Chapter Text
They were running out of time.
Well, not they.
Anakin was running out of time. Which, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, was even worse. In the times they were both hurtling towards a life-threatening experience, at least they were doomed together.
But currently, Anakin was the only one getting closer and closer to meeting his end, and Obi-Wan was helpless to do anything but sit and watch.
Not technically, Obi-Wan reminded himself. He wasn’t completely helpless. Sure, he had been just as lost as Anakin was when he’d crashed their ship again, destroying their communications along with any chance of getting off this foreign rock. But now, things were different.
Now that Anakin was clearly, obviously, painfully presenting.
As an alpha too, no less. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if that made the situation better or worse.
Worse. Much worse, his hindbrain growled. If he was presenting as an omega, you could help him so easily, You know you could. You could slide right in, he’d be so wet.
Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, not bothering to do it through his mouth the way he did whenever he had the unfortunate luck of being in the close vicinity of an unmated, unsuppressed, near-heat omega. Anakin’s scent wasn’t bad per say, but it was like smelling a perfume too closely. It was sharp, and clogging. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if his steadily developing headache was due to his sinus’ rejection of the smell, or if it was just the situation all together.
He watched as Anakin rocked himself on the ground, head buried against his knees, one hand gripping his own hair and the other clutched even harsher into the overgrown grass. There was patched areas all around him from where he’d ripped it up after finally collapsing. He had powered through the early-onset symptoms, trekking alongside Obi-Wan in search of civilization, water, anything.
Of course Obi-Wan felt guilty for not recognizing the state of him earlier—he had gone through the same exact thing when he presented as an alpha at seventeen.
Anakin wasn’t seventeen, though. He was twenty-two. It was the tail-end of the typical presenting age range, but Obi-Wan had given up on Anakin being anything other than a beta long ago. When his Padawan was fifteen he had shot up like a weed, growing until he was taller than Obi-Wan. His long and gangly teenage limbs had filled out, and his voice lowered several notches. By the time Anakin was the age Obi-Wan was when he had experienced his first rut, Obi-Wan was sure Anakin was going to be an alpha.
But the day never came. Which was no skin off Obi-Wan’s back. If anything it was a blessing. Anakin was surly enough already, he didn’t need alpha hormones pumping through him to make Obi-Wan’s life harder.
Now, though, Obi-Wan wished he had. He wished that Anakin had presented as an ornery, hormonal alpha back then. Or even an omega. Obi-Wan would have gladly sent his Padawan off to the designation-center of the Halls of Healing, where first-time ruts and heats and everything else under the Coruscant-prime sun was dealt with by professionals.
Instead, he was the only one around to deal with Anakin.
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan called again. It felt useless to keep checking on Anakin’s state, when he couldn’t do anything to help him. But that’s not true, he unwillingly told himself.
When Anakin looked up, it was a slow raise of his head this time in contrast to the quick snapped responses that he’d been giving before. Obi-Wan’s heart sank—Anakin wasn’t even displaying rut-typical aggression anymore, only near-delirium. And if Obi-Wan remembered his Padawan health classes correctly, that meant things were getting dire.
Obi-Wan had always thought the beginnings of presentation were uncivilized, so much that it gave him anxiety before he had even presented. The thought of having Qui-Gon march him down to the Halls and stick him in a room filled with miscellaneous sex toys, lubricants, and teethers always made his stomach turn. Though, when the day actually came, he was too out of it to feel embarrassed.
He briefly wondered if Anakin had the capacity to even be embarrassed right now. The boy had been before; doing everything in his power to cover the persistent erection under his robes. This had been followed by mindless hostility—snapping at every word Obi-Wan said, rumbling out unusual growls while Obi-Wan attempted to check his temperature, even gnashing his teeth at one point. Eventually, Anakin began to sway with each step, and then, to Obi-Wan’s horror, sank to his knees and hadn’t gotten up since.
After a moment, Anakin broke the brief eye contact, and Obi-Wan’s gut rolled with anxiety. Attempts at intimidation was a presenting alpha trademark—making prolonged eye contact with another alpha should’ve made Anakin bare his teeth, try to lunge. No reaction was a bad sign — and the willing surrender of dropping his gaze first was enough to make Obi-Wan shift up from where he sat several feet from Anakin, and walk on his knees over to him.
