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The old 2CV had been the bane and the joy of Anakin’s first week of summer. That thing refused to turn on, no matter the amount of work he put into it, no matter how black his hands got at the end of the day. American cars were easier. That one had rested in the barn for probably longer than his mother’s life. Or not quite. But close enough. Qui-Gon had said he used it when he was young, but as he once again tried to just run the motor once, he was starting to think the old man had been toying with his nerves.
The sun was beginning to set behind the nearby trees when he looked outside the barn, and he decided to let the pile of rust rot for a while. Just in case it made it more cooperative.
His hands were still stained when his mother called from the kitchen window. He walked to it, knowing full well what she was going to ask already. There were never enough cherry tomatoes in the summer house to feed the whole lot of people filling it up, days and nights and mornings and afternoons. Yet his mother always came to him whenever someone was taking out the red wine.
« Ani, why don’t you go and get us some tomatoes? »
Sure enough, the old man in the back had brought out a bottle. Anakin had started to associate the popping open of the wine bottle with the green scent on his fingers. Tomato sap filled summer as much as the sun and the naps. There always came a day when he would have to say there were none left and he would have to take his bike to the town to get some more, but luckily for him, that day had not arrived. So his mother was happy, and he was happy, but then again, he had been happy for a few years now.
Stepfathers could do that. Well, some of them. Those with a secondary residence in France and a passion for medieval literature. Luckily for her, Qui-Gon was one of those.
Unluckily for Anakin, he also had quite a lot of friends.
Friends in town and friends in the country, friends out of the country, friends back in America, and even British friends. Tonight’s friend was one of those. Tonight’s friend was supposed to stay for a while. It was okay; Anakin was used to it. Getting acquainted could not be that hard; old men could be fun to talk to. The only thing he hoped for was that the man would not snore. The bedrooms were too close for him not to know when his neighbour turned in his bed, so snoring was something Anakin would not put up with. Well, not without sulking about it to his mother. He wiped his hand on his old pants as he walked, thinking he would get to change before dinner.
But when he came back from the greenhouse with his shirt full of ripe cherry tomatoes, as he had folded up the bottom of it like a bag, Friend was already here. At least his voice was, echoing in the entrance corridor as he emptied his shirt on the kitchen table after using the back entrance of the house.
« Come say hi, Ani! »
He looked at his hands, looked at his shirt, and then at his pants. Well, fuck.
« I’m coming! »
His hands had been freshly washed when he met with Friend. The stranger was smiling at Qui-Gon already when Anakin saw him, and he had been mistaken. That man was not old. Well, not that old. He was even blonder than he was, his hair carefully combed like a professor. Then again, he remembered Qui-Gon saying as much earlier that day. He smiled back.
« Hi, I’m Anakin. »
The man shook it, but Anakin noticed his light eyes following the dark spots of car oil on his shirt. So he added without thinking:
« …And I really need a shower. »
His laugh filled the room, but before he could answer, his mother had started to push him softly towards the stairs and that much-needed shower. There was no negotiation to it, and no one would dare to make Shmi Skywalker look bad in her own house. Not even him. Still, he looked back into the room to see if he could catch Friend’s attention, and maybe, just maybe, he would tell him his name. Pretending to listen had its downsides, and he had gotten maybe a bit too good at it because he had not the slightest memory of being told how he was called.
Disappointingly so, it seemed like he had no attention left to give to anyone but Qui-Gon.
Anakin’s hair was still wet when he came down. When it was damp, it almost reached his shoulders. As he exited the house to sit with everyone at the outside table, Qui-Gon commented on how long they had grown.
Too much, said Mom. Not enough, said Qui-Gon, and Anakin agreed with her but still laughed. That man had hair down to the middle of his back, he was not one to judge. It was the first time their guest talked to Anakin:
« Does it bother you when you work on cars? » and he wondered how he knew. Then he remembered he had been talking for ten minutes with his parents. The man probably knew his whole life down to his shoe size.
« Yeah… I mean no, I tie it up. » which he demonstrated with the hairband he kept around his wrist at all times since his hair had been long enough.
He grabbed his wine glass, raised it and turned to his mother: « Then it’s just right. »
Mom did not argue, not that she liked to argue, but during that dinner she never did seem to disagree with the guest. Probably the charming way he had at finding middle ground everywhere. It was strange to watch. It had also been the only time he had talked to him for the whole evening, forcing him to listen to long talks about medieval manuscripts and old knights he and Qui-Gon seemed to live for.
The guest did not even try to look him in the eye once after that talk, not for two solid hours. Not that it was what he had come here for, but it would only seem polite. If the man cared about anything else other than his shoe size, he was doing a poor job at proving it. Anakin had looked. At the way the man touched his beard when he was thinking, how often he smiled, how softly he grabbed everything on the table. Disciplined.
The only semi-interesting fact gained at the dinner table was the name of the guest : Obi-Wan.
Anakin’s finger ran along the edge of his wine glass to the sound of summer cicadas as the men spoke of Le Morte d’Arthur, and he was asked to bring dessert.
No occasion had ever been seized faster than that one, and Anakin was in the kitchen a second later. The window was open to the voices outside, and the boy looked around the room. Two pies. He was about to scream out through the window to ask his mother which one he was supposed to bring when a voice came from the kitchen door:
« Your mother told me you should bring the tarte Tatin. »
Anakin turned back from the window to see Obi-Wan behind him, leaning against the doorframe. He mumbled something akin to thanks and picked the right one. The guest was still there, grabbing a stray cherry tomato on a counter nearby, and now he was talking.
« Do you need any help? »
Anakin shook his head, eyes low, almost shyly, and packed his hands full of everything needed. As the man moved to let him pass through the door, the knife fell from his fingers right between them.
« Well, I, for one, think you do. » smiled Obi-Wan, kindly enough, as he got it from the floor. A whiff of his perfume hit the boy when he stood back up, or maybe it was something in his hair. Commenting on it would have been weird, so Anakin did not. Only noting to himself that it was nice. And he walked back to the cicadas and the diner without saying anything but a barely articulated thanks again, his cheekbones warming up slightly. Way to look like an idiot.
That strange, bad mood had not dissipated by the following morning, only leaving some space for the happy fact that Ani’s neighbour was not a snorer. On the contrary, there had been no noise on the other side of the door connecting both of the rooms. Yet when Anakin went downstairs for his breakfast, Obi-Wan was finishing up his with Qui-Gon, who told him his mother had left for the day with a friend.
Anakin rubbed his eyes to try and erase the morning fog and noted how put together the two other men were. Especially Obi-Wan. Who was already fully dressed and combed at 8 in the morning during summer? The boy was still sporting his night pants and tank top as he sat with them and poured himself a giant glass of orange juice his mother had pressed before leaving.
To his right, Obi-Wan looked at him with an amused glint in his eyes when he started drinking the whole thing in one go.
« Oh dear. Keep some room in there for coffee. »
Anakin firmly put down the now empty glass on the table and turned his head to face Obi-Wan, his hand shielding his blue eyes from the morning sun.
