#obikin bingo

[edgeofn1ght]

all you conceal, let out: ch. 1

After the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, in his grief, takes off on a mission half-cocked to find a lost holocron on Jedha. The next thing he knows, he's waking up injured on a planet he's never seen before, surrounded by calm and an unsettling quiet. Then, after passing out again, he wakes up in a strange home, patched, clean, and safe. And his savior is someone he loved who he didn't think he'd ever see again. Will he be able to get back to his own universe, and does he even want to?

i finally managed to fill another square on my @obikin-events bingo card well after the event was over 🫡 (i tried my best to finish it before it ended, but oh well)

alternate universe travel • obikin • 5.1k words • read on ao3 instead

Anakin knew his mission wouldn't be easy. He was warned against going, specifically going alone, but he insisted on taking it anyway. He needed to be away from the Temple, from everything that reminded him – 

“You still need time to mourn!” His own padawan had cried out in the hangar as he strode away from her, his responsibilities, and any bit of sanity he was still holding onto. 

Death is a natural part of life, he thought bitterly as he jogged up the Twilight's ramp, followed quickly by Artoo. I guess you forgot that lesson. 

If he had bothered to turn back, he would have seen Ahsoka's deeply troubled countenance, but he wasn't concerned about that. He had a mission to carry out – one that had been important to Obi-Wan. And he would see it through.

But as Anakin slowly lifted his head out of the dirt, he was no longer so sure he could see it through. He didn't even know where he was anymore. His head throbbed as he became aware of the blood rushing through his ears, drowning out all other noise. Not that there was much to hear anyway – no blaster fire, no clankers yelling in their tinny, robotic voices, no shouting clone troopers, no explosions… nothing.

As he became more aware of his being, his whole body ached, hurting so much he wouldn't have been surprised if every single bone in his body was broken. If Obi-Wan were here and could read his thoughts, he would have undoubtedly told him he was being dramatic.

‘Get up, my young padawan, you’re not so old yet.’ He heard his master’s voice so clearly, just as if he was standing right next to him, looking down at his old padawan with a wry grin and his hands on his hips. He frowned – wishing Obi-Wan was here wouldn’t make him appear, no matter how much Anakin wanted it. He turned his head left then right, searching for his ship, for Artoo… for anyone or anything, but he was completely alone. 

Anakin gingerly pushed himself up and made it halfway before his arms gave out and he dropped back into the muck with a disgusting squelch . And that, too, was different. Last he could recall, he had been on Jedha, surrounded by orange dust and sand as far as the eye could see, even inside the old temple ruins. But as he looked around now, there was nothing but vibrant multicolored trees, green grass, and a brilliant blue sky. 

So where the hell was here? 

Anakin really had no chance to think about his location or predicament because, unsurprisingly, he had passed out again. He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he awoke, he was still on the mystery planet and dusk was settling on the land. It was just as quiet as before, but now the silence was punctuated by the sound of night coming to life. 

He always found the night strangely unsettling when wasn't at home. Coruscant’s night never deviated from its day – the ecumenopolis was a constant hum of traffic and pulse of billions of lifeforms. And Tatooine’s night had been… well, when it wasn’t eerily silent, it was a howling sandstorm or some other form of danger such as raiders, Hutt cartels, or baying creatures that could eat you whole. 

He’d forgotten the true sound of silence, the feeling of it. The way it crept into your bones, enveloped your senses, and made you feel uneasy and cold. Not long after the war began, they all became quickly accustomed to being constantly surrounded by dozens, sometimes hundreds of other beings all the time, whether on board a star destroyer or in battle. Then add to that, life on Coruscant, in the Temple, and pair it with his own constant loud thoughts, feelings, and anxieties, and he really couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced a true quiet like this. Had he ever?

Anakin summoned enough energy to roll over with a grunt. His face was covered in muck and dirt, he could feel it in the pull of his skin when he winced. His cloak was wet, but he still used the voluminous sleeves to wipe it away. All his clothes were wet as it turned out – not exactly soaked , but damp enough to be uncomfortable and annoying. He became more aware of every pain in his body – temples throbbing, joints aching, and most inconvenient of all, the sharp stab of pain in his side. It was most likely a fractured or bruised rib… he hoped anyway. 

As he continued to lie supine in the grass, he took stock of the rest of his body, curling and straightening his fingers then rolling his arms across the dirt to test the movement. Next he tried wiggling his toes inside his boots then flexed his calves, and finally pulled up his legs to bend his knees. Nothing seemed broken. He finally pushed himself up until he was in a sitting position, swaying a bit as his vision swam. 

Forgetting about all his physical aches, his gloved hand moved to his belt, searching for his communicator, but it was nowhere to be found. Then it flew to his left hip where his lightsaber usually sat, a comforting weight always at his side, but it wasn’t there either. 

"Shiiiiit," Anakin whispered. He looked at the ground around him, blinking, his eyes straining to see anything at all in the grass in the low light. It could be anywhere. He would find it – he would – but he couldn’t focus right this second. He scrambled to stand but it was too much, too soon and he fell back into the dirt. 

He groaned long and loud into the rapidly darkening night. 

But then, he heard the most beautiful sound to his buzzing ears – the sound of help. Help was on its way in a beaten-up X-34 landspeeder, which sounded like the combustor of the axial compressor needed to be replaced. He’d never been so happy in his life to hear the low rumble of an engine that needed some serious maintenance, or more happy that he had not completely forgotten everything he knew. 

A wave of dizziness and nausea came over him, but he leaned forward and stretched out his arm as the speeder rumbled closer.  “Help?” He could barely muster the single-syllable word. Not that he could be heard over the noise of the engine anyway, but he had to try. 

Then, unfortunately, he blacked out once again.

Anakin slowly came-to, aware of warmth, comfort, and a voice, calm and gentle, like home . He suddenly remembered being lifted, a hand on his cheek, his forehead, the cool night air then – 

Nothing more.

For the third time in less than half a day, Anakin awoke from slumber. Except this one had been much more fitful than the others. He still ached, but at least he was no longer lying face down in mud in wet clothes. Instead, now he was lying on a sofa under a blanket, his head cradled in a soft pillow, and he was clean and comfortable. The thought was concerning, but he'd get to that later.

Golden sunlight filtered in through the room’s shades. It was certainly no longer night, and it seemed rather bright, but he had no idea what time it could possibly be. He squeezed his eyes tightly and tried to remember… He could recall nothing at all of how he got here – on the planet or in this room. He had been on Jedha with Artoo and a couple of troopers from 501st (who showed up at Ahsoka's insistence), combing through an old excavation site. It was the last-known location of an unknown holocron, apparently buried amongst the ruins, and looking for it had felt like searching for a single star in a nebula. 

When the Jedi first learned of its existence (or ‘ potential existence’ rather, as Obi-Wan had insisted), neither he nor Obi-Wan had truly believed in the presence of such a holocron on the planet. Something like that would surely have been recovered long ago! Obi-Wan’s incredulity echoed in Anakin's head.  But t hey were instructed to at least look, as it would have been rather foolish to allow something like that to languish untouched with the potential of falling into anyone’s hands. And if the rumor was true and they did find such a thing, they could study it. Incredulity aside, Obi-Wan wasn't very good at completely hiding his interest (or at least not to Anakin), and he had remarked several times on how he'd love to study it and learn all its secrets. Anakin had adored the way the older man’s eyes lit up just talking about it. He wouldn't have dreamed of ever telling his old master that.

