Title: Crimson (5 of 7)
Author: saisons
Beta Readers: legolad and jenscovia
Rating: Adult
Pairings: Anakin/Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan/other, hints of Anakin/Padmé
Timeframe / Universe: AU set during the Clone Wars after Anakin's knighting, starting with the mission on Ruhe as portrayed in Dark Horse's Free Comic Book Day give-away issue and ending just prior to Cato Neimodia.
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Content, Sadomasochism
Disclaimer: With the exception of J'mee, Lexis, and Ernine, all characters belong to George Lucas. This plot, however, is solely my fault.
Word Count: 2130 this chapter, with approx 24,000 overall.
Status: Complete


CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE


The bar churned around Obi-Wan, a whirlpool of color and sound. Breathing deep, he tried to give himself over to it, to make a meditation of it all, but could not. Remembered sensations played across his mouth, somehow louder than everything else. He drank deep to erase them and found only that Corellian brandy went very well with the taste of Anakin's tongue.

You kiss like a virgin.

Obi-Wan snorted. He downed the last of his drink in a single swallow, his hand as tight upon the glass as it had been upon Anakin's shoulder.

"Can I buy you another?"

Straightening, Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder. A Zeltron stood behind him, her hair swept up into an elaborate knot upon her head. The dance floor pulsed at her back, haloing her slim figure with green, then gold.

He turned away. "I think I've had enough."

"Something else, then?" She leaned against the counter, crossing shapely legs.

Obi-Wan licked his lips, suddenly wishing he had more brandy after all. Her fingers trailed up his arm, an invitation even a fool would have understood. Even a virgin.

"Do you have a room here?" she asked, pulling him up from his seat.

For a moment Obi-Wan could not move, not even with Anakin's words echoing in his head. If Anakin came back, if Anakin found them...

Obi-Wan set his jaw, leading her quickly to the elevators. What did it matter if Anakin found them? After all, lack of experience jeopardized the mission. Even so, Obi-Wan paused outside the suite door. "I have to..."

She smiled tightly. "Wife?"

He did not answer. Instead he checked each room in turn, finding them all silent and dark. Only then did he take her into his own chamber. Moon-glow slipped between the draperies, filling the room with a light that turned her skin a dusky purple. Piece by piece she dropped her clothing, revealing more of it.

Obi-Wan peered at her from the corner of his eye. He removed his shirt, folding and setting it aside, careful to hide his weapon within it.

Naked, she stretched upon the bed. "Do you know what you want?"

He flushed. "Are you a... You're not, are you?"

She laughed lightly. "You've never done this before, have you?"

"With a Zeltron? No."

"With anyone?"

His hands lingered on his belt. "No."

"Then why--"

Obi-Wan swallowed. "I need to know."

"What it's like?"

"Something like that." Finally he released the belt, stepping free of the tangle of clothing and turning toward her.

"You don't want this," she said, spreading her legs. It wasn't a question.

"I--"

Her smile was not unkind. "You could have waited for a man."

He nodded, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"But that would have been betraying him."

Obi-Wan's voice was tight. "Him?"

"Whoever you're in love with."

He could not speak another word. Instead he laid upon the bed, between her thighs. She arched, bringing her legs up around his waist. He closed his eyes, leaning in to kiss her, and felt only Anakin's mouth under his own.

After a moment, Obi-Wan rolled away. Propped up on one elbow, she gazed down at him. Eventually she pressed a kiss to his side, to his belly. Her cheek brushed his sleeping shaft. "You can call his name," she whispered, "if you want."

Obi-Wan's fingers found the back of her head. Even in the moonlight, her lips were the color of rubies. They closed about him, hot and wet, and his hand fell away. He could not hold her. He could only bunch his knuckles at his mouth, biting hard at them in an effort not to call out. It was impossible. The name escaped him once, twice and again, each time louder than the one before. Soon it would be a shriek, a demand for something that even now was beyond his grasp.

All this--it changed nothing. It wasn't pleasure the Jedi railed against, but attachment.

