Entre Nous
By Sharpeslass
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Slash O/A
They whirled in perfect unison, lightsabers flashing and humming, crackling in bursts of energy when they connected with those of their opponents. Back to back they were one magnificent killing machine. Impenetrable. But when circumstances forced them apart, still they moved together, each aware of the other-- from four feet away or fifty-- every move complementing that of his counterpart.
They were, in fact, even when apparently intent on a single target, still completely aware of one another. Obi-Wan saw the Sith-trained enemy that he cut down in one sweeping motion. He also watched through Anakin’s eyes as two swift blaster bolts shot toward him and were effortlessly deflected, to the ultimate detriment of their sources.
But it was more than this – that thing which made them the perfect team. Sometimes, and with increasing frequency, they truly thought with one mind. At such times Obi-Wan felt the forbidden thrill of exhilaration at jumping into the fray, the pure rush of adrenaline as they engaged the enemy and the nearly sexual stimulation of doing a job not well, but perfectly.
Obi-Wan knew that the exchange was not one-sided. As he Force-pushed the last flank of approaching battle droids into a crumpled heap and neatly caused a falling pylon to finish them off, he felt Anakin. A blaster bolt had come close enough to singe the younger man’s tunic and a rage born of unacknowledged fear was boiling quickly to the surface. Obi-Wan’s own influence was felt at times such as these. Under that influence the seething ripples contained themselves beneath a calm coldness that Obi-Wan did not fully understand but had come to acknowledge as what passed for "control" in his former Padawan.
Anakin dispatched his few remaining opponents and disengaged his lightsaber as Obi-Wan extinguished his own. Not a second separated their actions. They had ended the fight as they had begun it, back to back amid a circle of foes. But now those foes were broken and shattered, no longer a threat of any kind to the Jedi or to anyone else.
As one they turned to face each other. Anakin grinned at Obi-Wan. His dark blue eyes shone out from under overgrown bangs now dripping with sweat.
"That was too easy," he quipped.
"Tell that to your tailor," said Obi-Wan, indicating the scorched rent in Anakin’s sleeve. He didn’t bother to contain his own grin. "And you need a haircut. A sorry sight you’ll look when the Holonet broadcasts the story of this great victory."
Anakin, still moving, shrugged into his earlier-abandoned Jedi robes. "I look fine. I…" He paused. "There are Holonet crews coming here?" He did a poor job of concealing his excitement at the prospect.
"Really, Anakin, you would do well not to let such things go to your head." Obi-Wan slid into his similarly-discarded robes and ran a hand through his own tidily-clipped hair. "Of course there are Holonet crews. No matter how ‘easy’ you found this little operation, this was still an important battle, a step forward in ending the Outer Rim sieges. I am afraid," he sighed, "we must once again be cast as heroes of The Republic."
Anakin made a top-notch effort at a look of dismay but Kenobi noticed the quickening of his long-strided gait as they headed toward the landing pad where a transport would already be waiting to take them off-world.
Truth be told, Obi-Wan liked playing the part of hero himself. He liked it far more than he would care to admit to Anakin and probably more than he would ever admit even to himself. Perhaps it was partly for this reason that he made only a brief appearance at Anakin’s side for the Holonet crews and then retreated from the limelight to check in with the Council, leaving his eager young friend to deal with the media. Shortly afterward Obi-Wan got some news he knew Anakin wouldn’t like at all.
* * * *
Obi-Wan waited uncomfortably in Senator Amidala’s spacious antechamber. His official business with the Council done, he had felt it his duty to Anakin to check in on Padme, their mutual friend. Friend. The question he had long harbored unspoken had grown into real doubt at Anakin’s reaction to the news that Obi-Wan would be visiting Coruscant - alone. He’d seen Hutts take gambling losses with more aplomb.
"Excuse me, Master Obi-Wan." The clipped tones of a golden protocol droid cut into the Jedi’s musings. Obi-Wan looked up and the droid straightened from its slight bow. "Mistress Padme will receive you now." The droid gestured toward an open archway and Obi-Wan rose to follow the gesture.
