1. Chapter 1 by Emma Grant
Obi-Wan sighed heavily, willing himself to be patient. The Boralian senator prattled on endlessly, gesturing broadly with his hands and occasionally sloshing little drops of his drink in all directions. Obi-Wan had already taken several discreet steps back in order to avoid soiling his robe, but the man had stayed close. Too close, really.
"And then I said, 'Please, Minister, I don't know you that well'," the senator chortled. Obi-Wan smiled as politely as possible, though he didn't really get the joke. The senator leaned a little closer, grinning mischievously. "You grow tired of these proceedings, Jedi Kenobi?"
Obi-Wan stiffened, mentally swatting himself. "Oh, no, no, Senator, not at all. I am a bit distracted. I apologize."
The senator smiled more widely than Obi-Wan had ever seen a Boralian smile. "I have sensed as much from you. I have been... distracted in your presence as well."
Obi-Wan groaned inwardly. Had he been inadvertently giving the senator a false impression? He'd thoroughly studied the cultural briefs before the mission, and was quite aware of the rather loose sexual attitudes held by the Boralians. He'd carefully shielded his thoughts and feelings all evening, but this was the third time he'd been propositioned in the space of half an hour! He'd managed to extricate himself each time, uncertain what precisely he'd done to give the impression that he was interested. Or available.
The treaty negotiations had gone fairly smoothly due to the empathic abilities of the Boralian delegates. Deception was nothing but an abstract concept in their language, and so all he and Anakin had to do was to monitor the proceedings from the sidelines. It had been quite draining for his apprentice, who felt the emotions and intentions of people much more intensely than did Obi-Wan.
Anakin had been particularly excited about this reception tonight. Obi-Wan was less so, but he could certainly appreciate the prospect of a relaxing evening spent enjoying the hospitality of their hosts. Anakin hadn't had many opportunities to experience luxury in his life, and he had never completely accepted the Jedi tenet of eschewing desires for pleasure and possession. Abstinence was not a word easily applied to his padawan, unfortunately. Not that his padawan was a hedonist, by any means. He merely took advantage of opportunities in situations where it would not have occurred to Obi-Wan to do so.
Actually, he hadn't seen his padawan for a while. He scanned the reception hall, but the teenager was nowhere in sight. Obi-Wan's forehead wrinkled slightly.
He politely excused himself from the company of the senator and began to make his way across the crowded hall toward doors that opened onto a balcony. He could feel Anakin's presence there, and what he sensed encouraged him to walk a bit faster.
He passed through the open doors into the darkness of the sprawling balcony. No padawan in sight. But he was there. Obi-Wan concentrated, and then turned to his left. He walked forward a few paces and closed his eyes, bringing his hand to his forehead with an exasperated sigh. Not again.
A small scuffle was heard, and a very guilty-looking boy emerged from the shadows, short hair quite ruffled, self-consciously pulling his dark formal robe around himself. Another figure appeared a moment later to stand beside him -- the daughter of the viceroy, looking equally disheveled. The front of the shirt she was wearing had not been refastened properly and was slightly askew.
Obi-Wan said not a word, gesturing sharply toward the doors leading back inside. Anakin sighed, and Obi-Wan could see him struggle not to roll his eyes. Anakin turned to the girl beside him and bowed slightly, murmuring an apology and a "good evening." Obi-Wan took a step back in order not to embarrass the Boralian girl any further, and started walking back towards the building, soon feeling Anakin's presence as the boy hurried to catch up.
They walked quietly across the room, exchanged polite greetings with their hosts, and finally left the hall without so much as glancing at each other. Even the walk to the small inn at which they shared a room was completed in silence. The night air was cool and the streets empty, given the lateness of the hour. Obi-Wan tried very hard not to think about what he'd seen, or what might have happened had he not arrived at the moment he did. He tried not to let himself feel anger, or disappointment, or anything other than the serenity of a Jedi Master who was about to discipline a very unruly padawan. It wasn't easy.
Through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hallway they walked, Anakin trailing his master quietly. The boy was clearly subdued, even nervous. Once the door was closed behind them, Anakin flopped onto his small bed, bringing his hands up to cover his face. Obi-Wan sat on his own bed, arms crossed before him, waiting as patiently as he could bear.
"What the hell were you doing, Anakin?" His voice did not express the calm and masterly tone he'd been hoping for.
The boy raised his head to look at him, an embarrassed smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I should think it was quite obvious, Master."
"You know precisely what I mean." Obi-Wan attempted his best "Master glare." It had, unfortunately, stopped working on his apprentice years earlier.
Anakin sighed, sitting up to face him. "She approached me, Master. I resisted her for a while -- honestly -- but she took me out on the balcony, and she kissed me, and I--"
"You didn't appear to be resisting very strongly when I found you."
