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IV: February 3rd, 2024
Don’t over think a good thing…
Obi-Wan lies silently in the dim light and shivers ever so subtly from the cold despite his sweatshirt, back aching where the thin cushioning of his sleeping bag does not protect him from the rocks beneath their tent. He listens to the wind howling just beyond its polyester walls, watches the way the paper-thin tent trembles and bends against its winds, and not for the first time tonight is reminded why he loves camping so much.
It’s so beautiful, it’s almost easy to forget get everything else…to forget reality, for just a little while…
The mesh covering at the top of the tent offers Obi-Wan a view of the stars dotting the dark sky— he’d been so excited to see the stars again, a city boy through and through, the sight of them still feel like novelty even at 26. Yet he wouldn’t move for a better look at them for anything in the world, not when the body above him feels so warm and solid, when the gentle touch of a hand cupping his face makes him want to shiver and weep in equal measure. Obi-Wan stares up at the shadow-cast face of the young man above him, more beautiful than the stars above them even in the dim light, and takes in every detail he can like time has stopped just for them— has halted itself for this moment of exploratory reverence.
“You drive me crazy,” the words are whispered against his lips, feels them brush against his own parted ones— if you only knew how you make me feel, he thinks but doesn’t dare say.
The silhouette above him is somehow both familiar and foreign to Obi-Wan all at once; a welcome comfort and unique mystery wrapped into a single body. A single man. Laying there in near-total silence apart from his soft, breathy moans. Obi-Wan knows he's probably revealing too much, right then— maybe it’s in his eyes, the way they stare up at the blond above him; maybe it’s in the way his hands grip for purchase on the blond’s shirt, too tightly. Or perhaps it’s the way his hands shake, ever so slightly, in a way that isn’t because of the mountain winds.
Though Obi-Wan guesses it’s more simple than all of that: It’s merely the man above him and the way he smiles down at Obi-Wan with a carefree crook of his full, kiss-bitten lips— the way he cups and strokes his thumb along Obi-Wan’s bare cheek in return, like he’d never seen anyone so beautiful before. As though, for a simple, silly moment he might feel as lucky and underserving of the young man beneath him, as Obi-Wan does of the man above him.
Maybe this swelling and painfully hopeful feeling threatening to burst through Obi-Wan’s chest is simply because of who the man is—
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers the name like a prayer and a plea for salvation all at once, and this close to him, with their noses brushing, the man above him easily catches it.
“I like you, Obi,” Anakin whispers back and for a moment Obi-Wan can pretend he means it, like he wishes away the reality awaiting them beyond their tent— can pretend that he can’t smell the vodka on Anakin’s tongue, and how he knows it spurs him on to say those words.
“I like you too, Ani,” Obi-Wan doesn’t have the excuse of a liquor-loose tongue, but he knows come morning his best friend will forget he ever spoke the words; it hurts him and makes him braver in-turns.
Don’t over think a good thing—
“I really, really like you…” He confesses, but even in his bravery Obi-Wan cannot bring himself to say the three harrowing words he desperately wants to speak to life— even now, knowing Anakin would not remember this moment come morning, the thought of the blond rejecting him scares Obi-Wan enough to stay his tongue.
“I really like you too, baby,” Anakin replies before lowering himself, pressing his body down against Obi-Wan’s and erasing any remaining room between them, claiming the older’s lips once more.
Obi-Wan willingly and almost too eagerly kisses his best friend back, because if he can’t have Anakin’s love, then he can at least have this— sex he can offer, can take…even if every touch and kiss eats away at his heart, just a little more, each time.
Don’t over think a good thing…don’t ruin it—
I’m in love with you, Anakin Skywalker.
II: December 8th, 2023
I feel…happy, it’s an odd feeling Obi-Wan realizes, when something as simple as contentment is often just out of his grasp lately. But sat here, well past midnight surrounded by music and laughter in Quinlan and Ventress’s cramped apartment, Obi-Wan can admit to it in the privacy of his mind. He can even admit that maybe his happiness is in-part due to—
“Want another soda?” Anakin asks from beside him, head ducked enough to catch Obi-Wan’s eye, and he feels captivated by the soft baby blues for a moment.
Don’t overthink—
“Obi-Wan?” The younger blond calls his name after a moment, holding up his own empty beer bottle as though to demonstrate his question.
“Oh, no, thank you,” Obi-Wan quickly replies, eyes flickering down to the man’s grinning mouth, then down again to pretend like he hadn’t just been staring at Skywalker’s lips.
“Be right back,” Anakin says before heaving himself off the cramped couch, taking the hand on Obi-Wan’s thigh with him as he heads into the kitchen— Obi-Wan doesn’t admit, even to himself, that he feels oddly colder without it.
Not missing a beat, Quinlan sinks into Anakin’s place, pressing up against Obi-Wan’s warmed side and slings an arm around his shoulders. Obi-Wan anticipates the question before his best friend asks it, predictable— or maybe it’s simply Vos is shit-eating grin that gives him away.
“So, you and Skywalker?”
“Oh shut it.” Quin raises a brow and Obi-Wan scoffs at the look, if he flushes at the implications of it, neither mention it. “Besides, it’s nothing serious, just some snogging when he’s drunk.”
Obi-Wan ignores the odd bitterness on his tongue at his description of his and Anakin’s—
…Situationship? Friends with benefits? Does it even qualify as any of those things when we haven’t even slept together yet? Do I even want to sleep with him?
Obi-Wan doesn't know the answer to any of his questions, so instead he takes a sip of his dwindling diet soda and lets Quinlan think whatever he wants. They’d only made out at two parties after all, both times Anakin had been drunk and Obi-Wan the closest person available, a guarantee for something easy— it meant nothing, it means nothing.
It’s casual fun and nothing more, don’t over think it, don’t ruin it—
“Move your ass, Vos.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker upwards to see Anakin standing over him and Quinlan, eyebrow raised in expectation, “You took my spot and I will sit on you, don’t think I won’t.”
“Is that a promise, Skywalker?” Quin fires back and Obi-Wan sees his best friend stifling a grin, leave it to Quinlan to stoke whatever antagonistic friendship he and Anakin had.
