#Kit Fisto art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maiaspen · 2 years ago

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Hey “Oblivion Gin” readers!

I swear to the Force that I am working hard on the finale for you! 💚 My writing confidence took a bit of a hit last month. I am human. I go through feels, sometimes inconvenient ones.

Thank you to all of my readers for continuing to support and encourage me. I’m hoping to have the story finished this month. 💪

Here’s another little teaser for you. The scene picking up where my last teaser left off. Here

I also have glorious supporting art by @kana7o to treat your eyes 😏

Please remember that this is a very rough draft, what ultimately makes it onto ao3 will be heavily scrutinized 🧐 these are just the raw words as they pour out of me.

Thank you all for your support! I can’t wait to share the full finale with you 💚💚💚

xo Maia

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Chapter 9 excerpt…

Anakin doubles his already quite doubled efforts to hustle, weaving pedestrians and commuters on citibikes and landspeeders. He’s aware that his surroundings are Coruscant-rush-hour-level-of-loud, and that it’s daylight; but only because Orea Dea’s singular sun has teamed-up with the Force to highlight his Jedi targets.

Entering the crowded spaceport, Anakin decelerates to a sneaky jog. The Force insists that he assess the situation before drawing his lightsaber and trimming Fisto’s tentacles (and testicles).

The pair of Masters are standing – huddled shoulder-to-shoulder– next to a cargo freighter that looks like it’s being prepped for take-off.

To Anakin’s tremendous relief, Obi-Wan’s posture is strong. He’s handsome as ever, fair head and facial-hair have been groomed to perfection. He’s dressed in his boots and tunic, which the medical staff was kind enough to launder. All of the sweaty-oily-mulchy- bloody souvenirs from their crab droid and ass face battle royales have been cleared away. Obi-Wan looks the epitome of a proper Jedi Master. But Fisto . . .

The droid wasn’t exaggerating.

Anakin gasps as bewilderment sweeps like a blizzard through his mind, whiting-out thoughts of all else but what Fisto is wearing. Or rather– not wearing.

(Thank you @kana7o for this Fisto sketch💚)

The Nautolan is clad in a darkened leather toga – a toga that looks like it’s been sized for Master Yoda. The skirt portion brushes his thick thighs, barely concealing his dignity. If there is a gust of wind – or if Fisto even raises his arms to stretch – everyone in this spaceport will see his cock and balls! Unless he’s wearing underwear, which Anakin strongly doubts. And the green bastard is wearing the toga like he’s doing it a favor. His muscles are bursting out of the garment. Those chiseled biceps and pecs belong on a Holomovie screen (probably a porno), not a public spaceport. There are younglings milling about!

Has the Nautolan been working-out obsessively the whole time they’ve been hospitalized? Gaining muscle and losing modesty?! Even from eight meters away Anakin can count his eight abdominals.

The ‘outfit’ includes knee-high strappy sandals, which accentuate his strong calves, and even– is that a collar? And, yes, Fisto is wearing a collar. A leather one with a metalloid loop. It’s like he’s begging to be latched by some kinky leash.

Master Kit Fisto is hotter than fire. He’s center-of-a-sun, liquid magma hot. How his toga hasn’t burst into flames, Anakin does not know. And, right now, Obi-Wan is reaching upward . . . laying a hand on that bulging bicep and squeezing—

“MASTER!” Anakin screams as though Obi-Wan is touching liquid magma! With a mighty Force-leap he closes the distance, landing before the Masters and snatching Obi-Wan’s hand. Anakin holds his Master’s hand to his chest like he’s saved it from a brutal roasting.

Obi-Wan makes a face like Anakin has pissed in his morning tea.

So, Anakin counters: pushing his bottom lip out, going for the most adorable pout he can muster. The kind of expression that always softened his mother’s irritation when he was late for their evening meal. To Anakin’s surprise, Obi-Wan actually blushes. Really blushes. Anakin is certain his rouge can be seen from outer space. Did touching Fisto actually burn him?

