Archive of Our Own

“What’s wrong my love?” Padmé asks Anakin carefully after he avoids her attempting to remove his pants for the third time this evening as they their hands roam and they embrace on her couch.

She pulls her hands away from him and leans back. Worry taking root in her heart.

“Have I… done something that’s made you uncomfortable Anakin?” She asks as she puts a bit of careful space between them.

Something panicked flickers across his face for a second before his expression settles into discomfort. He rearranges himself beside her, adjusting his pants. Which naturally draws her attention to his crotch briefly, and she finally notices that she can’t actually see any sign of his arousal.

She pulls further away then, a deep dread settling inside her. But he chases her, taking her hands in his own.

“You could never do anything wrong Angel. It’s not... that. I just... I don’t want to right now.” He stutters, head turning down and to the side to avoid her stare as he finishes.

She slips her right hand from his and cups his cheek to draw his gaze.

“You could have said something darling. If you’re not in the mood, I’m not in the mood.” She reminds him gently.

He's never had problems with these pressures before, but it’s not unthinkable for him to develop them now. They hardly see each other and their relationship sometimes feels more like a lovely idea than a reality. And he’s always been so worried about satisfying her properly in bed. Too anxious about it, really.

He shakes his head and leans in to kiss her. It’s soft but she can’t mistake the underlying passion there.

“I’m happy to bring you any pleasure you want, Padmé. I don’t need anything right now. I just want you to feel good.” He tells her when they pull back.

She hesitates for a moment in his space. It isn’t like him at all. He doesn’t usually do this. But there’s a first time for everything, and she can tell from his expression that he really is eager to please her.

“Okay, if you’re sure Anakin. I’ve missed you so much.”

He kisses her and puts his hands on her shoulders. She falls into the embrace, holding him in return.

It progresses to his fingers slipping inside her underwear and rubbing some minutes later, and then eventually his mouth on her pussy while she throws her head over the back of the couch. She writhes for him and muffles moans as he licks and sucks. He’s not the most skilled with his mouth of the partners she’s had, but she loves his enthusiasm. She loves that she got to teach him this. That he has given this to her alone.

When they’re cuddled together in bed a few hours later her mind turns back to his own lack of interest. She tries to tell herself it is probably just the war. She knows he has just been granted leave because his last mission was especially difficult and harrowing. He hasn’t talked about it, but she can see the shadow in his eyes. She hopes it’s just that. That he just needs time, and he’ll be alright.

The following week of his leave goes much the same. Every private moment they steal together has him bringing her pleasure and seeking no reciprocation.

She’s not one to believe that sex is about exact equal pleasure exchange every single time, but even still she’s starting to feel bad by the fifth repeat of this new pattern.

And she doesn’t spy his erection once through his pants in any of these moments. Which implies a lack of interest in the proceedings that causes more than a passing concern. Something has killed his sex drive, which is out of the norm. Yet he still feels like he needs to satisfy her, she doesn’t like any of it.

So she finally sits him down and traps him in the conversation he clearly doesn’t want to have, when he seeks to eat her out again on the final night of his leave.

“Anakin. If something has happened, please tell me. I’m your wife, I love you. I’ll support you through anything. But I need to know if my touch is unwelcome, and how.” She keeps her voice steady as she speaks, despite her fear that someone has hurt him while he’s been out there in the stars where she can’t reach or support him.

His face changes when he grasps what she’s implying. A quick flash of something she doesn’t catch, swiftly buried.

“Someone did. Someone hurt you.” Her voice breaks as the words escape. Her heart twinges painfully in her chest.

He shakes his head and squares his shoulders.

“No. No nothing like that happened. It...” He sighs and shifts on the edge of the bed to face her better.

“We investigated the Queen of Zygerria about the missing colonists from Kiros, I’m sure you’ve heard by now. The plan fell apart and she got the upper hand over us. She had both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka… enslaved,” He spits the word with venom, “so I had to do whatever she said. I was her guard, supposedly. But in truth I couldn’t… I wasn’t free to choose.” He begins to explain, defeat weighing him down visibly.

She watches him struggle to refer to himself as the Queen’s slave and aches for him. It all sounds just as terrible as she imagined, worse even.

He waves his hand to stop her when she opens her mouth to comfort him, horror and rage boiling up behind her ribs.

“But it wasn’t like you’re thinking. She wanted... she wanted me to be with her, but I refused. So instead she left me with... well... what she referred to as a gift. But what is a punishment, for refusing her.” His gaze drops.

She blinks blankly, no idea what he might mean by those words. Though there is some relief that her assumption was apparently wrong.

“What did she do?” Padmé asks quietly.

He sighs and stands, moving away from her. He begins to disrobe. Removing his belt and then each layer until he’s left in just his leggings. He pulls them, along with his underwear, down.

Her eyes gravitate to the space between his legs and instead of the pretty soft cock she expects to see she finds a small metallic device.

A chastity cage.

Her eyes rise to his face quickly. He looks decidedly embarrassed.

“I’ve tried to remove it but... I can’t.” He explains bashfully.

“You... can’t? Even the Jedi healers can’t?” She asks as she guides him to sit back down beside her. He’s clearly uncomfortable being exposed and she tries not to look but she can’t quite help it.

The petite cage fully engulfs his dick. He always was sort of small soft. The fit looks snug. And she doesn’t recognise the material by sight. It might be some kind of alloy, but it has an odd, shifting patina she hasn’t seen anywhere before.

“I haven’t shown the healers.” He admits reluctantly.

“Anakin!” She snaps, forgetting her careful, deliberately gentle approach to the situation for a moment.

“I had a droid medic scan it! I was going to just remove it myself. It doesn’t have a locking mechanism to pick or slice into. It has a one-time close. But that’s not a big deal because there are other ways to get it off, I thought. But then the scan... it’s some kind of Zygerrian material that’s not in any databases I checked. It... it’s resisting all forms of tools I try on it. Even... my lightsaber is too dangerous to try obviously but even that won’t work, based off what I’ve been able to test.” He gets lost in his explanation and relaxes for a moment but eventually slumps when he finishes speaking and glances at her.

“So what are you saying?” She knows what he’s implying but it’s just... every material has a weakness of some kind. Nothing is unbreakable, at least to her knowledge.