“You couldn’t handle me,” Anakin scoffs, grinning in victory when Obi-Wan’s friend moves over to allow space for the blond to reclaim his seat beside Obi-Wan.
Anakin’s arm repositions itself around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, the gesture and feeling of it there as easy as breathing, as though it simply belonged there and Obi-Wan didn’t know what to make of the feeling it brought to his chest, so he ignores it. Instead, the 26 year old leans into his friend’s side and listens with half an ear to the conversations taking place around them, and tells himself he isn’t fixating on how nice it feels pressed up against Anakin’s side; how much Obi-Wan loves how much larger the man is than him, and how comforting it is to feel surrounded by him.
“Hey, Obi?” Anakin softly calls out, head ducked down to whisper into Obi-Wan’s ear.
“Hm?” Obi-Wan hums, distracted by a story Rex is telling the room about his travels abroad with his twin.
“Would you…” there’s a moment’s pause, the slightest hesitation that beckons Obi-Wan’s gaze up to meet Anakin’s, finding the man’s baby blues already watching him, “would you wanna come back to my place tonight?”
It would be a lie to say Obi-Wan hadn’t expected this question, that eventually Anakin would want to take things a step further between them than just kissing. The idea of it had excited Obi-Wan, to be wanted by someone as gorgeous and kind as Anakin Skywalker, even if only on an aesthetic level— even if he would never understand what Anakin saw in him. However, the fear stays his tongue. For a moment, Obi-Wan wants to refuse— the thought of sex, to him, seems arduous. Complicated and messy, too much work for so little payoff that only ever makes Obi-Wan feel dirty and used afterwards. Makes him hate himself a little more, something he almost feared experiencing sober.
After Obi-Wan had quit drinking, he’d realized his sexual partners had dwindled to…well, none. It had hit him suddenly and all at once one, random day that he had never had sex sober. The desire to be intimate with someone hadn’t surfaced since he’d quit drinking, and while the idea of it seemed nice, Obi-Wan doesn't think he could do casual sex anymore— much less casual sex sober. The thought of doing so scares him slightly, to be that open and vulnerable without the haze of liquor to dull the sharp edges of reality, to quiet the voices in his head that tell him he is nothing more than a body for someone else is pleasure-- that his pleasure doesn't matter.
Since the question at Anakin's 24th birthday party, and Obi-Wan’s avoidance of accepting his offer, the thought of it had lingered in Obi-Wan’s mind— an exciting fear he would dismiss as an impossibility…or perhaps an improbability. Anakin had a plethora of choices, his classically handsome features alone offered him his choice of partners, but his kindness and warm demeanor promised him more…so why Obi-Wan?
The easy answer is that Obi-Wan is already a half-made promise, a likely possibility that Anakin doesn’t have to try towards, because he’s already halfway there— has been for months now. Just a body to use for an easy, casual fun time. Obi-Wan feels the excuse on the tip of his tongue, despite the worry that Anakin would pull away from him this time, that their casual make outs would end after tonight. He inhales to speak, for Anakin likely end what ever this was between them after he does— only for Anakin to beat him to it.
“Y’know what? Never mind, forget I said anything,” Anakin’s backtracking catches Obi-Wan off guard, more so when he doesn’t sound upset or disappointed— when he doesn’t pull away.
Perhaps it’s an odd reaction, but Obi-Wan feels stunned for a moment when he feels Anakin’s thumb still gently stroking the joint of his shoulder. Obi-Wan stares at the blond's profile for a moment, expecting him to pull away, to huff or maybe backtrack again and press Obi-Wan into accepting the offer. But…he doesn’t, instead Obi-Wan watches Anakin sip at his beer and grin at a joke Satine and Padmé are telling the room.
“I want to,” Obi-Wan says it before he even realizes the words he’s spoken, but once they hit his ears he…doesn’t take them back, in fact, he means them. He expects Anakin to grin, to maybe come closer or kiss him, so of course Anakin Skywalker does the un-fucking-expected.
“Obi-Wan, you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to—”
“But I do,” Obi-Wan isn’t sure why he’s arguing, Anakin has given him an out and Obi-Wan still isn’t sure if he even wants to have sex, but suddenly he wants to say yes.
“Obi, you hesitated,” Anakin huffs, but it’s a soft sound, softer still with the smile Anakin gives him, “if you really wanted to, you wouldn’t have hesitated.”
You noticed that? Is all Obi-Wan can think, but more to the point, you cared about that?
Obi-Wan isn’t sure why swallowing is suddenly a struggle for him, only that it is. So instead he takes Anakin’s hand in his, pausing a moment to enjoy the warm feel of it, and says, “Anakin, I want to go home with you.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t know if it’s because Anakin had picked up on his hesitation, had shown rather than said Obi-Wan’s refusal of his offer meant nothing between them has changed— because that’s what it was, a genuine offer he could say no to without repercussion; without coldness from Anakin as a friend. Or if because Anakin is still holding him, despite taking back the offer, but either way Obi-Wan feels more confident in his reply. Somehow knowing in his heart of hearts, that even if things didn’t work out, he wouldn’t lose a friend because Anakin was and is his friend first and foremost, and this only proved it, didn’t it?
“Are you sure?” No one had ever asked Obi-Wan that before, had pushed back when he hesitated and felt too consumed with insecurity to refuse an offer at being wanted, even if only for one night.
The question makes Obi-Wan’s decision for him, “yes, I’m sure.”
The rest of the evening feels like a blur from there, but through it all Obi-Wan doesn’t regret agreeing to Anakin’s offer; he enjoys the rest of the night with their friends, and still feels confident in his decision hours later, holding Anakin’s hand as they walk up to his apartment. Obi-Wan isn’t sure what he expects, his measure for sex is all wrong— there’s no drunken stumbling, no fumbling hands and uncoordinated kisses. It’s quiet, almost too silent but despite it Obi-Wan…doesn’t feel nervous. A part of him knows, with a strange confidence that if he were to change his mind right now, Anakin wouldn’t hold it against him— wouldn’t be bitter or angry with him, despite them coming this far.
