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

Erotic Nightmares

• Summary: And then the vision changes, sharply, so suddenly he doesn’t have time to even realize it and stop jacking himself off. It’s while he’s taking himself to the edge that he sees the padawan from his earlier fantasies again, though now her eyes are closed as she lays lifeless on the ground. It’s not just her, though; the whole Temple seems to be riddled by Jedi bodies, ‘sabers dropped from still hands and the marks of blaster bolts everywhere.

Obi-Wan gasps, the vision gruesome and horrifying, but it’s when the vision of a tall man appears, the shadows of his cheekbones made severe by the light of his red blade and his golden eyes boring into Obi-Wan’s that Obi-Wan’s hand finally stops because he’s coming, he’s gasping and he’s crying and he’s moaning as he spills onto his hand and his stomach and even up to his chest. His toes are curled and his back is arched because he’s come the hardest he’s ever come while he’d looked into the eyes of a mass murderer, of a Sith.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

The first time it happens – or maybe, the only time it really happens, Obi-Wan is alone. He’s alone, he’s in his bed, and he’s trailing his hand down his chest and down his stomach, all the way to his waistband.

Once he reaches it, he trails his fingers through his newly growing happy trail, pinching the hairs and tugging just to make himself hiss. Obi-Wan likes to tease himself because it makes him take his time; he’s quite revered by the Order for his patience, and he finds this act to be no exception for one of his best qualities.

Though tonight, he’s just a little too impatient. Maybe it’s because he’s riled up from sparring with the other padawans; maybe it’s because more than a few of those padawans gave him looks suggesting they, too, were riled up; or maybe it’s just because he’s an nineteen-year-old human. At the moment, Obi-Wan doesn’t care what the cause of him shoving down his underwear quickly is – all he cares about is wrapping his hand around his aching cock.

Obi-Wan lets out a long sigh, simply holding his cock for a moment. He rocks his hips in small circles, closing his eyes and sinking into the feeling. He remembers one padawan in particular, how she’d been panting after their first round, how her still-growing chest was heaving. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand around himself now, once, and then he lets go so he can spit into his palm. Getting a hand on himself again, he recalls how she’d looked up at him at the end of their third round, cheeks red and pupils blown and lips wet and parted around heavy breaths.

She’d won twice already, signaling the end of their sparring session, but still, she’d squirmed under Obi-Wan’s body and breathed, “Best three out of five?”

Obi-Wan hums out yes now, as he had then, though now he says it as he finally starts stroking his cock. He sets a steady pace, making sure to keep the pressure of his grip light. He may be eager, but he doesn’t want to come yet, not until he gets through the images of their sparring and into the ones he knows will push him over the edge.

The other padawan got her third win during their fourth round, both of them agreeing without hesitation to move onto hand-to-hand. When she’d won, she’d had Obi-Wan’s back pressed to the floor, her hips on either side of his waist, straddling him and one arm on his chest, pinning him down, her breathing hot and loud in his ear. “I loved you on top,” she’d muttered, “but you’re lovely here, too.”

Biting his lip around a groan, Obi-Wan’s hand speeds up and he trails his other one down to his thigh, gripping it tightly with his fingers just to hold onto something. As they often do when he’s run out of whatever’s immediately made him horny, Obi-Wan’s thoughts turn to his time on Mandalore, to his time with Satine. All he really has to do is think of her biting words and how she’s shoved him against the wall when he’d returned them, about how she’d wanted him to shut up so she bit and kissed his lips until they were humping against each other, groaning ‘I can’t stand you’ and ‘don’t stop, don’t you dare stop’ into each other’s mouths.