Suddenly, Anakin can feel his Master’s Force signature again – vibrating and sizzling like it’s super-heating. But Master Kenobi quickly regains control of his dermal blood vessels and his shielding, retaining the aurora of one who is cool and centered.

“I’ll take this back, thank you,” Obi-Wan says as he pulls his hand from Anakin’s grasp. He then offers a small but earnest smile, adding: “It’s good to see you up and about again, Anakin.”

“Thank you, Master. I can say the same to you–” Anakin starts, intending to ask what-in-all-the-hells is going on, when Fisto clears his throat.

The Nautolan grins broadly, teeth glinting like pearls under the sunlight. Anakin orders himself to keep looking at Fisto’s teeth. Not lower, not lower. “It is indeed good to see you both up and about,” Fisto declares. “I spoke with Master Windu this morning. The Council is sending a team to sluth-out what happened to the senator’s shuttle. They will arrive tomorrow, at which time you two are to take their transport back to Coruscant. I’m afraid our little shuttle is officially out-of-commission.”

Anakin processes Fisto’s words out loud. “So. Master Fisto, you won’t be . . .” he pauses. Pushing the obnoxious optimism from his voice is like trying to shove against a stubborn bantha. “ . . . you won’t be joining us on our voyage to Coruscant?”

Fisto smirks as though he is a stubborn bantha. “No.”

Anakin’s signature surges like a double nova! He barely resists cartwheeling all over the spaceport! He and Obi-Wan will be traveling back to Coruscant together and alone.

And are they spending the night here alone, too? Or is Fisto in his ‘little slut get-up’ going to be the third wheel?

“What’s with the, um,” Anakin waves his hands vaguely about Fisto’s ensemble. “The whole . . . whore look? And where did you get that outfit anyway? Are you going somewhere dressed like that?”

Obi-Wan cringes at Anakin’s words, but Fisto’s already broad smile only widens. “I’m being deployed. Immediately,” Fisto points to the nearby cargo freighter. “It’s an undercover mission. I’m being smuggled to Nal Hutta as a pleasure slave. I’m to be sold upon landing to my . . . target. I cannot divulge any further details, you understand. And, Skywalker, the Council has wardrobe sources on nearly every Republic planet,” Fisto says as though Anakin should know that. Which he does, he just didn’t know that the Republic’s sources kept skimpy togas on hand.

The weight of Fisto’s words take a moment to sink into Anakin’s brain, but when they do . . .

Anakin shakes his head, wanting the weight to be gone. “Hold on, the Council is sending you alone?”

Fisto nods. “They are.”

“Kit is quite capable of handling himself,” Obi-Wan interjects carefully, sensing Anakin’s . . . what? His concern? No. No way. He’s not concerned for Fisto safety. He’s fucking thrilled that Fisto is going away. Far, far away.

Anakin scoffs, though the sound comes out as more nervous than he’d intended. “Yeah, of course. I mean, obviously. But . . . is the mission dangerous? Are you going to have to perform sex duties and–?”

“Anakin. Kit cannot share any further details with us,” Obi-Wan scold-reminds, though Anakin can now sense that his Master is concerned. Obi-Wan turns his attention back upon Fisto, and smiles with warm reassurance. “I am glad for this opportunity to see you off, Kit.”

“Me too,” Anakin says, then turns an accusatory glare upon his Master. “Though, how come neither of you were planning to include me? I couldn’t sense you, Master. And if I hadn’t returned to your sickbed when I did, and interrogated that awful droid, then I may not have even found you on time.”

Obi-Wan lowers his voice as though trying to sooth a hostile assailant: “I needed to have a private word with Kit–”

Anakin intercepts his Master’s defense. “A private word, huh? Is that the only private thing you needed to have?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow fractionally, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Besides, Anakin, the medical droid reported that you were occupied.”

Uninterested in Obi-Wan’s paltry excuses, Anakin turns his accusatory glare upon the scantily-clad Nautolan. “And you! Couldn’t you have changed into that on the freighter instead of schutta-strutting around this port?!”