“I don’t think there’s any way I can get it off.” He answers, sounding resigned. He looks agitated as he admits it.

“Then why haven’t you gone to the healers? There’s always a way.” She argues, quickly growing annoyed with his stubbornness.

He shakes his head.

“With all the scans I’ve taken of it, there’s nothing they can tell me that I don’t already know. I’ve got one or two more ideas but... but I’m starting to think it can’t be removed, end of. I think the Queen knew that, the way she talked about it.”

She stares at him silently for a minute, and his dejected posture. As embarrassment creeps into the edges of his expression, she is reminded of how they got to this point in the conversation.

She plasters on an encouraging smile despite her swirling inner turmoil.

“I’m sure you’ll find the solution Ani. There’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it. But you didn’t need to hide this from me. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. There are other things we can do for each other in the bedroom.”

He gives her a wry look.

“There’s not a lot I can do, but... yeah. Yeah we’ll make do, I’m sure.” His confidence is false, she’s shrewd enough to tell that, but she doesn’t call him out for it.

He obviously thinks she won’t be able to get him off. She might have to ease him into it, but clearly she’s going to have to teach her husband about anal stimulation too. Like she’s taught him everything else.

⟡⟡⟡

It’s not what breaks their relationship in the end. Though the sex isn’t as good after that. There’s a new awkwardness to him that doesn’t wear off. He never seems to stop feeling like an inadequate partner for her once he’s caged. He’s never as confident fucking her with a strap, even though it’s no better or worse really.

But at the end of the day their marriage is more than just sex. So that tentativeness isn’t what breaks them. Clovis is.

She almost... she almost takes him back, at the end of the whole thing. But she thinks better of it at the last second. They’re obviously dragging each other to dark places they cannot go. Just as she warned him their secret would all that time ago on Naboo before the war. So she makes it final, instead of repairing things between them.

He walks away from her back to the warfront, and she knows it’s the last time. That the next time he comes back to Coruscant, he won’t be coming back to her.

⟡⟡⟡

He never does find a means of getting the damn thing off. It’s not as bad as it could be after Padmé teaches him how to release some of the pent-up need and desire by teasing his prostate.

It’s something he’d thought about before then, obviously, but never actually done until she walked him through it. And it’s good, once he knows how to do it properly he likes it. He likes it quite a bit. But it takes a lot more effort than jerking off does.

And he misses fucking his wife. Quite frankly.

Until he no longer has one. Because he can’t control his dark impulses and they cost him another thing. One of the only good things in his life.

On the other hand, he thinks to himself that Obi-Wan should be proud. Now he truly embodies the image of the celibate Jedi. However unwilling it may be.

He turns his focus fully to the war. And he drifts closer and closer to Obi-Wan. Despite the man’s part in Ahsoka leaving, he knows it’s not really his Master’s fault. And Anakin needs something.

Now he’s lost Padmé’s gentle love he needs something to fill the hole. Obi-Wan’s distant affection isn’t really enough, but he clings to it anyway. It’s all he’s got.

⟡⟡⟡

The war comes to a startling end with the reveal of the Sith. He’s not even on Coruscant when it happens. He and Obi-Wan are busy dealing with Grievous on Utapau while Windu is slaughtering the Sith Lord and stopping his dark plans for the Jedi and the galaxy from coming to fruition.

Anakin feels somewhat useless as the supposed ‘Chosen One’ when the destruction of the Jedi Order, the Fall of the Republic, and the activation of the chips in the clones’ heads are all averted without him.

He does feel extremely unlucky that he’s given a seat on the Council just before all of it though. As it means he has to sit through endless meetings discussing what happened and what nearly happened. As well as dealing with all of the consequences. It falls to the Order to manage the entire clone army getting de-chipped of course. And then they end up right in the middle of the fight for the clones’ rights as sapients. The senators they end up working closely with are those heading up the Rights Bill that’s been stuck in a committee since the beginning of the war four years ago. Which unfortunately for him includes Padmé. He avoids her eyes whenever they all meet with her and Organa and a few further senators.

He knows other members of the Council pick up on his reticence. Obi-Wan especially.

In fact Obi-Wan dares to make a comment about it after a couple meetings of Anakin only stiffly acknowledging her when he absolutely has to.

“I understand that it must have been difficult to let go of things, with Senator Amidala. I want you to know I am proud of you, for being able to put those feelings aside for duty. I know how hard it is to do. Any relationship between the two of you could only have ended badly for everyone, but that doesn’t make it easy. I know. You have done well and shown a great deal of maturity.” Obi-Wan’s expression is kind in a way that makes him sick. Anakin hates that he just knows, despite all of their attempts to hide the relationship.

The words land like needles in his skin, despite Obi-Wan’s intentions. Because Anakin didn’t end things with Padmé, that was her. And it’s more of the same Jedi platitude. As if suffering alone is somehow noble. It doesn’t feel noble to Anakin.

The whole little speech leaves him bitter. So bitter he barely bites off the urge to snap a reply he’ll regret.

And so late that same night, out of a vindictive urge to make Obi-Wan eat his words and an extreme amount of sexual frustration, Anakin leaves the Temple and heads to a bar in civilian attire.

He cruises for a while, nursing a drink and searching for the right kind of person. Preferably a man, since their wants are more likely to align. Someone tall who will hopefully be big. Generally attractive to him. And who looks nothing like any of the faces that swirl in his mind when he puts his fingers inside himself.

He’s never been one for casual sex. He avoided exploring with any other Padawans in his senior years under his Master, because that just wasn’t him. He’s always wanted the feelings on both sides making it mean something. Otherwise it feels cheap to him. But he’s trying something new, motivated mostly by desperation and a little by spite.

After an hour a tall Nautolan approaches him. Anakin’s not very good at gaging their age, but when the man speaks Anakin knows he’s a man.

He eyes Anakin appreciatively and says, “I can’t help but notice you’re here alone.”

Anakin’s never been good at this. He didn’t woo Padmé by being good at this, as she’d so often reminded him. But he tries to call up every bit of advice she ever gave him and everything he’s watched Obi-Wan do over the years.

