20 Days of Obikin Challenge, Day 2: “Hold me, just for a bit, okay?”
2 for 2! But now it’s my work week so the momentum may be hard to keep up.
Rating: T
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This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea. Which is honestly a thought Obi-Wan has frequently around Anakin. But this might break some kind of record. They’re in the middle of both the 212th and 501st, separated from several hundred clones by nothing but too-thin cloth. Anyone could walk in at any point. In fact, people are in and out all the time, updating the Generals to every development in their little corner of Outer Rim hell.
The cot is only meant for one, and sharing it means that he’s more than half underneath Anakin’s heavy body. He’d done his usual grumbling as he rearranges himself around ridiculous long limbs, but they both know it’s mostly performative at this point. Anakin’s tactile nature comes out when they’re in the field, and Obi-Wan quickly learned that if he didn’t indulge him now and again then he ended up with an increasingly clingy Jedi Knight constantly underfoot. So, purely in the interest of keeping the grand army of the Republic running smoothly, he no longer tried to kick Anakin out of his tent at night.
That was before things started getting so very out of control. Before there was Anakin’s lips against his neck and the weight of a hand on the small patch of bare skin between his shirt and trousers. His heart is beating far too fast, thumping in his throat, and he’s sure Anakin can feel it. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
That hand doesn’t move, but Anakin lets out a shaky sigh before propping his chin up on Obi-Wan’s collarbone and looking down at him. “I don’t know.”
Of course he doesn’t. But he’s trembling against Obi-Wan and his wide eyes look so vulnerable and Obi-Wan works his arms around his body to hold him closer without even thinking. They’ve both had a hard day, lost far more men than anyone expected, and only to be driven back again and again from their objective. Pinned under and surrounded by Anakin, so close that nothing else in the galaxy matters besides the heartbeat against his ribs and the wash of breath over his skin—Obi-Wan needs this too.
At some point in the last few years Anakin’s gotten much too big to just manhandle where Obi-Wan wants him, but he manages. Some lifting and shoving aligns their bodies, foreheads pressed together, sharing air. Anakin’s shirtless—he’s had the weird aversion to sleeping fully clothed as long as Obi-Wan has known him—and the places where their skin meets feels like sparks. His thighs are parted around Anakin’s hips, but there’s no urgency. No rush. Just the heat of Anakin’s stuttered exhale against his lips and the way his curls feel tangled in Obi-Wan’s fingers.
“Master, please,” he whispers, and Obi-Wan suppresses a shudder with some difficulty, deciding that reaction is something to be examined some other time. “Please just hold me. Just for a bit. Please?”
“Of course.” As if he could ever deny Anakin anything.
They fall asleep with Anakin’s chin hooked over his shoulder, his nose mashed into the pillow in a way that looks incredibly uncomfortable, and Obi-Wan sleeps better than he has in a very long time.
konekorambles 