As he got closer, his headache worsened. Anakin’s scent clogged his nostrils and made him lightheaded.
When he made it to Anakin’s side, Obi-Wan waited a moment, desperately hoping the younger man would catch a whiff of his scent and do something, anything. But there was no reaction, only short, pained whimpers.
Obi-Wan reached out, placing a gentle hand on Anakin’s bicep, feeling it shake. “Anakin,” he tried to keep his own tremble from his voice, “I need you talk to me.”
Anakin groaned, the sound of it muffled where his face was laid in his crossed arms.
Moving his hand, Obi-Wan brought it to the younger mans forehead, and a chill ran down his spine in sharp contrast to the sweltering heat coming off Anakin. Desperate, he risked a hold to Anakin’s hair and tugged his head up, fret rising when once again there was no resilience. He tried to force him to focus his gaze, but Anakin’s blue eyes were glazed over. “Anakin, please,” Obi-Wan begged, rattling his head, then letting it go to grab him by the biceps and shake him some more.
Anakin slumped against his grip, going lax, and Obi-Wan lowered his upper body to the ground as gently as he could. For a moment, he stared at Anakin’s now closed eyes. They weren’t even flitting about behind his lids. With an unsteady hand, he reached for Anakin’s pulse in his neck—a check on his heart rate and one last attempt to raise him out of this undignified half-coma. If there was anything to stir Anakin’s hindbrain, it had to be the press of another alphas touch to his neck, his most vulnerable place.
Under his fingers, he felt the heart beat of a rabbit, and felt his own kick up in response. He won’t make it, he realized.
Unless… Obi-Wan’s gaze slid down past where Anakin had torn his robes open to escape the burning heat of himself, to the place where his trousers were tented. Obi-Wan winced in sympathy; even through the black, he could see where Anakin’s cock was leaking and darkening the fabric.
It can’t be—that bad, he told himself. Omegas do it all the time.
You’re no omega, the baser part of him growled. His head throbbed.
Obi-Wan glanced up at his former Padawan’s young, pained face again. Now there were tears running down it.
For him, though, Obi-Wan thought, desperately, For him I could be.
Immediately, he felt his canines ache in his mouth, No, no, no. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t… natural. Obi-Wan fought against his own instincts. Never before had he let his secondary gender control his feelings, actions, decisions. He couldn’t start now—not with Anakin on the line.
Still, trepidation ran through him. He had never… done that.
Obi-Wan knew alphas that liked to be — taken, he squirmed — existed. He knew it was possible. But not once in his life had he himself felt even tempted to try it. Since he was seventeen he’s been perfectly content bedding and topping soft, sweet, willing omegas. Wet and open, tight and moaning.
He imagined it the other way around, and clenched his ass in discomfort. Perhaps there’s another way, the alpha in him reasoned, recoiling at the imagined scenario.
Next to him, Anakin rolled to his side and let out a choking sob.
If there was any part of Obi-Wan that could overpower his inner alpha, it was the part of him that was a Master. Not a Jedi Master. Anakin’s Master.
Steadying his resolve, Obi-Wan reached for his belt. “It’s alright, Anakin. I’m going to—“ he swallowed, “I’m going to take care of it.” He didn’t even know if Anakin could hear him at this point.
Anakin continued to cry on the ground, and Obi-Wan began to tear at his own clothes, until he was naked. After slight deliberation, he slid his boots back on as well. He sifted through his pile of discarded clothing until he was retrieving the tube of bacta from his belt.
He stared at it a moment, before looking back at Anakin. His clothes first? Or…? Obi-Wan looked at the sky in helplessness. Take off my Padawan’s clothes or finger my virgin, alpha asshole first? Letting out a miffed growl, Obi-Wan rolled over and laid on his robes. Another glance at Anakin; mewling in pain with his eyes closed just as before. Still, Obi-Wan took the cap off the bacta and said, “Don’t look.”
He barely recognized his voice—mostly because it wasn’t his. It was his rarely used, overly-aggressive alpha voice. That had absolutely no affect on Anakin, currently.
Opened bacta now in hand, Obi-Wan frowned. Did he put it on his fingers first or his asshole? Did it matter? He heard Anakin sniffle miserably.
