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Chapter Text

He tried.

Anakin Skywalker tried for kriff's sake.

Unfortunately, effort never amounted to anything when the Council breathed down one's neck, hungry for mishaps and misjudgments.

It was his fault.

That stung the most. Though not nearly sharp enough to unwind and unspool the anger knotted in Anakin's chest, its roots twisted firmly in his heart and lungs. Angrily, he kicked a crate, which toppled over.

The crashing sound didn't satisfy him, nor did it improve this impossible, damned situation. From her corner in the hangar, Ahsoka hissed.

"Sorry, 'Soka," Anakin muttered through gritted teeth.

Her eyes, luminous and bright blue, blinked once. He didn't receive a verbal response, which was impossible when his Padawan was feral. Anakin hadn't thought...

Honestly, he hadn't expected that Ahsoka wouldn't...

Of course, he should have known -- or at least suspected. Unfortunately, Ahsoka had the worst Master in the Temple. So, he hadn't recognized Ahsoka's gradual slide until it was too late.

His Padawan needed soothing and proper care, but Anakin couldn't breathe through his anger. He knew what was required of him, but Anakin couldn't offer it.

He had to calm down.

Ahsoka's shoulders hunched further, a pained groan escaping past her lips, distorted by the fangs filling her mouth. Instinctively, Anakin stepped forward, driven by aggressive alpha instincts and human concern. Instantly, Ahsoka uncurled from her position to crouch in her corner, every muscle tense.

Cursing loudly, aggravating his Padawan further, Anakin stumbled backward, tripping over his feet and crashing into the crate he had kicked earlier. Searing pain shot through the small of his back when he landed awkwardly on the ground, the edge of the crate digging into his skin.

His right hand, balled into a tight fist, had already punched the floor before he could stop himself. An indent remained, testimony of the superhuman strength contained in his prosthetic hand.

Ahsoka would die.

Unless he got her out of her feral state, she would refuse to eat, drink, and sleep until either dehydration, starvation, or sleep deprivation got to her. Maybe the elevated levels of alpha hormones in her blood would kill her first, and Anakin had missed all the signs.

He had broken his Padawan, albeit inadvertently, by sending her on a doomed mission, and he couldn't fix what he had broken. He couldn't resurrect her squadron; they were all dead. And soon, his Padawan would be too.

He didn't know what to do.

Fixing broken machinery was Anakin's specialty, but these skills were useless when his Padawan retreated further under the fuselage of her ship, the paint still scraped and chipped after the barrage of fire that had killed her squadron.

Anakin's fault.

Alpha hormones held Anakin in a choke hold, rendering him nauseous. In her feral state, Ahsoka could pick up his agitation from the other side of the hangar, and Anakin was forced to admit nothing he did would help her.

He needed help, which was a bitter pill to swallow.

With one last lingering glance at his Padawan, he strode to the Resolute's bridge.

"Contact General Kenobi," he ordered the clones on duty. His admiral approached him before smelling the alpha aggression on Anakin and rethinking his strategy. In the long minutes it took before the call connected, the pent-up energy made Anakin pace the bridge.

The clones, all betas, wouldn't smell the frustration and barely repressed alpha aggression rolling off of him in suffocating waves, but they could sense the tension in the air and gauge his terrible mood with one glance.

Finally, the call connected.

"Master," he blurted out instantly, his voice laced with urgency and enough fear to make him choke on it. "Ahsoka needs you. It's an emergency."

I need you, he didn't add because his pride, a roaring alpha beast, wouldn't allow him to admit this fundamental truth.

He knew Obi-Wan was aboard the Negotiator in the same sector. However, that didn't mean Obi-Wan would be ready, willing, or prepared to jump ship to fix Anakin's latest mess-up. Oh, Anakin hated this powerlessness. The flickering Holo image of Obi-Wan narrowed its eyes.

"Anakin?" he asked. "What trouble did you land yourself in?"

"There is no time, Master," Anakin confessed. "Please."

The plea tasted like ashes on his tongue and coated his throat and lungs in tar, but he had no choice. Obi-Wan sighed, a tense exhale.

"Very well, Anakin. I'll be there in... Waxer, would you be so kind as to calculate the trajectory and ETA?"

"Two hours, sir," a clone responded.

"I'll be there soon, Anakin," Obi-Wan promised. 

Anakin couldn't identify the emotions rising inside him, though he knew Obi-Wan would deem them too intense. His relief and gratitude were tainted by his stubbornness and wounded dignity. Stifling the stabbing humiliation, he turned away from the Holo table.

"Thanks, Master," he managed through gritted teeth, his alpha ego too wounded to allow more.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

As he fretted and waited, Anakin realized Obi-Wan had abandoned his fleet, his men, and his mission because Anakin had called. Although a soothing balm on his browbeaten pride, he still strained against the need to tell Obi-Wan Anakin was doing fine.

Mostly because nothing about this situation was fine.

Yet, his anger melted when Obi-Wan's Starfighter landed in a different hangar bay, skidding to a stop elegantly. Anakin rushed to the cockpit, anxiously waiting for Obi-Wan to disembark.

"Are you alright, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked immediately, his concern evident in his voice and expression.

"I am," Anakin whispered. "But Ahsoka isn't. I haven't told the men, Master, but she has gone feral."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose.

"Did she now?"

"I've kept the situation under wraps, barring access from the hangar she hides in, but Master, I can't get through to her. She has to go to medbay, but she refuses to cooperate."

"She must have learned that obstinacy somewhere," Obi-Wan remarked wryly.

Anakin wrung his hands. Describing Ahsoka's situation called his own panic to the forefront of his mind and turned him frantic. Anakin knew he was too close to turning feral himself for anyone's comfort.

A steadying breath achieved nothing.

 "Show the way, Anakin. Then, we will asses what assistance we can provide your Padawan," Obi-Wan told him, effortlessly assuming a commanding position. This tended to chafe under normal circumstances, the urge to bare his teeth in a rejection of Obi-Wan's alpha dominance always close to the surface. Now, relief made Anakin press his lips into a thin line, for he would sob otherwise.

"Yes, yes," he murmured hurriedly.

A low hiss from one shadowed corner greeted them as they entered the correct hangar. Tucked away under the belly of the Starfighter assigned to her, Ahsoka watched them, her blue eyes glinting with fever.

"Now, that is not good," Obi-Wan concluded.

"I know," Anakin whined, raking his hands through his hair and pulling harshly. Part of him was swept up in the tension again, instinctively reacting to Ahsoka's feral state. "Her squadron was killed."

"Hello, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan greeted her. He had pitched his voice low and gentle like one would address a wild animal preparing to lash out. For a moment, Ahsoka's hissing stopped.

Then, as soon as Obi-Wan took one step forward, the hissing transformed into growling and snarling. Ahsoka's throat was already sore after Anakin's previous attempts, and the sounds she produced sounded painful. Wincing in sympathy, Anakin balled his hands into fists. He hated feeling powerless; he hurt watching his Padawan suffer.

"Quiet, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan told her, an order that made the hairs on Anakin's neck rise. It could work. From Ahsoka's perspective, Obi-Wan would be the de facto pack leader of their tiny pack consisting solely of alphas. So, an order might work.

Alternatively, it could make things worse. Because now Anakin was riled up, and Ahsoka lashed out in the Force.

Despite these extenuating circumstances, Anakin shouldn't respond in kind. He shouldn't react poorly to his own Padawan, who had turned feral because Anakin had sent her on a mission he never should have approved. Nonetheless, he turned aggressive, taking a threatening step in Ahsoka's direction. A low growl vibrated in his chest, gradually rising in volume.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan barked. "Calm down."

Anakin knew he had to listen to Obi-Wan for Ahsoka's sake. Similarly, he knew Obi-Wan hadn't used an alpha command. Yet, his tenuous grip on his self-control, perpetually slipping, barely held him together.

"Should we call Rex?" Anakin asked. Rex was a beta, someone Ahsoka trusted, a friend, and most importantly, he could keep a secret. He wouldn't tell anyone Ahsoka had gone feral.

"I'm afraid that is not an option. If Ahsoka lunges, we will stand a chance. Rex, however competent your captain is, will not."

Anakin could imagine Ahsoka's guilt if she discovered she had hurt one of the clones while feral. Although Anakin considered them good companions, Ahsoka seemed to view them as part of her family, and this closeness... well, Anakin hadn't discouraged it like a good Jedi would.

The war had already taken so much, after all. Furthermore, it would be the height of hypocrisy.

"Okay," he sighed. "Okay," he repeated, his voice turning desperate. "Is there nothing we can do?" The question was a frustrated, powerless demand. Despite knowing he aimed his anger -- that rightfully, Anakin should level at himself -- at an innocent bystander, he couldn't control it.

"You won't like my solution," Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard as he watched Ahsoka shuffle in the shadows.

"Do what you must," Anakin ordered. "I refuse to let my Padawan wither away like a feral beast."

"And that makes you a wonderful Master, Anakin. Well then, I would like to apologize in advance."

Anakin narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious. "For what?"

But Obi-Wan had already reached over, his hand curling around the nape of Anakin's neck, who instinctively protested the scruffing by baring his teeth and trying to escape the grip. Obi-Wan proved stronger. He had always been a better brawler, and he forced Anakin to his knees with the single hand on Anakin's neck. Spitting fury, Anakin obeyed, his knees growing weak and giving out under him while on the way down. In his mind, hysterics and confusion fought a battle, Anakin's panicked thoughts racing as he wondered what Obi-Wan was doing to him. Obi-Wan didn't gloat over the hard-won submission. Instead, he knelt by Anakin's side, leaning in to wrap his teeth around the vertebrae in Anakin's neck, holding him in place by teeth alone.

The ultimate sign of dominance only an alpha could establish, and Anakin, who had already surrendered to the hand around his neck, didn't offer any fight. An alpha should rather die than let another alpha pin them to the ground in complete supplication, but drowsiness killed his urge to fight. His limbs had grown too heavy to move, and his body, bent into impossible angles, had relaxed more than it had since the war started.

His thoughts, ever racing, had fallen quiet under the first press of teeth against his neck, applying pressure in a warning. Anakin's stomach had plummeted as a part of him worried about how close Obi-Wan was to breaking through skin and accidentally bonding them. Yet, the only sound Anakin could still produce was a high-pitched, almost girly whine. His panic was muted before disappearing altogether.

Neither moved for a long time, during which Anakin's mind drifted.

Eventually, Obi-Wan pulled away, gradually releasing his grip on Anakin's neck, who had never been scruffed by an alpha before. No one had ever tried to assert their dominance over Anakin in such a base manner. And he didn't know what to do or how to react. So, he remained folded and slumped on the grated floor of the hangar, blinking dumbly at Obi-Wan.

"Try again, Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered, his voice hoarse and so gravely each word dragged in his throat. The Coruscanti accent was sharper than ever, distorting the three words heavily. Puzzled, Anakin met Obi-Wan's gaze, surprised to meet blown-out pupils and a tension in Obi-Wan's expression that made the muscles in his stomach tense repeatedly.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice still higher pitched than usual and breaking on the mono-syllabic answer. "Yeah," he repeated, but his voice failed to return to normal.

Scrambling to his knees took effort, but Obi-Wan didn't offer help, putting more distance between them instead. He couldn't stand, Anakin discovered then. His legs were too weak to support his weight. Usually, the humiliation would burn brightly in him, turn him snappish, and spark alpha aggression. Instead, the natural aggression was absent, leaving a gaping wound that bled uncertainty.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked weakly, which prompted Obi-Wan to rush to his side immediately. His broad hands slid over Anakin's body to help Anakin support his weight. Obi-Wan lifted him to his feet. Anakin's feeble attempts to help only slowed the process. When Obi-Wan stepped away again, Anakin's legs wobbled like a newborn foal's. Nevertheless, he didn't collapse to the floor again. Instead, he turned to Ahsoka, walking with an uneven and unsteady gate to his Padawan, who regarded him with suspicion.

Unlike before, however, she didn't snarl or lunge. Nor did she retreat further into her corner under her Starfighter. This was progress, Anakin knew, the one crystal clear thought amongst the jumble of other foreign, panicked thoughts he refused to entertain.

Relieved, he slumped to the floor by Ahsoka's side, slowly lifting a hand to pat her montrals. Against all odds, Ahsoka allowed another alpha to pat her head, though she narrowed her eyes at Anakin anyway.

"Hey, Snips," Anakin greeted her, his voice sluggish but no longer as oddly pitched as before. "Can you calm down for me? Then, I'll take you to medbay. You want to go to medbay, right?"

Usually, the answer would be a resounding no. But Ahsoka, operating on instinct, couldn't understand what Anakin had asked. She could, however, glean a lot from his tone. Since Anakin's voice lacked the usual alpha dominance -- which sounded so weird and unfamiliar to Anakin's ears -- she merely huffed.

Anakin's fingers trembled as he slipped an arm under Ahsoka's legs and behind her back. Still, she didn't attack him or retreat deeper into the hangar, apparently content to let Anakin lift her in the air.

"Well done, Anakin," Obi-Wan called from the side hoarsely. A shudder ran down Anakin's spine, the praise sparking sensations like a phantom touch. The spark started in the base of his neck, where Obi-Wan's teeth had gripped him carefully, forcing submission from him. Shakily, he lifted to his feet, ignoring the sparks settling low in his belly and the instinctual urge to bare his throat and beg for more praise with high-pitched whimpers.

With Ahsoka tucked safely against his chest, he joined Obi-Wan. Ahsoka huffed at Obi-Wan but no longer hissed or simulated tearing out his vocal cords. This was progress, though she was still feral.

Together, they brought her to medbay, where the medic on duty gave Ahsoka an injection to bring down her alpha hormones to acceptable levels. Although Anakin wished to stay by her side, there was always work to do. Furthermore, he wasn't exactly eager to be present when Ahsoka came down from her feral high, and the medic would lecture her.

Anakin had seen that particular expression on plenty of clones, and he knew it meant a long, frustrated lecture was underway.

So, he excused himself and headed to the bridge with Obi-Wan.

Neither discussed what had happened in the hangar bay. Anakin foolishly assumed that everything would return to normal if they ignored what had happened. Things tended to do that, after all.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

Ahsoka going feral had been an excellent reminder that Anakin should take care of his body. Letting the alpha aggression build to high levels was dangerous, and the loss of control was not one he could afford in the middle of the war.

Today, Obi-Wan had hurried to their side to fix the issue. Tomorrow, he could be in another corner of the galaxy. Then, no one would be around to help.

So, Anakin isolated himself in his private refresher -- one of the many perks of being a general -- and ran a finger over his flaccid cock.

If he popped one knot, he would be sated for a bit, aggression softened by contentedness.

Banishing all his anxious thoughts to a corner of his mind, where they lived in permanent twilight -- in a Darkness Anakin preferred to ignore -- he focused on the tip, rubbing his thumb over the head before moving to the base where his knot would pop.

To his surprise, the sensitive nerves in his deflated knot didn't respond to the simulation. It felt like petting the back of his hand, a touch but no more than that. Confused, his hand migrated back to the tip of his dick, his breathing accelerating when he pressed a thumb to the slit, applying pressure until his dick grew harder and a single drop of clear precome smudged on his thumb. Arousal pooled heady and hot in the pit of his stomach.

With his cock hard and heavy in his hand, he shifted his grip, closing fingers around himself and stripping his erection in hard strokes from the unresponsive knot at the base to his slit, which wept clear precome, which felt more like water than the consistency Anakin was used to.

Part of him registered these changes, but he couldn't worry when burning need made him move his hand faster in a punishing rhythm. Each shallow inhale was a burst of air he almost forgot to take. He tipped forward, forehead resting against the cold tiles, feeling so feverish that the tiles were a shock.

He was close, he recognized absentmindedly.

Coming without popping a knot wasn't half as good; it was worse than a ruined orgasm, so Anakin let his prosthetic hand wrap around the base of his cock, praying the gaps between the plating wouldn't catch skin. Gently, he squeezed, achieving absolutely nothing.

More panicked now, he applied more pressure, desperately whining when his knot remained deflated, and his bruising grip only communicated pain. There was no pleasure. Yet, Anakin couldn't stop his left hand from pumping.

Unbidden, he spilled. Unlike usual, his come was clear and watery. There was too little, splattering on the wall in thin, jerky streams. The release Anakin had needed never arrived, his orgasm ruined by the absence of a knot. His knees gave out under his weight, and he crashed onto the floor, pain echoing through his knees on impact. Sobbing without tears, he let his hands fall away, the left one covered in the clear fluid that wasn't semen.

Something was wrong, Anakin knew. And he strongly suspected it was connected to the submission Obi-Wan had wrung from him. Relieved, he sighed.

If that were true, then his body would remember soon enough. He was an alpha, after all. At sixteen, he had presented, so his body knew how to function. This was a mishap, a small error, only a hiccup that would smooth over soon.

His legs trembled as he stood, his knees red with the promise of bruises. Despite still reeling from the ruined orgasm, unreleased tension sat heavy in his belly. He craved relief desperately, but Anakin ignored his body's demands. Instead, he switched on the sonic to clean up.

At least the small amount of clear liquid was cleaned swiftly.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

The following morning, Anakin's situation hadn't improved. Panting with misery and exertion, he glared wildly at his reflection in the mirror. No knot, no semen, a ruined orgasm, and the pheromones in the air lacked the distinct tang of a dominant alpha.

It smelt too sweet.

Nervously, Anakin shook his head, tracing two fingers over his neck. Immediately, he snapped, his teeth bared and fangs dropping to fill his mouth. His snarl was distorted by the fangs.

Well, that reflex still worked.

Obi-Wan had almost mated him, he recalled. If Obi-Wan's teeth had nicked him, breaking the skin, thus allowing Obi-Wan's saliva to mix with Anakin's blood, they would have bonded. A shudder ran through Anakin, his curled upper lip lowered, covering his teeth as the snarl was wiped from his face. Anakin's hand still curled around the back of his neck, a demand for submission that should have him foam at the mouth.

Instead, he stared at his reflection calmly.

This calm lasted no longer than three deep breaths. Then, it turned into hysterical laughter. Anakin's alpha dominance had irked the Council countless times, had earned him many a lecture from Obi-Wan, and turned negotiations into brawls. Now, it was gone.

Eventually, he calmed down, though his shallow breathing was still erratic.

"I'm an alpha," he told his reflection. Yet, his fangs retracted while his hand tightened around his neck until his grip hurt. If he applied more pressure, he would bruise, and Anakin didn't think he could explain those bruises away.

His hand lowered to his side again.

His sigh couldn't encompass the frustration of another ruined orgasm, the responsibility he wore for Snip's feral state, and his body's failure to be an alpha.

Because Anakin Skywalker was a kriffing alpha. Maybe his pheromones had softened a smidgen, but it was still a sharp, almost stinging, scent. An alpha scent. Many alphas didn't stink of their need to dominate a room or aggression -- just like Obi-Wan.

Maybe he had just mellowed.

With a last derisive glare at his reflection, Anakin turned away.

Yeah, right.

This was all Obi-Wan's fault, but Anakin could hardly confront Obi-Wan with these changes to his body. Feeling oddly self-conscious, he straightened his back, his alpha posturing an effort instead of instinct.

At the entrance to the bridge, he paused. His shoulders -- kept rigid and squared to keep up the appearance he brimmed with restless energy -- slumped in relief. Ahsoka leaned against the Holo table, animatedly gesturing as she talked, an innate alpha trait that Anakin had never noticed.

Obi-Wan hadn't left, he realized next. Instead, he stood on the Resolute's bridge as he listened to Ahsoka, nodding along and smiling mildly. A strange uncertainty sat heavily in the pit of Anakin's stomach, an unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability that made him wrap his arms around his stomach. Realizing he had hunched his shoulders, he corrected his posture, adopting a swagger as he stepped onto the bridge. 

