Chapter Text
Obi-Wan spends the next two days convincing himself that what happened in Anakin’s quarters had nothing to do with Anakin. He’s always been exceptionally well at swaying others to his point of view – hence his namesake of the Negotiator; so it is no trouble at all making himself believe this. Even when he’s back in his own quarters, with his dildo – wet with spit from choking himself on it – stuck to the floor-level transparisteel window, throwing his ass back on it, and an outer-rim accent in his head tells him what a good bitch you are .
The second he’s actually reunited with Anakin again, he knows he is a fool. And an idiot. And hopelessly, mortifyingly, desperately in want of him.
Anakin has only returned to the Temple to pick him up, coming straight from Skako Minor to take them both to Akasji to deal with threats of insurgents. Obi-Wan doesn’t know whether the Council gave him this directive for reasons of giving them the travel time to debrief and plan, or if Anakin had the option of simply meeting him on Akasji, but chose otherwise. He is fairly sure this was discussed during the meeting he missed while fucking himself on his fingers. Because Obi-Wan is a masochistic, useless alpha – he lets himself believe the second option. It makes him feel warm all over.
When Anakin breezes past him, telling him “ Make yourself comfortable on the ship, Master. I’ve just gotta grab a few things from my quarters ,” Obi-Wan breathes in the scent of him while trying to make it look like he’s very much not doing that. The smell of Anakin makes the warmth inside Obi-Wan crackle and smolder and set him ablaze.
He wonders if this is what being in heat feels like.
By the time Anakin returns, Obi-Wan has made himself comfortable on the ship by bringing himself off into the ‘fresher bowl in seemingly record time. Not even bothering to spit into his hand, nearly chafing his dick as he clenches around his new – bigger – plug.
When he re-enters the cockpit, Anakin is punching coordinates into the navicomputer, and Obi-Wan comes closer to appear like he’s double-checking that they’re correct, but really he just wants to see if the impromptu masturbation session had any real effect – if Anakin’s scent, or even just the proximity of his body would stir his overworked cock to life again.
“Going into hyperspace now,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan nods while he sucks in greedy lungfuls of breath through his nose as subtly as possible. His dick manages a weak twitch, but doesn’t seem too intent on getting hard, which is strangely disappointing to him.
He’s not disappointed for long, though. When they shift into hyperspace, Obi-Wan is so lost in the other alphas scent that he doesn’t brace himself, and quick as ever, Anakin sticks out his mechno-hand to grip him by the waist to prevent him from crashing to the ships floor. So tight, too tight. Just right. His dick is hard again in mere moments, and as Anakin squeezes him once more, smirks up at him and says, “Getting clumsy in your old age?” Obi-Wan clenches around his plug in long, greedy pulses, willing it to shift against his prostate.
“Something like that,” he manages weakly.
–
They manage not to crash this time. Of course, trouble still finds them – only in a different form. As it turns out, the Akasji government that had requested Jedi intervention for their violent extremist problem had a rat. A rat that spread the word that Jedi were coming.
It’s late on Akasji, and they’re greeted by a small group that escorts them to their rooms with plans to meet in the morning to discuss the plan of action.
Mere minutes after their hosts bow and leave them, blaster fire shatters the window.
“Out!” Obi-Wan shouts, and they take off down the hallway, Anakin speaking rapidly into his comlink, alerting the Akasji officials. Suddenly, Anakin stops, boots skidding and Obi-Wan halts beside him, distracted by the sweat that has started to roll down his neck for only a moment before he registers the masked figures coming down the hallway toward them. Twin streaks of blue light the murky hallway, and then there is blaster fire coming from behind them as well, assumingly having come in through their window.
Obi-Wan darts forward then cuts a sharp turn down another hallway, propelling himself with the Force and feeling Anakin follow his lead. Once they make another turn and are out of sight of the insurgents, he picks one of the doors and throws himself inside, beckoning Anakin to follow.
In his haste, he hadn’t checked what kind of room it was. He assumed a residential unit, like the one they were given, one they could quickly formulate a real plan in, or escape out of through a window instead of risking being caught between the two groups – possibly more, as far as they know.
It is not a guest room. It is not even a room, it is a broom closet.