Then he would never get a chance to. Obi-Wan became one with the Force, leaving Anakin behind forever, and he was forced to go on, to live the rest of his life without his best friend and master. It had been three months, and the wound was as raw and as fresh as the day Obi-Wan was taken from him. He couldn't find peace no matter what he did or who he talked to. They weren't Obi-Wan. 

Master Kenobi’s loss was felt keenly by all the Jedi, but Anakin was sure he didn’t mean as much to them as he did to him. His master was gone and Anakin would never have peace again. 

So Anakin had gone to Jedha on a half-cocked mission to find the holocron, because Obi-Wan had wanted to find it, and Obi-Wan wanted to study it, and that was a last wish Anakin could honor even though every fiber of his being cried out for the loss of the man he loved. 

Perhaps the holocron held secrets to eternal life. Perhaps there was a way to see or speak to him again. Feeling delirious with the prospect, Anakin had run headlong into the temple ruins built inside a cave mouth of a large plateau, feeling as if he was getting close. The pull of the Force was strong, like a nexus of power. He remembered a thrumming and buzzing in his head then nothing at all after that. 

And now he was in some house he didn't know, on a planet he didn't recognize. 

He carefully stretched out with his senses and found that all was calm. He reached further looking for someone, anything , but didn’t get much beyond the general course of life on the planet. Then suddenly, on the edge of his consciousness, a single life form appeared, close… It was inside the house with him.  Anakin should be on high alert, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be. Perhaps he would come back to the why later. Wherever he was, he felt safe and not in any danger. The life form felt calm, relaxed, and slightly amused. Then suddenly he heard a low humming, but not like the humming of the Force, but a living being softly humming a tune. It wasn’t in the room with him but it was close. Then it stopped. 

"Ah, you're awake."

Anakin whipped his head in the direction of the voice. THAT VOICE. A voice he knew better than anyone else's. A voice he had heard most every day since he was nine years old, a voice he'd grown to love more than anyone else's. He twisted around to get a better look, hissing when his side and back protested, clearly still in no shape to move so quickly. 

“Take it easy!” The voice warned. 

He watched in disbelief as the source of the voice set a tray down on the small table in front of the sofa. As he took in the man before him, his chest constricted and tightened and his breathing shallowed. He stood on the precipice of a panic attack with no way to ward it off. Because here was Obi-Wan Kenobi in the flesh, standing in front of him, whole and alive . 

He was older than Anakin knew him to be at the time of his death – by five years or so, maybe more. His hair was longer, not quite as long as it was right before the start of the war, but long enough so the ends curled around his ears and sat on the collar of his shirt. There were more strands of grey threaded throughout his hair and at his temples, more lines etched into his face, particularly around the eyes. His skin had taken on more of a golden hue than Anakin had ever seen – like he spent most of his time outside – which also meant more, darker freckles dotting his forehead, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose. 

He was wearing a light colored work shirt with the buttons undone to mid-breastbone and the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His trousers were the color of rust and he wore tall, brown boots. The clothes hugged his strong figure as if they were tailor-made specifically for him. Anakin couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Obi-Wan in anything but his loose, cream-colored tunics, robes or under blacks and armor.

He looked like a man untouched by war, healthy and content. Anakin had forgotten that once Obi-Wan did look like that, but it was long ago. He stared, slack-jawed, as he thought of Obi-Wan’s pale face and lifeless, clear blue eyes as he held him in death. This was Obi-Wan as he could have been – should have been. Anakin's heart clenched in his chest. 

"I brought you some breakfast," the man finally added, still hesitant and wary of what Anakin would do next.  

Feeling panicked at the strange normality of it all, Anakin attempted to fully sit up so he could defend himself if needed, but he was still in quite a bit of pain. He grabbed his side and winced as the aching muscles in his core contracted. Then his fingers came in contact with a large bandage stuck to his left side. 

"Careful now!" Obi-Wan rushed over to grab Anakin's arm and steady him. The touch was like a brand in his skin. He ripped his arm away and stood quickly, hitting his shin on the small table as he stumbled away from the strange Obi-Wan. He blindly reached again for where a lightsaber should be at his hip, only to find it still wasn't there. 

Instead, Anakin brandished the knife he'd grabbed off the tray in his haste to distance himself from the imposter. "What kind of trick is this? Who are you?"

Not-Obi-Wan put his hands up in a half-hearted surrender. "I'm not really thrilled about being threatened in my own home. Even if it is with a dull butter knife. I can assure you, I am unarmed."

"Obi-Wan… what… what are you doing here?"

Confusion colored the man's features, but it was there and gone just as quickly. "It's just Ben,” he said, slowly putting his hands down. 

Anakin's eye brows pinched as he frowned, “Ben? I– nevermind!” He thrust the knife out in warning and Ben's hands flew back up. "Where am I? How are you here??"

"Well this is MY house, and you're a guest in it, though I have half a mind to throw you out now for threatening me."

This ‘Ben’ was so much like his Obi-Wan, it took his breath away. The way he talked, even if the accent was slightly less of the clipped Coruscanti, and more of a slight brogue, then right down to the casualness with which he handled Anakin's threat… But behind the light-hearted jest, there was a definite wariness, a bit of fear for this complete stranger in his home. Because Ben clearly didn't know him. Anakin meant nothing to him. This wasn't his Obi-Wan. 

Anakin blinked as he tried to remember anything before he woke up, trying to make sense of this situation. Maybe he was actually lying in a cot in a tent in the middle of a dusty desert on Jedha. Or perhaps on a moderately comfy bed in the Halls of Healing back inside the Jedi Temple. Or maybe he was floating inside a bacta tank – injured, knocked out, and healing. Yes, that was it. He was asleep and this was a dream, and in his great grief, he'd conjured up this older Obi-Wan. An Obi-Wan who was not only alive, but content, happy, and healthy. Of course he would – that's what Anakin wanted for his friend and the man he loved. He had created a life that Obi-Wan didn't get to live.

Tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes. He squeezed them shut tightly and willed himself to wake up. 

"You seem to be very hurt," the voice spoke again, and Anakin opened his eyes. "Why don't you eat something then go lie down?"

"Maybe I am hurt, but this isn't real, you're not real," he said resolutely. "I am hurt, yes. But I'm at home, in the Temple." Maybe if he said it forcefully enough and without any doubt he would make it so. 

Not-Obi-Wan stepped towards him and Anakin stepped back. 

"I have no intention of hurting you, I think you need to lie down before you hurt yourself," Ben stepped towards him again, one hand extended, palm up as if he was trying to settle a wild nexu.  

“You know that I could hurt YOU,” Anakin said, his voice wavering. The knife in his hand trembled. 

“You won’t though.”

Their eyes fixed on each other as Ben stepped closer. Anakin didn't know whether he wanted to fight or flee, but he felt immobilized so he did neither. 