“I suppose it doesn’t”, Obi-Wan grumbled to himself, before messily squirting some onto his index finger. Feeling awkward, he reached down between his legs, but quickly realized the angle was all wrong. His cheeks flamed and his muscles twinged, but he gripped one leg in his free hand and pulled it up toward his chest, exposing himself. He grimaced, feeling the air on him and causing his asshole to flex.
Again, Obi-Wan brought his wet finger down and gingerly spread it on himself, feeling the furled muscle twitch. He thought of all the times he’d done this to an omega with their own slick and tried to mimic that. The alpha in him rioted, They were already wet and loose and wanting.
The only thing Obi-Wan wanted was for Anakin to live. So, he applied pressure until the tip of his finger was sinking into himself.
Strange, he thought. But at least it doesn’t hurt. He looked over at Anakin, at the intimidating bulge. Yet.
He sunk his finger in further, it wasn’t that bad. It didn’t feel good. But, he could stand this. For Anakin. Feeling more assured, he pulled out and winced at the drag of it, his legs twitching in instinct to close. More bacta, more bacta.
This time, he squeezed it out messily between his legs, then used his fingers to spread it around while he stared at the sky, feeling wet and cold and vulnerable. Flayed out and oddly stupid. For him, he reminded himself, using Anakin’s pained sounds as fuel to push his finger back inside himself and back out again. The added bacta soothed the dry drag, and he let out a relieved sigh as he worked his digit in and out a few times, prodding it in different directions, not quite sure what to do. Shortly, he was bracing himself for another, grimacing as his asshole stretched to accommodate the new intrusion. It still wasn’t painful— but still very, very strange. Obi-Wan scissored his fingers, pulling at the rim of himself and feeling the give of it get easier. He worked at himself clumsily until he could thrust his two fingers in and out without resistance—physically, at least. His mind was still repelling the idea of doing this, telling him that he was an alpha, he couldn’t.
His hindbrain was biting and snapping at himself. He stilled his fingers and shot another look at Anakin’s erection. A wiser man would go for three fingers, but Obi-Wan was pushing his limits of vulnerability; naked and belly up in the middle of the outdoors with his fingers in his asshole. Not to mention Anakin’s limit of time left. He slid his fingers out, squirming at the uncomfortable sensation.
After moving closer to Anakin, he didn’t provide words of comfort as he stripped him. It was difficult, with the way the other man was practically dead weight at this point, but he managed to maneuver Anakin this way and that, rolling and lifting and tugging until they were equally naked. Boots included.
Now that Anakin’s erection was out, he noticed it wasn’t as big as his own. Well, it wouldn’t be if Obi-Wan was hard—but he wasn’t. His cock hung between his legs, soft, as he straddled the delirious other man. Still, Anakin was large, as most alphas were.
He made sure their bodies did not touch. “Anakin,” he attempted to rouse the other man. Nothing. Sighing, he slapped Anakin’s cheek a bit, adding more power behind the hits as he got no reaction. His hindbrain took pleasure in it, smugness rolling around in his gut for a moment before Anakin stirred.
“Anakin!” Obi-Wan said again, grasping his face in both hands and willing him to open his eyes.
When he did, Obi-Wan realized it might have been better to keep them shut. Now, he felt almost violated as Anakin’s drunk-looking eyes took in the sight before him.
“Master…?” Anakin slurred, barely understandable.
“I’m— It’s—“ Obi-Wan floundered. Anakin didn’t seem alarmed, and Obi-Wan was almost positive he wasn’t really registering what was happening. Still, he had to try very hard to resist the temptation to cover his cock. “I’m going to…” He tried to speak, and failed again. His lack of control of himself was more irritating than anything. You’re an alpha, he told himself. Act like one.
Obi-Wan placed one hand on Anakin’s chest, the hummingbird speed of it making him steel his resolve even more. “I’m going to fuck you,” Obi-Wan said, more for himself than for Anakin, whose eyes were once again closed, but no longer leaking tears. He reached behind himself blindly, and flinched when he knocked against Anakin’s cock. Closing his own eyes, he gripped it, lip curling at the wet slide of it, and maneuvered it and himself until the tip was pressing at his asshole, all gummy and not right not right not right.
Gritting his teeth, Obi-Wan forced himself, trying to relax against the pressure, and finally yelping when the tip popped in. For a moment he froze, eyes wide as his hole spasmed, unused to the stretch. His fingers had taken away most of the pain, but the unusual too-full feeling left a bad taste in his mouth. Too-full. This is just the tip.