“I am, someone… someone cancelled on me tonight. Left me feeling a little lonely for company. How about you? Are you looking for company?” He replies casually as he leans back enough that the shirt he’s wearing rides up a little. He also bites his lips and stares at the Nautolan through his eyelashes.

He wouldn’t say the man is exactly his type, but he’s attractive. And he looks nothing like the two people Anakin would rather forget tonight. So that’s a draw.

The man smiles at him and leans down to whisper in his ear. The man’s scent or cologne is pleasing too, sort of light and airy.

“I might be, depending on what you’re looking for.” He tells Anakin.

Anakin can feel the Nautolan’s interest sparkling in the Force, and knows he’s found his catch.

He smiles at the stranger as he carefully probes the man’s mind. A moment later he opens his mouth to say everything the man wants to hear.

It’s easier than Anakin expects, when he’s willing to use the skills at his disposal.

He lets the Nautolan take him back to his apartment. It’s a nice place, but Anakin doesn’t think all that much about it. He lets the Nautolan press him down into his mattress, open him up slowly, and then slide inside him.

He’s big. More than Anakin’s ever taken. It makes him cough. Then the Nautolan starts thrusting, with more force than Padmé ever did. His solid weight pressing over Anakin. It makes him delirious. The feeling of a thick cock stretching his hole and rubbing against his prostate on each rough thrust has him experiencing the most unrestrained ecstasy he has in years. Ever since the cage stole his pleasure from him.

With this stranger there’s no expectations or worries like there was with his wife. He’s not worried about living up to some kind of standard. When he asks the man to push him down into the bed by his nape, he does so.

When it happens, it’s the best orgasm he’s had in a long time.

He leaves the man’s apartment almost as soon as the afterglow has worn off, not keen to linger and chat or anything else. He didn’t come here to find a new partner, nor a friend. Just for some relief from the endless tedium.

The coldness of the encounter does put him off a little. The pure physicality of it. That’s not him. Sex is supposed to mean something.

But the relaxation and satisfaction he feels the following day is so good he decides to do it again a few nights later. This time he picks up a Zabrak at a different bar. Two hours after leaving the Temple he’s biting off his moans as the man’s cock splits him in half. The simple pleasure of it is perfect. He just lays there and takes it without a single thought in his head. There’s something particularly heady about just being used, about being held down like that.

After the second taste he realises he’s addicted. The break from his frustration and general discontent clears his head. It’s the best stress reliever he’s experienced in years.

From then on between his missions he spends every other night looking for hook ups in bars on the lower levels. Mostly with men, but occasionally with women or others if they have a cock. Natural or synthetic, either works. If it’s natural he has them use protection anyway, so a strap is just as good.

The thing he craves is being held now and fucked into until he’s incoherent from it. It’s the only thing that quiets his mind, and empties his balls.

He tries not to let it distract him during missions. But unlike in the past, if he thinks a negotiation might go better if he responds to someone’s advances... sometimes he actually does respond instead of demurring. Not always. Sometimes the diplomat or whatever is of no interest to him. But every now and then he lets himself get fucked, and it helps on more than just a personal level.

The first time Obi-Wan witnesses Anakin respond to someone’s interest on a mission, is well…

“And perhaps you might join me later for further discussion, Master Jedi?” The woman they’re speaking to gives him a flirtatious smile.

She’s definitely a bit older than him, probably in her forties or possibly thirties, if Anakin had to guess. She’s pretty, in a distinguished sort of way. She has a Core accent, despite her spot in the upper echelons of a Mid Rim system’s government. She falls just within his parameters. She wouldn’t turn his head under other circumstances, but the way she’s looking at him with a subtle smirk and confidence suggests she probably has the kinds of tastes he looks for in women.

Specifically, ones who want to top him, rather than be topped by him.

“Oh, I am sorry Delegate but Knight Skywalker will be busy-” Obi-Wan begins with a polite expression of remorse and Anakin realises his Master is going to ruin his chance if he doesn’t intercede quickly.

“That sounds lovely Delegate Mida. Forgive Master Kenobi, I do have the time, if you’d like my company.” Anakin gives her his best charming smile, which she returns.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widen and his mouth hangs open momentarily before he remembers himself and blanks his expression.

Obviously he moved to rescue Anakin from a diplomat’s advances, expecting them to be unwelcome. They always have been in the past, to his knowledge. Which is how Anakin realises Obi-Wan doesn’t actually know what his former Padawan is getting up to these days.

Anakin can’t quite decide if he wants Obi-Wan to find out. He’s probably going to now, one way or the other.

Obi-Wan gives him a subtly searching look but nothing more in front of company. Anakin is careful to avoid finding himself alone with Obi-Wan at any point before he follows Mida back to her room in the citadel they’re gathered in for the ongoing negotiations.

They talk for a while, and then hands wander casually as they touch each other. When she eventually gets him undressed, she gasps at the sight of the cage.

Her eyes dance with delight.

“Oh Knight Skywalker this is a wonderful surprise. I had wondered if you understood what it was that I look for in young men. But oh, you do, you really do, don’t you?” She gushes.

He smirks, not half as shy as he would have been about this six months earlier.

“Maybe I was looking for exactly the same.” He answers, trying to sound coy.

While he may not be extremely attracted to her, he can’t deny that the sex is mind blowing. And she’s well placed to manoeuvre things in the direction he and Obi-Wan are aiming for. It helps that those aims happen to benefit her, but he knows she’s partial to their position because of him and his actions.

Obi-Wan spends the entire rest of the mission staring a hole through the side of Anakin’s head, which he does his best to ignore.

Once negotiations have closed successfully and they’ve achieved all they came to with an uncharacteristic smoothness, they chart off for Coruscant in their modest ship. As hyperspace streaks by Obi-Wan clears his throat. Anakin clicks his tongue in mild annoyance, already knowing what conversation his Master is going to want to have.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan begins slowly, like he’s uncomfortable.

Anakin just wishes he were uncomfortable enough to leave it alone, but he’s obviously not going to.

“Yes?” Anakin sighs.

“You… Is it wise, to act the way you did on this mission?” Obi-Wan has a very carefully blank face when Anakin risks a glance at the copilot’s chair.

He gives Obi-Wan a supremely unimpressed look.

