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Things between them had become strange. Obi-Wan couldn't avoid Anakin, first because it was impossible. They lived together, and Anakin was still his Padawan.
But the memories of that night haunted him.
Obi-Wan had thrown away his old suppressants. They clearly hadn't been working. He requested a new supply from the Temple infirmary and hid them in a secret place inside his room. Suspicions about what had happened lingered in the back of his mind, but he had chosen to ignore them. He didn't want to face the possibility that Anakin had tampered with the medication—that he had altered or replaced it so Obi-Wan's heat would break through. Accepting that would mean acknowledging he lived with a predator who had found a way to mark him. Perhaps not visibly, but every part of his body felt branded. Drawn to his Alpha.
That was another reason he suspected he wasn't thinking clearly. Even after resuming his suppressants, his body kept gravitating toward Anakin. Sometimes it exposed him unconsciously—forgetting to lock the bathroom door while showering, leaving his underwear in the sitting room, adjusting his robes so they fit a little closer or leaving the collar slightly more open in hopes of catching Anakin's attention. Not that he needed any tricks to earn it. Anakin's eyes followed him like a magnet.
They hadn't spoken about that night. Neither of them had tried.
At first, Anakin seemed the more shaken of the two. He avoided Obi-Wan whenever he could, perhaps waiting for the inevitable confrontation.
But Obi-Wan never gave him one.
He didn't want to. He wouldn't have known what to say.
That day, he watched Anakin sparring with several other Padawans. Anakin had grown incredibly strong, vigorous; energy coursed through him without end, and it showed. There was a natural superiority about him, and he never wasted an opportunity to flaunt it. Obi-Wan constantly reminded him that these were training exercises, that they were meant to develop more than brute strength, but Anakin never listened. He loved overpowering others, especially if he felt challenged by them, like Padawan Ferus Orlin, with whom he'd developed an almost obsessive rivalry, despite the other boy possessing far greater self-control. Ferus often defeated him through strategy alone, and that drove Anakin mad with frustration.
Because of his behavior, he had few friends. The boys his age either feared him or envied him.
Or perhaps both.
Though Anakin tried to appear self-sufficient, Obi-Wan knew him well enough to see how deeply the rejection hurt. Perhaps, at some point, he had believed that displays of power would make him as popular as Ferus, but they hadn't. Anakin simply lacked personal charm. Rather than seeming approachable, he gave the impression that he needed no one, and Obi-Wan suffered that rejection alongside him.
In fact, he often tried to strengthen Anakin's few friendships by organizing small gatherings that felt as warm and welcoming as possible. He had invited Tru Veld, Barriss Offee, and a handful of others who didn't seem put off by Anakin's intensity. Quinlan reproached him for it constantly. He insisted Obi-Wan wasn't allowing Anakin to grow—that he needed to face disappointment if he was ever going to mature.
Obi-Wan understood why Anakin clung to him so desperately. He had become his only emotional anchor, and he had no idea how to rebuild a healthier relationship around that reality. He was so committed to helping him make friends that he frequently brought him to larger social gatherings with the children of Coruscant politicians and other influential figures, hoping he would meet people from different walks of life.
But Anakin always seemed far more interested in staying by Obi-Wan's side than opening himself to anyone else.
As he watched Anakin pin another boy to the floor, forcing the unfortunate Padawan to cry out for Siri Tachi, the supervising Master, a sharp pain shot through Obi-Wan's chest.
His breasts felt unbearably heavy these days.
They ached constantly, swollen enough that he could see the delicate veins beneath the skin, clogged with milk that accumulated in astonishing amounts each day. Every night—or whenever the pressure became unbearable—he had to express it himself.
Obi-Wan had refused to let Anakin sleep with him again. They hadn't shared another moment like that. And yet his body refused to stop producing milk. It was humiliating. But it was a burden he had no choice but to bear.
Then someone called to him from behind.
Quinlan.
"You look like you're raising an Initiate," he greeted with an easy smile. "You never seem to have time for anyone except him."
Obi-Wan huffed, smiling despite himself.
"Don't exaggerate."