Before he knew what was happening, Ben lunged forward and wrapped his right hand around Anakin’s wrist, gripping it tightly, forcing him to drop the knife, then another arm came around Anakin’s neck and squeezed. 

“Sleep,” was the last word Anakin heard before he did just that.

Anakin dreamt of Obi-Wan. 

But not the Obi-Wan he had known since he was nine years old. It was an Obi-Wan he'd known for maybe nine minutes.  

In his dream, this Obi-Wan looked exactly like his Obi-Wan, he dressed differently but otherwise moved and talked like him. His gestures, jokes, and smiles were the same, even down to the lingering sadness behind his eyes that Anakin had always noticed when Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t looking. But in his dream, he was still on this other planet, and not Coruscant, and Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi, but a farmer. 

Anakin was inside a small house which sat in the middle of several acres of land covered in trees and lush fields. Directly behind the home was a large garden where the older Obi-Wan currently stood amongst many kinds of plants, small and large. He was naked to the waist, and the sinking sun's rays reflected off his sweat-shiny skin, making it glisten. Ben was a bit thicker than Anakin remembered ever seeing Obi-Wan, but he was still strong and lithe. The muscles in his back and arms flexed as he dug into the earth and bent down to plant new seeds. Obi-Wan finally stood and turned, wiping sweat from his brow with a bit of cloth he pulled from his back pocket. 

“Anakin,” he said with the loveliest smile Anakin had ever seen. 

This Obi-Wan loved him. Anakin knew it somehow. 

Anakin’s eyes flew open, he was sweating and his breathing labored. He sat up quickly, blankets pooling at his waist, and looked around. Daylight was fading, but it was enough to illuminate the room and he could see it was homey and cozy. He was now in a small bedroom he didn’t recognize in a very comfy bed. Far more comfortable than anything he'd grown used to in battlefield tents and aboard Venator destroyers. He looked to his right, wondering if he’d find Ben there, since this was surely his room, but when he found it empty, he exhaled, strangely relieved. 

The bed was a modest size, easily large enough for two, but not so big that two people would never meet in the night. A dresser sat pushed up against the wall opposite with a small mirror resting on top. From where he sat, Anakin could see there were some trinkets and other items there as well, but he couldn’t make out what they were. A large chair sat by the window with a blanket haphazardly thrown over and a discarded datapad in the seat. On the small bedside table next to his side of the bed, there was a lamp, and surprisingly, his communicator and his lightsaber. 

Anakin pushed away the covers and swung his legs over the side. He picked up his lightsaber to feel the familiar and comforting heft. Ben had undoubtedly found it, but it was a bit surprising that he had actually returned it to him. Maybe he didn't know what it was, didn't know what Anakin could do with it. Well, at least he'd be spared the 'your lightsaber is your life' lecture, though Anakin would have given up his lightsaber forever just to hear it again. 

He was still wearing only a pair of sleep pants and he was glad to find that the glove over his mechno-arm was still in place. He wiggled his toes then slid off the bed and stepped onto soft, cool carpet and stretched away some of the stiffness. It felt like he had been asleep for days. At the window, he pulled back the curtain slightly to peer outside. The sun was setting in the distance behind the foothills, painting the sky in soft pinks, oranges, and purples. The landscape was bathed in a soft yellow, but none of that beauty compared to the man standing in the middle of the large vegetable garden. 

Just like in his dream.

His heart rate picked up again. 

Was he even awake now? Or was all of this a dream? 

Suddenly small flashes of what he thought were recent memories returned to him – a pair of strong arms wrapping around his back and under his knees, the feel of a warm, wet cloth being dragged across his face gently, humming in another room, then Anakin threatening to stab this beautiful man with a butter knife. He flushed, hoping against hope that that was also only from his dream. 

He dropped the curtain and made his way through the house and out onto the back porch. Ben was practically glowing in the evening sun. It only took a second for him to look up and smile. 

“Hello there.” Ben thrust his shovel into the dirt, then rested his elbow on the handle. Anakin’s mouth suddenly became very dry. “Oh, I’ve hidden all the butter knives,” he added with a slight twist to his mouth. Anakin's face fell – so that one was true. “However, that thing I put on the bedside table seems like it could do much more damage than a knife.” Ben huffed as he pulled a cloth out of his back pocket and wiped his face. 

“That 'thing'??” Anakin scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. His still-bare chest, he was reminded. Maybe from that distance Ben couldn’t tell that he was blushing. “That thing, Ben, is my lightsaber. MY LIFE. You are… were always so fond of reminding me.” Ben chuckled but said nothing else. It felt so odd for him to say nothing at all about it. 

They stood and stared at each other for a few moments. Anakin allowed the stillness and quiet of the evening to envelope him once more. Was this really his current reality? Or was it possible that his mind had actually created some world so tangible, so intricate and detailed? An Obi-Wan who was both Obi-Wan and not simultaneously, and who had no clue who Anakin was.

Ben pulled his shovel from the ground and walked towards the house. He stopped below the porch and stared up at Anakin. “You must be hungry, would you like latemeal?”

As if right on cue, his stomach growled. “Yes, okay.”

“Let me get cleaned up and I will get it for you,” Ben said with a nod and passed by Anakin without a second look. 

Anakin sat at the small table in the kitchen and watched as Ben deftly moved around the space preparing the meal. It was strange how everything seemed so familiar, from the way he stood and held himself, to the way he drank from his own mug, even down to how quiet and focused he was on the task. It was strange to know and love the man so well, but to not know him at all. Because this still wasn't his Obi-Wan. No matter what his dream told him. No matter what he wanted to believe and be real. But he was so like him, it made his heart ache. He knew a mind consumed with grief could create fantastical things, believe the unbelievable, especially if it brought back loved ones. He'd also heard stories of beings traveling through time and space, but that’s all they were supposed to be, stories – ‘wistie stories' his mom told him before bed or outlandish yarns spun by his fellow padawans as they shirked their duties.

But if that was true, and he'd been flung into another time and universe… Where was Anakin Skywalker here? And why wasn't he with Obi-Wan Kenobi?

He snapped out of his reverie when Ben set some food down in front of him then took his own place in the chair across the table. It was intimate, but Anakin couldn’t think about it too much because he was starving and the food smelled amazing. It was a needed distraction. 

Between sips from his mug of tea, Ben finally spoke up. "I didn't see a ship. Or a speeder, for that matter."

"Uh well, I didn't have one," Anakin said as he pushed the food around on his plate. "At least not here." He shoved a large chunk of fried tuber in his mouth. 

Ben narrowed his eyes, "I'm not exactly close to the nearest town, are you saying you walked?" 

“No,” Anakin said around a mouthful of food. "I just ended up out there.”

Ben frowned, "How do you mean ‘ended up’?” 

"Just that. I was on Jedha then I woke up in a mud puddle… I think."

Ben took another sip of his tea. "You've still not given me your name. What do I call you?"

Anakin felt like sulking, "You really don't know it." It wasn’t a question.

"Well, I… you seem to talk a lot in your sleep, and I thought maybe you'd mention it, but strangely, I only heard my own name over and over.” He looked down then cleared his throat. “But I can't really understand how you know my given name.” He stroked his beard.