Anakin knocks into him as he makes the realization, and Obi-Wan makes to take off again, find another place to debrief. But, then – blaster fire shoots down the hallway, and Anakin tugs him back along with the door.
“Ana–”
A warm, gloved hand covers his mouth, smothering his words. Suddenly, Obi-Wan is all too aware of the way the front of Anakin’s body is pressed snug to the back of his own, and a shudder runs through him as he feels the rise and fall of Anakin’s hard chest against his shoulder blades.
“Shut up, Master,” Anakin mutters, the words fluttering through his hair.
Obi-Wan swallows and it nearly hurts with how dry his mouth has gone. He wrenches the hand from his mouth and whispers back, harshly, “Do you honestly think they can hear us over the sound of their own fire and footsteps, Anakin? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw a Sullustan. They might as well have ears like Master Piell, with the kind of hearing they have.”
Obi-Wan stiffens. Anakin is right. If there is even one Sullustan in the extremists’ ranks, or, Force forbid, the group is made of them – even whispering is risky. Especially now that if they are discovered, they’ll be at the disadvantage of not being able to light their ‘sabers until out of the closet, and the maybe-Sullustans will get the jump on them.
It’s a worst-case scenario. Or, maybe it’s not. Obi-Wan can’t make the distinction when the scent of Anakin is so close, and with every growing second he’s more aware of every single inch of himself that is connected to his former Padawan’s body. Has Anakin not gone on suppressants, or is Obi-Wan only wishing that the burning scent of him is taking over the small space?
He makes himself speak, voice throaty even in his whisper, “We’ll wait them out, then.”
Anakin shifts behind him. “Right.”
It is torture.
For Force knows how long, they remain that way; bodies snug and hot and squirming every now and then. Switching weight from foot to foot, leaning back, leaning forward. Obi-Wan can only hope Anakin can’t feel the flex of his ass every time he involuntarily squeezes at his plug, his rim sucking at the stem of it. It’s never felt so small inside of him.
Anakin’s alpha cock is so close. It should be in him, where it belongs. Stuffing him full, fucking shallowly into him in the tight space, bullying him against the door with every thrust, so good, so right, so fucking big , alpha, alpha –
The sound of feet fly past the door again, and Obi-Wan lets his head lull until it thuds against the surface in front of him.
Two gloved hands are on his hips immediately, and Obi-Wan wants so badly to arch, press his ass back onto Anakin. Offer himself up.
“Obi-Wan, no sounds. Are you okay?”
No, alpha. I’m not okay. I need you, I need your big, thick cock in my ass. I haven’t thought of a single thing since the first time you let me have it, when you mounted me and fucked me like the bitch I am. I’m so empty, alpha, it hurts.
“I’m fine, Anakin. Just – tired.”
Anakin sounds skeptical, “You sure?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispers, then he bites the inside of his cheek until he’s sure he’s drawn blood. It’s better than moaning at the feeling of Anakin’s soft breath in his ear, and the grip on his hips that eased up but hasn’t left. It would be so easy for his alpha to slide his hands to Obi-Wan’s ass, grip him tight, and spread him open. Obi-Wan would settle for getting fucked through his clothes. He just needed to feel his alpha against him. He’d fight off the Sullustans covered in Anakin’s come, he didn’t care. Frustrated and blushing at his own thoughts, he squirms and tries to put distance between their bodies, but it inly presses his front into the door, and he’s entirely too turned on to stop himself from humping against it, so he tips back and leans against Anakin.
It takes everything in him not to tug down his trousers and spread himself when he feels the unmistakable shape of Anakin’s cock pressed against his ass.
His alpha is hard.
At the feeling, his cock, swollen and needy and pressed tight to the seam of his pants, blurts out a fat drop of precome that he can feel blooming a wet spot into his briefs. Without his permission, his hips twitch anyway, and he lets out a little squeak when Anakin’s hands grip him tight once more.
“Master, are you sure you’re okay?”
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
Obi-Wan only trusts himself to nod. He has such a good alpha, always looking out for him. A sweat breaks out, making his hair stick to the back of his neck while an excited chill runs down his spine and makes him shiver.