"How's the boy doing?" Quinlan asked, watching Anakin listen with furrowed brows to whatever Master Siri was telling him.
"The same, I suppose," Obi-Wan sighed. "I've been trying to get him to socialize and see if that helps. But he's incredibly stubborn."
The Alpha's eyes drifted briefly to Obi-Wan's chest, visibly swollen even beneath the thick fabric of his tunic. "I can imagine you've been quite stressed," he said playfully.
Obi-Wan crossed his arms and shot him a withering look. "And you think you're funny."
Quinlan let out a laugh. "C'mon, I had to give it a try."
They both turned their attention to the boys sparring under Master Siri's scrutiny. Whenever Anakin trained, the dojo was usually full of Padawans eager to see what he could do. The title of 'Chosen One' only fueled their curiosity.
A moment later, Anakin stepped forward to face his next opponent.
In the middle of the fight, it became obvious that he struggled to stick to a structured combat form, and little by little, his aggression began to take over again.
Obi-Wan sighed.
Quinlan studied him. "Don't you think Anakin could use a little space? No offense, but the years are passing. A Padawan who's emotionally unbalanced is just as serious a problem as one who can't keep up with physical training."
Obi-Wan said nothing. His gaze drifted back to his Padawan.
"The boy's going to grow up. One day he'll have to become a Knight." Quinlan continued. "And if the Council doesn't find him suitable, they'll send him to the AgriCorps. He'll feel even more humiliated than the Initiates who were never chosen."
Obi-Wan turned toward him, stricken.
Quinlan was right.
He felt he was failing Anakin as a Master. Emotional stability was every bit as important as Anakin's extraordinary connection to the Force and the undeniable strength he was developing. In fact, that was precisely why the Council had agreed to let Obi-Wan train him. Obi-Wan was known for his composure, for his impeccable mental discipline, always approaching the Force with remarkable restraint.
So why was it so difficult to take back control? How had things changed so drastically?
Quinlan noticed his distress. He gently brushed a hand along Obi-Wan's arm, and Obi-Wan was met with an expression full of understanding and quiet intimacy.
"Don't drown yourself in it," Quinlan said softly. "I'm fairly certain the answer will come. You're his Master, after all. You're the only one who knows the things the rest of us can't see..."
Then came a growl.
No one had time to react. Everything happened too fast.
Anakin hurled himself at Quinlan and sank his teeth into his hand. He bit with such savage force that his fangs pierced flesh. Quinlan cursed and violently flung him away, as though shaking a rabid dog from his arm.
The initial gasps of shock gave way to silence.
A terrible, accusing silence.
Obi-Wan stared at the scene in disbelief.
Anakin had hit the floor, but he was already pushing himself back to his feet. He wasn't finished. He was about to throw himself at Quinlan again.
"Quinlan, don't..." Obi-Wan whispered, terror catching in his throat.
The Jedi Master began circling Anakin, calmly measuring his next move. Blood streamed from his wounded hand.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted, fury finally breaking through.
As though the sound of his Master's voice had only spurred him on, Anakin lunged again. The two grappled across the dojo. Obi-Wan started forward to pull them apart, but Master Siri caught his arm. With a subtle shake of her head, she silently told him to let it happen.
Obi-Wan turned back just in time to see Quinlan beating Anakin without mercy.
Anakin fought with everything he had, but there was no technique in his movements anymore—only brute force. For someone like Quinlan, that made him easy to overpower. He slammed Anakin onto his stomach, pinned him to the floor with his full weight, and sank his fangs into the back of his neck.
It was a deliberate bite.
A punishing one.
Anakin's screams echoed throughout the dojo—perhaps even beyond its walls. Quinlan wasn't growling anymore. He had already won. He kept his teeth buried in Anakin's neck for several long seconds, only releasing him once he was satisfied. Then he shoved him away so violently that Anakin's body bounced against the wooden floor hard enough to crack it.
"You stupid brat." Quinlan glanced at his bleeding hand with undisguised disgust. "You're going to be out of this Temple very soon. You're beyond saving."
Without another word, he strode out of the dojo, still seething with rage.