“You can’t actually lecture me on getting us a favourable outcome in negotiations by sleeping with someone, I’ve witnessed you do it literally dozens of times.” He says, biting back his aggravation as best he can.

Things between him and Obi-Wan are… complicated, since the war ended. But he’s still the closest person Anakin has. He won’t lose his Master, not if he can help it. Even if that involves choking back a lot of things he’d like to say.

Obi-Wan winces.

“…Be that as it may, I am capable of compartmentalising these things. Can you say the same, Anakin?” He pushes.

Now Anakin’s getting truly annoyed, so he snaps.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m still a Padawan! I’m doing exactly what you’ve always wanted. I’m not attached. There are no strings when I…” He gestures broadly over the console to vaguely indicate getting fucked by strangers, “…do that. And sometimes it helps the mission. Frankly it’s none of your business if I have casual sex sometimes.”

Disapproval flickers across Obi-Wan’s expression at the crude language but Anakin couldn’t care less. He’s needlessly agitated by his new habits being interrogated by one of the reasons they even exist.

Anakin doesn’t have Padmé. And he’s clung to the only other person he can for affection and comfort. But that has its own downsides because Anakin also loves his Master with more depth than he should. He also wants Obi-Wan. Which has only gotten worse with the proximity and loss of his wife.

But he cannot have his Master like that. It’s never been a possibility. Even if Obi-Wan didn’t just see him as that whiny Padawan still, and Anakin believes he does, his Master would never break the Code by sleeping with someone he has such a personal relationship with. Someone with many strings attached.

He’s spending so much of his time with Obi-Wan, so he needs to let off some steam somewhere else. He used to have Padmé to focus those feelings on. Now he has the bodies of nameless beings. It’s not as good. It doesn’t really make him happy. But he’ll lose his mind entirely if he does nothing at all.

“You? Casual encounters? Since when Anakin, honestly? Since, when?” Obi-Wan sounds as close to flabbergasted as he ever really allows his voice to.

Anakin clicks his jaw closed and turns back to the viewport, watching the swirl of hyperspace.

“You said it yourself Obi-Wan. I let Padmé go.” That’s a very self-serving way of describing what happened, and hardly accurate, but it’s not like Obi-Wan needs to know the specifics.

“That’s when this changed?” Obi-Wan queries.

Anakin shrugs, wanting the conversation to be over.

“Well… if you really believe you can maintain proper boundaries and keep these dalliances truly casual I… I suppose you’re right. It’s none of my business.” Obi-Wan says stiffly, after a moment too long.

Anakin glances at him and finds Obi-Wan closed off both in expression and in the Force. There’s a tension in his posture that Anakin recognises as irritation. About what, Anakin can’t fathom. Why would Obi-Wan care if he has hook ups? Casual sex is at most discouraged by the Order and the Code. Expected to be kept inconspicuous. It’s not forbidden. So why is Obi-Wan bothered?

A question he’s still pondering days later.

After returning to Coruscant he buries his feelings in the bodies of random people. He actually goes out every night for a week, until he bores of the routine and has to take a break.

Of course, because his luck is awful, Obi-Wan’s apparently been paying close attention to his habits since returning to the Temple. And the man decides to corner him as Anakin returns to his quarters from lunch, on the ninth day back from their mission.

“Anakin.” That forbidding tone spells doom.

Anakin brushes past him and moves to clean up the project he left out on his workbench. He’s scrapped it, so there’s no reason to still have the parts strewn everywhere.

“Master?” He responds as he puts his tools and the pieces away in their proper places.

“I said it was fine, when I thought it was something you were only doing on occasion. But this is… your behaviour is unbecoming of a Jedi and Knight. You cannot carry on like this.”

Anakin furrows his brow and puts down his things, turning to the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan has his arms folded in the sleeves of his robe and is giving Anakin a disapproving look that’s never once worked.

“What are you talking about?” Anakin asks flatly.

Obi-Wan lifts one arm to gesture broadly.

“Your… encounters. I believed it was something you were doing appropriately. With an understanding of the fact that such things cannot steal your focus. But every night when you’re at the Temple is not such behaviour Anakin. You cannot comport yourself in this kind of way.” Obi-Wan explains, tone hard.

Anakin grits his teeth. Since it’s that or scream.

He breathes through his nose for a second before answering.

“Have you been stalking me? Why would you even know that I’ve gone out every night since we got back?” He fires back.

Obi-Wan’s face flickers. And Anakin notices his ears pinking.

“I’m just concerned about you. And I was right to be, obviously. This behaviour is-”

Anakin sighs loudly and turns around, shaking his head as he moves to finish putting his things away.

“Obi-Wan there’s only so much I can take.” He mutters acerbically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Obi-Wan retorts, sounding more annoyed than Anakin expects.

He’s oddly bothered, again.

Anakin says nothing, flexing his jaw. Nobody knows, despite all the time that’s passed since Zygerria. Anakin’s managed to keep his shame a secret. Padmé is still the only one who’s aware of the cage, nameless beings he fucks aside. And they don’t really count, considering they don’t know who he is.

“I need this, can you understand that? Just leave it alone. I’m an adult for kriffsake, stop hovering.”

“You need to go out that often for casual encounters? I doubt that. What you need, is to control yourself. It’s acceptable for a Jedi to do in moderation, but not-”

Anakin moans, frustrated beyond words. The high and relaxation from getting well fucked, the good mood it usually puts him in, is truly lost at this point. There’s nobody that can rile him up like Obi-Wan can.

“I need relief. That’s what I need. And I go out and get it. So that I can focus on my duties when there’s a job to be done.” Anakin snaps, stepping into Obi-Wan’s personal space as he does so. As usual Obi-Wan is unphased by the intimidation tactic.

Unfortunately he watched Anakin develop it as a teen, so he’s completely immune.

Obi-Wan’s face grows embarrassed as he moves to reply.

“Relief? Surely you can find that yourself. You do not need to always seek it in others.” He looks thoroughly uncomfortable as he speaks, which is a sentiment Anakin shares for different reasons. They’re getting much too close to the truth of the problem.

“No, I can’t.” He growls.

He doesn’t want his Master to know about the cage any more than he did back when it happened, but he’s also tired of tip toeing around this, and this conversation is grating on his last nerve.

