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"Is there anything else we should know, Master Kenobi?"
Mace Windu's voice boomed through the council chamber like lightning splitting the sky. No one was making a sound. The eyes of all the council members were upon his face. Master Yoda, with his ears down, was the only one not looking at him. He fixed his gaze on the face of his Padawan, who stood beside him in the perfect picture of serenity.
There was nothing more to say, nothing more to know. All that his body was suffering was of his knowledge, thanks to the graphic explanation of Master Vokara Che, who did not return his greeting when he saw him enter the room. That which had caused his body to be in that condition so contrary to Jedi morality they had also seen: the video plaguing the HoloNet was a part of it. The most incontrovertible evidence, of course, had been Anakin's request, spoken without hesitation, without fear.
But Obi-Wan knew that what they wanted from him was a confession, and acceptance of guilt, that he would offer his neck so they could slit it and wipe their hands with the warmth of his blood. That they could say: These are the actions of an unbalanced Jedi, but we have controlled the problem. The Jedi Order remains strong and pure, as it has been for many millennia.
"I believe that is all, Master Windu."
Mace looked at him with something like disappointment. That was the worst of it. The way all his friends looked at him now. With pity, with horror, with disgust. He had failed them all again. It wasn't much different than when he was a wild Padawan, with tears in his eyes and his hands clenched into fists, begging them to let him be a Padawan, not to send him away. It was ironic that he wished for something different now.
Please, he thought, in a desperate prayer to the Force. Please send us away from here, where no one knows us, where no one can judge us, where we are, not what we are now.
"Then, I think there is nothing more to say. Master Kenobi, your actions have been reprehensible, completely contrary to what we profess as an organization, and the punishment given in this case, due to the implications, is not only immediate expulsion but to turn your case over to the proper authorities and have your sentence given by the Republic," Mace began to say, hands clasped over his face.
Beside him, Anakin stood up straight. Obi-Wan could feel his fury begin to swirl in the Force. For his part, his heart was pounding so hard he felt half deaf. That was the next best thing. Jail. Life imprisonment. He could easily accept it. His hands were cold, his body aching. Please, he begged the Force. Please.
"However, we have decided that, due to your Padawan's extraordinary circumstances, we will not do anything that."
Obi-Wan felt as if somebody had knocked the wind out of him with a punch to the stomach.
"Anakin Skywalker is too important. If the prophecy is true, he must be among us to fulfill its promise. The Council has granted his request and allowed him to bond with you. It is in everyone's best interest that the creatures you carry in your womb be monitored by the healers within the Temple. Once made a Jedi knight, he can again decide whether to stay or go. Furthermore, Skywalker has claimed his parental rights under the laws and cultures of Tatooine. As upholders of civility and harmony in the galaxy, we have no choice but to accept them. Obi-Wan, you have now become the spouse of a native of Tatooine, so decisions regarding your body and the children you carry, as well as any subsequent children, become the responsibility of Anakin Skywalker. And if you wish to change the status of your relationship, I'm afraid you'll have to take your case to your new partner's home planet."
Obi-Wan looked down at his hand. Anakin had taken it. His hand was warm and dry. Real. It was more real than the rest of his body. He felt light and insignificant, like a leaf falling prematurely from a tree, destined to fall to a ground with no one but him, far from all he had considered his own.
"The terms you accept, young Obi-Wan?" asked Yoda, lifting his aged face and pinning him with his sad gaze. They weren't calling him Kenobi anymore. His last name no longer belonged to him. He was now a Skywalker.
It wasn't as if he could accept anything else. The time he should have fought this had been months ago, when Anakin had first touched him. No, even earlier—when he accepted him as a Padawan. Or even before: when he decided to stop on Tatooine, aboard the Queen of Naboo's ship.
"I accept the conditions, Master. My, erm, my only desire has always been to obey the will of the Force."
Windu shook his head slightly before speaking. "You are fortunate, then, that you have fallen into the kind hands of his only son."
*
Anakin's hands were proof that the Force was a perfect architect.
With the precision of a veteran healer, Anakin was fusing the smallest circuit on the language card of the droid he was repairing. Obi-Wan had stopped reading his weekly report to watch his Padawan sitting in a lotus position in front of the open chest of a messenger droid that occasionally blurted out a word in Rhodian.
It was not his intention to stare at him so intently. Still, at that point, Obi-Wan understood that his apprentice had a natural magnetism, unavoidable to all who were sensitive or insensitive to the Force. It was a kind of halo, an air, as if gravity was heavier around him, as if light fractured around the curve of his fingers, and the luminous rainbow that formed on the surface of his skin made you stop suddenly, drawn like a moth to a lightbulb.
He didn't even speak. He was wholly immersed in assembling a droid that didn't need him to talk in every language. His brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed on his task. And his hands, moving them with intent and dexterity, as if they belonged to a man many years older. This was the calm he had been trying to teach him for years through meditation. This aura of supreme mindfulness was what he always wanted for himself.
It was entirely natural to his personality that Anakin would find peace by modifying a droid that did not belong to him and needed no repairs.
"They are so beautiful in their simplicity," Anakin said suddenly. "They only need to remember the message they've been given and repeat it to the right person. But with this structure, you can build so much more. Make him recognize the tone of voice. Summarize the message. Translate it into a million languages. I can think of a thousand things to give you."
Obi-Wan laughed, admiring Anakin's golden hair, the sheen of the skin on his neck, his ponytail, and his padawan braid. "Don't get used to it, Padawan. They are not yours to do and undo."
Sometimes, the feeling of having him around was too much. Their first days together had been a nightmare for both of them. Obi-Wan interpreted the emotion in his heart as contempt, and Anakin, who knew nothing of the Jedi way of life, considered his Master's healthy distance as an insult. The two found a more or less healthy rhythm when Anakin went to Ilum to build his lightsaber.
