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

Things Freely Given

• Summary: "You shouldn't have come." Obi-Wan's voice is strange.

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Anakin tracks his missing master to a planet in the middle of nowhere, to a forest that's thick with the Living Force, to the ramshackle cottage at the heart of it.

The air smells of green growth and water. It's spring here. There's a storm on the horizon.

Anakin toes open the front door, slips into the house.

Inside, it's filled with green shadows, sunlight filtering through the vines that crawl up the windows. The interior of the house is in better condition than the outside hinted at. It's dusty, the air stale as if it had been shut up tight for years, but neat, clean. The furniture covered in anti-dust cloths, the kitchen chairs turned seat side down atop the kitchen table, and the bed in the back room made with clean linens and turned down as if waiting to be slept in.

Oh.

"You shouldn't have come." Obi-Wan's voice is strange. There's a cold, hollow quality to it; it rings through the room like the church bells Anakin remembers from the planet Lyare.

"I couldn't not. I won't leave you to deal with this on your own."

"That is exactly what you should have done."

Anakin's half expecting it when the hands grab him from behind, but he still stiffens at the cool fingers that brush across his neck, the weight that sends him toppling to the bed, sprawling out on his stomach. Obi-Wan sits on the backs of his thighs, pinning him to the bed.

"Do you not understand?" Obi-Wan says. "I left because this...infection. It makes me crave you." The warmth of a tongue flicks against the sensitive skin behind Anakin's ear, teeth scrape high on his neck, sharp, deadly.

"You can have me," Anakin says. It comes out little more than a whisper into the quilt and he shifts, struggling beneath Obi-Wan's surprisingly heavy frame, until he's on his back, looking up at his former master.

Obi-Wan was always fair, but now he's pale as moonlight. His hair stands out bright in the dimness, a copper halo around his head. His eyes glow blue, then green, then flash silver as he seems to take in Anakin's words.

"Whatever it takes," Anakin says, "to get you through this."

Obi-Wan tilts his head, the gesture strangely wild. He slides his fingers around Anakin's left wrist, thumb smoothing over the pulse point and brings it to his mouth. He glides the tip of his tongue over the vein Anakin knows stands out stark blue against his skin.

Obi-Wan's eyes are little more than slits of light now and he grinds down against Anakin's hips as he lathes the flat of his tongue along Anakin's wrist once more. Anakin tries not to shiver and fails. This is Obi-Wan above him. Obi-Wan touching him. Obi-Wan wanting him. He bites his lip and the starburst brightness of pain tells him he's not dreaming.

"Whatever it takes?" Obi-Wan says.

"I give it."

"Anakin." His name his a whisper on Obi-Wan's lips and Anakin watches as Obi-Wan turns his wrist gently, presses an open mouth kiss to the pulse and bites down.

It should hurt. He can feel the needle sharp teeth penetrating his skin, scraping ligaments and vein, feel his blood pulse out of him in a fount that Obi-Wan greedily seals his mouth over. Yet there's nothing but a hazy warmth in his mind, a languorous exhaustion in the rest of his body, save for the tell-tell tingle that goes from his groin all the way up his spine, growing stronger the longer Obi-Wan feeds at his wrist until the tingle becomes a lightning strike.

"Master," he groans, arching off the bed. "Obi-Wan..." And he closes his eyes as his orgasm tears through him like a storm.

He thinks he loses time because when he opens his eyes, Obi-Wan is sliding his pants down around his thighs with one hand, the other hand is clamped firmly around his wrist and Anakin has the vague sense of a Force healing pulse flowing into him before he's distracted by the sight of Obi-Wan leaning over his groin, tongue lapping at the pearly strands of semen on his inner thighs, shining in his pubic hair.

"Obi-Wan-"

"You said anything," Obi-Wan says, his voice warm and sounding a little more like the man Anakin knew, but for the arousal, thick and sweet, in it. "Blood isn't the only thing I need," he says, before bending his head once more.

Outside the cottage, the storm Anakin had sensed on the horizon arrives and he listens to the rain hitting the roof, keeping tempo with his increasing heartbeat.