Anakin felt as confused as Ben – or actually Obi-Wan. But he did know he didn’t like the way that sounded. He couldn’t remember any part of his dreams except for whatever vision that he had of Ben in the field before he saw him out there. He was now afraid of anything he might have said. 

He toyed briefly with giving a fake name, but then decided against it at the last minute. This was Obi-Wan… some Obi-Wan, and with him he was always Anakin. “It’s Anakin.” 

"Anakin," Ben repeated softly. 

He ducked his head and continued eating, hoping that the older man would find something else to stare at for a little while. But he could feel his eyes still on him. 

After a prolonged silence, Anakin spoke up again. "I'm not from here, wherever here is." Ben stared at him but kept silent so Anakin would continue. "I'm from Coruscant. Well, that's where I live anyway… In the Jedi Temple."

Ben’s eyebrows raised briefly then he looked down into his mug. “You’re a ways from Coruscant.”  

Well now they were getting somewhere, and at least Coruscant existed in this universe. "And where is here?"

"Stewjon," Ben said as he sat back in his chair.

Of course. Of course! It was so obvious now – he’d been sent to Obi-Wan’s birth planet for some reason. Maybe it would be a starting point for figuring out the how and why. 

"And what of the war?" 

"What war?"

“What war?” Anakin huffed, "THE war, Ben, the war against the Separatists!?"

Ben shook his head in response. "I'm afraid I don't know it. I try to keep up with news from the Core Worlds as much as possible, but I've never heard of a war or the Separatists. Though, from the name alone, I can possibly figure out their platform.” 

Anakin leaned forward, settling his elbows on the table. "When I say I'm not from here, I mean, not from HERE – this universe." It was out there – now it was up to Ben to decide what to do with it. Ben's brow dipped slightly, but he remained silent. "I am a Jedi, a general in the Grand Army of the Republic, I was your…" He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Did he even know the Jedi? He certainly wasn't his master here. "I was on a mission on Jedha, then… then, I woke up here."

Ben sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't believe him. Anakin could tell even though he said nothing. 

He huffed again and ran a hand through his hair. "I want to get back, I need to get back. I don't belong here." Even if he could be at Obi-Wan’s side again, where he did belong. 

Ben stroked his beard in thought. "Anakin, what you're saying… it's impossible. You can't hop to another universe. You can't travel through time or to another reality."

Anakin stood quickly, nearly upsetting the chair. "But I did it! And I’m here talking to you! An Obi-Wan who… who doesn't know or care anything about me!"

"Anakin, come now, that's not–" Ben started but Anakin wasn’t staying to listen. 

He left the kitchen quickly and headed back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself down into the bed, wanting to scream into the pillow. 

If he couldn’t even remember how he got here in the first place, how in the hell could he find a way back? And Ben clearly wasn’t going to help him. Anakin had no holocron here or a way to get back to Jedha to check. He couldn’t even get back to Coruscant, to the Temple. Maybe others like Mace and Yoda or Plo Koon existed here, even if he didn’t. Maybe they would know and could help him.

Anakin closed his eyes to keep the tears from slipping free, but they fell anyway, wetting the soft pillow underneath his head.

[soldieronbarnes]

Kinktober #1 -- Humiliation, hair pulling

Joining kinktober super late, but if you have any prompts, just drop them in my ask box!!

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is so full of derision that Anakin squirms, gasping, tears welling up in his eyes. His Master so rarely resorts to contempt, hates having to do so, he knows, and he knows he deserves the scorn, he does, after defying his Master so openly, so carelessly, in front of a Galactic senator no less.

Usually, his Master is so, so gentle and understanding, unless Anakin pushes him too far, and he did – he pushed him too far, knowingly, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows that it’s a punishment as well a a reward, the way his Padawan braid if wrapped tightly in Obi-Wan’s fist like it’s a leash, the way red blooms around the shape of his Master’s hand on his bottom and makes everything more sensitive, the way the pace of his cock against Anakin’s prostate is just this side of too much too fast, pushing the air out of his lungs and making his spine bend and melt into the movement. 

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan repeats disdainfully. “You think you can defy me? You think you are ready to be a Knight?” 

He tugs harshly at the braid, and Anakin whines. “Master – Master, I’m –”

“Look at you,” Obi-Wan snarls. “You’re so needy, so desperate for a good fuck. You can’t go three days without panting for it like a dog. You go any longer without anyone fucking your brains out and you turn stupid, unable to formulate any clearly thought out plan, as you demonstrated today. And you want to be a Knight?”

Anakin keens. He needs Obi-Wan to fuck him harder, to evaporate any coherent thought. “Master, Master, please –”

Cruelly, Obi-Wan slows his thrusts until they are shallow, the movement barely noticeable. “A Knight is self-sufficient. A Knight is selfless, serving the people of the Republic. A Knight doesn’t want or need anything.” 

He leans down, plastering himself to Anakin, chest to chest, and whispers in his ear. Anakin grasps the opportunity to wrap his legs around him and kiss him, panting against his lips when Obi-Wan pulls back. 

“A Knight is separated from his Master, because he can be trusted to act on his own. Do you think you can be trusted to be on your own, away from me for months and months? You can’t,” he says. “Look at how much you need direction, how much you need a cock in you. You get stupid when someone doesn’t fuck you right for a few days. What are you going to do when you are apart from me, hm? Are you going to doom entire civilisations because you are horny and stupid? Are you going to just fuck anyone to keep you in check? Are you going to be happy hanging off the first thick cock you find?”

“I wouldn’t,” he cries, hot tears running down his cheeks. “I wouldn’t, Master!”

“Yes, you would. You’re so hungry for it. You’d let anyone fuck you, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t”, Anakin protests.

“My pretty little liar,” Obi-Wan croons. “You think you can think straight without getting fucked? How will you complete missions on your own, then? Tell me.”

“I’d make a replica of your cock and fuck myself with it,” Anakin gasps, because there’s no line in the sand he hasn’t relished in stepping over. It’s the perfect solution, too; he’d get to go on his own missions without missing anything. 

To his surprise, Obi-Wan just laughs. “You think all you need is the shape of my cock, and that will save you?” he asks. He pulls out, wrestles Anakin on his belly before he can protest, and lets the head of his cock kiss Anakin’s hole. “Go on, then. If you think you don’t need me, just my cock – prove it. Get yourself off.”

And Anakin – well, he tries. The instructions are simple enough, and the position he’s in allows for a decent range of movement. He starts slow and sinuous, and ends up with a quick and brutal pace, and it should be enough – enough to entice Obi-Wan to move, to touch him in any way, enough to get off – but it isn’t, and soon enough he’s sobbing with need. He can’t rock back onto Obi-Wan’s cock at a satisfying angle, not quickly enough, not when he’s trying to strip his cock with his hand, and he’s so, so, close, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not enough. 

“Let me ride you,” he begs. 

His Master snorts. “You think that’ll help you?” he asks, but he lies down on his back, pulling Anakin on top of him, surprisingly indulgent. “There you go. Try your best.”