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan turned in his direction simultaneously.

"Master," Ahsoka greeted him. "Thank you for bringing me to the medbay."

"I'm glad to see you well and discharged," Anakin told her, so relieved his Padawan had survived that his knees felt weak.

Ahsoka laughed, an awkward edge to her voice.

"You were released from the medics' care, were you not?" Obi-Wan asked her.

Ahsoka looked caught, her hands gesturing helplessly. Then, she raised her chin defiantly. "After careful consideration, I believed I should listen to my Master's advice," she claimed, never specifying what nugget of wisdom she referred to. Likely some ill-advised stunt Anakin had pulled to escape or evade Kix's gentle care. Anakin was paralyzed by the disorienting impulse to step back and yield ground to his Padawan when she pinned him with a gaze.

She intimidated him, he realized, as he ground his teeth to suppress the urge to cower in fear before Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.

"Be that as it may, once you're back on Coruscant, the Temple healers won't let you escape that easily," Obi-Wan warned her. "Nor would I recommend following Anakin's example, young one."

Anakin's affronted protest withered on his tongue when he jerked his head in Obi-Wan's direction and met his piercing gaze. He choked on his disgruntled 'hey' while puzzled by the need to tilt his throat and bare his neck. Although Anakin had checked and confirmed Obi-Wan's manhandling hadn't left any traces, the back of his neck burnt like Obi-Wan's teeth still rested against his skin.

Nervously, he allowed his gaze to dart away before he steeled himself. The reminder he was an alpha was quickly turning into a mantra that Anakin kept repeating in his mind. So, he met Obi-Wan's gaze, ignoring the faint tremble he could feel in his fingers.

"Very funny. Are we waiting for a Holo call?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level.

Perhaps Obi-Wan had expected a rebuke because his eyebrows furrowed, and Anakin's head tipped back a centimeter before he could stop the motion.

Sith Hells, he was in trouble. What was wrong with his body?

He could feel Obi-Wan's gaze linger on the bared column of his throat, eyes focused with an intent that made Anakin's knees buckle. Distracted, he staggered back until the small of his back hit the Holo table, rattling the table.

"It's the locals, Master," Ahsoka told him, and Anakin nodded absentmindedly. "The Seppies used the moon to sneak on the planet while we fought them here. We fell for their distraction. It's an occupation, Master. We're waiting for a call to action."

Her voice wavered, and Anakin's heart ached for his Padawan, who had lost her squadron.

"You can sit this one out, Ahsoka," Anakin told her, hoping she would accept his offer. In fact, even if she refused, he wouldn't let her onto the battlefield so soon after going feral. It would be the height of irresponsible.

Ahsoka shook her head as she lifted her chin proudly. Anakin's guts quivered, an awkward vulnerability grabbing him by the throat. It was a strange sensation as if Ahsoka's stubbornness bruised his soul, which was already sore from verbal blows that hadn't landed yet.

"Snips," he warned, but his voice lacked the confidence it usually held. Instead, he sounded breathless and uncertain, almost scared.

Unimpressed, Ahsoka stepped forward, another gesture Anakin had never associated with dominance until he had to grit his teeth to withstand it. Things he had found endearing in his Padawan, a recently presented alpha who still struggled with controlling those new instincts, now intimidated him despite knowing Ahsoka was his Padawan.

Thickly, he swallowed.

"I'm fine, Master," she insisted. "I have to go, or I won't dare to..."

Her voice trailed off, her fists balling by her side, and Anakin could almost taste her guilt in the air, heavy in her pheromones. Before he could offer reassurances, an incoming call interrupted them, the Holo projector switching on to reveal the image of a haggard Twi'Lek.

"The droids have swarmed the city," they whispered. The Holo table artificially increased the volume of their voice. "We may not have much longer. Sir Jedi, we need your help."

Blaster fire and static followed as the Twi'Lek dove out of the Holo recorder's range. Then, the call ended, too. As static died, a tense silence reigned on the bridge.

Ahsoka wrung her hands, likely blaming herself for their failure to keep the Separatists out of the system.

"We couldn't have known it was a distraction, Snips," he reminded her, keeping his gaze fixed on the Holo table. "Don't beat yourself up over this. Instead, look at the situation and determine what you can do to improve things."

"Yes, Master," Ahsoka said, but the determination in her voice was faked, revealing her anxiety.

"Why don't you round up Torrent Company?" Anakin asked, hoping that sending Ahsoka to her self-proclaimed pack would help her regain her footing. He feared only a resounding victory over the Separatists would help her regain her confidence.

"On it, Skyguy," she told him, the enthusiasm in her voice genuine. Anakin watched her leave the bridge with a fond smile, glad he had managed to do something right.

Then, he realized he and Obi-Wan were alone for the first time since Obi-Wan had teased submission out of him. Swallowing thickly, he darted a glance at Obi-Wan, who met his gaze with a quirked eyebrow. A silent question that felt closer to a demand, and Anakin was...

Caught red-handed.

Nervously, he turned to Obi-Wan, who stepped into his personal space, crowding him. He had never noticed before, but the proximity suddenly alarmed him. He wasn't scared, though. The emotions choking him were a far more insidious heady anticipation. The back of his neck burnt with a phantom touch. Thickly, he swallowed again, his throat working reflexively.

"I want to confirm that you are fine after yesterday," Obi-Wan muttered, keeping his voice low so none of the officers on the bridge would overhear.

Anakin nodded. "I'm fine," he insisted.

Obi-Wan's close scrutiny was daunting, but Anakin weathered it admirably, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze head-on. For a second, he believed Obi-Wan would give him a patented, dispassionate 'If you are sure', dripping with exasperation, sarcasm, and the knowledge Obi-Wan had at least tried to do his duty.

Even the prospect made Anakin's blood boil. He was not Obi-Wan's responsibility. Anakin could handle himself.

"You are not fine. Please bear in mind that we will lead these men into battle. A lapse in focus will mean certain death to them, Anakin," Obi-Wan lectured him sternly, acting like Anakin didn't care.

Like Anakin wasn't haunted by nightmares and this responsibility, which he struggled to carry on good days.

Anakin hadn't lost his alpha aggression, he discovered. Unfortunately, he made this discovery while snapping at an unimpressed Obi-Wan. Which meant he had lost control anyway.

"I can do it," he protested, his shoulders squared, fists balled, eyes glinting, and his upper lip pulled back in a snarl. Hopefully, Obi-Wan didn't notice Anakin's alpha fangs hadn't elongated. "Do not underestimate me, Master."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan cautioned him, and a hand curled around Anakin's shoulder. Although Obi-Wan didn't squeeze or apply pressure, Anakin still froze, his mind stalling. Static filled his ears as he breathed through the urge to whimper.

Anakin Skywalker did not whimper ever.

So, he pressed his lips into a tight line and shuffled away from the Holo table awkwardly, which made Obi-Wan's hand slip from his shoulder. Nevertheless, a phantom touch still burnt hotly, so close to the crook of his neck that Anakin's instincts had gone haywire as a precaution.

However, the initial urge to lash out was soon overwhelmed by the need to comply and bare his throat. Fortunately, he had growled lowly during that initial burst of aggression, masking that his scent hadn't followed suit or that his growled threat was remarkably short-lived.

"My apologies," Obi-Wan said, sounding shocked. "I don't know what came over me."

Alphas only reached for other alphas' necks when they tried to establish dominance; it was a provocation at best and a declaration of war typically. But Anakin had frozen after that first growl, staring at the projector wide-eyed while his lips moved around silent words.

"I'm very sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan continued, concern thick in his voice. Whether this was concern about Anakin's lack of reaction or his own uncharacteristic loss of control, Anakin couldn't tell. Likely the latter, he judged.

He twisted away further, needing the space between them as he panted at the Holo table, his frenetic expression staring back at him from the shiny durasteel. Conflicting impulses battled inside him, and the overwhelming urge to collapse on the Holo table in complete surrender for Obi-Wan appeared to win.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his sharp Coruscanti accent turning Anakin's name odd. Sometimes, this aggravated Anakin. Other times, it amused him. Now, he turned automatically, his mind replaying Obi-Wan uttering his name. This old familiarity reassured him; it reminded him he could fall back on these old habits when his body failed him.

"Yes, Master?"

The confused concern in Obi-Wan's expression made him bristle for a split second. He was an independent knight, an alpha who had proven himself, and Obi-Wan should do well to remember Anakin could and would bare his fangs if provoked. In fact, he just had -- minus the inoperative fangs, but that was semantics.

Then, the impulse to react to an imaginary challenge, for Obi-Wan would never debase himself to acting like a stereotypical knothead, died.

He huffed, annoyed with himself and oddly intimidated by Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's presence felt large, though Anakin stood slightly taller than him. Obi-Wan's steadfast gaze and innate confidence in his stance communicated that Obi-Wan expected his commands to be followed. He unconsciously projected alpha dominance all alphas vied for and coveted, but Obi-Wan commanded it like it was meaningless or trite.

Anakin stifled the urge to bow like a reed. Partly because he would rather break. Mostly because Obi-Wan would realize something was wrong with Anakin, and Anakin despised medbay.

"I'm fine, Master," he claimed with feigned boldness. "Come on, this will not be the first time we retake a city from the seppies on this karked dust ball. I could beat those droids in my sleep. It will be a breeze."

Obi-Wan grimaced.

"On paper, it does appear rather straightforward," he agreed. "But we both know these missions are highly unpredictable."

The admonishing tone chafed, but Anakin couldn't muster any frustration. To his intense embarrassment, he whined lowly, a pitiful sound in a strange pitch.

Obi-Wan blinked.

Anakin coughed loudly to mask his whine.

"The air is... dry," he said, his voice overly loud and abrasive to his own ears.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded.

"Just let me know when you want to talk about what bothers you, Anakin."

Anakin.

Why was Anakin so compelled to lean in Obi-Wan's direction when Obi-Wan uttered his name? His haywire instincts shouldn't impact how he perceived Obi-Wan's voice, right? They shouldn't tempt him to bare his throat and his belly to another alpha.

Uneasily, Anakin left the bridge. He had hoped distancing himself from the other two alphas aboard the Resolute would calm him. Sith Hells, he even considered meditation to work through his instincts and remedy whatever Obi-Wan had inflicted on him.

Of course, he hoped walking through the corridors of the Resolute would work before he had to resort to such drastic measures.

Instead of serenity, his echoing footsteps made tension rise in him, the stress a knot in his stomach.

Admittedly, the Resolute was safe. Nevertheless, all his instincts told him he was in dangerous territory; the clones and officers milling about were kind, but he couldn't trust them. 

They were kind.

And Anakin did trust them. However, misery made him feel small, fragile, and awfully aware everyone was a potential threat. He craved a sense of security, which even isolating himself wouldn't achieve. He needed a safe environment to recover from the overwhelming timidness -- from that wide-eyed, pathetic vulnerability.

Despite being home, the Resolute wasn't a safe environment. Even alone in a corridor, the urge to isolate himself further remained. Anakin wanted to curl up like a tiny animal that could bury its nose under a tail wrapped protectively around its body. Not to sleep, but to doze and languish -- to watch the world curiously.

Dimly, Anakin recognized he was tired, unnerved, and still off-balance from the forced submission. It had upset his hormone production, he told himself. All he needed was time to strike a new balance.

Meditation would help, but he was tired from two ruined orgasms that left him wired, and nagging uncertainties haunted him. He only wanted to hide under a desk or cot, concealed by shadows.

He wanted to feel secure and cared for, but he was alone and couldn't lower his guard.

Shocked, Anakin stopped walking, staring wide-eyed at a white wall. His mind had spun out of control, imagining and needing things that had never occurred to Anakin.

"A fight," he whispered urgently. "I just need a good fight, and everything will be fixed."

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

Less than an hour later, clones entered the LAAT/i gunships, which would bring them to the surface. The boarding had already begun when Anakin stormed into the hall. His attempt at brief meditation had turned into a nap.

Sleep did nothing to improve his disposition, but Anakin had run out of time to fix his body and hormones. When he saw Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in the hall, talking to Rex, Anakin paused. He knew he had arrived late, and Obi-Wan would have a scathing taunt ready. Oh, Anakin knew he would receive some form of criticism, and he didn't think he could receive any without crying or crumpling like wet cardboard, folding into a pitiful pile of vulnerability -- of bruises and lacerations and a thrumming need for comfort.

He was in so much trouble.

He steeled himself, actively searching for a shadow of the alpha aggression that had controlled him before. He found less than fumes. Maybe his long strides were akin to slinking, but it was all he could muster. Sullenly, he joined Obi-Wan in the hangar, watching his men prepare.

Since Anakin expected a lecture, he kept his gaze fixed on two clones dragging a fuel line through the hangar, steadfastly ignoring Obi-Wan. However, no lecture followed, and Anakin's curiosity made him glance in Obi-Wan's direction, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze.

Evidently, Obi-Wan stared at him, though Anakin couldn't tell why. Or rather, Obi-Wan stared at his neck. Self-consciously, Anakin cleared his throat. This seemed to jolt Obi-Wan out of his staring.

"Ready to deploy?" Obi-Wan asked him.

"Yes, Master."

"Excellent," Obi-Wan replied before shaking their head. "Anakin," he said, abruptly changing the flow of their stilted conversation. Anakin's exhale shuddered in his throat, the use of his name chasing shivers down his spine.

It had to be unease because Anakin couldn't identify what this thrill could otherwise be.

"I think we should address what happened."

Obi-Wan had wrangled submission from him, curling his hand around the back of Anakin's neck and working him to the ground. Doing so had saved Ahsoka's life. Simultaneously, their rescue had doomed Anakin, who grew increasingly resigned to the idea more sleep, rest, or meditation wouldn't undo the changes to his body.

"It is fine," Anakin said tersely. "Everything is fine."

"Evidently, something is wrong, Anakin."

Anakin barely swallowed a frustrated cry and demand to stop using his name when it turned his mind into a mess. Instincts and hormones prompted impulses Anakin couldn't decipher because he was an alpha.

"Let it go, Obi-Wan," he warned Obi-Wan. The fact he had challenged an alpha should fuel his natural aggression as his body geared up for a fight. Instead, his knees trembled while his stomach dropped in free-fall. Nervously, he flexed his fingers, the palm of his organic hand uncomfortably clammy.

Nature dictated Obi-Wan should react in kind, but Obi-Wan had always been above the emotions that ruled Anakin. So, he shook his head minutely. Then, he relented. Ahsoka observed their exchange with wide eyes, her head shifting between them like she was watching an intense match.

"Remember, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, apparently still not done using Anakin's name. "You can talk to me."

Frankly? Anakin would rather choke on this mess than confide in Obi-Wan. However, as he met Obi-Wan's gaze, all his anger evaporated, which allowed the sense of intimidation to return tenfold. Anakin's breathing grew shallow, and he felt like cornered small prey. Thickly, he swallowed, dimly wondering whether the tension in his body was apprehension or anticipation.

"Yes, Master." His voice was oddly reedy. Before Obi-Wan could force the matter, he moved to a LAAT/i. Ahsoka followed him just a step too close.

A good fight would clear his mind. It had to. Otherwise, Anakin was in more trouble than he had ever imagined possible.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

The rhythm of the fight was familiar, soothing in how unsettling the loss of life around him was. Dust hung in the air, so heavy Anakin choked on it as he advanced with his men. His vision was limited, but he could trust the Force. Moreover, the green glow of Ahsoka's lightsabers told him she was close.

Reassured, he focused on the advancing droids. Anakin and Ahsoka were stuck on bait duty while Obi-Wan and several companies of the 501st he had commandeered would drive the seppies to them.

So far, the plan was holding up -- a novelty in its own right.

Anakin was also convinced Obi-Wan was not supposed to be here helping them with an offensive. In fact, he didn't know whether Obi-Wan had updated the Council on his relocation to the Resolute at all. Considering how often Obi-Wan lectured him for 'not following orders', this seemed exceedingly hypocritical.

Anakin's attention slipped from the battle, his body on autopilot as he defended against a new wave of droids. The line of clones appearing on top of a sandy dune with Obi-Wan in the lead distracted him further.

His silly musings were disrupted abruptly when his gaze wandered to an adjacent dune, noticing the tactical droid perched on the ridge, overlooking the action. A temporary center of command, Anakin realized. Taking the tactical droid out would win them the battle.

"Stay in position, Ahsoka," he ordered.

"You can't be serious, Master," Ahsoka protested, "We can't hold the line here without--"

Anakin didn't wait for Ahsoka to finish talking.

"You'll be fine, Snips," he interjected. "Obi-Wan's near."

"Master," Ahsoka called out, and her exasperation reminded him briefly of Obi-Wan. Then, Anakin started running, the sand slowing him down as he scaled the dunes to reach the tactical droid. Behind him, the fighting continued unhindered, proving that Anakin was right.

Finally, he felt confident; the clear goal in his mind helped him focus. His lips twisted into a grin as he used the Force to leap high, landing behind the tactical droid. Startled by his presence, the battle droids scurrying around the equipment and communication station turned to him.

"A Jedi," several called out.

"Shoot him," another ordered, which prompted a rain of bullets Anakin deflected with ease. His heart pounded, adrenaline turned his vision sharp, and his labored breathing was loud in his ears. This was how the galaxy was supposed to be. Assured in his victory, he rolled his shoulders.

"Your hospitality leaves much to be desired," he taunted the tactical droid as he prepared to slice off its head. However, he was stopped when droidekas popped from the sand, rolling before unfolding.

Anakin hadn't sensed them under the sand, his body still out of tune. Surprised, he spun on his heels, his lightsaber raised defensively as he realized he was surrounded by droidekas.

He had fallen for a trap.

Nervously, he exhaled, his durasteel hand tightening around the hilt of his lit lightsaber.

"Meet your end, Jedi scum!" one of the few remaining battle droids cheered from the side. More survivors chimed in, but Anakin ignored them.

Although this was a trap, and the odds weren't in Anakin's favor, this wasn't the first time he would have to pull off the impossible. So, he sank into a defensive stance while the tactical droid issued the command to shoot.

Blaster bolts singed the air and Anakin's clothes as he spun to deflect bolts. Usually, he would vault over a droideka to use their shield to his advantage. However, the barrage of fire was too dense. Likely, the tactical droid had anticipated Anakin's next move, which indicated the tactical droids grew smarter.

Bad news.

Furthermore, Anakin didn't know how long he could keep up.

Terrible news.

As Anakin considered his meager options, a blue lightsaber stabbed through a droideka. The droid collapsed in the sand as it toppled over, revealing Obi-Wan. Its neighbors suffered the same fate. Anakin's relief at this rescue mission was short-lived. As the fourth droideka was reduced to scrap, Anakin caught a whiff of Obi-Wan's pheromones. Although they were tightly controlled, the scent was so sharp Anakin almost sneezed.

Obi-Wan was livid.

Together, they cleared out the droidekas, and Anakin beheaded the tactical droid. Yet, he didn't feel victorious as Obi-Wan dealt with the last droideka. Obi-Wan clipped his lightsaber to his utility belt and straightened his back before he turned to Anakin.

Of course, Anakin knew he had ignored Obi-Wan's direct orders, abandoned his men, and put himself at risk. However, he had needed that fight to feel confident again. Besides, with the control center wiped out, the droids floundered on the battlefield, their formations falling apart.

"I..." Anakin's voice trailed off when Obi-Wan approached him, his eyes narrowed and agitation visible in his posture and present in his scent.

"You?" he echoed, his pleasant tone faked.

