Seeing Stars

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Summary: Anakin can't sleep, and not for reasons he can talk to his very concerned former Master about.

This all started because of that kriffing dream.

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This all started because of that kriffing dream.

Anakin hadn’t dreamt much since the start of the war, and whenever he did, they were always vague and confusing, never really sticking around once he woke up. No, only nightmares followed him now, through the seemingly endless campaigns and sieges.

He supposed he shouldn’t really call this a dream either, because it sure haunted him like his nightmares did, even if it wasn’t the typical variety.

He breathed through his lightsaber drills, allowing the Force to flow through him, trying his best to keep his hands steady as his wandering mind was plagued with-

They were on a mission, that much was obvious. Why else would Obi-Wan Kenobi be walking into some bar in Lower Coruscant with Anakin by his side?

They were glued together at the hip, Anakin bumping into Obi-Wan’s side with every step. His Master’s eyes were wandering about the bar with feigned disinterest at the patrons surrounding them, but Anakin’s eyes were glued onto him. Onto the way his eyebrows quirked with a sultry grin, onto the blue of his eyes, his hands as they flexed around a glass, his throat as it bobbed when they were given something to drink that didn’t help the fire in Anakin’s belly.

A sharp breath as he twirled and ducked under the training droid, slicing it clean in half for the fifth time that morning. The first rays of dawn peeked in through the window. Sweat dripped down his brow, but something itched under Anakin’s skin, so he paced back to the center of the room, and reset. Feet spread and saber raised, he launched into his practice sets again.

Anakin had been egging him on all night, flirting and bitching near relentlessly, reveling in every sidelong look, every exasperated sigh.

Finally, after it was clear that their target didn’t show, Obi-Wan grabbed him by the back of the neck, and yanked him in close enough that Anakin could feel the soft panting of his breath on the shell of his ear. He nearly whimpered. Nearly sunk to his knees and begged Obi-Wan to take him here in the crowded bar, with everyone watching.

“Go outside, wait for me in the alleyway, and behave.” He muttered in a dark voice that was full of promise and danger. Anakin shivered in anticipation.

Time warps slightly, and suddenly he’s outside, back pressed against the brick, head knocked back in a silent gasp as hands are placed delicately around his throat. His Master is pressed up against him, fingers flex against his fluttering pulse. His vision darkens just slightly, and his lips start to tingle as a broken moan works its way out into the cold air between them.

He’s so hard he feels like even the slightest contact might set him off, and just as stars are starting to explode behind his eyes, Obi-Wan shoves a thigh in between his legs, the rough grind against him sending him careening towards the edge.

“Cum for me, darling.” He growls, and the world explodes into light.

He barely notices that he’s standing still until the training droid shoots a stun shot into his shoulder. He grunts, and flings a hand out to crumple the metal with a thought. The sparking droid falls to the ground.

His stupid dream was just that and nothing more. It didn’t matter if it was affecting him into his waking hours, he would work it out.

Just like you did with that crush on your own Master? A small voice in the back of his mind taunted. He ground his teeth together. Former, he reminded himself, as if that would change anything. Former Master.

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