The taunting challenge in his voice makes Anakin set a quick, rough pace, because he can do this, he can  – except Obi-Wan refuses to touch him, crosses his hands behind his back and allows Anakin to use him, but won’t even put his hands on him; won’t touch his cock, won’t grip his hips in those wonderful broad hands of his that can span so much of Anakin’s waist, won’t tease his nipples of pull his hair like he usually does and it’s – it’s torture, is what it is. Anakin rides him until his thighs begin to tremble uncontrollably, until tears are rolling down his face and the gasping breaths he takes turn into shaking sobs. 

He’s so, so close, still, but he cannot fall over the edge, no matter what he does.

“Master,” he begs, “Master, please, I want to come –”

“And why,” Obi-Wan asks, “do you think you always deserve to get what you want?”

A desperate whine escapes him. “Please, I promise I’ll be better, I’ll be good –”

“Will you? Will you be good so you can be a Knight? So you can be trusted, away from me?”

“No,” Anakin gasps. “I’ll be good for you, I will, but please don’t send me away, I need you, I need you –”

And finally, finally, that’s the right answer. Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s hands are on his hips, the grip tight and bruising, holding Anakin still as his hips piston up into the scorching heat of his hole, the pace fast and relentless and unforgiving and finally, finally enough. Anakin comes with a silent scream, spine bowed and fingernails raking visible trails down the fair skin of Obi-Wan’s chest. He thinks he blacks out for a second, and when he comes to, he’s half collapsed on his Master’s chest, his cock still moving in and out of him at a brutal pace, making him shudder with the aftershocks of pleasure. 

“Give it to me,” he whines, speech slurred with how good it feels. “Master, come inside me, mark me, please, give it to me, show everyone I’m yours!”

Obi-Wan curses under his breath, and before Anakin can even parse his words, he’s dumped unceremoniously onto his back, and he could cry at the sudden emptiness. 

“I’ll mark you, for everyone to see,” Obi-Wan promises, his voice dark and heated, kneeling over Anakin and stripping his cock quickly, wildly, and Anakin keens when he realizes what’s about to happen. 

“Yes, yes Master, please –” He barely has time to open his mouth before the first thick, hot stripes of come coat his face and tongue, his neck and chest and –

“Look at this,” Obi-Wan says, tugging at his Padawan braid. That, too, is covered in white strands of his Master’s come. Anakin whimpers when he sees it, and despite himself, he feels his cock twitch with interest. “Do you know what that means?”

“I’m yours,” Anakin whispers, his voice hoarse. “It means I’m yours.”

Finally, finally, Obi-Wan softens. “Good boy,” he praises, and leans down to kiss him, and everything else fades away. 

[tomicaleto]

Preview of today's bingo fill :)

[anakinsthot]

New werewolf AU out for Halloween! 0% horror 100% cute.

This fills my free space for the obikin bingo :) which I am GOING TO GET A BINGO ON :) >:)

[rexismycopilot]

Words: 1.6k

Tags: Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Caning, Hurt No Comfort, Suitless Darth Vader, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Anakin Skywalker, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, The Author Regrets Everything, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mildly Dubious Consent

Summary: The Sith lord Obi-Wan finds evidence of a plot against him and the Empire. His apprentice, Lord Vader, is used to demonstrate his power over his apprentice and the control he truly holds in the Empire.

For @obikin-events bingo: Sith AU

[vondasvagaries]

Star Wars names are so strange that it took me a little too long to realize that "Obikin Bingo" wasn't one🤣🤣🤣

[moonlightatnoon]

Prompt: Mob/Gangster AU

Summary:

“We will never agree on this,” said Obi-Wan watching the stiff curve of Anakin’s back. He cut a striking figure, even when cradled in the dark he still called to Obi-Wan. It was hard to not look, to resist the ever tightening grip of the pull Anakin exercised on him.

“I don’t need you to agree with me, Obi-Wan. I just need you to stop fighting me.”

Mob boss Anakin Skywalker is one of the youngest gang leaders to rise to power in recent history. DCI Obi-Wan Kenobi is tasked with bringing this rising threat to justice. The only problem is Obi-Wan and Anakin have history, and the Detective in question finds himself walking on a tightrope of morality. After all the heart wants what it wants.

@obikin-events

[singmanyfaces]

“The Dance”

Modern AU; Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker

Summary: Burlesque performer Anakin Skywalker has some fun with an audience member during a routine one night, and sparks a mutual interest.  

@obikin-events​ Written for the Bingo prompt “Burlesque AU.”  

Burlesque AU, Meet Cute

1882 words, completed

My first bingo!

[prowlingthunder]

PTs Bingo Cards

Answering asks has led to the realization that I have Not Yet Posted all my bingo cards... Meep. Without further adieu, cards: The Bad Things Happen Bingo is hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​ The Obikin Bingo is hosted by @obikin-events

The Star Wars Rarepair Bingo is hosted by @starwarsrarepairbingo​

The rest are hosted by @clonefandomevents -- except the Old Republic Star Wars Bingo, which is mine. Need a card? Lets see what we can do for you!

Squares: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes: (Back) In Black

Squares:  Comfort from a nightmare, Soft, and Stolen moments: the wolf that wins is the one you fed

Squares: Jedi AU, Role Reversal: 

[edgeofn1ght]

The Melody Wakes the Heart

It's practically love at first sight when Obi-Wan passes a new busker working the alley he passes through every day going to and from work.

The idea of 'busker Anakin' just kinda got in my head and wouldn't let go, so out popped this thing. Thankfully it also worked to fill another spot on my @obikin-events​ bingo card: crush

—

getting together • obikin • 3.5k words • read on ao3 instead

It was incredibly late. Too late for him to finally be making his way home. He should have left work long ago. And it was certainly too late to hear music winding its way down the alley and around the building. He looked at his watch. It was nearly 11pm.

As he picked up his pace, the clicking of his boot heels against the cobblestones fell into perfect syncopation with the beat of the song.

When he turned the corner, Obi-Wan halted his homeward march. At the end of the alley stood a tall figure dressed in black facing away towards the river. He was singing and strumming his acoustic guitar for an audience of none. Though now it was technically an audience of one.

The man was pouring his heart and soul into a song about love and loss. Not recognizing the tune, Obi-Wan wondered if he wrote it. And was it autobiographical or merely a comment on relationships?

For himself, he didn't care to believe in such things any longer. It was easier to protect your heart by not falling in love.

A giggling couple staggered by and tossed a few coins into a soft guitar case which lay open at the man's feet.

"Ta!" He threw out the reply mid-chorus.

It was long enough to snap Obi-Wan out of his reverie. He dipped into his pocket to scrounge for some change of his own as he decided to continue on. He tossed them in as he passed the man, never stopping, never making eye contact.

"Evening," the guitarist said, now strumming softly. Obi-Wan waved quickly over his shoulder and kept walking.

It was too late. He needed to get home, and he didn't want to start something he couldn't finish.

—-

The next day Obi-Wan managed to get away from work at a most reasonable hour. The man was unfortunately not there.

—--

The following evening was another bloody late night. Absolutely no one should sit at a computer for 10, 12 hours a day, staring at spreadsheets well after the sun went down. His stomach growled, his tea had gone cold and most everyone else had left long ago.

As he left the train station and began his slog home, he heard the guitar again. Was it possible the man only worked late nights?