Anakin swallowed dryly, the decreasing distance between them doing odd things to his stomach. Obi-Wan's eyes demanded an apology and surrender rather than justifications. And Anakin was sorely tempted to comply, his scent growing mellow and his heart rate slowing.

"Well, let me hear it, Ah-nakin," Obi-Wan goaded him.

A shiver ran down Anakin's spine, the way Obi-Wan said his name tempting him to bare his throat. Had Obi-Wan always used his name this frequently? However, the need to please -- please? What in the Sith Hells? -- Obi-Wan was weaker than his petulance. Sullenly, he looked at Obi-Wan.

"I went to take out the tactical droid. It was the right course of action," Anakin grumbled.

"Was it now?" Obi-Wan asked mildly.

"It was," Anakin insisted despite knowing Obi-Wan would verbally eviscerate him. "Look, the battle is already over. I did well."

"You did well?" Obi-Wan echoed incredulously. Anakin wrung his hands, swallowing thickly. Horrified, he realized he might cry. Slowly, he exhaled, the breath shuddering in his throat. "You abandoned your men and your Padawan."

A dry sob tore from Anakin's throat. But he refused to cry, so he could only lean into the disappointment coursing through him. "I tried," he argued loudly.

"You tried to listen, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked. "You either listen or you don't. Or is it that you listen and choose to ignore my orders, Anakin? Because I believe that is the issue here. You certainly don't give me any reason to think otherwise."

"Can't you trust that I knew what I was doing?" Anakin asked through gritted teeth. Panic bubbled in his stomach, foreign and distracting.

"All I know is that I cannot trust you to heed me," Obi-Wan retorted. "If I can't trust you to follow our plans, I cannot rely on you, Anakin."

Obi-Wan's rebuke echoed in his mind, and Anakin reared back in shock. His disappointment and regret swallowed him alive, but this wasn't his fault. Fear turned to anger like a switch was flipped in his mind. Ruled by his emotions, he launched himself at Obi-Wan in an angry impulse. He hadn't planned ahead; he only wanted to maim like Obi-Wan had hurt him.

His loss of self-control wasn't alpha aggression, he recognized dimly.

Obi-Wan didn't budge, unimpressed by Anakin lunging for him with his hands balled into fists. Instead, he grabbed Anakin's wrists and held them in a durasteel hold above their heads. Disoriented, Anakin growled at Obi-Wan, accidentally meeting slate-gray eyes. Obi-Wan was steadfast and calm, undeterred by Anakin's snarling, but any alpha should be provoked if challenged by a...

By what?

An odd noise escaped past Anakin's snarl, oddly submissive. And Obi-Wan's eyes turned calculating, his lips twisting into a smug smirk that made Anakin's blood boil. Using his weight, Anakin leaned in Obi-Wan's grip to force him back. Instead of offering resistance like an alpha should, Obi-Wan released his hands and twisted away. Unprepared for the lack of resistance, Anakin stumbled forward, tripping over Obi-Wan's feet.

He knew Obi-Wan saw the betrayal on his face as he staggered forward. Then, a hand clamped around the back of his neck. 

His mouth opened and closed around ragged breaths as he felt Obi-Wan's palm against his skin, the fingers digging threateningly. Despite knowing he had to fight back, he couldn't move against the warm and calloused hand scruffing him, teasing submission from him. A submission Anakin couldn't possibly give but showed anyway.

Obi-Wan scruffing him again shouldn't feel so good. Nor should Anakin be consumed by memories of Obi-Wan's teeth pinning him to the floor, exerting minimal pressure to avoid breaking skin. Obi-Wan's grip had been similarly unyielding, making Anakin's surrender absolute and unconditional. He recalled how each breath had fanned against the floor, Obi-Wan's weight and fangs pinning him in place. Dryly, he sobbed, all the strength leaving his body until he slumped forward, his eyes slipping shut. Instead of collapsing in the sand, Obi-Wan caught him, letting Anakin drape against his side.

Although Anakin growled weakly, Obi-Wan didn't pay him any attention.

"Yes, yes," Obi-Wan said. "I know this isn't ideal, dear."

Anakin couldn't argue; he could only lean heavily against Obi-Wan, letting his head rest in the uncompromising hold on his neck, which told him to yield. Anakin watched Obi-Wan's side profile through heavy-lidded eyes.

"I can only let you go if you promise you will not snap, Anakin," the alpha warned him, and in a surprising show of submission, Anakin complied without protest. His head lolled to meet Obi-Wan's gaze. Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose in surprise and satisfaction, making Anakin's toes curl in his boots.

This was silly. Anakin shouldn't want to please an alpha who had just challenged him openly. Yet, he sagged against Obi-Wan's side, leaning all his weight on a broad shoulder. He felt pleasantly helpless -- an oxymoron.

Anakin's entire existence was an incongruity, an ever-escalating mess that he couldn't stop. Thickly, Anakin swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Obi-Wan looked aghast, stunned, and fascinated.

"Time to let you go, then," Obi-Wan decided, his voice gravelly with an edge of alpha that sent shivers down Anakin's spine. "Post-haste," he added darkly.

Obi-Wan released his hold on Anakin's neck and stepped back hurriedly. Unable to carry his weight, Anakin sank to his knees, the sand hot through his pants.

Stars. He had attacked Obi-Wan.

Nervously, he dropped his gaze in another show of submission that didn't fit Anakin. However, Obi-Wan didn't comment on it. Anakin supposed he had rejected Obi-Wan's offer to talk too often, and Obi-Wan had given up.

Persistence would border dangerously on attachment, after all. Instead of familiar anger over Obi-Wan's strict adherence to the Code or the unfairness of it all, he burnt with the need for reassurance and comfort.

How strange that the person who made him anxious was also the only place he could feel safe. Anakin's pheromones slanted to delicate, far too mild for an alpha, and Anakin saw Obi-Wan jolt. Immediately, Obi-Wan's surprise was hidden behind a neutral mask. Anakin anticipated more questions. He feared he may cave in if Obi-Wan used the right pitch and infused his concerned questions with enough warmth.

To Anakin's intense relief and disappointment, Obi-Wan didn't react. Instead, Obi-Wan turned to the valley where the battle had wrapped up. Before Obi-Wan could resume issuing commands, a large explosion echoed against the dunes. Smoke billowed behind their lines, partly concealing the durasteel debris flung through the dunes.

Anakin scrambled to his feet, ignoring his trembling and weak knees as he joined Obi-Wan on the ridge.

 
"What happened?" he asked, his voice oddly pitched. The familiar alpha tenor had disappeared, leaving a whiny albeit oddly melodious cadence behind.

"The gunships were targeted," Obi-Wan said grimly. "We're lucky we haven't started boarding yet."

Anakin nodded dumbly. On the horizon a sand storm brewed, casting the sky in shades of pale gray and drab brown. Of course, when disaster struck it was never alone.

"Now, what, Master?"

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

"Anakin, no," Obi-Wan said. However, he had the air of someone already resigned to his fate.

"Anakin, yes," Anakin said, grinning at his handiwork.

"You'll finish what the Separatists started," Obi-Wan bemoaned.

"Oh, come on. It's perfectly safe, Master."

Anakin had constructed a functional spaceship from the debris in the middle of a starting sand storm, which disrupted communication with the Resolute in orbit around the planet. Admittedly, the ship looked rickety, but she would make the trip to the Resolute.

"I'll be the judge of that," Obi-Wan grumbled, but he did board the shuttle. Anakin followed him. At the top of the ramp, he turned to Ahsoka and the men.

"Go," Ahsoka said, gesturing for Anakin to enter the spaceship. Covered in grime, dust, sand, and soot, Ahsoka looked confident. He smiled at her, intensely relieved a good fight had sorted Ahsoka out. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same about his predicament. "We'll be fine... If you don't forget to send new gunships to the surface, Skyguy."

With a nod, Anakin ducked inside the makeshift spaceship.

"What shall we call her, Master?" he asked cheekily. Obi-Wan sighed as Anakin dropped in the pilot's seat.

"Just try not to kill us with this death trap."

"Maybe I'll call her the Guardian Angel."

Obi-Wan's involuntary snort was the victory Anakin had looked for. Smiling, he initiated the starting sequence. Despite Obi-Wan's reservations, they reached the Resolute without a hitch. Softly, the ship landed in the hangar with all passengers intact.

"Well?" he demanded approval smugly. "We all lived."

"Yes, yes," Obi-Wan said. "Very well done, Anakin."

Anakin's stomach dropped, his fingers flexing unconsciously on the steering yoke. Obi-Wan's praise was always a treat to listen to -- it was usually given with great reluctance and the knowledge that Anakin would gloat. Instead of grinning, he swallowed thickly, his mouth dry despite the pooling saliva. His canines ached -- usually, an indication his alpha fangs had dropped, but running his tongue over his teeth confirmed the canines hadn't budged.

Worse was the heat gathering low in his belly, his deflated knot throbbing in tune with his heartbeat, which pounded in the hollow of his throat. Obi-Wan's praise had never felt so good he would derive physical pleasure from it, and all these changes disoriented him. However, this lightheadedness could be partly attributed to the blood rushing South and his cheeks, which felt alarmingly hot.

Obi-Wan didn't notice Anakin's visceral reaction. "Why you consider getting us here without crashing and burning such an achievement is beyond me, though. Gloating does not become a Jedi, Anakin."

"I'm only stating facts, Master," Anakin said, enjoying Obi-Wan's attention. His voice was a little shaky, and the words sticky in his mouth, but again, Obi-Wan didn't acknowledge the strange, whiny tone in Anakin's voice. Perhaps, he assumed Anakin had retreated petulantly, dissatisfied with the added admonishment.

"Behave, Anakin. I wouldn't want to have to drag you to the bridge by the scruff of your neck."

Anakin, who had been in the process of lifting to his feet, collapsed in the pilot's seat. His breathing was shallow and ragged as he stared helplessly and wide-eyed at the steering yoke. Without his permission, his head went too heavy to support, and his thighs parted. Nothing could stop his head from lolling on his shoulder, the baring of his throat in complete surrender delightful rather than humiliating. The desire pooled low in his guts made him want to buck his hips like any alpha mounting an omega would, but he had gone boneless, utterly relaxed as if he were the omega being fucked into.

His breath shuddered at the mental image this thought conjured.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked worriedly.

The way Obi-Wan pronounced his name shouldn't affect him. Undeniably, it affected Anakin worse than the threat of getting scruffed again. Obi-Wan wrapped each syllable in his Coruscanti accent, his mild tone hiding a warning like velvet over durasteel.

"I'm fine," Anakin deflected Obi-Wan's concern, his voice so breathless both knew this was a lie.

But Obi-Wan relented, as he always did.

"If you say so," he responded because Obi-Wan had done his duty as former Master and confirmed Anakin was at least coherent enough to talk. This shouldn't sting as it worked in Anakin's favor, but he wanted Obi-Wan to care.

No. No. This was Obi-Wan's brand of care, but Anakin needed more. More used to be recognition and a sense of equality. As he sat slumped in the pilot's seat, forcing his body out of its relaxed state, he knew his upset hormones made him hunger for something else. Because he craved a hand around the back of his neck or a good scenting.

No proper alpha would allow another alpha to rub their pheromones on them. It was not done. But Anakin had caught a whiff of Obi-Wan's scent as Obi-Wan leaned into his personal space, which was oh-so-reassuring.

With one last concerned glance, Obi-Wan flicked off a lever Anakin had forgotten.

"We should get started on arranging the logistics of getting everyone back aboard," Obi-Wan decided.

"Yes," he muttered hoarsely, stumbling after Obi-Wan.

He felt wired and too big for his skin. As he stepped from the ramp, Obi-Wan waited for him. The hand landing on his shoulder wasn't new. However, he had never realized how close his shoulder was to his neck. Now, Obi-Wan's pinky rested against the base of his neck.

"How about a spar later?" Obi-Wan suggested, probably believing Anakin was suffering from too much pent-up energy or alpha aggression. Refusing would only arouse more suspicion, so Anakin nodded. Later, he could figure out how he was supposed to spar with Obi-Wan when he was both intimidated and comforted by Obi-Wan's proximity.

"Good. Wouldn't want you to go feral," Obi-Wan said.

Anakin would have protested that he wasn't in danger of going feral ever again. And he would have. If only he could stop focusing on Obi-Wan. Alas, he was hyper-aware of Obi-Wan's solid warmth behind him while they walked to the bridge. Obi-Wan's pinky had retreated as his hand had slipped from Anakin's shoulder, but his neck burnt.

The realization he wanted this sat heavily in his stomach. Want seemed such an inadequate description for his yearning. He starved, but he could only watch from a safe distance.

Until they would spar, of course. Then, Obi-Wan would place himself squarely in Anakin's personal space, and Anakin dreaded how he would react to the proximity and adrenaline of a good spar. 

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

His breath puffed in hot bursts against the tiled sonic wall, frustration prompting a low growl that vibrated in his chest. Nothing worked.

He couldn't pop a knot. Weakly, he sagged against the wall, his hand accidentally running through the watery and clear semen. Grimacing, he staggered away, leaning against the opposite wall instead.

This was supposed to help him calm down before he sparred with Obi-Wan since the memories of how he had lunged at Obi-Wan were still fresh in his mind. That couldn't happen again. Although Obi-Wan hadn't been angry -- he had offered to spar to help Anakin relax instead of lecturing him -- Anakin knew such good fortune couldn't last.

Because Obi-Wan was applying new tactics to discover what was wrong with Anakin. Eventually, he would figure out the truth, no matter how outlandish and outrageous Anakin's predicament was. Defeated, he switched on the sonic, his stomach still churning after his ruined orgasm while need thrummed under his skin, an itch that was near impossible to ignore.

He gritted his teeth.

Predictably, his mood hadn't improved as he headed to a training hall. He still felt meek, the unease simmering under Anakin's skin aggravated by the crowded hallways. Although the action was over with everyone back aboard the Resolute, Obi-Wan hadn't shown signs of returning to the Negotiator.

Maybe he would after they sparred.

Anakin refused to investigate the panic lancing through him at the prospect of being alone. After all, he wouldn't be alone. His men and Ahsoka were there. But it was Obi-Wan's presence he needed.

Obi-Wan waited for him in the hall. Rather than sitting in the center of the hall, meditating, he stalked through the room, pacing like a caged animal. Confused, Anakin lingered on the threshold, following Obi-Wan with his gaze. As soon as Obi-Wan noticed his presence, he slowed and smiled.

"There you are."

"Ready to get trounced?" Anakin challenged, eager to release the jittery energy that made him uneasy.

"Are you?"

A shudder ran down Anakin's spine, the muscles in his abdomen jumping as Obi-Wan returned the challenge, his tone more threatening than Anakin's brashness. This was a promise, and Anakin nodded before he could stop himself.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows quirked. Nervously, Anakin cleared his throat. Before he could incriminate himself further, he reached for his lightsaber, rushing Obi-Wan as soon as the hilt rested in his palm. Obi-Wan was ready for him, letting Anakin's blade crash against his. Both blades sparked, blinding Anakin briefly.

"This is hardly proper dueling," Obi-Wan protested. "I suggested sparring, Anakin, not a free-for-all brawl."

"Scared you will lose?" Anakin taunted because he couldn't show any vulnerability here.

"Ah-nakin."

Anakin mewled. He actually mewled, and there was no hiding the high-pitched whimper. Obi-Wan had uttered his name like a caress, like a hand clamped around the back of his neck, like a warning and a promise.

"Why don't you tell me what you are hiding?" Obi-Wan asked. Their lightsabers remained connected as they circled each other.

"There's nothing."

"Anakin, I'm trying to help you."

"Maybe I don't need your help, Master. Perhaps I have everything under control. Now, fight me."

"Anakin, this will not end well for you," Obi-Wan warned him, using Anakin's karked name for the millionth time.

He hated it; he loved it. The urge to tip his throat back overwhelmed him, a confession burning on his lips accompanied by a plea.

"Test me," Anakin challenged through gritted teeth.

"Don't do that," Obi-Wan warned him, his eyes narrowed though his expression remained mild.

"Or else?"

"I scruffed you twice already. Do not presume I won't do so a third time if you keep acting out." 

And Anakin finally leaned into the impulse that told him oh-so-insistently to tip his head back to give Obi-Wan unfettered access to his throat.

"Ah-nakin," Obi-Wan hissed, audibly shocked at the submission Anakin had offered. "I meant... never mind."

"But Master," Anakin panted, his voice embarrassingly breathless.

Obi-Wan reached for his shoulder to steady him when Anakin stumbled. While Obi-Wan's palm rested on Anakin's shoulder, his pinky rested securely against the back of Anakin's neck, applying faint pressure. A soft sigh escaped Anakin, telling Anakin his lips had gone slack and parted. His lightsaber clattered to the floor, momentarily forgotten. Anakin didn't know whether Obi-Wan had expected resistance or compliance. Either way, Obi-Wan wasn't prepared for Anakin's knees to buckle.

As his knees gave out, an unwelcome epiphany assaulted Anakin.

He liked this; he had missed a touch against the back of his neck with such an intensity it had haunted him. And having Obi-Wan's hand return, even if it was just a pink, calmed him down. Any residual alpha aggression seeped out of him, the restlessness and agitation gone as he panted wetly against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Obi-Wan's other hand had come up around his waist to keep him pinned against Obi-Wan's side. Although it stopped Anakin's graceless descent to the floor, it also meant that every part of Anakin was flush against Obi-Wan.

"Anakin. Darling," he said in an urgent voice. "What's wrong?"

Obi-Wan's hand against his neck was wrong. Obi-Wan calling him darling was worse. Because Anakin's mind, already awfully blank, just stopped working altogether. He could only tip his head back from where it rested on Obi-Wan's shoulder to stare at his Master dumbly.

He had to answer before Obi-Wan grew suspicious, but he feared he would whimper and whine, all needy and oh-so-willing, if he opened his mouth.

"I'm fine," he gasped.

Obi-Wan's deadpan expression told him the lie hadn't convinced anyone. Nonetheless, he relented. Carefully, he released his grip on Anakin, who swayed before he regained his balance. Then, Obi-Wan twirled his lightsaber before he sank into the opening stance of soresu.

"We'll see," he said, the only indication he hadn't dropped the issue altogether. Gritting his teeth, Anakin squatted, only recalling he could have used the Force to call his lightsaber to his hand when his knees hit the floor hard.

Slowly, he struggled upright again, the tip of his lightsaber shaking damningly when the blade ignited. His knees trembled, his instincts were going haywire, and arousal left him breathless. This wouldn't be a fair fight, and Obi-Wan knew.

Nevertheless, Anakin resolved to put up a good fight. He lost his lightsaber less than a minute into the duel and was pinned to the floor a few seconds later. His stomach rested against the floor, pinned by a knee digging harshly into the small of his back. Obi-Wan's lightsaber was a hot brand hovering near his neck.

Anakin's defeat was undeniable. All that was left to do was yield. And Anakin's body begged to yield and surrender to the alpha. Moving with a lit lightsaber centimeters away from his neck was madness, so Obi-Wan's knee lifted slightly to put less pressure on Anakin's back. Since Anakin's defeat was absolute, Obi-Wan must believe Anakin had yielded already. Furthermore, Anakin had gone lax in an automatic reaction to Obi-Wan leaning over him.

However, he hadn't said anything yet.

Only a fool would move. Leaning into a lit lightsaber was terribly stupid. Anakin bucked his hips anyway. Gracefully, he raised his hips from the floor and rolled them to dislodge Obi-Wan. Using war-honed reflexes, Obi-Wan dropped his lightsaber to avoid beheading Anakin, and the hilt dropped to the floor with a loud clatter.

