Try Anything. Twice. Well, Maybe Three Times. (Ani/Obi, NC-17)
the_bone_doctor requested a fic with m/m, back-to-back, double-dildo sex. Our boys came through with angst, love schmoop, and a purple sex toy.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars, and will hopefully never do anything like this with it. I am not making any money from this fanfic, but I do accept giggles. :)
Try Anything. Twice. Well, Maybe Three Times.
Curiosity is at the heart of what it means to be a Jedi. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan had said when he suggested that they try this new contraption he found at Secret Pleasures, down near Dex’s Diner. Anakin had been dubious, but agreeable; as usual, Anakin was up for anything.
But now, standing very thoroughly lubed in the middle of his bedroom floor, Obi-Wan had to admit that perhaps for their third time together he should have chosen something a bit more ... user-friendly. He frowned at the purple rod, equipped with two swelling, rounded ends, and said, “Well, perhaps a bit more oil?”
Anakin, still gloriously naked but noticeably less excited than before, tipped his head to one side. “You’re the expert, Master.”
Well, that wasn't precisely true. He’d had a couple of enjoyable experiences as a Padawan ... that time with Quinlan Vos had certainly been good, and he’d explored the female side of things, too ... but that was all a very long while ago, and Obi-Wan was not personally convinced that it was like riding a hoverbike. He could see any number of things that one might forget how to do.
Also, while he was a little reluctant to admit this to his Padawan -- former Padawan, as of two weeks ago -- he had never tried this particular form of sexual pleasure at all. He wasn’t sure he’d be trying it now except ... except ...
Anakin was young. At nineteen he was practically glowing with health and vigor. In fact, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that he had ever, himself, been quite that fit. Certainly he’d never been that tall. Jedi training had kept him from ever being flabby, and he’d retained his hard-won agility by practicing. Extensively. Every day. But nothing could quite disguise the fact that, of the two of them, Anakin was the athlete. What Obi-Wan earned with meticulous training, Anakin had just by breathing.
So of course he trained religiously anyway. Never missed a lightsaber practice session, ran kilometers every day, practiced gymnastics as though he were getting ready for a new career as a tumbler. Obi-Wan had seen him turn seventy-six double-twist backflips without a pause: now, that was athleticism. And even though he would never admit this to Anakin -- who would, of course, insist that he didn’t need Obi-Wan to be anything but himself, that all they needed was love (Anakin wasn’t original, but he was sweet) -- Obi-Wan couldn’t quite silence the vague but persistent fear that he couldn’t keep up. There wasn’t a hope in the galaxy that he could match Anakin’s sheer animal vigor ... but maybe what he lacked in tireless energy he could make up in inventive curiosity.
There was more to great sex, after all, than just unbridled enthusiasm and a body that never tired.
Obi-Wan glanced back at Anakin, a golden Corellian god in his bedroom, and thought, Well, maybe not a lot more.
Sensing his uncertainty, Anakin said, “Don’t worry about it, Obi-Wan. We can do what we did last time. It’ll be fun.”
And Obi-Wan knew he meant it: Anakin radiated warmth and certainty with the same energy he had recently been giving to memorizing his former master’s body with his tongue. Except ... this was only their third time. Anakin wasn’t bored yet ... but surely it wouldn’t take him long to wake up and realize that he was younger, fitter, and far more naturally talented than the man he’d chosen to initiate him into the joys of sex (apparently, Anakin hadn’t indulged with any of his fellow Padawans -- who knew he’d had this strange, generous impulse to wait until his master was free of the restraints of their mentoring relationship to make his move?). And Obi-Wan would accept the inevitable when it came, accept Anakin’s need to move on and find someone more his equal ... but not yet. He wanted to make this impossible, entirely unexpected gift last as long as it could.
And for that, he needed more than just Obi-Wan.
Anakin was beginning to get his worried face on; Obi-Wan had been standing and thinking too long. “Mas -- Obi-Wan. If you don’t want to try that tonight, then we won’t.” He didn’t so much smile as glow, boundlessly cheerful. “I can think of some other things we could do.”
And the thought of Anakin outdistancing him in inventiveness as well as stamina was enough to galvanize Obi-Wan into action.
“No. I want to do this; it will pleasure us both. We just have to figure out a way to make it work, back to back.”
Anakin did grin, this time. “That’s what the Force is for, Master.”
“Please don’t call me that. Not when we’re ... you know.”
“All right, Obi-Wan. Come back here and let’s see if the mechanical genius can’t figure this out.”
Well, Anakin had never lacked for confidence.