Anakin remained on the floor, trembling as tears of humiliation and fury streamed down his face.
"A-Anakin..." Obi-Wan whispered, wrenching himself free from Siri's grip and rushing toward him.
But Anakin sprang to his feet before he could reach him.
Then he ran out of the dojo.
°
"That brat is completely out of control," Quinlan snapped before the Council, not even sparing a glance for the two of them standing beside him. "He either needs to be straightened out or thrown out of here."
"Why did you attack Master Vos?" Mace Windu asked, fixing Anakin with an unwavering stare. "Such behavior is unsuitable for a resident of this Temple. We will not tolerate it." His gaze then shifted to Obi-Wan.
Anakin's face was swollen from the beating, and a bacta patch had been applied to the back of his neck to treat the bite wound.
"Masters..." Obi-Wan began.
Windu silenced him with a raised hand.
"Skywalker."
Anakin met their eyes without a trace of shame. He felt humiliated, yes. But he did not regret what he had done.
"I felt challenged by him, Master Windu," Anakin said through clenched teeth.
"And why was that?"
"He doesn't respect me."
Master Ki-Adi-Mundi let out a derisive snort. "You are the one who owes respect to a Jedi Master like Quinlan Vos, boy. Were the rules not made perfectly clear to you when you came here?"
"This Padawan needs discipline," Quinlan cut in. "Though, personally, I'd say it's already too late. He doesn't listen to his Master, nor to anyone else who's tried to help him. He's a danger to everyone around him."
"Master Obi-Wan." Yoda grunted.
The chamber fell silent, waiting for his explanation.
Obi-Wan took a slow breath. "Masters... the responsibility for what happened is mine. I am the one who has failed here. I must admit that, as Anakin's Master, I've found myself overwhelmed."
Anakin looked at him in alarm.
"It's clear that he's an exceptionally gifted boy. His connection to the Force is extraordinary—you all know that. By now, Anakin's gift is no secret to anyone in this chamber. He's incredibly powerful, and expelling him from the Temple would be a grave mistake." Thoughtfully stroking his beard, Obi-Wan took a moment before continuing. "He needs this place if he's ever to learn to control his impulses. Otherwise..." He hesitated. "...I must admit I agree with Master Vos. He'll become a danger to everyone around him."
Quinlan had been right.
The moment would come.
And it was now.
A sharp ache bloomed through his chest and twisted low in his stomach, forcing him to swallow a pained gasp before he quickly composed himself.
"I must confess that Anakin's training under me has reached an impasse, Masters. I'm no longer the right person to teach him everything he needs to learn."
"O-Obi-Wan!" Anakin blurted, horror filling his voice.
But Obi-Wan stepped forward, ignoring him.
"I leave the decision in the hands of this Council, should it choose to assign Padawan Skywalker to another Master better suited to his present needs."
"No!" Anakin cried. "No! I don't want that!"
"Silence," Windu commanded.
The chamber fell quiet once more. After a moment, he gave a measured nod.
"We will deliberate on the matter." Windu added, "But I wish to state publicly that I agree. This situation must be corrected."
Anakin felt as though the world had collapsed around him.
He felt betrayed.
°°°
Obi-Wan sat down beside Quinlan on a patch of grass in the Hall of a Thousand Fountains. He took his friend's hand and gently brushed his thumb over the bacta patch with quiet resignation.
"I'm sorry," he said, genuinely remorseful.
"No, don't be." Quinlan rested his free hand over Obi-Wan's. "Despite what I said earlier, I don't blame you for what happened." His smile softened. "You're an extraordinary Master, Obi-Wan. I don't think I could have done what you've done for him. I can't imagine what Anakin would have become without you. You did an extraordinary job with an extraordinary boy."
He let the words linger for a moment.
"But I think Anakin needs a different kind of guidance now that he's presented as an Alpha." He gave Obi-Wan's hand a gentle squeeze. "I was angry in the Council Chamber, I'll admit that. The brat got under my skin. But whatever happens next has to be considered very carefully. Anakin is a prodigy, and people like him tend to be relentless about pursuing whatever they believe they need—whatever they think will make them stronger."