Anakin’s hands move to his shoulders, pulling him back even further to his dark-clad figure. “I’m serious. Are you injured? You don’t seem alright.” Then, those gloved hands are pressing down his arms, squeezing at him in different spots, checking for injuries before moving to his torso to do the same. When he reaches Obi-Wan’s navel, it causes him to flinch and push back against Anakin again. So protective, so good, my alpha. Anakin’s cock is wedged against one side of him, so he slides until it’s nestled where it should be, pressed tight right between his ass.
–
This is both the best and worst day of Anakin’s life.
One one hand, he’s pressed tight and snug against his Master – something Anakin usually only got to dream about. There’s no space between him and his perfect, uptight, alpha Master. It’s the thing Anakin’s teenage (and twenties) wet dreams are made of.
On the other hand, he’s as hard as durasteel – which really isn’t entirely unexpected – and Obi-Wan seems to be having some kind of episode. Or hiding an injury. Or he’s fallen deathly ill and is about to die while Anakin is attempting to hold his own breath to make his boner go away. At least whatever is happening is keeping Obi-Wan from noticing the fact that he’s dangerously close to popping a knot against his ass. Or noticing that he’s being entirely unhelpful about said knot, wiggling against Anakin and making everything worse. Despite the fact that it’s the best thing Anakin has ever felt.
“Obi-Wan, please. Just talk to me,” he begs, voice raising dangerously above a whisper. He brings his hands back to Obi-Wan’s hips and jostles him a little, both to shake an answer out of him, and get some distance between their bodies. His Master just leans into the touch. With his hips, at least. His upper body falls forward, and his bearded cheek rests against the door. Anakin swallows harshly at the sight, and looks away from the line of his Master’s back, long and curved in a pretty arch. Glancing down, though, only shows him the cherry brown of Obi-Wan’s boots sliding apart, spreading his legs a few inches wider. The older man makes another helpless little sound, and Anakin feels dread overpower his arousal for a moment.
“You’re losing your footing,” he wraps his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and tugs him up, “Listen to my voice, Master. Stay with me.” Anakin takes the majority of the other man's weight, holding him close and trying not to panic. Noticing he’s been breathing through clenched teeth, he remembers his training and starts to attempt sucking in deep, slow breaths through his nose. Obi-Wan’s hair rustles with it; they’re so close.
Wait. Anakin’s brow furrows. That’s… What is that? That smell…
It’s familiar. Eyes wide, he shoves his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, sniffing obnoxiously while the other man mewls.
He breathes in. His quarters at the Temple. His bed, meticulously made. His laundry, perfectly sorted and washed and folded on top of it. That smell. Lingering, permeating, clinging to everything, floating into his nose and up to his brain and licking along his neurons until he was hard in his pants, for some reason. It was just the newness of being an alpha. Everything turned him on these days.
Another greedy breath. His ship. The pilot seat, spotless. The dash, the control panel – he could practically see his reflection in it. But still, even through the sharp burn of chemical, that smell. He was barely out of rut. It was probably nothing. He pulls his cock out and jerks off all over the console anyway.
Anakin clutches at Obi-Wan and breathes hot and damp against his neck. They crashed, He went into rut. He woke up. That smell. Everywhere, everywhere. In him, on him, stuck to his clothes and in his mouth and pooling in his gut. Obi-Wan can’t look him in the eye.
There’s no way. Anakin is dreaming. Obi-Wan isn’t aroused. Can’t be aroused. His Master can’t – want him. Want him. He’s an alpha.
Experimentally, Anakin presses his hips forward minutely.
Obi-Wan keens lowly, and twitches in his grasp. His head tilts until Anakin is staring at the long line of his neck, bared.
Anakin’s eyes nearly cross. His cock is so hard it hurts. There’s no way.
Still, he could double check.
He lets his mouth fall open and his teeth ache at the sight of his Master’s neck. Leaning forward, he lets them graze against the pale skin, and almost cries when he lolls out his tongue to taste Obi-Wan’s sweat.
“ Alpha, ” Obi-Wan’s voice breaks.
–
A beep. A crackle. “Masters Kenobi, Skywalker. Where are you? We’ve neutralized the threat.”
Obi-Wan is pawing at the door handle and throwing it open without a thought. He stumbles into the hallway, embarrassment bursting into him like the fresh air in his lungs.