The other side of that, of course, was that Anakin was usually right. When he said he could do something, he could and he did. And he was right about the double-ended purple dildo, too. As suspicious as he was of it -- “I don’t see what we need this for, Master; we’ve got each other” he’d said when Obi-Wan took it out of the bag -- once he was convinced that Obi-Wan had his heart set on trying it, he set out to make it happen with the same relentless determination he’d given to his studies as a Padawan, that he still gave to impossible space battles.
“The trouble is that you’re so tense,” Anakin said now, leaning over to kiss Obi-Wan’s ass cheeks.
Obi-Wan started in surprise. “I am not --”
“Yes, you are.” If he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn Anakin was laughing. “Relax.”
Obi-Wan made a determined effort to do as he was instructed.
Anakin did laugh, then. “So proper, Obi-Wan,” he murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear. “I guess I’ll just have to relax you myself.”
He slid down, kissing his way down Obi-Wan’s spine, his fingers kneading lower, then teasing at his opening, sending waves of comfort through the Force: everything’s all right, love, shhh, there there there, tell me when it ... yes, like that, open to me ... easy, why so tense? ... won’t hurt you, I promise ... there, yes, a little more ...
Obi-Wan felt something a little cooler and a little softer -- Obi-Wan had bought the cushiony version, he wasn’t that adventuresome -- than Anakin’s fingers pressing against his opening and twitched, but ... “Shhh,” Anakin murmured, stroking forward with his fingers to cup Obi-Wan’s sac and tease him, just a little, and the next twitch wasn’t nervousness but delight, and Anakin laughed again as the swelled end slid into place against his prostate and Obi-Wan bucked once with pleasure.
“My turn,” he said softly, and Obi-Wan realized he had no idea how he was going to get turned around to make Anakin ready and still be able to insert the damn thing.
But Anakin, apparently -- annoyingly -- had thought of everything. “Touch me,” he whispered, and Obi-Wan reached back with both hands and found Anakin back-to-back with him, and he could just reach his hard length on the other side, and then he felt a slight pressure and realized that Anakin was taking care of the penetration issue himself, using the Force and an unexpected -- but deeply appreciated -- talent.
And then Anakin rocked against him, and Obi-Wan realized he was supposed to rock back, and then there was nothing for several minutes except mindless joy, the feeling of bodies bumping enthusiastically together, the feeling of hitting just the right spot inside, the feeling of hands groping, gently tugging ... a tightening feeling ... Anakin, oooohhh... and the sudden hard shudders of release.
When it was over and they’d caught their breaths a little, Anakin finagled them free of the purple contraption -- had it been more trouble than it was worth? Obi-Wan couldn’t decide -- and gave it a bemused glance before tossing it back into the bag, to be cleaned and disinfected later, probably by Obi-Wan.
“Well, Master?” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, not too gingerly. “Was that what you wanted?”
Not really. It hadn’t served the goal of showing Anakin that he had knowledge and inventiveness to bring to their newly altered relationship, not when Anakin had ended up doing most of the work himself. But he couldn’t exactly tell Anakin that he was trying -- however obliquely -- to compete. He had a feeling the younger man wouldn’t understand. “Yes, Anakin. It was lovely.”
“Lovely.” Anakin sounded logy but unconvinced. He stretched out on the bed and was silent for a minute, supremely unconcerned with his own nudity. Obi-Wan was fighting the urge to get up and retrieve his bathrobe because he knew it would break the mood, such as it was.
“I’m sorry,” Anakin said finally, quietly. “I should have realized you’d want ... someone older, more experienced.”
Obi-Wan had been about to sit up and get his robe anyway, mood be damned, but now he turned and stared at Anakin, dumbfounded. “What?”
Anakin shifted, for the first time looking uncomfortable, and suddenly Obi-Wan flashed back to a moment he hadn’t thought of in years: he and Anakin had been a Master-Padawan team for maybe three weeks and Anakin, coming out of his bedroom late one night in his pajamas, had shuffled over and put his hand on a surprised Obi-Wan’s knee and said, “I’m sorry, Master. I know you didn’t choose me as your apprentice -- not on purpose, I mean. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.” The memory hurt more than it should.
Over ten years later, Anakin had the same mixture of hurt and confused guilt on his face.
He didn’t quite meet Obi-Wan’s eyes as he said, “I didn’t think you’d be bored quite so soon. I mean, I ... I guess I didn’t realize what you needed. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. “Anakin ... what are you talking about?”