A crushing sense of helplessness settled over Obi-Wan.
"I can't stop thinking that I've failed him, Quinlan. I don't even know when everything became so confusing. Anakin used to be such a sweet, obedient child. Curious, yes—sometimes impossibly stubborn—but always sweet." He lowered his gaze. "And then, all at once, everything changed. He doesn't respect me anymore. That much I'm certain of." The memories of that night came rushing back, filling him with humiliation. "If Anakin doesn't respect me, we can't stay together. A relationship like that can't work. You know it."
Quinlan let out a quiet chuckle. "That reminds me of you and Qui-Gon." He grinned. "I'm not trying to downplay what's happening, but do you remember the way you used to talk about him? You questioned everything he did, deliberately did the opposite of what he told you, and absolutely hated meditation." He laughed. "You were the reason that old Jedi wolf started going gray before his time."
They both burst into laughter, and for a moment the heaviness between them eased. Quinlan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "But you turned out all right."
Obi-Wan smiled faintly. "Well... there's one difference. I don't shed midi-chlorians with every step I take." That earned another laugh.
"Look," Quinlan said once they had settled down. "I won’t keep pushing my opinion about what should happen to the boy. You matter too much to me to keep rubbing salt in the wound." His expression grew serious. "But I am going to tell you one thing."
He shifted until they were sitting face-to-face.
"You are not his mother, Obi-Wan. You can't replace her."
Obi-Wan felt the familiar ache in his breasts spread through the rest of his body.
"I've told you this before: you have to let Anakin suffer sometimes. Otherwise, he'll drain you until there's nothing left of you."
Obi-Wan blushed. Quinlan's words felt strangely prophetic. Both literally and figuratively.
"Think carefully about your decision," Quinlan continued. "And stop being so afraid of hurting him. The two of you need to talk. Find a way to calm him down. That's what we're Masters for—to untangle our Padawans when they've tied themselves into knots and straighten them out a little."
Obi-Wan looked at him with quiet gratitude. "You'd make a good Master for him."
Quinlan barked out a laugh. "Oh, don't be ridiculous! I'd rather be eaten alive by a rancor than take that little demon as my Padawan!" He shook his head, still laughing. "It takes a brave soul to take one that big and that full of surprises." His grin softened. "Don't forget that, either."
°°
As Obi-Wan was preparing tea in the apartment, two gentle knocks at the door drew his attention. He already knew who it was. The old bond between them stirred faintly through the Force.
Smiling, he hurried to answer the door.
"Master Qui-Gon," he greeted warmly, stepping aside to let the elderly Jedi in. Qui-Gon merely acknowledged him with a slight bow of his head. "Just in time for tea. You never forget."
"I don't forget because I'm the one who taught you that," Qui-Gon replied, affection coloring his voice as a faint smile deepened the lines on his face.
Obi-Wan felt his inner child rush forward, embracing him like a father. And Qui-Gon welcomed him like a son. They remained in silence for a few moments, simply allowing the feeling to exist.
Then Obi-Wan gestured toward the table. Their tea was already waiting.
"How was your trip?" he asked.
"Terrible." Qui-Gon's expression darkened. "Very dark things are happening across the galaxy. Tensions are rising, and the Separatist movement hasn't stopped gaining momentum." He stared into the steam rising from his cup. "Something is coming. Something very big." His voice grew quieter. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Obi-Wan, but things are going to become very difficult before long. These months of uneasy calm should be used wisely—to ground ourselves and gather the best of who we are, so that when the time comes, we won't find ourselves lacking."
Obi-Wan lowered his eyes to his tea, anxiety settling heavily in his chest. "Wonderful," he muttered. "More problems."
Qui-Gon let out an amused grunt. "I heard about the boy."
Obi-Wan blushed. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you like that. I had no idea you were entrusting me with a little demon," he said, borrowing Quinlan's words.
“So I suppose you forgot this happened?” He rolled up the sleeve of his robe and showed him an old, faded bite scar. The memory came back to Obi-Wan instantly.
It had happened shortly after Obi-Wan took Anakin as his apprentice. They were in the middle of a rather difficult farewell, because it was the first time Qui-Gon would leave for a long time alone.
