This Year's Model of Humanity

Title: White Rabbits
Part: 33/?
Author: Diana Michelle (butterfly)
Warnings: Spoilers for Revenge of the Sith.
Pairings: Anakin/Obi-Wan; Leia/Han.
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: Anakin just wants his due.
Disclaimer: Not Lucas, don't own a thing, not making any money.
Chapter Index

Chapter Thirty-Three -- Lies and Fairytales

Anakin’s lips pressed against the top of Obi-Wan’s head, and Anakin breathed in deep, basking in the sex-soaked scent of Obi-Wan like this, sated and still trembling from release. Obi-Wan’s right hand had fallen to the side of Anakin’s neck, warmly clinging to him, Obi-Wan’s callused but gentle fingers idly stroking Anakin’s skin, while his other hand was securely wrapped around Anakin’s waist, one finger dipping slightly below the top of Anakin’s pants.

 

Anakin was hard, and Obi-Wan’s body was pushed right up against him, reminding him of it every moment. There was nothing Anakin wanted more than to roll Obi-Wan over, strip him naked, and then rub against him until Anakin, too, came.

 

But something inside Anakin muttered and told him that that just wasn’t good enough. It was the same instinct that had told him to back away from Padmé after she’d regretted their first kiss, to offer himself and then be grateful if he was accepted. Obi-Wan had already said that they should not do this. He had… doubts. And that was not acceptable.

 

Obi-Wan was his master, Padmé was his wife. Anakin belonged to them, would belong to them even if they tried to deny him. Anakin pressed his lips together at the white-hot burst of anger that appeared at that thought. Glad for the moment that Obi-Wan was blind to the Force.

 

He rubbed his hand down Obi-Wan’s back, feeling an intense stab of tenderness when his fingers paused at a thin line that ran halfway across the length of the small of Obi-Wan’s back. The scar from Torval Prime. He’d had to take care of Obi-Wan for two weeks by himself, and Obi-Wan had turned sick and feverish by the end. The healers had called it blood poisoning, when he’d finally managed to get Obi-Wan back to the Temple.

 

Obi-Wan had almost died, and all that was left was that one mark and Anakin’s memories.

 

“So many times, you almost died,” he whispered into Obi-Wan’s hair.

 

“I’m not the only one,” Obi-Wan said, pulling back and looking at Anakin. “We’re Jedi Knights, Anakin. It is our duty to protect the Republic. A duty that entails no small amount of risk.”

 

“I know that,” Anakin said, fondly stroking a hand through the red-gold strands of Obi-Wan’s hair. In the aftermath of touching Obi-Wan, even a lecture seemed profoundly intimate. “I worry, that’s all.”

 

“That used be my job,” Obi-Wan said, but he’d tilted his head up into Anakin’s touch.

 

“Master, I worried about you quite often, even when I was still your Padawan,” Anakin said.

 

“I can’t think of why,” Obi-Wan said, blandly. Anakin choked back a surprised laugh, and he could feel Obi-Wan’s amusement. “You know, Master Windu just recently told me that I’m a credit to the Order.”

 

Anakin snorted. Of course, Master Windu would say that. Windu had been trying to steal Obi-Wan’s loyalty away for as long as Anakin could remember. And Anakin was certain that Windu had been a large part of why Obi-Wan had become a member of Council recently, and Anakin had suspected that he’d done it so that he could attempt to exert even more influence over Obi-Wan.

 

“We could start with your recklessness in battle,” Anakin said. He slid a hand along Obi-Wan’s leg, bunching up the fabric of Obi-Wan’s pants. “Or I could mention your rather distasteful habit of drinking on duty.”

 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, daring Anakin to continue.

 

“There’s the way you insist on playing by the Council’s rules, even when I can tell that you disagree,” Anakin said, laying his other hand flat on the bed. “The arrogance you show when you utterly disregard something you don’t think is important enough to be a threat.”

 

“Well, I sound like quite the monster,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I can’t even begin to imagine why you want to share my bed.”