“It’s the third time,” Anakin said. His voice sounded oddly hollow, not like Anakin. “It’s the third time we’ve ... and I thought we were just getting to know each other’s bodies, but you -- you’re already wanting to mix things up.” Displaying a total disregard for Jedi reticence, Anakin drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t mind, I really don’t, but I thought ... I don’t know what I thought.”
Obi-Wan decided the robe was going to have to wait. He scooted under the covers and pulled Anakin against him. “Yes, you do,” he said, cringing when he realized he was using his Master tone and not a lover’s tone. “You have only to clear your mind and search your feelings to know the truth inside.” Qui-Gon had said that once, and he’d been right. The situation had been entirely different -- something to do with the Chandrilan Embassy -- but it was still true.
Anakin took another deep breath, calmer this time. “I guess I’m just not as experienced as you are,” he said reluctantly, but Obi-Wan had a feeling that wasn’t exactly it. “I mean, I know I should have expected it, but I guess ... somehow I always thought toys were for beings who already knew each other well and wanted to try something different. Or for couples who had anatomical differences and needed ... you know ... some help. But we ... it worked last time, didn’t it? For you?”
Obi-Wan remembered coming so hard into Anakin he’d collapsed like a wet string afterward. “Of course it worked. I don’t see what ... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” Anakin protested. “It’s not the toy, that one or any other. It’s ... I just realized that I can’t possibly hope to keep up with you. You have so much more experience, and you invent things, you just come up with them in your head, and I can’t ... I don’t know how to please you, or ...”
Oh. Oh. Something fell into place in Obi-Wan’s mind and it was as though the galaxy had suddenly snapped into focus. The symmetry of their insecurities was either tragic or laughable. He’d wait until he could decide which before he could explain it to Anakin. In the meantime ...
He reached out and took Anakin’s hand in his and kissed the palm. “I don’t want someone more experienced, Anakin,” he said, looking up into the boy’s anxious blue eyes so he could see he meant it. “I just want you. And the toys ... they can wait until later, if you want.”
Anakin frowned again. “It’s not about that, I told you --”
“Yes, all right, Anakin. Maybe you can go to the shop with me, next time, and we’ll build a collection together. But ... slowly. And right now ...”
Anakin raised a curious eyebrow as Obi-Wan trailed off. “Yes, Master?”
“I don’t think I’ve spent nearly enough time kissing you lately.”
And about five minutes later, Obi-Wan remembered that the advantage of youth and inexperience was that Anakin was always ready to try anything. Again. And again ... and again.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars, and will hopefully never do anything like this with it. I am not making any money from this fanfic, but I do accept giggles. :)
Try Anything. Twice. Well, Maybe Three Times.
Curiosity is at the heart of what it means to be a Jedi. At least, that’s what Obi-Wan had said when he suggested that they try this new contraption he found at Secret Pleasures, down near Dex’s Diner. Anakin had been dubious, but agreeable; as usual, Anakin was up for anything.
But now, standing very thoroughly lubed in the middle of his bedroom floor, Obi-Wan had to admit that perhaps for their third time together he should have chosen something a bit more ... user-friendly. He frowned at the purple rod, equipped with two swelling, rounded ends, and said, “Well, perhaps a bit more oil?”
Anakin, still gloriously naked but noticeably less excited than before, tipped his head to one side. “You’re the expert, Master.”
Well, that wasn't precisely true. He’d had a couple of enjoyable experiences as a Padawan ... that time with Quinlan Vos had certainly been good, and he’d explored the female side of things, too ... but that was all a very long while ago, and Obi-Wan was not personally convinced that it was like riding a hoverbike. He could see any number of things that one might forget how to do.
Also, while he was a little reluctant to admit this to his Padawan -- former Padawan, as of two weeks ago -- he had never tried this particular form of sexual pleasure at all. He wasn’t sure he’d be trying it now except ... except ...
Anakin was young. At nineteen he was practically glowing with health and vigor. In fact, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that he had ever, himself, been quite that fit. Certainly he’d never been that tall. Jedi training had kept him from ever being flabby, and he’d retained his hard-won agility by practicing. Extensively. Every day. But nothing could quite disguise the fact that, of the two of them, Anakin was the athlete. What Obi-Wan earned with meticulous training, Anakin had just by breathing.
So of course he trained religiously anyway. Never missed a lightsaber practice session, ran kilometers every day, practiced gymnastics as though he were getting ready for a new career as a tumbler. Obi-Wan had seen him turn seventy-six double-twist backflips without a pause: now, that was athleticism. And even though he would never admit this to Anakin -- who would, of course, insist that he didn’t need Obi-Wan to be anything but himself, that all they needed was love (Anakin wasn’t original, but he was sweet) -- Obi-Wan couldn’t quite silence the vague but persistent fear that he couldn’t keep up. There wasn’t a hope in the galaxy that he could match Anakin’s sheer animal vigor ... but maybe what he lacked in tireless energy he could make up in inventive curiosity.