Obi-Wan slowed his stroll as he got closer. The man was singing softly tonight, something gentle like a lullaby – a surprising change from two nights before.

As he came to the end of the alley, he stopped and leaned against the brick wall to listen. The boy – for he was younger than Obi-Wan previously assumed – was talented, that was for sure.

After a few bars, he turned to look at Obi-Wan and smiled. And what a beautiful smile it was.

"Evening," came the boy's standard greeting.

"Good evening," Obi-Wan replied.

He turned his whole body to look at Obi-Wan as he played, watching him while he finished his song. Even in the low light he could tell he was a handsome sort with dark eyes, full lips, and untamed, dark curls.

To avoid staring, Obi-Wan paid more attention to the way the man's long fingers slid up, down, and across the fretboard with ease. And also how the fingers of his right hand deftly plucked the strings, never missing the mark. Even though he was wearing a glove.

"I don't usually get an audience," he finally added. Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up to the man's face at the sound of his soft voice. "People pass quickly, always in a hurry."

"A shame then," Obi-Wan replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you're new here. Give them some time to get used to you."

The man smiled to himself as he looked down at his guitar. "I wasn't doing so well on the lower levels. I had to find a new place."

If one was to believe the politicians and the 'elite' of the city's glitzy upper levels, Coruscant's lower levels housed the 'worst of the worst' – the poor, the drug dealers and users, and all types of other unsavories that needed to be kept below the surface.  

Well, the income inequality was certainly real. And would explain why this boy was here now where he was more likely to earn a fair amount on his talent from upper Coruscant's denizens and travelers.

He looked down into the open guitar case – he didn't seem to be doing too well here tonight though. Obi-Wan frowned.

When he looked back up, the boy was watching him. It was hard to tell the color of his eyes under the yellowing street lamps, but they pierced him through. Obi-Wan swallowed as he finally stopped playing.

Maybe it was unfair to call him a boy. Closer now and with more time to take in his face, Obi-Wan would put his age somewhere in the mid-20s.

He pulled the guitar up and over his head and laid it down gently in the case. Then he reached into his pocket and brought out a thin silver tin and a lighter.

"Are you already finished?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly. He'd lost track of time, lost track of what he was even doing still standing here. Did he really intend to stay and listen longer?

The man chuckled low under his breath as he put a cigarette between his red lips then flicked the lighter. "For now," he said, as he carefully cupped the flame and lit his cigarette. "Care to join me?" They never lost eye contact as he removed the cigarette and blew the smoke into the air.

He knew he shouldn't but he was tempted. He wanted to.

"Thank you, but I really can't," Obi-Wan said as he pushed himself off the wall. He looked at his watch. "It's later than I thought. I best be going." He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Obi-Wan dug into his pocket once more and pulled out a few bills. Instead of throwing them into the case like usual, he reached out and handed them to the man instead. He took them, wrapping his cold fingers around Obi-Wan’s briefly.

"Thank you," he nodded as he removed the cigarette once more.

Obi-Wan smiled then turned to leave. But he could feel himself hesitating just for a moment. If he didn't leave now, he might not leave at all.

"It's Anakin," the boy called after him. Obi-Wan stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. "My name."

Oh. "Obi-Wan," he replied with a nod.

The boy – Anakin – grinned and put the cigarette back in his mouth and inhaled deeply.

—-

Weeks passed and Obi-Wan was losing track of how much money he'd given Anakin, and with his schedule more normalized, he didn't even see him every day. He guessed whatever Anakin was busking for, Obi-Wan was going to fund it single-handedly.

However, he could count on one hand the number of short conversations they had. The words they exchanged had been few – Obi-Wan didn't want to interrupt the man at work.

When he didn't see Anakin, he couldn't stop thinking about him. Which probably wasn't good. He knew nothing at all about him.

On this morning, Obi-Wan kept his head down, watching his feet as he quickly made his way to his train station. He pulled the lapels of his coat closed around his throat as a stiff gust of wind blew down the walk. He was in a hurry but no one else seemed to be.

As he came to Anakin's alley, he looked up and was surprised to find him there, crouched down as he was packing up. It suddenly struck Obi-Wan that he'd never once seen him in the daylight.

"Anakin!"

He stood and turned quickly, surprised at hearing his name being called. "Obi-Wan!"

His eyes were blue.

His eyes are blue.  

"What are –"

"I was just –"

They began at the same time then chuckled nervously.

"Please, you go," Obi-Wan gestured.

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, which shone a dark honey blond in the morning light. He looked very tired and careworn.

"I was just leaving. I'm surprised to see you."

Obi-Wan smiled, "I'm even more surprised. I come by this way every day, but you're only here when I'm off work very late."

"Huh, yeah," Anakin said, looking down and scuffing the toe of his boot against the stones. Obi-Wan watched him as he knelt again to re-situate his guitar in the case. From where he stood, there didn't seem to be much money in there.

He couldn't help himself from getting involved. "Do alright last night and this morning?"

Anakin shrugged as he picked up the case and slung it over one shoulder and across his back. The coins clinked loudly together as they slid to the bottom of the bag. He seemed quiet and off in his own world.

"Are you alright this morning?"

Anakin stopped fidgeting long enough to stare at Obi-Wan, then shrugged again. "Just tired."

He had to go to work. He was going to be very late. He probably would get some kind of reprimand. But he found he didn't really care too much.

"Would you like to go get some coffee?"

Anakin hesitated but Obi-Wan could see him thinking it over.

"My treat," he finally added. Why don't you just ask him on a date, Obi-Wan?

Anakin exhaled, "Okay then."

They walked a few blocks to the coffeeshop Obi-Wan generally visited on his way to the station. He hadn't this morning because he was in a hurry. Interesting now how he had all the time in the world.

The shop was warm and smelled strongly of coffee and some blend of vanilla and hazelnut. They grabbed some menus and made their way to a small table in the corner near the front window. Anakin placed his guitar upright in the corner and sat with his back to the wall. Obi-Wan took his place directly across, as naturally as if they'd done this dozens of times.

"Order whatever you'd like," he said as a waiter made their way to the table for the drink order. "That goes for food, too," he added when the waiter left.

Anakin looked around the shop, taking it all in like he'd never been in before. It seemed hard to believe considering he was always so close by. It gave Obi-Wan a better opportunity to study his face in the daylight.

His eyes were darker blue now than they'd been outside, and a thin scar bisected his right eyebrow, passing the corner of his right eye and ending on his cheek. It did nothing at all to diminish his beauty, quite the opposite. He also had two smaller pale scars on his left jaw. Obi-Wan wondered what he'd been through. His face was also dotted with small moles and freckles, and his lips were full and dark pink.

He was unfairly pretty.

Obi-Wan felt quite out of his element all of the sudden. He would now put his age around 25. Obi-Wan never felt his age, but suddenly he was feeling every single one of his 41 years.

He cleared his throat and looked down to study the menu.

"I've never been here before," Anakin finally said. Obi-Wan was beginning to think he'd be the only one talking this morning.

He looked up and smiled, "The coffee is excellent, the morning buns spectacular."

The corner of Anakin’s mouth turned up in a smirk, "Spectacular, huh?"