« I don’t drink coffee, it tastes disgusting. »
Obi-Wan slowly brought his own cup of coffee to his lips as he studied the boy. As if deeply amused by his morning grumpiness. Qui-Gon raised his nose over the newspaper he was reading, looking at Anakin through his reading glasses.
« Anakin is kinder when fully awake. Do give him a few hours to open up. »
Anakin leaned back in his chair as he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket, deciding he would not answer provocations so early in the day. As he bit into it, the guest was still looking at him.
« I find him perfectly nice so far, especially if he leaves all of the coffee to me. »
The boy smiled as he chewed on his apple and looked at his stepfather with a smile.
« See, I’m perfectly nice. » he said in his sweetest voice, once he had swallowed.
« So far. » added Qui-Gon, lifting up his newspaper in front of his face to cut the conversation short.
Anakin bit down on his apple again, then wiped off the sweet juice on his chin and bottom lip with the back of his hand.
« I’ve been told you needed to get to town later today, » said the British man on his third coffee, pushing a small insect off his cream linen shirt. Anakin nodded, knowing he needed someone to drive him there since he was too young to drive, but he had car parts to pick up and friends to see. « I could drive you if you were kind enough to guide me? »
« Sure, » said Anakin, finishing up his apple. Obi-Wan thanked him right before the two older men left the breakfast table. Anakin watched them both leave, knowing full well his stepfather was running away from cleaning up the breakfast table. But he did not mind. Mornings were the quietest moments of summer, and the fresh wind was hitting his skin just right.
Anakin had skipped lunch just so he could inspect the car well enough to know which parts he needed to get. Having graduated early and gotten into a prestigious engineering programme at 17 did help with the knowledge. Yet he could not help but be frustrated that an old car could resist him that way.
He was wiping his hands off on a rag when someone knocked on the barn’s open door. Obi-Wan, with a pair of sunglasses perched on his face. His beige linen pants matched his shirt so well. Anakin wondered if it was on purpose. But he also knew the man looked like he did everything on purpose.
None of them had needed to talk, and none of them had; Anakin had just followed him to his stepfather’s car. Somehow, talking to Obi-Wan seemed easier when someone else was there. Yesterday evening had felt the same in the kitchen. It felt like no words existed in the English language to speak to him. Or no words interesting enough.
Anakin had watched, amused, as Obi-Wan had grumbled about how he would do his best to remember to drive on the good side of the road. Once again, he had found nothing to say, and he had only laughed. He had never considered himself to be shy. Not that he was especially good at people either, but he never feared looking stupid. Which had often saved his ass when he had tried to pick up girls at school or during the summer.
But when Obi-Wan started to drive, and he drove well, the only thing he could do was look at the fields by the car window.
« Don’t you get lonely all summer, away from your friends? »
Anakin considered it but quickly dismissed the idea with a shrug.
« I have the car, and last year I fixed up the neighbour’s motorcycle too; he has an old Vespa. And I have friends. »
He knew he had sounded defensive on that last part, but Obi-Wan did not seem to hold it against him, keeping his attention on the road. Anakin looked at the way his hands grabbed the wheel, firm and controlled, and noticed just how pale the Englishman was. His own skin was golden already from two weeks in the sun.
« I’ve seen that car; you’d have an easier time teaching a blind bird to fly than making it drivable again. » smiled Obi-Wan, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. Anakin’s index was playing with his opposing thumb when he noticed he had been looking quite enough.
« I like trying. You like old books; I like old cars. » said Anakin absentmindedly, focusing his gaze on the town they were entering.
There had been no time for Obi-Wan to answer, as a child had screamed Anakin’s name right as they were slowing down to park in front of the boulangerie. Said child was the daughter of one of Qui-Gon’s friends he had babysat for a few years. Ahsoka was a loud child, and she was apparently waiting for her mum outside of the boulangerie, which gave her the perfect excuse to wave at him. Anakin rolled his eyes. He liked the kid well enough, but she was loud.
And he was already almost late to join his friends to go to the lake.
« Should I pick you up later? » asked Obi-Wan, but he had said no and that Padmé would probably drive him home. Obi-Wan had not said anything after that, except « see you later, » then.
See you later. Anakin had thought about the words for a bit after he had said his hellos and his goodbyes to Ahsoka. Was he expected to come back before dinner? Because he was almost sure he would not be back until late in the night. No one cared if he came back late, since he did not do it too often. And he was pretty certain that Obi-Wan most of all did not give a shit where he was spending his evening.
Padmé had indeed given him a ride back from the lake on her father’s Vespa, which Anakin had fixed the year prior. It had been the girl’s favourite means of transportation ever since. She went everywhere with it. It was the only Italian thing about her as she was the most French girl Anakin could conceive of.
She was old enough to drive at 22 and had been for a while. Which had made Anakin insanely jealous at first. Then, there had been that awkward summer where he had confessed to having a crush on her, about which she had been kind but quite disturbed. For good reasons. The boy was 14. It was ambitious, at best. It had been his first heartbreak, but as all teenagers do, he had survived it.
They parked in front of his parents’ house late, but given the noise they were hearing from the back of the house, not too late. Padmé followed him inside the house to say hello to his parents and maybe, just maybe, steal some of his mother’s homemade pie. The ride had dried their hair and skin from the lake water but had given them quite the dishevelled look.
Anakin went to say hello to the couple of friends his parents had at the table, all French people he had to give la bise to. Now he did not mind giving cheek kisses to people, but it was time-consuming. Padmé also said hello to Obi-Wan and Anakin could not help but notice the man had answered her in perfect French. Oh. Almost surprising.
Padmé did look pleasantly surprised at his accent, and soon enough Anakin was sitting at the table looking at them converse with ease. He could understand French pretty well himself, but that was on another level. Obi-Wan looked positively enchanted to be able to talk that much. Enchanted. If only he had been that enthusiastic yesterday evening, maybe Anakin would have felt half as interesting as Padmé was probably feeling right now.
He had been staring for a whole minute when the lady to his right kindly whispered to him with a charming French accent of her own:
« Don’t be jealous, Ani. He won’t steal your girl. »
A slightly ashamed smile blossomed on his lips, and he turned to her to tell her that Padmé was not his girl. For good measure and good fun, he added:
« Trust me, I’ve tried. »
To which they both laughed, and Anakin focused on his glass of wine for the remainder of the evening until Padmé left. « He’s so smart, » she said to him, right before she started her Vespa. « Maybe, » said the boy, when he wanted to say: but he drives on the wrong side of the road, he drinks too much coffee, he thinks I have no friends and need help to carry a pie and he makes me feel like I’m too dumb to utter a word in his presence.
Anakin went to bed right away after Padmé had left, without saying goodnight. Shmi would worry about it, and he knew about that. But she would forget eventually. He threw his dirty clothes on the floor and put on some clean underwear before he lay down in his bed to read. He was pissed. And the worst part was not knowing why he was pissed.
But he was pissed.
So pissed that two hours later when someone knocked on his door while he was still reading, he ignored it.
« Anakin, are you awake? » Obi-Wan’s voice.
The light he was reading with was probably showing under his door. Asking if he was awake was politeness at most. They both knew he was. Yet he did not answer. Something warmed up his cheekbones, his temples, and his skin all over. What would the man have to say to him anyway? He did not want to know.