He doesn’t make it far. Only a few steps before he’s being shoved across the hall and against the wall in front of him, and then Anakin is pressed against him once more. In his pants, his cock throbs, swollen and wet; he’s sure if he lifted up his tunics there’d be a damp spot by now. Behind him, Anakin is moving, and then speaking into his comlink, something about we’re alright not feeling well no not that ill we can handle it yes thank you see you tomorrow. Obi-Wan barely registers it. It sounds like his voice is coming from underwater with the way his pulse is roaring in his ears. He makes a nerveless attempt at moving, but Anakin just crowds closer, and a leather-clad hand sinks into his hair and keeps his head pressed against the wall. It makes his eyes roll back, and he shuts his lids tight so Anakin won’t see it.
“You didn’t really let me be when I went into rut, did you, Master?”
Obi-Wan squirms and sweats. He could lie. He could talk his way out of this. He knows he has the ability. Convincing, swaying, negotiating is his specialty. If he really wanted to, he could make Anakin let him go, walk away, and never speak of this again,
Except, he doesn’t really want to.
“No, I didn’t,” he tells Anakin in a shaky voice, swallowing a whine when Anakin’s grip in his hair tightens.
“And in my ship? In my rooms?”
“Anakin, I –,” Obi-Wan knows he’s flushed a deep red. The image of himself, what he must;ve looked like, doing those things, makes him claw at the walls in front of him. Desperately, he wants to give his alpha what he wants, but – saying it to Anakin feels like too deep a plunge.
Behind him, he feels Anakin let go of the tension in his body, and the grip on his head eases up.
“Just – just answer me this, Obi-Wan. Do you want me?”
His alpha sounds unsure, insecure. It makes Obi-Wan’s heart clench and for the first time all night, his cock starts to deflate. He has to fix it.
“ Yes. Yes, of course I do, Anakin. Is it not obvious?” He pleads.
All of Anakin’s weight, his touch, leaves Obi-Wan. He’s never felt so cold, so painstakingly empty. Letting out a weak whimper, tears fill his eyes, This is humiliating. His alpha doesn’t want him back.
From a few steps behind him, Anakin says: “Convince me.”
Despite the hold on him being gone, Obi-Wan remains pressed against the wall. “What?” He asks, confused.
“You heard me, Obi-Wan. Convince me.” There’s a hint of alpha command in his voice that makes Obi-Wan feel like his knees are going to give out. “Convince me that you want me.”
What else is there to do? His alpha gave him an order.
With shaking hands, Obi-Wan reaches back and gets a hold of his trousers in briefs. Once last, deep breath of courage and then he’s tugging them down over his ass, and fumbling with his hanging tunics until they’re not draping over and covering his backside. He’s so turned on, he can’t help the way his ass flexes around the plug, and the feeling of it rubbing against his walls, while his alpha watches , makes him slide his feet apart and push his lower half away from the wall.
It must part him enough to make the plug visible, because there’s a choked inhale behind him, and then, “Is that–?”
Desperate to please, to convince Anakin, he takes both sides of his ass in his hands and spreads himself, showing off the way his rim is needily milking the plug. His arousal continues to pulse and rise to a point he never knew possible, and when he glances down, his cock is nearly purple. Shifting on his feet, he waits for his alpha to say something, anything. Give him an order.
All he can hear is ragged breaths, until, “Look at me.”
His compliance is immediate, and he lets go of his ass to turn around, but only manages to get halfway there before Anakin’s voice is telling him, stern, “No. Stay where you are. Just look at me.”
Obi-Wan’s blush reaches a fever pitch, and he returns to his prior position, ass sticking out, face against the wall. He strains his eyes to look over his shoulder with big, wet eyes.
Anakin’s eyes are almost black. Arms crossed, teeth grinding, bulge visible even in his dark robes. “Forgetting something?” He asks, almost mocking.
Apologetically, Obi-Wan flutters his eyelashes, while he reaches down and pulls his ass open once more for his alpha. “‘M sorry.”
“Wider,” Anakin orders. Obi-Wan grips himself and tugs until it aches. If it weren’t for his plug, he knows he’d be gaping. His hole twitching for Anakin’s gaze. The idea makes him dizzy, and he rocks his hips into nothing, all while keeping eye contact.
“What did you do in my room, Master?” Anakin asks in a low voice.