“What? Anakin what does that mean?” Obi-Wan stares at him with a mildly incredulous expression.

He’s not doing this, he won’t.

He tries to brush past Obi-Wan, deciding the entire day is a lost cause and he should just flee the Temple until after latemeal has passed. No idea where he’ll go or what he’ll do, besides getting out of here.

He’s blocked by Obi-Wan turning and smoothly grabbing his bicep in a tight grip. Anakin tries to shake him off, but he holds strong. He actually pulls Anakin around until they’re facing each other, very nearly chest to chest.

“Not so fast. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you meant by that Anakin. I sense there is more to it than I can guess.”

Anakin hisses through his teeth as his upper body clenches with tension for a long second before he finally just cracks and leans in closer to spit his answer.

“You really have to push, don’t you. You just have to know. I can’t karking get myself off because I got- because-” He stutters, confidence leaving him as swiftly as it came. He gives up and pushes the memory into Obi-Wan’s mind. Who, despite their argument, welcomes him in the Force and accepts it.

“You have refused my offer one too many times. I am the Queen, I will not stand for such disrespect, nor the defiance of one who works for me. If you will not join with me, I will take something from you. If I cannot have you, no other woman shall either.” Miraj says as she steps towards him with a small object in her hands.

He tests his binds but doesn’t break them. This punishment, whatever it is, he’ll have to endure. If he fights she might hurt Ahsoka. Might kill her, even, before Anakin can reach her.

His skin crawls as her hands touch him and he tenses, almost breaking the binds holding his hands behind his back, but before he can she is done. Something cold and oppressive has clicked shut around his cock.

His eyes fall to between his legs. A cage. She’s put a cage on him. He grits his jaw hard enough to cause pain, locking the simultaneous laugh, scream and insult behind his teeth. He won’t insult her, he can’t. Not if it could get Obi-Wan or Ahsoka killed.

She’s kriffing caged him, literally. But it doesn’t matter. Once this horrible mission is over he’ll remove it by whatever means he has to. It feels… wrong, violating, to have had it placed on him like this. But he is a Jedi. He is more than these feelings, and it will only be a temporary state of being, anyway.

The memory fades between them and Obi-Wan’s expression has completely transformed now. Gone are his disapproval and anger. Replaced with a horror and sadness.

“Anakin…” His tone is hesitant, careful. “You’re still wearing it? After all this time?” He checks.

The expected mortification climbs Anakin’s throat and threatens to choke him. He swallows it back ruthlessly.

“It can’t be removed.” He answers shortly, staring away from Obi-Wan’s probing gaze and over his shoulder.

“I’m sure that-”

“It can’t be.” Anakin snaps, interrupting. He’s had this conversation with Padmé already.

“Whatever you’re thinking of, I already kriffing tried, okay?” He says resignedly as he drifts his eyes back to Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan who is staring at him with that artificially blank look that Anakin has always loathed. No doubt his shields are high too. Anakin doesn’t bother to try to glean anything about what Obi-Wan’s feeling through the Force. He peels Obi-Wan’s hand off him and steps away.

“It’s really…” Obi-Wan says stiffly, trailing off awkwardly.

Anakin rolls his eyes and clenches his jaw.

“It’s none of your business how I handle my problems. I don’t need the lecture. But I do need you to leave it alone.” He informs Obi-Wan pointedly.

He takes a few more steps back.

“Anakin.” The soft reprimand is back as Obi-Wan’s face pinches.

“It’s not attachment. If I had… if I was with the person- the people I really want to be with, it would be. But it’s obviously not.” He grits out.

Obi-Wan sighs and his shoulders lower as he shakes his head slightly, “Padmé-”

Anakin laughs bitterly, interrupting, “It’s not about Padmé. That’s long over.”

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows as he crosses his arms.

“Then who-”

An aggrieved noise escapes Anakin’s throat.

“You are not that oblivious Master, don’t pretend to be.” His voice drowns in resignation.

This is too direct, too close to the straight truth. Acknowledging it inevitably means Obi-Wan letting him down not so easily. After everything else that’s happened today, Anakin doesn’t want to hear that.

While Obi-Wan’s expression is still confused, while he’s still figuring it out, Anakin turns and leaves. He flees his room before Obi-Wan can stop him, and makes his way out of the Temple swiftly.

It’s not exactly late yet, but he knows if he makes his way far enough down the levels he’ll be able to find clubs that are already packed like it’s the middle of the night.

He picks a club he’s only cruised once before, far enough down he can feel the weight of the planet above him through the Force. It’s always sort of oppressive, when he goes down more than a couple levels below the surface. The sheer amount of life and weight over his head, felt through the Force, is discomforting.

But he’s had plenty of practice ignoring it, so ignore it he does. The club is stuffed to the brim, so it doesn’t take him long at all to find someone looking for a quick fuck.

He lets the Kiffar pull him into the alley behind the bar.

Anakin passes him a condom he bought from the machine in the club’s refresher. The young man he’s chosen for tonight, a Kiffar who looks around his age, takes it. The Kiffar, whose name he hasn’t actually gotten, has short locks tied up over his head and a handsome face. He’s a little young for Anakin—he likes them noticeably older than himself usually—but the guy is cute and the bulge is his pants is promising.

“Thanks, forgot to grab one.” The Kiffar says as he takes it.

Anakin just grunts as he braces both hands against the vaguely grimy wall and spreads his legs. His hook up for the night pulls Anakin’s pants half way down his legs and Anakin makes the mistake of hanging his head. Giving him an unobstructed view of his singular torment in this life.

He usually tries not to think about the cage. He can always feel it, of course. But it’s the kind of sensation that fades into the background any time his mind is occupied. There’s something… galling about it, for lack of a better word.

About seeing it and being reminded of what one of his enemies was able to take from him without any fight. What he lost and gave up without struggle.

He hardly regrets his choices that day, in the sense that they protected his Padawan and his Master, but it still chafes a great deal. The way he hadn’t even struggled as she locked away his cock permanently.

He can feel blood rushing south and he bites his lip as he curses himself softly internally. His dick tries to thicken and strains in the cage, quickly becoming slightly painful. This is his least favourite part of the proceedings, but his body inevitably gives up on that before long and he can focus on the one kind of pleasure he can actually properly experience.