"Thank you, Threepio," he said. He moved into an even more lushly appointed sitting room. The droid he had spoken to had been built by Anakin, ostensibly for his mother. It had instead become the first real friend to a lonely little boy. Now it belonged to Padme. Obi-Wan shut out the cascade of deductive reasoning that threatened to follow this observation and turned his full attention to the young woman standing at the center of the room.
She looked young and radiant. In fact she looked as though she had put on a little weight since he and Anakin’s visit just four months earlier. It suited her, he decided.
"Padme." He smiled and inclined his head in her direction.
"Obi-Wan." She crossed over to him and took both of his hands in her own. "It is so good to see you." She smiled. "Is…"
"Anakin is not here." Obi-Wan answered before Padme could complete the question. He immediately regretted the abruptness of his tone. He gave her a soft smile. "He is most unhappy about the situation and sends his warmest regards." Anakin had sent nothing of the kind. His only words to a departing Obi-Wan had been sullen and full of bitterness, but Obi-Wan was sure Anakin was already regretting not having sent a personal message.
Padme led Obi-Wan to a set of long settees overlooking Coruscant’s nighttime cityscape. Threepio had returned with a tray and she took a crystal flute of something sparkling and pressed it into Obi-Wan’s hands.
"How is Anakin?" she asked.
Transparent, just as you are. "He is…" He shrugged, "Anakin." Her years as a diplomat failed to mask Padme’s disappointment at the brevity of his reply. So Obi-Wan continued. "Qui-Gon always said that he had learned as much from instructing me as he had from his own master." Padme nodded slightly but looked confused. He pressed on anyway. "I don’t really believe that now. Qui-Gon was a better man, a better Jedi than I will ever be." Obi-Wan grew reflective. In casting about for words he had somehow opened an untapped vein of honesty in himself. "He would have been the perfect master for Anakin. I…" He trailed off.
"But you were a wonderful Master!" Padme insisted. "Ani thinks the world of you."
"And I of him. My point is only this; that I learn from him daily, that I draw strength from our partnership, that I feel he is shaping my destiny every bit as fully as I am shaping his."
"But that is a good thing, surely?" She invited.
Obi-Wan was silent for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it is." He gave a short humorless laugh. "It’s just that sometimes I’m not entirely sure who is leading whom."
"I think either of you would follow the other anywhere."
"Very possibly." He took a drink to hide his discomfort at the truth behind her words.
"You almost make me jealous." Her tone was light and teasing but he caught her gaze with his own and she quickly averted her eyes. "I mean," she said, plucking at an embroidered sleeve. "It would be nice to have such a good friend."
"Of course." The wine was turning bitter in Obi-Wan’s mouth. He knew, but he didn’t want to know and the longer he stayed the harder it would be for him to deceive himself. Instead he turned the talk to politics: a subject he hated but one that she knew very well, and then to the Wars: a subject on which he was an expert and which she didn’t fully understand. It was a short visit.
* * * *
Obi-Wan was relieved to be aboard the transport which would carry him, along with fresh clone troops and artillery, back to the Outer Rim. Still he couldn’t leave his unease behind as easily as he left Coruscant.
No emotional attachments. It had always been a Jedi tenet (one of many) that Qui-Gon had opposed. Obi-Wan himself had never had a problem with the stricture. As a younger man, about Anakin’s age, his physical needs had been satisfied or quelled through self-abuse or self-discipline and the occasional, mutually satisfactory agreement with a willing member of the opposite sex.
But he had never had the passion of Anakin or the compassion of Qui-Gon. He had never been in love. Obi-Wan reflected once again that Qui-Gon would have made a much better mentor for Anakin. He resolved, in honor of his own former master, to be more sympathetic to Anakin’s feelings. If that meant turning a blind eye to what was going on between Anakin and Padme, so be it.
* * * *
"I don’t believe it." Anakin stared around the deserted underground base on Yaris, a base that showed every sign of having been occupied and fully operational just hours earlier. Obi-Wan was no more pleased but mastered his own frustration as Anakin either could, or would, not.
"There will be another time, Anakin."
