Mud | Obikin

36.

But Anakin knows all of this already, and he wouldn't listen to a word, anyway. We'd start arguing. Probably, one of us would end up angry-screwing the other against the console.

I eat my snack in silence.

"We don't really have to get back to Coruscant, you know," he says, eyes on the control panel. "I change the route, right now, and we leave it all behind."

A place on the Outer Rim with no war yet, a simpler life. Anakin would come up with a fake name so stupid I wouldn't be able to call him without snorting. He would cook hideous breakfasts every morning, and make love to me each night. We wouldn't need words anymore, but he'd keep using them because we'd miss the sound of his voice.

The mental image we share breaks me, as well as the fact that he means it.

"Is Padme coming?" I inquire. Somehow, this hurts him more than it hurts me.

"You could just say you don't love me enough for that," he groans.

"Would it help?"

"Is it true?"

"Force, Anakin..." I cover my face not to kiss him. "My feelings won't stop what we saw from happening."

He gives me a frustrated glower. "Nothing will, you delusional or'dinii. Just grab all you can before the ship crashes."

"Precisely the purpose for which I'd rather save the arguing for Coruscant," I mumble, taking his flesh hand in mine.

Anakin frowns at our laced fingers and pouts like he suspects I'm doing him wrong.

"Is it us that you're planning to crash?" He eventually sneers. "'Cause you won't. You need me."

"I do," I admit. "But I don't want to watch you die."

My unprecedented openness scares him; I sense his stomach clenching.
There's no need to explain again why we can't follow this road further. It's not like I expected him to help, anyway.

"A smarter guy would already be making the most of the time left," I remark, searching his eyes.

Anakin whines for he has no defence against this argument.
He pensively strokes my lower lip with his thumb, as if taking my measure. Then, he lifts my chin and kisses me - so gently I'm baffled.

All I can think of is that he tastes good, and I'll miss his mouth. I can maybe cure my dependence, but I'll still have to deal with my attraction and my feelings.

"You would never," he repeats against my lips.

"Later..." I whisper. "Please."

With a sigh, Anakin stands up and pulls me by my arm into the corridor.
He opens the closet door, first, and we giggle. When he meets the right one, he pushes me on the small bed, making me bounce on the mattress.
Somehow, we can't help being incongruously happy.

"Bigger cabin next door," I say.

"Clothes," Anakin orders, and I chuckle.

"You said not to waste time!" He points out.

I undress under his intense scrutiny, trying to burn into my mind the way he looks at me. Being wanted is another drug I shall learn to go without.

"Clothes," I mock.

Anakin tosses his tunic away and kicks off his boots. Then, he lays at my side to get rid of his belt and trousers.

"Force," I breathe out when his body is displayed for me.

He stretches, relishing my stare. "And to think I was convinced we would've meditated all the way back."

"Sort of," I absently comment, giving in to the impulse to touch his chest.

"If you ever cared to read 'Galactic Cultures,'" I reply to his perplexity. "You'd knew the Anzati combine Bonds like ours with sex to enhance their connection to the Force... And no, before you ask, this doesn't excuse us; they minimise the risks of addiction by resorting to it thriftily."

And by keeping love out of the mix.

I let my fingertips graze his flanks. Then, I lean down to kiss where they traced. His skin has the leathery scent of his clothes.

"We're already proficient, even by Anzati's standards," Anakin concludes, caressing my hair. "Let's start our own Order."

'Next life, maybe,' I think out loud, my mouth too busy for words.

I cover him in light pecks, leave marks on his neck, and lap his nipples until they're hard. He titters, hums, and finally moans.
'Nevermore' echoes in each kiss, adding urgency to our craving.

As our minds start to tangle, what's left of our shields goes to rubble. The world gets blurred. Nonetheless, our hold on reality remains steady. We cling to it, to each other, as the storm whirls around us.

"Master," Anakin calls. His voice reverberates through me.

I come back to his lips, and we kiss like this; naked bodies and naked minds.
His touch is fire on my skin as he takes us in his hands. We pant together, our mouths near, for as long as we can.

Then, Anakin makes me lay on my back and sits astride me; his hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed. He recovers from my belt what he needs to get ready and slowly guides me into him. We sigh as we fuse, finally regaining where we belong.
The bunk is so small that Anakin can support his rocking by pressing both hands on the overhead. I use mine to stroke him. When I shift my hips, he silently cries, and cries.
The Force sings in our veins; our Signatures perfect halves, our climaxes raising in tidal waves. As we submerge, for a moment, we are whole.

Afterwards, we lay in each other's arms, breathless.
The air still vibrates with the energy we freed.

The Force is whole too; there aren't two sides of it, but a single, continuous surface. Light and Darkness are the same substance, only existing by virtue of their contrast.
Anakin's shadows enhance my lights, his lights enhance my shadows.
I entrusted him with those parts of me I couldn't even look at, and he accepted them like a gift.
It's a long time since we last were alone. I fear I won't have the guts.

"What you're trying to save isn't worth losing this," he murmurs.

Before doubts prevail, I take his face between my hands and say those things I won't be able to repeat tomorrow - that he changed me, and that I love him.

Anakin brings my hand to his chest, his eyes wet.
I close mine.

The place where our minds conjoin is a smooth nub, like a plant graft, or an old scar. It has the wistful beauty of what took a long time to build and feels precious for the same reason.

"Obi-Wan..." His heart pounds faster. "I'm begging you."

I expect torn flesh and a leaking wound. Instead, it comes off with a clean snap, like a fruit stem; leaving only a neat void.

Anakin gasps. I have no idea of what he's feeling.

Editing: my dear JediStormbringer <3

The fanart that goes with this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10501380

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Note from the author:

... Now, beware 'cause I'm getting sentimental.

Mud is my first story.
I gave it all I had; it gave me back so much.
It made me meet my lovely editors and you, beautiful readers.
If I made it to the end is thanks to your comments, support, and friendship.
Love you guys.
Alcalina

I'm glad you followed me all the way here. I hope this story left something to you.
If so, leave me a word to let me know, please, and make my day once more. :)