When Obi-Wan’s steps finally moved to his own room, Anakin was still frozen in his bed. And he also knew he was wrong. He entirely wanted to know what Obi-Wan was about to tell him. But now it was too late.
To be good, sulking has to be consistent over an extended period of time; otherwise, the sulker risks being discredited in his bad mood. And thus, even if the sulker himself does not really understand why he feels that way, Anakin had put that thinking to good use and had devoted himself to spending as much time alone as possible. It made it all easier.
The car did not seem fun enough that day, so he had climbed to the attic of the old barn and exited through a window, straight to the roof. Shirtless and only wearing his shorts, his golden skin was drinking up the summer sun while he read his third Marcel Pagnol novel of the summer. Those were his favourite summer reads, for they almost always happened somewhere sunny. It was also a good way to learn some French.
From up there, he could see the whole backyard and even further away in the fields. He could also see some of the house. His bedroom window, Qui-Gon’s office, his shared bathroom with the guest, and Obi-Wan’s bedroom window, among others.
He was just about to change positions on the roof, as one of the tiles was not being nice to his back, when he caught some movement in one of the windows.
Guest bathroom.
Anakin could see well enough from there without being seen if one was not looking for someone on the barn’s roof. Obi-Wan was apparently in the mood for an afternoon shower.
The boy did not even think about fighting the urge to look. Not enough time. As the man was taking off his shirt, Anakin’s eyes went all over his frame. He was lean, strong but less muscular than Anakin, yet with broad shoulders and a hint of golden hair on his chest. Very different from his own body. Not that he had never seen other men’s bodies before. But Obi-Wan’s was different from the male bodies he had seen. Older, for sure. He looked good for a man his age.
To be fair, he did not know how old Obi-Wan was. Over thirty, for sure.
As he propped himself up on his elbows to see better, Obi-Wan took off his pants, and Anakin’s jaw tightened. Oh yeah. That big. He swallowed.
And turned his head towards something else. He wanted to clear his throat. He wanted to move. His breathing had quickened.
He looked one last time to see the water fall all over the man’s face and body and followed it from his hair to the shape of his lower abdomen before he decided it was enough and moved to go back to the attic.
But not without hearing the distinctive noise of something falling down below, behind him. That fucking loose tile.
Well, it would have to wait. He had other things to worry about right now. Namely, as he sat on the dusty floor of the attic, why he was hard in his shorts. The tension in there was visible under the fabric, and Anakin did not want to wonder for how long it had been that way. He just wanted it to go away. And the quickest way to make it go away was to give it what it wanted.
His back went to rest against the wall behind him, and as he was starting to calm his breathing, his hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts and underwear all at once. Anakin’s big hand was warm, but the skin of his erection was even warmer. He was rock hard.
Anakin closed his eyes slowly and started tightening his grip as he moved around it. It was good, only too dry to be perfect. He spat in his hand. And tried to think about the images in the porn magazine he had hidden in his room.
And went back at it, playing with his cock until it was leaking. That was when the images had started to shift in his mind. That was when it went back to Obi-Wan. Now what would Obi-Wan have said if he had found him doing precisely what he was doing when he had knocked on his door last night?
Would he have spat in his hand too and let out that thing that hung heavily between his legs to touch himself at the same time while they looked at each other in the eyes in silence for fear of waking up someone?
Anakin’s moan died in his throat right as he came in his underwear, arching his back against the wall as his free hand went up to grab the bottom of the window. The thought had been in his head for a second, just a second. It had been a flash more than an idea, and it had been enough.
His hand was covered in cum when he regained control of himself. Shit.
Anakin avoided dinner too, pretexting that he was feeling sick and had stayed locked in his room. His mother had worried, he had apologised, and he had run away.
It had been harder to do on the following day, but only because Obi-Wan had not let him. Anakin had been listening by his bedroom window to his stepfather and his friend as they were eating breakfast. Which in itself felt like being a spy in a bad movie.
He had only gone downstairs to eat after thinking they had left, half relieved and half torn over not knowing where Obi-Wan was. Which made no sense. Especially because said Obi-Wan had been sitting right at the breakfast table when Anakin had gone through the door.
The boy froze in place when he noticed. And then he forced himself to sit anyway for fear of looking especially stupid if he just turned back. Obi-Wan looked at him from the first second and at first only said, « Hello, » and Anakin mumbled it back. Without looking at the other man’s face. Only at his orange juice.
« I take it you’re still mad at me? »
Anakin’s hand played with his glass, his face turning into a very genuine image of incomprehension. Still without looking directly at Obi-Wan.
« I’m not mad at you. »
« Would you look at me when you’re talking to me? » Now that was not a question. Anakin raised his eyes and looked. There was no anger there. Only… concern? The boy cleared his throat, but he held Obi-Wan’s gaze.
« Good. Now let’s try again. If you’re not mad, why are you avoiding me? »
« I’m not, » but it sounded so false it hurt. Anakin felt it in his lips when the words passed them.
« Look. I understand I may have made you uncomfortable when I spoke to your girlfriend, and I know how young men think… » Anakin cut him short almost immediately.
« Padmé’s not my girl. It’s not about that. »
Since he was forced to look, Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan was wearing the same shirt he had been wearing on his arrival a few days earlier. Dark blue. It looked nice with his eyes.
« Then what is it? »
The young man’s eyes turned back to his glass this time. He was not angry, but he sure looked the part. Well, maybe he was angry, but mostly at himself. One could not just say: I’ve been avoiding you because I don’t understand what I feel around you.
« I don’t have to like you. » had been his solution. And he had hated it right away.
There had been a silence. And Obi-Wan had picked up his coffee cup from the table to drink once.
« No, you don’t have to. Just don’t make your mother sad about it by missing dinner. »
Now that felt like the fuck-up of the century. Wrong on every level. Anakin’s heart was beating in his throat when Obi-Wan started to leave the table, and he closed his eyes for a second as he asked the man to wait.
Obi-Wan did, sitting back in his chair, and Anakin looked back at him. The light wind blew some of his hair over his face, and he pushed it away.
« Have you been to the lake already? »
He knew his face was red. He knew he was blushing. But he also knew he had been a little bitch, and he had to make up for it.
Obi-Wan said no, calm as a breeze.
« I can drive you. » offered the boy.
« You can’t drive. » answered Obi-Wan, as if he was waiting to see where it was all going.
« I can if you don’t tell anyone. »
None of them moved for a second, but Anakin was biting back a smile.
« Fine, » finally said the Englishman. « Tomorrow. I have work today. »
He left with his coffee still in his hand, and Anakin let his smile blossom. And drank his glass of orange juice in one go.
Anakin had found himself spending the remainder of his day roaming around the house at regular intervals. Just to have a quick idea of where Obi-Wan was. If he was truly working as he had said. Which appeared so. He had spent the day with Qui-Gon locked in the office dissecting old texts, and at the end of the afternoon, Anakin had even knocked on the door under the excuse of knowing if they were hungry.
Qui-Gon found himself funny when he said: hungry for knowledge, and Anakin rolled his eyes. And got a quick look at Obi-Wan, glasses on his nose, apparently dissecting a copy of ancient text.