So when Obi-Wan enters Anakin’s small studio, a place he has been to a few times before tonight, he reminds himself to breathe— that he can say no, and it would all be okay. That he would be listened to. He hears Anakin slip into the restroom behind him as he kicks off his shoes, and makes his way deeper into the small home. Having a moment alone, Obi-Wan is surprised to find he doesn’t regret being here, doesn’t regret what being here means even without Anakin's presence.
If this is the first time I’m going to have sex in over five bloody years, I want to fucking enjoy it too, Obi-Wan thinks - promises himself - as he shucks off his shirt, meeting his mirrored gaze in Anakin’s dresser mirror. So I have to be honest and he can…he can take it or leave it.
“Tonight was fun, though I gotta say Vos got a bit more wild than normal,” Anakin says, breaking the silence as he comes up behind Obi-Wan, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “at least Ventress put him to bed.”
“To be fair,” Obi-Wan starts as he leans into Anakin’s larger frame, though when Anakin wraps his arms around Obi-Wan's waist he expects to feel trapped by the gesture, maybe even pressured by it, but instead feels…oddly safe.
The realization surprises him, maybe more than it should.
“It is their apartment,” Obi-Wan manages to continue, eyes now lingering on the lithe arms around him, “if you’re going to get sloshed anywhere, it’s your own home.”
Anakin chuckles and Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker up to track his smile, lingering on the man’s dimpled cheek, “that is true.”
It’s now or never, Kenobi.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s throat feels dry, his embarrassment and old insecurities welling up and pleading with him to shut up but…he can’t, not this time. “You should know, I…I haven’t had sex in a while.”
Anakin ducks his head down to press a gentle kiss to his temple, “that’s okay—”
“For over five years, to be specific,” Obi-Wan cuts in, needing Anakin to understand, “not since I quit drinking, to be more specific.”
At that Anakin stills and Obi-Wan breathes a little easier for it, finally getting some semblance of a reaction he expects, though of course Anakin mucks it up by asking, “we don’t have to, Obi, we can just sleep—”
“No! No, I…I do want to, Anakin,” Obi-Wan quickly cuts in, turning around in Anakin’s arms to meet the man’s gaze, “I do I just…I only ever had sex drunk before and…I honestly don’t know how…how good at it I’ll be so I…I need you to be honest with me; tell me what feels good? What to do?”
Anakin reaches a hand up to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek and he instantly leans into the warm touch, though his eyes remain locked with Anakin’s, “only if you tell me what feels good for you, okay? I like knowing my partner feels good, too.”
Obi-Wan can’t help but chuckle at that, flushing, “deal.”
“Good boy,” Obi-Wan feels a shiver roll up his spine at the praise and when Anakin’s smile curls into a sharper grin, Obi-Wan feels his face burn. “Oh we are so exploring that.”
“I would like that,” Obi-Wan reaches up to wrap his arms around Anakin’s shoulders, “kiss me?”
“Gladly,” Anakin purrs, leaning down to press his lips against Obi-Wan’s, and Obi-Wan readily parts his lips for him.
He doesn’t think about the way his heart flips when Anakin lays him down atop his bedsheets, instead he focuses on the safety he feels found within every one of Anakin’s touches; the swooping swell of lust in his belly when Anakin praises and kisses him in turn, and doesn’t take this for more than what it is— casual fun with a friend.
Don’t over think it, just enjoy it…don’t ruin a good thing.
I: August 22nd, 2023
The music pulses in the 25 year old’s ears, louder than he usually prefers, but the deep bass vibrates in his skin and around his friends Obi-Wan feels less self-conscious than he otherwise would dancing as he is. Letting loose on a weekend afternoon after weeks of job searching, Obi-Wan allows himself to enjoy goofing off, giving into the sway of bodies around him under the cover of the club’s dark blue mood lighting.
They were at their second club of the night, after a long and hefty brunch for Cody’s birthday, the gang split off and reconvened at a hotel club to dance the rest of the night away. Though unlike the rest, Obi-Wan is stone cold sober.
At first his friends had been hesitant to drink around him, worried they were being cruel or simply inconsiderate to drink around someone who had given it up, but after over five years of sobriety they knew Obi-Wan never thought ill of them for it; his alcoholism wasn’t their burden to bear, and he’d learned how to have fun without drinking. Plus, he could make sure they all got home okay, and if they dubbed him Mother Hen for it, well, it was a title he wore with - begrudging - pride.
It didn’t hurt that Obi-Wan rather enjoyed watching his friends get drunk while he didn’t, in a strange way it gave him permission to act as wild and loose as they would without the fear of blacking out. Like now, with his back pressed up against his friend, both swaying and dancing to the music around them.
“I like how you move,” Anakin raises his voice to be heard above the din of clubbers and bass-heavy music, head ducked down to make up for the inches of height between them, speaking the words into the side of Obi-Wan’s neck just below his ear.
Obi-Wan feels his heart flutter a little at the compliment, unexpected as it is, and fumbles for an answer, “I like how you move!”
Yes, in moments like these Obi-Wan is grateful his friends were drunk enough to overlook his awkward fumbling— for someone so confident in polite conversation, he never knows how to take a damn compliment.
He hears Anakin laugh, the arms wrapped around his waist tightening as the 23 year old buries his face into the side of Obi-Wan’s neck, and he can’t help the smile that stretches his lips into a near-painful grin. It was a well-kept secret, but Obi-Wan adores hearing Anakin laugh, loves it even— and more so, he loves being the cause of it. Anakin Skywalker was made to smile and laugh, he had to be, because no one before him simply lit up the way his friend did.
“I like dancing with you,” Anakin says as he grinds his hips against Obi-Wan’s ass, and never one to be shy in the face of flirtation, Obi-Wan reaches up to bury his hands in the man’s sandy locks, grinding back against him in response.
“Is this okay?” Anakin asks, hands traveling from Obi-Wan’s waist to his hips, speaking the question against the crook of his neck, and Obi-Wan tips his head to allow him better access.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies with a grin, biting his lip at the strangely wholesome question, “and I like dancing with you, too, Ani.”