While Obi-Wan tried not to accidentally kill Anakin, Anakin rolled them around until he lay plastered over Obi-Wan's front. Then, he paused, looking down at Obi-Wan. He hadn't expected to get this far. Now, he found himself floundering, his stomach collapsing into a black hole when Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes.

Their lightsaber duel turned into a brawl, both wrestling to get a grip on the other. Their grappling ended with Anakin pinned to the floor on his side. Obi-Wan rested on top of him, his full weight keeping Anakin immobile.

Obi-Wan's rapid breathing was hot against his throat, and Anakin let his head fall to the mats, exposing his mating gland, his throat straining under the stretch. Anakin refused to acknowledge the part of him that wanted Obi-Wan's teeth on his neck ever since Obi-Wan had first teased surrender from his body.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "I could have killed you, Anakin. Yield."

Anakin bared his teeth, not to challenge but to play, moved by unfamiliar instincts. He didn't know what he wanted from this exchange, but he hoped.

"Now," Obi-Wan snarled. "Yield. Do not make me repeat myself, Anakin."

Rather than responding, Anakin used the limited movement of his head to snap his teeth at Obi-Wan's throat lazily. Filled with giddiness, he waited for a reaction, and Obi-Wan didn't disappoint.

"Don't claim I didn't warn you," Obi-Wan told him, his voice pitched low and oh-so-alpha. It should make Anakin bristle. Instead, the dark promise chased shivers down his spine to his toes and fingertips, which flexed.

He nodded.

With a long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan reached for his hair, letting his fingers tangle in Anakin's curls before he wrenched Anakin's head from the ground and closer. Close enough that Obi-Wan's nose brushed over his unmarred mating glad, untouched until this very moment. So very close that Anakin's nose was pressed against the crook of Obi-Wan's throat.

Anakin froze, lying limply on the floor, Obi-Wan's grip on his hair the only thing stopping his head from crashing into the floor. Obi-Wan nuzzled him, and Anakin knew Obi-Wan would inhale lungfuls of his alpha scent, still softened. Anakin's scent would reveal he wouldn't resist or struggle.

Even Anakin was surprised he didn't feel any urge to retaliate. On the contrary, his breathing had slowed while his body had gone limp and pliant. His face rested in the crook of Obi-Wan's neck, turned such that Obi-Wan had free access to Anakin's mating glad. This also meant that Anakin was oh-so-close to Obi-Wan's mating gland. Obi-Wan's alpha pheromones should sting his nose, and the lack of reflexive irritation should alarm Anakin.

Obi-Wan drew a long line over Anakin's mating gland with the tip of his nose.

"Last chance," he whispered, but Anakin was speechless, each breath caught high in his throat. 

Last chance for what?

His fingers flexed on the floor. Although his hips wanted to buck, Obi-Wan's solid weight made moving impossible. Once his subconscious had realized Obi-Wan didn't permit him any rutting, he relaxed fully, each muscle going lax, reminding him of waking up in a warm bed. Rather than a comfortable blanker, Obi-Wan's covered him, his body war-honed and strong. Inescapable.

When had Obi-Wan's body become an object to appreciate and admire with the satisfaction of knowing he was the one who knew it best in the galaxy after years of training?

Oh, Anakin knew.

One forced submission had somehow rewired his brain and convinced it Obi-Wan was his mate. His exhale shuddered in his throat and fanned hot and humid against Obi-Wan's skin. The following inhale tasted of Obi-Wan and alpha musk, of the Temple, ozone, and shampoo.

Before he could stop his body, he already suckled on Obi-Wan's mating gland, applying no pressure. His fangs hadn't elongated, he realized dimly, which was fortunate because Anakin's impulse control was apparently shot.

Obi-Wan would likely claim he had never possessed any, to begin with.

With a last bump of his nose to Anakin's mating gland, possibly in a silent admonishment, Obi-Wan placed sharp fangs against the gland. With his hands resting on Obi-Wan's chest, Anakin could feel every muscle in Obi-Wan's body was poised and tense.

Letting another being so close to one's mating gland was dangerous. Especially an alpha whose fangs could nick the thin skin and seal a bond. Obi-Wan would never let that happen, though. After all, unlike Anakin, Obi-Wan's self-control was impeccable.

The perfect Jedi.

Teeth were replaced by a tongue dragging over his mating gland. Never in his life had Anakin experienced this. Even the grip around the back of his neck paled to the vulnerability of letting another touch his mating gland. And Obi-Wan didn't stop at touching, laving his tongue over the sensitive gland, the bundle of nerves misfiring until Anakin's vision went hazy. Likely, his eyes had rolled back as his head had fallen back further, leaning fully into Obi-Wan's grip because the ceiling refused to come into focus. A dry sob made Anakin heave, but his back couldn't arch, and his hips couldn't snap in instinctive motions. Arousal sat hot in his guts, a relentless pressure, a rapid pulse, and an unignorable need.

Maybe he produced little noises. He knew he was the one who made these weird, high-pitched, pleading little whimpers. This had only served as a demonstration, but Obi-Wan didn't stop, and Anakin couldn't pull away.

He had already yielded, the lack of verbal confirmation notwithstanding.

He didn't want this to stop. Furthermore, Obi-Wan had clamped a hand around the back of his neck, scruffing him to keep him from squirming. Obi-Wan's teeth had returned to his mating gland and neck, and Anakin couldn't move into the soft grip. He couldn't rut against Obi-Wan's thigh because Anakin would die if he couldn't find friction for... Oh, he was hard. 

He sighed against Obi-Wan's throat, no longer suckling but panting wetly instead. Although he was so hard it ached, and he strained against his underwear and pants, his knot wouldn't fill. Like Anakin's retracted fangs, they didn't react to his pleasure. While Obi-Wan's scent slanted spicier, the alpha musk growing fractionally more intense, Anakin smelt too sweet. He smelt off, but Obi-Wan only groaned, and Anakin's hips twitched despite the scruffing and weight pinning him in place.

"Master," he panted, the word muffled by Obi-Wan's throat. Obi-Wan applied more pressure to warn him. A muted mental voice told Anakin it was odd that his constant barrage of provocations had triggered an instinctual reaction from Obi-Wan. With his last shred of clarity, Anakin dismissed the notion as preposterous.

No matter how hard Anakin pushed, Obi-Wan would never lose his cool.

The extra pressure made him twitch in his pants, the lack of knot both pleasurable and frustrating. His cock throbbed, blood pooled low in his groin, beating in a second pulse that should fill his knot. Anakin mewled, desperately moving in Obi-Wan's grip, panting as he was on the edge of coming in his pants. He needed friction, but Obi-Wan didn't give him any.

 Obi-Wan couldn't have accounted for Anakin's wiggling. Sharp canines buried deeply into Anakin's mating gland. Alpha saliva mixed with the blood sluggishly welling from the pinpricks. A high-pitched, reedy noise was forced past Anakin's lips, wet with the drool gathering in his mouth. With Obi-Wan's alpha fangs buried deep in his throat, he couldn't swallow. Neither could he remember how to as his mind flooded with hormones and pleasure so heady it wiped his mind blank. He gasped and trembled in Obi-Wan's grip, fruitlessly squirming as he came in his pants. There was too little come for an alpha, which Anakin appreciated for the first time since he had changed. Still, his pants were soiled, the watery come slowly soaking into the fabric in a growing wet patch.

Obi-Wan rutted against his hip, and an echo of pleasure coursed through Anakin. Even wrung dry, Anakin ached with want and pleasure. Obi-Wan's alpha pheromones messed with him, and he needed a deeper bite.

As an alpha, he should want to bite and claim. Anakin only wanted Obi-Wan to leave a claim that could never be contested. He was Obi-Wan's. But Obi-Wan was his, so only Anakin should give Obi-Wan so much pleasure and carry Obi-Wan's mark.

Obi-Wan was his, but Obi-Wan possessed him turn, and Anakin's submission was natural. He sighed weakly, relishing the teeth in his flesh, which dug even further when Obi-Wan came in long spurts. Through his orgasm, Obi-Wan kept rutting against Anakin's hip. Unbidden, Anakin imagined Obi-Wan knotting him, grinding deep inside Anakin's ass, unable to pull back when oversensitivity would have Anakin sob. Obi-Wan's come soaked right through his clothes into Anakin's pants, hot and wet.

Fuck, Anakin thought. Then, he realized he didn't -- this thought didn't belong to him. His jaw dropped.

Obi-Wan cursed?

Of course, I do, the thought responded. Stars, Anakin.

I love how Obi-Wan says my name.

Then, Anakin realized he heard Obi-Wan's thoughts. Incidentally, this implied Obi-Wan could do the same. All his blood traveled from his softening cock to his cheeks.

Sith-fucking-Hells. They had bonded.

Language, Anakin thought. Except Obi-Wan said this. For Obi-Wan was privy to all of Anakin's thoughts because they had bonded accidentally.

They had bonded. Anakin had never expected to have a mate, and his gut reaction was embarrassing elation. He had accepted that he would never have a mate, that his life would never be like one of those romantic Holo movies, something he had made peace with. But now, he had bonded... with Obi-Wan.

Somehow, he doubted Obi-Wan would be as excited as he was.

Nervously, he shifted, his fingers flexing on the mats. Anakin wished they curled against Obi-Wan's chest instead. The need to bite down further, to keep his mate still and content, crashed into Anakin. Anakin identified it as Obi-Wan's thoughts. Because he also recognized that the one pouring their need to be scruffed more tightly was Anakin.

With time, they could learn to establish proper boundaries and to disentangle their thoughts.

A terrifying notion occurred to Anakin.

What if he thought about his little problem and Obi-Wan overheard?

I knew it.

Confused, Anakin tried to figure out what he knew. Belatedly, he realized this thought originated from Obi-Wan, who had eavesdropped.

I can hardly help it, Anakin.

Well, I'm not snooping on your thoughts, Master.

Maybe you should stop projecting your thoughts.

Obi-Wan sighed, his breath cold against Anakin's mating gland, and Anakin keened.

Master. Mate.

Obi-Wan's hand slipped from the back of his neck to his cheekbone, stroking him before dislodging his fangs from Anakin's throat. Wetness trickled sluggishly down Anakin's throat. Was it blood or saliva?

"Blood," Obi-Wan responded lowly, his voice gravelly with want, guilt, and a deep satisfaction that was pure alpha instinct. After some nudging on this new connection, Anakin could tell that Obi-Wan had popped a knot -- unlike Anakin.

Privacy, Obi-Wan warned him.

Well, you read my thoughts, too.

Because you yelled them, Anakin. I didn't go rooting around in your mind despite...

Despite what? Anakin demanded, focusing on the bond as he tried to control this new connection. Obi-Wan's hand returned to tangle in Anakin's hair, forcing eye contact. Nerves sat heavily in Anakin's stomach, his eyes tracing Obi-Wan's face before settling on slate gray eyes.

 Meeting Obi-Wan's gaze was impossible, and Anakin lasted only a few seconds before his gaze settled on Obi-Wan's lips, slick with saliva and reddish with blood. A shudder ran down his spine. Obi-Wan's fangs had been buried in his throat, leaving a permanent mark on his scent gland.

Distracted, he stopped prodding the connection, staring at Obi-Wan's lips enchantingly. After mating someone, Obi-Wan's fangs wouldn't retract for a while. Curiosity burnt.

Of course, Obi-Wan knew.

More surprising was that Obi-Wan acquiesced without a word of protest, opening his mouth to reveal fangs smeared in red.

Enchanted, Anakin lifted a hand from the floor, reaching for Obi-Wan's fangs, but Obi-Wan closed his mouth before Anakin could touch the elongated canines.

He didn't think he had seen Obi-Wan's fangs before. Or if he had, he hadn't paused to consider them.

"Try to focus," Obi-Wan said as he rolled from Anakin's body on the training mat. Disappointed, Anakin watched Obi-Wan sit cross-legged. Likely, Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to follow his example, but Anakin's body couldn't move, still adjusting to the mating bite and completely relaxed. "We have a problem, Anakin."

Anakin nodded weakly, feeling an odd combination of overheated and cold. They were newly mated, and he craved the skin contact of his mate. He needed comfort and warmth and reassurance, but Obi-Wan had shuffled away.

Although he wanted to listen to Obi-Wan, his gaze went unfocused as he struggled to resist the temptation to use this new connection between their minds to curl up against Obi-Wan's side in spirit. He knew Obi-Wan wouldn't allow Anakin to crawl over to collapse in Obi-Wan's lap, so this was the best alternative.

He knew Obi-Wan would disagree.

He shivered, cold and weary. All his shields had cracked, which exposed him to the many tiny Force signatures on the Resolute. So many consciousnesses pressed against his mind, and he felt cornered, threatened, and flayed open. All his insecurities would spill from his mind like stuffing from a stuffed animal. He felt so damningly vulnerable, like even breathing bruised his soul, each breath overly loud to his ears, another reason he may be scorned.

I can sense your discomfort, Anakin.

Anakin let his eyes slip shut, the mere presence of Obi-Wan in his mind helping him.

I don't feel well, Master.

His thoughts had taken on a whiny quality as he begged silently for what he shouldn't ask for out loud. As Obi-Wan's expression pinched in concern, he could also feel the worry through the bond. Worry was followed by indecisiveness, and Anakin was privy to the flurry of thought that went through Obi-Wan's mind as he weighed their options.

Awed, he waited, intrigued by how systematic and methodological Obi-Wan's brain worked. One eyebrow raised sardonically told Anakin Obi-Wan was well aware that Anakin had focused on the bond connecting them.

Obi-Wan returned the attention, and Anakin finally realized how Obi-Wan had known when Anakin snooped. Obi-Wan's attention felt like bathing in sunlight when the rays would warm the marrow of his bones. Relieved, he sighed, relishing the phantom proximity.

The need to be close to his mate lessened, satisfied by this contact. It wasn't enough, but the sense of vulnerability grew bearable. Then, Obi-Wan reached for his hand, letting their fingers tangle. Instantly, Anakin no longer felt so off-balance. Anakin didn't move, sagged against the floor, clinging to Obi-Wan's fingers like a youngling. Through the bond, he could tell that Obi-Wan wished to withdraw his hand but maintained the skin contact to soothe Anakin. While Anakin appreciated this mercy, he wanted Obi-Wan to want.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, an awkward quiet invading the training hall. Unfortunately, it wasn't silent, for even as neither spoke, they still thought.

Those thoughts were now communicated.

So, Anakin knew Obi-Wan stewed in guilt and faint horror as if the idea of being mated to Anakin was horrifying. Possibly, Obi-Wan was repulsed by the bond.

Obi-Wan would likely feel Anakin's hurt, but he couldn't stop feeling these stupid emotions because it would be more convenient for Obi-Wan. Kriff the Jedi Code.

"Ah-nakin," Obi-Wan said out loud.

"Oh, do go on. Tell me how disappointed you are to be bonded to me," Anakin snapped. "How disappointed you are in me in general."

Obi-Wan would have responded, likely giving Anakin a deadpan reply, but Anakin struggled to his knees. He was exhausted and needed his mate's care, but Anakin couldn't stay here. Obi-Wan wouldn't give him anything but scraps because he pitied Anakin.

Going from his knees to his feet proved even harder, and strange, needy sounds slipped past his lips as he swayed on his feet, his shoulders hunched so he could cradle his stomach. Anakin felt sick, and only Obi-Wan could help him.

If they were real mates, Obi-Wan would have gone into a rut now. Apparently, Anakin was so appalling that the physiological reaction to placing a mating bond didn't occur in Obi-Wan.

Part of Anakin wanted to stay so he could scream, cry, and bargain with Obi-Wan. However, he knew how futile this would be. So, he staggered to the exit of the training hall instead.

"Anakin, stay please," Obi-Wan called after him. It wasn't a demand. In fact, it was barely a request, Obi-Wan's defeated tone indicating he didn't expect Anakin to listen. But Anakin was compelled to listen to his mate, so he stopped and swayed on his feet, equally surprised by his compliance.

When he turned around, Obi-Wan looked defeated. "We shouldn't part, Anakin."

Shouldn't.

"Because either of us suffering bondsickness would be oh-so-very-inconvenient for you?" Anakin demanded, his heart chipping a little more.

"No," Obi-Wan denied. "As unconventional as this situation is, I know this means more to you than I could have imagined. And I want to do this right for you."

Great. Now, Obi-Wan accused him of being a terrible Jedi, and he was right.

"You know that is not what I mean, darling."

"I don't!" Anakin hadn't intended to yell, but his frustration had boiled over. "I don't know because you... you..."

He gestured helplessly, horrified by the stinging in his eyes and the welling tears. Anakin didn't know how Obi-Wan experienced the echo of Anakin's riotous emotions through their bond. Preferably, he would never figure out because Anakin had already humiliated himself more than he had believed possible.

Clearly, Anakin was the only one who cherished this fledgling bond. Obi-Wan only tolerated it because the bond was permanent.

"You bit me!" he accused loudly.

"I know, Anakin," he said, meeting Anakin's gaze solemnly. Through their bond, Anakin could feel overwhelming guilt. "I betrayed your trust. Nothing can undo what I've done to you, but I will report myself to the Council."

Anakin's mind had gone blank. Obi-Wan's lips twisted into a grin -- but it was a mirthless thing. Slowly, he lifted to his feet to approach Anakin, and Anakin swallowed dryly, the decreasing space between them a threat.

Obi-Wan wasn't a predator and wouldn't corner him. Nevertheless, Anakin felt like prey. His heart pounded in the hollow of his throat as he was caught on the precipice between anxiety and unintentional arousal. Obi-Wan's slate gray eyes had always reminded him of a silent lake or tranquil, overcast skies on an early spring day. Now, they were stormy, dark, and turbulent.

"Master?" he asked uncertainly, the word rasping in his dry throat.

When Obi-Wan was so close the tips of their boots almost kissed, he narrowed his eyes at Anakin. Rooted to his spot, Anakin couldn't break the prolonged eye contact.

"You are nervous," Obi-Wan stated.

Anakin tripped over his feet when he stepped backward, barely regaining his balance before he crumpled to the floor.

"Don't," he said weakly.

Don't look too closely, Anakin begged silently.

Anakin understood very well Obi-Wan loathed their bond. Obi-Wan's overwhelming guilt was the final nail in the coffin. So, Obi-Wan could never ever learn Anakin had been jubilant to discover he had a mate. 

Obi-Wan had never wanted this. He would never purposefully break the Jedi Code or take a mate. Furthermore, he would never have wanted Anakin as his mate. Admittedly, Anakin had never considered bonding with Obi-Wan before. However, Obi-Wan's disappointment hurt sharply like acid or lightsaber burns. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan was his mate forever.

And Anakin wasn't disappointed.

I'm so sorry, Anakin. I keep hurting you. I'm not disappointed in you. How could I? Darling, dearest, please don't cry. It pains me so.

Sniffling, Anakin looked up, the panic settling, and his frustrated tears drying.

Obi-Wan's relief couldn't be faked, and Anakin dared hope cautiously. So, he didn't resist when Obi-Wan sat down and invited Anakin to join him. Perhaps he hadn't intended for Anakin to collapse in Obi-Wan's lap. Anakin did so anyway. Obi-Wan didn't protest.

"I'm only disappointed in myself for forcing this on you," Obi-Wan whispered as he helped Anakin settle in his lap. Anakin clung to the lapels of Obi-Wan's tunic, listening contentedly to Obi-Wan's confession and heartbeat.

"Okay," he slurred, suddenly too exhausted to keep his eyes open. "You didn't force me, though."

"We can talk later," Obi-Wan murmured, and Anakin agreed. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, soaking up Obi-Wan's body warmth and the comfort of his touch. In Obi-Wan's arms, he felt secure. Snuggling closer to Obi-Wan, testing what Obi-Wan would allow, those persistent insecurities were finally silenced. Obi-Wan allowed everything.

