pronker

Part Thirty-Three

Anakin whispered, "You hurt me, Master."

It was a muggy night and the two had stripped to skivvies. They had opened the shutters to let in stray breezes and two or three annoying flitterbugs that butted now and then against the puny glowglobe on the nightstand.

"Only in a dream, my Padawan. You'll never be hurt by me intentionally." Whatever did Anakin think? "I am your teacher. When I cut, not unravel, your braid in real life, I will not be hurting you, I will be fulfilling the Force's will." And Qui-Gon's will, that you become a Jedi Knight, wherever that may lead you as our Chosen One. "When I pushed you down the steps too fast and you fell, that was your resentment talking. And when I threw your Merit Beads into the water, that was your projection of my resentment. We've been together too much at times. It's natural for unexpressed feelings to bubble over into dreams."

Unexpressed. "And your hands that changed from mean and cold to soft and warm on my waist?"

Obi-Wan looked away. "I don't know. Maybe a holdover from our, our, detour to Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy."

"There was a reason I said that I wanted to be closer to you, Master." Anakin placed his hand on Obi-Wan's bare knee. "I think the reason was that my --- our --- intimacy could help this mission."

"This mission will fail or succeed by the will of the Force, Anakin. Of course, we as Jedi and representatives of the Republic want it to succeed."

"I think --- I feel that the Force wants it to succeed, too, Master. What if I'm right and you're wr-wrong?" All the signs pointed to him being right: the recalling of Ry-Gaul to give them privacy, the half-remembered dreams since puberty, the bouquet with their initials, for kriff's sake. He couldn't quite work in Tru's illness as a factor, but he wouldn't be at all surprised if the Force could. Anakin jumped happily ahead to a vision of two lovers entwined face-to-face, seeing their mutual desires in each other's eyes, nothing like that shamed affair on Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's dark commons.

Obi-Wan, caught at a low moment, sighed. "You keep on saying 'closer,' Anakin. There's only one more way for us to be closer, and ... and ... "

Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan's knee, sliding his thumb in the crease behind it firmly. He drew his thumb back and forth. He looked at Obi-Wan and knew why the Force had allowed the Respect-for-Master's-Authority release to run this long. There was no outward physical emergency in this quiet room. There was a Force-driven one, though, even if he couldn't see it.

"Now wait a moment, Anakin. We've never --- I've never given you cause --- stop that, Anakin, I can't think --- " Starting to tickle; must not laugh.

"The Force doesn't want you to think, Master, not here, not now." His old dreams, his latest dream, the Mother's interference, it all made sense now. The Force meant Anakin to be Obi-Wan's, just as it meant Obi-Wan to be Anakin's. This night would prove it. And there were the flowers. What else could the Force mean? The ominous presence of the fog in the always serene, always beautiful Room of a Thousand Fountains shielded some event dark and terrible, and Anakin was afraid to try to discern more about it. He would rather think about the flowers.

Obi-Wan considered the same events less passionately, never realizing that he was the cause of so much work for the Temple's washing machines when Anakin was fifteen and started laundering his own sheets. He caught sight of Anakin's hickey as Anakin leaned forward and the undergarment's neckline widened. The mottled bruise showed and surely it was his imagination that the red marks interposed on tanned skin formed an Osk. He blinked and the illusion was gone. He got to his feet in record time, Anakin matching his speed so that they both stood in the narrow space between the beds.

"Haven't you ever been tempted, Master?" The flitterbugs pounded madly against the weak glowglobe's luminance.

"No," Obi-Wan said stoutly. "Not like that, anyway. I've been tempted by the Dark Side, Anakin, and I gave in when the Sith hurt Qui-Gon enough to kill him and I planned to pull out the Zabrak's horns one by one and cram them into his eyes. I gave in to temptation and suffered for it, because it nearly worked, I nearly Fell on Naboo because of temptation and I shall not do so on Trow."

Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan never ranted once. He stated these soul-clenching events calmly, in a clear teaching voice, the one that he always used. Oh, Anakin, stop judging. He's had nights of brooding to think about the events. Qui-Gon has been in the Force for eleven years. Master's not going to tear up over it now. More rationalizing, more maturity. He was going to have to watch out or he'd grow up. "What I want from you isn't Dark. Not even close."

The river approached.

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Part Thirty-Four

Obi-Wan stood his ground when Anakin stepped up toe-to-toe, but blocked his Padawan's arm from touching his chest. "You know what 'no attachments' means. You're not stupid. And I don't love you that way, Anakin."

"You don't know how good it can be." Anakin knew that he could love Obi-Wan the same way that he loved Padmé, the same sweet obsession that told him he could never share Obi-Wan with anyone, just like he could never share Padmé with anyone. It was the dream-purpose that told him differently. The dream-purpose said, Love nourishes, it doesn't consume either the lover or the loved one. Stay on the Light side of the bridge, Jedi. Don't you let Obi-Wan push you to the Dark. It's for his greater good.