"She said she wanted to show her gratitude for the help we'd given her people," Anakin stammered. "And she pulled me into a dark corner and started groping me. What would you have done?"
"I would have said that Jedi are not allowed to accept payment in return for services rendered." Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed slightly at the expression of denial already forming on his apprentice's face. "Yes, even that sort of payment, Anakin. I know this has been covered in your ethics courses, and I don't believe I need to lecture you on this topic further."
"Thank the Force," the boy muttered.
"Pardon?" Obi-Wan fairly spat out.
Anakin grimaced. "Sorry, Master. I had no intention of saying that aloud."
And that, Obi-Wan thought glumly, was the crux of the problem. Anakin held everything in -- his disagreements, his emotions, his struggles. Rather than share or release his inappropriate emotions or thoughts, he would present a facade of a proper Jedi padawan whenever possible. As a result, Obi-Wan frequently had no idea what was going on in the boy's head. It was a problem he had no idea how to resolve. After nearly eight years of their partnership, he was still unable to trust his padawan completely, unable to read him clearly, to connect with him on the level he had connected with his own master.
But he had to try. "Anakin, believe it or not, I do understand how you're feeling. I was seventeen once, you know."
Anakin snorted softly at that. "I'm sure you were. Did anyone ever try to seduce you during a mission?"
"Yes, of course. Though, no one as lovely as the viceroy's daughter, I must admit." Obi-Wan allowed himself to smile, just a little. "There are more appropriate ways to deal with those feelings, Padawan."
Anakin grinned and made a crude gesture with his right hand. "Yes, I know. Is that how you get by, then?"
Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
Anakin hesitated, and then smiled slyly. "Master, to my knowledge, you haven't gotten laid once in the entire time I've known you." He raised an eyebrow. "You must be compensating somehow."
Obi-Wan smirked. "Anakin, my sex life is none of your concern." It seemed his apprentice wasn't so observant after all. Or, at least, Obi-Wan's efforts to maintain discretion were more successful than he'd dared to hope.
"Oh, but my sex life is yours?"
"Yes, in fact it is," Obi-Wan retorted, a bit too quickly. "You are not only my padawan, but my responsibility. Everything you do is my concern."
Anakin was silent for a moment, then his blue eyes flicked back up. "You think I'm a child," he said softly. "You think me inexperienced and innocent, don't you?"
As a matter of fact, Obi-Wan did not think that of Anakin. He was well aware of his apprentice's... activities. As long as they did not interfere with missions, he'd seen little reason to object. Such youthful promiscuity was a phase. He'd done it himself, once, and Qui-Gon had looked the other way.
Anakin stood and crossed the room to stand before Obi-Wan, looking down at him. "I'm not a child, you know."
"I know." Obi-Wan swallowed hard. In the dim light of the room, his apprentice's features were sharpened by the shadows, making him look older and darker than he was. His eyes fixed on Obi-Wan almost hungrily, as if...
Anakin took a step closer, daring to lace his fingers in Obi-Wan's hair, kneeling between his parted knees. His boldness stunned Obi-Wan into immobility.
"She had her hand inside my leggings, you know," he whispered, staring into Obi-Wan's eyes and holding him firmly in place. "She pushed me back into that corner and slid her hand inside. She was stroking my cock when you walked out there. I was on the verge of coming before you interrupted."
Obi-Wan wanted to close his eyes, to back away, to get away from that mesmerizing voice, that incredibly chiseled face, that...
Stop this, he thought. He's my apprentice.
Anakin's lips hovered above his own, threatening a kiss that Obi-Wan was more and more certain he wanted. "I'm still hard," Anakin whispered, and Obi-Wan could feel warm breath tickle across his beard. "It wouldn't take much."
Obi-Wan was dimly aware of his own arousal, and of the sudden urge swelling in him to slip his hand into Anakin's leggings, to take that stiff cock in hand and...
"No, Padawan. Stop this." He raised his hands and pushed Anakin back, a safer distance away.
Anakin blinked at him for a moment, then nodded, rising to his feet and taking a step backwards. He turned away from Obi-Wan and began to undress for bed, in silence.
Oh, that went well, Obi-Wan thought. He knew he ought to say something more, but at the moment he felt terribly awkward. The intensity of his own arousal had stunned him. He wasn't ready to contemplate those feelings just yet, and he had no choice but to push the boy away before anything happened that they might regret. But had he just hurt Anakin by rejecting him?
Just as Qui-Gon rejected me...
"Anakin, I'm sorry."
