Anakin/Obi-Wan fic
Title: Orientation
Pairing: Anakin/Obi-Wan
Rating: light R
Summary: Anakin always questions his Master.
Timeline: Clone Wars, post ATOC
Disclaimer: This is not for profit--written for fun only.
A/N: This is a ficlet for a prompt from
philosophy_20
For
temple_mistress, who likes that braid. ;)
"Why do you always turn away when we bathe?" The words, which could be harmless in another tone, bite and accuse when Anakin says them.
Obi-Wan rinses his shoulders and back in the cool river water, then reaches for his towel, wrapping it around his waist before he turns to face Anakin. "Because I believe that it is the appropriate thing to do.”
Anakin lifts his eyebrows, every part of his face challenging Obi-Wan as he curls his lips into a slow grin.
Obi-Wan starts to protest, but catches himself. Ever since they left the battlefield earlier that day, Anakin has been less than helpful. He’s only made smart remarks that vary between sarcastic and flippant, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure where his Padawan’s surly mood has come from.
He reaches for his leggings as they both step onto dry ground, speaking evenly. He wishes they could bathe separately, and avoid this whole issue, but there’s no way he’s going to let Anakin out of his sight in such a violent conflict zone. “You know there are rules about Masters and Padawans.”
Anakin grabs his own leggings, tugging them up and not tying them, letting them rest right below his hips. “Not officially.”
Obi-Wan gathers their belongings and they walk back toward their camp in silence, until they reach Anakin’s tent, where Obi-Wan pauses and says as gently as possible, “Not officially, but I have an obligation, a moral duty to make the right decisions.”
“Am I just an obligation to you, Master?”
Obi-Wan finally sighs in resignation, realizing that Anakin isn’t going to let this go. “No, Anakin, you are-“
“Master.” Anakin waits a few breaths, and then speaks again, this time moving closer to Obi-Wan’s face. His hair rubs against Obi-Wan’s temple, the barest start of a curl almost tickling before he leans closer, whispering into Obi-Wan’s ear. “You aren’t an obligation to me.”
Anakin pushes closer, his bare chest touching Obi-Wan’s. Anakin hasn’t dried off properly, and the graze of his still damp skin shocks Obi-Wan-really shocks him, and it makes him want to gasp.
But Obi-Wan doesn’t gasp, and he doesn’t moan, and he doesn’t shudder. He doesn’t do any of those things, because he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Anakin, his Padawan, and-
Anakin lifts his forefinger lazily, and presses it against Obi-Wan’s parted lips. “Stop gaping, Master.”
Anakin takes his braid into his hand, pulling the tip between his fingers and smoothing it into a point, just as he might manipulate the paintbrush in his art lessons. He seems to study it carefully, and then to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he brings the tip to his mouth, just barely licking the edge, then sucking.
After he licks it once more, Anakin pulls the braid from his lips and places it against Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan freezes, unmoving as Anakin traces his bottom lip with the tip of the braid.
Obi-Wan stands still until his stomach tightens and rolls, and his face flushes. When he realizes that he’s getting hard, Obi-Wan finally does gasp, and he yanks Anakin’s hand from his mouth with a huff. "Do not do that."
Anakin shrugs. "You liked it."
Before he can stop himself, Obi-Wan jerks backward. "I most certainly did not.” He forces himself not to stare at the spot where Anakin’s Padawan braid once again rests against his exposed collarbone.
Flustered, but unwilling to show it, Obi-Wan gives Anakin a firm stare.
Anakin doesn’t appear ashamed, in fact, his eyes brighten and his mouth curves back into a half smirk. He stares at Obi-Wan with remarkable intensity, unwavering and confident. “You did.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. He’s past the point of discussing any of this in a reasonable fashion, so he takes a deep breath and attempts a polite smile. He glances at Anakin’s full lips, still half damp from licking his braid, and shifts his face upward to make eye contact. “Anakin. That is enough. I am going to be bed now.”
Before he can turn to leave for his tent, Anakin grabs his hand and presses it against his collarbone. He pushes right on the exact spot that Obi-Wan tried not to stare at earlier, letting Obi-Wan’s fingers skim across the tan skin, then he pulls Obi-Wan’s hand up to his mouth, licking up the length of his finger.
Once he’s done, Anakin drops Obi-Wan’s hand and steps away, showing off pretty white teeth. “You’ll be back,” he says as he walks into his tent with a wicked grin.