Just as he had done with Quinlan, Anakin had thrown himself at the Jedi and sunk his fangs into his forearm. Qui-Gon did not react. He let the boy’s fangs press into his skin, like a cat defending its territory. That was the first warning of what Obi-Wan had on his hands. But Qui-Gon did not make a fuss about it. He allowed the boy to calm down and let go. Then Anakin seemed to come back to himself and apologized with tears in his eyes.
Obi-Wan looked at the old scar, distressed. “It hasn’t gotten any better.”
Qui-Gon shook his head. "You've done well. You've done very well."
Praise from his former Master nearly brought Obi-Wan to tears. But he wasn't going to cry. Absolutely not.
"When I brought him here, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle him myself," Qui-Gon continued. "I'm an old man. A Padawan like that would've killed me by now." He laughed softly. "I knew you could handle him. Just as Yoda believed I could handle you."
Obi-Wan smiled faintly. "Honestly... it doesn't feel that way anymore." He paused, carefully weighing his words. "I feel as though I've lost control of him... and of myself. I'd rather not be naive enough to blame all of this on our biological conditions." A faint flush crept higher across his cheeks. "But I can't rule out the possibility that they've played some part in it."
He hated that the color in his face gave him away.
Qui-Gon watched him quietly.
Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.
"You're ashamed," the older Jedi observed.
"Yes, well..." Obi-Wan muttered, rolling his eyes. For a moment, he felt like a teenager again under Qui-Gon's scrutiny. Just like the old days.
"You must never forget that you're a Jedi, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon took another sip of tea. "We're trained to solve our problems... or to live with them." He set his cup down.
"I spoke with the Council."
Obi-Wan looked up immediately. "What did they say?"
"They decided to separate Anakin from you."
A terrible pain tore through Obi-Wan. It felt as though life itself were slipping through his fingers. Suddenly, even the afternoon light seemed painfully bright.
"But..." Qui-Gon added, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I intervened."
"You... intervened?" Obi-Wan asked quietly. "How? Why?"
"I don't believe separating him from you is a good idea." He spoke with complete certainty. "You're his Master. Anakin wants you to be his Master. He won't accept anyone else, even if you're the one telling him to. Even if the entire Council orders it." Qui-Gon's expression turned grave. "If they take him away from you, Anakin will leave the Order. And given the circumstances... that is something we simply cannot allow to happen."
"B-but I've lost control of him!" Obi-Wan protested, anxiety creeping into his voice. "He doesn't respect me anymore. He doesn't listen to me. He..." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He's become territorial over me. Territorial like..."
"...His mate," Qui-Gon finished matter-of-factly, as though the word carried no particular weight.
"Yeah..." Obi-Wan lowered his gaze to his hands resting in his lap.
After a long silence, Qui-Gon spoke again.
"As the Master of Anakin Skywalker—whom we believe to be the Chosen One—it is your duty to restore balance to the relationship you have with him." His voice remained calm, patient. "As my former Padawan, you know I spent years trying to teach you to think beyond the script. I warned you countless times that you would encounter burdens only you could carry." He held Obi-Wan's gaze. "Well... here is yours."
"I don't know what else to do..." Obi-Wan admitted quietly, hoping Qui-Gon already had the answer.
Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "Neither do I, Obi-Wan. The only advice I can give you is the same I've always given you: think beyond the script. Impossible problems require creative solutions, my very young Jedi." He let the words settle before continuing. "Solve it. Keep Skywalker in the Temple. Master him through something he seeks. Something he needs." The old Jedi's eyes gleamed. "Nobody knows him the way you do."
"Think."
°°°
Anakin returned to the apartment two days after the Council hearing. Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh of relief the moment he saw him walk through the door. The bruises from the beating had faded to pale discolorations, dulled by bacta treatments.
"Where have you been?" Obi-Wan scolded gently. "I've been waiting for you without a word. I was worried."
Anakin clenched his jaw. "You've gotten rid of me, remember?" he said bitterly. "I came to collect my things. Tru convinced his Master to let me stay with them for a few days. I figured it'd be more convenient for you."