Obi-Wan’s toes curl in his boots and it takes him several attempts, opening his mouth and stuttering before he finds the words. “I touched myself,” he manages. Rewarded for his answer, Anakin takes a step closer.
“You jerked off?”
“No,” he denies immediately. Emboldened by his alpha getting closer, Obi-Wan continues, “I didn’t even touch my cock. I – I fucked myself on my fingers.”
He gets a pleased hum in return for his honesty. “You do that often, Obi-Wan? Do you like playing with your hole?”
Despite wanting to pant and nod and moan yes yes yes, he thinks about his answer. Anakin has to know; he hasn’t always been like this. “Nowadays, yes,” he sighs.
Anakin’s head tilts and he trails off with his words, “Ever since…”
Obi-Wan jumps at the chance, “Ever since your rut. Ever since you fucked me.”
Another step forward, close enough to smell. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was ashamed.”
At the words, Anakin’s face softens. “Obi-Wan,” he says, voice all tender.
Swallowing, Obi-Wan continues, “Ashamed that I liked it. Ashamed that I simply was acting to save your life but ended up – ,” he loses his nerve for a moment, but then Anakin is stepping closer and now they’re almost touching. “I wanted it. I – I loved it. You mounted me, humiliated me, and I haven’t thought of a single thing since. I’m unbearably empty, always. It hurts, I ache. I made a mess of your ship, your quarters, because I need it so badly. Skipping meetings, not going anywhere without being full. I can’t stand it, Anakin.” His gaze lowers, and he speaks quietly, “I thought I could get it out of my system. I thought I could get you out of my system.”
Anakin closes the difference between them, and rests his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips, making him shiver. “I know the feeling.”
Obi-Wan meets Anakin’s eyes again, and while there’s a part of him, nestled deep, that tells him to snarl, to shrink away from a gaze so sharp, instead; he blooms, feeling his nerves and embarrassment melt into syrupy arousal that lights him up inside, warms him until his eyes are half-lidded and he’s begging, mouth wet and wanton, “Touch me.”
A growl, and the grip on his hips turning into a greedy clutch. Obi-Wan moans, eyes fluttering shut. Now, Anakin leans into him fully once more, and without the extra layers of Obi-Wan’s clothing, his alpha's cock is that much closer, thrusting against him, pushing him into the wall while his mouth hangs open and he’s making needy sounds.
“Take off your clothes,” Anakin rumbles in his ear, before moving down to tug at Obi-Wan’s boots and then his pants. Obi-Wan removes his belt and unties his obi with shaking hands, then lets his tunics and tabards slide off him. When Anakin rises again, his body radiating heat and making the two inches of height he has on him seem more intimidating than ever, Obi-Wan shudders and he feels his cock leak obscenely.
Anakin takes him by the hips and twirls him around so fast he nearly loses his balance. Their arms wrap around each other and chest to toe, they’re pressed together; Obi-Wan naked and his alpha fully clothed. It’s filthy, and Obi-Wan humps against him, whining, until the sound is muffled by Anakin’s tongue, licking into his mouth and prying him open. He simply lets it happen, barely returns the kiss, letting his alpha plunder his mouth and lick his teeth and suck on his tongue. From around his torso, Anakin’s hands move, coming up to shove his back into the wall, and then brushing down his shoulders, past his collarbones, until his gloved hands are laid over Obi-Wan’s chest. Arching into the touch immediately, Obi-Wan thuds his head against the wall behind him while Anakin plays with his chest, circling his areola teasingly until he’s taking his nipples between thumb and forefinger, coaxing them to hardness.
“Have you always been sensitive here, Obi-Wan? Or did you not like it until you started imagining them being full of milk?”
Obi-Wan thrashes in his hold, too turned on to answer properly, only whining. To stop his squirming, Anakin drops his hands to the underside of his thighs, and hauls him up, taking the air out of his lungs. Instinctively, he wraps his legs around his alphas waist, hole clenching at the act of strength, burying his hands in his hair, and pulling his head back to his chest, “Suck me,” he moans dazedly. Anakin’s tongue laves around his nipples, wetting his chest hair and making him moan.
He barely moves his mouth from where he’s snug against him when he begins to speak, “Yeah? Is that what you want? Want me to fill you up and fuck you full until you’re fat and pregnant with my kids? Until your tits leak and you need me to make it better?”