« What’s this one about? » enquired the boy to his stepfather.
« Galehaut, » answered Qui-Gon, inviting him to come nearer and take a look at it. « And of course, Lancelot. »
Obi-Wan took a look at him and gave him space to read the page. Not that he could make sense of it easily.
« Why, of course? » said Anakin, his eyes still grabbing the limited amount of syllables he could recognise.
Obi-Wan was close to him. Probably closer than he had ever been. Their shoulders almost touched when the professor answered.
« They were quite… What’s a good word? » he paused to think, and his friend finished his sentence for him.
« Intertwined. »
« Intertwined is a good word indeed, » confirmed Obi-Wan.
He smelled like the day he had arrived, that green smell. Rosemary? Lemon? And what the hell did intertwined mean? Anakin looked at the man next to him interrogatively while his stepfather was leaving the room to go to dinner.
« Intertwined? »
« They were quite fond of each other. They were buried together. » answered Obi-Wan, his voice low and soft, as if recounting a precious story. Which was probably the case, or at least it looked like it was important to him.
Only during dinner did Anakin think about it again. From the limited amount of knowledge he had about Lancelot, the guy surely seemed to be quite fond of Guinevere. Why would he end up buried next to a king that was not even his king? Surely, even without drinking wine that night, he found all of those ancient ways too damn complicated.
That night, Anakin had listened to Obi-Wan as he had gone to sleep. Trying to decipher what each sound was. What action it was. Was he taking off his shirt now? His pants? Did he keep his underwear to sleep? Or did he sleep naked? What did he smell like when he did not wear that perfume of his?
Thinking about it had been quite the bad idea in itself, given how his body had a tendency to overreact to anything about that man. That man who was probably twice his age. Anakin closed his eyes and forced other images into his mind. No way he would play the jerking off about my stepfather’s friend game again. Not before what he had to go through tomorrow.
Anakin had been waiting near the car since noon. Not just near, he was literally sitting inside of it when Obi-Wan finally showed up. The younger one had already prepped a bag with a towel and a book for himself, a book that he had already started reading, and he was not surprised that the professor had one too. In fact, it was the sound of Obi-Wan throwing said bag on the backseat that had brought him to reality and out of his book.
The passenger door next to him opened to let in the man in his dark blue swimming shorts, his sunglasses on, and a new linen shirt. At least, one Anakin had not seen yet.
Funny enough, he noticed the boy as he started the car without saying anything yet, his swimming shorts were also blue. Not that it had any type of importance.
Anakin drove faster than Obi-Wan, probably faster than he should have, and he could sometimes see the man tense up right next to him when he took a turn too fast. As the little shit he knew he was, he laughed about it.
« I’m training you for the French roads; you’ve got to be ready for them. » said Anakin, pushing the car faster on a straightforward road.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and swore something about Jesus. Anakin noticed the man’s thigh muscles were quite tense too. Probably because his shorts were so… Well… short.
« I’m pretty sure if someone’s trying to kill me right now, it’s you, not the French. »
Oh, he did not like the speed. He truly did not like the speed. Not that Anakin would slow down about it.
« Oh, I’m not trying to kill you. » he said, that bitch of a smile still on his lips. « Trust me, you’d know. »
Maybe to slow him down, maybe because he was fearing for his life, right when they had reached a stop sign, Obi-Wan had put his hand on Anakin’s thigh. Just for a second. Until they had stopped entirely, then he had taken it off. And started to speak to Jesus again.
Only Anakin had then entirely forgotten what he had been doing the second that hand had ended up on his thigh. Now why was the afternoon so fucking warm?
He could still feel it, every finger on his leg.
« Anakin? »
« Yes, yes, sorry. »
The car had started moving again. Slower. Anakin’s heartbeat had been doing the opposing thing and had only gotten faster. He worked on his breathing, knowing full well that if the hand had stayed just a second longer, he would have had to deal with harder consequences.
Luckily for him, the lake was close enough. He had chosen to park back at a more remote location, just in case someone he knew would be around. Not that he did not want to be seen. Or maybe he did. There was not enough neurones in that brain of his to makeup his mind. Too much heat around. Too much hands.
That or he was lying to himself.
Obi-Wan had grabbed both of the bags without asking, pushing down Anakin’s inside of his as he exited the car. Only slowing down when he got a look at the book the boy had brought with him.
« Pagnol? » a rhetorical question Anakin answered with an affirmative sound, while he guided them to the most discreet area he knew of. « Manon des sources is a good one. I like it better than the first one. »
Anakin turned his head to look at Obi-Wan, slowing down his walking.
« You’ve read Pagnol? »
« Sure. All of them. What, did you think it was not ancient enough for me? »
There was a smile on Anakin’s face, one that did not say yes but did not say no either. Instead, he just started to take off his shoes upon reaching the water. Vegetation was dense around that area, trees gave shade, and it was still early enough in the afternoon for the place to be quiet.
« You’re the one who said ancient, not me. » said Anakin, looking at the other putting down the bag on a nearby stone. He was almost vibrating with anticipation just at the thought of Obi-Wan unbuttoning that shirt. Stupid, really, he had already seen what was underneath. Not that close.
« Everyone’s ancient to you, you’re seventeen. » down went the first button, then the second, then all of them, and the fabric was down to the floor in an instant. Anakin almost forgot to answer, but he remembered to take of his own shirt and throw it nearby.
And he looked. Worse, Obi-Wan looked back.
« I don’t know, how old are we talking about? »
Obi-Wan entered the water first, despite being the guest. He truly seemed like he never hesitated about anything. Never thought too hard about things. It was maddening, who was still waiting for an answer.
« Thirty-three. »
Anakin took the information, and entered the water after Obi-Wan, until they were both submerged at the waist. And he pushed some water in the other man’s direction, as if to push any type of button he could think of, just because Obi-Wan had been looking at something else. He wanted the eyes on him alone. He had only let him roam around for a couple of minutes, to get acquainted with the place.
« I didn’t mean it, you know. What I said about not liking you. »
There was a laugh and the other man submerged himself in the water, only to reappear at the surface completely drenched, pushing his hair back. And then finally gave his attention back to Anakin, who had started swimming a bit closer.
« I know. »
Maddening.
« Right, you know everything. » said the boy, emerging from the water right in front of Obi-Wan. His heart in his throat. But it was not him who bridged the contact gap. It was the man’s hand who pushed Anakin’s hair off of his face. Close. Close. Too close. Too naked. Neither Anakin nor his body waited for an answer before speaking again. « There’s a quote I like, in my book. »
Anakin would have been incapable of saying when that moment had started. Maybe it had started on the car. Maybe three days ago. Obi-Wan’s mouth was so close he could have kissed it, but the hand now on the back of his neck prevented him. It said don’t move, don’t try it. Anakin looked at the nose, at the beard, at the older man’s lips. At the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from years of smiling.
« Si tu ne me veux pas, ou je meurs ou je deviens fou. »
If you don’t want me, I’ll either die or go crazy. Anakin had whispered it. He had breathed it out. It came from his body before his mind. Because one of them was stronger than the other. And looking at Obi-Wan he could tell his eyes were clearly on his lips. He licked them.