"You always say that, Master. And every time we show up a parsec late and a credit short." The younger man ignited his lightsaber and slashed through an already disabled console with a fury that seemed almost personal.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan allowed weariness to creep into his voice. He too was tired of this endless game of hide-and-seek with General Grievous. But right now, bringing Anakin’s anger under control was his top priority. He put a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin spun, shrugging him off.
Obi-Wan was forced to jump back to avoid deadly contact with Anakin’s still-ignited weapon. In a gesture born purely of reflex he brought a hand to his own lightsaber. Anakin noted the motion and his expression changed, permutating from one of sullen anger to one of eager impetuosity.
"Sparring practice, Master?" he challenged.
"Now, Anakin?"
"Have you got anything better to do?" Anakin shrugged, then slowly rotated his blade, switching it from hand to hand to bring the saber round in a slow, perfect circle.
"I suppose not," Obi-Wan grinned, once again letting himself ride and enjoy the younger man’s enthusiastic mood shifts. His own blade snapped to life and he raised it over his head, pointing it at Anakin. His left hand stretched out before him.
There was a momentary pause and then the pair became a whirling flashing dervish, leaping, ducking, rolling and swinging. Their lightsabers sizzled with the familiar electric clash as each met each’s attacks and ripostes. So able were they to see into the other’s mind, to anticipate the other’s moves, that at times the violent ballet resembled a single man fighting his reverse reflection. For long moments at a stretch Anakin seemed, to Obi-Wan, like a reflection of himself seen through a mirror darkly.
Anakin was still angry, still frustrated. His anger wasn’t directed at Obi-Wan, but it guided the style of his fighting. While Obi-Wan felt no implicit threat from his friend, he found himself having to fight with more and more of Anakin’s intensity to keep himself on equal footing with his one-time apprentice.
Both men swung and connected. Lightsabers swiveled and pivoted. Both spun away and in the same mirror-motion caught, blade burning on blade, in a down-stroke. They parted, parried across and held the stance, inches apart, blades seemingly fused near the handles.
Obi-Wan raised his left hand for a Force push, designed to put some distance between himself and his opponent and met with equal force as Anakin’s hand stopped scant inches from his own.
The power emanating from both of them was staggering. Obi-Wan had never felt so strong-- or so aware of Anakin’s own strength. A will of iron discipline pressed against a will of barely contained chaos.
It was time to end this game.
Anakin seemed to come to the same conclusion. Their hands, moments ago held apart by an almost unfathomable resistance, came together in a touch as overwhelming as the struggle that had preceded it. Fingers entwined and two extinguished lightsabers clattered to the duracrete floor.
Before Obi-Wan had time to think, the gloved, mechanical fingers of Anakin’s right hand were digging roughly into his side and he was pressed close to the body of his friend.
"Anakin," he protested, attempting to push away. "What are you doing?"
"Don’t you like it?" Anakin’s breath was hot in Obi-Wan’s ear and an unlooked for shiver ran down his spine. It would have been pointless to answer Anakin’s question in the negative. They were close enough together for the answer to be an obvious, ‘yes.’ Obi-Wan wondered how much of what he was now feeling originated from his own subconscious desires and how much of it he was picking up through his connection with Anakin. He had a feeling he didn’t really want to know.
He looked up slightly, locking his light blue gaze with the taller man’s intense midnight stare. What he read in Anakin’s eyes both alarmed and excited him. He hoped desperately that Anakin wasn’t reading the same thing in his own expression, hoped he didn’t look that… hungry.
Anakin shifted, grinding his hard erection against Obi-Wan’s own and flashed a crooked grin.
"It feels good, doesn’t it?
"Mmmf…" Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and his free hand closed convulsively on Anakins shoulder. He felt soft lips at his temple and turned his face up slightly, letting Anakin’s smooth cheek slide along his own rough beard, letting Anakin’s lips find his mouth and press upon it with deliberate teasing slowness. Obi-Wan opened his eyes again and struggled for self-mastery.
"You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this… to be closer to you," a look of soft vulnerability crept over Anakin’s features, shadowing the cavalier demeanor he had presented to Obi-Wan just seconds before.
Anakin’s tongue flicked at Obi-Wan’s slightly parted lips and the kiss deepened, became mutual - became aggressive. The onslaught of Anakin’s relentless tongue brought Obi-Wan almost to his senses. He pulled back.