They continue to move to the music, Anakin pressed up tightly against Obi-Wan’s back while the shorter of the two rolls and grinds his hips against the blond’s. At times they would part, their dirty grinding turning into a goofy back and forth on the dance floor, but throughout Anakin would be smiling, would be laughing and Obi-Wan was helpless but to join in. Though despite himself, he keeps thinking about Anakin’s question, of him asking for permission to dance with Obi-Wan where others had and would simply assume and take liberties; it warmed some part of him Obi-Wan he hadn’t thought to look at within his chest, hadn’t even known had grown cold and calloused over the years.
When the music slows and grows more sultry, Anakin reels Obi-Wan in once more, holding them chest to chest close enough for Obi-Wan to feel the hot fan of his breath across his face. The strawberry-blond wraps his arms around Anakin’s neck, moving to the music as the fingers of his right hand run through the soft curls at the base of Anakin’s neck. This close he can see the intent on his friend’s face, the way his hazy gaze grows considering under the length of his lashes, and Obi-Wan already feels himself agreeing before Anakin leans in and presses their lips together.
Though unexpectedly, the blond pulls back after the soft but chaste kiss and asks, “is this okay?”
Obi-Wan feels himself smile at the question, somehow innately knowing that if he said no, despite kissing back, that Anakin would accept his words and pull away. He knew, without doubt that there would be no consequence to refusing, no bitter coldness from Anakin— that if he said no, they would simply continue dancing, continue having fun. He isn’t sure how he knows, only that something in Anakin’s eyes promises it, and it’s knowing that which makes Obi-Wan lean in.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, lips brushing against Anakin’s, “it’s very, very okay.”
It’s just a kiss, Obi-Wan tells himself as he parts his lips, shivering at the warm heat of Anakin’s tongue against his, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just fun…don’t over think it.
III: January 7th, 2024
I shouldn’t be isolating, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, but despite what he knows he should do, the thought of uncurling from beneath his blanket feels like a harrowing one, nearly enough to make him cry.
I should call Quin, but he knows he won’t pick up the phone to do it, convinced it would be cruel to expose his best friend to him at his worst.
I…I think I need to cry, he wishes for the relief but knows it won’t come, if only things were so easy, maybe he wouldn’t be as…tired as he felt.
I need to sleep, and he’s tried but sleep and Obi-Wan were fair-weather friends in episodes like these, and try as he might, his brain refuses to let him escape his spiraling thoughts.
I want to disappear, I—
Obi-Wan hears his phone vibrate on his bedside table, watches the device tremble and spasm on the wooden tabletop again, and again and again— his hair-thin patience snaps, overwhelmed with frustration Obi-Wan throws his hand out and snatches up the phone. He feels tears prick the corners of his eyes. He intends to silence it, maybe even turn it off for the remainder of the long weekend, only for a new text to buzz through, and this time the text notification’s owner to catch his eye—
“Anakin?” He rasps, voice breaking through the pin-drop silence of his studio apartment, and as though hearing his name the man in question sends another text.
For a moment Obi-Wan hesitates, but his curiosity outweighs the tiredness laying heavily atop him, and despite himself he unlocks the device. He and Anakin have been texting…a lot, since they’d slept together last month, near-daily. Obi-Wan often finds himself looking forward to hearing from his friend - best friend? - and if Anakin doesn’t text first, Obi-Wan does, which is an odd thing when Obi-Wan isn’t really a texter— Quinlan took great delight in pointing that out, but…Anakin enjoyed texting him, or so he said, and who was Obi-Wan to refuse him when he enjoyed speaking to Anakin just as much?
(If not more? Though this, he refuses to admit to.)
Anakin S. - 9:34pm: hey i just thunk a thought
Anakin S. - 9:34pm: worrying i know
Anakin S. - 9:35pm: but what if you came over for the weekened?
Anakin S. - 9:35pm: weekend*
Anakin S. - 9:35pm: i know you said you wanted to spend it alone
Anakin S. - 9:36pm: but what if we spent it alone…together?
Anakin S. - 9:37pm: am i doing too much?
Anakin S. - 9:37pm: babe now i’m insecure, answer meeeeeee ಥ _ ಥ
Obi-Wan stares at the barrage of text messages and…laughs, the sound jumps out of him before he can contain it, trembling through him with a joviality he hasn’t felt in the past week. Sometimes Obi-Wan wonders if Anakin knows just how easily he brings these surreal moments of…content relief, dare he even admit, happiness out in Obi-Wan without even trying.
However, Obi-Wan still hesitates to reply, even as he stares at the texts with a wide, embarrassed smile, Obi-Wan is trying to come up with a response— an excuse. Despite how much he would like to see Anakin, he knows he isn’t…the greatest company at the moment, and no matter how kind Anakin is— no one wants to be around a depressed lump all weekend.
Before Obi-Wan can compose an appropriate excuse, his phone lights up and vibrates anew because Anakin is calling him, the impatient imp that he is. He feels at a loss for what to do, though the small part of Obi-Wan that actually wants to hear his best friend’s voice wins out, and he answers the call despite knowing he really, really shouldn’t.
“Hello,” Obi-Wan answers, but quickly follows up before Anakin can speak with, “I was texting you back, I’m a slow texter, you know this.”
“I know you are, but I wanted to hear your voice,” Obi-Wan will go to his grave with the secret that, right then, his face flushes a mortifying shade of red. “So, what do you think?”
“What do I think of what?” Obi-Wan asks, turning onto his other side under the covers of his bed, wondering if he should at least turn on his bedside lamp, but his eyes have adjusted to the dark and he doesn’t want to move.
“About coming over,” Anakin answers easily, “and spending the weekend at my place?”
Obi-Wan remains silent, worrying at his lower lip for what to say. On one hand he’d been looking forward to this weekend as an escape from social duties to recharge, hoping the time alone would chase away his depression by forcing himself to partake in hobbies and self-care. On the other hand—
I haven’t moved from bed all day, Obi-Wan admits to himself with a soft sigh of defeat, and I honestly don’t think I’ll be moving tomorrow, either.
Anakin must catch his sigh, though not the reason behind it because he says, “don’t feel forced, Obi, I just…I don’t know, I don’t want you being alone when you’re not in a good place, y’know? But…I mean if you need the time alone to then I get it I just— thought I’d offer. I love having you around, so it’s even a little selfish on my end, honestly. And the door’s open, all weekend…any day, really, if you want it.”
