and unbothered but Anakin notices the way his eyes scan the room methodically, jumping from one face to another as he sorts people by interests. That is not a man who's looking for a way to enjoy his night, that is a man on the hunt and Anakin is just about to give him something to sink his teeth into.

Grabbing the two drinks he ordered just before, he detaches himself from the bar and makes his way to the man, smoothing his expression into one of calm confidence. He's not there to spook him. Not yet, anyway.

Hardeen notices him before he can make his presence known, straightening a bit on his chair as he turns his head to him, brows furrowing slightly. Anakin watches him look him up and down, appraising him with sharp eyes to try and determine if he's an opportunity or a threat.

With a polite smile, he hands him a glass, which the man pointedly ignores.

"Do I know you ?" He growls, keeping his nonchalant posture even though Anakin notices the way he subtly adjusts his stance.

Someone who's used to fight then. Someone who's prepared and doesn't like surprises.

"No." Anakin replies quietly, arm still outstretched with the drink as an invitation. "But you're about to. I've been told you had information I could use."

"Really." Hardeen retorts flatly, before turning his head back to the crowd. "You've been told wrong then, boy. I'm not here on business tonight."

Anakin hums. The dismissal couldn't be clearer but he's not going to leave without the information he needs. Putting the drinks on the table facing Hardeen, he grabs a nearby chair and drags it next to his own before sitting on it.

"See, I think you're exactly here on business." He says, retrieving his glass to take a sip of it.

Hardeen turns back to him, nostrils flaring in annoyance as he stares him down. His signature his weirdly confuse in the Force, like it's concealed behind a wall of water, moving and changing constantly, slipping between Anakin's fingers.

"And who are you, exactly ?" The man asks when he realizes he's not going to leave.

"Name's Set." Anakin smiles easily. "I've been told you knew a thing or two about dead Jedi."

Hardeen stiffens at the words, eyes going wide for a split second before his composure snaps back into place just as quickly.

So he knows something.

"Ever heard about a Jedi called Obi-Wan Kenobi ?" Anakin asks before the man can open his mouth to reply. "Rumors say he's been killed by one of your kind."

Hardeen squints slightly before leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Seems like you've heard a lot of things, kid."

"Well it's not every day that one of those guys break the news by being killed elsewhere than at war. Kinda thought they were immortal or something." Anakin smiles, the white of his canines flashing as he takes another sip of his drink. "Now it seems like any scum can put one down. Interesting, isn't it ?"

Hardeen raises an eyebrow, his gaze following the glass as it presses against his mouth before finding it's place back on the table.

"Maybe." He answers. "I struggle to see in what way that concerns me, though."

"I need to know who killed that Jedi." Anakin says then. "And I believe that you know."

The look they exchange is long and heavy with tension. Anakin doesn't like the way Hardeen is staring at him, scrutinizing and unreadable. His gaze travels over his face like he's trying to pierce his deepest secrets and for a second, he doubts about the pertinence of his cover. He's about to snap and demand answers when the man stands up suddenly, grabbing the drink Anakin brought him and drinking it down in one gulp.

"Let's take this conversation elsewhere."

Before Anakin can react, the man is already on his way, disappearing in the crowd. Swearing internally, he jumps on his feet to follow his outline amongts the dancing shadows of the club. The way he moves, fluid and sure-footed through the unpredictable mess of bodies and limbs, as well as the aura of calmness he exudes make Anakin tick. He doesn't know anything about that man but if he had to guess, he'd say he's not who he pretends to be. And he has no patience for liars.

As soon as they emerge into the small, deserted street behind the bar, Anakin springs into action. Reaching for the vibroblade hidden inside his boot, he grabs Hardeen by the shoulders and pushes him harshly against the wall, blade pressed on the fragile skin of his throat.

"Now, you tell me who you really are and what I need to know." He growls, all pretense abandoned in favor of impatience and frustration.

The man barely reacts to the threat, leaning back against the wall as his eyes travel from the weapon to Anakin's face. He doesn't make a move to free himself, observing him instead with the same look he had earlier on, like Anakin is a puzzle to solve. It makes him feel uncomfortable in spite of himself.

"So ?" He groans, getting impatient. "You wanted to talk, so talk."

Hardeen tilts his head to the side, brows furrowed slightly. Slowly, he raises a hand, catching Anakin off guard as he brushes the tip of his fingers against the edge of the cloth covering his right eye.

"Anakin…?"