"Anakin, you… We don’t want to be doing this. There are other ways, better ways to deal with what you are feeling."
Anakin shook his head and let out a shaky little laugh. "Right here and now?"
"Well, no. Perhaps not," Obi-Wan admitted, trying to ignore the steady movement of Anakin’s hips grinding against his own, maintaining the constant friction of their engorged penises through the rough cloth of their breeches. He was dismayed to find that, in spite of his words, he still hadn’t made a real effort to break free of the tight embrace. "To a disciplined mind," he continued, fighting the urge to rock his own pelvis in answer to Anakin’s insistent pressure. "Overcoming physical lust is not that difficult."
"Hypocrite," teased Anakin, releasing Obi-Wan’s hand and reaching between them to grasp at his friend’s desperately straining hard-on. Obi-Wan exhaled sharply at the feel of the firm warm hand closing around him.
It was a challenge to sound stern under such circumstances but Obi-Wan tried for it and managed a wry, admonishing tone. "Well, you’re not making this very easy."
"No, Master." Anakin tightened his grip through the cloth barrier, sending a new torrent of tremors through Obi-Wan’s nervous system. "I’m making it very, very hard." Obi-Wan let out another strangled gasp and his traitorous body pushed itself into Anakin’s touch. He was suddenly too warm by half and wanted nothing more than to rid himself of these clothes, normally like a second skin to him but now suddenly heavy and constrictive.
Sensing his capitulation, Anakin released him at last and stepped back. Obi-Wan staggered at the loss of support and clutched at a charred console behind him. Never breaking eye contact, Anakin raised a hand and swept it down again in a swift sure motion, sealing and locking the bunker’s blast doors against intrusion.
Obi-Wan regained his legs and stood. He moved toward Anakin and the two men circled one another, Anakin still looking predatory and Obi-Wan wary. Both were breathing heavily.
They came together at the same moment, with the same ferocity they employed in battle practice. As lips locked and tongues parried, two pairs of hands grappled at tunics and trousers. Fingers, both bare and gloved, bruised and enticed frenzy with insistent touches upon exposed flesh.
In combat Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker’s finesse rarely failed them. However in combat neither had had to deal with the logistical problem of removing tight fitting pants before first discarding calf-sculpting leather boots. Obi-Wan landed heavily on top of Anakin as both nearly naked men tumbled to the floor.
"Oof," Obi-Wan grunted. Anakin merely laughed. He gently rolled Obi-Wan’s inert form off him and sat up, knees bent, leaning back on his hands. He exhaled, blowing damp bangs out of his eyes. Obi-Wan rolled onto his back, throwing a naked arm over his eyes, still breathing heavily. Both men’s breeches were tangled at their boot tops and both still sported ample evidence of their undiminished arousal.
Obi-Wan lowered his arm to the floor, turning his head toward Anakin. He could very nearly feel the intensity of the younger man’s gaze locked upon him. With a complete lack of self-consciousness, Anakin moved a hand to his own long, slightly curved penis and stroked himself absently. Obi-Wan watched and Anakin waited.
"Your move, Master."
That insufferable, cocky smile! Obi-Wan rolled and lunged, pushing Anakin back and pinning him, hands over his head to the floor. Kissing him roughly, he attempted to straddle the unresisting Anakin, but was again hampered by the boots and breeches conundrum.
"Blast," he swore under his breath, as Anakin strove once again to bring their sexual organs into contact. He managed a light grazing of swollen tip against leaking swollen tip. It was excruciating.
Obi-Wan moved away and yanked at his boots, then pulled his trousers off and tossed them away with an exasperated exhalation. He returned his attention to Anakin, whose position had not changed. His roving hand was once again at work, caressing himself with slow languid strokes. "Stop that," snapped Obi-Wan, inexplicably irritated with both of them.
"As you wish, Master." Anakin completed an upward stroke and folded his hands behind his head.
Obi-Wan went to work on Anakin’s boots, his feverish motions belying his even tone.