Anakin turned to face him, stripped to the waist. His skin glowed in the soft light. "Don't worry about it, Obi-Wan." He shrugged, smiling. "Let me know if you change your mind." He slid under the blanket and turned onto his side, back to Obi-Wan.
He couldn't sleep. He'd tried everything, but that persistent ache in his groin was not going away. Perhaps if he just... took his own advice.
Anakin's breathing was smooth and shallow across the room. If he was quiet...
His hand was already inside his leggings, stroking his rapidly swelling shaft slowly. He rolled on his side so that he was facing the wall, and let his mind wander. Anakin's face, hovering close, warm breath on his lips, then the pressure of that perfect mouth on his, tongue seeking entrance... He stroked faster, twisting his hand slightly on the upstroke, squeezing tightly at the base.
Too dry. He spit in his hand and continued, breathing a bit harder now, concentrating on the feeling of fingers stroking skin, of slight pressure at just the right moment. In his mind, Anakin's kiss became deeper, tongue thrusting roughly into his mouth, hands clenched in his hair to the point of pain.
No, this was... this wasn't right. He shouldn't be fantasizing about his apprentice like this. His very young, very beautiful, slightly dangerous apprentice. Who'd apparently gotten more action than his master lately.
Obi-Wan slowed his strokes and drifted, enjoying the feel of his own touch in the darkness, quietly pleasuring himself. He hadn't needed to be so quiet about it for years. This was something he'd done quite frequently when he was Anakin's age, especially when sleeping within meters of Qui-Gon Jinn. The man was the object of his fantasies for most of his apprenticeship, and even after. Obi-Wan had been very discreet about his feelings -- such relationships weren't technically forbidden, but neither were they encouraged.
Once, when not much older than Anakin was now, he'd made an awkward pass at the man after having drunk too much at a diplomatic reception. Qui-Gon had led him back to their temporary quarters and helped him undress, settling him into bed. Obi-Wan had apologized repeatedly for the trouble he'd caused, and Qui-Gon had shushed him with a glint of humor that caught Obi-Wan off-guard. So he kissed him. Kissed his master, flinging his arms around the man's neck and pulling him down on top of him, pressing his tongue into the other's mouth with little finesse. Qui-Gon had allowed it for a few moments, much to Obi-Wan's delight, and had even kissed him back to an extent.
Then he'd pushed him away gently, smiling. And that was all. Obi-Wan had been too mortified too mention it in the morning, and Qui-Gon said nothing. It was as if it had never happened.
But it became the basis of rather elaborate fantasies, things he hadn't thought of for years. Qui-Gon kissing him roughly, pressing his body against the bed with such force he couldn't move, taking his erection in his hand and stroking him firmly.
That image filled his mind now, as vividly as it ever had. His own hands were rougher than they had been years ago, and he could almost imagine his master's touch. One hand slid up the length of his cock; the other cradled his balls, rolling them gently between his fingers. He began stroking faster again, the images returning one after another with startling clarity. He was getting close.
Obi-Wan moaned slightly.
And wanted to kick himself. He froze, listening. The room was eerily quiet. He exhaled smoothly, calming his pounding heart. If Anakin caught him, he wasn't sure he'd ever recover from his embarrassment. But nothing happened. The boy was probably aware, but was being graciously discreet. Force knew Obi-Wan had been forced to listen to Anakin's similar nocturnal activity on many occasions.
Obi-Wan waited for another moment, until he could hear Anakin's breathing again. His fantasy was gone now, whisked away like so much dust, but he was still aching for release. He pulled his cock a few more times, then stroked as rapidly as he could. He was making too much noise, but it was likely Anakin knew anyway. He may as well put on a show.
His orgasm arrived quickly and was gone again just as fast. It was quite unsatisfying, but perhaps he'd be able to sleep, at least. He rubbed sticky semen into the sensitive skin of his belly with a slight circular motion. He heard Anakin shift behind him, a slight rustling of sheets and the squeak of an old mattress carrying through the quiet room with startling clarity.
He sighed. Perhaps Anakin was asleep after all.
"Master?" a small voice whispered.
Obi-Wan stifled a groan.
"May I sleep with you tonight? I'm uncomfortable. It's cold in here and my bed is terribly small." That voice sounded almost childlike in the darkness. Of course, Anakin was hardly a child, and Obi-Wan knew that fact quite well.
"No, Anakin. Not tonight," he sighed. Not a good idea. Not now. Maybe not ever again, after what he'd felt, what he'd imagined.
"Yes, Master. Sleep well."
"You also, Padawan."
Across the room, Anakin smiled as he settled into his pillow. He knew what Obi-Wan was thinking, how strongly he desired his apprentice. Anakin would just have to be patient. He could do that. He could wait forever if he had to.