There was no more of that initial reluctance, it was true, but there was also no more of that innocence. After nearly seven years as Master and apprentice, after crossing all boundaries, after committing all transgressions, Obi-Wan still had room to enjoy the little things. That Anakin was there with him instead of going out to spend the rest of the afternoon with his friends. That Anakin would use his skills for something as noble as fixing a droid. That Anakin would still be himself: golden, like a ray of sunlight streaming through the window; real, like a burn; beautiful, like fire consuming a body.
"You're right, Master. But I wanted to know how far I could go with this..." Anakin whispered, closing the droid's chest compartment, which turned on a bright blue light and asked in its robotic voice if it had a message to send. "Yes. Tell Tru Veld I'll see him tomorrow for training. Tell him not to be late and to bring the candy he likes. Oh, and recite a poem about the color of his eyes."
The droid gave a beep of understanding and went out the door with a buzz, happy to be used to serve its purpose. Anakin stood up and shook off his hands, smiling too and humming in the Force, as he did when he had done something that brought him great satisfaction. As a boy, he could not contain his energy. He would open and close his hands, jump in place, and shake his head as if the glow of his own power wanted to escape from his pores.
Now, he had other ways to get the trapped energy out.
He looked at Obi-Wan, bit his lip, and cocked his head to one side as if wondering what he would have to do now in the ongoing project that was his Master. Obi-Wan put the datapad down on the couch and swallowed. He had looked forward to this moment all day. Though it was something he didn't say and Anakin, being Anakin, didn't ask.
"Can I eat your pussy now?"
It never failed to impress: the desire in his apprentice's eyes, his harsh but true words, and the thrill that ran through his entire body, as if he had swallowed acid and it began to burn everything inside him, from his stomach to his throat.
"Is this what you want, Padawan?" he asked anyway, leaning back slightly against the couch. He tried not to spread his legs as he waited for Anakin to come over and kneel before him.
"This is what I want most in the world, all the time, every day," Anakin nodded and spread Obi-Wan's legs to sit between them. "Sometimes I can't think of anything else, Master. Master Soara scolds me and tells me I'm a bad Jedi. But I'm not, am I?"
"No, Anakin. You are so good. The best of us," he replied, closing his eyes. The bad one was him. The worst Master in the Jedi Temple. The worst man in the world. But when Anakin ran his soft fingertips over the tender skin of his thighs, there was no room for guilt in his head. There was only him. Anakin and his hands gently removing his boots. Anakin taking his bare foot and kissing the sole. Anakin leaving a trail of wet kisses and ragged breaths on his way to his crotch. He never did anything he didn't like or want to do. The fact that Anakin took the time to drive him crazy was something he did because he wanted to, which made it all the more obvious when he disobeyed his orders to drive him out of his mind.
"Take off your pants, Master. Open yourself to me."
Anakin helped him remove his leggings and underwear. Obi-Wan, who had already anticipated his next request, opened his tunic, exposing his chest, for Anakin to grab, pinch, or bite as he wished.
His entire body was at his disposal. That, too, was his design.
Obi-Wan spread his legs and, with two fingers, spread open the lips of his pussy, which had already begun to leak droplets of thick slick. The look on Anakin's face was enough to make him lose his composure and begin to get wet and feel that familiar pressure in his belly, that urge to start rotating his hips and have the slightest pressure relieve him.
"Wow, you look so pink, Master. You smell delicious."
His apprentice loved to torment him. He would reach up and stroke the sensitive surface of his clit with his fingertip, just enough to make him moan but not to satiate his hunger, just to make sure his response stayed the same. He liked to slip his fingers into his wet entrance and marvel at the strands of his wetness while Obi-Wan spread his legs as wide as he could and bit his tongue to keep from falling into the humiliation of begging him to start sucking. He had to give him his time, had to give in to his infuriating desire: as with the droids, everything Anakin did was a product of his great curiosity, and it seemed that his only determination was to break him in two, to turn him into a thing he could manipulate at his whim, not a man or a Jedi Master, not even his lover.
Anakin wanted to make him his own, and with each day that Obi-Wan allowed him to do so, he came closer to seeing it come true.
"Anakin," he begged, feeling his legs begin to tingle from the position. But Anakin ignored him, continuing to run his index finger along the length of his slit, collecting his wetness and watching his with the attention of a scientist, as if to find the truth of the universe. "Anakin, padawan, I can't take it anymore."
Anakin smiled, "What do you want? Do you want me to eat your pussy, Master, or do you want me to leave?"
Many times, cruelty had gotten the better of him, and Anakin had left without finishing with him. He'd leave him open and wet and gnarled, and Obi-Wan would have to go to sleep with one hand between his legs, wondering how wicked he was to touch himself at night, thinking of his underage apprentice's pink lips.
"No, don't go, please. Anakin," he begged, feeling the wetness of his body begins to wrinkle his fingertips.
"Do you need to come, Master? Do you need my mouth to make you feel better?"
"Yes," he replied, almost on the verge of hysteria. Anakin's blue eyes had become two obsidian mirrors, and his cheeks were as red as the obscene color of his uncovered pussy. Each time, he felt like the first, and Obi-Wan began to feel on the edge of the abyss, completely beside himself. "Please, yes."
The boy removed his hands and replaced them with his own fingers, painfully parting his pussy lips to look inward, into his own abyss, into the darkness of his desire, which he never dared to express except in front of its originator. Anakin reached up to kiss his clit, causing Obi-Wan to throw back his head and close his eyes. He felt his lips grip the hardness of his clit as he began to slide one of his prodigious fingers inside.
"You are so tight, Master. I can feel your pussy clinging to my finger every time I do this," he whispered, lowering his face to suck it again, hard, as if he wanted to pull the little nub between his legs. Obi-Wan grabbed the boy's left hand and brought it to his tit. They both squeezed at the same time, the warmth of Anakin's palm sending shivers through his body.