Amusement flickers over Fisto’s signature and within his eyes. “The droid crew has been programmed to thoroughly shackle me upon boarding. While I am an apt-multitasker, I’m afraid that I cannot undress and redress with my arms, legs and neck bound.” Fisto looks to the cargo freighter, which is flashing its ‘five-minutes-to-launch’ warning. He reaches behind himself, and Anakin only now notices that Fisto is wearing a leather satchel. He rummages within the satchel until he finds something that makes his signature ping with delight.

“Ah, here,” Fisto pulls out the half-empty bottle of Oblivion Gin. “The Council has granted you both the evening free. You have orders to relax, and I am ordering you to . . . indulge,” his grin thins into a cheeky smirk. “Enjoy.” Fisto hands Obi-Wan the bottle. Obi-Wan accepts the gin as though Fisto is giving him a writhing whip-snake.

“Oh, oh . . . really, I cannot accept. This is far too . . . generous,” Obi-Wan almost sounds flustered.

“I insist,” Fisto pushes the bottle at Obi-Wan with oomph, and he begrudgingly accepts. “A shot or two will do you good, my friend. And you,” Fisto’s dark eyes find Anakin’s, flaring with equal parts challenge and warning. “You may need three or four shots.”

“ALL ABOARD!” A mechanical voice blears loudly from the cargo freighter. “WE WILL DEPART IN TWO MINUTES.”

Anakin opens his mouth to say something . . . say thank you? Say goodbye? Say good luck? But it’s suddenly like all of this planet’s air has been sucked away into space, and no words come out.

Anakin feels Fisto’s large, cool hand on his right shoulder, offering a brief squeeze of reassurance. Then he watches as Fisto grants Obi-Wan the same gesture, which Obi-Wan returns.

“My comrades,” Fisto says those two words in a way that makes Anakin’s heart-clench, though he doesn’t know why. “Our physical bodies do not have forever,” Fisto’s gaze sweeps from Obi-Wan’s to Anakin’s and back again. Under the brilliant sunlight Fisto’s blacker-than-black eyes are not black at all. They are a warm honeyed-gold, flecked with blue from the sky. “Time is short, and most of ours is filled with brutality and turmoil . . .” he flashes those too-perfect teeth. Again. “So, go on then, fill as much time as you can with happiness.”

“ALL ABOARD! WE WILL DEPART IN ONE MINUTE.”

“May the Force be with you,” Fisto bids them, then turns on his sandaled heels, tentacles bouncing, and sprints for the freighter.

As Fisto rushes away his toga skirt flares upward and –

By the Force.

Fisto is definitely not wearing any underwear. And his bare ass . . . well, it looks just as holoporn-worthy as the rest of him. The Nautolan probably possesses the two most flawlessly firm green globes in the galaxy. And, really, Anakin expected nothing less.

Several nearby senients squeal in horny delight – like they’ve been flashed by some celebrity heartthrob. An older female Rodian swoons and sways on her feet like she’s about to faint. Fortunately her traveling companion steadies her, though his jaw has nearly dropped to the walkway.

Anakin is surprised to hear himself laughing, and, damn, it actually sounds and feels . . . good. “May the Force be with you, too, Master!” Anakin calls after Fisto, straining his voice over the whirring engine and roaring thrusters.

“May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan barely whispers. Anakin doubts Fisto even heard him, though he’s certain that the Nautolan feels the sentiment.

Anakin and Obi-Wan watch as Fisto’s tentacles disappear up the closing loading ramp. Within three heartbeats the freighter launches into the bright sky, fading away toward the outer rim.

Anakin’s mirth fades along with the freighter. A new concern has wriggled into his brain. “Does Fisto even have his lightsaber? He can’t possibly be keeping it inside that satchel. The first thing the slavers will do is search his belongings.”

Obi-Wan frowns thoughtfully. “He would not be storing it in the satchel, no.”

“Then where . . .”

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My next update with be the final chapter! 🥲

#oblivion gin #obikin fanfiction #obikin #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x anakin #Kit Fisto #kit fisto art #obikit #anakin x obi wan #story preview #send me love readers

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