There was more to great sex, after all, than just unbridled enthusiasm and a body that never tired.
Obi-Wan glanced back at Anakin, a golden Corellian god in his bedroom, and thought, Well, maybe not a lot more.
Sensing his uncertainty, Anakin said, “Don’t worry about it, Obi-Wan. We can do what we did last time. It’ll be fun.”
And Obi-Wan knew he meant it: Anakin radiated warmth and certainty with the same energy he had recently been giving to memorizing his former master’s body with his tongue. Except ... this was only their third time. Anakin wasn’t bored yet ... but surely it wouldn’t take him long to wake up and realize that he was younger, fitter, and far more naturally talented than the man he’d chosen to initiate him into the joys of sex (apparently, Anakin hadn’t indulged with any of his fellow Padawans -- who knew he’d had this strange, generous impulse to wait until his master was free of the restraints of their mentoring relationship to make his move?). And Obi-Wan would accept the inevitable when it came, accept Anakin’s need to move on and find someone more his equal ... but not yet. He wanted to make this impossible, entirely unexpected gift last as long as it could.
And for that, he needed more than just Obi-Wan.
Anakin was beginning to get his worried face on; Obi-Wan had been standing and thinking too long. “Mas -- Obi-Wan. If you don’t want to try that tonight, then we won’t.” He didn’t so much smile as glow, boundlessly cheerful. “I can think of some other things we could do.”
And the thought of Anakin outdistancing him in inventiveness as well as stamina was enough to galvanize Obi-Wan into action.
“No. I want to do this; it will pleasure us both. We just have to figure out a way to make it work, back to back.”
Anakin did grin, this time. “That’s what the Force is for, Master.”
“Please don’t call me that. Not when we’re ... you know.”
“All right, Obi-Wan. Come back here and let’s see if the mechanical genius can’t figure this out.”
Well, Anakin had never lacked for confidence.
The other side of that, of course, was that Anakin was usually right. When he said he could do something, he could and he did. And he was right about the double-ended purple dildo, too. As suspicious as he was of it -- “I don’t see what we need this for, Master; we’ve got each other” he’d said when Obi-Wan took it out of the bag -- once he was convinced that Obi-Wan had his heart set on trying it, he set out to make it happen with the same relentless determination he’d given to his studies as a Padawan, that he still gave to impossible space battles.
“The trouble is that you’re so tense,” Anakin said now, leaning over to kiss Obi-Wan’s ass cheeks.
Obi-Wan started in surprise. “I am not --”
“Yes, you are.” If he hadn’t known better, he could have sworn Anakin was laughing. “Relax.”
Obi-Wan made a determined effort to do as he was instructed.
Anakin did laugh, then. “So proper, Obi-Wan,” he murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear. “I guess I’ll just have to relax you myself.”
He slid down, kissing his way down Obi-Wan’s spine, his fingers kneading lower, then teasing at his opening, sending waves of comfort through the Force: everything’s all right, love, shhh, there there there, tell me when it ... yes, like that, open to me ... easy, why so tense? ... won’t hurt you, I promise ... there, yes, a little more ...
Obi-Wan felt something a little cooler and a little softer -- Obi-Wan had bought the cushiony version, he wasn’t that adventuresome -- than Anakin’s fingers pressing against his opening and twitched, but ... “Shhh,” Anakin murmured, stroking forward with his fingers to cup Obi-Wan’s sac and tease him, just a little, and the next twitch wasn’t nervousness but delight, and Anakin laughed again as the swelled end slid into place against his prostate and Obi-Wan bucked once with pleasure.
“My turn,” he said softly, and Obi-Wan realized he had no idea how he was going to get turned around to make Anakin ready and still be able to insert the damn thing.
But Anakin, apparently -- annoyingly -- had thought of everything. “Touch me,” he whispered, and Obi-Wan reached back with both hands and found Anakin back-to-back with him, and he could just reach his hard length on the other side, and then he felt a slight pressure and realized that Anakin was taking care of the penetration issue himself, using the Force and an unexpected -- but deeply appreciated -- talent.
And then Anakin rocked against him, and Obi-Wan realized he was supposed to rock back, and then there was nothing for several minutes except mindless joy, the feeling of bodies bumping enthusiastically together, the feeling of hitting just the right spot inside, the feeling of hands groping, gently tugging ... a tightening feeling ... Anakin, oooohhh... and the sudden hard shudders of release.