When they did this, Obi-Wan lost all sense of time and space. He didn't even know his name or his responsibilities. All he knew was that he wanted to feel this way always, crazed with pleasure and that their sole purpose was to make Anakin happy, to make him feel so good. It was as if Anakin was sinking into his brain, too, into his marrow, into his soul. It was as if Anakin took each of his midichlorians and fucked him to madness. He didn't even have to beg anymore because his requests were Obi-Wan's requests. Anakin's fetishes were his. His heart beat to the same rhythm.
That's how it had started, actually. With Anakin begging and Obi-Wan saying nom until he couldn't say it.
It had been an accident (or the will of the Force, who was he to say?). Anakin entered his room while he was still naked after he came out of his shower. He saw everything in a flash: Anakin's eyes stopping on the red hair over his pubic bone, his initial surprise, followed by an understanding, a certainty that made him tremble with fear. As if seeing his body in such a vulnerable state, so open and fragile, had explained everything to him.
To his good fortune, Anakin did not mention it. To his misfortune, Anakin began to move unnaturally close to him, not leaving him alone for a second, perhaps hoping to see him naked again. Or to drive him into submission: that Obi-Wan would acknowledge the unspoken between them and put into words the tension between them. But they were an unstoppable force against an immovable object. Obi-Wan had spent his entire life as a Jedi, silencing his whims and suppressing his emotions. If it had been up to him, they would have spent their whole lives on the edge of transgression; Anakin asking for a yes and he returning a no.
But he never expected that his apprentice would decide to take what he considered his without asking.
So they went on a mission far away from Coruscant and the Code. Obi-Wan sometimes remembered what he had felt that night, and his whole body shivered: Anakin insisted that he wanted to sleep with him in the same bed. Obi-Wan agreed, tired and frustrated. The mission was not progressing, and Anakin watched him silently with the eyes of a tamed predator, an animal locked in a cage, accepting his new fate, and he foolishly believed it was a sign of calm compliance.
He felt his breath first. In the curve of his neck, his nose, his lips glued to the skin of his neck. Then his hands: from the curve of his waist to the roundness of his chest, where he clung tightly, his fingers searching for the hardness of his nipples. At first, he didn't know if this was a dream or reality. Anakin opened his robe carelessly and rolled one of his nipples painfully between his fingers while his other hand slowly slid between his ass and stroked his hole and the wet entrance to his pussy. No one had ever touched him like this, so he had no frame of reference. It was too breathtaking. It had to be a dream. It couldn't be that his Padawan, Anakin, the chosen one of the Force, was abusing him in his sleep.
"Anakin, what are you doing?"
"Can I see you, Obi-Wan? Can I see you again? Why do you always hide everything from me? Why don't you ever want me to see you as you are?"
"Stop this, Anakin. Stop it."
"No. I want you to show me what you are."
They wrestled for a few minutes until Anakin sat on him and paralyzed him. Or until something with the cunning of a snake entered his mind and broke down all his barriers, all his will to fight, all his reservations. He felt Anakin's mouth biting into his mind as aggressively as it bit into his nipple. The "no's" stuck in his throat, and Obi-Wan had the impression that tiny, warm fingers were ripping his heart, splitting it in two to suck out everything inside.
"You're so beautiful," Anakin had told him that one time, thrusting his stiff cock into his helpless cunt. "I could eat you whole."
But now Anakin didn't have to use the Force to force him to open his legs. Now, it was Obi-Wan who opened them first and held him by the head to start riding his tongue inside him. Now Obi-Wan was the lamb, leaping from excitement into the mound of his sacrifice, taking the dagger, opening his own throat so Anakin could quench his thirst.
Anakin eating his pussy now was the least of his worries: he had already given his heart to him that night ‒many nights before‒ when he had promised to train him in front of Qui-Gon Jinn's ashes.
*
They walked silently to their new room.
Anakin was one step ahead, holding his hand, proud, jubilant. With his free hand, Obi-Wan held his bulging belly. He had avoided it during the council hearing, unable to show them that either. It had been enough that they looked at him as if he were a criminal and a madman. He didn't want them to see him so vulnerable, carrying the proof of his sin.
They saw some Padawans on the way. Obi-Wan didn't know if they looked at him because he could only see their boots on the cold marble floor. Anakin didn't care anymore. The Council had given them its blessing. Reluctantly or not, they had done it, and for Anakin, it was an incomparable victory, for the certainty of his allegiance to his Master (no, his wife) was now official. From the galaxy's center to its farthest reaches, Obi-Wan belonged to him, and that was that—the babies he had put there, too. Anakin was a sun about to go supernova and the only barrier between him and his destruction was Obi-Wan, seven months pregnant.
They had been given one of the rooms used by dignitaries from other worlds who came to visit the Temple. The rooms were distant, empty, used in a forgotten golden age, very different from the one they lived in now. The dusty, guarded smell made Obi-Wan sneeze, but Anakin circled the room like the boy he still was.
"So much for Jedi austerity, huh?"
He did not answer. He was cold. Lately, he was always that way. He didn't know if the twins were stealing his warmth or if Anakin's presence had gone from lukewarm to icy now that it possessed him completely.
Anakin turned to look at him with his intelligent blue-sky eyes. "You are angry with me."
He swallowed. "You told me that you wanted to leave here, Anakin. You tricked me. That's all you've been doing all this time. Tricking me. Buying your time to corner me out here where I can't do anything for myself."
"What are you saying?" asked Anakin, frowning. "This is best for both of us."
Obi-Wan wasn't even in the mood to laugh. Every day, the pregnancy grew more difficult. The back pain, the tiredness, the insomnia. Sometimes, he was sure he heard the voices of his children speaking to him at night. Mother. That's what they called him. In all the galaxy, his children were the only ones who didn't view him with scorn or pity or as an object to be used.
"That's a very childish understanding of things, Anakin. You can't even imagine the consequences of what you've done."
Anakin was standing in front of him. He was as tall as he was. Another year and he would surpass him in height as well. It was as if his only goal was to surpass Obi-Wan in every way.
"And you do, Obi-Wan?"
"Better than you! The best thing for us would have been to go to Tatooine, away from the Temple. I told you. I told you again and again. Why did you do that?"
