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Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open and his head fell back as he came—again, again, again. Anakin’s Master was fucked out, his stomach covered in his own come. The both of them were drenched in sweat, and Anakin’s hips still pistoned in and out of Obi-Wan as if Obi-Wan’s life depended on it.
Because it did.
This was the product of a brand new and particularly insidious Separatist weapon that had just been tested on the 212th battalion. Fortunately, Obi-Wan had been the only one to catch the brunt of the blast, as he’d been far in the front and had used the Force to repel the gas away from his troopers long enough for them to retreat until it dissipated to a safer level. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan had been fully incapacitated, dizzy and desperately needing the antidote to the poison he’d been infected with.
Come. He needed someone’s come, but not his own. And a lot of it.
Anakin had been half a moon away, when Obi-Wan’s medic had commed him about it. He’d been right there with Obi-Wan within an hour, and, well—
Obi-Wan hadn’t really been in his right mind, when he’d asked for Anakin to be with him instead of one of the clones. Anakin knew that, knew that Obi-Wan probably would never have chosen him otherwise. But. Obi-Wan would die if no one pumped him full of come. And Anakin would take what he could get.
Now Anakin was here, fire-bright pleasure scorching him from the outside, getting the incredible privilege of feeling Obi-Wan’s body squeezing down on his cock every few minutes. The shoddy tent they were fucking in probably barely muffled the loud slap-slap-slap of skin on skin, only growing progressively louder during their coupling as their bodies got wetter and Anakin’s self-control waned.
There was little sense in holding on and drawing this out—the medicine wasn’t in taking cock, it was in taking come, absorbing Anakin’s seed to counteract the poison Obi-Wan had inhaled. But Anakin couldn’t help but want to slow down, really savor the splotchy red patches of skin underneath Obi-Wan’s chest hair, inscribe upon his memory the way Obi-Wan moaned like a two-credit schutta when Anakin hit his prostate in a direct strike or when overwhelmed by yet another orgasm, soak in the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hot, wet, tight hole around his cock until he would never be able to forget it even if he never got it again.
Which he probably wouldn’t, but—Obi-Wan wanted him now, begged him “harder, faster, Anakin—” with such a fervent desperation that it made Anakin’s gut boil like molten rock. Anakin could almost imagine a bed instead of a sleeping bag, walls that kept their room a sanctuary for the two of them. Maybe he could even kiss Obi-Wan, which he was not brave enough to try now because his heart would dash into a million pieces if Obi-Wan pushed him away even an inch when he was naked and vulnerable like this, but he could imagine it all the same. He could imagine that Obi-Wan’s eyes on him weren’t just fevered, were filled with the same deep, all-consuming passion and love that Anakin kept like a treasured jewel in his own chest.
Eventually, of course, Anakin couldn’t hold on any longer, and that too was its own sort of bliss. Obi-Wan clung to his neck and whimpered as Anakin thrust in a few times more and then fucked his cock in as deep as it would go, so that Obi-Wan’s ‘medicine’ would go to the right place. Anakin leaned in close, so close that they were nearly touching all along their torsos for several moments, before he straightened up again.
His muscles were languid and loose from his own orgasm, but still at the forefront of his mind were two facts: one, that Anakin would likely never have Obi-Wan like this again, and two, that Obi-Wan needed his come. It needed to absorb into Obi-Wan’s system in the next twelve hours, or Obi-Wan would suffer from a whole slew of steadily worsening symptoms before he faded away entirely.
“Just a little more, Master,” Anakin murmured, giving Obi-Wan the opportunity to kick him or tell him off if he didn’t want Anakin’s further attentions.
When nothing other than an amused huff was directed his way, Anakin ran his fingers over Obi-Wan’s hip, where some of Obi-Wan’s own errant come had sprayed during his multiple orgasms. Obi-Wan’s spend was still warmed by his body, a little watery from his sweat. Anakin collected it up, feeling its smooth, clinging texture on his fingers.
Then he pressed those same fingers into his mouth. If this was to be the only time, then he wanted to be able to remember the burst of bitter salt on his tongue, the heady masculinity of Obi-Wan’s spend specifically. It was like nothing he’d ever tasted before, and it was the most delicious thing Anakin had ever had in his entire life, he was sure of it. He swirled his tongue around two of his fingers, wanting to make sure he had gotten all of it, had coated his entire mouth with it, before he swallowed it down. His eyes slid closed as he savored this most intimate delicacy, and only opened again when Obi-Wan spoke.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan gasped, like he’d been stabbed in the gut. He watched Anakin with pupils blown and eyes lidded as Anakin stole Obi-Wan’s seed for himself.
Obi-Wan's cock twitched over his stomach, still hard after all this time. Kix and the 212th’s medic had agreed that it likely would stay that way until the poison had been fully neutralized—something about his body’s futile attempt to treat the condition on his own. To Anakin, it was the hottest thing ever to see Obi-Wan completely covered in his own come, his chest heaving from the exertion but still hard as hell and needing it.
“What is it? Does your dick still hurt?”
It had, when they’d started. When Anakin had come into the tent to help Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan had been stripping his own cock with his hand while whimpering worse than he did whenever he was injured. That had passed as soon as Anakin had crammed his achingly hard cock in him, though, and Obi-Wan hadn’t complained about it more than once.
“Not—not in any meaningful way,” Obi-Wan murmured. “But that was so—so crude, what you did.”
“Did you not like it?” Anakin asked, his fingers drifting toward Obi-Wan again without much thought.
“I—well—” Obi-Wan flushed, and then even further when Anakin’s fingers began to rub once again at the mess Obi-Wan had made. “That’s irrelevant.”