The breath leaving him was shaky, and he closed his eyes as he bore down, trying to get it over with. The quicker it was all the way in, the quicker Anakin would finish, and the quicker this would all be over. And Obi-Wan could lick the wounds of his alpha pride.
As he managed to sink himself down another inch, chills ran up his spine, feeling icy and hot at the same time, like running a hand under heated water after being out in the cold. The feeling was confusing, and he pressed both hands to Anakin’s chest, while his own heart pumped so brutally he swore he could feel it where he was stretched around Anakin — squeezing the younger mans cock in thumping rhythm. Under his palms, he could feel Anakin’s heart still pounding like he had just run a marathon.
Curling his lip in queasy determination, Obi-Wan forced himself down further, letting out a squawk when his ass was stretched wider, to the point that the feeling was no longer only uncomfortable because he was an alpha, but because it was too much.
Obi-Wan felt all the moisture in his mouth dry up as his legs began to tremble. I have to, I have to, he thought, gums throbbing and hindbrain gnashing while he pushed himself down further, further, until —
“Ah!” Obi-Wan gasped, eyes flying open. Anakin had pressed up against something inside of him that made him stare blankly in front of him, frozen, panting. After a moment, the startle left him, and he forced himself to relax, once again sinking down and —
“Shit,” he whispered, as the spot was brushed again. Squeezing his eyes shut, Obi-Wan tried to control his breathing. The alpha in him was clawing at his insides, but it felt… it felt…
Suddenly, his hips were being taken by a harsh grip, and when he snapped open his eyes he was met with the sight of Anakin below him, eyes wide and bloodshot, but still glazed over; brows furrowed and breathing through his mouth. Obi-Wan could see his pointy canines — he looked possessed.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warned, pushing his hands down onto the chest below him, trying to keep the younger alpha grounded.
In response, he got one snap of Anakin’s teeth in rebellion, before he was being pulled off Anakin’s cock.
Fuck, fuck. It burned like fire, the drag of it ten times worse than when his single, dry finger had done it. Anakin tossed him to the side, and on instinct, Obi-Wan attempted to close his legs and sit up, ready to wrestle Anakin back to the ground and finish the job. But Anakin was younger, and quicker, and in rut. He lunged, manhandling Obi-Wan until he was face down in the grass, hands scrambling at the dirt.
“Anakin, Anakin!” Obi-Wan thrashed, kicking his legs as Anakin bullied his way between them from behind, silent. Hands groped at his ass, and Obi-Wan felt tears spring to his eyes as his mind spun. Being in control while fucking himself on Anakin’s cock was one thing, being pinned and mounted by another alpha was something else; humiliating.
Fight him, kill him, one part of him said. Let him, you must, said another.
When he felt the tip of Anakin’s cock nudge his asshole once more, he swallowed. It’s Anakin. He let his eyes unfocus, and tried to relax against the breach.
Which was mostly fruitless; with one overzealous snap of Anakin’s hips, he was buried in Obi-Wan to the hilt.
“Holy shit, holy shit,” Obi-Wan mouthed silently to the ground, feeling outside of his own body, but brought back in as Anakin dragged himself out hastily and thrusted in once more, then again and again, until Obi-Wan’s temple was dragging across the grass, back and forth, as he was fucked into aggressively. The sound of Anakin’s balls slapping against him made him scrape dirt under his fingernails. As it went on, the pain faded and he got used to it. It’s the shock, his mind tried to reason.
Then, Anakin was gripping his hips once more, nails digging in, and forcing Obi-Wan back onto his thick cock in time with his thrusts.
Involuntarily, a growl came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth as he was maneuvered, forced up on elbows, helpless to Anakin’s clawing grasp. Obi-Wan’s inner alpha was starting to rise it’s hackles, but then —
“Oh, Gods,” Obi-Wan sputtered out, as the cock inside him pressed against that spot again. Once more, his eyes bulged and his stomach turned.
Then, it was happening again. Anakin’s cock dragged against that spot, and Obi-Wan spiraled. Every thrust was like a punch to his gut. His hands balled into fists on the ground as stars sparked in his vision. No, no, no, he lamented. This isn’t — I’m not —
Behind him, Anakin growled.