Anakin didn't look him in the eye. "The holo changed everything."
"No, the holo only confirmed what we had already decided. Everyone knows that—Anakin. Why don't you ever listen to me? Why don't you ever do what I tell you?"
The boy turned to look at him with eyes full of flame. "How dare you lecture me on behavior when you look like that? Because the day I impregnated you like a whore, I don't remember you complaining."
Obi-Wan slapped Anakin with the back of his hand. The slap had almost become a full fist. But he did not dare go along with his wish, not even now. Anakin had never been so rude to him, but he knew what happened with absolute power. How quickly it corrupted.
The boy held his face, offended, surprised. Obi-Wan had never been so violent with him. But at this point in their lives, what boundaries were left to break?
Anakin hit him back hard. The blow made his eyes sparkle, and the pain that gripped him was so great that tears welled up in his eyes. The boy, who was so different from him in so many ways, was not satisfied with the blow. He grabbed him by the hair and dragged him to the bed in the middle of the room. Obi-Wan only reached up to protect his stomach.
"I am not a monster. You are! And everyone in the galaxy knows it," Anakin shouted into his face. "I am what you made me!"
Obi-Wan recoiled, but the boy stopped him with his arm. His mouth tasted of blood. Anakin continued to speak:
"I don't care about the holo. I don't care about the Council. I only care about you, Master. My beautiful Master. And our children, of course. Don't you see? This is the only way we can be together. You as my wife, bound to me by all the laws."
"And what about our reputation, our promises? What about the prophecy?"
Anakin shrugged, completely indifferent. He was a child with his favorite toy in his hands; the whole galaxy could wait. Politics, his future, and the future of all depended on his actions. The balance of the Force. His Padawan grabbed him by the collar and forced him to look at his face: his lip was red and swollen from the blow Obi-Wan had delivered.
"I don't care. I don't want to fight you. I love you. Do you love me?"
Obi-Wan felt his lip split from Anakin's blow. No two people in the universe were as perfect for each other as the two of them. "Of course I love you."
"Perfect. That's it, isn't it, Master? That should be enough."
It should, but it wasn't. And yet Obi-Wan watched silently as Anakin began to remove his belt and obi, in the preamble to what they did almost every day and in a foretaste of what his life would be from now on.
"Come on, Obi-Wan," Anakin whispered, his breath hitching, immediately aroused. "Fulfill your role as my mate and get undressed."
He put his hands to his tunic but stopped, suddenly paralyzed by the weight of all that had happened. To his regret, he felt his lip tremble, and his eyes began to sting from the tears that wanted to come out, and he refused to let them fall. Anakin clicked his tongue like a tender father and reached up to his face to kiss his cheeks.
He kissed his eyelids, the tip of his nose, and the line of his beard. He drank his tears. "You're full of hormones and sensitive, Master. Let me take care of you this time, as you always have."
"No, Anakin. Not now, please. I'm so tired."
Anakin kissed him on the mouth, plunging his tongue into his mouth, sucking urgently, touching his teeth, feeding on his saliva, caressing the skin of his face with a tenderness that hurt more than the blow. He pulled away to shake his head. "I'll do everything, don't worry. I just need to feel you again."
Obi-Wan wanted to tell him that it wasn't about that, that it had never been about that. Maybe in the beginning, when he was afraid of the sensations in his body, when he didn't even know what was on the other side of love. It was not about how far Anakin could transform his body but what uncompromising limit he could stretch it to, as if what he sought from it was not pleasure but the mark of brokenness. Because Obi-Wan wanted to tell him that he still loved him, no matter how much he humiliated him, and that there, exactly there, was the problem.
"I love your tits so much," Anakin whispered and fondled his milky, sensitive breasts. Sometimes the boy satisfied himself just by sucking on them while he jerked off with one hand. "So fat and full of milk."
Obi-Wan lay on the bed, which smelled of dust, of guilt, of decisions he should have made when he still could, when he still could have picked up the pieces of his broken heart and returned to what they had before and not the aberration they were still committing. The fact that the Council had allowed them to be together didn't mean it was a good thing. Just because people did it on Tatooine, a planet that wasn't even part of the Republic, didn't mean they should have to. And yet there he was, lying on the sacrificial table, ready to be devoured by the teeth of his new god.
His Padawan—no, his husband—began kissing his tits, slowly making his way down to the huge bulge that was his stomach. He pulled his robe open all the way and caressed his stomach with his hands, kissing it around his navel, whispering things Obi-Wan didn't want to hear but couldn't help but do so.
"Are you there? My babies. Mine only. Mine whole. So beautiful, I can't wait to see you," he said to the twins growing inside him every day, the most absolute and incontestable proof that they had both fallen into the sin of bondage, into the darkness that they had always been warned brought on by loving too much, without measure, without regard for anyone but the need of a hungry heart.
Through the Force, Anakin's words seemed to imbue the air in the room with a breathtaking warmth. He felt his whole body respond to his words of love for his children. He threw his head back, choked with the euphoria of being loved by someone like Anakin. Sometimes, it felt like this, like two hands around his neck, or like being embraced by flames, or like being crushed by an entire ocean.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan begged him, crying, shedding the tears that seemed part of that sea inside his chest. "Take me, please. I can't wait any longer."
And he realized, in that moment, that sex was much easier to bear than the wholeness of the Force's son's lightning love.
"Yes," the boy gasped, pulling his pants down just enough to pull his cock out and begin rubbing it over the roundness of his stomach, making him shiver with his wet warmth. If Obi-Wan was absolutely disgusted and fearful of their situation a moment ago, now he was thinking of nothing but the always incredible feeling of Anakin inside him again. "Yes, whatever you tell me, my Master. I'm going to make you feel good."
Because of the size his body had acquired, Obi-Wan was finding it harder and harder to spread his Padawan's legs, but he always found a way. Sometimes, it was as if the Force gave him enough energy to serve Anakin. Obi-Wan grabbed below his knees and settled himself, fully displaying himself to the boy, still rubbing himself on his hardened belly.