Anakin couldn't imagine being without a mate anymore, the bond a reassurance he relied on gratefully. Rather than retreat, Obi-Wan welcomed him, offering freely.

Chapter Text

Languidly, Anakin snoozed, awake and alert but happy to pretend otherwise. Curled around and over him, Obi-Wan was still asleep, his deep breaths fanning against Anakin's neck.

Anakin hadn't realized how deeply the pervasive sense of vulnerability had bothered him, how it had occupied his thoughts to the point of obsession. As the insecurities were silent, his alpha hindbrain convinced it was secure in Obi-Wan's smothering hold, Anakin could think again.

After his... outburst during their sparring session, Obi-Wan capitulated entirely, giving Anakin everything he wanted as soon as he thought of it.

As unconventional as this situation is, I know this means more to you than I could have imagined. And I want to do this right for you.

He mulled over Obi-Wan's words. Initially, in the heat of the moment, still high on the hormones of their mating, he had interpreted it as a rejection.

His heart and alpha had howled because their mate had rejected them. So, he had lashed out, determined to retaliate in kind. Sullenly, he considered how badly he had humiliated himself while trying to save face. On a positive note, Anakin didn't think Obi-Wan had rejected him anymore.

Not outright or in the parameters usually associated with rejecting a mate or bond. However, he had no idea what Obi-Wan's promise entailed. At least, it included cuddling. Gingerly, Anakin burrowed against Obi-Wan's chest, and the arm slung over his waist tightened to pull him closer. Although Obi-Wan was still asleep, his nose found Anakin's mating gland.

As an alpha, Anakin was more liable to rip someone's throat out than letting someone sniff his mating gland. However, he was happy to receive Obi-Wan's attention, and the gentle nosing of his mating gland made him boneless and content.

And his pheromones would communicate he was a puddle of laziness. Obi-Wan hummed lowly, apparently content with Anakin's bliss. The rumbling alpha purr vibrating against his back made Anakin's mind go blissfully empty.

He was too comfortable to move despite the uncomfortable training mats, the state of their clothes, and the dull ache in his mating gland from Obi-Wan's bite. His clothes and body were sticky with dried come, which flaked and stained. Also, the training hall was cold and open. However, Anakin knew if he shifted even one muscle, he would never find this same position again.

Despite his best intentions, he couldn't help squirming when Obi-Wan's nose rubbed over the sensitive mark on his mating gland. One inconspicuous mark revealed to the galaxy they were bonded. As Anakin's hips bucked, a dry sob tore through his throat.

Darling, dearest, please don't cry. It pains me so.

His memories were riling him up further, and the bond crackled with Obi-Wan on the precipice of waking up after Anakin's hips started rutting minutely.

Then, Obi-Wan's commlink went off, chirping once, and Anakin jolted before staring at the flickering green light of Obi-Wan's commlink in betrayal. The arm slung over his waist retreated, taking the commlink with it as Obi-Wan rolled on his back.

Obi-Wan's aggrieved sigh soothed a part of Anakin that already hungered for skin contact from his mate. Intrigued, he watched Obi-Wan sit up and run a hand over his face before accepting the call.

"Kenobi here," he said, his voice hoarse and gruff with sleep. A shudder ran up Anakin's spine, forcing a soft gasp from his lungs as his back arched. Immediately, Obi-Wan's gaze flicked from the commlink to Anakin, still sprawled on the training mats. Anakin shivered when Obi-Wan's gaze turned intense enough to burn.

"Obi-Wan," Windu's greeted. Simultaneously, a small Holo projection of Windu appeared over Obi-Wan's commlink, inclining its head in a formal greeting. Obi-Wan was too slow to return the gesture, his attention still visibly divided between Anakin and the call. When Anakin crawled towards Obi-Wan, curious about the call, Obi-Wan appeared to forget the call altogether, the hand holding the commlink lowering.

Driven by a need for contact and comfort, Anakin moved closer sluggishly.

Is he okay?

I'm okay, Anakin thought, which seemed simpler than talking. Need you, his traitorous mind added.

Oh. That's okay, Obi-Wan responded. While the verbal thought was intended for Anakin, the pleased satisfaction washing through Anakin, originating from Obi-Wan, likely wasn't. A better person would ignore these emotions, but Anakin relished them, so focused on the bond that his muscles gave out. With a surprised hiss, Obi-Wan leaned over precariously, his arm extended so Anakin draped over his forearm. Relieved that he hadn't smashed his nose on the training mats, Anakin lifted his gaze from Obi-Wan's arm. Their gazes met, the bond telling Anakin that Obi-Wan's neutral expression was a front.

Blue eyes. Beautiful. So sweet. Would they still be so blue going cross-eyed with pleasure?

Anakin needed a second to realize this wasn't his thought. Caught between shyness, arousal, and smugness, he smiled at Obi-Wan, who reeled him in with an arm, letting Anakin drape against his side.

"Hello? Are you there?" Windu asked. "These connections keep breaking up. Are you sure this is routed correctly? You didn't just pick a random relay station with a nice name again, Padawan Fenn?"

In the background, too deformed by static, someone protested.

"Hello, Obi-Wan?" Windu tried again.

"I'm here," Obi-wan said, lifting the commlink again. Windu squinted before nodding when the recorder in Obi-Wan's commlink was aimed at Obi-Wan again. Then, his forehead creased.

"I thought Skywalker was... Or are you... Never mind," he said, sounding harried as he picked up a datapad and scrolled until finding what he was looking for. "Ah, here we are. A mission on Kuat. According to our sources, the Separatists are trying to outsource some of their Dreadnoughts to Kuat-Entralla Engineering. If the shipyard sides with the Separatists, we cannot replenish our Star destroyers at our replacement rate."

Windu praised briefly. "The Senate," he began, uttering the words like a curse, "Has decided that you are the right person to dissuade the officials on Kuat from accepting an undoubtedly most generous offer from the Separatists."

Then, after another pause, he added: "The Council agrees."

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I cannot accept this mission, Mace."

No matter how politely one phrased it, one didn't decline a mission from the Council, and Anakin gawked at Obi-Wan. When his gaze darted to the commlink, curious how Windu would take the news, Windu looked shocked.

"I'm sorry?" Windu asked.

He cannot expect me to leave my mate behind shortly after bonding. The distance is too great. What if Anakin needs me? It would take too long. Moreover, Anakin would believe I had somehow requested a mission on the other side of the Mid Rim.

Affronted, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. He would never be so unreasonable.

Oh, yes, you would.

"You should go," Anakin told him, but his gruff tone couldn't hide he was pleased that Obi-Wan was hesitant to accept a mission because of Anakin. Since Obi-Wan had direct access to all of Anakin's thoughts, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan had realized he was secretly preening.

Obi-Wan's exasperation was just as easily identifiable through the bond.

"I will be fine," Anakin said with more confidence than he felt. "Come on, Obi-Wan. You wouldn't want to give me ideas, right? What if I started to refuse missions, too?"

You always did what you wanted, regardless of orders anyway, dearest.

"Hey," Anakin protested.

"We should talk about what happened, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "About yesterday and the events leading up to it," he clarified superfluously.

Then, a realization dawned. Anakin didn't know who thought of it first. However, Anakin knew Obi-Wan would plead guilty to bonding Anakin to Windu as a representative of the Council. And Anakin couldn't allow that to happen.

"No," he protested loudly. "Don't tell the Council."

His fingers gripped Obi-Wan's arm tightly as he tried to plead with Obi-Wan with his eyes and through the bond.

Windu frowned, possibly wondering why they were together and what trouble Anakin had created anew. "Don't tell the Council what?" he asked when Obi-Wan remained quiet.

"Anything," Anakin answered before Obi-Wan could commit to his act of self-sacrifice. He couldn't allow the Council to ruin this bond he had always wanted but never dared yearn for.

"Fine," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin smiled happily. He knew bond lit up with relief when Obi-Wan's conflicted expression softened into fondness.

"No need to pretend to be so pitiful," Obi-Wan grumbled. Since he had obtained what he wanted, Anakin only shrugged.

"What is Skywalker talking about, and why are you refusing this mission, Obi-Wan?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you. However, I will accept the mission. This was purely a... misunderstanding."

Windu blinked once, apparently struck silent by Obi-Wan's response.

"Are you listening to the Council or to Skywalker? From my perspective, it looks like the latter?"

"My apologies, Mace," Obi-Wan said, sounding apologetic.

"That's neither an explanation nor a denial," Windu observed. Then, Windu glanced away, likely listening to someone further away from the call. After a long, pregnant pause, he nodded and turned to the Holo recorder. "Either way. Keep us apprised of the situation on Kuat once you arrive. And I expect to receive a report on whatever shenanigans you have been up to with Skywalker."

"Of course," Obi-Wan agreed.

As the call ended, Anakin watched Obi-Wan closely, waiting for reality to set in for Obi-Wan. However, Obi-Wan looked unfazed by both the call and the bond. While he knew Obi-Wan would keep a calm head, Anakin had expected some apprehension over how inseparable their minds and thoughts had become.

This was far more intrusive than their severed training bond, and Anakin relished the proximity.

"You can't tell the Council," Anakin whispered. No one was around to overhear them, but his voice refused to increase in volume.

"Dear, I took advantage of you. I mated you without consent."

"But I wanted it," Anakin confessed.

"Not before I bonded you," Obi-Wan claimed, and they both knew this to be true irrefutably.

"But now I do, Master. And I don't want the Council to interfere."

"The Council would only act in your best interest, Anakin."

Anakin frowned. "I know what my best interest is," he argued, all alpha fire and Skywalker independence. "It's you."

Obi-Wan fell silent, watching him with an indecipherable expression. However, Anakin knew it was a combination of remorse, pride, exasperation, concern, and... and love.

He hadn't considered Obi-Wan could love him. It hadn't occurred to him that he could love Obi-Wan like that, but he wanted to. It was what all mates did, and Anakin had hungered for a bond -- an unbreakable connection with another person who would never abandon or betray him.

But how could Obi-Wan possibly love him?

"Yet I do, dear," Obi-Wan responded out loud, his voice strained. An implicit love declaration.

Awed, Anakin nodded, relishing in the knowledge Obi-Wan loved him. His mate loved him, and Anakin was undoubtedly the luckiest person alive.

"Well, I suppose I will have to leave," Obi-Wan said, but he didn't move, and Anakin continued leaning against Obi-Wan. Slowly, his head lolled back, his throat straining and the mark aching as he rested on Obi-Wan's shoulder, displaying a level of trust that came naturally to Anakin.

Because it was Obi-Wan. His Master. His mate.

And Obi-Wan turned his head to nuzzle Anakin's throat, leaving his own throat vulnerable to Anakin. Lazily, Anakin lounged, hoping this could last forever.

Forever ended in five minutes and was punctuated with a deep sigh that fanned hot and humid against Anakin's throat. Reluctantly, Anakin fell on his side when Obi-Wan straightened. Anakin didn't want Obi-Wan to leave, but he only managed pitiful whimpers when Obi-Wan disentangled them.

"I know," Obi-Wan tutted, "but I believe you assigned me a mission on Kuat, dearest. I tried to turn it down."

"I was stupid," Anakin lamented, the realization Obi-Wan would leave finally registering.

"While that is not a novelty, your willingness to admit so certainly is," Obi-Wan joked, and Anakin huffed.

"Watch it," he threatened, but his voice lacked bite.

"I'm worried," Obi-Wan said as he stood and tugged on Anakin's arms until Anakin joined him. Curiously, Anakin tilted his head in a silent question. "Bondsickness."

Parting so soon after mating without consummating the bonding would be... a risk. Either could fall pray to bondsickness. However, Obi-Wan still hadn't gone into a rut. Furthermore, Anakin physically couldn't go into heat, so he doubted they would suffer too greatly.

"We should keep contact," Obi-Wan fretted, "a call perhaps."

"Don't worry, Obi-Wan, I'll be fine."

Obi-Wan looked at him, his expression deadpan. "You might be," he said wryly, "but I may not be fine at all, Anakin."

Oh.

This was, of course, very unsettling to hear. Anakin pressed his lips into a thin line to avoid smiling openly, a bright, bubbly feeling welling inside him, a quiet giddiness and pride over this accomplishment. He affected Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan loved him.

"Don't bother trying to hide that smirk," Obi-Wan sighed, "I can feel you gloat, you know?"

"You wouldn't sense anything if you didn't eavesdrop through the bond, Master."

"Then, I suggest you voluntarily tell me what has been bothering you these past few days," Obi-Wan snarked.

Anakin shrugged, and Obi-Wan didn't force the issue, instead focusing on his clothes and grimacing. Suddenly, Anakin was reminded of the mess in his own pants and on his thigh, where Obi-Wan's come had soaked through his pants into Anakin's.

Great.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

"Call me anytime, Anakin," Obi-Wan told him as they stood by Obi-Wan's Starfighter. "Anytime."

"Okay, Master."

"I may never have expected to bond with anyone, but I will give you anything. I may be inexperienced in this field, but I want to be there for you in whatever capacity duty allows."

"I'm not on the verge of dying," Anakin grumbled because only grousing could hide how uneasy he was to see Obi-Wan leave. His indifference was a mask, and he feared the bond revealed how poorly he was taking the separation.

"Perhaps not," Obi-Wan agreed. "I will speak to you soon, Anakin."

"What will we even talk about?" Anakin asked, genuinely curious. They didn't tend to talk, and a daily call seemed daunting.

"One day, we'll have to talk about what bothers you, Anakin."

He loved how Obi-Wan's crisp Coruscanti accent rolled the syllables of his name. He loved Obi-Wan uttering his name.

Also, he was in so much trouble. Obi-Wan refused to drop the issue. Sooner rather than later, Anakin would slip up. One wrong move or show of supplication would reveal how messed up Anakin's body was.

"Messed up in what sense?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice dipping to an arctic register, nearly an alpha command.

Of course, he's evading medbay. What else could it have been? Though, knowing Anakin, it could have been a million other equally concerning things. In fact, this may only be the beginning.

Stars. Obi-Wan had heard him?

Of course, I heard. You're screaming at me.

"I think it's time for you to go," Anakin decided on the spot since he smelt trouble. "We wouldn't want to leave Windu waiting, right?"

Obi-Wan complied with a last glance in Anakin's direction. Anakin regretted not sneaking in a hug as soon as Obi-Wan departed. His heart ached as he watched Obi-Wan's Starfighter leave the hangar.

He shuddered as he rubbed his arms. Reminding himself that he was an independent albeit mated alpha didn't return his confidence. Probably because he was an alpha with a mating bite on his throat, a combination so uncommon no one had noticed despite the prominent mark on his gland.

Obi-Wan was gone, and Anakin suffered from love. Because he loved Obi-Wan. He had only drawn this conclusion when Obi-Wan was already gone, always too late.

Reluctantly, he turned away from the empty hangar. There was no use in lingering here, and his presence was required on the bridge. A strange sensation bothered him, putting him on edge and urging him to steal glances over his shoulders.

Something seemed off, but not in an acute or haunting way. No, like he had misplaced his lightsaber despite knowing it still hung from his belt. Pain shot through his mating gland, and Anakin realized he had rubbed the skin raw without noticing, raking nails over the mark.

Uneasily, he dropped his hand to his side.

It took a conscious effort to stop reaching for Obi-Wan's mark on his throat as he stood on the bridge. Their bond had pulled taut as the distance grew, and Anakin feared the connection would break. Instead, it had faded until Anakin felt isolated in his mind. By all means, this was the status quo, how it had always been. Yet, it felt unnatural. He felt like he had forgotten or lost something undefinable. A word in a language he didn't speak that burnt on the tip of his tongue. As he stood on the bridge overseeing the patrol of the system, he expected someone to stand behind him constantly. The lack of body heat behind him, the absence of a presence, unbalanced him.

His mind chanted a song with repetitive lyrics. I love you, I love you, I love you. It seemed that once he had allowed himself to think of Obi-Wan in terms of love, it consumed him.

Of course, Ahsoka noticed something was amiss. This wasn't necessarily through her keen powers of deduction or observation. No, Anakin kept throwing glances over his shoulder, a subconscious part of him believing he could summon Obi-Wan out of thin air. He always expected Obi-Wan to stand behind him, but he had never realized he relied on Obi-Wan's presence subconsciously. Perhaps this was a fundamental truth Anakin had always ignored because he wanted to be equal, to make Obi-Wan acknowledge him as a peer rather than a pupil.

"Master?"

Absentmindedly, he turned to Ahsoka, who squinted at him, her arms crossed. "Yes?" he asked. He missed Obi-Wan viscerally, the mark on his mating gland throbbing as he longed for his mate's presence. Newly bonded pairs were discouraged from leaving each other's side for a reason. Once the initial high died down, they would both hunger for comfort and support as their bodies and minds adjusted to the unbreakable link connecting them. A link he couldn't even feel with the light-years separating them.

Worse was that the bond remained unconsummated, which only skyrocketed this vulnerability that flayed Anakin open from the inside.

"You seem distracted... Have been for a while, and I wondered whether you blame yourself?"

Whether Anakin blamed himself for Ahsoka going feral. If he hadn't assigned her on a mission that placed her and her squadron at such risk, she wouldn't have. However, Anakin had called her back to the Resolute when things went wrong.

It was his fault for allowing Ahsoka to grow hopelessly attached to her new family.

It was his fault for misjudging the flow of the battle such that Ahsoka's first taste of command and responsibility was tainted with so much death.

It was his fault for never realizing that Ahsoka's state of mind had deteriorated long before the moment she snapped.

So, whether he had called her back to the Resolute didn't matter. Similarly, the fact Ahsoka had ignored his direct order to return was irrelevant.

He had already failed well before that crucial moment.

"I failed you, Snips," he told her, his voice tortured. "This war... it destroys us all."

Ahsoka had looked argumentative before. Now, her expression fell, which she tried to his by avoiding eye-contact. Crestfallen, Anakin watched her turn away.

"Well, yeah," she said. "But that isn't your fault Skyguy. Besides, we'll make it through."

The fire had returned to her voice, and she nodded sharply. Her chin pointed upwards, and Anakin could smell the alpha dominance in the air, his Padawan leaning too much into the instincts that were always ready to brawl, snap, and conquer.

Was this why Ahsoka had gone feral? Has she relied so heavily on instinct that she had discarded her intuition?

"Maybe it's time to meditate," Anakin mused.

Ahsoka's shock made him laugh, the aching bond in his mind momentarily forgotten.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

Anakin had promised to call Obi-Wan each evening. That first night, he forgot.

However, when he woke up, Obi-Wan hadn't called either. He knew he should swallow his pride and call Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan hadn't called him. Furthermore, he felt fine.

As the day progressed and slowly turned into the second night, Anakin felt uneasy. Nevertheless, he could function, so he ignored his commlink, determined to wait until Obi-Wan called him.

Obi-Wan didn't call.

Not on the third night or the fourth night, or any other.

On the seventh morning since Obi-Wan had departed for Kuat, Anakin's jittery energy was wiped out by lethargy. Silently, he stared through the viewport, blind to the stars streaking by. Per the Council's orders, they were recalled to Toydaria to support Master Luminara. The Separatists refused to give up on the planet; it was only a matter of time before Toydaria would side with the Separatists. He leaned his weight against a console near the Holo table, but the map projected above the table couldn't capture his interest.

He sighed, knowing he should listen to the strategy meeting and offer input. After all, he was the general on this ship and, therefore, the highest-ranking officer.

Instead, he was distracted by a heavy weight pressing on his sternum. Behind his sternum, Anakin amended because the ball of melancholy sat behind his ribs, pressing against his organs insistently. He missed Obi-Wan so much that it debilitated him.