By now, the pressure in Obi-Wan's breasts had become almost unbearable. A particularly sharp throb twisted his features, but he forced himself to straighten.
With a weary sigh, he held out his hand. "Come here, Anakin. We have a great deal to talk about."
Anakin hesitated. It was almost as though he was afraid to take Obi-Wan's hand.
At last, he did.
Obi-Wan led him to the sofa, and they sat down together.
"Listen... what happened before the Council—"
"Yeah, I know what happened," Anakin interrupted, wounded. "You gave up on me."
"No. Listen to me." Obi-Wan cut him off. "What you did to Master Vos can never happen again, Anakin. It ends here. Now."
Anakin stared off into space, his expression hard with anger.
"The Council has agreed to give us another chance."
The boy looked back at him, hope suddenly shining in his eyes.
Obi-Wan tried to ignore how painfully young—and endearingly beautiful—he looked.
"But if something like that ever happens again, if you cross those boundaries with the people around you..." He drew a slow breath. "...then they won't have a choice. And you won't be able to blame them for whatever they decide to do with us."
Anakin considered his words for a long moment before answering. "Tell him to stop."
"...What?"
"Tell Vos..." He grimaced. "...Master Vos... to stop."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Quinlan will always be around us, Anakin. He's a Jedi Master. He's part of the Order. Sooner or later, we'll have to work alongside him again." His voice became firmer. "And you're the one who has to learn to control yourself. That isn't open for discussion."
Anakin looked away again, frustration etched across his face.
Obi-Wan clung to his former Master's advice. Think beyond the script.
"I want you to tell me—clearly—what you need in order for us to live together peacefully. So that what happened in the dojo, and what's been happening with your fellow Padawans, never happens again." He met Anakin's eyes. "And I'm asking for the most honest answer you can give me. Because what you say next will shape your future. Everything depends on it."
Anakin returned his gaze with unwavering determination. Obi-Wan felt as though a wave of heat had washed over him from head to toe, nearly stealing his breath.
"I want you to stop pretending it never happened."
A knot tightened in Obi-Wan's throat. The same knot that had been sitting in his stomach since the conversation began.
"I want to feel at home with you, Obi-Wan." His voice softened. "That felt right. You liked it too. Don't lie to me." He held Obi-Wan's gaze. "It felt right. Beyond the heat. Beyond instinct. We both wanted it. I want that to be something I can have."
Obi-Wan's voice trembled. "Did you switch my suppressants, Anakin?"
"...What?"
The look on Anakin's face answered the question before he spoke.
The knot in Obi-Wan's stomach tightened. "Did you do something to my suppressants?" he asked again.
"No."
It was a lie.
One they both recognized as such. Obi-Wan fought back the urge to cry. But... yes... It had felt right. He had felt at home too.
Those things had no place between Master and Padawan. Even so, it was all he had. The only certainty that might allow him to regain control of this contained explosion.
The only creative answer outside the script that he could see.
"If you think this will make things easier—"
"It will," Anakin interrupted. "I can feel it in every fiber of my being. I know you feel it too." His eyes drifted to Obi-Wan's painfully swollen breasts. "Your body tells you every moment." His voice trembled. "That invitation is driving me mad. It's consuming me."
A tense silence settled between them. As it stretched on, another kind of tension slowly took its place—not one born of frustration, but of restrained pleasure, neglected and left unattended for far too long.
Obi-Wan's hands trembled.
Even so, they moved.
He reached for the collar of his tunic and gently pulled it aside, baring one breast. Then he leaned back against the sofa and beckoned Anakin closer. "Come here, dear one..." That was all he said.
Anakin all but collapsed against him, latching onto the source of life at Obi-Wan's soft breast. He nursed like a starving pup, his eyes falling shut as he surrendered completely to the moment.
At last...
At last, Obi-Wan understood.
Anakin had come home.
Finally.