“Ani I…I don’t think I’d make great company right now,” it’s a weak refusal, Obi-Wan knows, and some part of him acknowledges that he says it more in warning than to refute the offer outright— it’s the same part of him that made him answer Anakin’s call in the first place.
“You’re always great company, Obi-Wan,” Obi-Wan can hear the smile in Anakin’s voice as he speaks, closing his eyes, he can picture the dimpled smile that goes with it, “because it’s you.”
Something about that makes Obi-Wan’s throat close up, makes his eyes burn and he tries to blink the feeling away, clears his throat as the silence stretches between them— but like with so many of Anakin’s offers, Obi-Wan’s decision is quickly and easily made.
“Give me 30 minutes to get ready? I…I should reach within the hour,” it’s a feat alone to sit up, but somehow - likely bolstered by Anakin’s whoop! of joy - Obi-Wan manages it.
“See you soon.”
“See you soon, Ani.”
Obi-Wan stares down at his phone for a moment, feeling his eyes well up with something other than sadness for the first time in days, and wonders how he’d gotten lucky enough to call Anakin Skywalker a friend— a best friend, even. Obi-Wan ignores the way his heart flips with anticipation as he goes around packing up his things, and tells himself the too-wide smile that pulls at his lips each time Anakin texts him as he packs up is nothing more than a fondness for how much his friend cares about him.
Don’t over think a good thing…he’s just a friend.
V: February 14th, 2024
Obi-Wan stands outside the restaurant entry way, heart fluttering in his chest in a mix of anxiety and anticipation. It’s a handful of steps to the door, but his legs won’t move, feeling both light enough to flee and heavy enough he can’t imagine taking another step. Instead he runs his hands down the front of his black suit pants, willing away the tremor in them and prays for his sweatiness to at least ebb, worried he’ll get pit stains that his cornflower dress shirt will do nothing to hide.
It’s just a dinner, a dinner with…someone I’m ‘seeing,’ the thought is less helpful than Obi-Wan had hoped it would be, the new title to…whatever he and Anakin were only serving to give him a level of hope he’s too scared to fully admit to— a title Anakin had given the not long ago.
He still thinks about that moment, stood in Anakin’s arms as they kissed goodbye by his front door, falling over his words on how to describe them when Anakin, as easy as breathing, laughed and said, “we’re seeing each other, Obi, lets just be honest about it.” Obi-Wan had eagerly jumped on the title, on the intimacy it had offered, even if looking back now the label felt like it hardly scratched the surface of what Obi-Wan was - is - feeling. Anakin had even admitted to having a crush on him over text not a handful of weeks later, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but confess the same— even if ‘crush’ still felt woefully inadequate for the way his best friend made him feel.
He said we’re ‘seeing each other,’ that he has a crush on me, likes me…all that means something, right?
Obi-Wan groans, burying his face in his hands, Anakin said I’m ‘emotionally mature’ but Christ almighty I feel like a dunce right now…
Obi-Wan has never dated before, a choice he had never regretted…until now. Now he has no idea how to proceed with Anakin, where the lines in the sand were on something that had begun with a simple, casual kiss in a nightclub. He had casually slept around, yes, but never with the same person twice— never frequently enough to call them a ‘Friend with Benefits,’ and feels himself floundering for what is appropriate and what would boarder too much. Because Obi-Wan feels too much for Anakin, that he knows without a doubt, but are all these messy, addictive emotions the coveted ‘love’ everyone talks about? Or is it simple like?
Is there even a difference?
In the last few weeks he and Anakin had opened up to each other, had laid out more of their hearts for the other to see and prod at, though not as much as Obi-Wan had secretly hoped they would. Somehow, they’ve become more vulnerable to each other, while still tiptoeing around whatever they were now. They weren’t dating, but they weren’t ‘just friends’ anymore, either. The new level of their…Situationship - is it still a ‘Situationship’? - feels surreal to Obi-Wan, and he constantly has to remind himself—
Don’t over think a good thing.
Obi-Wan moves away from the entrance of the restaurant and leans against a nearby wall, trying to steady his breathing. It’s foolish he knows, Anakin had invited him to this dinner, after all; had even been the one to make the reservations at an Italian restaurant, simply because Obi-Wan made an offhand comment about liking Italian.
That meant something, didn’t it? That Anakin would go out of his way for a Valentine’s dinner when he didn’t have to, when what they had was…something, sure, but not something significant enough to go this far, right? Unless Anakin actually—
No, no! Do not hinge hope on a Goddamn Friends with Benefits situation, Obi-Wan reprimands himself, that’ll only end in a bloody car crash, Kenobi!
Some days Obi-Wan wonders if there is more to Anakin’s kind and thoughtful demeanor, if it all meant something beyond simply wanting to fuck Obi-Wan. Anakin was a catch, after all, and Obi-Wan lived in perpetual fear that Anakin would leave him behind at some point— that he would eventually grow tired of Obi-Wan and move on to someone better, someone more worthy of his attentions.
“I can do this,” Obi-Wan whispers to himself, running a careful hand through his hair, as though he hadn’t painstakingly styled it that afternoon, “I can do this, I can— fuck, I need to call Quin.”
Obi-Wan reaches into his front pocket for his cellphone and presses the device up to his ear the moment he selects Quinlan’s name, a hushed prayer on his lips for his best friend to pick up—
“ How’s the date going— ”
“It’s not a date,” Obi-Wan quickly interjects, despite how desperately he wishes tonight were a date.
“Obi, the boy invited you to a Goddamn restaurant in a hotel, it’s a date, even a bat can see that,” Quinlan scoffs, but when Obi-Wan can’t find it in himself to refute the statement, his friend’s voice softens. “Why are you really calling?”
“I’m freaking out, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan hates how much his voice shakes, and despite trying to will away his anxiety, it only seems to redouble. “I— fuck, Quin, I think I’m in love with him. No, no I know I am…there’s no other way to explain all these…feelings and— God, I’m freaking out.”
“And that’s not a good thing? Not the ‘freaking out’ part, I mean the ‘love’ part,” Quinlan’s voice is steady, non-judgmental if slightly teasing, and for the life of him Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it makes him so abruptly angry.