At that statement, Obi-Wan did lose his composure. "And you do? Who were you with? And when? We are together nearly all the time, except for ... for ... the Zone of Self-Containment! That's when it happened! Was it Zan Arbor? Did she experi--- "

"Stars and galaxies, Ob--- Master! I'm talking about fucking in general!"

"Ohhhh." Obi-Wan didn't use that word at all, and Anakin did only when pushed to extremes. Which he was now. Obi-Wan changed tactics, and stepped back. He turned away from Anakin's intent gaze that made him so uncomfortable. He felt like he was the one being trained. Am I? The Force isn't done with me yet, is that it? He had failed today in convincing Strenghis to join the Republic's cause. Strenghis thought naively that neutrality was possible, that he could gather force pikes or maybe even artillery from the Seps --- Obi-Wan knew he was upset when he resorted to epithets --- to have a show of arms to discourage Republic involvement, and then turn around to threaten the Seps into leaving Trow alone. Strenghis' love for his home touched Obi-Wan, but his ignorance of the conflict's scope depressed him. To protect Trow from Strenghis' misguided leadership, Obi-Wan might have to defend his Negotiator title. Maybe Anakin could help him do it. Maybe, just maybe, Anakin was right.

"Anakin, let's talk."

Here it comes. A teachable moment. "Let's not." Anakin pinned Obi-Wan's arms to his body with a bear hug from the side. He took advantage of the moment to fumble a kiss into Obi-Wan's ear, but kissed bristly hair instead. It was gratifying and relieving when Obi-Wan snorted humorously and turned sideways into a full embrace. They looked each other in the eyes before they both closed their eyes and leaned into a kiss that deepened briefly. Anakin took the lead a second later. Almost blinded by excitement, he nearly dropped them both on Ry-Gaul's old bed, but angled their fall at the last moment onto the double. This time he had no trouble getting hard. He pushed images of the Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy commons onto their bond and shoved them through. Through their undergarments, he could feel Obi-Wan getting hard, too.

There are those shields again, Padawan, what other secrets do you hide, mmmmm? Scents, sounds of Billaqori festivities, Qikal's glowrod coming closer, watch out Anakin, help me to help you Anakin, don't move Anakin, no I mean to say Move! Anakin murmured a "Sorry!" when he rubbed Obi-Wan's sunburned neck with his glove and Obi-Wan hissed into his mouth. They only lightly touched lips as their hands roamed downwards together to free each other's erections before drifting to the garment's dropseat and placing each a bracing hand within. As they pressed together, not moving at all in a tantalizing stasis, Anakin Force-called the last piece of candy, the one left on Ry-Gaul's pillow, unwrapped it in midair, and caught it in his teeth. He bit down slightly on his half to hold it. He rubbed it over Obi-Wan's stubbled cheek, getting it closer and closer to his mouth, when Obi-Wan snapped his head to the side and bit the confection in half.

Sweet, so sweet. Obi-Wan used the Force frivolously himself and found one end of Anakin's braid tie, looping it around to undo it from the glossy hair. He removed one-by-one the three Merit Beads, the yellow Perfect Attendance one that nearly everyone received, the blue Most Improved In Swordsmanship: Junior Division one, and the green Self-Control In Meditation one that had taken Anakin years to earn. He placed them reverentially and safely in the cup next to the complimentary juice carafe behind the glowglobe. The braid unraveled next, three silky brown strands feathering into one wavy length that Obi-Wan yearned to slide his fingers through, but both his hands were occupied now. I'm looking forward to it.

Anakin removed his hands regretfully from tender skin fore and back, having decided that they both were overclothed, and pulled apart the fastenings on the side of the thin garment. He sat up to wriggle out of it impatiently, tearing the underarm seams but not caring in the least. It was the work of a moment to unfasten Obi-Wan's, too, and as he skinned his Master out of his last bit of clothing, he flashed back to his own attack of Togorian measles when he was eleven. Anakin couldn't bear any clothing to touch the itching, furry patches and Obi-Wan had allowed him to lay about their quarters in nothing but his skin. Obi-Wan had pushed up the room temperature to nearly Tatooine-like levels, but had only disrobed to his inner set of tunics. Anakin had thought the man inhuman at that time and since, but now he was revising his opinion.

The river flowed.