His voice is hoarse, without a trace of accent but the way he says his name stabs him right in the chest. And Anakin knows it's impossible. He saw his body burn. Heart beating wildly against his ribs, he swats the man's hand away and presses the blade harder against his throat, making him hiss in pain as a carmine drop rolls down his neck. His brain is working at full speed as he reviews everything that could have given away his identity.

"What do you know about Obi-Wan Kenobi ?" He almost shouts in his face, unsettled and angry about the way things are turning.

"I know that he wouldn't want you to keep looking for him." Hardeen replies quietly.

"What are you-" Anakin lets go of him as suddenly as if he's been burned, and takes a step back, fury mixed with utter confusion. "What the hell are you talking about ?! How do you know my name ?"

Detaching himself from the wall, Hardeen approaches, matching him step for step until it's Anakin's turn to be pressed against the other side of the street.

"Don't get any closer." He threatens, holding his weapon out in front of him, but he realizes that his hand is trembling slightly.

Something is not adding up here. That man, the way he talks, the way he carries himself, the fact that he knows his real identity… It's almost like-

"Your beautiful hair." Hardeen sighs, reaching out to gently run his knuckles above Anakin's ear, making the young man freeze and hold his breath.

He knows he's supposed to react, to fight back and demand answers. He tries to remember the weight of his grief, the violence of his anger but there is only confusion filling up his mind, all-encompassing and overwhelming. His body feels numb and he barely registers the sound of the vibroblade falling on the pavement when the man cups his cheek. A sudden, gut-wrenching spark of hope goes right through him as he really looks at the man's eyes.

He's about to open his mouth when Hardeen leans forward and presses his lips against his own. Anakin's heart stops beating for a second. His lips are cold and dry and there's no beard tickling his skin, but the way he kisses him is the same. Soft and gentle, fingers curving on the back of his neck, searching for messy curls that are no longer there. And Anakin wants to let himself pretend. A quiet whimper escapes him as he kisses the man back, hands slidding on his shoulders to pull him closer. He doesn't really knows what he's doing, why it doesn't feel wrong to kiss other lips, why he doesn't feel guilty.

He opens his mouth when the man nips at his bottom lip and closes his eyes when his tongue licks behind his teeth. His brain short-circuits at the conflicting information, at that man that looks nothing like Obi-Wan but feels exactly the same when he presses his mouth on his own. A shiver runs through his body as Hardeen's lips travel lower, little puffs of warm air dancing on his skin as he trails kisses down his jaw and neck, teeth scraping against his pulse point, making him whine and expose his throat even more.

The man takes the opportunity to suck a bruise on the underside of his jaw, easing the dull pain with a lap of his tongue before doing it again lower. One of his arms wraps around his waist, pulling him closer as he pushes one of his knees in between Anakin's thighs, who's grateful for the wall behind his back for he doesn't trust his legs to keep him up. As soon as Hardeen's thigh presses against his groin, pinning him against the stones, he gives in and arches his back to chase the friction. There's nothing left of his rationality but he doesn't care. He wants to feel something else than the constant pain and the suffocating sorrow, than the destructive anguish and never ending fury.

"Fuck me." He whispers, almost begs as the man leaves another purple mark on his collarbone.

Hardeen raises his head, eyes locking with Anakin's in the dark. He doesn't ask if Anakin is sure, he doesn't ask any question really, simply grabs the Jedi's hips and flips him effortlessly against the wall before pushing his cloak to the side. Sighing, Anakin rests his cheek against the cold and humid stones, toes curling in anticipation in his boots as deft hands get to work on his belt. His leggings are quickly pulled down his knees, making him shiver as the damp air hits his skin. Hardeen's hands are gentle on his body, traveling up and down his thighs, spreading them as far as his pants allow it before going up to grab the swell of his ass. After kneeding the meaty flesh for a second, the man pulls his cheeks apart and brushes his thumb over his hole, drawing a shaky breath from Anakin who tilts his hips back even more.

"Please…"

"So eager." Hardeen hums against his neck, letting go of one of his cheeks to reach around and tap two fingers on Anakin's bottom lip. "Open your mouth for me."

Anakin's jaw goes slack immediately, letting the man press his fingers on the pad of his tongue. He closes his lips around them by reflex, sucking and coating the thick digits with his saliva. He doesn't focus on the taste, wrong and foreign and not Obi-Wan, because he knows they will feel good inside of him. And they do.