When it was over and they’d caught their breaths a little, Anakin finagled them free of the purple contraption -- had it been more trouble than it was worth? Obi-Wan couldn’t decide -- and gave it a bemused glance before tossing it back into the bag, to be cleaned and disinfected later, probably by Obi-Wan.
“Well, Master?” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, not too gingerly. “Was that what you wanted?”
Not really. It hadn’t served the goal of showing Anakin that he had knowledge and inventiveness to bring to their newly altered relationship, not when Anakin had ended up doing most of the work himself. But he couldn’t exactly tell Anakin that he was trying -- however obliquely -- to compete. He had a feeling the younger man wouldn’t understand. “Yes, Anakin. It was lovely.”
“Lovely.” Anakin sounded logy but unconvinced. He stretched out on the bed and was silent for a minute, supremely unconcerned with his own nudity. Obi-Wan was fighting the urge to get up and retrieve his bathrobe because he knew it would break the mood, such as it was.
“I’m sorry,” Anakin said finally, quietly. “I should have realized you’d want ... someone older, more experienced.”
Obi-Wan had been about to sit up and get his robe anyway, mood be damned, but now he turned and stared at Anakin, dumbfounded. “What?”
Anakin shifted, for the first time looking uncomfortable, and suddenly Obi-Wan flashed back to a moment he hadn’t thought of in years: he and Anakin had been a Master-Padawan team for maybe three weeks and Anakin, coming out of his bedroom late one night in his pajamas, had shuffled over and put his hand on a surprised Obi-Wan’s knee and said, “I’m sorry, Master. I know you didn’t choose me as your apprentice -- not on purpose, I mean. I’ll do my best to make it up to you.” The memory hurt more than it should.
Over ten years later, Anakin had the same mixture of hurt and confused guilt on his face.
He didn’t quite meet Obi-Wan’s eyes as he said, “I didn’t think you’d be bored quite so soon. I mean, I ... I guess I didn’t realize what you needed. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. “Anakin ... what are you talking about?”
“It’s the third time,” Anakin said. His voice sounded oddly hollow, not like Anakin. “It’s the third time we’ve ... and I thought we were just getting to know each other’s bodies, but you -- you’re already wanting to mix things up.” Displaying a total disregard for Jedi reticence, Anakin drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t mind, I really don’t, but I thought ... I don’t know what I thought.”
Obi-Wan decided the robe was going to have to wait. He scooted under the covers and pulled Anakin against him. “Yes, you do,” he said, cringing when he realized he was using his Master tone and not a lover’s tone. “You have only to clear your mind and search your feelings to know the truth inside.” Qui-Gon had said that once, and he’d been right. The situation had been entirely different -- something to do with the Chandrilan Embassy -- but it was still true.
Anakin took another deep breath, calmer this time. “I guess I’m just not as experienced as you are,” he said reluctantly, but Obi-Wan had a feeling that wasn’t exactly it. “I mean, I know I should have expected it, but I guess ... somehow I always thought toys were for beings who already knew each other well and wanted to try something different. Or for couples who had anatomical differences and needed ... you know ... some help. But we ... it worked last time, didn’t it? For you?”
Obi-Wan remembered coming so hard into Anakin he’d collapsed like a wet string afterward. “Of course it worked. I don’t see what ... I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” Anakin protested. “It’s not the toy, that one or any other. It’s ... I just realized that I can’t possibly hope to keep up with you. You have so much more experience, and you invent things, you just come up with them in your head, and I can’t ... I don’t know how to please you, or ...”
Oh. Oh. Something fell into place in Obi-Wan’s mind and it was as though the galaxy had suddenly snapped into focus. The symmetry of their insecurities was either tragic or laughable. He’d wait until he could decide which before he could explain it to Anakin. In the meantime ...
He reached out and took Anakin’s hand in his and kissed the palm. “I don’t want someone more experienced, Anakin,” he said, looking up into the boy’s anxious blue eyes so he could see he meant it. “I just want you. And the toys ... they can wait until later, if you want.”
Anakin frowned again. “It’s not about that, I told you --”
“Yes, all right, Anakin. Maybe you can go to the shop with me, next time, and we’ll build a collection together. But ... slowly. And right now ...”
Anakin raised a curious eyebrow as Obi-Wan trailed off. “Yes, Master?”
“I don’t think I’ve spent nearly enough time kissing you lately.”
And about five minutes later, Obi-Wan remembered that the advantage of youth and inexperience was that Anakin was always ready to try anything. Again. And again ... and again.