Two Halfs of One Warrior • Obikin/Vaderwan One-Shots

This Was Obi-Wan

• Summary: With how proper and refined his master is, Anakin just can't figure why he sits like that, all spread-legged and obscene. But after a mission goes awry and he sees Obi-Wan naked for the first time, the question isn't why, but more like how he's possibly going to survive with the knowledge.

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This was Obi-Wan Kenobi-Coruscant raised, with his posh Inner Core accent and appreciation for refinement, for civilized things. He liked Corellian rum, Tarine tea and acerbic flirtation. He valued manners, cleanliness and the cultural rules others might prescribe as 'good breeding' or politeness, never an elbow on the dinner table, or force forbid-chewing with your mouth open. He disliked untidiness, and the droid parts Anakin purposely left in his apartment for an ever-present excuse to wander his way into his master's space.

He also disliked the way Anakin propped his feet on his caf table and he loved to gripe about the invisible boot prints and mud left about his space. He taught Anakin how to dance, to stand up straight, which fork to use for the main course at important negotiations and mission dinners. He taught him how to take a lady's arm, how to bow to royalty and those of higher station as an act of respect.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, in all his well-groomed and put together pieces, was refinement and manners itself. Wherever they went, the planet or moon or starbase did not matter, human and humanoid and alien alike all blushed and swooned over his master. He flashed his broad, white grin that always accompanied the playful twinkle in his eyes and negotiations miraculously slanted their way. The Negotiator indeed.

And so, with all these little pieces that made up Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker could not fathom, could not compartmentalize or begin to understand, why his master sat like that. Oh yes like that, all parted knees and splayed legs, toes of his boots often tilted sideways from where he let his feet lay haphazardly on the ground, if they were even on the ground at all. If not found splayed at the ready as if he expected a Twi'lik to be on their knees between his legs, he could often be seen in council meetings lounging in a loose-limbed drape of one leg propped high across his opposite knee.

In complete opposition to every other precise piece and component of his personality, this cog did not fit with the others, and Anakin loathed a machine out of rhythm. It bugged him, plainly, not constantly or even often enough to be named a nuisance. But it remained the diligent part out of alignment that often caught his attention, with the faint reminder to pursue the root of.

This odd habit persisted for years, from Anakin's first notice of it soon after he arrived at the temple and learned Obi-Wan well enough to realize how strange this action was. He continued to notice into puberty, and then throughout his teens. During those later years, with noticing also came noticing, the enticing ways his thighs splayed, the open stretch of his legs and tall leather boots.

It brought fantasies to his mind, of falling between the open lines of him and pressing his hands to the tender inner skin of his knees and taking him into his mouth while fingers buried in his curls and pushed. As he grew older, the fantasies too matured, morphing into hazy conjurings of sitting across his master's open lap, muscles in his legs stretched to their limit, arching and begging to take the full length of him while his master sat fully clothed beneath his naked, writhing body.

That image gnawed at him, the imaginings of his hip sockets aching and pressed wide to rest on the outside of Obi-Wan's always widespread legs. He thought of how obscene it would look, to walk into the Council chamber and see Obi-Wan lounging in his seat with Anakin, ass canted back on his master's cock and bruising hands holding him still and gasping in his lap.

But those were mortifying fantasies reserved for the fresher or late at night in his own quarters, and he always had difficulty looking Obi-Wan in the eyes the next day, after coming apart on his own hand to the thought of writhing on his master's cock. But his fantasies were always vague, fueled by the impressions of Obi-Wan's spread legs and the submissive stances he longed to take between them. He always pictured his master's cock like the rest of him, thin and compact, pale and well groomed.