 

Anakin quirked a smile at Obi-Wan, then moved into action, pushing off his braced hand and twisting Obi-Wan down onto the bed, under Anakin. Obi-Wan chuckled, relaxed and willing. Anakin leaned over Obi-Wan, kissed him until Obi-Wan was done laughing, until Obi-Wan was panting into Anakin’s mouth, breathless and needy.

 

“You’re right,” Anakin said firmly, pausing to press another kiss at the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth, Obi-Wan’s beard rubbing rough against his lips. “You are far too rule-bound and rigid. I don’t want you at all, not the least bit.”

 

“Yes, that’s quite obvious,” Obi-Wan said, shifting under Anakin.

 

“You’re demanding and almost impossible to please,” Anakin said, punctuating his words with a kiss to Obi-Wan’s jawline. “And you never let me have any fun.”

 

“Jedi aren’t allowed to have fun,” Obi-Wan said, but the seriousness of his voice was undercut by the way his hand was teasingly caressing the dip of Anakin’s back. “I’m sure that it’s in the Code.”

 

“Probably in the same section that forbids this,” Anakin said, glancing up at Obi-Wan.  “Obi-Wan-”

 

“Shh…” Obi-Wan murmured, pushing up against Anakin, wrapping an arm around Anakin’s shoulder to bring them closer. It was a blatant attempt to distract Anakin from getting overly emotional. Anakin allowed it to work anyway, rocking his hips back against Obi-Wan’s, flashes of want echoing through his body.

 

Obi-Wan’s other hand was tugging at the top of Anakin’s pants, trying to pull them down. Anakin helped Obi-Wan out with a careful wriggle, the material and Obi-Wan’s hand moving downward. Anakin leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan’s shoulder, messy and needy, while Obi-Wan slid his hand down to Anakin’s ass, strong fingers pressing in suggestively.

 

Anakin gasped, his muscles tensing. Obi-Wan held him still, gently but firmly not allowing Anakin to move. But Anakin could, if he chose to. He could easily break Obi-Wan’s hold, could force Obi-Wan’s fingers away. He could.

 

Instead, Anakin relaxed, deliberate and slow.

 

They were so close now, Anakin blanketing Obi-Wan, not even a breath of air between them anymore. His left leg had fallen down in between Obi-Wan’s at some point, and his still-hard cock was pressed against Obi-Wan’s thigh. If he pushed up from where he was, he’d be able to kiss Obi-Wan again.

 

But Obi-Wan’s fingers were caressing him, and Anakin didn’t dare move, almost didn’t dare breathe.

 

And Obi-Wan just seemed… curious, battle-roughed fingertips skating over vulnerable skin. Anakin mouthed Obi-Wan’s shoulder, too clumsy for kissing anymore. A few more breathless moments passed, Obi-Wan’s touch dipping down briefly while Anakin felt him yearning.

 

Then, Obi-Wan’s hand moved to the safer territory of the small of Anakin’s back, and Anakin could breathe again.

 

Anakin shifted, propping himself up on his elbows. Obi-Wan’s expression was guarded, but in the shadows of his eyes, Anakin could see the remnants of longing. How long had Obi-Wan wanted this, and hated himself for the wanting?

 

How old had Anakin been, the first time that Obi-Wan had ached for him?

 

Anakin held the thought for a moment, and then released it as irrelevant. Obi-Wan wanted him now, and that was what mattered. Anakin bent down, touching his lips to Obi-Wan’s, pressing his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth, wondering if there was any way to encourage Obi-Wan to act on that longing.

 

Not tonight, most likely. Obi-Wan truly was exhausted, that much was obvious to Anakin, and he would need to rest soon.

 

Soon, but not immediately. And not still in his boots.

 

Anakin broke out of the kiss, and Obi-Wan let him, watching him with wary eyes. Anakin pushed himself up to his knees, tugging his pants back up so that he could spread his legs far enough, and surveyed Obi-Wan, who was a rather delightful mess. His hair was completely disordered, his body shone with sweat and was still marked with dried whitish streaks from Anakin’s work earlier, and his cock lay outlined by his hastily pushed-down pants, almost shockingly pale now against the auburn hair surrounding it.