“ Yes, yes, yes ,” Obi-Wan chants. His alpha knows. His alpha knows exactly what he wants. “Breed me, please, I need it.” There’s two final, biting sucks to each of his nipples, before he’s suddenly being dropped back to the ground on shaky legs. Anakin stares at him with his dark eyes for a moment, before pulling him into a searing kiss.
“I will,” his alpha tells him. Then, he’s being pushed to his knees.
“I thought –,” Obi-Wan starts.
Anakin cuts him off, gripping his hair and tugging it back until their eyes meet. “You’ve been walking around with your ass stuffed since we got back from that mission, Master. Doing nothing but fucking yourself in your free time. Coming all over my stuff. Is your ass really that hungry that you can’t go another second without my cock in it?” With the words, he reaches down and palms himself through his clothes, right in front of Obi-Wan’s face, making his mouth water. “Or maybe you don’t want to suck my cock?”
Anakin tugs at his waistband until it rests under his balls, and as soon as his cock springs free, Obi-Wan is leaning forward, mouth open, tongue out, ready to apologize, ready to prove that he’ll take anything and everything his alpha gives him.
Unfortunately, he’s stopped by the grip in his hair. He whines and glares up through his eyelashes, mouth still open.
Chuckling, Anakin pulls at the glove on his free hand with his teeth, freeing his flesh hand. “Don’t pout,” he tells him, then three fingers are sliding into Obi-Wan’s mouth, petting at his tongue, pressing into his teeth, pushing back and back until drool pools and Obi-Wan’s eyes water as he tries not to gag. Anakin watches him with hooded eyes, before pressing deeper, making him choke. The sound of it mixes with Obi-Wan’s moan. “Fuck,” Anakin curses. “You really are a whore, aren’t you, Obi-Wan?” Then, the fingers plunge back in, gagging him once more as he nods.
Anakin finally lets up, leaving Obi-Wan gasping for breath, and begins to tug at his length. At the sight of his alpha playing with his cock, stroking it with his big hand, he hums and wrestles against the grip in his hair until he’s out of it and pressing kisses against the shaft, letting the spit in his mouth slip out and cover him, wet his hand, make it sloppy. He nuzzles it with his beard, relishing in the hiss he gets in return, then lowers his head to suck at Anakin’s balls until he pulls him back, growling.
In bliss, he closes his eyes as his face is slapped by Anakin’s cock and covered in the wet of his precome. He drops his mouth open again, tongue hanging out blindly until the spongy softness of his alpha’s cock rests against it and he’s closing his lips, moaning and sucking and swirling his tongue. The hand in his hair pushes him down another few inches. His cock is so hard he thinks he might pass out. Obi-Wan has never been so happy. He’s pushed until he’s gagging again, and the sounds his alpha is making above him makes him whine around his mouthful and try to shove himself further, until his nose is brushing against pubic hair – and here his alpha smells so, so good. He reaches down to palm at his own, neglected cock, unable to take anymore without some relief –
“ No, Obi-Wan,” his alpha orders. He snatches his hand away. “You’re only coming with my cock inside you.”
Dazed, Obi-Wan nods while drool slips out either side of his mouth. Then, the grip on him is tugging him back, pulling him off his alpha's cock and when he looks up, Anakin is looking at him with such desire he almost forgets what he was just told, and has to fight off the urge to reach for his cock.
“You’re really good at that,” Anakin says, petting his hair away from his messy face, sounding awed.
Obi-Wan has to clear his throat to get words out, and he still sounds half-drunk, “Thank you. I practiced on my dildo.”
Anakin balks, then laughs incredulously, “You have a – Of course you do. Fucking cock slut. Fucking –,” he shakes his head in disbelief, “Size queen.” His voice isn’t mean, and Obi-Wan presses his face into his hand.
He smiles lazily, and drawls, “ Mm, yes. ‘M a cock slut.”
“Get up here,” Anakin says, even as he’s tugging Obi-Wan up on his own. Once they’re face to face once more, Anakin glances down, then drags a gloved finger along the tip of his cock making him twitch and buck into the touch. “You’re so wet. Kinda big for an omega, huh?”