"Well if you like sweet buns, I suppose." He was generally a bit more eloquent than this.

He was saved by the return of their waiter with their coffee. They both ordered some food, and Obi-Wan was pleased that Anakin had taken him up on his offer, ordering eggs, bacon, toast, hashbrowns, and even boldly ordering some sweet buns for the two of them.

Then they were alone again.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask Anakin now that he had his undivided attention, but none of them seemed right.

"You don't have to go to work?" Anakin asked, taking a sip of his latte, inhaling the rich aroma of the espresso and hazelnut flavor.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, snapped it shut, then took out his phone. "I should probably tell them I won't be in, at least not until later." He'd been so taken with Anakin that he even forgot about work. Get yourself together, Obi-Wan.

"You didn't really seem the type," he said.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, "The type? What type is that?"

"You know, the rule abider, the goody two-shoes, the class pet," Anakin smiled and took another sip of his coffee.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. Maybe once upon a time. Sure, he appreciated order, but he'd been known to bend a rule here and there. But always to someone's surprise. He guessed he did have a reputation. Maybe Anakin was actually good at reading him. Which was scary.

"Well you seem the complete opposite, if I'm honest," Obi-Wan retorted.

Anakin chuckled, "That's fair. If I'm honest."

"What were you doing out there this morning?" Obi-Wan asked, changing the subject quickly. He was sorry to see Anakin's face fall rapidly.

"Change of audience, hoping to catch people on the way to work." He shifted in his seat. "Late at night, believe it or not, isn't the greatest time to work the alley."

This was unsurprising news. Obi-Wan rarely saw anyone at night when Anakin was out.

"Can you change your time there?" Though some people obviously did come by, it couldn't have been nearly as many as what might come by during the day on their way to work or school or the shops.

Anakin shook his head, "Not generally, no. I do have other obligations." At this his shoulders slumped. Seemingly under the weight of said obligations.

Just then the waiter returned with their breakfasts. Anakin dug in quickly like he hadn't eaten in some time. The thought hadn't previously occurred to Obi-Wan that maybe he hadn't. He wouldn't say anything about it.

"That song you were singing the first night I saw you…" Obi-Wan began as he buttered his toast, hoping Anakin would remember. "Is it yours?"

Anakin took a bite of his own toast and chewed thoughtfully. "Yes." In truth, he was surprised he did remember. But he didn't seem to be otherwise forthcoming with information.

"Well it was moving."

"Thank you," he replied quietly, then drank more coffee.

Several moments ticked by and Obi-Wan thought the conversation was over. He was desperately trying to come up with another topic. It could have been anything – he knew nothing about the young man! But his brain came up empty.

"I had… well, this woman," he began staring down at his own plate with great interest. "My girlf– no, my fiancée, really, well she ended things suddenly. And…well, my emotions had to go somewhere, I guess."

Oh. Well, he certainly didn't need Obi-Wan chasing after him. Anyway…

"You should make a recording, you just need the right people to hear you." Though he was always the highlight of Obi-Wan’s day, Obi-Wan could do nothing for him to advance his career. He'd miss him if he ever quit busking and left the alleyway.

Anakin scoffed, "I'm just out there trying to make a buck. I have no aspirations. I just need to do something to help pay for my mom's medicines. It's a better second job than working with food or in some shop here in the upper levels where I'd have to deal with difficult people all day."

Of all the reasons Anakin could have had for playing, that was not one that Obi-Wan would have come up with. He just stared at Anakin, a fork full of eggs hovering mid-air.

Anakin finally looked up at him. "Oh, that was probably… too much."

"No! No," Obi-Wan started. "Not at all! I didn't mean to pry, of course. But you're welcome to say whatever you feel comfortable sharing."

Anakin looked around the room, down at his plate then back up at Obi-Wan. "And why do you take such an interest?"

Obi-Wan had to resist the urge to laugh out loud. If Anakin only knew… well he'd probably not still be sitting here, for starters.

What could he say? Anakin was talented, there was no doubt about it. But he was also handsome. And Obi-Wan was interested. But he could settle for being a friend. It seemed like Anakin needed that more than anything right now.

He settled for a half-truth.

"You brighten my commute home."

Anakin looked down and if he wasn't mistaken, he thought he was blushing. Obi-Wan didn't need to know that he was the highlight of Anakin's day. The one person who actually looked and truly saw him.

They passed the next several minutes in silence, finishing up their breakfast and coffee.

"You were right about these buns," Anakin said, stuffing the last bit of cinnamon roll into his mouth.

Obi-Wan smiled gently.

They finished up, the check came, and Obi-Wan paid. They gathered their things and stepped back out into the cold.

"I guess I have no more excuses not to go into work," Obi-Wan said, adjusting his scarf. Though he wished he did.

Anakin squinted against the bright morning light. "I suppose not."

"Go home and rest."

Anakin nodded, "I'll try, but no promises." Obi-Wan smiled and turned to leave.

"Obi-Wan!" He loved it when the younger man said his name. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said, then turned to face the rest of his day.

—-

A week passed without a single glimpse of Anakin. It didn't matter what time Obi-Wan went to or from work, he was not there. Had he changed his mind about the alley? Or about entertaining on the street for mere pennies?

Or had he gotten to know Obi-Wan and didn't like whatever he saw?

Or worse still, had something happened to him or his mother?

Obi-Wan would rather that Anakin suddenly hated him before he could deal with the truth of something terrible befalling either of them.

—--

Obi-Wan disembarked the train at 8pm. The car had been wonderfully warm, and for a while he'd forgotten just how cold it was outside. A fat snowflake landed on the end of his nose, melting instantly. Great. The walk home held so much promise now.

He sighed as he adjusted his coat and scarf and hoisted his bag back up on his shoulder. As much as he wished to see Anakin, he hoped that he would not turn the corner and find him standing in the cold with his guitar.

He was thankfully not there.

Obi-Wan would have never been able to explain the way his heart dropped at the site of the empty sidewalk. Who could understand the foolishness of falling in love with someone over a decade younger, who you merely passed on the street on your way home from work? He didn't even know the man's last name, for force's sake.

"Obi-Wan!!"

His traitorous heart skipped several beats as he stopped and slowly turned.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin waved as he ran towards him, his bagged guitar swinging back and forth across his back.

All Obi-Wan could do was stand there and try not to look like an idiot with his mouth hanging open.

Anakin ran right up to him and stopped two feet short, his gloved hand extended. He was breathing heavily and struggling to catch his breath in the thin winter air.

"Anakin." My darling, he wished to say. "What are you doing here? Please tell me you weren't coming to stand out in the snow and play?"

Anakin laughed, still out of breath. Next to his singing, it was the most beautiful sound. "I was hoping to run into you."

That surprised him. His schedule was the most steady of them both. It'd be quite easy for Anakin to wait for him.

"Well, you've run into me," Obi-Wan smiled and spread his arms wide.

"I was coming to play," Anakin said. "It was stupid, I know, but I was. Because it's what I do. I need the money, but I thought…" here he stopped and began to fiddle with the strap that ran diagonal across his torso. "I knew you would chide me though. I wanted you to."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened slightly. What was that supposed to mean?

"Just to hear and see you again."