The Kiffar’s prep is rushed, which is unsurprising. They are standing in an alley. If Anakin wanted this gentler and sweeter he would have picked someone looking to take him home. As it stands he just wants freedom from his thoughts. To not have to think about what’s going to happen next time he sees Obi-Wan.

When the Kiffar pushes inside him there’s enough of a stretch that it burns slightly, but Anakin just breathes through it. It’s not his preference really, but he can take it. Of course he can take it, he’s a Jedi and until recently a General.

Then his partner starts to fuck into him. All quick, harsh thrusts. It’s hurried and sloppy but it’s still just what he needs. He closes his eyes as he drags his fingers against the hard surface of the wall and just feels.

He lets everything else fall away as he focuses all his attention on the feeling of a hard length sliding in and out of him, hitting his prostate every so often. The angle isn’t perfect for it, but Anakin knows how to cant his hips to make sure it doesn’t go completely ignored.

His cock is growing softer in its cage, even as his gut burns with arousal. It’s good, the edge of uncomfortable tightness lessens and he’s able to just lose himself in the repetitive motion of the Kiffar’s thrusts. The man might be mumbling something, Anakin’s not listening. He lets his mouth run, occasionally muttering things like ‘yes’ and ‘please’ to keep that cock thrusting away but his mind isn’t with the man he’s chosen today. It’s entirely lost to the pleasure.

He can feel pre-cum leaking out from the cage, slowly emptying his balls. He doesn’t need a good long session for once, because he’s been doing this night after night so he’s actually not terribly pent up in a rare exception. Which is good because a rushed alleyway fuck isn’t going to give him the kind of relief he usually needs after a long stretch without anal.

“Leave.” A voice snarls from his left.

Anakin blinks his eyes open as the man behind him stops thrusting and pulls back a bit.

“Man what’s your problem? Can’t you see we’re-” The Kiffar starts.

“Leave.” A voice Anakin recognises even before he’s lifting his head to the sight of his Master standing a few steps away.

“This is Jedi business. Go.” Obi-Wan declares in a frigid tone, his pale robes bright in the dingy space. He shifts minutely and his saber gleams at his hip.

Anakin almost protests as the Kiffar pulls out rapidly and fiddles with his pants, redoing them. It is most certainly not Jedi business, but it’s too late to explain that because his hook up has been thoroughly spooked and makes a run for it without even acknowledging Anakin.

After watching the young man run the opposite way down the alley he turns to Obi-Wan and glares at him.

Obi-Wan who’s eyes are on Anakin’s bare ass.

Anakin swallows and quickly pulls his pants up, feeling such a sharp stab of self-consciousness, it almost makes him nauseous. Just as he’s turning around Obi-Wan crowds him against the wall. Anakin hasn’t managed to redo the front of his pants yet and Obi-Wan stops him by putting his hand squarely between Anakin’s legs. Cupping his caged cock.

“Master?” He squeaks embarrassingly before he remembers himself and the fact that Obi-Wan has just cock blocked him.

He squares his shoulders and scowls at Obi-Wan as he prepares to throw out whatever insult comes to mind first but he’s stopped in his tracks by the Jedi Master’s expression.

There’s an almost wild edge to Obi-Wan. He looks angry and… dark. Dark with… Anakin isn’t certain. So he ever so slightly probes Obi-Wan in the Force. Just the barest amount, so his Master doesn’t notice.

Want.

Dark with want, apparently.

And jealousy.

Wait… what the kriffing hell?

Anakin feels vaguely like he’s been hit over the head with the weight of an entire super battle droid. He slumps back against the wall and Obi-Wan chases him, crowding in until their chests are pressed tightly together. His hand squeezes around the cage which pulls a small noise from Anakin that he instantly wishes he could erase.

He’s still tingling with the last vestiges of pleasure, which is not helped by the firm hand cupping the cage. And he’s trying to process the fact that Obi-Wan is jealous over what he just witnessed. That he apparently wants Anakin. And oh, he’s right in Anakin’s face with a dark, furious look. It’s a lot to take in all at once.

“I told you this behaviour was inappropriate, and yet you ran straight off to do it again.” Obi-Wan snarls.

This makes Anakin roll his eyes, feeling like he’s returning to more familiar ground.

“You followed me. You decided to interrupt. You watched. You are touching me.” He snaps back, equally as annoyed by losing the chance to maybe cum on a stranger’s dick.

To be honest it didn’t feel like a very sure thing. The Kiffar stretched him enough, but the rest was so rushed there’s a good chance he wasn’t going to manage it. Doesn’t mean he isn’t going to blame Obi-Wan for stealing the opportunity from him anyway.

“You chased him off because you couldn’t bear to watch him fuck me.” He adds, as a final hit.

Obi-Wan’s hand actually loosens and then pulls away until Anakin makes a displeased noise and cants his hips forward to chase the touch.

“Don’t back down now Master. You came all this way for something, what was it?” Anakin taunts.

Obi-Wan’s hand stops in its retreat, just hanging between them, barely brushing the cage.

“Earlier, in your quarters, what did you mean?” Obi-Wan’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it.

“You know what I meant.” Anakin stares him down, daring Obi-Wan to look away first.

His Master doesn’t, he just stares through Anakin, searching for something.

Then, after a long second, his eyes fall closed and the tension bleeds from his frame.

“It can’t-” He starts.

And Anakin just has to interrupt, because he will not hear it. Not after all of this. Not after Obi-Wan had his hand on Anakin’s cock a second ago.

“No. You don’t get to beg celibacy from me. You didn’t come here to lecture me. You came here because you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else touching me.” Anakin realises it’s true as he says it. And all those little moments finally click into place and make sense to him.

Obi-Wan was jealous of Mida.

Serves him right, Anakin thinks. He’s done that to Anakin countless times over the years. He deserves a taste of it in return.

Obi-Wan’s eyes sharpen and Anakin recognises his jaw flexing, despite his beard mostly hiding the movement.

Anakin’s found the weakness in his opponent’s defence, which means it’s time to go on the offensive hard. And Obi-Wan’s made the mistake of giving him the chance to get his bearings in the here and now, so Anakin strikes quickly with confidence.