"Irrelevant? Is it?"
Obi-Wan whimpered as Anakin scooped at his come again, his hips kicking up a little in Anakin's lap.
Anakin watched some come drip in a long, thin strand from his fingers when he picked them up again. Once more, he popped his fingers in his mouth, tasting his Master’s thick, delectable seed. If he thought Obi-Wan would be at all amiable to the idea, he would have maybe tried to lick all of Obi-Wan’s spend up, cleaning him with his tongue like a lothcat with its mate. As it was though, he just looked back again to Obi-Wan’s cock, twitching and red and desperate.
“That looks like it hurts, still, Master.”
Obi-Wan flushed that beautiful mottled red again, which made his skin darker than his hair and beard, and then he reached a sheepish hand down between his legs, to the base of his cock. Anakin stalled him with his mechanical hand, though, running his own natural fingers up Obi-Wan’s cock in his stead. Obi-Wan’s lips dropped open and he moaned again as ropes of watery come shot from his cock almost instantly, messing up what Anakin had just cleaned.
“You called me to take care of you,” Anakin said seriously. “And I—the main part is done, Master, so you can tell me to leave if you want. But I want to help you. I—I need to help you, please.”
He didn’t want to leave—he wasn’t ready for this to end. He hadn’t experienced sex with his Master quite thoroughly enough yet. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get to that point, where he'd had enough, but for now he was still clinging hopefully to every moment he got, archiving every second in his memory as best he could to revisit over, and over, and over again. But if Obi-Wan kicked him out, having already gotten what he needed—
Obi-Wan hitched his legs a little bit, spreading them even further though they had already been spread, the muscles trembling and shaking still in the aftermath of his orgasm. “You... you can stay.”
His breath came out shuddering, but Anakin dove right in again, finally pulling his cock out of Obi-Wan's hole only so that he could get his mouth on that thick, sweaty body like he’d wanted to scant seconds ago. He still didn’t have the courage to do anything so strange as licking Obi-Wan’s entire torso, if only because Obi-Wan’s scolding of his crudeness weighted heavily in the back of his mind, but he lapped at Obi-Wan’s cock, and then down to his balls. He swallowed whatever trace amounts of come he came across, but he was mostly focused on getting Obi-Wan to make more of it.
Anakin kissed the joint of Obi-Wan’s inner thigh, just where the tendon was, and the sound Obi-Wan made would be burned into Anakin’s memory forever, without any effort on his part. It just was.
As Anakin continued his gentle exploration of the parts of Obi-Wan’s body he’d always been certain he would never be allowed to see let alone touch, he noticed that Obi-Wan’s red, puffy rim was leaking a little. Anakin’s translucent come slipped out, glistening in the light of the sodium lamp and sliding down into the cleft of Obi-Wan's ass. Anakin’s heart stopped for a second upon seeing it, but then he reached out, dragging two fingers along the line of his own spend. He pushed it back into Obi-Wan’s hole, as deep as he could make it go—and Obi-Wan writhed on his fingers, crying out and shivering at the sensation of it. Anakin couldn’t help but scissor his fingers inside, gently, before pulling out.
Anakin paused to rid himself of a new temptation, still staring at Obi-Wan’s fucked-out hole. He found himself salivating at the thought of using his mouth on Obi-Wan there too, but—no. No matter what, he couldn’t do anything but push his come back into Obi-Wan’s ass; that was a matter of Obi-Wan’s health, and Anakin would give that nothing less than the gravity it deserved.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, strangled as his hands grasped and then pulled Anakin closer by his hair, “please, please don’t stop. Please, I need—”
“I’ll lick the come out of you if I keep going, Master,” Anakin replied, oddly apologetic. He kissed the soft part of Obi-Wan’s taint, to the tune of a desperate whine. “It’s meant to be in you, not in me.”
Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, then away, and his face was flushed and sweaty as he panted out, “You can always give me another dose, can’t you? We don’t need to be done just yet—Master Plo and his battalion should have already cleared out the rest of the droids by now. There’s… there’s time.”
Something thrilled in Anakin, butterflies beating their frantic wings deep inside. He almost couldn’t believe Obi-Wan was saying this to him. He’d never thought—with how much of a flawless Jedi Master Obi-Wan had always seemed to be, Anakin never would have thought he would have wanted to indulge in something so frivolous and carnal as getting eaten out after having the Force fucked out of him, let alone by his former Padawan. But, naturally—
“As long as you want, Obi-Wan,” Anakin assented quickly, eagerly, with passion that Obi-Wan gave back in the way he pulled Anakin up against his hole. “I can go as many times as you want me to.”
“Don’t make promises you’re unable to keep, my young Padawan,” Obi-Wan moaned, already starting to rock his hips and grind his hole against Anakin’s face. “I’m sure I taught you that.”
Anakin’s response—that he would be able to keep up with such an old man—was muffled by the meat of Obi-Wan’s ass, as he truly got to work bringing Obi-Wan off again until he was ready to fuck him another round. He felt light and airy, about to be blown away except for where he was grounded by Obi-Wan’s hands clinging to him. He couldn’t believe—even if the gas was what made Obi-Wan quite so open about it, he couldn’t believe that it would turn him into an entirely different person, or make him want things that would turn his stomach otherwise. Maybe—maybe—
Maybe this wasn’t the only time. Maybe this was only the beginning. Anakin dove in with all the eagerness in the galaxy to share as much pleasure as he could with his Master.
If this was the start of something new, then Anakin wanted to make a good impression.