How he missed his Master.

The intensity of his longing and melancholy was torture. It was anguish; Anakin couldn't stand it. Bondsickness was setting in swiftly and mercilessly.

He felt feverish and miserable, his mind wandering while he should pay attention. If Obi-Wan strode on the bridge, he would call out to his Master. The officers, clones, and his Padawan would stare at him as he ran to Obi-Wan, but their stares wouldn't deter him or temper his delight. Anakin would collapse against Obi-Wan, his head tipping back, each breath a plea. He could almost feel Obi-Wan's chest under his fingers. Caught up in fantasies, he imagined Obi-Wan would kiss him. A soft kiss hot against Anakin's lips. Everyone would see them kiss and know they were mated. One kiss would guarantee everyone knew they belonged together and shared a bond that wasn't outright forbidden but strongly discouraged nonetheless.

Minutely, he shook his head. A hug was better. Then, Obi-Wan would crush Anakin against his chest, completely enveloping Anakin until all Anakin could smell was Obi-Wan. They would be closer still than with a kiss. The hug would last. He could almost feel Obi-Wan's arms around him as he imagined it. Part of him believed Obi-Wan would stride on the bridge any moment now, oozing an innate confidence. Of course, Obi-Wan would be focused on the meeting first, likely already taking charge of the situation by showing up, but then his gaze would dart to Anakin. In the privacy of his imagination, Anakin could pretend that Obi-Wan would ignore everyone else, all his attention devoted to Anakin alone. As Anakin pushed away from the console, Obi-Wan would change course to intercept Anakin.

He could almost imagine how he would slot into Obi-Wan's arms like they were made to hug and hold hands.

They were mates, after all. And Obi-Wan loved him.

Briefly, Anakin closed his eyes, his misery so potent he almost choked on it. He loved Obi-Wan.

They were mates, but his mate hadn't called in a week, and Anakin was so lonely. He was surrounded by people he could trust, but Obi-Wan was the only one who was his.

Not in a possessive manner but as... knowing someone's habits, expressions, and idiosyncrasies better than you know yourself. What term could describe a decade of breathing in the same air, eating the same meals, and standing side by side or back to back?

They were Obi-Wan and Anakin. Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker. Generals. Friends. Mates.

His exhale dragged through his throat uncomfortably. Wrinkling his nose at the discomfort, he raised a hand to wipe tangled curls from his forehead, sticky with sweat. Once he had started taking stock of his body, he couldn't stop. The longing that was a gnarly, knotted ball of infectious agony was joined by a fever. His forehand was hot to the touch.

That explained why he was so listless, at least. His bondsickness was progressing at a moderate rate. Anakin suspected only his Jedi training had him functioning at all. Obi-Wan had been gone for a week, after all. And he hadn't reached out.

A soft whimper caught in his mouth.

He swallowed it, ignoring the painful clicking of his parched throat.

If only Obi-Wan were here. If only... oh, he was so miserable and pitiful. So small. Oh, how he needed--

The map flickered, and an officer interjected Admiral Yularen.

"We have an incoming call. It's from General Kenobi," the officer interrupted awkwardly. "It's an urgent matter."

"Connect it," Anakin interjected, pushing away from the console on unsteady feet. Aware of everyone's gaze on him but unable to stop, he staggered to the Holo table.

"Understood, sir."

The Holo projector switched to the call, and Anakin couldn't hear beyond the blood rushing in his ears and the promise General Kenobi had called. His attention zeroed in on the Holo table greedily.

Finally, the image loaded, and Anakin drank in the sight of Obi-Wan. He looked near feral, his mouth twisted into a deep scowl, and his eyes narrowed. Something in Anakin unspooled, relaxing for the first time since they had parted. He couldn't look away, absorbing the image like a dying man, his heart aching with longing.

"Admiral," Obi-Wan said, his voice loud on the bridge, and Anakin shivered uncontrollably. He clenched his fists to hide the tremor in his fingers. Belatedly, Anakin realized his entire body shook with anticipation.

Mate, his mind chanted. His mate was here for him. His Master finally called, and Anakin swallowed whimpers and needy whines. He couldn't cry for Obi-Wan's attention while on the bridge -- or ever, really.

"Please tell General Skywalker to switch on his personal commlink," Obi-Wan grated.

General Skywalker.

Anakin's knees went weak. Obi-Wan spitting his name -- incensed and possessive -- was better than he could have imagined. Then, a horrifying realization dawned. He lifted his wrist to his face, blinking at his commlink and realizing the device was switched off.

How long had it been switched off? He hadn't...

"He will heed my order," Obi-Wan added darkly, and Anakin nodded weakly. With trembling fingers, he switched on his commlink, the light flashing green as the device booted.

As soon as the device was online, Anakin saw the missed calls.

Oh.

Obi-Wan had called multiple times. Often. For every night Anakin had missed, Obi-Wan had reached out, unfazed by Anakin's silence. Obi-Wan had tried even when Anakin could not.

Obi-Wan had called. Anakin was in unimaginable trouble. But he could only imagine Obi-Wan's teeth clamping around his vertebrae in a warning.

"Eep," he squeaked, his voice strangely high-pitched. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed, and Anakin knew he had overheard. Distance and the connection distorted the sound Obi-Wan produced in response. Nevertheless, it chased a shiver down Anakin's spine. Helplessly, he stared at Obi-Wan's Holo image, his head lolling back slightly at Obi-Wan's growl.

"Pick up your commlink, Anakin," Obi-Wan snarled, all pretense lost as he addressed Anakin directly, and Anakin nodded desperately despite knowing Obi-Wan couldn't see him.

"Yes, Master," he breathed, though he was usually careful not to call Obi-Wan his Master when the admirals and Republic officers were around. Doing so made him feel like he allowed others to witness a private part of their dynamics, something too intimate to show to outsiders.

"I'm sorry for taking up your time, gentlemen," Obi-Wan added calmly, addressing the crew on the bridge. "Have a good shift."

Then the call cut.

Anakin knew everyone turned in his direction. He could feel their honed focus in the Force. Any explanation he could offer would ultimately incriminate himself further.

He muttered something, possibly an apology, before rushing from the bridge.

In the privacy of his room, he studied the list of missed calls, realizing Obi-Wan had called each night. Or rather, when the night cycle started on the Resolute. Obi-Wan's considerateness, while not novel, moved Anakin to tears.

Sniffling pathetically, he wiped his eyes. If he weren't so emotionally unbalanced, he would never allow himself to be a sobbing mess. Alphas didn't cry. However, the relief that Anakin's mate hadn't abandoned him made him forget his distaste for weakness.

His wounded pride soothed, he called Obi-Wan.

His call was accepted immediately.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed.

Obi-Wan uttered his name like a prayer, making Anakin squirm on his bed and inhale sharply.

"Master," he whispered, his gaze transfixed on Obi-Wan. He couldn't look away from the blue miniature projection of his Master. He was an empty power cell getting charged for the first time in a week, but he grew restless once the lethargy lifted. "I missed you."

"Anakin Skywalker," Obi-Wan said. While Anakin loved Obi-Wan saying his name, he could also predict he was in trouble from the pitch and sharp lilt of Obi-Wan's voice alone. "Mind explaining why your commlink was switched off when I explicitly told you to call me every night?"

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin muttered, reluctant to apologize. "It's... you know. Stuff."

"No, I don't know," Obi-Wan retorted blithely. "Would you humor an old man and explain in great detail, dear?"

Dear.

Anakin's lips mouthed the term of endearment, warmth growing in his chest.

"You aren't old, Master," he protested, hoping Obi-Wan could be convinced to drop the topic. Anakin preferred to avoid revealing his ego had prevented him from calling. Obi-Wan would tease him mercilessly.

"You look unwell, darling," Obi-Wan observed.

"I don't feel well," Anakin admitted petulantly.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, visibly centering himself to keep his composure, and Anakin watched hungrily. He still itched to cross the distance between them to collapse against Obi-Wan's chest, to nuzzle the fabric of his tunics or the skin underneath. All he needed was one hug, but he couldn't even snuggle up to Obi-Wan through their bond, the light-years separating them too great.

"Get under the covers for me, dear heart," Obi-Wan instructed. As a proud alpha, any instructions had made Anakin bristle with the assumption his independence was targeted before. He used to be so sensitive to the suggestion he wasn't respected or forced to submit.

Now, he shifted on his bed to pull the blankets from under his ass and pulled them around himself. Once he was finished arranging them, he returned his attention to Obi-Wan, who had watched him, his expression indulgent. Anakin's heart skipped a beat, feeling oddly warm and shy.

Love, he knew, and it frightened him. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. 

"What next, Master?" he asked, relying on Obi-Wan for more help instinctively -- naturally. It was who they had always been -- how they would always be. Better together, even a galaxy apart.

"How was your past week, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked.

Maybe they should talk about the bond or the love confession neither had voiced out loud. Yet, they never talked about those things. So, instead, Anakin briefed Obi-Wan on the progress they had made and the new mission the Council had assigned them. Returning the favor, Obi-Wan talked about Kuat and the officials whose pockets were already lined.

They didn't discuss the bond, Obi-Wan's plan to report himself, or the love confession Anakin had stolen from Obi-Wan's mind. In fact, Obi-Wan didn't even broach the topic of Anakin's strange behavior before their accidental bonding. Neither would feel comfortable addressing these issues; they never talked about private matters, close yet alienated by a centimeter of propriety. Eventually, they ran out of updates, the conversation winding down.

"Sleep well," Obi-Wan said. And Anakin nodded. It was still early afternoon, but he was so tired, the constant stress of Obi-Wan's absence a gaping wound that tore wider with each passing day.

"May the Force be with you, Master," he said reluctantly, knowing it was still morning for Obi-Wan. Early morning, in fact. Regardless of the ungodly hour on the Negotiator, Obi-Wan had entertained him, never once indicating he should still be asleep.

Maybe insomnia haunted Obi-Wan as doggedly as it had Anakin since the third day.

"And with you, my dear mate," Obi-Wan replied, his voice soft and pitched gently.

It was the first acknowledgment they had bonded, and Anakin grinned sleepily. As soon as the call ended, Anakin yearned for Obi-Wan. Their call had only exacerbated the fathomless misery of missing Obi-Wan so intensely. He rubbed his sternum, but the ball of anguish sat behind his ribs, protected from any attempt to remove it.

He clung to memories of Obi-Wan's voice as he closed his eyes. Despite missing Obi-Wan so dearly, he still slept easily.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

They never used to talk. Now, talking was all they could do as one week of separation slowly grew into three unbearable weeks. When they ran out of superficial small talk, what remained was... impossible.

Silence could only last so long before Anakin would fill it with words, and Obi-Wan listened before answering the questions Anakin had never dared pose.

One evening, nearing the end of the third week, Anakin mentioned his body's reaction to the scruffing unprompted, lulled into a sense of security he knew wasn't false. Maybe Obi-Wan had waited all along, only offering opportunities for Anakin to spill the truth. At this stage, he didn't know whether this truth was ugly, ironic, or amusing. He supposed it was inevitable.

"I didn't expect you to scruff me to help Ahsoka, Master."

Obi-Wan hummed. Although Anakin knew Obi-Wan listened, his Master poured over the datapads scattered over his desk. Somehow, this made the admission easier.

"I had never expected I would like it," Anakin confessed. "And I wanted more despite knowing I shouldn't."

Finally, Obi-Wan lifted his gaze from a datapad. However, he offered neither admonishment nor consolation. Anakin saw Obi-Wan realize, his lips shaping around a silent 'oh'.

"I see," Obi-Wan said roughly.

Anakin nodded once.

He didn't want the call to end, but they always did. He loathed the moment he would be alone again, stewing in perpetual misery.

"I underestimated," Obi-Wan began, a throwaway line that was a confession Anakin had never expected. "I underestimated you," Obi-Wan repeated. Desperation laced his voice, so heady and pleading that Anakin could only listen.

His ribs were wrenched open, viscous want and love spilling from his heart, filling his lungs until he couldn't breathe past his anticipation.

Obi-Wan's Coruscanti voice was so melodious; it was designed for dirty confessions and snide remarks, perfect for praise.

"I underestimated these base instincts, this hunger to have you underneath me, to dominate," he spat, audibly disgusted by the words -- by himself. A shiver ran down Anakin's spine.

"Oh, please," he pleaded, his head falling back, hitting the wall gently. "Master."

"I'm not... I'm more than my instincts," Obi-Wan continued, sounding tortured. "I have to be, Anakin. What I took from you... Anakin, I couldn't stop myself from biting down, but I should have. You deserve more."

Obi-Wan's voice had grown sharper and more collected, indicating he stomped the embers of his base instincts, erasing them while Anakin burnt brighter, each confession Obi-Wan made feeding the fire.

He couldn't allow Obi-Wan to pull away, but Anakin was too worried he would humiliate himself. Obi-Wan sighed, looking collected instead of desperate. Sometimes, Anakin felt so unsure of himself.

"But you're my alpha," he whined, only a faint tremor in his voice. Obi-Wan's head snapped up from the datapad he had focused on, his eyes comically wide.

"Anakin?" he asked hesitantly.

Anakin had only a second to decide to commit or give up.

"I want you here, alpha," he continued. "Your teeth on my neck." He sighed, imagining Obi-Wan was here. "Pin me to the mattress and make me submit."

Once he had started talking, he discovered he couldn't stop. Mortified and hot under the collar, he stared at Obi-Wan's Holo image, pretending he could feel Obi-Wan's weight on top of him. His full-body shiver distorted a dry sob. "I would want that so, so, so much. You're my alpha."

Obi-Wan's shaky exhale echoed in Anakin's cabin.

"Stars," Obi-Wan sighed. "The things you do to me, Anakin."

He was horny, but he couldn't pop a knot. Anakin didn't think he could survive another ruined orgasm, but he couldn't stop his cock from hardening in his pants either, desperate need a thrum under his skin, beating in tune with his fluttering heart. Oh, his knot remained deflated, his fangs retracted, and he felt so odd. Aggression and dominance warred with the wish to bare his throat and go limp and pliant. The base instinct to possess yielded to the desire to be ravaged.

A low growl distracted him from his body. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watched Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's teeth had filled his mouth, the fangs barely visible.

"Wish you would bite me," Anakin said carelessly. "Want your knot."

Obi-Wan remained silent, stunned, and speechless. "Fuck, Anakin," he cursed.

Anakin.

"Love it when you say my name. When I make you curse."

"No knot?" Obi-Wan asked, his gaze roving over Anakin appreciably, possessively.

How did Obi-Wan know? Had Anakin forgotten to stop talking?

"No," he confessed. "I'm broken. You broke me, Master. You have to help me."

"You aren't broken," Obi-Wan denied, his voice so hoarse the alpha pitch rumbled in a strange harmonic, dipping into an alpha purr. "You are perfect, Anakin."

Then, Obi-Wan shook his head. "We shouldn't," he said, sounding like he despaired, and Anakin whined and whimpered to change Obi-Wan's mind. Nothing helped, though. Obi-Wan shook his head. "These calls are monitored, dear," he reminded Anakin. "We can't."

"But I need," Anakin lamented. "I need you."

"I will... this mission is almost over, Anakin. Almost." Obi-Wan sounded like he bargained with deities, willing to sacrifice anything. "It won't be much longer."

"But it has been three weeks," Anakin complained loudly, losing his patience. Part of him was tempted to stuff his hand down his pants anyway.

Sensing what Anakin seriously contemplated, Obi-Wan exhaled forcefully.

"No," he ordered, his alpha voice akin to a hand around Anakin's neck, forcing compliance. "Behave yourself, Anakin."

Anakin complied without a fight, going lax and collapsing on his bed in a puddle of limbs and content dissatisfaction.

"I will later," he reminded Obi-Wan.

"I know, dearest," Obi-Wan sighed. "Believe me, I know. I wish I was with you."

"Me too."

Silence reigned, replacing the building tension with comfort.

When the call ended, Anakin's erection had flagged. Yet, arousal still coiled in his guts, the promise of sweet release alluring despite the knowledge his knot wouldn't pop. He wished he had Obi-Wan's knot instead.

Inspiration struck.

Hesitantly, he let his hand wander lower until fingertips pressed against the crack of his ass through his pants, wondering whether he could. Whether he wanted to.

Did he like the concept of taking Obi-Wan's knot? Did he only enjoy imagining himself bouncing on Obi-Wan's cock, his waist held in Obi-Wan's hands, who would set a slow pace because Obi-Wan never rushed?

Or did he want this, too?

Anakin didn't know. He was an alpha. The notion another alpha could knot him had never occurred until he wondered whether waiting for Obi-Wan's knot in his ass to go down would be awkward.

It would be heavenly, he hoped.

Tension and anticipation sat heavily in his stomach as he unfastened his pants. He was anxious that reality wouldn't live up to his imagination. Foolishly, he wished Obi-Wan was here to guide him.

Then, he wouldn't be so nervous and unsure of himself. Even imagining Obi-Wan was in his bunk with him helped marginally. Since Obi-Wan wasn't here, though, he levitated the medical kit from a corner of the room to the bed. Unlike an omega, he wouldn't produce slick, and he would need something to smooth the way.

Anakin couldn't believe he was committing to this foolishness. He coated his fingers in icy and prickling bacta gel. Maybe he should have used his right hand.

Too late now, he judged. He settled on his bed in what was undoubtedly a poor imitation of a presenting omega, his back curving awkwardly. 

He reached behind him, searching for the furl of muscle, his fingers prodding until he dug against his entrance. Startled, he gasped, his shoulders jolting forward as his hips jerked away from the touch instinctively. Obi-Wan wouldn't have let him escape. Obi-Wan would pin him in place. Anakin's thighs gave out, and he crashed on his bed, his body lax as he imagined Obi-Wan's weight covering him, a hand curled around his neck. His fingers were cold and wet against his entrance, and Anakin didn't know what to feel.

So, he pressed a finger past his entrance, sinking it deep inside him, feeling terribly self-conscious and wondering whether this had all been a mistake. Yet, imagining it was Obi-Wan, testing how deep his finger could slide inside him, made him quiver. No one witnessed the high-pitched noises he produced, muffled by his blankets, already humid from Anakin's heavy breathing. It still didn't feel galaxy-shattering, but Anakin was convinced it could be. He just needed another finger. Impatiently, he wiggled a second finger against his rim, but there wasn't enough give, the stretch bordering on painful. With a frustrated grunt, he tried to wiggle his pinky next to his index finger instead.

It had to work.

And it did work. Ignoring the faint pain, he pushed his pinky past the ring of muscles, joining his index finger. Thickly, he swallowed, accommodating to the stretch and wondering how he had contorted himself into such an uncomfortable position.

But as he moved his fingers in a slow rhythm, his pinky threatening to slip free with each slide back, he imagined Obi-Wan fingered him open instead. He gasped and panted against the sheets, his eyes wide as he imagined Obi-Wan teasing him open, taking his time.

They would hear each other's thoughts, too. The bond... would Obi-Wan scruff him? But his other hand would be on Anakin's hip, so he would have to use his teeth. Anakin could neither stop the odd noises escaping him nor halt his hips. His hips moved back on his fingers as he wiggled on the blankets, too incoherent to try to get back in the presenting position omegas favored. He couldn't get a good angle, his fingers dipping too shallowly, and the only simulation on his cock was the friction against the blankets.

He wouldn't come from the fingers in his ass alone, fingers he enjoyed because he imagined it was Obi-Wan preparing him for his cock and knot. They were an odd and not entirely unpleasant sensation -- in fact, Anakin did derive pleasure from these fingers. Yet, the act itself was devoid of anything. So, he longed for Obi-Wan, for his fingers to reach deeper or fill him better, and a hand around his cock -- and only one of these he had access to in his bunk.