"You're wet all the time," Anakin said, wetting two fingers with his lube and running that wetness over the head of his cock, obscenely stroking the tip of his glans, toying with the strands of precum coming from it as well. "I don't know why you fight yourself so much, Obi-Wan. I'm sure you'd be so happy if you'd just listen to me."
Anakin replaced his hands behind his knees with his own, pinning him to the mattress while he grazed his erection over his needy slit. Obi-Wan put a hand to his mouth to bite his fingers to keep from moaning in desperation. "In every way, you are my wife, Obi-Wan. But also my Master and the mother of my children. You don't have to do anything anymore. Just let me take care of you."
"Ah-nakin. Ah, ah," he moaned as he moved his hips back and forth, seeking the hardness of Anakin's cock, his whole body quivering with anticipation, with a hunger for the feeling of being filled, absolutely filled with the boy he loved so much.
His Padawan didn't want to torture him any longer and, turning to look at his wet, reddened pussy, slowly plunged his length inside his entrance, making him moan through his teeth. They had been fucking almost every day for over a year now, and his pussy, even with two babies inside his womb, had not adjusted to having a cock inside. Each time, it felt like the first: it burned; Anakin penetrated him like he was breaking him, a dagger in the soft flesh of his sacrificial body. But then, almost immediately, Obi-Wan felt pleasure replacing all pain and all doubt. It was an incomparable sensation, and every time Anakin began to move in and out of him, he told himself that he would do everything he could to keep doing it.
It was as if it was a poison, unnaturally disrupting his brain and his dignity. He didn't know if he was addicted or if there was something wrong and broken inside him, but it was a matter of Anakin touching him with his sunbeam fingers for Obi-Wan to roll his eyes like a creature in heat and let himself be fucked to the point of madness.
"You're moving amazing, Master. Fuck. You look so sexy."
With one hand on one of his milky tits and the other in his mouth, Obi-Wan let Anakin's cock make him forget the humiliation, the guilt, and the heartbreak of having failed so miserably in all his endeavors. When Anakin fucked him, Obi-Wan was nothing but pleasure, a creature thrilled to die in the hands of the person he loved most. A lamb in the palms of his god, happy to have served his purpose. He loved to feel it inside. He loved to feel his body soften, open, spilling nectar.
Anakin leaned into him, not letting go of his legs, placing him in a very uncomfortable position. He felt his legs begin to cramp, and the passage of his and Anakin's belly squeezed his bladder painfully. Another minute, and he would end up urinating on both of them.
But his apprentice didn't care. He didn't care about the pain or the fluids that poured out of his body, whether they were tears or pee. He loved everything about him. He loved him so much, so much that he would do the worst things to him, bend him in the worst ways, and inflict the worst suffering on him to show him. And Obi-Wan would thank him with a smile. Thank you for loving me so much. Anakin moved to his face and kissed him gently as he continued to pump inside him with a violent, desperate, boyish, god-like rhythm of an insatiable appetite, of a husband doing his bidding in his mate's body.
"Agh, Master. Do you want my cum?" asked Anakin, voice ragged with the effort, his words falling from his mouth to his, irritated and full of saliva from the animal kiss he had given him. "Do you want me to come inside you? Where are my children?"
"I want everything from you," Obi-Wan confessed, reaching up to hold Anakin by the neck and pull him closer to him, to keep kissing him, to feel the spasm of his orgasm inside his transformed body. "I want everything you give me."
*
By the time Obi-Wan realized he was pregnant, it was too late for a medical abortion. He kept the pregnancy tests inside his closet, hidden under a cloak he no longer wore, and promised himself that he would take Anakin and they would go far away from there. To Bandomeer, to Devaron, wherever. Even to Tatooine. It was better than staying in the Temple, where they would all go to find out the truth about him.
Anakin found out eventually, of course. They were naked, lying with each other in his Padawan's tiny bed, the room smelling of sex and secrets. Anakin placed his warm hand on his navel, and Obi-Wan felt him frown over his shoulder.
"This feels weird."
Obi-Wan didn't have the heart to lie to him. He squeezed the boy in his arms and plunged his face into his sweat-soaked, dirty blond hair. "How does it feel?"
The boy tried to pull away from him, but Obi-Wan tightened the embrace, and he had no choice but to relax on him while he thought and analyzed what he felt inside his Master's body, which was so rare for both of them. "Like the Force," he answered her, half unsure, moving his legs against the grain of his hair. Like gravity is heavier in here. Like the first time I met you."
"Can you see it—can you see inside me?"
"I've never tried, but... I think I can."
So Anakin closed his eyes and pressed his palm over his entire belly, which hadn't even bulged yet but had already awakened him with nausea and vomiting. It did feel like the Force, he agreed, as he felt the tendrils of Anakin's mind, of his Force signature, touch his with curiosity and some fear as if he feared to hurt him.
But whatever harm he might do to him, it was already done. There was a baby inside him, and he was sure of that. And a baby that, moreover, he didn't want to get rid of.
"I see... blue eyes, like yours, but they are not yours. I see my mother's face. A hand on mine. But it's small. I see—" and he fell silent, brow furrowed, pink lips, freshly kissed, in a pout. "Sunset on the dunes. Two suns."
Obi-Wan could almost see along with him what he was describing. He did not remember Tatooine with tenderness. He remembered rather the heat, the sand, the uncertainty away from Qui-Gon, the sense that things were happening far away from him, the anguish that he could do nothing to stop the chain of events that would end at this moment, in Anakin seeing through the Force not only his son but his sons, plural.
"They're twins," Obi-Wan whispered, too surprised to feel frightened.
"What are you talking about?"
He said nothing more. He let Anakin break away from him and look at him with disbelief, first, then with something akin to offense, as if he had disrespected him in his silence. Thus, on the white sheets of his bed, with his golden braid over his shoulder, his sky blue eyes, and his mouth pink as a wound in the process of healing, Anakin looked like the child he was. Like the boy he'd been having sex with for months, the one he'd let finish inside his pussy, the one he'd let kiss him, touch him, open him, love him, even if it were forbidden.
