Chapter Text
He found Anakin in one of the old mechanic bays in the lower levels of the Temple, surrounded by mechanical parts.
“I brought you lunch,” Obi-Wan said. His words sounded hollow and pathetic even to his own ears, but he could think of nothing else to say. Some negotiator he was.
He set the plate down well clear of Anakin’s workspace, before noticing another plate of food, still warm from the same refectory he had just come from.
Ahsoka, he realized. No one else knew of Anakin’s habit of missing meals when he got deep into a project. And judging by the dozen empty plates scattered around the room, she’d been bringing Anakin meals for days now.
“I’ll just—”
Obi-Wan twisted aside just in time to avoid the arc of energy spiraling out of Anakin’s current project. It left a smoking pockmark in the durasteel wall behind him.
“Oops,” Anakin said, not even looking up from his work.
“Anakin, I know you’re hurting, but I don’t know how many more times you want me to apologize,” Obi-Wan said. “What do you want from me, Anakin?”
Finally, Anakin looked up at him, his too intense stare pinning him in place. “Can you promise me it won’t happen again?”
Obi-Wan flinched. They both knew he couldn’t promise that. How could he? His duty was to the Jedi, first and foremost. To the defense of the galaxy and its people, to the Republic, to the trillions of lives scattered across the stars.
“You know I can’t.”
“Then you aren’t sorry,” Anakin said with a sneer.
“Please, Anakin—”
“Enough, Obi-Wan!” Anakin slammed his project down. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses or your useless fucking platitudes! I’ve had enough of duty and lies and you putting everything else in the galaxy before me! Because guess what, Obi-Wan? I’m not some emotionless fucking droid! What we had was important. It mattered more to me than—" Anakin scowled. “And you clearly didn’t give a damn about any of it. And for that, I won’t ever forgive you. So, get out.”
Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it. What was he supposed to say to that? Anakin clearly wasn’t ready to let this go.
He may never be ready.
But the gaping door behind him would only lead back to his empty quarters. There’d be no robes to pluck off the floor and hang on the hanger seemingly reserved for Anakin. No boots to neatly align at the door. No sweet spices billowing out from the kitchen whenever Anakin itched to test a new recipe out on Obi-Wan.
No Anakin.
Not ever again.
“Please, Anakin, I’ll—” Obi-Wan swallowed. But what other option was there? Any promises Obi-Wan made would mean nothing alongside the vows he had already dedicated his life to. “I’ll do anything.”
That, at least, seemed to get Anakin’s attention. But it was a cold, calculating stare that bored its way into Obi-Wan’s skull.
This would be a test then.
“Suck my dick.”
“What?” The word slipped out before Obi-Wan could stop it, but he knew full well what Anakin said. Anakin knew it too.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth, some explanation on the tip of his tongue – it all died out as Anakin shoved past him, no longer willing to wait for Obi-Wan’s pathetic excuses,but Obi-Wan caught his arm.
Anakin wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be – especially when the lovely Padme was certainly waiting for him. But if this was what it took to earn Anakin’s trust, or at least get Anakin to look at him with something other than hatred, Obi-Wan would not let the chance slip away.
He lowered himself to his knees before him, mindful of the twinge of weakness in his left from Dooku’s lightsaber strike.
Anakin didn’t stop him.
Obi-Wan reached for Anakin’s belt. It unclipped easily enough and Obi-Wan set it aside carefully, taking a moment to try and still his shaking hands.
He looked up at Anakin’s unreadable expression. Not even a nod of encouragement, but Obi-Wan couldn’t stop yet.
He pushed Anakin tunics aside until he reached the drawstrings of his leggings. Obi-Wan pulled the knot apart and glanced up again, but Anakin’s expression remained unmoved.
That was fine. They had seen each other naked before – such was the nature of war and close quarters, after all.
Anakin’s leggings and small clothes fell to the tops of his boots.
Obi-Wan could no longer raise his eyes, his cheeks inflamed. He couldn’t even look at the cock hanging between Anakin’s legs. Surely, Anakin didn’t actually expect him too—
Obi-Wan willed his hands to steady as he picked up Anakin’s heavy cock.
Still no word from Anakin, but when had Anakin ever done anything by halves? If this was what it took, if this is what he needed, this was what Obi-Wan would give.
He took a slow breath, then extended his tongue to lick it.
The motion itself was not difficult. He repeated the motion of licking and sucking a few times, trying to adjust the oddness of it all.
Until he glanced up to find Anakin staring down at him.
His body froze as Anakin slowly brought his hand up to rest in Obi-Wan’s hair. It felt like encouragement, but his eyes held no warmth, no compassion, and certainly nothing resembling forgiveness.
Oh.
It was too late already. How could he not have seen that? This was just a final humiliation to inflict even a fraction of the pain Obi-Wan caused him. It wouldn’t change anything.
Obi-Wan choked back a bitter sob as he pulled away. He couldn’t do this. He would never be able to give himself to Anakin, to love the way that he did, to allow it to devour him, consume him.
In the end, he would only ever let him down.
Anakin’s fingers tightened in his hair before he could get far.
“Don’t stop,” he breathed.
“Anakin, I—”
“Please, Master. I want to forgive you.”
Finally, there was something other than anger in Anakin’s gaze. Any strength Obi-Wan had, any certainty that they would always end up hurting each other, vanished in an instant. He couldn’t deny him.
He gagged at the first thrust of Anakin’s hips. His throat was not meant for this, his lips already aching, too stretched around his own teeth trying to protect Anakin’s vulnerable cock.
Anakin’s thumb brushed away a tear from his watering eyes.
It felt like forgiveness.
It felt like peace.
He closed his eyes and let Anakin guide the motion, focusing instead on the position of his tongue, the timing of his breaths.
The thrusting grew faster, his gagging only suppressed by years of practice mastering his own body and its reactions.
He expected come to flood his mouth as he felt a crest of Anakin’s sensations.
Instead, the splash of hot liquid splattered across his face and dripped into his beard. It pinned one of his eyes closed and dribbled onto his still outstretched tongue.
He knelt still as Anakin wiped his dick clean across Obi-Wan cheek before tucking himself back into his leggings and righting his tunic.
The kiss on his cheek was hardly more than a brush of lips against skin, but he couldn’t ask for anything more.
“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, barely more than a whisper.
But Anakin was gone.