Obi-Wan scrambled away. He stood and threw her clothes at her. "Please, I'm sorry, I can't..."

Her hand drifted over his back. "It's all right. Really it is."

But it wasn't. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He did not look up at her, even when he heard the door click open. He just needed her to go. He needed to sleep. Perhaps with eight good hours or ten--footfall whispered on the carpet. Obi-Wan's head snapped up.

Anakin stood at the foot of the bed. Compared to the Zeltron, his face seemed blanched, almost bloodless.

In the room beyond them, the mimic bird began to cry, its voice a perfect imitation of Obi-Wan's. Again Obi-Wan's hand leapt to his mouth, as if to hold back the sound, but the bird only sang louder, the same words over and over. "Oh, oh Anakin--"

Anakin's eyes widened.

The bird's voice soared, reaching what seemed a peak of bliss, and abruptly fell away.

Obi-Wan seized the bedcovers, jerking them over his body. "It never got that far. I didn't--"

"You called," Anakin choked. "You called my name."

"With everything that's happened, with everything we've--"

"You called my real name."

All at once, in Obi-Wan's mind he saw it clearly: standing in the center of the Council Chambers, his head hung in disgrace. It would only be worse if he did not admit what he had done. And Gods. There was so much.

Obi-Wan's stomach rolled. There was no other choice. "When we get back to Coruscant, I'll--I'll resign."

"You think I want that? Did you honestly think I would have wanted you to hire a--" Anakin groaned, spreading his hands.

"What do you want me to--"

"No! Don't ask that again! You know I can't answer you!" Anakin's voice was thick with pain. He looked away quickly, but not before Obi-Wan saw the wetness in his eyes.

Without thinking, Obi-Wan reached out, taking hold of Anakin's wrist. Anakin sucked in air as if he'd been scalded. His hand twitched, clamping down on Obi-Wan's arm. Slowly Obi-Wan bent to press a kiss to those bare fingers.

"Master," Anakin said once, brokenly.

Obi-Wan stilled.

Anakin fell to his knees. He groaned a second time, his lips an inch from Obi-Wan's throat. "Master," he said again. "Obi-Wan."

Trembling, Obi-Wan tipped back his head. Anakin's bearded mouth trailed over his jugular, his jaw. Then it brushed his, and his own lips parted. Finally they came together, a hesitant slide of tongue against tongue, a shudder coursing through them both.

A question, wordless and unsure, streamed through their bond. Obi-Wan shivered again, even harder now, and spread his knees, pulling Anakin between them. Limbs braided together, they fell back onto the bed. Anakin shoved at the sheet, at his clothes. Obi-Wan gasped at the feeling of flesh on flesh.

Anakin started. "Should I stop?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. His fingers flexed against the mattress. Anakin's shirt lay in a nearby heap; his pants had slid far down his hips. With a single push... Obi-Wan swallowed, taking hold of Anakin's trousers, of the thin band of his underwear. Anakin nodded, rising slightly, and together they eased them off. When he lowered himself again, it was Obi-Wan's turn to groan. Hard, they pressed together, length to length.

Anakin licked his lips. "Do you want me--what should I--"

Obi-Wan shifted his hips, the tiniest of movements, and Anakin clutched at what sheets still remained on the bed. Tentatively Obi-Wan did it again. All at once Anakin was moving too, rocking against him. There was no time for second thoughts, for planning. There was only skin and the heat spiralling out from Obi-Wan's groin. Soon wetness joined warmth, his or Anakin's he could not tell. He didn't care. Obi-Wan rolled his hips faster, clinging to Anakin.

Anakin panted against his mouth. "Do you want me on my back?"

Obi-Wan parted his legs wider, jerked high his knees, the only answer he could give. "Anakin--"

"Gods, I've never--not with a--"

A laugh fluttered high in Obi-Wan's chest. "You think I have?"

Anakin adjusted, a hand between both their legs, urging out more wetness. A single finger slid over Obi-Wan's entrance.

Obi-Wan laughed again, his eyes squeezed shut.