°°°
The room reeked of cunt, of sex. Anakin had spent the whole night between Obi-Wan’s legs. That’s what they’d become lately. Anakin would suck on his tits until they dry out of milk. Or, like this time, after an exhausting day’s work, they’d eat something, and when Obi-Wan was already relaxing, the boy would approach without saying much, pull down his pants and underwear, and lick his pussy nonstop. He could easily spend hours doing it if Obi-Wan didn’t stop him. He didn’t seem interested in intense sexual activity, or even whether it led to orgasms or not—he simply licked and licked. Sometimes Obi-Wan noticed that he’d get lost in his thoughts—perhaps reviewing the day’s decisions, what he’d do next, what he could have done better—while his tongue roamed everywhere, caressing his pussy lips, his clit, his hole, his ass… it was an activity Anakin performed almost as if he were doing the dishes.
Obi-Wan allowed it. It had become a comfortable, relaxing routine for him as well. Sometimes he would review briefings with his legs wide spread, attend to pending calls, or even eat with Anakin licking him down there. Nothing was weird about it anymore for either of them.
“That’s enough, dear one,” he said that time. Anakin looked up at him with drowsy eyes, as though he were on the verge of falling asleep.
“But, Master…” he whispered.
“No, it’s late. You should rest, and I have something coming for tomorrow,” he said, stroking his hair.
The next day, Obi-Wan was to leave on a very important solo mission and would be gone for several days. When he told Anakin, he had expected the boy to become intense, but ever since they had spoken, he had been very obedient; in fact, his behavior had improved so much that the Masters’ accusatory looks had given way to ones of surprise at the change.
It had worked.
"Can we fuck?" Anakin suggested, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s leg with a small mischievous smile. “I’ll miss you very much…”
"You're a hungry little pup, aren't you?" Obi-Wan said, charming.
"Please, mommy, I've got you pretty much ready for me." He whispered looking at his cunt soaked.
Obi-Wan chuckled. “You need to be more careful with your Master, sweet boy—I’m older than you.” But Obi-Wan was already thinking about riding that delicious, insatiable cock of his, which was always ready and hard, at his disposal. Anakin wasn’t just behaving himself—he was changing physically, too. He looked much stronger, more self-assured, and that was incredibly erotic to Obi-Wan. “Come here...”
Anakin's eyes gleamed with hunger. He stood up and quickly pulled out his cock, ready for action. When he thrust inside him, it went in so easily that it literally slid all the way into him until his balls slammed against his ass.
"Oh, yes!" Obi-Wan panted, "Oh, my sweet boy..."
“You’re incredible… I love how you feel inside… So, so hot…" Anakin growled. "You love it when I fuck you hard and deep, don’t you, Mom?” he whispered in his ear. “You're so good—you really know what to do with me... you're such a good Master...” Anakin loved fucking him hard; he knew it drove Obi-Wan wild. “Everyone's jealous of me because I have you... because you're so good... such a good Master...”
"Kiss me, darling"
Between wet kisses, Anakin kept whispering. “I’ll be a good boy for you, Master. I’ll behave myself... I’m going to make you happy... you’ll be a happy Master...” His voice faltered as the thrusts grew more intense. “I’ll always fill you with my cum, and I’ll drink your sweet milk everyday so you’ll always be happy... my sweet, sweet Master...”
"You make me so proud, little one," Obi-Wan managed to say between breaths, "such a good boy you are..."
Anakin moaned. He held onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders with both hands to pin him to the bed. “Tell me you want my cum…” he said, his eyes blazing.
“I want you to fill mommy with your delicious cum,” Obi-Wan whispered, “fill me up, my babyboy…”
Anakin went mad. He grabbed his legs behind the knees to bend them up to his chest to mounted him furiously.
“Yes! Yes! I want to fill you! I want to leave you so full of my cum that it’ll drip down your legs for days!” he said, euphoric. “I want everyone to smell my cum inside you, Master!”
But then, just when he was about to come, Anakin pulled out his cock and shoved the tip into his ass. Obi-Wan screamed as he felt his hot cum fill his other hole.
"Oh, gods!"
Anakin collapsed on top of him, one hand squeezing one of his breasts. “I love you, I love you so much…,” he panted with his eyes closed, feeling completely satisfied. He kissed him gently on the face. “I’m sorry… I should have told you I wanted to do that…,” he said, looking at him with puppy eyes.