The hand on the back of his neck loosened its grip. All of that had been but a second.
And he was pressing his mouth against Obi-Wan’s, needy and warm, surprised only at the feeling of his beard but nothing else. And what he had felt when the man had let his tongue join. The hand was around his throat now, not tight but supporting. He was not conscious enough to know his own fingers were holding to the man’s forearm.
He only knew to bring himself closer to the source, right as he opened his mouth to taste more. Slowly. He had never been so obscenely kissed before. Never with such hunger. A controlled, dominant hunger that would take only what it wanted when it wanted.
It went on for long enough for Anakin to lose himself, moaning out of frustration when Obi-Wan broke it.
The man’s lips were redder than before when they opened back their eyes. Anakin knew his were certainly too. There was a shared lack of oxygen between the two. Anakin did not mind. But as he went in for a second kiss, Obi-Wan stopped with his hand against wet skin.
« Don’t. I shouldn’t have. »
No, no, no, no, no. It was even worse than not having it, now it had been given it once.
« Please. »
Not now that everything suddenly made sense. Anakin felt something between anger and panic when the other man walked around him to get out of the water. Obi-Wan did not face him when he answered.
« I can’t do that to your mother. »
Now that was not I don’t want to, which would have been the only reason Anakin would have stopped, instead, he closed his eyes and tried to calm down, but felt something strangely familiar taking control of his body. Smart mouth.
« Fine, do it to me then. »
No answer, only the drenched shape of Obi-Wan’s body exiting the water. That body he wanted against his more than he had ever wanted any other. That body that had wanted him and he had felt it.
Coward, he thought.
Said coward waited for him to get out of the water, but the boy had to stay submerged for now. For obvious reasons.
« Give me a minute, alright. »
He said, drowning his hand under the water to try and make his dick less visible.
Obi-Wan had the gall to laugh about it, but he certainly did not stop looking. Anakin decided here and then that he hated the man. But god, did that asshole look good with his shorts falling just low enough for Anakin to remember what was underneath.
The ride home had been quiet, but not as bad as Anakin had feared. If anything, he was the quiet one. Obi-Wan had just acted as if nothing in particular had happened, even making comments on his reckless driving.
Take the wheel while I suck your cock, we’ll see who’s speeding, wanted to answer the boy. But once again, he did not. Instead he got a mental image that tortured him only. Brilliant. Not that he would know what to do with Obi-Wan’s cock if he had access to it. He just knew he wanted it. And he was acutely aware that he did not have it.
Which he considered a temporary state of affairs as far as he was concerned.
Anakin had done one thing and one thing only upon arriving at the house : he had gone to the guest bathroom. Then he had taken off his swimming trunks, to hop under the shower. Only then had he noticed the beige linen shirt Obi-Wan had left there after wearing it the previous day.
He grabbed it, and brought it to his face. There was still perfume there, but not only perfume. Him. It smelled like him.
It would have been a like to say he had jerked off in the shower while smelling Obi-Wan’s shirt and muffling his voice in the fabric.
Because he had not done it in the shower, he had done it in his bed after his shower.
One of his friends had called around six asking if he wanted to go see the fireworks in a nearby village, and Anakin had said yes. Anything to get out of that house. To get away from the fact that he was indeed, going to go crazy soon.
Shmi had almost said no when he had asked her as she was resting in the garden. He did not blame her. Anakin had been almost invisible for the last days. And he felt guilty, but he felt more frustrated than guilty.
« Is it because of Obi-Wan? » she asked, with genuine concern in her voice. « You don’t seem to like him very much. »
« No, no, I like him. I just… Don’t think we have much to say to each other most of the time. » lied Anakin. Badly. Luckily for him, his mother seemed to put it on his lack of self esteem, as her hand rose to touch his cheek. He leaned into the touch, as if the sun was not burning hot outside, as if her hand had been the only source of warmth in a dead winter.
« Well he likes you, he’s always asking what you are doing or with who you are, I think he worries about you too. »
Anakin gave a kiss to his mother’s forehead to appease her worry. That and a hug, it always helped. It also always gave him what he wanted from her, but only because he never asked for too much. Asking for too much was new on his part, and she did not know about it. Only Obi-Wan knew.
But something deep down had stuck to his brain. Obi-Wan was asking where he was and with who? It did sound quite a lot like interest to Anakin. At least, it looked close enough to work with it. Asking for too much did not seem to work, alright. Change of plan.
Five days was a long time for a plan to take effect, and to be honest Anakin had thought it would be easier. But it did bear some fruits. Missing dinners were a thing of the past, and he even made small talk with Obi-Wan when he was there. Of course, he would make a point to always arrive freshly showered with his hair wet since it glued the other man’s eyes to him in a way Anakin had noticed. Of course, when he was working on the car, he would make a point to go shirtless anytime he had an excuse to.
On the first day he had been anywhere but at home during the day, preferring to go to town to grab a few new books and drinks with his friends. Anakin came back late, and caught in his own game, he noticed the professor was not there that night. At the neighbor’s with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, said his mother’s note on the fridge.
So off the the neighbors he went, clean and wearing a suspicious rosemary perfume he had found laying around, smiling his way through the hellos and the bonsoirs, right before he sat between Padmé and her sister Sabé and proceeded to ignore everyone else. Especially Obi-Wan. Not that the girls cared cared, since they had enough to say about town gossip to feed an army and were only too happy to have an ear to feed. Those girls always knew everything about everyone.
On the second day he had let his clothes all over the bathroom just to see if Obi-Wan would dare to complain about it. He had not, and Anakin had found his stuff neatly folded on his bed later that night. Next to a note that said « Don’t be messy. » Anakin had smiled about it, and kept the note in one of his books.
On the third day, he had went inside of the house in his messiest state yet, his hair badly tied up and his chest stained, work pants low on his hips, only his hands clean as he had just grabbed an apple, only to enter the room where his stepfather and Obi-Wan were working.
A polite knock. And his best smile. The boy gave all of his interest to something on Qui-Gon’s desk the other man was just delighted to explain to him. So he had leaned forward on the table, knowing full well Obi-Wan was sitting a few meters behind. Cicadas were loud outside, but not as loud as the looks he felt on his back. Or the one he caught when he turned back without a warning, asking something about the manuscript to Obi-Wan.
The man had been fixated on his ass, and did not bring his eyes up quickly enough to hide it. The glasses were a nice touch to the vision, and Anakin did not repeat his question. He had already had his answer.
On the fourth day Ani had invited enough friends to play volleyball in the backyard. Everyone knew how to play, so it was easier, and only slightly insulting because the girls here always won. His stepfather and Obi-Wan came back from town right when they had, once again, beaten them.
The mess of sweaty, swimsuit wearing teenagers and hormonal mess was fun enough. But Anakin made a point to celebrate by letting Sabé sit over his shoulders, carrying her around for a while with his hands firmly attached to her thighs. Qui-Gon had said he was being a good sport. Obi-Wan’s hands rested inside of the pockets of his linen pants while he had, once again, detailed the view of Anakin’s strong and tanned body under the summer sun. And he did not look pleased one bit.
Restraint broke on the fifth day. Or, really, on the fifth night.
