Chapter Text
I know you’re getting antsy, Anakin. I can sense your desire to do something reckless. Resist that urge, and I’ll reward you, alright?
They’ve been on this planet for two months; Anakin’s restlessness is understandable. What he decides to do with it, however, Obi-Wan finds himself more concerned about. When he sends out his former Padawan along with Rex and Cody to do recon, he makes his offer to Anakin, sensing he might do more than just reconnaissance without Obi-Wan’s eyes on him.
Hours later, Cody alerts him they’re on their way back. He gets a message from Anakin as well, telling him exactly what he’d like his reward to be, and Obi-Wan’s face heats so intensely he has to walk away from his other men to avoid being seen blushing.
Anakin gives his report, shifting on his feet with his pent-up energy. Rex gives his as well, and while he reports nothing Obi-Wan can turn his nose up at, he knows the Captain might be persuaded to lie as long as Anakin’s misbehaving didn’t go overboard. So, he turns to the only man who has no issue making Anakin look bad and occasionally seems to take joy in doing so.
“Cody?”
“Nothing to say that General Skywalker and Rex haven’t already said themselves, Sir.”
Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows. Well, he supposes he’s going to be sitting on Anakin’s face tonight. As he makes eye contact with the younger man across the holo-table, he knows Anakin is thinking the exact same thing. “You’re dismissed,” Obi-Wan tells the two clones. “We’ve nothing more to do tonight. Enjoy your leisure while you can.”
After Rex and Cody leave the large tent, Obi-Wan turns off the holo-table’s blue imagery and leans an arm on the table. “Color me shocked,” he drawls, giving Anakin a smarmy look.
Anakin uses the Force to jump over the table—show off—and presses him into it, teasing against Obi-Wan’s mouth. “Oh ye of little faith.”
Obi-Wan snorts and lets himself be kissed while he undresses himself; armor, belt, and tabards falling to the floor. When he pulls back to get his tunics off, he raises an eyebrow and asks, “Any particular reason for this request?”
“Do I need a reason to want to tongue-fuck your hole?” Anakin asks, before trying to kiss him again.
Dodging it, Obi-Wan grabs him by the chin and pets Anakin’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Humor me. I’m curious.”
Anakin relents, and he actually looks bashful for a moment as he shrugs and says, “I miss it.”
Obi-Wan blinks at him. “Unless my memory is going, I don’t seem to recall ever sitting on your face before. Or are you speaking of rimming me generally?” It’s the kind of straight-forward sex talk Anakin used to despise, but he’s coming around since realizing he can make Obi-Wan blush just as easily with his bluntness.
Like now: “No. I miss your hole.”
And Obi-Wan does blush. Not terribly intensely, though, because most of his blood is too busy rushing south to his cock. They’ve both gotten in the habit of carrying a few small packets of lubricant on joint missions should the opportunity arise, but those ran out after a single week on this planet, and they can’t waste their finite bacta supply on their selfish desires. Since the last of their lube ran out, they’ve been getting by mostly on blowjobs, which has worked just fine, but, Obi-Wan would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the fullness of Anakin being inside of him; the intimacy of being inside Anakin.
Endeared, ridiculously, Obi-Wan coos at him and cups his handsome face. “I miss your hole too, darling.” He reaches down and squeezes Anakin’s ass. “When we return to Coruscant, we’ll spend the entirety of our leave in bed.” Anakin hums and ducks down, their noses brushing, nuzzling each other’s cheeks. “But to tide you over until then…” Obi-Wan murmurs, letting go of Anakin to kick off his boots and pull his trousers down along with his briefs. “I’m going to sit on that pretty face of yours.”
Minutes later, Anakin is laying on the ground, still fully clothed, while fully naked Obi-Wan kneels over him, facing his feet. Despite his love for being eaten out, the position makes him feel oddly vulnerable, and Obi-Wan’s knees shift on the GAR-issued blankets Anakin had folded up for him to kneel on. He looks over his shoulder. “Should I—just—?”
Anakin looks ravenous. “Sit,” he says simply, grabbing Obi-Wan’s thighs and pulling him back.
He allows it until he feels Anakin’s nose brush his ass. Then, Obi-Wan stills and moans, “Oh,” just from knowing Anakin is so close. Pressing his palms to the hard muscles of Anakin’s stomach, Obi-Wan rocks back gently, and shudders as his tight, neglected hole is laved over by a warm, wet tongue. Anakin’s lips press to his rim, and he kisses it like he kisses his mouth, even moaning against it before pulling back.