Anakin pushed. Something incoherent tore from Obi-Wan's lips. He uttered it a second time, louder, when Anakin withdrew. Another finger joined the first. In and out--soon Obi-Wan moved with it, his head back. "Please--"

Anakin pulled his hand away. He tilted Obi-Wan's knees yet higher and then he was against him, a nearly unbearable hardness pushing inside. Pain flared and Obi-Wan arched, crying out.

"I'm hurting you--" Anakin pulled back.

Obi-Wan blinked quickly. His vision swam. "Y-yes."

"Do you want me to..."

"Don't stop."

"But--"

"Please." In the darkness, the stone in Obi-Wan's bracelet throbbed with red.

Anakin clenched his jaw. Eyes closed, he thrust again. A sound, almost desperate, leaked out past his teeth. With shaking hands, Obi-Wan took hold of his hips, urging him on.

Awkwardly they found their rhythm. Slowly more wetness bloomed and Obi-Wan sighed. The pain faded, replaced by a need to move quicker, deeper. Every motion brought out a whimper, his or Anakin's, sometimes both. The noises fascinated him, these and the other, the soft slap of skin against skin. He pressed his mouth to Anakin's shoulder, tasting sweat and flesh.

Anakin's lips grazed his ear. "Touch--touch yourself."

Obi-Wan wedged a hand between them. He knew he should be slow, but there was slickness there too, and such sensation. Obi-Wan thrust into his fist. "I won't last--"

"You don't have to." Anakin rocked faster, matching Obi-Wan's pace as best he could. "Very close--"

Just the sound of those words, muttered in his ear--Obi-Wan bucked hard once, impaling himself, and the entire world seemed to dwindle to a single point. He cried out, come spurting between his fingers. It struck Anakin's chest, his belly, and suddenly his lover went rigid, his mouth a perfect and silent O. Obi-Wan felt a surge of heat and cried out again, clutching him.

Anakin's lids fluttered. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was hazy, unfocused. He blinked several times, as if trying to make sense of where he was.

But some things were beyond sense.

Obi-Wan wound his hands in Anakin's hair, bringing Anakin's mouth down on his own.


+++


When Anakin dreamed, he dreamed of Padmé, of her standing at the foot of Obi-Wan's bed in the very place he himself had stood, looking down at their entwined bodies. She was only a shadow, indistinct and motionless, yet she managed to accuse. He awoke gasping, tangled in the sheets, a hand out to her.

Obi-Wan still slept beside him, face down in the pillow, his breathing deep and even. Mouth dry, Anakin touched his shoulder, but Obi-Wan barely stirred. Anakin slid from the bed quietly, gathered up his pants, and padded barefoot from the room. He did not turn on any of the lights.

He crept to his own chamber, taking up the datapad on the nightstand. There was a full communicator here, and he might have used it, but--Anakin ran a hand through his hair, as if she could see its wild tufts.

He could not say these things with mere words on a screen. Anakin turned the datapad on, keying it for voice entry, and stared at the tiny blinking light that meant it was recording. " Padmé, I--"

I never meant...

But he had. He had meant every moment of it.

Anakin set the datapad down and sank into a chair. He peered at his hands, unable to continue. On his wrist, his Moonbow bracelet flickered. Green, it seemed, was the color of guilt.

"I know you love her. You have since you were very young."

Anakin glanced up.

Obi-Wan leaned against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a robe. His mouth was swollen, testament to what they had done. "It must be very hard," he continued hesitantly, "not being able to..." He let the sentence hang.

Anakin's stomach turned.

Obi-Wan stepped closer. "If what we had was pleasure without attachment, I understand."

"Do you?"

Obi-Wan tried to smile. "There's a difference between what I want and what I can have."

Anakin rose. "And if you could?" He could not stop himself from asking it.

Without a word, Obi-Wan took him by the wrist and drew him forward until their bodies met.

Even as he kissed him, Anakin saw the datapad blinking from the corner of his eye. In the morning, he would--

Obi-Wan's robe fell away, abandoned.

Anakin stopped thinking.


(END OF CHAPTER FIVE)