Wrapping his metal hand around his erection was dangerous. The gaps between the plating could easily catch on his skin. However, Anakin was too far gone, his need for release building. His unresponsive knot seemed irrelevant when he imagined Obi-Wan taking him like this, silly daydreams and fantasies making him try to pitch the sounds high and roll his hips. He knew Obi-Wan wasn't here to see, but he wanted to do well -- and the lines between his imagination and reality blurred when he could only think of Obi-Wan's fingers in his ass.

The metal was smooth against his erection, only cold because his cock was hot. Smooth metal didn't smear the precome as well as his organic hand would. Adding insult to injury, he discovered he couldn't get his durasteel hand to grip just right. Still, he came, whining Obi-Wan's name, pitifully calling for his Master as his poor excuse for semen dripped over his durasteel hand, thighs, and blanket.

Relaxed but listlessly, he let his hands slip free. It wasn't a ruined orgasm, but the knowledge Obi-Wan wasn't here with him was so much harder to swallow when the sweat cooled on his skin, leaving him chilled and alone.

Also, he had to change the sheets.

Defeated, he closed his eyes.

He just wanted a good orgasm. Was that too much to ask? Was it? If only Obi-Wan were here.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

The Resolute's mess hall was busy any time of the day. Yet, the Clones wouldn't sit too close to him, following protocol to the letter. Anakin didn't mind eating in peace. After rooting through the box with ration bars he had picked up, he picked another ration bar and tore the wrapper.

As he munched on the bar, Ahsoka entered the mess hall, her head swiveling around as she looked for him. Almost instantly, she spotted him and grinned before heading over.

"You eat like an omega preparing for their heat, Master," Ahsoka teased, laughing as she plopped down on the chair next to his, sliding the mess of ration bar wrappers aside. She only joked about this because the very concept was outlandishly ridiculous.

However, the meiloorun flavored ration bar slipped from Anakin's lax fingers, flopping on the table. He looked at her with his jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Ahsoka's expression shifted to mirror his, looking equally horrified.

"Are you?" she asked.

"No! Don't be silly, Snips," he defended himself. "I'm an alpha."

Ahsoka squinted at him but dropped the issue when Anakin nodded. With a halfhearted shrug, she turned to the table. Her loud gasp startled him, and he jerked in her direction. His Padawan was liable to give him a heart attack one of these days.

"You ate all the meiloorun flavored ones," she accused. "You are heat-prepping."

"I am not," Anakin argued indignantly.

Huffing and muttering unintelligibly, Ahsoka went through the box of ration bars Anakin had commandeered until she found another flavor that suited her tastes.

"Sure you are," she spoke around a mouth of ration bar.

"No talking with your mouth stuffed," Anakin lectured her.

Ahsoka snorted and immediately choked on her ration bar.

"See," Anakin gloated. "I am only concerned for your well-being, Snips."

Ahsoka guffawed by his side, and Anakin relaxed as he watched his Padawan's joy. Although Ahsoka didn't circle back to her careless comment, Anakin's mind did. Disconcerted, he looked at the empty wrappers littering the table.

It did look like he was an omega preparing for his heat from an outside perspective. However, Anakin couldn't go in heat; it was physically impossible. Even so, his mind seemed convinced he could.

And his mind had begun to rule his body, first making it impossible to pop a knot, then refusing to elongate his fangs, and submitting willingly to Obi-Wan next. So, for all he knew, his mind was preparing to send him through a fake heat.

It wasn't unheard of for people of any designation to suffer phantom heats.

Anakin wished he could pretend Obi-Wan's continued absence wasn't a stressor that could trigger a phantom heat. Mostly because he would never survive the humiliation.

It had better be bondsickness. Unfortunately, Anakin was also realistic.

Either way, Anakin was screwed, and Obi-Wan was on the other side of the galaxy. The sense of longing, that deep anguish of missing Obi-Wan so badly, crashed into him. He lowered his ration bar, his appetite gone.

"I'm going for a walk," he announced.

"Can I have that?" Ahsoka asked around another mouthful of food, pointing at the half-eaten ration bar -- the last meiloorun-flavored one.

"Sure," Anakin said. "But I don't want to hear any more libel."

"So, slander is fine?" Ahsoka asked shrewdly.

"No," Anakin said, pointing a threatening finger at her. "And I do keep an eye on you -- all for your education, of course."

Ahsoka laughed carelessly. Relief left Anakin lightheaded. He was so proud of Ahsoka; his Padawan had recovered so well from her feral state. He turned away from the table, overbalancing when the spaceship swayed around him. His palm landed on the table with a smack, sharp pain lancing through his wrist as he leaned heavily on the table, blinking through a dizzy spell.

"Master?" Ahsoka asked, dropping the Meilloorun ration bar to the floor as she kicked her seat back.

"It's nothing," Anakin said through gritted teeth, closing his eyes briefly. The bondsickness was getting worse, he knew. Although Anakin no longer missed Obi-Wan like a phantom limb due to their daily calls, the lack of skin contact was doing him in. It poisoned him, admittedly at a slower rate than no contact would have, but it trickled in his veins nonetheless. Eventually, he would succumb to the bondsickness, but Anakin had assumed he had longer.

As the dizzy spell waned, lethargy settled in his bones.

"I'll sleep it off," he promised Ahsoka, who hovered worriedly. Apparently, his answer wasn't satisfying. Her unconscious alpha posturing was endearing but entirely unnecessary. "Come on, Snips. It's just a cold."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes,  but she dropped the issue. Her eyes burnt holes in his back as he shuffled to the exit slowly, heading to his room to sleep. Dully, he settled under the blankets, remembering how he had imagined Obi-Wan knotting him with his own fingers deep in his ass -- or as deep as they could go, wondering how much better it would feel if he could reach further.

He could only acknowledge the thought, too drained to do more than replay the memory distractedly, his fingers curling into his blanket, which he pulled up to his chin. It was almost a shelter, but he wasn't anxious.

Every emotion slid from him like water off a porg's back, unable to cling longer than a second. Even his yearning for Obi-Wan was muted by silence. Although Anakin was tired, he couldn't fall asleep or risk missing Obi-Wan's call.

So, he waited for hours.

The bondsickness progressed faster, which should concern Anakin. Instead, he blinked at his commlink, which rested on his pillow by his face.

He knew he should be on the bridge, coordinating their next moves. The Separatists had retreated to lick their wounds. Whether they pushed or allowed the remaining forces to leave could impact future battles.

Anakin hoped Ahsoka would consult the Council. He was almost sure she would. Exhausted, he closed his eyes, drifting off. His chirping commlink startled him awake an indefinable period later.

His head ached dully, like a sleep-deprivation-induced hangover.

Disoriented, he patted his pillow until his fingers knocked into the commlink, accepting the call without checking because he knew it was Obi-Wan. He always knew these days. Although the bond was pulled taut and thin to the point of fraying, they were still mates, so there were things Anakin knew instinctively. Yet, digging made this evanescent intuition disappear.

"Master," he mumbled, the word distorted by his cheek pressed against a pillow.

"Hello, Anakin," Obi-Wan greeted him warmly, then his voice dropped. "You don't look well, dear."

"Hrmph," Anakin managed, a sentence condensed into one unhappy sound. "Miss you."

"I miss you too, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, sounding strangled. The admission cost Obi-Wan everything, and Anakin was too tired to gloat and preen. So, he blinked, forcing one corner of his mouth to twist.

"Do you think we'll be fine?" Anakin slurred.

"We will, dear. It will not be much longer... Perhaps I can-- No, I shouldn't."

Anakin listened to Obi-Wan's voice, wishing Obi-Wan was closer. Close enough so he could hear Obi-Wan's internal debate. He was sure he would misunderstand what he heard, for they had already proven that eavesdropping on the other's thoughts wasn't a surefire way to understand. But listening to Obi-Wan's thoughts would be soothing.

Neither talked, but Obi-Wan didn't suggest ending the call. Obi-Wan had turned his attention to his desk, working silently, and Anakin watched the Holo projection. Each quiet breath relaxed him further, and Anakin melted under his blanket, warm, cozy, and at peace. As he closed his eyes, he drifted, dozing briefly before blinking awake to confirm Obi-Wan hadn't hung up on him.

Obi-Wan still worked. Reassured, Anakin blinked slowly at the Holo projection.

"Sleep, dearest," Obi-Wan told him. It wasn't an alpha command or an order. It was a suggestion, and Anakin was powerless against Obi-Wan's soothing voice. 

When he woke again, Obi-Wan was slumped over his desk, asleep on the datapads. Although Anakin couldn't move, he wasn't worried, warm and content.

This was bondsickness, and Anakin suffered it because he loved Obi-Wan. And maybe Obi-Wan couldn't admit it to Anakin's face, but Obi-Wan loved him too.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

Confused, he blinked at the ceiling of the Resolute's medbay, wondering what he had missed. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his bunk. Now, Ahsoka paced through the examination room frantically, signaling distressed alpha.

"Are you going feral?" he asked listlessly. He didn't want Ahsoka to go feral again.

"Master!" Ahsoka's voice was overly loud as she strode to his bed. "You were unconscious."

"Asleep," Anakin corrected.

"Unconscious."

"Snips, I was in my bed."

"Unconscious!"

Anakin planned to rub his forehead but couldn't move his arm. Disgruntled, he tried to lift his head, thus discovering he couldn't move at all. Perhaps he had been unconscious. Ahsoka didn't gloat over her victory.

"I called everyone," she said.

Oh no.

"Everyone?" he echoed.

"Master Obi-Wan and Master Plo Koon, and he told me to tell Master Windu, too." As Ahsoka listed Council members, Anakin closed his eyes.

"What did you tell them?" he asked.

Ahsoka froze, caught like an eopie in the headlights of a speeder, and Anakin bemoaned his fate.

"You're bonded, Master," she pointed out carefully like Anakin might have missed it.

"I am," he responded. "To Obi-Wan."

Ahsoka's expression twisted too fast for Anakin to read.

"Master Obi-Wan said he'll be here soon."

"Good."

Because Anakin was starting to get worried about his inability to move.

"Master," Ahsoka said. "Kix said..."

She paused, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Kix said you seemed to be going through a phantom heat and bondsickness. But mostly a phantom heat. So, I was right."

"Is that why I can't move? Because I--" Anakin stopped talking abruptly when a part of his mind suffused with golden light and a presence he had missed. His galaxy went quiet, reduced to the bond.

"Because I'm worried?" he guessed. "No. No, I'm not worried. Obi-Wan's worried. He just arrived."

Ahsoka gave him a dubious glance. "You should be worried," she told him. Anakin would have shrugged. Alas, his shoulders didn't obey.

What if I'm too late? I shouldn't have left. Shouldn't have listened. Infuriating boy. Never takes care of himself. What if I'm too late? Another call. Ignore it. Never mind. Doesn't matter.

Anakin blinked against the onslaught, frowning when he realized Obi-Wan had called him infuriating.

Of course, he never said anything until he collapsed. Does he want me to go feral? Irresponsible.

"He called me irresponsible," Anakin told Ahsoka, his affront audible. Ahsoka looked torn between crying and laughing.

"Whatever, Master," she said before ducking out of the room.

Anakin.

Master. I missed you.

Anakin.

Obi-Wan's thoughts were disjointed, and Anakin frowned, tugging insistently on the bond. Obi-Wan sounded distracted and frantic, his thoughts short and urgent.

Of course, I am not fine, Anakin. How would you feel if you were contacted about your mate passing out?

People passed out all the time, though. Anakin had suffered several blows to his head that had rendered him unconscious and concussed.

You didn't wake up, Anakin. Don't you dare downplay the severity of the situation.

Anakin loved the bond. However, he hadn't counted on receiving lectures directly in his mind. He couldn't tune Obi-Wan out anymore -- and Obi-Wan's spike of amusement told Anakin his Master had overheard that thought.

Their minds were too tightly entangled, hopelessly so. Anakin could follow along as Obi-Wan gauged the Force to find him, puzzled by how differently Obi-Wan connected to the Force.

His interest was returned, Obi-Wan's fascination familiar and reassuring. The bond didn't grow louder as Obi-Wan approached. Instead, a fog lifted. 

Their connection was a radio signal that had bounced back on those thick clouds. Now -- finally -- contact was established. Anakin would have slumped in relief if his body listened to him. He also would have tensed up because he could feel Obi-Wan's mind roil with near incoherent thoughts -- a hurricane, an untamable storm over a dark sea. He would drown in Obi-Wan's scattered focus if he didn't choke on the knowledge Obi-Wan wasn't pleased with him first.

Anakin Skywalker was an alpha. Hence, he wasn't wired to please other alphas. However, he had been eager to please Obi-Wan, his Master, from the start. When Obi-Wan stormed into the room, stumbling over the threshold, Anakin whined pitifully. It was a pathetic noise but froze Obi-Wan in his steps nonetheless. His chest heaved as if he had run, and his cheeks were red.

The redness was partly hidden by Obi-Wan's beard, drawing attention to the fever in Obi-Wan's eyes. Anakin had never seen Obi-Wan so close to losing control, balancing on the precipice of feral but different. The red on Obi-Wan's face was intoxicating.

Your cheeks are ruddy, too, dearest. So pretty and sweet.

Obi-Wan's appreciation swept through the bond, sharp with something Anakin recognized. He was an alpha, after all. So, he wasn't unfamiliar with ruts, and their bonding should have prompted one. Obi-Wan was on the verge of losing a fight against his biology -- against his instincts, and Anakin was arrested by it.

"I received the call. Something was wrong," Obi-Wan rasped. "Ahsoka told me."

The bond helped Anakin understand what Obi-Wan's words failed to communicate. Obi-Wan's usual eloquence had left him, his thoughts equally sluggish as he strode to Anakin's side, his gait too graceful and predatory. There was an intimidating and thrilling dominance in Obi-Wan's gait that Obi-Wan seemed blind to.

"Phantom heat," he told Obi-Wan before he could forget they were talking.

Obi-Wan blinked as if Anakin had hit him over the head with a blaster. Phantom heats, while uncommon, weren't that outlandish. Even alphas suffered them, as Anakin demonstrated so well. It explained his fever and listlessness.

"How do we fix it?" Obi-Wan asked. His hoarse voice sent shivers down Anakin's spine. Then, Obi-Wan leaned closer to place his hand over Anakin's forehead to check for the telltale fever. Obi-Wan's pheromones flooded his nose, sharp and warning of pre-rut. Helplessly, Anakin blinked, haziness turning his mind into mush.

"A knot."

Devastatingly pretty. Such blue eyes. Long eyelashes, they close so slowly... A knot?

"A knot?" Obi-Wan voiced the thought hoarsely, and Anakin nodded. It wouldn't help with the bondsickness, but what Obi-Wan didn't know couldn't harm him, right?

"You're aware I can read your thoughts?" Obi-Wan asked sardonically. "In case you had forgotten, Anakin. I can."

Anakin had tried.

"We'll deal with your bondsickness first and the phantom heat second. The former may kill you; the latter is merely an inconvenience."

So, Obi-Wan would torture him. Anakin couldn't claim to be surprised that Obi-Wan would be so cruel as to withhold what Anakin wanted most.

"Don't be so dramatic," Obi-Wan chided as he settled on the mattress by Anakin's head, which dipped under his weight. Anakin pouted, which took all his strength, and was only rewarded with a wry chuckle.

Then, Obi-Wan's hand carded through Anakin's hair, the scent of Obi-Wan's alpha pheromones so intense that he almost choked on it. The familiar smell soothed and comforted while adding fuel to the low-burning fire of arousal that refused to extinguish inside Anakin. A sign of his phantom heat, which Obi-Wan refused to alleviate.

But the head scratches and gentle petting soothed the urgency. Obi-Wan's attention, in general, was both rare and very welcome. So, Anakin closed his eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Hopefully, no one would claim any more health emergencies while he slept.

He looks so pale, so fragile. I never should have left mine. No. Anakin is not mine. Stars.

He was, though. Anakin was irrevocably and unconditionally Obi-Wan's.

Would you please not encourage this madness, Anakin? I can't even find peace in my own head these days.

Anakin tried to snort. Obi-Wan's thoughts were white noise, helping Anakin rest.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

Anakin was a mess. Although he had reclaimed control over his body, he rapidly lost control differently. His mind melted, and his clothes were damp with sweat. Each inhale annoyed him; the calm made him want to pop the vertebrae in his neck. He felt oddly unsatisfied and generally disgruntled.

He opened his eyes, ready to snarl or growl. Obi-Wan's back greeted him. Dumbly, he blinked, the impulse to lash out in anger gone. The examination room, which had inexplicably turned into Anakin's private room, smelt strongly of pre-rut and Obi-Wan.

Anakin inhaled deeply, drinking in Obi-Wan's pheromones. The scent was intoxicating, accelerating this phantom heat that only affected Anakin's mind.

He wouldn't produce slick or the correct hormones or pheromones, his body an alpha in its prime. His annoyance faded as his breathing evened so he could taste Obi-Wan on each breath.

"You're awake," Obi-Wan said, his back still turned to Anakin. While Anakin lay sprawled on the cot, Obi-Wan balanced on the edge. One wrong move would send him to the floor.

Studying the tense line of Obi-Wan's back and the tenser line of his shoulders, Anakin knew.

This smell. It wasn't pre-rut. This potent mix of pheromones was Obi-Wan's rut and triggered Anakin's phantom heat. A soft sound slipped past Anakin's lips.

"I didn't want to leave while you were asleep," Obi-Wan said stiffly. Although his elongated alpha fangs slurred the words, Anakin could hear a cutting edge. "Since our bond is so new, I didn't want to show any behavior that could be interpreted as a rejection. But I have to leave, Anakin."

Leave? Why?

Anakin could hear Obi-Wan's swallow thickly. Heat gathered low in Anakin's stomach, and he sucked in an echoing breath, a wet, surprised gasp.

Bite. Mate. Bite. Claim. Yours. Yours. Mine.

Anakin blinked dazedly, the onslaught of thoughts consuming him. Obi-Wan's urgent thoughts pushed Anakin's aside like they were weightless.

"My rut has started," Obi-Wan explained superfluously. "I know I forced a mating bond on you, Anakin. Please believe me when I promise I will do better. I won't force anything else on you ever."

See, the problem was that Anakin believed Obi-Wan. Oh, he believed Obi-Wan all right.

"You didn't force me," he said, but Obi-Wan would refuse to listen to the correction. They were Master and Padawan, different and alike in a strange pattern that suggested a decade of companionship. Anakin needed a different strategy.

"I don't feel well," he whined. Maybe he didn't act like one, but Anakin was an alpha. So, he knew what would work. Suddenly, he had Obi-Wan's undivided attention. Obi-Wan turned on the bed, his face creased in concern and consternation as he propped on an elbow to glance down at Anakin. Close but keeping a respectable distance. However, the mere fact he leaned over Anakin, virtually boxing him in, told Anakin that Obi-Wan believed Anakin wouldn't go for his jugular like a cornered alpha would.

Obi-Wan eyes were dark pools, fathomless oceans that reflected night skies. Anakin stared dumbly, the dilated pupils a sight he would never forget. The muscles in his stomach jumped and quivered, the heat coiling low in his belly consolidating into arousal. Then, Obi-Wan reared back, shaking his head minutely.

"I can call--"

Anakin scowled, reaching out with a hand to grab Obi-Wan's arm hard.

"Don't," he warned. A low alpha growl started in his throat. Of course, Obi-Wan wasn't intimidated by the threat, quirking an eyebrow.