Hardeen doesn't waste his time easing him into it, he slides his dripping fingers inside of him as soon as Anakin finishes sucking on them, making him gasp and dig his nails in the wall, cock leaking between his legs. His movements are skilled and efficient as he opens him up and for a moment Anakin can swear the way he curls the tip of his fingers against his prostate his all Obi-Wan. But the wave of pleasure that crashes down on him makes him forget about it. He's rendered to a whimpering mess sooner than expected, wiggling his ass back and forth to fuck himself on Hardeen's fingers and already hard enough to explode.

Hardeen seems to notice the moment he's about to lose control because he removes his fingers and makes him turn back around against the wall.

"I want to see you come." He simply says when Anakin gives him a questioning look.

Anakin uses this moment to catch his breath, conscious about how dishevelled he must be looking already, hard and leaking, cheeks red and pupils blown wide with want. He should be disgusted in himself but he doesn't find the strenght to be. In front of him, Hardeen is opening the front of his pants, pulling out a cock wider and shorter than what he's used to. Cut, also, which he gives a curious but appreciative look at.

Reaching between them, he brushes the underside of the man's cock, eyes never leaving his and Hardeen grabs his chin to pull him in a kiss. Moaning softly against his lips, Anakin wraps his fingers around his cock and gives him a few strokes. It's Hardeen's turn to groan inside his mouth, hands traveling down his waist to cup his ass and squeeze it firmly. When Anakin thinks he's about to make him turn around again and take him from behind, Hardeen surprises him by lowering his hands on the back his thighs and lifting him up against the wall. Anakin lets out a startled yelp and wraps his arms around his neck to keep his balance, but the man seems to be able to support his weight with minimal efforts as he hoists Anakin's legs on his forearms, making him blush as he realizes how spread out and vulnerable he is like this.

He doesn't really have the time to dwell on it, though, when he feels the tip of the man's cock press against his rim. Resting his head back against the wall, he gives Hardeen a look through his eyelashes, fingers playing on the base of his neck.

"What are you waiting for ?"

Hardeen secures his hold on his hips and presses forward then, making Anakin cry out in pleasure as his cock finally breaches him, stretching his walls and burying deep inside of him. He lets out a loud gasp as the man pulls out, tip teasing his entrance for a second before sinking back inside of him again, and again. He gives in into a fast and rough rhythm from the start, forcing Anakin to tighten his hold around his shoulders and to bite his tongue to stifle the indecent sound of his moans. The fact that his movements are restrained and that he can't stop Hardeen from fucking him like he wants makes him even more aroused, fire coiling in his guts with every thrusts of the man's hips. Hardeen groans softly against his shoulder, fingers digging in the flesh of his hips as he keeps his thighs open and pumps his cock inside of his hole with little regard for his comfort. Stones are digging in Anakin's spine, rubbing the soft skin on the small of his back but he doesn't care, whining and whimpering for Hardeen to fuck him harder and make him forget about everything.

His plea doesn't go unnoticed, Hardeen pulling out and slamming back inside of him so hard it sends stars dancing on the edges of Anakin's vision. Tears start to gather at the corner of his eyes as the man keeps pounding inside of him, heat pooling inside of his guts which each slap of his balls against his ass and each hit of his cock against his prostate. He's about to come but there's something missing. He misses Obi-Wan's smell, his voice, his warmth and even if that man feels like him, he's not him. He's not him and he'll never be-

"Anakin." The broken moan that escapes Hardeen's lips rattles Anakin to the core.

He's not him but he sounds exactly like him. And it's enough for Anakin to feel his whole body tense as his orgasm crashes over him with the strenght of a blast. He hides his face in the crook of the man's shoulder, stifling a sob while his entire body trembles in exhaustion. He barely feels Hardeen come, hears him mumble something against his hair before he's put back on his feet again, shaky legs threatening to give up.

Leaning back against the wall for a second in order to regain his composure, Anakin quickly wipes his wet cheeks and glances at the man who's already tucking himself back into his pants. He realizes then that he has no more information than when he first entered in the bar, but he doesn't even have the time to open his mouth that Hardeen steps forwards, leans in and presses a kiss on his forehead.

"I'll be back to you soon." He murmurs, stroking his cheek gently. "Wait for me, Anakin, but don't follow me."

And with this he disappears, leaving Anakin distraught and painfully hopeful at the same time, harboring a broken heart, tears stains on his cheeks and fresh cum dripping down his thighs.