Anakin had gone to bed earlier than the others, and he was about to fall asleep when he heard the door of Obi-Wan’s room open and then close. One again, the boy sat up in his bed and listened carefully to every sound, almost like a rabbit. He had done that almost every night, trying to understand what was coming of, in what order, remembering the man’s body underneath the fabric. The way his chest had felt, body against body in the lake.
But the sounds of fabric did not come. He was acutely aware of how he had been too honest when they were both submerged in water, if you don’t want me, I’ll either die or go crazy. And he was going crazy.
At least it felt this way. There was barely a second of the day when the man was not in his thoughts.
There was a knock on the door separating both rooms, and Anakin felt his heartbeat quicken. He was on his feet a second later, losing in an instant the carefully crafted persona of distance he had built those last days.
Anakin’s fingers opened the door slowly, as silently as possible, fearing the drum beating in his chest was already enough to wakeup his parents.
Obi-Wan’s frame leaned against the doorframe who separated their rooms. He was still wearing his clothes of the day, still perfectly combed, still a man. Still so freaking handsome it hurt. Anakin was already in his underwear, and very much still a mess of hormones. At least, it felt unbalanced that way.
« Did I wake you? » whispered Obi-Wan, his voice soft and low.
Anakin shook his head, his gaze fixated on the man’s face. Moonlight gave him new edges. Harder ones. His favorite ones. The man seemed to hesitate, looking at the bedroom behind him, and then back at Anakin.
« Listen, I don’t know why I came, I’m… »
The words died before they were even breathed out, as Anakin’s hand grabbed the professor’s. Their fingers intertwined, slowly, without anyone resisting it, and the boy pulled just enough to bring him inside the room. There was only a small light to brighten the queen sized bed, the desk, the books, the piles of clothes. Obi-Wan did not say anything, he did not even look around.
The back of Anakin’s legs found the desk Obi-Wan had pushed him against, and he took the excuse for them to collide against each other. There was nothing else that mattered on Anakin’s mind when he seized the man’s face in his large hands like a treasure and kissed it again.
Anakin was almost shaking upon realising how much he had missed it. Needed it. Obi-Wan leaned into the kiss, hands all over the firm waist, and then going up Anakin’s back. It felt like being a piece of marble, sculpted by experienced hands. Only the boy was nowhere near cold. He was burning hot. And it went on for minutes, tasting each other’s mouths, waiting for it to be less dizzying.
But it never happened. Worse, they were close enough to know just how hard they were both starting to get. Linen pants and a pair of underwear were no match for them, and Anakin was not good at waiting. As his hands worked on unbuttoning the man’s shirt, he realised he was pretty bad at it. There was a smile against his lips as they broke the kiss for the first time in an eternity, and Obi-Wan grabbed his hips to press their bodies even closer together.
« So eager, » whispered the man, and Anakin did his best not to groan at the feeling of proximity. He could feel every inch of hard flesh against his own. « Here I was, thinking you had forgotten me. »
There was a lie in those words. Obi-Wan knew perfectly well Anakin had never forgotten. And Anakin did not give a fuck. Soon enough, they were both shirtless, with the younger one still pressed between wood and man.
« Told you. Either I’ll die or go crazy. » repeated Anakin, his forehead against the other man’s, as the shirt fell to the floor. Finally.
Obi-Wan’s hand reached down between their bodies, pushed down his own pants first and then Anakin’s underwear. Not fully; just low enough to free their cocks against each other. Somehow, it was worse than being fully naked. There was a second where Anakin’s breathing stopped, as he tried to take in the feeling of hard flesh against hard flesh.
« You do know the man who says this in the novel is properly crazy? » breathed Obi-Wan between their faces.
I feel properly crazy, thought the boy. And he was kissed out of his trance as fingers ran through his hair and grabbed a fistful, while the other hand wrapped around them both. Those moans, he could not fight. He did not even try.
Their dicks pressed against each other, tightly, and the boy lost track of his mouth soon enough. Obi-Wan took the opportunity to spit generously in his hand, before putting it back around them both. His breathing was getting quicker, and Anakin felt a shiver run through his whole body when the wetness made skin glide against skin. His mouth opened in a silent sound, as Obi-Wan’s voice vibrated into his ears :
« You have to be quiet, Ani, can you be quiet for me? »
Ani. It was the name in Obi-Wan’s mouth that pushed him over the edge embarrassingly fast. His forehead fell to the other man’s shoulder as he did his best to push back whatever noise wanted out when he spilled all over Obi-Wan’s hand and cock.
The man did not stop, if anything, he used the cum to go faster and make sure he had milked the boy fully. Only then, he stopped, although he was still very much hard himself, and his grip on the long blonde hair loosened to a caress.
Anakin tried to regain control of his breathing, but failed to. Probably because of the scent all over the older man’s skin. His tongue went out to taste the salty skin where shoulder and neck met, as he was still slowly recovering from his orgasm. Obi-Wan’s warm skin twitched against his stomach, and the boy smiled.
« Sit on my bed, » whispered Anakin against the now wet skin, feverish, « Please. »
How he had liked the sound of that. On my bed, there was nowhere closer than that. Nowhere Obi-Wan would belong to him more than on his bed. Anakin looked at the man go in the half darkness, drinking in the sight like a traveler in the desert.
The way his strong body had weighed down on the mattress, as the man had pushed off the linen still covering his body. Offering a full glorious view of his nakedness, still glistening with Anakin’s cum, ready to be adored. Obi-Wan leaned back on the bed slightly, spreading his thighs to make space, opening up the view even more.
It was daunting, terrifying, and yet it was the most beautiful thing Anakin had ever seen.
He crossed the gap after throwing his soiled underwear away for one reason only, to kneel behind the man’s strong thighs, his big blue eyes taking in the sight while Obi-Wan’s hand went back to his hair. He liked it that bad, uh.
« Want me to clean it? » asked the man, his voice low and full of badly contained restraint.
The boy shook his head again. God, no. Please, no, he thought. His first taste was slow, almost shy, as he went from base to tip. At first there was only the taste of his own cum. Anakin did not mind it, if anything, he liked the darkness it had brought to the professor’s eyes. His half open mouth when Anakin went at it again, this time with his tongue fully flat against skin, picking up enough fluid for it to show as he reached the leaking tip. The fingers in his hair tightened, and Obi-Wan’s voice was firmer when he said:
« Spit it out. » so the boy did, letting the mix of saliva and cum glide over the throbbing skin. His big blue eyes were not leaving Obi-Wan’s face, and even if he was perfectly aware that he would be unable to take the man in his mouth fully, something about that face told him he would not even need to. Instead, Anakin brought his hand to the cock in front of him, and let his thumb play around the wet tip of it, as he worked on cleaning off the rest of the skin.
Every groan he managed to pull out of the older man’s throat made him arch his back a little more, without even realising. Soon, it was bad enough that he was fully hard again, and Obi-Wan’s knuckles were white in his hair. He had not taken it in his entirety, nor did he understand how anyone would be able to, but the man’s cock was now well into his mouth. Anything his tongue could not reach, his hand wrapped around. The sounds where vulgar.