He just wished Obi-Wan would fuck him silly and knot him. If Obi-Wan pumped him full with his seed, Anakin wouldn't be alone with his phantom heat. Obi-Wan wouldn't be alone, either. They were mates. Mates fucked.

Obi-Wan groaned. "I don't even know how to correct so many misconceptions in one sentence," he said. His voice was rough, dragging over each syllable, the posh Coruscanti accent lilting the consonants and catching on the vowels.

Anakin sobbed, his head falling back automatically. His thighs were already splayed, but he nudged them further apart in an invitation Obi-Wan couldn't pretend he didn't see.

"Let me take advantage of you," Anakin suggested in a stroke of genius. "Then, we're even."

Infuriating boy. How does he even come up with this nonsense? Want. Mate. Claim what is mine. He plays with fire. I do, too. Should have left already. We'll both burn.

"It's not nonsense," Anakin argued. "You're in your rut. I'm in... this embarrassing state. I love you, Obi-Wan."

It was his trump card. Besides, Obi-Wan loved him, too.

He focused on this thought. Obi-Wan loved him, too. Since Obi-Wan was privy to his thoughts and fantasies, Anakin knew Obi-Wan heard him loud and clear. Too clear if Obi-Wan's pained expression was any indication.

"Anakin, you deserve better." Obi-Wan's ragged voice could no longer pitch fond or kind, but Anakin knew he tried. "An alpha in his rut is a poor match for your... inexperience."

Stars. Why did I say that? Why didn't I refuse outright? Now, he will never stop. Stars. I want him. Want him so bad. He'll wiggle -- oh, I need him to squirm under my weight. Focus.

"I'm not inexperienced," Anakin bit.

"I never implied so, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, so infuriatingly calm and collected. One single thought. One 'focus' and Obi-Wan's world had returned to an almost painful clarity. The avalanche of thoughts and impulses had come to a rumbling stop. Anakin yearned, itched, raged, to shake that calm, to tear through Obi-Wan's self-control until ribbons remained.

And he knew what buttons to push to get a reaction, but it was never enough. Never shook Obi-Wan to his core.

"However, since you are an alpha, I doubt you're ready to take a knot."

Did Obi-Wan believe he could meditate out of a rut... perhaps he could. A frightening thought.

"Truly, Anakin, you have some odd ideas about me," Obi-Wan complained lightly.

"Well, you are wrong," Anakin argued. "I know you are wrong."

"Don't lie, Anakin."

Incensed, Anakin glowered at Obi-Wan. "I'm not lying," he protested hotly. "I've had my fingers in my ass."

The bond crackled with static before going still. Obi-Wan looked at him intensely. "How many?" he asked.

Anakin would never confess he had struggled to pop his pinky past his rim before bullying his middle finger past the tight entrance. He would never admit it had hurt. Would never spill that he had sensed it could be pleasurable without finding that bliss he had hoped for.

Anakin hadn't been disappointed, but he had wondered and wanted. He knew Obi-Wan could -- would -- reach deeper. Yet, neither of those musings were thoughts to share with Obi-Wan.

Of course, he did so inadvertently anyway.

"Oh, dearest," Obi-Wan sighed in sympathy, which was another blow to Anakin's pride. He should lash out angrily to salvage his dignity but mewled pitifully instead.

"Two fingers," Anakin responded, and Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. Part of Anakin had expected a taunt. Awed, he realized Obi-Wan wouldn't poke fun at him or risk letting banter hurt Anakin. 

"I shouldn't," Obi-Wan argued weakly, and his mind repeated that thought on a loop.

Both knew Obi-Wan had lost this fight. Now, Anakin wanted Obi-Wan to lose his mind and impeccable control.

So, he surged upwards, crossing the distance between them. Not to lunge at Obi-Wan's jugular but to kiss him instead. Obi-Wan welcomed him, offering no resistance. Obi-Wan guided his head back to the pillow, their lips never separating. Anakin knew he was mouthing at Obi-Wan more than anything, but he couldn't stop squirming, their lips brushing. The bristles of Obi-Wan's beard rubbed the surrounding skin raw.

Oh, he knew he would have beard burn, and these visible signs of the pleasure they shared made Anakin rub against Obi-Wan's beard, which was soft but scraped anyway.

When Obi-Wan pulled back, it was only to focus on Anakin's mating gland, which bore Obi-Wan's mark. As Obi-Wan sucked on the mark, turning Anakin into a mewling mess, Obi-Wan's hand swept over Anakin's body.

Obi-Wan undressed him gently, layers of cloth falling away. The cold air hitting Anakin's overheated skin was a relief. Sighing, he tipped his head back further, stretching his throat. His skin was clammy with sweat, his clothes sticking to his skin as Obi-Wan set them aside.

Obi-Wan's fingers running over his skin, tracing aimless patterns, were hot. Anakin had needed so fiercely, and he still did, for his cock was hard and leaked on his stomach, but Obi-Wan took his sweet time. In fact, he ignored any erogenous zones to focus on Anakin's abdomen, the planes of his chest, and his cheeks instead, brushing gently.

Through their bond, Obi-Wan's admiration was palpable, rendering Anakin speechless. He couldn't help splaying his thighs wider or arching his back to present his body better. Undeniably, Obi-Wan knew what Anakin was doing, but he didn't say anything. Instead, his hand cupped Anakin's jaw before running over his throat. Anakin's Adam's apple bobbed under Obi-Wan's touch, his fingers tangling in the blankets as his hands balled into fists reflexively.

"Ah," he gasped, and Obi-Wan's gaze snapped from Anakin's throat to his eyes. Finally, Obi-Wan's hand dipped lower, a pressure against his sternum first, his abdomen second, and his pelvis next. An exploratory touch turned focused, and Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan's wrist brushed past his erect cock while his fingers massaged his perineum lightly. His hips bucked, and Obi-Wan's fingers slipped. They returned to his entrance, tapping before retreating.

Although Anakin was incoherent with his phantom heat and unable to coordinate his movements, he wouldn't produce slick. The sharp scent of bacta in the air was a reminder, a promise of what was to come.

When Obi-Wan's fingers returned to his rim, coated in bacta that smeared against Anakin's thighs and ran down the crack of his ass, Obi-Wan paused. Their gaze met and locked, a silent question posed.

Obi-Wan's fingers against his entrance should have him snarl, but Anakin only felt anticipation. He had dreamed about this, and each brush of Obi-Wan's hands over his body had stoked those fires. Obi-Wan was in his rut; he should be well beyond asking, but the fever turning his eyes glossy failed to erase the vestiges of Jedi restraint.

"Please," Anakin sighed. "I'm ready."

Obi-Wan's finger was broader than Anakin's. Furthermore, the angle was better, so Obi-Wan's finger reached deeper while stretching him wider. Gasping and spluttering, Anakin couldn't help arching from the bed, alpha instincts warring with pleasure. He didn't know what to do or how to feel, and he panted as Obi-Wan's free hand landed on his sternum to push him against the mattress.

One touch and Anakin's collapsed faster than Obi-Wan's hand could follow.

"Master," he said. His voice was a plea, and Obi-Wan groaned lowly.

"Yes, dear?"

Anakin blinked dumbly, shaking his head in confusion. Obi-Wan took mercy on him, moving his finger in a slow rhythm, mimicking how he would take Anakin. Limply, Anakin surrendered to the touch, hiccupping when a second finger joined the first one.

Obi-Wan took his time. He always did. Bacta squelched, and Anakin could lean into the illusion he had produced slick like an omega would. His mind quieted, his body relaxing further, the mindset that he was an omega ready to be mounted by his alpha mate a dirty fantasy.

A fantasy he may as well have screamed into the void.

"If you like that, dear," Obi-Wan said roughly.

"I do," Anakin responded, the admission a jumbled mess punctuated by a wet gasp as Obi-Wan's fingers drove deeper than before, searching. Obi-Wan's fingertips curled in a come hither motion inside him, pressing against spongy inner walls and brushing past his prostate. No one had ever touched his prostate before, and Anakin had never been interested...

One brush and his prostate throbbed in tune with his heartbeat. He had never been so aware of his body, of the bundle of nerves that almost seemed to pulse under Obi-Wan's insistent touch.

He couldn't stop keening and gasping, almost choking on the drool slipping past his lips.

"Obi-Wan," he wheedled. "Come on."

When Obi-Wan didn't react fast enough, his fingers retreating from Anakin's ass before plunging in again, he whimpered pitifully. "Alpha."

Obi-Wan stilled, so close to his prostate but not there yet. So, Anakin tried to push back on Obi-Wan's fingers.

"Yes, my dear alpha? My mate. You seem unhappy. Am I not giving you enough? Does my mate, my alpha, need more?"

Obi-Wan's voice was rough while the words dripped with casual Code-defying possessiveness. Anakin had never heard Obi-Wan's voice in such a deep alpha register. Shivers chased down his spine, and he paused his wiggling, staring at Obi-Wan.

"Yes," he sighed.

Whatever tenuous control Obi-Wan had refused to lose finally snapped. Anakin could see it happen. The loss of control resonated in the bond. A thick haze descended on the bond, which Anakin recognized as rut-induced. Anakin had experienced ruts often, after all. But he had never been on the receiving end of an alpha in rut. Hungrily, he licked his lips, his teeth running over his teeth. His alpha fangs hadn't dropped, but Anakin couldn't care.

Obi-Wan's fingers slipped out of him. Anakin was privy to Obi-Wan's thought process as his alpha considered turning him around and folding Anakin's limbs into a presenting position.

Not an omega, Obi-Wan's mind whispered. But Anakin wanted to be. Phantom heat had already stolen his vocabulary, though, so he could only keen. Obi-Wan no longer listened, hearing Anakin's pleading in his mind and ignoring it to solve this logical puzzle instead. Not an omega. Mate. Alpha. Blue eyes. So pretty. Want to see him. Red. Incoherent. On my knot. Want to see his knot.

"I-- I-- Obi-Wan," Anakin moaned. He didn't have a knot anymore. Or rather, his knot wouldn't inflate upon coming, but he couldn't find the words. "I can't. There's no knot," he managed, his explanation interspersed with gaps.

"You can," Obi-Wan decided resolutely, and Anakin didn't know how he was supposed to argue with Obi-Wan in such an obstinate state. So, he surrendered the point. Anything to get Obi-Wan's knot.

Finally, Obi-Wan's cock nudged his entrance, catching on the rim before the head popped past the ring of muscles, sinking deeper slowly. Anakin had expected Obi-Wan to stop, to prolong this initial slide, but Obi-Wan didn't pause. He only stilled when he was buried inside Anakin to the hilt, his hips pressed against Anakin's ass.

Anakin couldn't focus on anything but the stretch. He was stuffed fuller than he had believed possible, but he had taken his alpha's cock. Cross-eyed, he panted, trying to buck his hips in an encouragement to make Obi-Wan move.

Part of him had counted on cajoling, arguments, and more bickering, but the rut had set in completely, and Obi-Wan only snarled. Rather than rising to the challenge, Anakin relaxed, his lips shaping around a surprised sound. Submission came easier each time Obi-Wan wrangled it from him. Soon, it would be a reflex, and Anakin didn't have the mental capacity to determine...

Obi-Wan withdrew and snapped his hips, rolling them and grazing Anakin's prostate. Anakin could only hold on as Obi-Wan rutted into him in long strokes -- unerringly precise and thorough. With Obi-Wan's hands clasped around his hips, Anakin's squirming had little effect, but he couldn't stop moving.

An actual omega would have gone lax, pliant to let their alpha fuck into them, but Anakin couldn't stop writhing, his hips bucking in Obi-Wan's durasteel grip and his shoulders lifting from the bed to curl in on himself. And Obi-Wan didn't tire, keeping up the rhythm longer than Anakin had deemed possible. Pleasure built inside Anakin, but he couldn't come without a touch on his cock. He was content to let the pleasure rise, though, reveling in the sensation of Obi-Wan's cock grinding against his prostate.

Initially, he didn't notice the pull on his rim, but as Obi-Wan's knot swelled further, the additional pressure became impossible to ignore. Yet, Anakin still took Obi-Wan so well. Triumphantly, Anakin relaxed.

He took his mate's knot like he was built for it.

Anakin's triumph didn't last long, though. As Obi-Wan's knot continued to grow, he could only gasp wetly. The knot caught on his rim, and as Obi-Wan pushed it past the ring of muscles with brute force, Anakin's breath would be expelled from his lungs in a high-pitched "Ah."

When Obi-Wan's knot popped past his stretched rim for the last time, Anakin sobbed with desperation and relief. However, Obi-Wan's grinding inside him, aborted rolls of his hips stuffing him so full, Anakin couldn't think beyond Obi-Wan's knot. As Obi-Wan's rhythm grew frantic, his grip on Anakin's hips changed, and Anakin had only one moment of apprehension before Obi-Wan used Anakin's hips to help him maintain a rhythm as Obi-Wan's snapping hips lost it.

One stroke over his cock and Anakin would come. The head of his erection was almost purple with neglect and need. However, Obi-Wan still wasn't finished rutting into him, and Anakin rocked back, assisting Obi-Wan as they chased release. His prostate throbbed, the bundle of nerves on the edge of oversensitivity despite the building pleasure.

Obi-Wan came first, filling Anakin with come, but his hips didn't stop. However, one hand lifted from Anakin's hip to stroke his stomach reverently. Wires crossed in Anakin's mind, his brain short-circuiting as his hindbrain wondered how deep Obi-Wan's come had invaded him. Anakin moaned weakly, his head lolling on the pillows. He didn't think he had ever been this desperate.

"Obi-Wan," he mewled, and Obi-Wan's hand retreated from his stomach, wrapping around the base of his cock instead. Briefly, the galaxy went silent, Anakin's ears ringing with the quiet. Then, Obi-Wan massaged the base of his cock while his knot still stretched Anakin delightfully. Anakin let go, ropes of come spurting over his stomach, reaching his sternum as his cock pulsed in Obi-Wan's grip.

Slowly, Anakin's breathing grew deeper again. He hadn't realized how shallow and erratic his breathing had turned as his orgasm built. He felt amazing. Relaxed and awake, if a little sluggish.

His best orgasm ever.

Obi-Wan's unimpressed expression told him the thought had slipped. But after a month of ruined orgasms, Anakin believed he was allowed to be slightly biased. Especially when Obi-Wan's knot still locked them together, sealing all Obi-Wan's come inside him.

"Seriously, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked as he maneuvered them on the bed so Anakin could cling to Obi-Wan's front, the knot tugging on his rim with each movement, chasing residual pleasure up his spine in echoes of his orgasm.

"What?" Anakin asked, his voice muffled by Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your knot, dearest," Obi-Wan told him wryly.

Anakin's gaze dropped between them, confirming that his knot had swollen. He had popped a knot while stuffed with Obi-Wan's knot... which was odd.

Obi-Wan's hand tightened around Anakin's bright red knot in sympathy before Anakin could assign blame, making him go boneless. With the additional pressure on his knot, he couldn't help coming again, his cock twitching in Obi-Wan's grip as his eyes rolled back and his vision went hazy. He knew he produced a litany of pitiful, high-pitched sounds. And he tried but couldn't swallow them. Neither could he stop the rhythmic clenching of his rim and inner walls around Obi-Wan's knot, which grew further, pushing insistently against Anakin, creating space that didn't exist.

"If we keep this up, we will be here for a while, Anakin," Obi-Wan rasped.

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Indeed, it doesn't," Obi-Wan admitted, and Anakin grinned triumphantly.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>

Of course, the Council called. Or Windu called on the behest of the Council. Anakin knew the Council would have discussed the bond already. However, Obi-Wan's expression revealed nothing. His thoughts were equally quiet, and Anakin understood that Obi-Wan had already accepted any outcome this call would have.

Anakin didn't think he could conjure the same grace as he watched Windu's Holo projection, the exchanged pleasantries sour on his tongue.

"Knight Skywalker, you are reassigned for the 212th, which will have two generals."

"Two generals?" Anakin asked, wondering what type of convoluted hierarchy that would be. He doubted the Republic officers and admirals would appreciate this. "What about the 501st?"

Windu shot him a dark glance before continuing with the Council's verdict. Apparently, they wouldn't be expelled or face other consequences. "Henceforth, you will be going on missions together. Initially, the Senate pushed to send you on missions together, but when I updated Chancellor Palpatine that you would be paired indefinitely, the Chancellor was oddly resistant. However, we do not allow the Senate to personally command Jedi. So, be warned and report back to us if the Senate pushes for separation."

It seemed the Council tried to accommodate the bond without explicitly naming it. Confused, Anakin wondered whether he had misunderstood.

"What about the 501st? What will happen to them?" Anakin asked.

"Anakin Skywalker," Windu began, and Anakin flinched at his thunderous tone. "You are kriffing bon--"

"Plausible deniability, Master Windu," Master Billaba interjected cheerfully. "Don't forget the plausible deniability."

"Right," Windu said, taking a deep breath. "Plausible deniability is a privilege, Skywalker."

This confirmed Anakin's suspicions. Their bond would be tolerated if they kept it under wraps. Glancing at Obi-Wan, Anakin knew this was a better resolution than he could have hoped for. In fact, if he hadn't mated Obi-Wan, he was convinced he wouldn't be given the same leniency.

However, he had mated Obi-Wan. Moreover, he had always known the Council was unfair.

"Okay. Thanks, I guess. I'm not complaining," Anakin capitulated immediately.

"In answer to your question, your Padawan will resume command over the 501st."

"Snips is getting knighted? She's young, but that's excellent news!"

Windu looked close to tears. "No one is getting knighted, but I now have a whole battalion without a general, and Padawan Tano had proven to be capable. How you managed to raise such a capable Padawan is beyond me, Skywalker."

Anakin recognized this as praise and nodded, knowing he shouldn't be boastful but unable to resist. "I know, right?"

Windu sighed wearily, a tired sound with no trace of anger. "The things we do for this war," he muttered.

"Plausible deniability," Depa chimed in from the background cheerfully.

After the customary greetings, the call cut.

The Council's willingness to ignore what had happened by sending them on joined missions was the best outcome Anakin could have hoped for. Likely, this would only last as long as the war. For now, however, it was good enough. Certainly, their leniency was more than Anakin had hoped for. If Obi-Wan agreed. Worriedly, he turned to Obi-Wan, who looked pensive as he stroked his beard.

"I never told you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said slowly. "But I do love you."

"I know. In case you've forgotten, Master. I can hear your thoughts."

Obi-Wan's sigh told Anakin that Obi-Wan knew Anakin parroted his words back at him.

"I had expected that the Council would make a problem out of this," Anakin mused.

"They will," Obi-Wan promised. "With me. I think everyone is quite aware of what happened and that you are blameless."

"You told them," Anakin accused.

Obi-Wan blinked. "Well not in so many words, but my teeth are on your throat, dear. The Council is not naive. And they are definitely not pleased with my conduct towards a former Padawan."

Anakin brushed over the mark on his throat, proud of its presence.

"I'm happy to be your mate," he promised.

"Oh, trust me, you are the only one," Obi-Wan muttered. "Though I am honored to be yours."

Anakin nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line to hide how pleased he was.

"So, who's going to tell Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan asked, changing the subject. "And we'll have to return to Kuat."

Curiosity piqued, Anakin allowed the topic to be changed.

"What did you tell them?"

"That my mate needed me, which took precedence over their filled pockets. Maybe I was aggravated enough to point out that negotiations could have concluded weeks ago if they had given me a straight answer or stopped this foolish deception."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. I wasn't thinking straight. Let's see if we can salvage the situation."

"Of course, you can," Anakin said, convinced Obi-Wan could butter up anyone in the galaxy.

"Truly, Anakin, you have some very strange ideas about my capabilities."

Anakin shrugged. That was neither his fault nor his problem.