“No, it isn’t a ‘good thing,’ Vos!” Obi-Wan hisses, genuinely worried he may throttle his best friend the next time he sees him, “this is going to be a bloody disaster, Quin!”
“Obi, breathe, you’re overthinking again,” for as much as Obi-Wan wants to scream at his friend right then he knows he’s right, so he bites his tongue and counts his breaths before speaking.
“I…fuck, Quin what if I’m reading too much into all this?” Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder towards the restaurant entryway, hunching his shoulders and softening his voice further when a member of staff shoots him a confused, if slightly worried look. “What if he…what if he doesn’t feel the same?”
“Obi, do you hear yourself right now?”
“Yes, yes I know I sound like a child—”
“No, you moron,” Quinlan cuts in, but continues before Obi-Wan can fire back at the insult, “right now you sound emotionally vulnerable, for the first time in your whole life, you sound like you’re talking from your heart…and yeah, that’s a terrifying place to be, but also— well, shit, Obi, I’m proud of you.”
Quinlan’s words catch Obi-Wan off guard, make his panicked thoughts halt in their tracks in utter bafflement, “I…I’ve been emotionally vulnerable—”
“To friends, yeah, but in the over two decades we’ve known each other, never once have I ever heard you say that you’re ‘in love.’”
Obi-Wan hates to admit it but…Quinlan has known Obi-Wan since they were in nappies together, and knows his best friend is right— Obi-Wan has never been in love before, never like this. For all their lives it was Obi-Wan answering Quinlan’s calls, sharing words of encouragement minutes before his best friend would go off on another date; it was Obi-Wan who would sit at home, waiting to hear back from his friend while hoping for the best, and would be there to pick him back up if the sorry sod couldn’t see how amazing his best friend was. However, all their lives it was Quinlan putting his heart on the line while Obi-Wan watched from the sidelines, happy to remain alone despite his loneliness, and it suddenly strikes him that tonight the reverse is happening.
“So you love him, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
Something about his realization and Quinlan’s words makes Obi-Wan laugh, a surprised if pained bark of a thing, because he can now recall saying the exact same words to Quinlan in the past.
“I could name a few.”
“No, the ‘worst thing’ is he doesn’t love you back, Obi,” the idea makes Obi-Wan’s heart lurch and clench, but somehow it eases his fear too— if he doesn’t love me…I know he still likes me, he said as much, still calls himself my 'best friend.'
“Besides, with the way you talk about how Anakin treats you like - for lack of a better phrasing, but no less true - a fuckin’ Princess, I don’t think that’s true.” Obi-Wan flushes at his best friend’s words, but can’t find it in himself to refute them— for as undeserving of Anakin’s attentions as Obi-Wan may feel, he’d never take the blond’s kind and thoughtful actions away from him.
“Worst case he doesn’t love you back, but Obi, I don’t think that really matters— like I said, for the first fucking time in your life, you are in love and nothing can take that away from you, ” Quin’s words make Obi-Wan’s throat tighten, the sincerity behind them making his eyes burn, and Obi-Wan finds himself having to fight past a wet gasp to speak.
“Don’t be silly, it’s just…just feelings—”
“Yeah, feelings you never let yourself feel before, that - intentionally or not - you shielded yourself from, and yet somehow Skywalker still managed to get past them,” Obi-Wan can hear the smile in his best friend’s voice, knows that despite his laissez-faire tone, Quinlan means everything he’s saying and if Obi-Wan could, he’d hug him right now.
“You love him, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan says the words as an undeniable fact, and hearing it said so confidently eases Obi-Wan’s anxiety.
“I do, I really, really do.”
“Then tell him.”
“Even if he doesn’t love me back?”
“Even if he doesn’t...but he’d be crazy not to.”
Obi-Wan swallows down the last of his nerves, straightening his shoulders he breathes a deep sigh and nods to himself, “thank you, Quin.”
“Anytime, Obi. Good luck.”
Obi-Wan ends the call and tucks away his phone, turning back towards the restaurant and this time takes a step towards the entrance.
“Reservation?” The Maître d' asks, greeting him at the door.
“Table for two, under ‘Skywalker’?” Obi-Wan feels relieved that his voice no longer shakes, even if the palms of his hands feel damp.
The woman looks down at her tablet then smiles, “your partner is already here, please, follow me.”
He’s been here the whole time? Something about that knowledge eats away at Obi-Wan’s anxiety, he’d gotten to the restaurant before their reservations, but Anakin had come earlier and that…it makes Obi-Wan smile, almost painfully wide.
Even with his heart pounding in his throat as he follows behind the Maître d', with anxiety and joy lashing around in his chest like a wild serpent, Obi-Wan no longer feels scared. If anything, he feels hopeful and for the first time in weeks that hopefulness doesn’t make his chest ache, it doesn’t scare him. Seeing Anakin sat at a table, dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt, Obi-Wan feels his heart swell; the tattoo-tempo of his heart beats redoubling when the blond looks up and smiles at him.
“You made it,” Anakin says, almost as though sighing in relief as he speaks, and Obi-Wan can’t help but smile in return— feels himself fully settle, knowing he wasn’t the only one nervous about tonight.
“Of course I did,” Obi-Wan answers as the Maître d' walks away, stepping in to hug his best friend, the man he’s ‘seeing’ and melts into his arms. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week.”
“Me too,” Anakin replies, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “you look beautiful, by the way.”
Obi-Wan feels himself flush as he always does when Anakin compliments him, but this time he doesn’t try to argue it, “you look beautiful, too.”
“I hope you’re hungry,” Anakin says, stepping back to pull out Obi-Wan’s seat for him, "it's a full course meal."
“Starved,” Obi-Wan replies, taking his seat he reaches out for Anakin’s hand across the table when the man reclaims his own, heart fluttering when the blond grasps his without hesitation.
Obi-Wan watches Anakin for a moment, feeling silly and foolish and so enamored by the man sat across from him, beautiful as he is, inside and out. Maybe they won’t last, maybe tonight’s the night it all falls apart, or maybe that day will be in weeks, months or even years from now. However, the thought of this ending no longer scares Obi-Wan, not when his fears are outweighed by the sheer happiness Anakin brings out in him.
Don’t overthink a good thing…just enjoy it while you have it.