He grabs Obi-Wan’s hand and curls it back around the warm cage, massaging the back of it as he cups it to keep it there. He leans forward to whisper in his Master’s ear, clutching his nape in a durasteel grip so he can’t run away.

“If you hate to see someone else have me, give me what I need Master. Because I ache for you, you know that? It could be you. I want it to be. But I’ve had to settle, because you never gave me what I needed.” He breathes the words into Obi-Wan’s ear and enjoys the very small shiver he gets in return.

When Anakin pulls back Obi-Wan’s face has cracked open somewhat. That want is now plain to see, and there’s doubt too. Mostly there is a hesitation that means he’s at least considering it now.

“You didn’t exactly tell me you needed this, how was I supposed to know?” Obi-Wan mutters. Then his expression flickers.

“You shouldn’t need this.” He says like he’s realised that should have been his initial response, and wishes it was.

But it wasn’t, so Anakin latches onto what was. For its revealing nature.

“I was embarrassed about it, for a while.” He admits with more ease than even he expects. It very obviously takes Obi-Wan aback to hear those words.

But Anakin’s thrumming with confidence now. He’s in his element. Obi-Wan wants him, and is so very close to giving in.

“But I don’t need to be, do I? Don’t you want to slide inside me Master, and bring me the only pleasure I can still know? Don’t you want to feel my tight ass around your cock? Because I’ve wanted it so desperately. I’d never fuck one of these strangers ever again if you gave me what I wanted. What I need.”

It seems impossible that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is possessive of someone, but all evidence points to it. The jealousy from before. The challenging light in his eyes now. He’s possessive of Anakin, and it makes Anakin soar with the headiest pleasure he’s felt tonight so far.

Obi-Wan hisses like a beast and roughly turns Anakin around, pushing him against the wall hard. He leans in to whisper as his beard tickles at Anakin’s face, pressed awkwardly to the side.

“You’d never fuck anyone else if I had you? You’ve been acting like a shutta, and I’m supposed to believe that Anakin?” The Huttese word sounds strange in Obi-Wan’s accent, but it also makes Anakin moan in surprise.

“I’m not a shutta.” He snaps.

“Yes, you are.” Obi-Wan retorts tartly.

“Then fuck me until I forget all about them, until there’s just you, Master.” He challenges, widening his stance and hooking both hands in his pants so he can pull them back down over his ass.

Obi-Wan’s weight lifts away a little for a moment and he curses in Ryl, causing Anakin to chuckle. Despite his protests when Anakin swears, Obi-Wan’s always had an extremely colourful vocabulary when he’s flustered.

Then Obi-Wan is back as two fingers gingerly press between his cheeks and prod at his hole. They slip inside easily of course.

“Do you have protection?”

Anakin’s honestly shocked at how easily Obi-Wan has surrendered, but that shock is quickly drowned out by triumph singing through his chest.

He fumbles blindly with his pockets and produces another condom and lube packet. Obi-Wan’s hand closes over his own and takes them both.

Anakin doesn’t really need any further prep but he appreciates Obi-Wan taking a moment to add more lube to the equation. After a few agonising minutes of stretching those fingers slip out of him and a blunt head is pressing at his hole instead. Anakin sort of wishes he’d gotten the chance to look at Obi-Wan’s cock before now because even if he cranes his neck he can’t see it from this angle. His Master has him thoroughly pinned to the wall, face squashed to the side.

“Do you promise Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks softly, breath tickling the side of his face.

“Huh?” Anakin replies intelligently, already lost to heady anticipation and need.

“Do you promise not to fuck anyone else after this, Padawan mine?” Obi-Wan bites out.

Anakin lets his eyes flutter closed as Obi-Wan’s weight presses against him harder, crushing him against the wall.

“Yes.” It comes out like a plea. At this point he’ll do anything for a cock. For Obi-Wan’s cock.

“I’m not sure you mean that.” Obi-Wan says pointedly.

Still holding off from pushing in. The blunt head of his cock bumping at Anakin’s slick and open entrance without breaching it.

Always withholding. Almost like he can’t help himself.

Anakin grits his teeth and snaps, “Show me why I don’t need anyone else then Master. Why you’re better than any of them. Make me forget anything besides your cock.”

Finally, Obi-Wan rises to the challenge. His hips thrust forward roughly and his cock slides in right to the hilt. Anakin’s breath stutters out at the sudden stretch. He’s not the biggest Anakin’s ever taken, but he’s not small.

Obi-Wan pauses for a long second, and just as Anakin opens his mouth to issue another challenge to get him moving, a hand presses into the back of his neck hard.

With one hand anchored on Anakin’s nape and the other on his hip, Obi-Wan snaps his hips in a swift thrust that has Anakin grunting.

From there he sets a quick, hard pace. Obi-Wan must be reading him in the Force because after several experimental thrusts he finds the best angle he can and he’s really making Anakin feel it.

Obi-Wan knows him and his limits like nobody else. Which means he knows exactly how rough to be. Exactly how much he can crush Anakin into the wall. Each thrust is just shy of too much. The weight is just enough to make him feel trapped without making him spiral.

Anakin has no idea how his Master knew he likes this kind of treatment. Is that something he could just tell somehow? Or do Anakin’s wants just happen to perfectly align with Obi-Wan’s? That’d be good luck.

Once Obi-Wan’s really gotten into his rhythm the hand at Anakin’s hip snakes around to play with the cage. Anakin’s thighs tense as he feels the urge to close his legs to the touch. He usually doesn’t like his partners paying special attention to the cage. But this is Obi-Wan, not some random being who doesn’t know him or anything about him.

Obi-Wan’s beard scratches the shell of his ear as his Master leans in close, distracting him from the line of thought.

“I never imagined this Anakin. That you’d be locked up tight like this. It’s been… stars, it’s been years, hasn’t it? How long have you been needing someone else to make you feel good? To get any kind of pleasure?”

Anakin swallows dumbly. He’s ill-prepared for Obi-Wan doing dirty talk. It’s never something he’s had to contend with. He’s imagined it before in his fantasies but everything about them pales in comparison to the reality of Obi-Wan behind him, thrusting his hips into Anakin’s over and over in a dark alley.