"What the fuck?" exclaimed Anakin when he understood the implications of what was happening.
Obi-Wan tried to control the exasperation that came over him when he saw Anakin, as always, take the path of anger. "That's what happens when you fuck without protection. Like we've been doing so far."
"And don't you take care of yourself?" asked Anakin, jumping out of bed and beginning to dress. He suddenly became distant and avoided his gaze. It was the signal that Obi-Wan must leave as well. It was very early, and classes wouldn't start for another half hour. "You don't take pills or anything," he said.
"I do. I used to. I stopped taking them when..." he said defensively.
"Then it's not my fault, is it?"
"Anakin, it's our fault. This is both of ours."
Anakin silently began to put on his boots, his back to him. Obi-Wan did the same, starting to feel the chill that would not leave him during his pregnancy. "I'm not angry, you know," he told the boy as he closed the obi over his waist that he had held while they fucked a few minutes ago. "But we should make a decision."
"I'm not ready, understand?" the boy replied, opening the door and waiting against the doorframe for Obi-Wan to come out and the two of them to go back to pretending their lives were normal—two Jedi in the Temple on Coruscant, obeying the code, not knowing what the other's mouth tasted like. "I don't want to talk about this now."
But before he left the room, Anakin caught his hand between his. Obi-Wan looked around, his heart pounding in his chest. The sleeves of his robes covered his Padawan's tender gesture, as many times before, but it wouldn't be that easy to hide the pregnancy.
"Anakin, we have to get out of here. You know that, right?"
The boy nodded, looking at him with his gemstone eyes. "I know. I promise I'm going to do the right thing for both of us...no, for all of us."
*
The video was leaked on the HoloNet at the same time as the diplomatic crisis on Andara, so the Jedi Council attributed it to an attempt by the separatist faction within the Senate against the Order's authority. They neither released a statement nor agreed to let the media into the Temple either. Their allies within the Senate, such as Bail Organa, the head of security in the Chancellor's office, did everything possible to erase all traces of their existence.
The damage was done, of course. Though the citizens of Coruscant moved on to other news more relevant than a Jedi's indiscretions, the Order's detractors repeated the story at diplomatic committee meetings. These are the beings we let lead us into civility? They are depraved beings, worse than the lowest criminals, they would say, their huge smiles and bug eyes filled with the glow of victory that only brought total humiliation of your opponent. We must separate this Order from the Republic and relegate them to the darkness where they belong.
The video was from the Jedi Temple's security circuit, from a low camera at the eye level of any padawan inside one of the training dojos. The cameras were usually turned off because they were only used to record the Padawans when necessary.
Obi-Wan couldn't explain who had turned on that camera or how they had found the video to leak to the HoloNet. But neither could he explain what he was doing on the video. After all, it was something that didn't require any more words. The image of his uncovered body, being vulgarly fucked in public view, was enough.
The first image was of him kneeling as if he was meditating. But Obi-Wan had his eyes open in an unmistakable gesture of expectation. Then, like an actor in a play, Anakin appeared. The camera angle cut off his image. Only his body was visible up to his shoulders, tall and slender. But Obi-Wan knew it was Anakin. He could recognize his gait everywhere and the way he opened and closed his hands, blind or drunk. Anakin stopped in front of him, and with those precious hands made by the Force, he took Obi-Wan's cheek with a tenderness no Padawan should have for his Master.
Had the video ended there, perhaps the Council would have viewed him with suspicion, and perhaps Master Yoda would have chided him again about his flimsy resistance to Anakin Skywalker, but it wouldn't have gone any further. However, the video did not end there.
Anakin's hand ran down his cheek, and two of his fingers stopped in front of his mouth, the tips of his fingertips on his lips. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to let the boy in front of him insert his fingers into his mouth. A boy who was undoubtedly a Padawan, for the tip of his braid could be seen on one of his shoulders. Many media outlets had wondered if the person in the video had been Obi-Wan Kenobi's famous apprentice. Still, there was plausible deniability, theories that maybe it wasn't even him, but an actor with a deepfake of his face, a 3D animation made for HoloNet perverts who got off on Jedi porn. Even many Council masters had come to accept that this was the reality when Obi-Wan appeared in front of them at the hearing. But his bulging stomach and Anakin's request had destroyed any doubts in their minds.
Anakin kept shoving his fingers into Obi-Wan's mouth, fucking his throat, as if he had to open his mouth as well as his pussy, in an absurd pantomime of what he would do next. In the video, Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind. His face was one of absolute fascination, of complete love. The next scene was of the boy pulling his robe to one side and taking out his cock, erect, very wide for a boy of his age. In the video, Obi-Wan seemed to tremble with excitement. He stood up in his place and opened his mouth like a child waiting for his mother's food. Anakin held him by the chin as if to say, tut-tut, good Master, don't move; do as I say, and I'll give you what you want.
Obi-Wan saw the video for the first time in an empty room, to which Mace Windu dragged him with his severe face and his stony eyes so that he could explain to him, what the fuck was what he had just seen and why all Coruscant was talking about it. He had the fortitude to watch the whole video, of course. He wasn't going to be a coward now.
What surprised him most about himself was precisely that: the gesture on his face, the haziness of his gaze, as if he wasn't present, as if someone was controlling, forcing him to stoop to such an indecent situation. Mace wondered. He knew the other person was Anakin and fearlessly asked if Skywalker had hurt him. "No," he answered, holding his hands to his belly. "Everything I did, I did consciously."
In the video, Anakin thrust his cock hard into him, not caring if he was suffocating him or not. That's the way they both liked it. Obi-Wan loved to choke on his apprentice's cock, to feel it down his throat, filling his mouth, his chin, his neck, wetting his tunic with saliva. He liked the taste and texture of it. He loves to smell his cock, to inhale the secret, spicy scent he kept under his pink, almost hairless balls, and clean them with his tongue, feel the roughness of his skin on his tongue. He could spend hours and hours at that, and Anakin, sometimes, let him. They had spent whole nights like that: his Padawan on the edge of the bed and him facing him, drooling and engulfing his cock, while Anakin ran his hands through his already too-long hair, telling him how much he loved seeing him like that, how amazing his mouth was, that he should touch himself while he did it.