Regardless of tonight’s outcome, Obi-Wan knows one thing that he will always remember, and never, ever regret: I love you, Anakin Skywalker.
+I: January 21st, 2024
“Babe, where should I put the spoons?” Obi-Wan asks, rinsing the last of the dish soap off his hands along with the suds still clinging on to the handle of said spoon, only to smile when he feels familiar arms encircle his waist, and hums at the soft press of lips against the side of his neck.
“You really didn’t have to do my dishes,” Anakin says once again, taking the wet spoon from Obi-Wan’s hands and placing it onto the drying rack.
“I know, but I wanted to,” Obi-Wan replies, reaching for the dishtowel to dry his hands, “needed to let off some energy.”
“Oh yeah?” Anakin presses another kiss onto his neck, and another one below it, “I can think of a few ways we can do that.”
Obi-Wan feels himself flush slightly at the implication behind his words, and unlike the first time they slept together, it doesn’t make him nervous, “oh? And what did you have in mind?”
Anakin spins Obi-Wan around in his arms and presses him up against his front, held flush against his friend, he feels the younger man’s growing erection at the front of his jeans, “down for another round?”
“You’re insatiable,” Obi-Wan teases, reaching up to loop his arms around Anakin’s neck, and leans in closer despite his words to press a kiss to the man’s lips.
“You love it,” Anakin chuckles against Obi-Wan’s pursed lips, only to deepen their kiss the moment Obi-Wan’s part in rebuttal.
Obi-Wan hums softly at the feeling of Anakin’s lips against his own, the hands around his neck travelling upward to bury themselves into the blond’s thick mane and tugging slightly. He feels his eyes slip shut as Anakin leans into him, tongue rubbing along Obi-Wan’s as he lazily grinds their hips together. Anakin treats Obi-Wan with a soft reverence whenever they begin to kiss, each touch a comfort, every soft inhale and kiss a plea for more that the other readily answers.
It’s Anakin who pulls away first, but the blond doesn’t stray far, only pulling back enough to reach for the backs of Obi-Wan’s thighs and lifts him up. Just as he does every time before, since Anakin discovered his love of carrying Obi-Wan, the shorter of the duo yelps and clings onto his best friend before breaking out into giggles.
“You really need to start giving me a warning, at least!” Obi-Wan admonishes, but knows his words are undercut by the smile tugging at his kiss-bitten lips.
“And deprive myself of your adorable squeals? You wish,” Anakin playfully scoffs before pecking Obi-Wan on the lips, walking them over to the bed tucked away in the corner of his quaint studio.
“You’re so mean to me, I swear I have no idea why I even come over here when all you do is bully me,” Obi-Wan pouts, even as he strips himself of Anakin’s sweatshirt the moment the blond lays him down on the bed.
“Because I make you laugh,” Anakin grins, stripping himself of his own shirt before crawling over Obi-Wan, “and I make you feel really, really good…”
“How good?” Obi-Wan asks, though he tries to sound teasing, his words come out far more breathless than he’d meant for them to.
“Why don’t I just show you?” Anakin offers, he always offers and something about that drives Obi-Wan insane in the best ways, makes his heart pound and all but beg Anakin for more.
Anakin latches onto his left nipple, still puffy and sore from their morning together, but the pain sends a tingling thrill down Obi-Wan’s spine and he arches up unto the blond above him for it. Obi-Wan can’t help but watch Anakin, drinking in the fan of his lashes atop the apples of his cheeks, the way his lips pucker as he sucks and nibbles at Obi-Wan’s nipples. Groaning when he brushes the flat of his tongue against the abused bud only to latch onto the skin beside it, marking Obi-Wan - again - and staking his claim on him. Obi-Wan throws his head back when Anakin rubs the heel of his palm against Obi-Wan’s growing erection, the touch is unexpected but not unwelcome, and he bucks into the steady pressure.
“Anakin, please—oh fuck!” Anakin hums at Obi-Wan’s pleas, lips and teeth now worrying at his right nipple, and Obi-Wan knows they’ll be sore for the rest of the night and into tomorrow, knows that even a shirt will remind him of this very moment and he looks forward to it.
Obi-Wan had known he had kinks, but until him and Anakin began sleeping together they were all theoretical, never trusting anyone enough to explore them…before now— the most surprising of them all was his marking and pain kinks, which Anakin happily obliges to, even getting off on peppering Obi-Wan’s clear skin with stinging love bites.
“What do you want, baby?” Anakin’s question comes out rasped, a breathy baritone that rakes across Obi-Wan’s skin and makes him shiver, eyes catching on the dark look the blond sets on him. “Be a good boy and tell me what you want.”
“I-I want to feel you, please— oh shit! Ani, please, please fuck me,” Obi-Wan begs and the blond grins at him, sitting up to pull Obi-Wan’s shorts down and off his legs.
“Good boy.”
Oh, and Anakin really indulges his praise kink.
Shucking off his own boxers Anakin nudges at Obi-Wan’s hips to turn over, which he readily does, bowing his back down towards the bed and spreads his legs, waiting with baited breath while Anakin reaches into his bedside drawer for a condom and lube. Obi-Wan knows it won’t take long to prep him, not with the sex they’d had barely a handful of hours earlier, but the anticipation already has him more than ready— has him impatient, even.
In moments like these Obi-Wan feels taken aback at how much he enjoys sex, how something he was once dismissed and felt anxiety over, now makes his heart pound and cock jolt in anticipation. Sometimes he wonders if it’s the lack of sex for over half a decade catching up with him, but when he feels Anakin’s thick fingers breach and stretch him, he wonders how much of his insatiableness is purely because it’s Anakin.
“You look so fucking sexy like this, Obi,” Anakin says, never one to keep his thoughts from Obi-Wan and it drives him wild, “moaning for me, so desperate to get fucked because you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?”
“Yes, yes, Anakin— yours, only yours,” Obi-Wan feels the words come out more weighted than they had before, heavier with a meaning he’s too lost in the throes of pleasure to fully comprehend.
“All mine,” Anakin groans as he replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock and Obi-Wan moans at the intrusion, feels the delicious stretch and burn at his rim giving way for Anakin's thick length.