Obi-Wan was trying to catch his breath. Where had he learned to do these things? His whole life, he’d thought Anakin was a virgin; nothing Anakin normally did suggested otherwise. But the sex was great. A little erratic at times, even confusing, but it was always delicious or fun to say the least.
“It's all right, but if you want to play there, you have to tell me beforehand,” he said, gently wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I can prepare for it.”
Anakin let out a wicked laugh. “I’d eat your asshole even if you’d spent the whole day training in the desert and you haven't taken a shit in a week.”
“Anakin!” he exclaimed, shocked. “I haven't taught you to talk like that!” he scolded him, blushing. “But you always have to tell me,” he insisted. “It'll be more comfortable for both of us. You might hurt me if you don't get me ready, you know?”
The boy's expression became deeply worried. “I don't want to hurt you...” he said, showering him with kisses. “I'm sorry, I promise I'll tell you next time.”
Obi-Wan let out an amused snort. Next time... This boy was going to kill him.
Anakin stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and left the room.
Obi-Wan sighed. Doubts returned to his mind. Was this the right thing to do? These were desperate, foolish measures that, in all his 33 years of life, he never would have imagined himself taking as a Jedi Master trying to control his Padawan. He felt as though he were trapped in a dead-end pit. Their relationship had changed completely, and there was no going back.
And yet Anakin seemed well—better than Obi-Wan had seen him in years. Even more mature. Was this truly all it took to calm him? Was allowing him access to his body all it took?
Anakin returned carrying a glass of cool water and a bottle of body oil.
“I want to do something nice for you,” he said, handing him the glass and shaking the bottle in front of him with an affectionate smile. “I don’t know if I only think about myself when we have sex. I don’t know if you enjoy it as much as I do.”
Obi-Wan laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Well, I hope so…” Anakin sat down on the bed and placed Obi-Wan’s feet in his lap. “Let me give you a massage.”
“I should clean myself up first…”
“No, please…” Anakin pleaded. “Leave it for a moment, for me?”
“Anakin, I might stain the bed…” Obi-Wan said, embarrassed.
“Nah, you won't. Your pretty asshole is really tight,” he laughed.
"Gods..."
The boy poured some oil into his hands and began to massage him. He looked genuinely happy, calm. Obi-Wan watched him as he massaged his feet with great patience. Something warm settled in his chest. Obi-Wan loved his attention; he had to admit it. Anakin had always orbited around him like a hungry little puppy, admiring him with genuine devotion. He often told him, 'I love you,' as though the words cost him nothing. And perhaps they didn’t.
They spent the time together in a comfortable, deeply intimate silence.
Then Obi-Wan spoke. “You’re a very good masseur,” he said affectionately.
“Well, I’m trying for you,” Anakin replied with an embarrassed grimace. “I’ve never done this before—well, any of this, except with you.”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true!” Anakin said, offended. “I’m not like you!” he added, squeezing him tightly with a playful growl.
“Hey!”
They both laughed briefly.
“Were you a virgin, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked with sincere curiosity, not intending to sound accusatory. If Anakin had had sexual partners before, he was curious about who they had been.
“Duh,” Anakin said, blushing furiously. “Obviously.”
“Don’t lie!” Obi-Wan retorted, playfully hitting him with a pillow.
“I’m not! I swear on your beautiful pussy that I was a virgin!”
“Then where did you learn to do the things we do?”
“Porn, duh!”
They burst out laughing.
“Oh, well, I'd suggest you to be careful. Not everything you see there should be done, dear one. Not all of it feels good.”
“I haven’t needed that kind of assistance since I can eat you out,” Anakin said, winking at him. “I would never hurt you. Though I know I have an experienced Master who can teach me many things,” he added with a small, accusing pout.
“That’s because I’m older than you. You should always listen to your elders.”
“I’ll only listen to you.” Anakin brought his feet together and kissed them. “You’re all I need.”
Obi-Wan smiled at him.
This was going to be a daunting task.
He hoped he would have the courage to face what was coming.