That day in the dojo, Anakin had said nothing. He gave him a couple of orders but nothing more.
Anakin fucked his mouth for minutes on end. He grabbed him by the hair hard and rammed his head as if he were a silicone sex toy and not the head of the man he had to obey and follow in everything. When Obi-Wan seemed to beg for air, he grabbed him by the hair and let him breathe for a second before returning to the same action, which from the outside looked incredibly violent and unsettling in a place as peaceful as the training dojo.
After a while of that action, Anakin pulled him back again and moved towards his face, almost compromising his anonymity. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, and the only thing that appeared in the frame was a wad of saliva that landed directly on his tongue, which he swallowed with no problem. Perhaps, of everything that appeared in the video, that was the worst part. How Obi-Wan swallowed the saliva of the boy in front of him with the urgency of a thirsty man in the desert, how he closed his eyes, as if it were honey, the most delicious thing he had ever tasted in his life, how he opened his mouth again, as if to show the boy that he had been a good master, drinking his saliva and his violence.
Anakin helped him to his feet, but before he could wipe his face with his hand, he opened his tunic and inner robe. Obi-Wan remembered telling him to be careful and saw himself say it: Be careful. Don't rip my clothes as if that was the worst thing happening at that moment, as if clothes mattered, as if propriety still had a place in that absurd situation.
The damage was already done. Years ago, when Obi-Wan's heart had softened for Anakin, who waited for him asleep outside his door because he was terrified that he would go away, that he would die, that he would be left alone, Obi-Wan experienced for the first time the savage assault of the Chosen One's love.
He turned his head to Mace the first time he saw the video. The Jedi master had not taken his eyes off him. When he saw him look at him with undiluted fury, he understood, for a second, what Anakin had always wanted him to understand: how much none of it mattered. Not the code, not the politics, not what anyone else thought. The only thing that mattered was the two of them loving each other.
The video continued for almost 10 minutes more.
Anakin turned him around and placed him almost facing the camera, in the perfect position to show his half-naked profile: his tits hanging out of his uniform, his pants halfway down his leg, his white ass sticking out, his face contorted in a gesture of ecstasy, his eyes blank, his tongue sticking out as if possessed, completely mind broken. And behind him, a Padawan, fucking him from behind, slapping his ass with his hips, pap, pap, pap, pap, holding him by the waist or, a few times, by the tits. Squeezing them, stretching his nipples, while Obi-Wan made just enough effort to arch his back so the boy could continue fucking him with animalistic abandon.
The video ended mid-fuck. The last image on the hologram was of Obi-Wan with his eyes closed and his tits out, frozen in a jolt of absolute pleasure.
Though he knew the scene had continued, Anakin had placed him on the floor and finished inside him, as usual. And if the people who hypothetically watched the video had waited a couple of seconds longer, they would have been able to see his Padawan's face too, falling to the tatami along with him.
But that was not the way things had happened. The only one singled out, the only one on display had been him.
"Well?" said Mace, stern as ever, the living image of Jedi justice. "Do you have an answer to my questions, Kenobi?"
He shook his head, feeling a kick in the belly. "I will submit to the judgment of the Council, Master Windu. And I will accept whatever punishment you see fit."
*
Anakin tried to kiss him before entering the council chamber, but Obi-Wan turned his face to the side. He feared that if he allowed himself to do so, he wouldn't be able to stop the urge to vomit.
"We'll be fine, I promise," Anakin insisted, in that tone of voice he did when he wanted to show he knew more than the others.
Inside, the entire Council gathered, just like when Qui-Gon had brought Anakin from Tatooine, claiming that he was the child the prophecy about the balance of the Force spoke of. But this time, they weren't looking at them with curiosity but with a guard, with pity, as if they were looking at an animal about to die.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi. You know why you're here," Mace announced, placing his hands over his face, unyielding. "Let's not waste time with more ceremonies. Tell us why you are here."
The eyes of all the masters were upon him. The eyes of all Coruscant, too. But the ones that weighed on him the most were the glowing eyes of the boy beside him, drilling over his hundred.
"I am here because I am the man in the video leaked on the HoloNet. It is not a fabrication of any kind. I committed these acts within the temple grounds. I will not tell you who else participated with me because I am only responsible for my actions. However, I must confess and accept that I had a relationship with my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, for over a year, knowing that he was my apprentice and under my responsibility and that he was not of an age to consent to a relationship."
At his side, Anakin shifted in his seat, furious at the implication. Because, besides, it was true. Anakin was sixteen. Maybe on some remote planet, it was legal for him to have sex with a man, but not on Coruscant. As much as he had been the one who had insisted on having a relationship with Obi-Wan, as much as he had been the first to transgress his autonomy, this was the truth. Their relationship, in every way, was a crime, a mistake.
Yoda lowered his ears, distressed. "The father of the creatures you carry in your belly, of young Skywalker, are they?" he asked, pointing to his belly, which, even under his robes and cloak, he could still conceal somewhat. Some of those present opened their mouths in surprise.
"That's right," Obi-Wan replied, clearing his throat because it was dry. "I'm 30 weeks pregnant. We think— I think they're twins."
"Have you not had prenatal care, Kenobi?" asked Depa Billaba in a breathy whisper.
He shook his head. "The first time I saw a doctor regarding my pregnancy was yesterday, with Master Vokara Che."
"Send her in, please," Master Yoda requested.
Vokara entered the room a couple of seconds later, and Obi-Wan sought her gaze, but the healer made an effort not to look them in the face, neither he nor Anakin, who, at least, had been silent all that time.
Mace continued to speak. "Master healer, please. Could you brief us on Kenobi's state of health?"
