Tastes the Sweetest

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Summary: "You're the closest thing I have to a father."

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"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

"You're the closest thing I have to a father."

The statement rang out through Obi-Wan's head. It wasn't exactly an innocent statement, the Jedi were forbidden from attachments like parenthood, but it was not nearly as terrible what his mind had chosen to do with the statement.

He had known that the...attraction he had been feeling towards his Padawan since his late teen years was wrong-more than, given the difference in age and in power-but this was an entirely different level of filth, even for him. Obi-Wan had never desired children, but when he did consider become a creche master, it was always the probability of having to deal with multiple children similar to Anakin that put him off. His Padawan was too reckless and far too little regard for his own safety for Obi-Wan to ever consider dealing with another one of him. All this to say, Obi-Wan did not want to be Anakin's father, or anyone's for that matter, but he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that something had stirred in him when Anakin had said that in the club.

Thankfully, they had caught the bounty hunter, and the slimeball was already in the Republic's custody, therefore no longer their problem or concern, and had been granted leave to return early to the Jedi Temple, all in time to catch breakfast before heading back to their rooms to catch up on their sleep. However, Obi-Wan was not catching up on his sleep, he was merely lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to forget his Padawan's words. Or the lips they had come from. And what those lips might feel like on his lips. Or his neck. Or collar. Or even wrapped around his...

No, he was too old to be thinking of his nineteen-year-old Padawan in such a manner. He was a grown man, and there was no reason that the mere thought of Anakin calling him 'Daddy' in bed should have had him as hard as he was. He simply needed to drink some water, meditate, and release these shameful and lustful feelings into the Force, as many times as necessary to make the whole thing go away.

Gently, he pulled a soft pair of sweatpants over his legs, pointedly ignoring his hard length throbbing painfully between his thighs. He could relieve himself, but somehow the prospect of a single thought of Anakin slipping in there while he was taking care of himself in such a manner was terrifying enough to keep him from doing it. He decided to forgo a shirt for the time being, it was the high heat of Coruscant summer, but Anakin insisted on their not using the air conditioning in their quarters because he found it to be a comfortable temperature (he disagreed with his warm-blooded Padawan, but he was far too taken with the younger man to tell him so).

The soft sound of his feet padding across the cool tile of their quarters was the only sound Obi-Wan registered, deliberately having chosen to stop reaching for sound in the Force once the mission had concluded. He poured himself a glass of water from the small pitcher in the fridge-despite Anakin's amazement at the amount of water available on Coruscant, he still preferred to drink the blue milk that reminded him of home-revelling at the cool taste on his tongue. The near freezing water seemed to quell the heat that had been building up inside him once they returned to the Temple, but only for a moment, when Obi-Wan heard it.

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