Pairing: Anakin/Obi-Wan
Rating: light R
Summary: Anakin always questions his Master.
Timeline: Clone Wars, post ATOC
Disclaimer: This is not for profit--written for fun only.
A/N: This is a ficlet for a prompt from
philosophy_20
For
temple_mistress, who likes that braid. ;)
"Why do you always turn away when we bathe?" The words, which could be harmless in another tone, bite and accuse when Anakin says them.
Obi-Wan rinses his shoulders and back in the cool river water, then reaches for his towel, wrapping it around his waist before he turns to face Anakin. "Because I believe that it is the appropriate thing to do.”
Anakin lifts his eyebrows, every part of his face challenging Obi-Wan as he curls his lips into a slow grin.
Obi-Wan starts to protest, but catches himself. Ever since they left the battlefield earlier that day, Anakin has been less than helpful. He’s only made smart remarks that vary between sarcastic and flippant, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure where his Padawan’s surly mood has come from.
He reaches for his leggings as they both step onto dry ground, speaking evenly. He wishes they could bathe separately, and avoid this whole issue, but there’s no way he’s going to let Anakin out of his sight in such a violent conflict zone. “You know there are rules about Masters and Padawans.”
Anakin grabs his own leggings, tugging them up and not tying them, letting them rest right below his hips. “Not officially.”
Obi-Wan gathers their belongings and they walk back toward their camp in silence, until they reach Anakin’s tent, where Obi-Wan pauses and says as gently as possible, “Not officially, but I have an obligation, a moral duty to make the right decisions.”
“Am I just an obligation to you, Master?”
Obi-Wan finally sighs in resignation, realizing that Anakin isn’t going to let this go. “No, Anakin, you are-“
“Master.” Anakin waits a few breaths, and then speaks again, this time moving closer to Obi-Wan’s face. His hair rubs against Obi-Wan’s temple, the barest start of a curl almost tickling before he leans closer, whispering into Obi-Wan’s ear. “You aren’t an obligation to me.”
Anakin pushes closer, his bare chest touching Obi-Wan’s. Anakin hasn’t dried off properly, and the graze of his still damp skin shocks Obi-Wan-really shocks him, and it makes him want to gasp.
But Obi-Wan doesn’t gasp, and he doesn’t moan, and he doesn’t shudder. He doesn’t do any of those things, because he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Anakin, his Padawan, and-
Anakin lifts his forefinger lazily, and presses it against Obi-Wan’s parted lips. “Stop gaping, Master.”
Anakin takes his braid into his hand, pulling the tip between his fingers and smoothing it into a point, just as he might manipulate the paintbrush in his art lessons. He seems to study it carefully, and then to Obi-Wan’s surprise, he brings the tip to his mouth, just barely licking the edge, then sucking.
After he licks it once more, Anakin pulls the braid from his lips and places it against Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan freezes, unmoving as Anakin traces his bottom lip with the tip of the braid.
Obi-Wan stands still until his stomach tightens and rolls, and his face flushes. When he realizes that he’s getting hard, Obi-Wan finally does gasp, and he yanks Anakin’s hand from his mouth with a huff. "Do not do that."
Anakin shrugs. "You liked it."
Before he can stop himself, Obi-Wan jerks backward. "I most certainly did not.” He forces himself not to stare at the spot where Anakin’s Padawan braid once again rests against his exposed collarbone.
Flustered, but unwilling to show it, Obi-Wan gives Anakin a firm stare.
Anakin doesn’t appear ashamed, in fact, his eyes brighten and his mouth curves back into a half smirk. He stares at Obi-Wan with remarkable intensity, unwavering and confident. “You did.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. He’s past the point of discussing any of this in a reasonable fashion, so he takes a deep breath and attempts a polite smile. He glances at Anakin’s full lips, still half damp from licking his braid, and shifts his face upward to make eye contact. “Anakin. That is enough. I am going to be bed now.”
Before he can turn to leave for his tent, Anakin grabs his hand and presses it against his collarbone. He pushes right on the exact spot that Obi-Wan tried not to stare at earlier, letting Obi-Wan’s fingers skim across the tan skin, then he pulls Obi-Wan’s hand up to his mouth, licking up the length of his finger.
Once he’s done, Anakin drops Obi-Wan’s hand and steps away, showing off pretty white teeth. “You’ll be back,” he says as he walks into his tent with a wicked grin.