The boy’s full lips were wet, his tongue warm, his throat eager to swallow when Obi-Wan had reached his collapse point. It was written on his face, that first time Anakin had ever seen him so undisciplined. And he knew he would never forget it.
The man had tried to warn him, as if Anakin did not know the spasms, but no words had made it out. No words meant no orders, no orders meant Anakin would do whatever the fuck he wanted to do. So he pushed his tongue out to give a target, and let his hands do the rest. At that point, what Obi-Wan liked to see, was obvious enough. And surprisingly, Anakin discovered it was precisely what he was made for.
There were a hundred words on the man’s lips, he knew just as much, but none could make it out without breaking the night’s silence with some obscene sound.
Almost all of Obi-Wan’s cum landed where it had to, but not all of it. Some made it to Anakin’s upper lip, or his chin, while he knelt there without moving an inch. He let it spill out on the floor while he worked Obi-Wan to the last drop, as the man was fighting himself to stay silent. Good.
It took Obi-Wan a minute to come back to his senses, and to find Anakin’s face leaned against his thigh, taking in the sight of him like a faithful at an altar. To be fair, it was precisely what Anakin felt like when the man looked at him, and raised his hand to caress his cheek, cleaning off his chin and lips with his thumb. Devotion. Something in the boy knew he had never been as wanted as he was right fucking now.
And it made him feverish.
He was hard again but he did not ask to be touched, not there, not now.
Instead, the boy stood up from between Obi-Wan’s legs, and found his way to the bed with him. In a mess of legs and sweat, of hands and lack of oxygen, their bodies pressed against each other as if they were trying to become one, and neither fought it.
There was no more sex that night, but something closer. Tighter.
Until Anakin woke up the following morning and found his bed suddenly too big. His hand went to search for Obi-Wan’s shape but only found the crisp morning wind entering through the window.
Opening up his eyes only confirmed the fact that the other man had escaped the scene of the crime. That, or the night before had been a dream all along. His gaze caught the shape of his underwear, left on the floor near his desk.
Nope. Not a dream.
For once, he had taken his shower in the morning. For obvious reasons pertaining to the presence of various dried fluids on his body. When he came down and went to greet his mother at the breakfast table, she asked about it, and Anakin was careful not to look anywhere near Obi-Wan when he mumbled his answer.
« Warm night. »
« Obi-Wan said the same thing but I thought it was nowhere as bad as last week. » said his mother, tearing off a piece from her croissant before eating it. Anakin fought the urge to smile, and focused on his orange juice.
A quick look at Obi-Wan to his right taught him he had not been the only one who had to use an excuse for an early shower that day. Their eyes met each other for a second, before Qui-Gon spoke from behind his newspaper.
« Sabé called earlier to ask if you’d be going to the lake this afternoon. »
Anakin shrugged, and started to drink. Right at the same time, he felt something against his leg. Obi-Wan’s shoe. The boy almost choked on his orange juice, startled by the sudden contact and the sheer audacity of it, at the breakfast table. He put the glass down, only half emptied, and tried to refrain from coughing too loudly as he looked at Obi-Wan to try and see if the man had gone entirely crazy.
He was met with a look of quiet warning. Oh.
« Are you okay, honey? » asked Shmi, her hand reaching at his back.
« Yes, I just… I don’t think I’ll go to the lake today. I’d rather work on the car. »
No one objected to that, especially not Obi-Wan who seemed pleased enough with that answer. Jealous old man, thought Anakin, hiding his smile in his glass.
Working on the car, my ass, thought Anakin as he sat in the passenger seat of the still dead 2CV. There was no way he would even be able to focus on it. Last night’s images were too fresh still for him to want anything else but that. Or more than that.
The dreadful fact that he had had time to think now made it obvious to him just how bad he yearned for more than that. And he was not a dumbass, he quickly figured out what it was his body wanted. After half an hour pretending to read his book, he was still fixated on the same line. And his mind was miles away. Or, more precisely, it was right back in his room.
When a familiar knock broke the silence, Anakin smiled but did not lift his chin.
« I thought you were supposed to work on the car? »
Anakin did not indulge in the sarcasm, instead threw his book on the backseat and opened the door to exit the immobilised vehicle. And lean against it for good measure, detailing the Englishman in front of him.
« And I thought you’d be here earlier. »
Slow steps closed the infinite space between them, and they were all Obi-Wan’s. He took off his beloved sunglasses and pushed them into his pocket, while he passed Anakin and went straight for the stairs to the attic.
« Come, I’ve got to show you something. »
Obedient, Anakin followed without any negotiation, and after a few seconds of creaking old wood and dust, they were up in the attic, next to the window he had crossed times and times again. Obi-Wan sat on the floor and waited for Anakin to do the same, then his hand wet behind some of the old wooden crates lining the floor.
Anakin looked at his hand and his now lightly tanned arm, and only too late, at what book he was holding.
Obi-Wan had apparently hidden a copy of Marcel Pagnol’s Jean de Florette in the attic, only it was not his. It was Anakin’s. And the last time he had read it, it was on the roof next to that very window. Something cold ran across the boy’s back, something icy. He had left that book on the roof that day. Obi-Wan ran his thumb across the pages, almost amused.
« You see, something like a week ago, I heard a tile fall off the roof of the barn while I was taking a shower. » said the man as one tells a benign story about the weather.
Anakin was still frozen.
« And I looked to see what it was but there was nothing there, nothing but what looked like a book. Now, that book was not there earlier, I was sure of it. As soon as I got out, I went to investigate but no one was there, only poor old Jean de Florette all alone in the sun. »
Obi-Wan put the book on the floor in front of them, and turned to look at Anakin’s face. Anakin’s red face.
« And then you spent the evening locked in your room. »
The boy’s mouth was dry, and his ribs felt too tight around his lungs. Shame. He did not raise his eyes when he spoke.
« I was not trying to watch you… » and it was the truth, but not the entire truth. « I mean, not at first. »
When he finally dared to watch the man right in the face, Anakin was surprised enough to find no anger there. Only amusement, and maybe something else. Something warmer. Obi-Wan’s fingers slowly went along his palm until their fingers intertwined.
« Did you look for a long time? »
Anakin shook his head, biting on his bottom lip as he started to acknowledge Obi-Wan was not mad at him.
« Long enough. » he whispered, a hint of a smile there.
Cicadas filled the silence that followed, when Obi-Wan’s hand found his cheek and they kissed again as if they had been kissing without stopping since the previous night. Same heat, same hunger, same taste.
Soon enough, Anakin’s back had reached the floor and he could feel the whole weight of the grown man over his body and between his legs. And he loved that weight, just as much as the smell of Obi-Wan’s skin when the man bit down his neck. He could be a little bit louder here, no one ever came in the barn, only him.
Moans started spilling out of his puffy lips by themselves when Obi-Wan started to move his hips slowly between his legs. Against his already half hard length, their pants rubbing against each other almost out of desperation as their forehead touched.