"His health is not compromised, masters. He is low on some markers, and I am concerned that he has not taken supplements to aid his pregnancy. Also, the stress and insomnia of his situation have increased some of his symptoms, but as far as the health of the fetuses is concerned, there is nothing to worry about. They are healthy and are of the right size and weight for their gestational age. In a couple of months, he will give birth, as Stewjon's people have a gestation time of 9 months as well," Vokara announced, her voice mechanical and without inflection.
"And what about the Force?" asked Plo Koon. "The fetuses—are they Force sensitive?"
"They are. And I'm glad it's someone like Kenobi carrying them to term, as the combination of their midichlorian count would have killed a non-sensitive person. Their genetic record also came as a surprise. They are identical twins, practically clones of each other, but one is a girl and the other a boy".
The surprise that assertion provoked in the council members echoed through the room. It was true. And yet Obi-Wan had not stopped to think about the possibility that, of course, the children of someone as powerful as Anakin would result in a Force anomaly. He had spent all those months drooling over his Padawan's cock; he hadn't had time to think about the implications of it all.
"Thank you, Master Vokara. That will be all," Mace said politely.
Before she left, though, Vokara turned and looked at Master Yoda sternly. "I would just like to say that I think this is a frightening perversion, masters. And that while we can no longer do anything to prevent it from happening, I would like to see those involved given exemplary punishment."
At her words, several members of the Council nodded their heads in agreement with her. Obi-Wan looked out at the Coruscant skyline. He, too, agreed with Vokara. Obi-Wan deserved jail, life imprisonment, exile in the worst hole. And he hoped the Council would give him just that.
Mace opened his mouth to begin speaking, but the one who interrupted him this time was Anakin, who took a step forward.
"I have a request."
He said it earnestly and with the authority a boy his age shouldn't have.
"Request? Request about what, young Skywalker?" asked Yoda, surprised.
"About what is mine."
Obi-Wan turned to look at him, startled.
"As a native of Tatooine, I will invoke the rights that belong to me as the father of the children my Master carries within him. It is an old custom but a sacred one. A pregnancy means belonging. It is a sacred bond that the gods of the dunes and the two suns bless. That is the reason my mother was able to escape being sold to a man to make him his wife. Without a father, I was hers, and she belonged to herself," Anakin announced, very sure of himself.
Mace looked dumbfounded. The rest of the masters frowned, analyzing the boy's words. Obi-Wan considered what he meant. If pregnancy was a sacred bond, that meant...
"That means that from the first moment he carried my children within him, Obi-Wan ceased to be under your jurisdiction and judgment."
"Skywalker...," Mace threatened, unsure.
"He is mine, according to my culture. Obi-Wan, his entire body, and for the rest of his life. As well as the lives of my children."
They all fell silent. Anakin continued to speak now that he knew he was in control of the room. "Therefore, I would like to ask for the protection of the Jedi Council to safeguard the health of my spouse and my children. And for you to vouch, to the republican government, that you agree with this union. This is the best option for everyone, and you know it. Thus, Obi-Wan can be judged neither by you nor the Republic but only by the laws of Tatooine, where I am old enough to be the head of a family."
"Would you give up your position in the Order for this, Skywalker?" asked Luminara Unduli, unsure.
"No. I will stay here with you in gratitude for your protection, and I will play my part in restoring the balance and serving you when necessary," Anakin concluded, stepping back and placing himself beside Obi-Wan, who was still stunned by the words of his Padawan. Or of the one who had just pronounced himself his husband.
They were ushered out of the council chamber for a couple of minutes. Obi-Wan waited with his back leaning against the wall, holding the weight of his stomach, which was becoming more unbearable by the day. He was sleepy and hungry and did not want to talk to Anakin, pacing in front of the council door like a specter. In his innermost self, Obi-Wan hoped they would reject his request and heed Vokara Che's sentiment instead. The humane thing would be to send them away, to Tatooine, to exile. The reasonable thing to do would be to send him to prison, where he would never see the sunlight again.
When they were called back, Mace Windu asked him if there was anything else they should know.
"I believe that is all, Master Windu."
To their surprise, they accepted Anakin's request and, with a unanimous vote, made him the bonded mate of their Padawan, by the customs of Tatooine, stripping him entirely of his autonomy and that of the twins he carried in his womb. He was no longer Master Obi-Wan Kenobi; he would now become Obi-Wan Skywalker, the mother of Anakin's children, the Chosen One of the Force.
"The terms you accept, young Obi-Wan?" asked Yoda.
"I accept the terms, Master. My—my only desire has always been to obey the will of the Force."
"You are fortunate, then, that you have fallen into the hands of his only son," said Mace, concluding the council meeting with this statement.
However, always surprising, always a step ahead, always at his own pace, Anakin raised his voice again.
"May I kiss him?" the boy asked, looking at Yoda. "To seal our relationship. It is the custom, at the end of every marriage ceremony."
Obi-Wan saw all the Jedi masters lower their gazes, embarrassed to participate in that farce. The only one who held his head high was Master Yoda, who, as Grand Master of the Jedi Order, had to accept this and all the blows that came with the serenity of a saint. The old Master nodded, and Obi-Wan thought he heard a slight "if necessary."
Anakin turned to him and took him by the hands.
His face was beautiful, flushed with the feelings that had flooded him; Anakin looked like the most radiant creature in the galaxy. Absolute victory suited him. Power over a person fit him like a ring on his finger—the engagement ring they would never have. The boy cupped his face with both hands and moved to his lips but did not seal the kiss.
"I love you, Obi-Wan," he whispered, with a feeling so powerful that it seemed to him that the whole spire was wobbling. "I love you so much."
And Obi-Wan opened his mouth to let in his warm tongue and allow him to kiss him in a vulgar, obscene display of absolute belonging, of unconditional love, until he stopped listening to the noise of Coruscant traffic, to Master Yoda's heavy breaths, and his own heart, galloping wildly toward the sharp teeth of his husband.