 

Anakin shifted backward, reaching down to tap the top of Obi-Wan’s left boot. Obi-Wan obligingly bent his knee slightly, bringing the clasp within easy reach. Anakin worked the clasp loose, not taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan’s breathing, which had been steady for the last few minutes, started to quicken again as Anakin continued to leisurely unbuckle the clasps.

 

“When I was a child, I would dream of escape,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, but he was clearly having a hard time concentrating on Anakin’s words. “I would dream of flying, of being next to the stars.”

 

He slipped a finger under the top of Obi-Wan’s boot, and started to tug the boot off, taking the opportunity to lightly caress Obi-Wan’s leg, to feel in exquisite detail the differences between Obi-Wan and Padmé, the only other person he’d been intimate with. Obi-Wan’s leg was hairy, muscled. It felt worlds away from Padmé, whose every inch of skin was as soft and smooth as the water lapping over the shore.

 

“I thought if I won the big Podrace and proved my worth, that I might earn my freedom,” Anakin continued, tossing the boot over to the corner to join Anakin’s discarded pair. “And I did. I did. I won my freedom. I saved myself.”

 

“Saved us all,” Obi-Wan said, breath coming in erratic pants. Anakin watched in fascination for few seconds, hands wrapped loosely around Obi-Wan’s ankle.

 

“Yes, I did,” Anakin said finally, gliding a hand up Obi-Wan’s leg, and then pushing Obi-Wan’s leg back down to the bed. Obi-Wan shifted before Anakin needed to say anything, moving so that he could bring his other leg up. Anakin smiled approvingly and Obi-Wan glared at him for a moment for that, though apparently he couldn’t work up any annoyed words. “I saved us, and then I saved Naboo, too.”

 

Anakin began working on Obi-Wan’s second boot, moving more swiftly. Obi-Wan’s pulse was fast again now, his skin flushing with heat and his cock stirring.

 

“I earned the right to be a Padawan,” Anakin said, fiercely. Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed in thought, even as he trembled under Anakin’s touch. “To be your Padawan.”

 

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched slightly, and Anakin felt a flash of amusement from him.  Anakin’s hands stilled and he stared down at Obi-Wan, who quirked an eyebrow at him.

 

“That’s a bit of revisionist history, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked in a soft voice after taking a few deep, centering breaths.

 

“I don’t care,” Anakin said, pulling off Obi-Wan’s other boot with shaking hands and tossing it away to join the first. Briefly, he pressed his lips together, searching for control. “It sounds better that way, doesn’t it, Master? That you were the only one?”

 

“That doesn’t make it true, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. He reached up, his hand pressing against Anakin’s chest. “Don’t lie to yourself.”

 

“I’m not,” Anakin said, annoyed at the petulant sound of his own voice. This lecture didn’t feel intimate or special at all. It just felt like a lecture. “He didn’t matter.”

 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan said, and his words were shaded with reproach. “Don’t say that. Don't ever say that. You never would have left Tatooine if not for Qui-Gon.”

 

“You-“

 

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, pulling his hand away from Anakin’s chest, looking away from Anakin, reaching down to pull his pants back up over himself. “I wouldn’t have. You know me well enough for that. I wouldn’t have dreamed of helping to free one little slave boy, no matter how powerful he was.”

 

“You would have. You would have known that I was special,” Anakin said, defiantly, uselessly. Still, when Obi-Wan started to shift off the bed, Anakin reached out and stopped him with one soft touch on his waist. Obi-Wan met Anakin’s apologetic gaze, and Anakin could almost see his edges soften. “You would have, I know you would.”

 

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin ignored the tiny stab of pity in Obi-Wan’s thoughts. Obi-Wan’s hand was cupping Anakin’s face, tender and soft, and that was all that mattered. Obi-Wan's words were just noise, just play-acting. “Don’t think so highly of me.”

 

And then Obi-Wan’s arms were wrapped around him, warm and strong, and it was easy for Anakin to believe himself. Obi-Wan was urging him to sleep, and Anakin wanted nothing more than to keep Obi-Wan safe and near for the rest of his life.

 

But that wasn’t long enough, not nearly long enough.

 

Anakin slipped off towards sleep, that last thought twisting circles in his head, as he remembered Luke talking about ghosts.

About living forever.

~end chapter thirty-three~