Omega. Omega omega omega. I’m his omega. Obi-Wan keens, fucking his hips forward and feeling like he’ll die if the plug in his ass isn’t replaced with something bigger, immediately. The word makes him feel like he’s on fire. Tears spring to his eyes in want and he throws himself closer to Anakin, into his arms, catching his lips and kissing him desperately while Anakin clutches him back, even with one hand still stuck between them.
That hand wraps around him, and squeezes until he’s gasping.
“There’s ways to fix that, though.”
Obi-Wan heaves out a needy sob, hips rolling, mouth watering as the image of his big, useless, alpha cock locked up in a little cage, only Anakin having the key, wracks around in his head.
“Anakin, Anakin, please . I need it. Fuck me, fix me, I – I can’t,” he’s so overwhelmed, his breathing is stuttered and his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it may hurt. He needs it. He needs his alpha. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been an omega. It should’ve always been like this. I’m yours, my hole is yours , I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you before, please just fuck me,” he cries.
Anakin shushes him, cupping his face and coaxing him to open his watery eyes. His alpha’s face is so gentle, as he looks at him, eyes all blue and pretty.
“I’ll make you one,” his alpha tells him.
Obi-Wan is thrown to the ground before he can sob out a thank you, and Anakin barks at him, “ Present. ”
He does, immediately. Scrambling to all fours, widening his knees and arching his back, perking his ass up in the air and making his chest touch the ground. Purposefully, he clenches around his plug, showing off how much he needs to be fucked. When he feels Anakin move to the ground, he shivers to anticipation. When he feels the touch of both his alpha’s hands, both gloveless, against his ass, he tries to lean back into the touch, but gets a sharp crack against his ass. “ Ah! ” he cries out, blood rushing to his face, even as his cock drools below him.
“Stay,” Anakin rumbles, before reaching for the plug.
Obi-Wan can’t help but squirm, as his hole fights to keep the plug inside while Anakin tugs at it. He wants it out, he wants his alpha’s cock to replace it, but his body is so used to it. He’s not used to being without it.
Still, he’s so full of lube from squirting half the bottle inside himself before they left that it slips out fairly easily and then he’s choking out a noise against the ground as the cool air meets his winking hole, and he hears Anakin curse.
“ Stars end, Obi-Wan. This thing is nearly the size of my fist.”
“ Please, it’s not enough,” he whines, fighting the instinct to push back and ask for more.
Anakin slinks even closer and uses his thumbs to spread Obi-Wan even further. Lube slides out and drips down to his balls.
His alpha is so close to his hole. His alpha is going to fuck him. His alpha is going to fill his pussy up.
“Do you need…fingers?” Anakin asks, thoughtfully.
“No,” Obi-Wan mewls, knees sliding open further, “Just need,” he pauses to swallow, mouth too full of his own drool, “Just need your big, alpha cock.”
Anakin’s moan makes him twitch, and then, finally, that thick, fat cock is sliding against him, fucking against his wet hole but not entering, so big and hot and alpha alpha alpha. Obi-Wan’s eyes nearly cross and he grits his teeth until it hurts to haul himself back from the sudden edge of orgasm he finds himself on.
“You want this?” Anakin taunts, humping his ass. “You look so pretty like this, Master. Ass up, needy little hole leaking. Are you flexing it on purpose? Or is it just that greedy? Just that slutty?”
“ AnakinI ” Obi-Wan cries, now hyper aware of the way his ass is opening and closing, like it’s begging for his alpha’s cock. “Please, alpha. ”
It’s the magic word. Anakin slides in in one, smooth, wet thrust. And Obi-Wan feels like his mind is breaking.
“Fuck, fuck,” he pants, immediately, eyes wide like they were that first time. Anakin is so fucking big. And despite how much use it’s been through recently, Obi-Wan’s little cunt isn’t used to the girth and warmth and the fact that it’s Anakin. His alpha.
Once again, a big hand comes to pin his head. This time to the ground. Then, Anakin starts pummeling into him. Hard.
“ Alpha… ” The word is drawn out long and low, while Obi-Wan’s eyes roll back. He’s jostled against the ground, probably getting a hell of a rug burn. He loves it. He loves his alpha’s cock. He has to tell him.