He moans at the reminder of their location.

There’s no way Obi-Wan would ever choose this kind of thing. Fucking in public like this. Anakin’s driven him to this. It’s exhilarating to realise the effect he can have on his Master. He’s been trying for so long to get a rise out of Obi-Wan, and only ever been able to do it inconsistently. But this time he’s gotten Obi-Wan to snap.

Obi-Wan’s fingers fondle his balls and tease at the edges of the cage, which inevitably makes his cock attempt to harden again. He whimpers at the uncomfortable feeling.

He hates this. The pain of his trapped dick trying to get hard. It’s always so humiliating because it makes the reality Anakin has long known and tried to ignore unavoidable. He’s stuck like this, and never getting out. He’s never going to get hard again, not really. Never going to enjoy the simple pleasure of jerking himself off again. Or fucking someone else and being able to feel it.

“Nothing to say Padawan?” Obi-Wan prompts, reminding Anakin that he asked a question.

“Years.” He finally responds dazedly.

“I’ve been desperate for years. This is the only thing that can make me feel good.” He admits, because it’s hardly a big confession at this point.

Obi-Wan’s lips ghost across his neck. That makes Anakin shiver and blink rapidly. He hasn’t kissed anyone during sex since Padmé. Hasn’t wanted to. But he’s wanted to kiss Obi-Wan for years and years.

Unfortunately he’s not at a good angle for it, but he must give himself away because Obi-Wan’s mouth slots against his. It’s not perfect, it can’t be with Anakin’s head pressed to the side like this. But he still moans into it and licks at Obi-Wan’s bottom lip before his Master pulls away.

“Are you going to do as you promised? Stop searching for this from others, and instead come to me?”

Anakin feels a thrill at Obi-Wan not even trying to hide the possessiveness in his voice.

“You haven’t made me cum yet.” The retort comes out breathier than he means, somewhat ruining the effect.

“Oh, haven’t I? I’ll have to rectify that then.” Obi-Wan says in a false mild tone.

A second later there is a sustained pressure against his prostate, rubbing. Anakin bucks his hips as he gurgles at the intense sensation. What in the Force? Wait-…

The impossible pressure, for which there is no room alongside Obi-Wan’s thrusting cock, massages back and forth.

Pleasure bursts behind Anakin’s closed eyelids as he pants and moans desperately, wanting to push back into the touch but knowing he can’t because Obi-Wan is using the Force to do it.

His buttoned up, Code abiding Master is misusing the Force to bring him to the heights of pleasure.

Wave after wave of ecstasy hit him as he squirms in Obi-Wan’s durasteel grasp. His cock weeps pre-cum steadily.

After minutes of blinding, constant pleasure he starts to hiccup as his cock begins to pulse dry. He’s never rung himself dry while being fucked like this. It’s mind melting. It’s eye opening. Anakin feels like he might be ruined for anything else.

Right, that’s what his Master wanted, wasn’t it?

“Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan. Master. I won’t. I won’t fuck anyone else. Just you. Only you. I promise. I promise.” He vows, desperate and overstimulated.

But he never wants it to end, even though it’s starting to hurt.

“Please, please.” He babbles, not even sure what he’s begging for.

Obi-Wan groans, and there’s a fervent edge to the sound.

“My good- so good. Yes. Of course you won’t. Of course you won’t.” Obi-Wan pants, sounding senseless.

It’s unlike him, but Anakin kind of likes getting to see him untidy. It’s such a rare treat.

The pressure against his prostate disappears and he slumps down a little, relieved. Obi-Wan’s still thrusting in and out, but that’s a manageable amount of sensation. Anakin doesn’t feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin from it.

It takes several more thrusts, and then Obi-Wan’s hips are stuttering and he’s moaning hotly against Anakin’s neck as he spills into the condom.

They both just stand there, panting for a minute. Anakin feels genuinely dazed from the pleasure. He thinks his legs would wobble beneath him if he hadn’t planted his feet for this.

That was… perfect.

After a moment he thinks to repeat the sentiment out loud.

Obi-Wan chuckles breathlessly and Anakin feels lips press against his nape momentarily as Obi-Wan kisses him again.

“I’m glad you think so, you impossible thing.” He mutters, some of his snark finally returning.

After a minute Obi-Wan pulls out. Anakin just stays there for a bit longer, until Obi-Wan clicks his tongue disapprovingly and Anakin groans. He lifts himself away from the wall. His legs are indeed shaky, and he has to steady himself. He pulls up his pants, tying them closed. Obi-Wan’s nearly done readjusting his robes when Anakin turns around and looks him up and down.

His face is flushed and sweaty. His hair is sticking to his forehead. His robes are a bit rumpled.

It’s obvious what he’s been doing. It’ll be obvious to anyone who sees him.

Obi-Wan glances up and down the deserted alley.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this in an alley.” He sighs and shakes his head.

Anakin straightens, tilting his chin up and smiling.

“Wasn’t any less mind blowing because of that though, was it?”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes as he brushes some imaginary dust off his robes and tilts his head in the direction of the mouth of the alley. Anakin nods and they both start to walk toward it.

“It was uncivilised, that’s what it was.” Obi-Wan mutters.

He doesn’t refute Anakin’s point though, which means he secretly agrees.

“We’ll do it in a bed next time.” Anakin compromises, recognising that he must somewhere in order to make sure Obi-Wan lets this to happen again.

It seems inconceivable that he’d even consider it. But he’s already given in once. And he’s apparently set on doing it again.

He’ll probably have a wealth of concerns to spout at some future point. But now Anakin knows he can use jealousy to grab and hold Obi-Wan’s full attention. He’ll use that like the dangerous weapon it is.

Obi-Wan doesn’t reply and they fall into an easy silence as they walk side by side. A few minutes later Obi-Wan clears his throat, making Anakin look his way.

“You know… there must be a way out there somewhere to remove it somehow. We can search the Archives.” He offers, expression earnest.

Anakin shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he turns away. He’s long accepted that he’s not getting out of the cage, but he’s obviously going to have to convince his Master of it still.

He glances back at Obi-Wan’s waiting face and thinks at least it’s come with some perks in the long run though.