“All the way, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says with another tug to his thighs.
As good as it feels, Obi-Wan protests. “I can’t fully sit on you, Anakin. I’m a grown man.”
“So am I,” Anakin says. He bites one of Obi-Wan’s ass cheeks.
Obi-Wan eyes the large bulge in his former Padawan’s pants. “I’m very aware of that.”
Leaning up, Anakin noses at his hole, which should be off-putting, but actually just sends a white-hot bolt of arousal up Obi-Wan’s spine. “Come on. Don’t make me force you.”
“Oh, please,” Obi-Wan scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Then, his hands on Anakin’s stomach—that happen to be holding most of his weight—are pulled behind his back by an invisible grip, making Obi-Wan lose his balance. He might’ve face planted right in Anakin’s groin, if not for the real hands pulling him back and forcing his weight down onto Anakin’s face.
Anakin moans right against his hole, saying something like yesyesyes, and Obi-Wan makes one futile attempt at putting his weight on his knees before Anakin uses the Force to keep him right where he is, practically smothering him.
It feels glorious. The more Anakin laps at him, the more his entrance relaxes, and soon, Obi-Wan’s hole is being shallowly fucked by Anakin’s tongue. Eyes rolling back, Obi-Wan pushes into the touch. “The things that incentivize you, Anakin. Force.”
Hands grope at his ass, splitting him open wider as Anakin tries to get deeper. For a moment, they push him up slightly, and Obi-Wan almost shoves himself back down before Anakin rubs his cheek against the spit-slick skin off his ass. “I’ve been thinking about this for days, Master. I can’t stand it when we bathe with the clones and I can’t grope you.”
Preserving their clean water supply has led to bathing in the nearby river. And while Anakin hasn’t groped him, that doesn’t mean he’s been an angel. Obi-Wan reaches down—Anakin must have given up on the Force grip, knowing the fight had left him—and takes him by the curls, keeping his head against the ground and away from his twitching hole and the spit-soaked blonde hair around it. “You still stare, though. Do you think I can’t feel your eyes burning a hole into me while I’m all slicked-up and soapy?”
Anakin whines and tries to raise his head. “I can’t help it. You’re such a show off.”
Obi-Wan will never admit it, but he’s right. There’s something delicious about being a little over-the-top when soaping up his pectoral muscles or his thighs; too thorough while cleaning his cock and balls under the surface while Anakin watches from across the water; bending over to retrieve his clothes after climbing out of the river.
Smiling lazily, he sways his ass slightly above Anakin’s head. “I’m surprised you’ve behaved this long.”
Anakin growls a little. “You should enjoy it while it lasts and stop teasing me.”
Obi-Wan hums, considering. Then, he says, “Have it your way,” before grinding back down on Anakin’s face. He keeps his hand in Anakin’s hair and uses it to keep him still, letting his hips take control. “Stick your tongue out, darling. I’m going to do all the work. You just lay there and be a good little toy for me, alright? I’ll fuck myself on your tongue just like you wanted.”
He does just that, notching his rim right against Anakin’s tongue and shoving himself down on it. Lazily, he strokes his cock, barely paying attention to it; Obi-Wan doesn’t think it’ll be very necessary for him to come. Attention on his hole after what feels like forever without it is working him up faster than usual, as is Anakin’s complete pliancy, the only movement coming from the boy being his cock twitching in his pants. Obi-Wan stares at the bulge of it and his mouth begins to water. He rocks himself back onto Anakin’s tongue and groans, wishing it was thicker. Wishing they had infinite bacta. Wishing their cocks were maybe a little smaller so fucking without lubricant wouldn’t be such a hazardous activity.
Sitting down fully, he lets Anakin huff against his ass and fruitlessly try to get his tongue deeper. Obi-Wan releases Anakin’s hair so he can slide his hands down the younger man’s torso, until he’s inches from his cock. “Once I come, Anakin, you’re going to get up and bend over the holo-table for me. I’ll eat you out until you bust all over it, and then I’m going to lick that up and feed it to you.”
Anakin groans against his hole, and Obi-Wan begins to feel his orgasm creep up on him. “But for now, sweet boy,” he sighs, leaning back up so he can wiggle his hips and smother Anakin a bit more, “Keep tonguing me just like that.”