By the time Anakin bottoms out, Obi-Wan’s arms have given out and he turns his head to the side to breathe, gripping at the bedsheets as Anakin begins to pound relentlessly into him. He knows he won’t last long, can’t when Anakin angles himself just right and fucks into Obi-Wan with brutal precision.
“Ah! Oh— oh fuck, Anakin!” Obi-Wan hears the bed frame shake, feels only slightly embarrassed as it hits into the wall, but feels far too good to fully worry what the neighbors might hear. “R-Right there, right— fuck!”
“So good for me— fuck, so tight, even after I fucked you this morning, you’re still so tight around me, Obi," Anakin moans, gripping his hips with bruising strength as the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room along side their moans. "So goddamn perfect for my cock, aren’t you?”
Obi-Wan can do nothing more than moan, words lost to him and hopes Anakin knows he agrees, whining when Anakin slaps the meat of his ass on a particularly rough thrust that makes Obi-Wan’s cock jolt and drool with precum. He feels his muscles burn, his knuckles aching with how tightly he clutches at the bedsheets, and spares a thought that he’ll have to help Anakin with another load of laundry before the day is over. Obi-Wan bites at his lower lip to stifle a moan when Anakin’s rutting grows more wild and stuttered, groaning at the feeling of a firm grip close around his shaft, stroke in-time with Anakin's thrusts.
“Cum for me baby,” Anakin whispers into his ear, bowed over Obi-Wan’s back close enough for him to feel the sweat on his chest wet the skin between Obi-Wan’s shoulder blades. “Wanna hear you cum for me.”
Obi-Wan feels his orgasm building from the base of his spine and low in his gut to the top of his scalp, and never one to miss an opening Anakin uses his free hand to grip a fistful of Obi-Wan’s hair and pull. The delicious mix of pain and pleasure is enough to push Obi-Wan over the edge, make him gasp and moan while his body shakes apart. He feels his cock jump and pulsate in Anakin’s fist, cum no doubt leaking onto the bed and down his best friend’s knuckles.
Through his release Anakin continues fucking into Obi-Wan, his moans interspersed with praise and words of claim that make Obi-Wan all but purr.
“Wanna cum on your face,” Anakin grunts, the slapping of skin mixing in with his moans into a melody that makes Obi-Wan delirious, “can I, baby?”
Obi-Wan nods, the thought of it enough to turn him on and make his cock give a valiant jerk, “y-yeah, I wan’ that.”
Anakin slows his hips before slowly pulling out of Obi-Wan, discarding the condom somewhere over the edge of the bed, and Obi-Wan spares a hysterical thought over one of them slipping on it as he turns to lay down on his back. Anakin is quick to move, straddling his chest as his fist works in a blur over his cock, just as Obi-Wan stretches out his tongue. He opens his eyes to watch Anakin, taking in his parted lips and hazy blue eyes that stare down at Obi-Wan, and tastes the teasing salty bitterness of precum where the slit of his cock touches the tip of Obi-Wan's tongue. It isn't long before Anakin groans a warning and Obi-Wan feels the wet heat of Anakin’s release paint the flat of his tongue, the bridge of his nose and even land on his eyelashes, though thankfully he’d thought to close his eyes beforehand.
“Fuck how are you so fuckin’ sexy?” Anakin huffs and Obi-Wan opens his left eye, ensuring he keeps the right closed, and looks up at the blond, taking in his flushed skin and sweaty hair— how are you so gorgeous?
“You make me sexy,” is all Obi-Wan can think to say and Anakin groans, leaning down to press a kiss to his bruised lips, despite the mess still marking them.
Obi-Wan happily kisses him back for a few content moments, enjoying the afterglow until he feels Anakin’s spend sliding down his cheek like a tear, and pulls away enough to gesture at his face, “give me a moment, I need to…y’know, all this.”
“Oh, shit, right!” Anakin quickly backs away but the look of embarrassment stills Obi-Wan from getting up, no matter how ridiculous he must look, he feels the need to say—
“Hey, I really liked that, all of it— it was fun, it felt good,” Obi-Wan reassures and for the first time Anakin looks a little sheepish, and something about that makes Obi-Wan’s heart flip.
“Even the…y’know, cumming on your face thing?” Anakin asks, running a hand through his hair and somehow manages to look demure despite being stark naked.
“Even that, it was hot, babe,” Obi-Wan reassures, moving to stand off the bed and walk towards the lavatory, “besides, if I didn’t like something, I’d tell you.”
Obi-Wan opens the bathroom's sink faucet and sets about cleaning Anakin’s spend off his face when he hears the man behind him ask, “you actually would, right? Like…I don’t want you doing something you don’t actually enjoy—”
“Anakin, I promise you, I’ll tell you when I do or don’t enjoy anything we do,” Obi-Wan promises, meeting his best friend’s gaze through the mirror, and the look of relief on the blond’s face hits Obi-Wan in the solar plexus.
He’d known it before now, but somehow this reminder just strikes him anew all at once— Anakin truly does care about Obi-Wan’s enjoyment in their sex, cares if he’s comfortable or not, and that…that burns Obi-Wan up inside. It thaws and warms that cold thing within him the night of their first kiss, melting it down to his very marrow.
“You make me feel safe enough to be honest, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says the words unbidden but finds that he means them, and can’t bring himself to regret voicing them when Anakin lights up at hearing it.
“I feel safe enough to be honest with you too, Obi.”
Though for the first time Obi-Wan also feels like a liar; right then and there stood naked with Anakin in his bathroom, basking in the afterglow of a fantastic round of sex, he realizes another thing— a thing he doesn’t dare say.
I think I really, really like you, Anakin Skywalker…
Obi-Wan can’t help but walk over to Anakin then, face barely dry from his quick rub down with a towel to press a kiss to his best friend’s lips, one which the blond happily returns. Anakin Skywalker is achingly sincere and thoughtful and Obi-Wan barley knows how to handle it half the time, but from the very beginning to this very moment, Obi-Wan knows he’s felt nothing but safe in Anakin’s arms. So, until this…Situationship runs its course to its inevitable end, Obi-Wan will hold onto the man in his arms with both hands, for as long as Anakin will have him.
…don’t over think a good thing…don’t ruin a good thing.