"Really, Anakin, must I do everything? This was your idea." Anakin cocked an eyebrow but sat up and removed his remaining boot then helped Obi-Wan divest him of the rest of his clothing. Leaning forward he pushed Obi-Wan back to the floor and curled against his side. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s penis throb slightly as it pressed into tight contact with his hip. With his mechanical hand supporting Obi-Wan’s neck, Anakin touched his lips once again to his former master’s, tasting his mouth and tongue, savoring the crumbled reserve in Obi-Wan’s starving kisses. He let the fingers of his left hand trail across Obi-Wan’s chest, barely touching the skin, but brushing the rising hair on his flesh. Obi-Wan groaned into Anakin’s mouth. His hips jerked upward, his out-thrust penis meeting only cold, unresisting air. Anakin growled softly as his hand continued its insidious and torturous journey down over Obi-Wan’s sternum and the soft line of hair that ran toward his navel, finally coming to rest and tangling in the wiry curls just short of his destination.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered into his friend’s mouth. Anakin moved back, still close enough for their noses to touch.
"Yes, Master?" he queried, all innocence, save for the wicked delight in his eyes.
Obi-Wan was physically frayed. These were sensations and feelings he’d thought long forgotten. And he was tired of being toyed with. He was better than this – stronger.
"I’m ending this."
A slight panic lit Anakin’s eyes as Obi-Wan started to sit up. His hand shot up to press down on Obi-Wan’s chest. "No," he protested. "No, Obi-Wan." He nuzzled at Obi-Wan’s neck. "I’ll be good," he murmured, and moved his hand again, this time grasping and encircling Obi-Wan’s aching cock.
"Ungh… uh." Anakin concealed his smile as Obi-Wan fell back and his hips arched up into Anakin’s smooth firm strokes. His own penis pulsed against his friend’s thigh.
"I want you, Obi-Wan," he said steadily.
"Gods!" Obi-Wan’s head was already swimming with the sensations Anakin’s hand was providing but he was nearly undone by the surge of unbridled lust he felt from Anakin. He almost blacked out. Only the tightening of Anakin’s fingers around the base of his cock kept him from an untimely ejaculation.
When he came to his senses again it was to feel a warm soft mouth sucking at what had become the painful center of his physical universe. He made incoherent sounds that he was sure were meant to be words of protest. But he also tangled his fingers in Anakin’s soft, damp hair as the young man took him in more deeply, slid back, then slickly down again, his tongue playing all the while along Obi-Wan’s length as he advanced and retreated in a steady rhythm. A thought struck Obi-Wan, took him slightly out of the moment – enough so for him to find his voice.
"You’ve done this before." His voice sounded accusing even to his own ears. Anakin pulled away and gave him a look of pure indignation.
"I have not!" he retorted, wiping a hand over his eyes, which Obi-Wan now noted were streaming from his efforts to pleasure his friend. Obi-Wan felt immediately contrite. He passed a hand over his own eyes. What the hell was he doing?
"I’m sorry, Anakin. You don’t have to do this."
"Why can’t you just enjoy this?" There was an edge of anger in Anakin’s voice now. Obi-Wan shut his eyes in resignation and Anakin resumed where he’d left off. His movements were rougher now than they had been but no less pleasurable for all that.
Just enjoy this… No harm in that. After all… a warm hand caressed his testicles and he groaned. …hadn’t he vowed to be more sympathetic to Anakin’s feelings? If his gave the young man some much needed release - but just who was getting the release here? And besides… Oh, Gods. What was he doing now? He wasn’t. Oh, he definitely was. A slick, saliva coated finger had gently entered Obi-Wan’s body and was stimulating pleasure centers he had never known existed.
"Anakin!" Shock preceded passion, followed by an astonishing pleasure. Obi-Wan felt his whole body seize up in an eternal moment of exquisite tension. Then followed release, crashing waves of physical ecstasy took him as he ejaculated in long, agonizing throbs, emptying himself into Anakin’s willing throat.
His whole body was trembling as Anakin’s lean muscular form covered his own. His numb lips barely registered the gentle flick of a soft tongue.
"Obi-Wan."
He forced his eyes to open. He felt an overwhelming urge to succumb to sleep. "I told you I’d be good," Anakin grinned.