Obi-Wan knew his mouth was hanging open but at this point, he didn't care. Was Anakin saying what he thought he was saying?

He took a deep breath. It was as good as any admission. And more than Obi-Wan ever dared to hope for himself.

His face slowly split into a grin. "You're right, I would have… chided you, that is. You'll catch your death out here."

Anakin beamed. "You sound like my mom."

Obi-Wan laughed. He was happy to hear she was okay, too.

He slowly extended his own gloved hand towards Anakin and took a leap. "Come home with me instead."  

Anakin took his hand then interlaced their fingers as they walked away from the train station towards his home.

So much for protecting his heart.

[soldieronbarnes]

Kinktober #3 - edging over the edge

#obikin kinktober fic, <1k When Anakin was younger, when he’d just come to the Temple, he’d thought Obi-Wan was the kindest person in the galaxy. He’d smiled at him a lot, and answered all his questions with a patience Anakin was unused to, and given him all his attention while his Master was busy running errands; back then, running errands had meant annoying the Council repeatedly until they allowed him to toss Obi-Wan aside as his apprentice and take on Anakin as his new Padawan learner, a fact that Anakin as a child had been unaware of – but Obi-Wan certainly hadn’t, based on the heavy thrum always weighing down the force around him at the time, always hastily concealed once Anakin entered a room. He hadn’t known enough about the Force to identify the feeling then. Once he did understand, it had only increased his awe and respect for his newly appointed Master. 

His Master was a deep, endless well of kindness and patience. The kindest in the galaxy.

Fifteen years later, Anakin is willing to amend that statement. 

Oh, his Master is patient indeed. Too patient to be called kind, in this scenario, at least if one deigned to ask Anakin. 

They’d been separated for several weeks, torn apart by battlefields and missions and responsibilities, sent to different ends of the galaxy with limited means of communication; that alone would be enough to drive anyone mad, and Obi-Wan had asked him not to come, not without him. That alone had been torture. And when they’d finally reconvened on Coruscant – well, Anakin had made the grave mistake of mouthing off in front of the Council, and Obi-Wan had summarily decided that, as punishment, he wouldn’t allow Anakin any pleasures of the flesh.

And now, finally, after two weeks of grovelling, he’s in Obi-Wan’s bed at last, hands tied to the headboard, because he cannot be trusted not to touch, apparently, and feet tied spread-eagle to the bedposts, because he’d been squirming too much, trying to buck into the pleasure Obi-Wan’s hands offered, too greedy, too desperate for it. 

So now he can’t move at all, and he’d been in this bed for two hours and he still hasn’t been allowed to come. 

So maybe his Master isn’t kind after all. Just patient. Too patient. 

The ghost of a touch sweeps up his left flank, making Anakin tremble. It’s so, so hard to hold himself still, to not arch into it. He has to bite his lip so hard they’re nearly bloodless, so hard the delicate skin breaks, to avoid any sound escaping him. 

As a reward,the hand moves to pinch and twist his left nipple harshly. Anakin cries out, and this time he cannot keep his spine from bending, cannot help the desperate curve of his body seeking out the touch. His cock, so hard and dark red it’s almost purple, jerks and spills more precome over his twitching abdomen. 

Immediately, the hand retreats.

Anakin wants to weep.

“Please,” he whispers, “please.”

Sat beside him on the bed, Obi-Wan hums contemplatively. He hasn’t even taken off his robes, looking cool and composed and perfectly put together, as a Jedi should, while Anakin falls apart next to him. It’s a special kind of torture. 

“I suppose you have been trying to be good,” Obi-Wan muses idly, stroking his beard. “So maybe you do deserve a reward.”

His fingers slide over Anakin’s stomach, gathering the precome pooled there to slick up his hand before his fist wraps around Anakin’s cock loosely, lazily spreading the moisture. Anakin can hear himself cry out; the touch is a relief, but it also hurts – Obi-Wan has kept him on the edge for hours now, and he’s been hard for so long and it’s so much. He feels his balls draw even tighter to his body, ready to shake apart at the lightest of touches and – 

He bucks his hips, and immediately, Obi-Wan’s hand disappears.

“No,” he wails, “no, please, I can’t, Matser, I need, please, I can’t, it hurts –”

“Oh darling,” Obi-Wan says, pressing sweet kisses along his cheek, his temple, as desperate sobs wreck his body, “it’s alright. I’ll give you what you need, I promise. You’ve been so good for me, holding on for so long. It’s alright now.”

And then there’s a fist wrapped around his length again, tighter this time, actually jerking him, and a single finger breaching his hole and teasing his prostate. His entire focus narrows down to the lower part of his body, and it only takes four, maybe five strokes of Obi-Wan’s broad, calloused hands before Anakin is shouting loud enough for the entire Temple to hear as he’s coming, balanced on a knife’s edge of pleasure and pain. 

Obi-Wan’s hands never stop moving, working him through his orgasm and beyond, relentless and unforgiving even as Anakin is shivering and thrashing from the overstimulation, beyond words as tears stream down his face. He’s not even grown soft, and it shouldn’t even be possible when he comes again a couple of minutes later, right on the tail of his first orgasm, but he does, cock spurting in Obi-Wan’s grasp. This time the wave crashing over him is both softer and more overwhelming – there’s no air to be punched out of his lungs, so all he manages is a wet gasp, before he collapses on the bedspread, utterly spent, his body limp. 

“Good boy,” he hears Obi-Wan murmur distantly, reverently, alongside a rustle of clothes. Maybe the night isn’t over for him yet, after all.

[tomicaleto]

Get ready

[anakinsthot]

This fills the Sith AU prompt and gives me a BINGO!

Wrote this in one night which, for me, is insane. It's not where I thought my sith au would go but I'm so pleased with it! A bit different than what I usually write.

[rexismycopilot]

Title: Anakin's Comfort

Summary: 5 times Anakin has his belly rubbed as a way to comfort him and 1 time Anakin does it for Obi-Wan

Words: 3.7k

For @obikin-events bingo: Hurt/Comfort

[jabba-theslutt]

Oh shit, this was supposed to be for bingo (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

@obikin-events

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker, Dooku (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Stalker Obi-Wan, stalker au, Anakin is 17, so I tagged it underage to be safe, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Unhappy Ending, Suicide, No Sucidial Ideation, Top Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bottom Anakin Skywalker Summary:

Obi-Wan gets a new neighbor and muse. His life changes forever (probably for the worse)

[moonlightatnoon]

No Devotion Greater by myideaofbeautiful

Chapter 5: Prompt - Childhood friends

Summary:

"That isn't your decision to make."

A growl rumbled in Anakin's throat, "you can't go!"

"Why?" Obi-Wan shouted. Anakin panted into the space between them, staring into Obi-Wan's eyes. They burned with contained fury. Obi-Wan had always been better at containing his anger. As kids they had both been spitfires, but the years have dulled Obi-Wan's temper. A calm had settled over him. Anakin both envied and loathed it.

His eyes flicked down and caught on where his hand was curled around Obi-Wan's bared skin. He watched as Obi-Wan swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing beneath the spread of his fingers and his mouth ran dry.

Then he crashed their mouths together.

@obikin-events