“Anakin, alpha, I love it, I love your cock, it’s so good,” he chants mindlessly, smiling at the feeling of Anakin’s full balls slapping against him. Above him, Anakin is growling and panting and putting almost all his weight on him, caging him in with his body as he pounds Obi-Wan’s brains out.
“ Omega… ” The words are slurred.
Obi-Wan preens at the words, throwing his ass back, shoving his chest closer to the ground, wanting to be perfect for his alpha. Mouth hanging open, he lets out a sound every time Anakin’s hips. He claws at the ground, getting fucked forward inch after inch. Anakin has to reel back and readjust his grip, pinning him even more harshly.
“Need, mmph, breed me,” he gurgles.
Anakin’s hips slam into him, hands still shoving him into the floor, then he leans down to lick a hot line up Obi-Wan’s back and speak against his skin, “Yes, omega. Gonna fuck you full. Knock you up. Is that what you want? To be my bitch?”
Obi-Wan deliriously nods and tries weakly to fuck back on his alpha’s big cock, but can barely manage the movement with the way Anakin is pistoning into him. He relaxes against the floor and relishes in the harsh drag of his nipples against the carpet.
Tears spill from his eyes and he can barely think when Anakin doubles his efforts, fucking and fucking and fucking into him, over and over again, pounding him, owning him, making him his bitch. His fat cock drags against his insides, filling him perfectly, and then the tiniest shift in angle –
That’s the spot. That’s his spot. Obi-Wan mewls and drools on the floor, body limp in his alpha’s grasp as he’s ragdolled and fucked into like he’s nothing but a hole for cock. It’s perfect, right where he belongs.
“So tight, so wet. Omega, Obi-Wan,” Anakin pants. His chest is wet with sweat and Obi-Wan moans at the slick, hot feeling of it against his back. “Gonna fucking ruin you , come so deep, fuck you again and again and again .”
Relaxing his body, Obi-Wan lets his alpha fuck him into the floor. His cock is stuck beneath him, pressed against the ground and all his weight on it. He knows it’s making a mess, drooling precome like a faucet, all wet. His tender rim clings to Anakin’s cock, like it doesn’t want to let him go. “Yes, alpha, please, need it. Fuck me, fuck me. Break my hole. Break my fucking cunt.”
“I’m – Oh, fuck. Obi-Wan. I’m gonna – “ Anakin starts, and Obi-Wan feels himself soaring toward the edge at the thought of his alpha coming inside of him.
“Yes, alpha, yes. Please come, please fill me up, love your come, want it dripping out of me, always, always, ” he pants.
Anakin reels back, getting up on his knees, taking Obi-Wan with him by the hips. His grip is so tight, and Obi-Wan is so limp that his knees lift off the ground and Anakin is holding him up, fucking into his hole like the comedump he is, His chest still drags on the ground, and his tears wet the carpet. While he’s hanging like this, he has a perfect view of his sloppy cock bouncing along with his alpha’s thrusts.
The obscene noises of his cunt and his own soft screams almost drown out the sound of Anakin’s orgasm. Not that Obi-Wan could miss it, with the way his alpha fucks so hard into him he feels like he might actually break. Like his hole is going to forever be shaped in the form of Anakin’s cock and his fat fucking know that’s bullying its way inside of him. . And then, the warmth of his alpha’s hot, thick come is pumping into him, while Anakin growls wordlessly and tugs Obi-Wan up until they’re pressed close together again, and Obi-Wan’s cunt throbs and he cries out and he squirts out his orgasm, pulsing and quivering and milking the fat cock shoved inside him while his own tears and drool dry on his face.
For a long time, it’s silent. The two of them attempting to catch their breath, Anakin lowering them back to the ground, come leaking out of Obi-Wan’s ass.
After a while, he has to speak.
“Bite me.”
Anakin’s curly head slowly lifts from where it’s been laid in his chest, sucking at his tits.
“You’ll – You won’t be an alpha anymore. We can’t come back from that. I’ll – I’ll bitch you, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan looks at him, loves him, needs him. His hole already feels empty.
“I haven’t been an alpha since you first took me, Anakin.”
–
Later, back at the Temple, in Obi-Wan’s bed, in his first shaky attempt at a nest, Anakin sinks his teeth into him.
The alpha leaves Obi-Wan’s system.