"Ngg." Obi-Wan responded articulately. His eyes were drifting shut again.
"Obi-Wan!"
The insistent voice, as well as the hot pressure of Anakin’s penis pressing into his pelvis reminded him he had unfinished business. He tried to move – even an arm, and failed. He felt drugged. Anakin’s weight left him and deft hands bent his knees, draping his legs over Anakin’s forearms.
"N’kn." It was a weak protest.
"I’ll be gentle. Please, Obi-Wan, let me do this."
"S’kay," Obi-Wan murmured. His eyes shut again and he tried to sink into the floor. He’d never realized how comfortable duracrete was before. He abstractly felt Anakin’s hands raising his boneless hips, felt warm sticky fingers spreading him, a gentle, not unpleasant nudging. He heard Anakin’s groan and felt his thrust simultaneously.
"Fuck!" Obi-Wan’s eyes were open now. Obscenities he’d forgotten he knew were pouring forth with vehemence. Anakin froze above him, but did not withdraw. As the initial pain ebbed and his swearing ceased, Obi-Wan became aware of the other man’s conflict. Anakin’s breathing was ragged. In spite of the dark lust in his eyes, Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s hesitance to hurt warring with his driving need for consummation.
"Master?" the word was a question. It was also a plea. Obi-Wan conquered the pain. It was not insurmountable, not like the pleasure he had experienced just moments before. Anakin remained still within him, kissing him softly on the neck and chin, and as the moments lengthened Obi-Wan’s body seemed more willing to accept the intrusion, to accommodate Anakin’s girth. He controlled his breathing and discovered an almost pleasant comfort in the closeness. It had been a very long time since he had been physically joined with another person – and never like this.
A Jedi’s mind should always be open, he told himself as his subconscious mind whispered "slut."
"I’m fine, Anakin," he gritted out. "You can… Ungh!"
At almost his first words Anakin had begun to thrust. He was clearly trying to slow his motions, to be gentle. He was mostly failing. But his face, rapt with pleasure, was a beautiful thing. Obi-Wan’s arms encircled him and his hands caressed his hair, his shoulders, his back. The skin of their bare chests chafed lightly. As Anakin continued his quickening rhythm, penetrating and retreating, Obi-Wan was mildly surprised to find himself hardening again at the sustained friction. The last remnants of pain were swept away by pleasure. Anakin pulled back enough to offer Obi-Wan a relieved smile, before renewing his efforts with complete abandon. They writhed together, moaning into one another’s mouths as their bodies strove for an impossible closeness. After just minutes Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s arms begin to shake. He pulled his mouth from Obi-Wan’s and, eyes shut, tilted his head back.
"Obi… Wan…" the name was a hoarse cry as Anakin thrust forward one final time. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s violent release, the throbbing convulsions inside him. His own eyes rolled back and he bit down on his lip as he came for a second time, his seed spilling into the tight space between their bodies.
They lay still, without speaking - entangled and sated, for a very long time.
* * * *
"No regrets?" Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan as he fastened his tunic in place. Obi-Wan looked up from buckling his boots and shook his head.
"But it must not happen again, Anakin."
Anakin gave an exaggerated sigh. "We’ll always have Yaris."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Our friendship is worth more than this."
"Agreed." Anakin shrugged into his robe. "Besides," he said. "You weren’t that good."
"I what!?"
"All right, you were pretty good," Anakin smirked. "But I was better."
"You always are, Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed.
The two smiled slightly at one another, assumed hero stance and released the blast doors.
Obi-Wan’s mind was already working to come up with an explanation for their prolonged absence. Trying to recover data files... Blast! They should have been trying to recover data files!!!
His body felt at peace but he knew his mind was still far from composed. He was full of uncertainty. But he was sure of one thing. He was getting Anakin back to Coruscant - the sooner the better. The boy was enough of a handful without the raging hormones. If Anakin couldn’t avoid emotional entanglements, that was ultimately his own concern. But let Padme deal with it. Obi-Wan was too old for this sort of thing.
When they did reach Coruscant, Obi-Wan would not try to restrain Anakin in any way. In fact, he would push him out of the shuttlecraft doors and send him on his merry way – alone.
Fin~