I’m an alpha. I’m an alpha, Obi-Wan thought frantically, as his toes curled and he felt himself getting hot.
Another harsh thrust, and Obi-Wan let out a shaky moan against his will. He immediately snapped his jaw shut, horrified.
Unfortunately, the sound seemed to spur Anakin on; the younger man pushed harder, pistoning in and out rabidly. The tears sprung to Obi-Wan’s eyes again as his ass just took it, accepted it, swallowed Anakin’s length again and again while he laid there and let him.
Like an omega, his mind supplied.
He looked under himself — he was hard.
“No,” he whispered, his body rag-dolling with Anakin’s movements.
The spot inside Obi-Wan got punched again, assaulted by Anakin’s big, alpha cock. He felt his eyes cross a little, and let them flutter shut as he relaxed against the ground.
For him. It’s for him, he told himself, trying to give into the rhythm, as he was stretched over and over again — insides feeling like they were being rearranged. His ass was putting up no resistance anymore, letting Anakin slam into him balls deep.
Anakin let out another throaty sound, rearranging his grip and tugging Obi-Wan back even more aggressively. Obi-Wan let out another mortifying sound, and shoved his forehead into the dirt. His hips twitched back.
No, he tried to tell himself.
The new angle made Obi-Wan’s legs tremble, that spot that made his vision cross being pounded relentlessly, and soon he was unable to bite back the sounds — his mouth hung open and he let out a little moan every time he felt Anakin’s balls slap against him.
I’m — I’m an alpha. Drool spilled in the grass below him as he stared down between his own legs, watching his ignored cock leaking and bouncing as he was fucked. He fought against the pleasure curling up his spine, trying desperately not to give into the feeling of the fat cock slamming into him, filling him up perfectly, stretching him so good.
Against his own volition, he pressed back onto the alpha cock inside him, and whined. Anakin slammed into him harder, making him dizzy, making his cock throb. The no, no no’s, in his head were getting quieter and quieter. Every time their hips met, Obi-Wan was a little more confused — what was wrong? Why hadn’t he wanted this? This was good. This is perfect, he thought deliriously, as he let the alpha use him.
Fucking himself back wantonly, Obi-Wan gasped when he felt the alpha’s knot begin to form, pressing at his hole with every thrust. He moaned and leant into it, trying to relax his body, wanting to take it, wanting it in his hole.
From above, spit drooled onto him, sliding down his back and toward his hole, and Obi-Wan let out a mewl. The alpha kept up his rabid pace, shoving his knot against him, making him cry out at the tease of the big bulge.
Soon, it was popping in, big and hot, and making Obi-Wan come so hard he screamed.
Hysterically, he twitched, fucking back and crying out, trying to shove it deeper, trying to get away from it. The squeeze of his hole around it made him whine and pant. So big, so fucking big. I’m so full. When he felt the alpha shudder and curl his body, he shook with anticipation, and then the hot, sticky feeling of being stuffed with come was making his eyes roll back in his head and his cock pulsed again, rolling into another orgasm — one that only made him leak, not shoot.
The alpha grumbled, then laid his weight over Obi-Wan, pushing him down into the grass further, cock sliding through his own mess. Obi-Wan quivered on his knot, clenching his hole around it.
After a few minutes, his bliss faded, and he registered Anakin had fallen asleep on top of him.
Anakin.
Body freezing, Obi-Wan’s gut rolled. This was Anakin. Anakin was inside of him, had knotted him.
And he had moaned like a whore for it, Obi-Wan realized with mounting horror. He had shoved himself back on his former Padawan’s cock — wailed on his knot.
No, no, no, Obi-Wan rioted in his head. I’m not — I’m an alpha. I didn’t — It was just… Suddenly, the feeling of being full was unbearable and discomforting, and he squirmed. It got him nowhere, though, and he was forced to once again settle as Anakin breathed against his neck.
Mind still scrambling, Obi-Wan managed to center himself enough to reach back and press a finger to Anakin’s neck, trying for his pulse, pleading that he hadn’t humiliated himself for nothing.
As he did, Anakin’s hand came up and caught his wrist in a crushing grip. Obi-Wan felt his tired hackles rise when Anakin growled at him. Even as it happened, he felt swift relief at the display. Anakin was alright. Anakin would live. Obi-Wan had done what he had to do.
And now it was over.