« Noisy little thing, » said Obi-Wan, but the man did not stop moving against him. Anakin spread his legs open ever wider to give him space, to ask for more. « What is it that you want, Ani? »
Before the boy could ask, and because he was taking too much time to do so, Obi-Wan separated from him long enough to tell him to turn over to face the floor. Anakin did not even think before he rolled over to his stomach, both of his hands on each side of his face until he felt the older man’s weight again. This time, the hardness was pressed against his ass, but still locked under their fucking pants. The boy arched his back, his cheek pressed against the wooden floor, to feel some more of it, but he knew it was not enough.
Obi-Wan’s body was warm against his back and he closed his eyes just to enjoy the feeling of him so close he could hear him breathe. He leaned against it like a cat. But nothing more was given to him, nothing more than frustration.
« I said, what is it that you want? »
There was only one thing going through Ani’s mind, only one thing he wanted.
« Your cock. » moaned the boy against the old wood, his jeans so tight he feared he would tear them at the seams.
And if it had been possible, he would have wanted it here right here and now, against the wood, hard and raw. But he had never really thought about how they were supposed to go about it.
« Where? » had been the next question, and this one he had not answered to. Rather, he had undone his belt and unbuttoned his jeans in seconds, not moving from his positions. And after pushing it all down low enough to reveal his ass, Anakin had propped himself up on his elbows and knees to look back at Obi-Wan who looked pleased to say the least. The older man placed one of his hand next to Anakin’s elbow on the floor as he kneeled behind him, forcing the boy to spread his thighs to make himself smaller and give him space. His second hand went to the boy’s mouth.
« You can’t take it dry. But you can have that for now. Open up, love. » Anakin had obeyed, and let Obi-Wan’s fingers enter his mouth. Two of them, his index and ring finger, that Anakin sucked on without hesitation. And without his eyes leaving the other man’s face. Five seconds later, those same fingers were pushing past the tight muscle of his hole, and he almost wished he had put some more saliva on there. Obi-Wan was slow, careful, so much so that it was almost hard to believe that he was himself on the verge of ripping both of their pants off and fucking the boy right here and then.
« There you go, » he said, as Anakin’s body started to give in, and the boy closed his eyes to bask in the feeling of the Englishman fingering him nice and deep. « You’re so very tight… » Obi-Wan had said that in a way that sounded like it was meant for himself.
Now Anakin had never been called tight before. But said in that way, it sounded like the most wonderful thing one could hope to be. It felt warm. And he even forgot he was hard, when suddenly everything that mattered was being filled up.
« Can’t you make it fit? » had groaned the youngest man, almost panting under Obi-Wan’s touch. He knew he was taking the fingers well enough. Well. Almost. But if he was being frank, he still had his eyes on the prize, even when they were closed.
« I’d break you. » had almost laughed Obi-Wan, and Anakin could have rolled his eyes. But he knew it was true. So he just arched his back some more, and a thought passed quickly in his brain.
« What would you need? »
« Something slippery, » said the man behind him, pulling out his fingers as he seemed to understand Anakin had some type of idea. « Don’t you dare suggest engine oil. » he added, firmly.
Anakin laughed and freed himself from his position long enough to pull his pants back up. He did not even gave the grace of an answer, and just went down the stairs to the barn, it took him only a minute to locate the pot of aloe vera his mother had forced him to keep in the barn. According to her, that stuff worked on everything, from sunburn to small cuts.
As he ran back up to the attic, Anakin wondered if he was about to add one use to the list.
Obi-Wan had sat back up against the wall when he threw the bottle in his direction, and the man caught it.
« See, not engine oil. » smiled Anakin, taking off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants again. They were already at his ankles when Obi-Wan opened it up to check what was inside.
« Aloe vera? » There was a hint of amusement in there, but he also looked somewhat impressed. A feeling that quickly dissipated off of his face when he noticed Anakin was quite flushed.
« Is it enough? »
Obi-Wan did not answer with words, he only lifted his chin at the underwear Anakin was still wearing, as if to say it won’t work if you keep that on. As soon as there was nothing left covering the boy, he motioned for him to come closer. Until Anakin was sitting on his lap, still half hard and naked. Obi-Wan was still fully dressed, with only his shirt open, and none of them seemed to mind.
It was almost more obscene that way.
Anakin’s heart was beating between his legs when he felt Obi-Wan’s cock being freed under his ass. He felt it rub against it, move, harden, and the only thing he could do was putting both of his large hands on the man’s shoulders.
He heard the sound of the bottle opening again, felt movement and even coldness about it, but it truly started to feel real again when Obi-Wan pushed three fingers inside of him, stopping his breath for a moment. Their eyes met for as long as the man deemed necessary, spreading him open until he was soft like butter, and then, only then, did Anakin feel the tip of his now slippery dick against his hole. Obi-Wan was just holding it there.
« Sit on it yourself, love. »
Ani’s throat felt tighter than it should have when he did so, and he grabbed the corner of the windowsill behind Obi-Wan. Fuck. Every centimetre made him understand just how true the man had been when he had said I’d break you. His head went back as he closed his eyes, feeling a beard and light kisses against his stomach. Every inch of his cock dilated him. Yet it felt so fucking right.
« For how long have you wanted my cock that badly, Ani? »
Asked a British accent against his skin. He shivered, still working on the length, still eager to be filled.
« Since… Fuck… Since I saw you under the… shower… »
« Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. » smiled the voice, right as he got the entire cock in.
Ani’s head fell forward and he started to move like his instincts told him to. Like he had been born to be fucked like that.
« When… When you talked to Padmé… »
Obi-Wan’s hands went from his waist to his ass just to spread him open some more. And mumbled his answer.
« Good boy. » and Ani’s dick started leaking. « You wanted me all to yourself. »
He could hear the sound of Obi-Wan’s breathing, swallowing his pleasure to not be to loud. Anakin was not as disciplined. He allowed himself to sit fully, deeply sometimes, just to feel full to the brim with Obi-Wan’s cock. Anakin wanted to mould himself around it. Obi-Wan’s hand left his back to reach between their bodies and work his dick on the same rhythm as their fucking.
« I still do, » barely articulated the boy as he went up and down particularly deep, right before he spilled and tightened his muscles around Obi-Wan, letting out a particularly loud and obscene sound as his thighs started to tremble.
Obi-Wan’s arm had reached around his torso to bring him close, too close for movement, but who cared at that point. The older man had given the last thrust as he emptied himself inside of Anakin’s hole. It felt like it had taken forever to pass through their bodies, in a mess of sounds and breathing. Of movement and restraint. Anakin’s nails had left marks on the old windowsill, but none of them cared.
I still do, repeated the boy a few times as he collapsed against Obi-Wan, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck.
They stayed this way for a long time, until everything about them was soft and warm. The cicadas would grow tired of singing before they would have grown tired of holding each other. When they parted, Anakin knew that it was because they had to.
Three nights remained before Obi-Wan left, and almost none of it was spent sleeping. Or alone, for that matter.
On the day he was supposed to leave, Anakin had stayed awake the whole night just to soak up in Obi-Wan’s scent for as long as he could.
« Bring me with you, » said the boy as soon as Obi-Wan opened his eyes. There was so much sadness in it.
« If your mother says yes, » answered the old jealous man as he brushed the hair off of Anakin’s face.
« What if she does say yes? »
« Then I think I wouldn’t mind being buried next to you. »