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Part Thirty-Five

Anakin pushed things along when he rolled Obi-Wan on top of him, his weight supported on one of Anakin's hips and their bodies at an angle so that their cocks weren't crushed, merely springing upwards to an even greater height, if possible. Obi-Wan leaned up on one elbow and looked downwards to watch themselves rub together, but the elbow slipped on sweating skin and smacked into Anakin's throat on the bruised side. " ... mmmunngh ... " Obi-Wan kissed it better, slipping once again to Anakin's side. Anakin whimpered when he felt Obi-Wan drag his lips downwards and twist his compact body around, never breaking contact, ending up with his head next to Anakin's waist. Obi-Wan broke off the lick long enough to slide one warm hand underneath the small of Anakin's back, curling the fingers upward into a grip on the far side. Hands ... warm ... waist ... dream ... yes. Anakin thought that he could join the Force right then and there, but if he did, then he would have missed the inexpressible sensation of Obi-Wan's tongue spiralling inwards from Anakin's hipbone with lapping loops until Obi-Wan reached Anakin's left ball. Obi-Wan probed it gently, trailing upwards to where the sac joined it to its mate in a puckered seam. "Stop ... won't last ... please ... "

Master Yoda could not have stopped faster than Obi-Wan, sticking his tongue back into his mouth, spitting out a few hairs in the process. He panted excitedly, running a hand along Anakin's flank as they both wondered what to do next. Anakin, thinking guiltily about what Padmé liked, sat up, grabbed a pillow and put it on his lap. He placed the other pillow against the headboard, scootching around until he was directly in the center of the bed and the pillow was supporting his shoulders. He reached to the side, took Obi-Wan's right knee and pulled it across his body so that he had one knee on either side of his hips. He rubbed a soothing hand over Obi-Wan's ass, poking his fingers into the tense cheeks until they relaxed. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at him questioningly, saw Anakin smile, and raised himself up on both elbows between Anakin's legs to wait for whatever Anakin was going to do next.

Anakin began kneading Obi-Wan's ass, marveling at the little line of hair trailing down his spine, waist to cheeks. It was as auburn as the hair on Obi-Wan's head, and in the pinkish light of the glowglobe it looked like aurodium dust. He trailed a flesh finger between the cheeks, down the divide to the perineum and back up again. He did this eight times, and each time Obi-Wan huffed a breath when his opening was brushed. On the ninth time, Anakin spat on his finger and pushed in a little before resuming the routine.

Obi-Wan slumped bonelessly forward off his elbows' support, turning his cheek to one side against the mattress. Anakin was his Padawan. Anakin would not hurt him. This was new, this was strange. Obi-Wan relaxed completely. He put one hand on each of Anakin's ankles and rubbed his thumbs over the anklebones rhythmically. He couldn't access the Force right now, but he didn't need to. This was the same situation as existed on Upper-Cremba-on-Gitchy's commons, an other sense unlike the real galaxy. The only difference was that there was no urgency to prove anything to a proctor. At thirty-six, Obi-Wan felt sometimes that he had nothing left to prove; although some would call that egotism, he called it realism. He was the Sithkiller, a Jedi Master, on the Council, and Master of the Chosen One in his Order. Short of joining the Force in his due time, he had few ambitions. Whoever his Padawan was after Anakin's departure for Knighthood, Obi-Wan felt like he had conquered whatever mysteries of childhood's and adolescence's behavior existed. The next kid could pull no fast ones at all. Obi-Wan felt somewhat sorry for his future Padawans. Ouch.

"Master ... kiss ...sorry ... kiss ... " Anakin corkscrewed forward until he could kiss Obi-Wan's vertebrae somewhere midway along his tense back. He had taken advantage of Obi-Wan's reverie to try a prostate massage, inching forward bit by bit in the same fashion that he used with Padmé when they did other things, although of course with Padmé he had no such target. When Master Luminara had done Anakin's prostate exam, the entire atmosphere reeked unromantically of proper physical hygiene and good health. She was in and out in less than a minute; then again, she had the advantage of micron gloves and blobs of lube. Anakin tried to remember the proper procedure, resuming his stilled finger's activity when Obi-Wan stopped clenching. There, a little forward and up top ...

Goodgoodgood betterbetterbetterbetter Obi-Wan shoved hard into the pillow, squeezing Anakin's ankles. He barely noticed when Anakin slid his mechno-hand under the pillow to provide a pressuring groove of sorts. Obi-Wan did notice when the finger inside stepped up the action into a soft, fast tapping and then the galaxy turned to white noise, everything turned to white noise with not a single outstanding feature except pleasure. betterbetterbest. Obi-Wan arched his back, came and collapsed.

Anakin removed his finger, flexing his ankles to loosen his Master's painful grip. He noted abstractedly that the orgasmic flush turned Obi-Wan's sunburn into a shade of rose the same hue of the blooms on the naynabo tree, but did not match their intensity. He waited thoughtfully until some minutes passed before pulling the handy pillow from beneath Obi-Wan and tossing it to a far corner. Impressive again, Master, and this time without the Force.

The mating pheromones sizzled so thick that even the flitterbugs noticed. "Let's go," signaled one chemically. "Same way we came in." They batted a final time against the hypnotic glowglobe, then broke free of its allure and departed through a slit in the shutters. Even they recognized a need for privacy when they sensed it.

The river sputtered.

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